While such was the aspect of the Indian affairs, Rolfe and Earthquake were journeying on with Oloompa, to the lodge of Netnokwa. As yet they had been unmolested, but they saw from the excitement which was every where existing among the Indians, that hostilities were intended, and they regretted having ventured so far with so small a force. In Oloompa, however, they had seen no change since, though still reserved, and not cordial in his manner, he continued to aid them in supplying all their wants, and assured them of their safety.
The history of Gay Foreman, now presented her in a situation of great interest; for, while in one direction, Oloompa and Earthquake were moving on for the purpose of restoring her to her friends in the settlements; in another, Kenah, with his party, was hurrying on to seize her and the friends she had formed, and carry them all as prisoners to the camp of the Prophet.
At the cottage of Netnokwa, all was quiet, and nothing told of the fate which awaited its inmates. The time for Oloompa's promised return had arrived, and the maidens were excited with the pleasing anticipations of soon seeing him, accompanied as Gay fondly believed he would be, by Rolfe, of whom she had never thought but with affection.—Time had glided on smoothly since Oloompa's departure. They had had but few visitors, and were now alone. Netnokwa and the maidens were pursuing their usual avocations, either embroidering with the needle, which, with all, was a daily duty, or else making moccasins, and decorating them with beads. Buffalo skins were also often prepared, and adorned on the inner surface, with paintings or hieroglyphical devices, by means of colours obtained from the woods, which remained fresh and vivid, although exposed to the changes of the weather. When not engaged in these things, they were nursing their flowers, or roving through the woods.
So were they situated, and it was evening, when they were alone in their wigwam, that their ears were assailed with the most terrific yell. It reverberated through the woods like the ringing of a horn, and in another moment, Kenah and his party were rushing towards them. Netnokwa sprung forward and planted herself in the door. Miskwa and Gay crouched behind her. The Prophet's band, like a swollen torrent, came sweeping on. “Stop, madmen!” she cried, in a loud piercing voice, which appalled even the fiercest hearts, and hushed them into silence deep as that of the grave:—“Dost thou know Netnokwa? Darest thou fell the old oak of the forest, or handle roughly the loveliest flower of the prairie? Cowardly wretches! what want you here?” She ceased:—they were awed into silence, and, like dogs at bay, were kept at a distance, by Netnokwa's glance. But a moment passed, and Kenah again rushing forward, the frame of old Netnokwa yielded to his impetuosity, and entering the cabin, he was followed by his party. At first, were heard cries and shrieks, and several moments passed of distracting doubt. Then the voice of old Netnokwa was heard sounding loud above the storm within, and venting curses and imprecations on Kenah and his party. “Whence came ye? Who orders? How dare you touch Netnokwa? Netnokwa is now as withered grass,—her stream of life is almost dry,—her hair is whiter than the snow.—Who wants her? Say, blood hounds! why come ye?”
“The Prophet,” cried Kenah.
“May the lightning of the Great Spirit wither his heart. May his spirit never enter the happy hunting grounds of the red men,” cried Netnokwa. “He wants the last drop that flows in the veins of the old woman.”
“No,” said Kenah, “the Prophet wishes to see Netnokwa. He sends for her to his camp. He will not harm her.”
“Then why did he not send a runner. The message of the Prophet is heavy; six warriors must bear it. Why come ye all?”
“It is the Prophet's will:”—was the brief reply.
Netnokwa shook her head, for she saw too well, the fate which awaited her, and calming herself, she turned to Miskwa, who with Gay had crouched down behind her, each trembling with fear. Holding with her a hurried dialogue for a few moments, she again turned to Kenah; “What becomes of Netnokwa's daughter, the loveliest flower of the prairie?”