“No,” said Earth, “although she is a red skin, by heaven, I swear to protect and defend her as I would my sister, were she living.”
Rolfe readily promised the same, and eagerly cried, “Oh! bring her, Oloompa! bring both! and go with me; I will give thee a wigwam and lands, which shall be thy own, and thy days shall pass in peace and quiet.”
“No,” answered Oloompa; “I have said the red men and white can never dwell together. There must ever be a wall between them. Yet Oloompa is satisfied—the hunters will protect the red maiden?”
“They will,” was the answer.
“Oloompa will visit the camp of the Prophet,” said Rolfe, “and hear him preach; he may find the red maiden safe, and forget the white. The hunters wait for him; will he return?”
“Oloompa's promise is not a reed to be bent or broken,” was the answer. “If Oloompa lives, the hunters shall see him. If the maiden can be brought without the camp, she comes with Oloompa.”
It was now getting dark, and the party concealing their horses, began to approach the town. The hunters then selected a spot, where they promised to remain, and Oloompa moved on. Upon going off, he said:—“The hunters will not doubt Oloompa, for though it be deep in the night, he will return.”
“We doubt thee not,” said Rolfe, “return as soon as may be, and our blessings attend thee.”
Night had now advanced an hour or two, when a single warrior, armed as if in readiness for battle, was seen to emerge from the forest, and bend his steps towards the Indian camp. He approached with the bold bearing of a welcome guest, and was nearing it, when the sound of the American drum in the distance, fell harsh upon his ears. He stopped, the sound stirred him to the inmost soul, and as each successive note fell harsher still, his countenance changed until it writhed in agony. The truth burst upon him, and hurriedly he entered the town. No one stood sentinel, nor at first, did even a warrior meet his eye; the cabins were untenanted, the doors swung open, and to all appearance the town was deserted. But as madly he hurried on, the distant hum of suppressed voices was heard, and then in the moonlight was seen the bright gleam of arms, and soon after a dark mass of bodies closely gathered, showed that all the Indians were assembled in council.
When Oloompa discovered this, he stopped, and for a moment hesitated, not knowing the part which it was proper he should play. In the distance lay the camp of the whites, plainly visible from the fires which marked its situation. In it, he saw the enemies of his race, those whom he hated, and against whom he had sworn vengeance, to be extinguished but with his life. Gazing in another direction, yet near at hand, he saw the large gathered crowd of his own countrymen, attempting, no doubt, to organize some plan for destroying those who had dared to invade their lands; and securing to themselves vengeance for the wrongs they had suffered, as well as for those they were daily suffering. Seeing these things, his soul glowed with fiercest hate against the whites, and he felt that in his exertions to serve the hunters who belonged to that grasping race, he had, perhaps, wronged his countrymen; and he now regretted the promise he had made them. Then, as the storm of passion subsided, he thought of Miskwa; and when with that, came the belief that she had been brought a prisoner within the very walls of the town in which he now was, and that she was destined probably to become a victim to the Prophet's policy, or rather his cruelty, he was recalled to a sense of his situation. He recollected all he had accomplished;—he recurred to the deep confidence the hunters had placed in him, and he determined to attend the council, see what steps the Indians were about to adopt, and when it had adjourned, continue his search for Netnokwa and her party, and then, to act as, upon further consideration, he should deem advisable.