“With all my heart,” said Earth, “for we cannot sleep while she continues it.”
“Earth, is it not strange, that, entertaining so much hatred for the whites, and knowing that if her son be dead, a white man must have killed him, she did not vent either abuses or curses upon us.”
“Yes, it is;—if she had, I should have felt less sorry than I do, and can only account for her conduct, by her whole soul being taken up with the object of her search.”
“Is she not unusually devoted for an Indian mother? I always thought their feelings were less ardent than ours.”
“That is a mistake;—the way they are brought up causes them to suppress their feelings, and to seem indifferent towards each other. Yet, there is no race under heaven who will suffer more privations for their children than will the Ingens.”
Thus conversing, they again sought the mother, sympathized with her, and assisted in the search; and Earth, drawing her into conversation, learned the following particulars of her history:—
She resided several miles within the forest, and was seeking a son, her only child, who, a day or two before, had left her wigwam in search of game. Circumstances had induced her to believe that he had been murdered by the whites, and to confirm or remove her suspicions was now her object. Owing to the deadly enmity which existed between the two races, she feared to venture far from her wigwam during the day, and had prosecuted her search chiefly at night. One entire night she had passed in this way, and she had now commenced the second in the same fruitless manner.
Earth, with a view of consoling her, said, “Mother, thy son may think the long knives seek his death; he is swift of foot as the deer on the prairie; the deer, to avoid the dogs, flies.”
“Stop,” said the mother, “tell me not he fled:—could I believe that he, in whom my blood flows, would flee from a pale face, I would seek him, but it would be, to bury my knife in his heart. Oloompa fled!” and she burst into a flood of tears;—“No, no, my son, thou didst not know how to flee. Thy blood lies clotted on this cold ground. Leave me, leave me,” she continued, “my son would rise from the dead, didst thou tell him he would flee from a pale face.”
Rolfe and Earthquake perceiving her distress, and appreciating her feelings, again endeavoured to soothe and console her.