Accordingly, Dean selected a high bank, rocky and castellated at the water’s side, and bare of trees for a considerable distance inland, for the site of two cabins. The labor of building log cabins was novel to the young men. Yet, though difficult, its novelty and romantic character made it pleasing. James Ballybarn was a regularly taught carpenter and joiner, and his knowledge was brought into use. Dean planned the cabins in the simplest but most comfortable manner, and all hands worked hard at cutting down trees and hewing them into the proper size and form. While the cabins were preparing, the young pioneers slept in a rude hut constructed of their chests and tools, and covered with the boughs of small trees.
The cabins were finished, much to the gratification of the workmen. They stood within about five yards of each other and presented quite a fine appearance, amid the solitude of the wilderness. Each one was occupied by three young men. By the aid of a friendly Delaware, two canoes were also constructed in the usual Indian style by hollowing out the trunks of large trees. And now the real hardships of the hunter’s life were to be endured; and though our young pioneers succeeded very well for beginners supplying themselves with food, and skins for sale, yet the labor was more difficult than they had expected. One or two began to compare their situation with what it had been in England, and the result of the comparison, was by no means favorable to their remaining in the wilderness. But Harold Dean had fallen in love with the hunter’s life. It offered plenty of exciting occupation to his quick and daring spirit; and he forgot friends and relations at home. His influence over his companions was undisputed. He had a love of being first in every thing, and never spared labor to make himself such. His companions submitted to his lead, and after a little argument, were persuaded that there was no life like a hunter’s.
The party had become very intimate with the Indians, and Harold Dean especially was a general favorite among them. He had cultivated the friendship of a young Indian hunter, named Pakanke. Pakanke was brave, adventurous, and skilled in all the mysteries of woodcraft. He instructed Harold Dean in that art, which was to him so necessary, and joined the young Englishmen in many a hunting excursion.
But other attractions induced Harold to seek the company of Pakanke, and frequently to spend a day at his wigwam. The Indian hunter had a sister, who was one of the most beautiful young women of her tribe, and decidedly the most intelligent. Her father had been killed in battle, and her brother was necessarily her guardian. Many of the young Delawares, foremost in war and the chase, coveted the beautiful Narramattah, but she had refused to share the wigwam of the bravest. Harold Dean met her at the cabin of her brother, and was charmed with her appearance and manners. His fine person and winning attentions also captivated the guileless maid. Pakanke regarded the growing attachment of his English friend and sister with undisguised pleasure, and did all in his power to increase it.
Harold’s friends were now frequently deprived of his company, yet as he told them of the beauties of the sister of Pakanke, they guessed the reason and readily excused him. But was it a fact that Harold loved Narra-mattah? That she loved him there could not be a doubt; she was never happier than when in his presence, and she told him that he had became her Manito, or idol. Harold admired her—that he confessed to himself. But he laughed to scorn the assertions of his friends that he really loved an Indian girl.
At length the precise state of his feelings was divulged. Richard Gwynne rallied him one evening, after the return from the day’s hunting, upon being captivated by a dusky forest beauty.
“Pshaw!” replied Harold, with a contemptuous expression of features, “Gwynne, have you no idea of whiling away the time with women, apart from falling in love with them? You are completely fresh. I love an ignorant savage! I have known too many of the intelligent and enchanting girls of merry old England, to be so foolish. I’ll beguile the time with this Narramattah, but could not for a moment think of loving her, or of going through the Indian sanction of a marriage ceremony.”
So saying, Harold turned away from Gwynne, and entered the cabin. But what he had said had struck one ear and touched one heart for which it was not intended. Pa-kanke had parted from Harold a moment before Gwynne had spoken to him, and hearing his sister’s name mentioned, had checked his pace to hear what was said of her. Eavesdropping is a vice practised by the untutored children of the forest as well as by civilized men, and it is sometimes pardonable. Pa-kanke understood sufficient English to comprehend that Harold Dean was confessing that he was trifling with Narramattah’s love, and never intended to marry her. In an instant, all his esteem and friendship for the young Englishman had turned to the gall of hatred and revenge. He at first thought of seeking him at once, and demanding redress for the insult offered to his family and race. But reining his passion, he resolved to wait a more promising opportunity.
The next day, Harold Dean and Pakanke went upon the hunt together, and the Indian took the earliest occasion, when they were alone, to explain to the Englishman the extent of his sister’s affection for him, and to demand that he should marry her. Harold endeavored to soothe the indignant feelings of the red man, and told him that he could love his sister, but could not marry her, as he had a wife already in England. Pakanke told him that he was deceitful; that he was a snake, whose bright colors lured simple maidens near that he might sting them; that he had seemed a friend, but to be a more deadly foe; and that he should marry Narra-mattah, or feel that the red man can revenge an insult as he can repay a kindness. He concluded in these forcible words: “Take to your wigwam, pale face, the maiden you have loved; keep and take care of the wild flower which you have sought and trained to await your coming, or the big wind shall hurl you to the earth!”
Harold evaded the demand, and finally induced the young Indian to wait until the next day, when they should see Narramattah together, and then he would decide. But the deceitful Englishman did not intend to see the maiden, he had wronged, again. It was a mere ruse to escape the Indian’s vengeance for a time. The next day, when Pakanke came for Harold he was not to be found at the cabin; and Pakanka turned to Narramattah, to tell her of her wrongs, and his burning resolve to revenge them. The poor, trusting forest maiden seemed as if struck speechless by the information that Harold had fled, after declaring that he never intended to take her to his wigwam. The wild flower was crushed by the ruthless blast; and her mind, unable to withstand the shock, became distracted. When Pakanke arose in the morning, his sister was gone. He searched eagerly every where in the neighborhood of the village for her, but in vain. At length news was brought him that Narrantattah’s mangled body had been found at the foot of a high precipice, near the Wissahicon creek. He hurried to the spot, and found the information true.