Nothing of importance occurred during the couple of days longer their journey lasted, and before it was completed, both the prisoners lost all apprehension of violence. They were even permitted to shoot the game which was started, and the Indians manifested no little pleasure when the shots proved successful. They watched closely the loading of the pieces and priming, and the manner in which the lock trigger was raised, and sometimes took the guns into their own hands, and brought them up to the shoulder, as they had seen the white men do, as if desirous to be taught their use. Something also, in reference to the subject, they said to the Knight, but he shook his head, and showed no disposition to instruct them. An unlucky experiment made with the piece of Sir Christopher, by one of the Taranteens, at length put an end to their importunities.
The Indian took the gun, after he had seen it loaded by Sir Christopher, and imitating his actions, discharged it at a bird sitting on a bough, at no great distance.
He had failed to remark that the Knight placed the piece firmly against his shoulder when it was fired, and ignorant of the propriety of doing so, held it with a natural feeling of timidity at a little distance from his body. The consequence was, that the recoil prostrated the savage on his back, and the gun dropped from his hands, while the fortunate bird seemed to deride the unskilful marksman, and to challenge him to another trial, by paying no other heed than hopping on another bough. His companions gathered round the fallen savage, and two or three took hold of the white men, as if to prevent escape; but when they saw no wound upon his person, nor expression of pain in his face, (for the pride of the unfortunate warrior forbade the betrayal of what he felt,) their words of sympathy and intentions of revenge were converted into jeers and laughter. As for the unlucky fellow himself, on rising from the ground, he retreated a little way from the gun, and regarding it with a look, wherein awe and aversion were combined, took care not to approach nigh to it again.
On the evening of the seventh day after their departure, they approached the village of the Taranteens. The whole company halted at a little distance from it, and the returning Indians shouted a peculiar cry, after which they proceeded more leisurely on their way. The yell had been heard and understood, for soon were seen advancing, groups of men, women, and children. These, upon joining their friends, manifested none of that stolid indifference, which it has been the pleasure of certain writers to ascribe to the natives, forgetting that by nature the same feelings animate the hearts of all men, whatever may be the degree of their civilization, or the color of their skin. On the contrary, there were smiling faces and tones of welcome, and other demonstrations, that proved the existence of affection. The squaws and children looked askance at the strangers, but their glances were rather timid than obtrusive, and augured no unfavorable prepossessions. Accompanied by a constantly increasing number, our friends were conducted to a lodge in the centre of the village, which they were told they would occupy during their stay. It was carefully covered with bark, and, as usual, skins were hanging on the sides, and lying on the ground for couches, and there were some cooking utensils, made of clay, on one side. Such were all the articles constituting the simple ménage of the child of nature, and completed his idea of necessary furniture. Here the strangers were left by their guides, though several of the tribe remained lingering around the wigwam.
"Thus far," said the Knight, stretching himself out on a skin, for in whatever circumstances he might be placed, he was always at his ease, "hath heaven breathed favoring airs into our sails. We will accept the omen and be hopeful for the future."
"No more skilful ambassador, it seems to me," said Arundel, "ever mediated betwixt mighty governments than thyself, Sir Christopher. Why, Ephraim Pike was right, and I did injustice to his hang-dog look when I distrusted him."
"What said he?" inquired the Knight.
"That our journey would be a mere pleasure flight, unattended with danger."
"He would have found it different had he undertaken it," muttered Sir Christopher. "And was it Ephraim who advised thee to associate thyself with me?"
"He did not presume to advise. I scarcely know how it happened, but as I accidentally met the man, the conversation turned upon thy enterprise, of the dangers whereof he made light."