“He came in and asked for a night’s lodging. The settler’s family, who had seen many Indians about in the afternoon, were afraid; but the noble countenance of their guest reassured them, and they gave him permission to stay. In the morning he told them that his tribe were returning up the river, after having received their money from the United States, and that as some of them had drunk the firewater, he feared they might alarm the pale-faces in the cabin, and therefore he had come to project them.”
Painted Rock, so called because there are Indian paintings upon it, was on the opposite side of the river, in deep shadow, while the green hill sloping toward the south, lay in broad sunshine.
Dwellings nestled in a pretty ravine were frowned upon by four lofty cliffs, whose rugged rocks resembled fortifications. One rock looked precisely like the fragment of a massive wall. Just beyond, a valley, branching in three directions, ran up among the hills. Over one of these, to the south, the dark shadow of the bluff was thrown, while the soft rounded hills to the north were covered with scattered trees, resembling orchards on the hillside, giving a cultivated look to the scene.
No docks are needed, as the steamer, that only draws about eighteen inches of water, runs up anywhere close to the shore. As it was approaching the bank they saw a log-cabin, in the door of which stood a man, and a little child in red frock and white pantalets, making a pretty picture.
On the jutting point where the boat touched was a white house, and a young girl, with an earthen pitcher, was walking down the stone steps leading to the water.
A great yellow Egyptian-looking cliff threw a shadow over this peaceful scene.
“There are the nine passengers who are to land at this place,” exclaimed Norman, as a man walked up the road followed by eight sheep. “He has been surrounded by that family ever since we left Dunleith.”
“He looks very well satisfied now to have them all safely landed,” said Helen Lisle; “how pleased his children will be at the grand arrival.”
The bluffs were now magnificent. The limestone strata extended in straight lines, looking like streets; then a bold red bluff towered up like a great cathedral; then a building resembling the New York Free Academy, while lofty masses of rock, crowned and encircled with verdure, continually remind one of the feudal castles of the Rhine. It was with reluctance they obeyed the summons to tea, which withdrew them from the ruddy cliffs of Wisconsin; but on returning to the deck they saw them still, glowing in the light of the setting sun:
“Each rosy peak, each flinting spire,