All this was the work of a moment. The spy turned fiercely upon the intruder, and, saying something fiercely and authoritatively to him in Indian, strode leisurely away. Ronayne could not be mistaken. The first was Pee-to-tum, and even if he could not have traced the graceful outline of the well—knit figure, the soft and musical voice which replied to the scorning threat of the fierce chief sufficiently denoted it to be Wau-nan-gee.
“Heavens! how is this? Wau-nan-gee!” he asked, sternly, yet trembling with excitement in every limb, “why came you here? Why have you saved my life? Speak! are you not my enemy? Where is my wife?”
All these questions were asked with the greatest volubility, and in a state of mind so confused by the host of feelings the presence of the young Indian inspired, that he scarcely comprehended the latter as he replied:—
“All! love him too much, Ronayne wife—love him Ronayne too —Wau-nan-gee friend, dear friend—Wau-nan-gee die for him—Ronayne wife in Ingin camp—pale—pale, very much!”
“Answer me,” said Ronayne, grasping him by the shoulder in pure excitement, “tell me truly, Wau-nan-gee—I will not hurt you if you do—but tell me, on the truth of an Indian warrior, is not my wife your wife? did she not go to you? does she not love you?”
“Ugh?” exclaimed the boy, with an expression of deep melancholy in his manner; “Wau-nan-gee love him too much, but not make him wife. Spose him not Ronayne wife, then Wau-nan-gee; die happy spose him Wau-nan-gee wife. Feel him dere, my friend—feel him heart—oh much sick for Maria—but Wau-nan-gee Ronayne friend no hurt him wife.”
“Can all this be possible?” he exclaimed, vehemently to himself. “Oh, what a noble, what a generous being; he restores life and happiness to my heart! But still I am not yet convinced, the joy is too great for such light testimony. One question more, Wau-nan-gee: why did my wife leave this? Did you persuade her to go?”
“Yes, Ronayne, Wau-nan-gee tell him go. Shuh!” he continued, as if enjoining silence, and looking cautiously round, “no speak, Ronayne—Ingin very wicked—kill him garrison by by—Ronayne and Maria—Wau-nan-gee friend, dear friend—Wau-nan-gee save him—Ingin kill him—Maria cry very much, promise no.” Then drawing a handkerchief from his pocket, which the officer recognised, even in the gloom, as that which he had thrown down at Hardscrabble, and which was subsequently waved from the window of the farm-house, he handed it to him.
“Now, then,” he exclaimed, “is all my doubt removed, and again am I the happiest of men in the assurance of the continued love of the adored one. Oh, Wau-nan-gee, my friend, my brother!” He threw himself into his embrace; he pressed him forcibly to his heart. “Oh, how true, how just was the feeling which caused me not to hate, even when I fancied you had most injured me! Wau-nan-gee, you must always be my friend; you must be Maria's friend; you must love us both!”
“Yes,” said the Indian, warmly and with difficulty maintaining the stoicism of his race; “Wau-nan-gee happy to lay down his life for Ronayne and Maria; oh! Ronayne,” and he took the hand of the Virginian and placed it on his chest which he bared, “can't tell how much Wau-nan-gee love him Maria—want to make him happy. Suppose Ronayne come now with Wau-nan-gee—take him to squaw camp. Stay there till battle over. Yes, come, come!”