Saying this, he flew upon her, and bit off the end of her nose. This, the usual punishment for conjugal infidelity, is the greatest disgrace a woman can receive—it bars her forever from again entering the pale of matrimony. The wretch fled to his own people; but his revenge fell short of its aim. Day-kau-ray was too well known and too universally respected to suffer opprobium in any member of his family. This bright, loving creature in particular, won all hearts upon a first acquaintance—she certainly did ours from the outset.
She suffered much from rheumatism, and a remedy we gave her soon afforded her almost entire relief. Her gratitude knew no bounds. Notwithstanding, that from long suffering she had become partially crippled, she would walk all the way from the Barribault, a distance of ten miles, as often as once in two or three weeks, to visit us. Then, to sit and gaze at us, to laugh with childish glee at everything new or strange that we employed ourselves about—to pat and stroke us every time we came near her—sometimes to raise our hand or arms and kiss them—these were her demonstrations of affection. And we loved her in return. It was always a joyful announcement when, looking out over the Portage road, somebody called out, “the Cut-nose is coming!” In time, however, we learned to call her by her baptismal name of Elizabeth, for she, too, was one of Mr. Mazzuchelli’s converts.
She came one day, accompanied by a half-grown boy, carrying a young fawn, she had brought me as a present. I was delighted with the pretty creature—with its soft eyes and dappled coat; but having often heard the simile, “as wild as a fawn,” I did not anticipate much success in taming it. To my great surprise, it soon learned to follow me like a dog. Wherever I went, there Fan was sure to be. At breakfast, she would lie down at my feet, under the table. One of her first tokens of affection was to gnaw off all the trimming from my black silk apron, as she lay pretending to caress and fondle me. Nor was this her only style of mischief.
One day we heard a great rattling among the crockery in the kitchen. We ran to see what was the matter, and found that Miss Fan had made her way to a shelf of the dresser, about two feet from the ground, and was endeavoring to find a comfortable place to lie down, among the plates and dishes. I soon observed that it was the shelter of the shelf above her head that was the great attraction, and that she was in the habit of seeking out a place of repose under a chair, or something approaching to an “umbrageous bower.” So after this I took care, as the hour for her morning nap approached, to open a large green parasol, and set it on the matting in the corner—then when I called Fan, Fan, she would come and nestle under it, and soon fall fast asleep.
One morning Fan was missing. In vain we called and sought her in the garden—in the enclosure for the cattle—at the houses of the Frenchmen—along the hill towards Paquette’s—no Fan was to be found. We thought she had asserted her own wild nature and sped away to the woods.
It was a hot forenoon, and the doors were all open. About dinner time, in rushed Fan, panting violently, and threw herself upon her side, where she lay with her feet outstretched, her mouth foaming, and exhibiting all the signs of mortal agony. We tried to give her water, to soothe her, if perhaps it might be fright that so affected her; but in a few minutes, with a gasp and a spasm, she breathed her last. Whether she had been chased by the greyhounds, or whether she had eaten some poisonous weed, which, occasioning her suffering, had driven her to her best friends for aid, we never knew; but we lost our pretty pet, and many were the tears shed for her.
Very shortly after the departure of my husband, we received a visit from “the White Crow,” “the Little Priest,” and several others of the principal chiefs of the Rock River Indians. They seemed greatly disappointed at learning that their father was from home, even though his errand was to get “the silver.” We sent for Paquette,[[86]] who interpreted for us the object of their visit.
They had come to inform us that the Sac Chief, Black Hawk and his band, who, in compliance with a former treaty, had removed sometime previous to the west of the Mississippi, had now returned to their old homes and hunting grounds, and expressed a determination not to relinquish them, but to drive off the white settlers who had begun to occupy them.