During the preceding conversation Baptiste had been seated at a little distance, his whole attention apparently engaged in mending a rent in his mocassins, but scarcely a word had escaped his watchful ear; and while he heard with secret delight that there was every chance of a fight with the Sioux, towards whom he cherished, as we have before observed, an unextinguished hatred, he could not view without much uneasiness the dangerous position in which Reginald’s party might be placed by a rupture between the Delawares and Osages, in a wild region where either party might so soon obtain the ready aid of the Pawnees, or some other warlike and marauding tribe; he resolved, however, for the present to content himself with putting his young leader on his guard, reserving a fuller explanation until he should have been able to ascertain the intentions of his Delaware friends: in this last endeavour he did not anticipate much difficulty, for the experienced woodsman had proved his steadiness to them in many a fray, and his courage and skill were no less proverbial among them than was his mortal enmity to the Dahcotahs.
Nothing occurred during the ensuing night to disturb the quiet of the encampment, if that may be denominated quiet which was constantly interrupted by the chattering of wakeful squaws, the barking of dogs, the occasional chaunt of a warrior, and the distant howling of hungry wolves. Our hero’s dreams were, like his waking thoughts, full only of Prairie–bird; and when he rose at daybreak he expressed no wish to roam or hunt, but lingered within view of that small circular lodge, which contained the treasure that he valued most on earth. To the cautious warning of Baptiste he answered, smiling, “You confess yourself that you only suspect; you know our friends and their language, their wiles, and their stratagems. I trust the safety of my party to your sagacity; if your suspicions are turned into certainty, tell me, and I am ready to act.”
As the young man left the lodge without even taking his cutlass or his rifle, Baptiste, looking after him, shrugged his shoulders, adding in an under tone, just loud enough to be heard by Monsieur Perrot, who sat at his side,—
“‘Suspicion,’ ‘certainty,’ ‘sagacity,’—why surely he is mad! He talks as if plots and plans were measured out by rule amongst the red–skins, as they may be ‘mongst lords and princes in Europe! This comes of his towering, as they call it, amongst the Dutch, and other outlandish tribes. Surely, he’s lived enough in the territory to know that with these Ingians, and special near a Sioux trail, the first suspicion a man is like to get is an arrow in his ribs or a tomahawk in his brain. Capote–bleu, Maître Perrot, what do you think of your master, is he mad?”
“Very much mad,” said the good–humoured valet, grinning, whilst he continued assiduously to pound some coffee–beans which he was preparing for breakfast; “very much mad, Monsieur Baptiste; he very mad to leave Paris to go to his fox–huntin’ oncle in England; he more mad to leave dat for the backwoods by de Muskingum; but he dam mad to leave Mooshanne to come here where dere is nothing but naked savages and naked prairies.”
“Ah! Maître Perrot,” replied the guide, “my father was a Canada Frenchman, and although he was, mayhap, never further east than Montreal, he was as fond of talking of Paris as a bear is of climbing a bee–tree!”[31]
“He very right, Monsieur Ba’tiste; de world without Paris is no more dan a woman widout a tongue; but as you know our language, I will speak it to you, for pronouncing English is no better dan breaking stones wid your teeth!” And the merry valet forthwith inflicted upon his graver companion a Parisian tirade, that very soon went beyond the latter’s stock of Canadian French.
The morning dawned with unusual splendour; the sun gradually rose over the wooded hills that bounded the eastern horizon, and the light breeze shook the dew–drops from the flowers, as Prairie–bird, fresh and lovely as the scene around her, tripped lightly over the grass to the sequestered spot which we have before mentioned as being her favourite resort: there, seated at the root of the aged tree where Reginald had first seen her, she opened the volume which was her constant companion, and poured forth the grateful feelings of her heart, in the words of the inspired Prophet–King; at her feet flowed the brawling stream which fed the valley below the encampment; the merry birds sang their matins among the leafy branches above her head, and around her sprang sweet–scented flowers and blossoms of a thousand varied hues. There are some spots, and some brief seasons, on earth, so redolent of freshness, beauty, and repose, as almost to revive the Paradise lost by our first parents; but soon, too soon, the effects of primeval sin and its punishment are felt, and the atmosphere of heavenly peace is tainted by the miasma of human passion!
Prairie–bird had enjoyed for some time her study and her meditations undisturbed, when her attention was caught by the sound of approaching footsteps: the conscious blood rushed to her cheek as she expected to see the same visitor who had so suddenly presented himself on the preceding day, when, to her surprise and annoyance, the gigantic figure of Mahéga stood before her, on the opposite side of the streamlet by which she was seated: although simple, unsuspecting, and fearless by nature, there was something in the countenance and bearing of this formidable chief that had always inspired her with mingled dislike and awe: remembering on the present occasion the hint lately given to her by the missionary, she returned the haughty greeting of the Indian by a gentle inclination of her head, and then summoned composure enough to continue her reading, as if desirous to avoid conversation: such, however, was not Mahéga’s intention, who, softening, as far he was able, the rough tones of his voice, addressed to her, in the Delaware tongue, a string of the finest Indian compliments on her beauty and attractions. To these the maiden coldly replied by telling him, that she thanked him for his good words, but that as she was studying the commands of the Great Spirit, she wished not to be disturbed.
Mahéga, nothing checked by this reply, continued to ply her with protestations and promises, and concluded by telling her that she must be his wife; that he was a warrior, and would fill her wigwam with spoils and trophies. As he proceeded, his countenance became more excited, and the tones of his voice had already more of threat than of entreaty. Prairie–bird replied, with forced calmness, that she knew he was a great warrior, but that she could not be his wife: their paths were different; his led to war, and spoils, and power in ruling his tribe; hers to tending the sick and fulfilling the commands of the Great Spirit given in the Medicine Book. Irritated by the firm though gentle tone of her reply, the violent passion of the chief broke out in a torrent of harsh and menacing words: he called her a foundling and a slave; adding, that in spite of the Delaware squaws and their white allies, she should sleep in his lodge, although the honour was greater than she deserved.