Prairie–bird opened the book, but she looked not on the page, for the words were treasured in her heart; and she repeated, in a voice faltering from deep emotion, “Whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried; the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.”
As she concluded these words, she looked up to the face of her betrothed with eyes beaming with truth and affection. The strong man was overcome; he could only utter a deep Amen. The consciousness that the trustful, guileless being now at his side had surrendered to his keeping the ark of her earthly happiness, mingled an awful responsibility with the more tender feelings that possessed his inmost soul; he felt what has been so truly described by a poet out of fashion and out of date,—that
“The treasures of the deep are not so precious
As are the concealed comforts of a man
Locked up in woman’s love.”
Then did he record a secret and solemn vow that he would guard his precious treasure with a miser’s care; the stars began more brightly to twinkle in the sky, the watch–fires emitted through the deepening gloom a clearer ray; and as the head of Prairie–bird lightly rested upon her lover’s shoulders, they gave themselves up to the delicious reveries suggested by the hour, the scene, and hearts overcharged with bliss.
The happy pair were suddenly aroused from their waking dream by the sharp crack of a rifle, the flash of which Reginald distinctly saw through the bushes on the side of the hill below them; a bullet whizzed close to his head, and a half–suppressed cry broke from Prairie–bird.
“Speak, love, speak!” he exclaimed, in frantic alarm; “speak but one word to tell me you are not hurt!”
“I am not hurt,” she replied; “God be praised that you are also unharmed! Nay, dearest, do not break from me.” Here the report of fire–arms was again heard, mingled with the shouts and tumult of a sudden fray. “Our friends are on their guard! you are still weak from your late wound! Oh, Reginald, stay! I entreat—I implore!”
But he heard her not; the din of arms and the foul attempt at murder, directed, as he believed, against the life of his betrothed, had awakened the tempest within him; the wounded arm was released from its sling, and with drawn cutlass in his right hand, he rushed down the steep slope of the hill with the reckless speed of a madman. We will now proceed to explain the cause of this sudden interruption of their tête–à–tête.
It has been already mentioned that Besha had been charged with explaining to Mahéga the arrangements and plans adopted at the Upsaroka council. No sooner had he done so, than the Osage chief, finding that the evacuation of the camp was to take place during the night, resolved upon striking, before they withdrew from the neighbourhood, one blow at the foes who had defeated and baffled him.