“Dearer to none than to me,” said the missionary, raising and supporting the unconscious youth, “for to him I owe my liberty, perhaps my life. ’Tis only the rupture of a small blood–vessel; fear not for him, my brave friend, he will soon be better.”
While Paul Müller, assisted by one of the Delawares who stood at the entrance of the tent, carried the youth into the open air, and employed the restoratives which his experience suggested, the chief mused upon the words which he had last heard, and inquired, addressing himself to Reginald, “What said the Black Father of his life and liberty being given by Wingenund?”
“Tell the chief, Ethelston, what has befallen, and how you and Paul Müller were rescued by Wingenund. In my deep anxiety for my suffering friend, I was satisfied with seeing that you had returned in safety, and never inquired how you escaped.”
Ethelston drew near to the wounded chief, so that he might distinctly hear every syllable spoken, and said, “War–Eagle, as surely as Prairie–bird owes her life and safety to your devoted courage, so surely do the Father and I owe our lives and liberty to that of Wingenund. Can you listen now, and follow me while I tell you all that has happened?”
The chief gave a silent nod of assent, and Ethelston proceeded in the simple language of true feeling, to relate to him the events recorded in the last chapter. At the commencement of the narrative, the chief, expecting, probably, that the escape had been effected by some successful disguise or stratagem, closed his eyes, as if oppressed by the torturing pains that shot through his frame; but he opened them with awakened interest, when the scene of the council was described, and at the mention of Mahéga’s name, he ejaculated “Ha!”—his countenance assumed a fierce expression, and his hand unconsciously grasped the war–club that lay beside him.
Reginald listened with deep interest, and even Lita, who had hitherto appeared insensible to every thing except the sufferings of her beloved lord, threw back the long hair from her eyes, marvelling what this might be that so excited and revived him; but when Ethelston related the catastrophe, how Mahéga had thrown his club, slightly grazing the youth, and how the latter had, in presence of the assembled Crows, killed and scalped the great Osage, the breast of the Delaware warrior heaved with proud emotions, which quelled for the moment all sense of the pains that racked his frame: his eye lightened with the fire of other days, and waving the war–club over his head, he shouted, for the last time, the war–cry of his tribe.
As the chief fell back exhausted upon his rude pillow, the gentle voice of Prairie–bird was heard from the adjoining compartment of the tent, calling Lita to explain the meaning of the loud and unexpected cry by which she had been aroused from her slumber. Lita withdrew; and while her mistress made her rapid and simple toilet, informed her of the safe return of the Black Father and Wingenund, and that the latter having been seized with a sudden illness, the friend of Reginald had remained by the chief, and had communicated some intelligence, which seemed to affect him with the most extravagant joy and excitement.
So anxious was the maiden to see her beloved preceptor, and so hastily did she fold the kerchief in the form of a turban round her head, that several of her dark tresses escaped from beneath it, and fell over her neck. The first dress that came to her hand was one made from a deep–blue Mexican shawl, of ample dimension, given to her by the missionary. Fastening this round her slender waist with an Indian girdle, and a pair of mocassins upon her delicate feet, she went forth, catching up as she left the tent a scarf, which she threw carelessly over her shoulders. Greeting War–Eagle hastily, but affectionately, as she passed, she flew with a glowing cheek and beating heart to the spot where the missionary still bent with anxious solicitude over the reviving form of Wingenund.
“My father—my dear father!” she exclaimed, seizing his hand; “God be praised for thy safe return!”
The venerable man embraced her tenderly, and after contemplating for a moment her countenance beaming with filial affection, he placed his outspread hands upon her head, saying, with impressive solemnity, “May the blessing of God rest upon thee, my beloved child, and upon all near and dear to thee, for ever!”