THE NEGOTIATION SET ON FOOT BY REGINALD FOR THE RELEASE OF HIS FRIENDS.—BESHA BECOMES AN IMPORTANT PERSONAGE.

Scarcely had War–Eagle entered within the breastwork by the side of his friend, ere his eager and indefatigable spirit prompted him to inspect the defences of the new camp, and to guard every approach open to the attacks of their dangerous neighbours. On this service Baptiste willingly agreed to accompany the chief; and while they were thus employed, Reginald undertook the painful task of communicating to Prairie–bird the intelligence that her beloved instructor was, with his friend Ethelston, a captive in the hands of the Crows.

Trials and sufferings of her own the maiden could bear with fortitude; but her feelings towards the missionary were those of the fondest daughter towards a parent; and when she thought of the risk that be incurred of ill–usage or death at the hands of his captors, she burst into tears, and exclaimed, “Oh, Reginald! cannot he be rescued ere it be too late?”

At the sound of that voice, and the sight of those tears, Reginald’s heart would have prompted him to rush headlong into the camp of the Upsarokas; but he felt that he would thereby only sacrifice his own life without effecting the object in view; and, moreover, he was by no means certain whether MahÉga and his party had conveyed their prisoner to the central camp.

The doubt and anxiety of his mind were plainly visible on his countenance, when a low voice whispered in his ear, “May Wingenund speak to Netis?”

“Surely, dear brother,” said Reginald, laying his hand kindly on the youth’s shoulder, “when I remember that it was Wingenund who guided me over the prairie to his sister’s tent, I were worse than ungrateful to reject his counsel now!”

“That young woman,” he replied, pointing to the captive bride seated in the corner of the tent, “is dear to the Upsaroka chief; she is his youngest wife, and his heart is warm towards her. Let the one–eyed stranger from the unknown tribes, who speaks many tongues, go back to the Crow camp, and tell the chief that if his prisoners are hurt, his bride shall be burnt alive; if they are set free, she shall return unhurt to his lodge.”

“It is a brave device, dear Wingenund, and shall be executed without loss of time; but can we trust the stranger?”

“Methinks you may,” said Prairie–bird, “for he received his wound in defending me from those cruel men.”

“True,” replied Reginald; “let my brother speak to him in the Delaware tongue, and explain the message he is to bear.”

“It is well,” answered the youth; adding, with an arch look, “and let Netis not send him away with empty hands. There is cunning in the stranger’s eye, he knows that MahÉga is poor; and he will rather make friends with those who have something to give.”

“Be it so,” said Reginald, laughing; and he forthwith desired one of his men to select from a package containing knives, powder, tobacco, and cloth, a quantity equal to the usual Indian price for a horse. Wingenund, having waited in silence the return of the messenger, addressed the prisoner as follows:—

“Has the stranger a name in his tribe?”

“He is called Besha in the southern prairies.”

“Besha dwells among the Crows. They have shed the blood of white men and Delawares in battle; his scalp belongs to those who have taken him.”

The horse–dealer bowed in silence, and the youth continued:

“But the heart of the white chief is great; he will not take Besha’s life, neither will he bind his limbs. Besha is free to go where he likes.”

The horse–dealer stared as if he did not quite believe his ears; but Wingenund, without appearing to notice his surprise, proceeded.

“That is not all. Besha received a wound in defending Olitipa from the Washashee. The white chief’s hand is open; it is quick to reward good deeds, and to punish bad ones; the presents in that package, of knives and cloth, tobacco and powder, are for Besha: he may return to the Upsaroka camp, and his friends shall not say that he comes with empty hands.”

The deep–set eye of the horse–dealer gleamed with pleasure as he fixed it on the welcome bale, and heard these words. His first movement was to rise from the ground, and place the right hands of Reginald and of Wingenund on his heart in token of gratitude; then turning towards the latter, he inquired, “Is there a dark cloud over the Upsaroka bride? Will the white chief kill her, or make her a slave?”

“Let Besha open his ears,” replied the youth, earnestly, “and let not the wind blow away good counsel. The Washashee and the Upsaroka have taken captive two white men from this band; these have killed no red man; they have done no harm. If any hurt be done to them, or their lives be taken, the Upsaroka bride shall be burnt before the next setting sun; but if they are sent back free and unhurt, she shall return to her husband the same hour, and a present four times as great as this shall be given to Besha.”

Having thus spoken, the youth placed the package in the horse–dealer’s hands, and made him a sign to go. Before obeying this hint, the latter whispered a few words to Bending–willow, in which he comforted her with the assurance that he would labour incessantly for her release; after which he departed towards the Crow camp, with a gait somewhat tottering and uncertain, from the joint effect of the weight of his burthen and the wound that he had so lately received.

We will now leave Reginald engaged in the sad yet dear employment of comforting his betrothed, and striving, by a thousand suggestions, to relieve her anxiety respecting the fate of her beloved instructor, and her lover’s friend. Neither will we follow War–Eagle and Baptiste in securing the important post which they had so unexpectedly won; but we will return to the Crow camp, where MahÉga had newly arrived with his prisoners, and where every thing was in a state of alarm and confusion.

Great had been the panic consequent on the double defeat which they had sustained; nor had its effects been entirely removed by the successful blow last struck by MahÉga, and the capture of the two white men. The Osage chief had lost all his warriors, with the exception of four, his baggage and ammunition were in the hands of the enemy, and he well knew that his only remaining chance of retaining the support of his allies, was in vigorously pursuing the success which he had so opportunely gained. The Crow chief, on the other hand, disheartened by the loss and disgrace which had befallen his tribe, and vexed beyond measure at the detention of his son’s favourite wife, justly attributed both these misfortunes to an alliance which had brought no increase either to his power or his wealth.

Such was the state of parties when the council of the Upsarokas met to decide upon the fate of their prisoners. The debate being carried on in their own language, MahÉga was unable to gather the sentiments of the several speakers, and he declined to sit in the circle, but stood leaning against the outer post of the council lodge, his quick eye bent upon the countenance of each successive speaker, as if he would read there the purport of his harangue. One fierce and hot–headed warrior proposed that the prisoners should be instantly put to death, and a sudden attack be made with their whole force on the opposite hill, which would be easily recovered, and an abundance of plunder acquired. An older Indian next addressed the meeting in a persuasive tone, that suited well the sharp and cunning expression of his countenance. He argued, that the Crows had derived no advantage, but rather loss and misfortune, from their alliance with MahÉga, and that it was their interest to make friends with the newly arrived band, who were more rich and powerful; wherefore he advised that the lives of the prisoners should for the present he spared.

The debate was at its height, and the assembly apparently divided in opinion, when Besha entered the council–lodge, and sat down in the outer circle near to the entrance. All eyes were turned to him, as the report of his capture had already spread through the village, and his wasted appearance, as well as the bandages over his neck and arm, showed that he had been wounded in the late affray. After a brief silence, the chief desired that he would relate what had occurred, a command which the horse–dealer obeyed without hesitation.

Although not gifted with any orational powers, he was a shrewd fellow, thoroughly versed in all the wiles of Indian diplomacy, and well aware, as a resident guest among the Crows, that his best chance of a favourable hearing was to frame his speech according to their interests, which happened in the present instance to tally with his own. In relating the events which had occurred in the opposite camp, he exaggerated the strength and wealth of the enemy, dwelling at large upon the clemency shown to himself, and upon the desire evinced for peace; stating, in conclusion, that he was the bearer of a specific message, or proposal, to the great chief. At this announcement there was a general murmur of curiosity, and MahÉga bit his lip with vexation at his inability to understand what was going on.

At a signal from the chief, Besha proceeded to inform the council, that Bending–willow, the bride of their favourite and absent war–leader, was now a captive; and he recounted faithfully the circumstances under which she had visited the white tent with him, and the terrible threats held out respecting her in the event of any injury being done to the white prisoners. The effect of this announcement was so great, that it was visible even to MahÉga; nor was he surprised when Besha explained to him, by order of the chief, that the council had decided upon sparing the lives of the white men, at least until the return of the war–leader and his band of braves, now absent on a foray into the country of the Black–feet.

Agreeably to this decision, Paul MÜller and Ethelston were confined in a lodge adjoining that of the chief, under a Crow guard, to whom strict orders were given to prevent their escape, and also to protect them against any attempt on the part of MahÉga or his followers. Besha was allowed to see them, and they learnt from him that their friends had been completely successful, and had recaptured the Great Medicine of the tent, as well as the ammunition and baggage. He further informed them, that he would do all in his power to effect their release; adding a significant hint that he should not be unwilling to receive tangible proofs of their gratitude.

The captives were, upon the whole, much comforted by this interview; and on his departure, Ethelston said, addressing his companion, “Reverend father, we have cause to be grateful for the intelligence communicated to us by this man, inasmuch as we expected no less than to be put to an immediate and perhaps a cruel death. Yet, methinks, for a messenger of good tidings, he has the most uncomely and villanous countenance that ever I beheld.”

“I will not say that his face recommends him,” said Paul MÜller, smiling; “albeit the expression thereof may have been altered for the worse by the loss of an eye. I have seen him more than once before among the tribes bordering upon the Mexican frontier, and if my memory serves me, he bore the reputation of being a crafty and designing knave in his vocation; but I never heard him charged with cruelty or thirst of blood.”

“What, then, do you think are the motives for the friendly exertions which he professes to make in our behalf?”

“We will hope that they are partly owing to a grateful sense of the treatment he has experienced at the hands of our friend Reginald, and partly from the expectation of presents and rewards, which the Osage is no longer in a condition to offer. Meanwhile, we must solace ourselves in our captivity with the reflection, that my beloved pupil is safe under the charge of friends upon whose fidelity and devotion we can fully rely.”

Leaving the captives to comfort each other with these and other similar suggestions, we will return to Reginald Brandon, who forgot not, even in the enjoyment of Prairie–bird’s society, to occupy himself constantly in devising plans for their liberation. In these he was warmly seconded by War–Eagle and Baptiste; but, after carefully reconnoitring the Crow camp, they agreed that it was too strong to be carried by open attack by their small party, especially as they had learnt from Besha that the husband of Bending–willow, the son of the great chief, had just returned with his band, consisting of fifty chosen warriors, from a successful foray into the Black–foot country.

The wily horse–dealer was allowed, in his mixed capacity of interpreter and envoy, to pass from camp to camp; and, as both parties were desirous of securing his co–operation, presents were liberally heaped upon him; and his grey eye twinkled, as he cast it upon the increasing pile of goods at the back of his lodge. “There will soon be enough to exchange for a hundred beaver–skins,” said he to himself; “then Besha will look for some fine horses, and go towards the east.”

While he was thus congratulating himself on his prospects of future wealth, a tall figure darkened the entrance of his lodge, and the young war–chief stood before him. “White–bull[68] would speak with Besha,” said the former in a haughty tone, adjusting with dignity the cream–coloured robe from which he took his designation.

“Let the young chief be seated,” replied the horse–dealer, making at the same time a signal to one of his lads to offer food and a pipe to his guest.

White–Bull’s first impulse was to refuse this hospitality, but he checked it; and having tasted a morsel, and emitted two voluminous puffs of smoke from the pipe, he turned to the horse–dealer, and said in a stern deep tone, “Bending–willow is a prisoner in the white tent! Besha took her there, he must bring her back, for the heart of White–bull is dark—there is no light or pleasure without her.”

“The will of the bride was strong,” he replied; “she would take no counsel from Besha; if he did not go with her she would go alone to consult the Medicine of the tent; Besha went with her that none might do her harm.”

“The ears of White–bull are not to be tickled by the songs of birds,” said the young chief, fiercely. “Besha took her to the white men’s camp, and he must bring her back before two suns have set, or his heart shall be cut out from his body.”

“White–bull knows that there are two white prisoners here; let him give them to Besha, and he will bring back Bending–willow before the sun is in the west.”

“The white prisoners belong to the war–council,” said the young man sullenly. “White–bull cares not whether they live or die; but he wants his bride, whom the fool Besha led away to a place where she was caught like a beaver in a trap; if he does not bring her back within two sunsets, the blade of this knife shall be red. White–bull has spoken, and his words are not wind!” So saying, the violent youth passed with angry strides from the horse–dealer’s lodge.

Besha now found himself in an awkward predicament, in endeavouring to extricate himself from which his first step was to consult the young chief’s father, hoping that the latter would give his consent at once to release the prisoners for the recovery of the favourite bride. But the old man would not agree to the proposal, giving as his reason, that the council had resolved either to take the lives of the prisoners, or to make the enemy pay many horses and much goods for their ransom. “Besha has a tongue,” continued the crafty old man; “he can speak with the white men; he can tell them that if the bride is given up, their friends shall be returned; they will believe him, and all will be well.”

Besha, though not particularly scrupulous in his morality, was startled at first by this proposal of treacherous and deliberate falsehood towards one who had spared his life and had given him his liberty, besides loading him with presents; but his conscience being of an extremely elastic texture, he soon reconciled himself to the idea by the reflection that it was his best, if not his only chance of saving his life from the fury of the incensed White–bull. He made no reply to the old chief; but, as he went away, the two rogues exchanged a look which satisfied them that they understood each other.

The horse–dealer proceeded without delay to the lodge where Paul MÜller and Ethelston were confined, into which he was admitted by their guards. Having explained to the missionary that he was about to visit the white men’s camp for the purpose of liberating him and his companion by the recovery of the captive bride, he desired to be furnished with a sign by which they would be induced to give her up without hesitation; for Besha, in his rambles on the Mexican frontier, had frequently met with the Spanish traders, and although he could not read letters himself, he knew how they were used for the interchange of communication at a distance.

Before giving any reply, Paul MÜller explained the state of affairs to his companion, and asked his counsel.

“Methinks we should trust the fellow,” said Ethelston, “for he has hitherto befriended us: but let us not write any thing that can endanger the safety of Prairie–bird.”

“I agree with you, my son,” he replied, “and will write accordingly.”

So saying, he took a small pocket–book from his breast, and wrote with a pencil upon a leaf of it the following words:

“Ethelston and Paul MÜller send their affectionate greeting. The bearer says that he can liberate them if the captive bride is restored. Reginald Brandon will consult with those about him, and do what he thinks best. Let the safety of Prairie–bird, and of those who are now her protectors, be the first object. Glad and thankful should we be to embrace our dear friends again; but we are well and cheerful here: in joy and in sorrow, in life and in death, we are in the hands of One who rules all for the best. Farewell.”

Having received the paper, Besha lost no time in setting off to the opposite camp.