THE ROOT–DIGGER MAKES FRIENDS WITH THE PARTY.—AN ADVENTURE WITH A GRISLY BEAR.—THE CONDUCT OF WAR–EAGLE.

No sooner had Prairie–bird gained the confidence of the Root–digger, than War–Eagle, Reginald, and the other chief hunters approached him with signs of amity and friendship: nevertheless, he continued shy and suspicious, still refusing to receive either food or present from any hand excepting that of the maiden. They were obliged, therefore, to make her their interpreter, and to endeavour, through her, to acquire the information of which they were in want respecting the scarcity or abundance of deer and bison in the neighbourhood.

In the discharge of this office, Prairie–bird discovered so much natural quickness, and at the same time so complete a knowledge of the Indian language of signs, that Reginald looked on with the most intense interest, while the maiden, whose beauty was so strongly contrasted with the hideous face and figure of the mountain dwarf, maintained with him a conversation of some length, in the course of which she learnt that there were few, if any, bison in the neighbourhood, but that the argali, or mountain sheep, and deer of several kinds, were to be found at no great distance. She succeeded also, at length, in so far disarming his suspicions, that he agreed to act as guide to Baptiste and Reginald in pursuit of game, and to return with them to reap the reward of his trouble in further presents from the hand of Prairie–bird.

The sturdy backwoodsman did not seem to place much confidence in the fidelity of his new acquaintance, and bluntly observed to Pierre, “For sure, I never saw an uglier crittur, and his eyes rolled from side to side with an underlook that I don’t half like: perhaps he’ll lead us into some ambush of Upsarokas, or other mountain Ingians, rather than to a herd of deer.”

“You need not be afraid, Baptiste,” replied his brother hunter, laughing; “these poor Root–diggers are harmless and honest in their own miserable way. They are said to belong to the Shoshonies, or Snake–tribe, and are the best of all the Ingians hereabouts; not such fighting devils as the Black–feet, nor such thieves as the Crows, but friendly to the Whites. This poor crittur has been digging for roots many a long day with that sharpened flint, which you see in his hand. After you have started on your hunting trip, make him a present of a good knife. I have watched his eyes roving from belt to belt; he would give his ears for one, and yet is too frightened to ask for it.”

“Thanks for the hint, Pierre,” said his companion, looking carefully to the priming of his rifle; “thanks for the hint. I will carry a spare one with me on purpose; and in case we should fall in with a fat herd, do you, friend War–Eagle, give us the company of one of your stoutest men, that he may assist in bringing in enough meat for the party.”

On hearing these words, Prairie–bird inquired of the Root–digger, by signs, whether one of the mules could not go over the hunting–ground. The savage looked first at the animal, then at the fair speaker, and then, with a grin, gave a most decided indication of a negative.

The preparations for the hunt were soon made. Prairie–bird urged Reginald in a low voice, not to remain too long absent, a command which he faithfully promised to obey; and just as he was about to set forth, he led her up to the chief, and said, “War–Eagle will take care of his sister?”

The Indian’s proud heart was gratified by this simple proof of his friend’s unbounded confidence; he saw that no jealousy, no doubt of his victory over self, lurked in the breast of Reginald, and he replied, “While War–Eagle has life to protect her, Olitipa shall be safe as in the lodge of Tamenund.”

Reginald turned and followed Baptiste and the Root–digger, who had already taken their way up the valley, accompanied by the Delaware selected to aid in carrying home the anticipated booty.

Leaving them to toil up one rocky steep after another, wondering at the enduring agility of the Shoshonie dwarf, who seemed almost as active and sure–footed as one of the mountain–goats of which they were in search, we will return to the valley where War–Eagle’s camp was posted, which formed, as we have before noticed, a pleasing contrast to the savage scenery around. The stream that flowed through its centre, fresh from the snowy bosom of the mountain was cool and clear as crystal, and the shade of the trees which grew along its banks was delightfully refreshing after the fatigues of a summer march, even in a region, the elevation of which rendered the atmosphere extremely cold before the rising and after the setting of the sun. Prairie–bird felt an irresistible desire to stroll by the banks of this stream,—a desire that was no sooner mentioned by Lita to War–Eagle than he at once assented, assuring her that she might do so in safety, as his scouts were on the look–out both above and below in the valley, so that no enemy could approach unperceived. At the same time he gave instructions in the camp that none of the men should wander to that quarter, in order that it might be left altogether undisturbed.

Shortly afterwards Prairie–bird set forth, taking in her hand a mocassin, which she was ornamenting with stained quills for the foot of Reginald, and accompanied by her faithful Lita, who bore upon her hand a bundle containing various articles belonging to her mistress and to herself, on which she was about to exercise her talents as a laundress.

They had pursued their respective avocations for several hours without interruption, when on a sudden they heard the report of a rifle and the voice of a man shouting, as if engaged in the pursuit of game. This was an occurrence to which both were so much accustomed, that they paid at first little attention to it; but they felt some alarm when they saw one of their party, a white hunter, coming towards them as if running for his life. Before reaching the spot where they were seated, he threw his rifle upon the ground and climbed into a tree; immediately afterwards a young male, not full–grown, of the species called the grisly or rocky mountain bear, came up, limping as if wounded by the rifle so lately discharged, and missing the object that he had been following, looked around him, howling with mingled rage and pain. At length he caught sight of Prairie–bird and her companion; and setting up a more loud and angry howl, trotted towards them. Unfortunately, the spot to which they had retired was a narrow strip of wooded ground, projecting into a curve of the stream above mentioned, and they could not retreat towards the camp without approaching yet nearer to the wounded bear. There was no time for reflection; and in the sudden emergency, Prairie–bird hesitated whether she should not adopt the desperate alternative of throwing herself into the water, in hopes that the stream might carry her out of the reach of danger.

At this crisis the crack of a rifle was heard, and the young bear fell, but again rose and struggled forward, as if determined not to be disappointed of its prey. Seeing the imminent danger of the woman, the hunter who had climbed the tree dropped lightly to the ground, and catching up his rifle, attacked the half–exhausted animal, which still retained sufficient strength to render too near an approach extremely dangerous. War–Eagle—for he it was who had fired the last opportune shot—now sprang forward from the bushes, reloading his rifle as he came, in order to decide the issue of the conflict, when a loud shriek from Lita reached his ear; and on turning round he beheld the dam of the wounded cub, a she–bear of enormous bulk, trotting rapidly forward to the scene of action; the hunter was so much engaged in dealing blow after blow with the butt of his rifle, that he had noticed neither her approach nor the warning shout of War–Eagle, when one stroke from her terrible paw struck him bleeding and senseless to the ground. For an instant she smelt and moaned over her dying offspring; then, as if attracted by the female dress, pursued her way with redoubled speed and fury towards the spot where Lita clung, with speechless terror, to the arm of her mistress. The latter, although fully alive to the imminency of the peril, lost not her composure at this trying moment. Breathing a short prayer to Heaven for support and protection, she fixed her eyes upon War–Eagle, as if conscious that the only human possibility of safety now lay in his courage and devotion.

Then it was that the Indian chief evinced the high and heroic properties of his character; for although every second brought the infuriated brute near and more near to her who had been from youth his heart’s dearest treasure, he continued, as he advanced, to load the rifle with a hand as steady as if he had been about to practise at a target; and just as the ball was rammed home, and the priming carefully placed in the pan, he threw himself directly in front of the bear, so that it was only by first destroying him that she could possibly approach the objects of his care. It was a moment, and but a moment, of dreadful suspense, for the bear swerved neither to the right nor to the left from her onward path; and it was not until the muzzle of the rifle was within three yards of her forehead that he fired, taking his aim between her eyes; shaking her head as if more angered than hurt, she raised her huge form on her hind legs, and advanced to seize him, when he drew his pistol and discharged it into her chest, springing at the same time lightly back, almost to the spot to which Prairie–bird and her trembling companion seemed rooted as if by a spell. Although both shots had struck where they were aimed, the second appeared to have taken no more effect than the first, and the bear was again advancing to the attack, when War–Eagle, catching up from the ground a blanket which Lita had brought down to the brook, held it extended before him until the monster sprung against it, and with her claws rent it into shreds; not, however, before it had served for an instant the purpose of a veil; profiting by that opportunity, the heroic Delaware dashed in between her fore–paws and plunged his long knife into her breast. Short, though terrible, was the struggle that ensued; the bear was every moment growing weaker from the effect of the shot–wounds, and from loss of blood, and although she lacerated him dreadfully with her claws and teeth, she was not able to make him relax the determined grasp with which he clung to her, plunging the fatal knife again and again into her body, until at length she fell exhausted and expiring into a pool of her own blood, while the triumphant war–cry of the Delaware rung aloud through wood and vale.[83]

ill482

Alarmed by the shots, the yells of the dying bear, and the shouts of the chief, several of the party now hastened towards the scene of action; but before they could reach it Reginald Brandon, who was just returning into the camp with the results of a successful chase, caught the mingled sounds, and outstripping all his companions, arrived, panting and breathless, on the spot. For a moment he gazed on the strange and fearful spectacle that met his view. The Delaware chief, supporting his head upon his hand, still reclined against the body of his grim antagonist, his countenance calm in its expression, but both his face and his whole form covered with recent blood; at his feet lay Lita, perfectly unconscious, and sprinkled with the same crimson stream; while at his side knelt Prairie–bird breathing over her heroic preserver the fervent outpourings of a grateful heart! Another moment, and Reginald was beside her; he understood instinctively all that had passed, and no sooner had ascertained that his betrothed was safe and unhurt, than he turned with affectionate and anxious solicitude to inquire into the condition of his friend. “Olitipa is safe and War–Eagle is happy,” replied the chief.

By this time the Delawares were all gathered round their beloved leader, and in obedience to an order which he gave in a low voice, one of them threw a blanket over his torn and blood–stained dress, while another brought from the stream a bowl of fresh water, which Prairie–bird took from the messenger, and held to his parched lips; then, wetting a cloth, she washed the blood from his face, cooled his hot brow, and inquired in a tone of sisterly affection, whether he found himself recruited and refreshed.

“The hand of Olitipa is medicine against pain, and her voice brings comfort!” replied the chief gently. “War–Eagle is quite happy.”

Not so were those around him. His stern warriors stood in sad, unbroken silence; the features of the hardy guide worked with an emotion that he strove in vain to conceal, for he knew that the Delaware would not have retained his sitting posture by the carcase of the bear had not his wounds been grievous and disabling; Reginald Brandon held the hand of his friend, unable to speak, save a few broken words of affection and gratitude: while Prairie–bird found at length relief for her oppressed heart in a flood of tears. So much engrossed were they all by their own feelings, that none seemed to notice the anguish of Lita, who still lay in a pool of blood at the feet of him whom she had long and secretly loved, giving no further signs of life than a succession of smothered wailings and groans that escaped from her unconscious lips.

The only countenance among those present that retained its unmoved composure was that of the chief himself; and a bright ray shot from his dark eye when one of the bravest of his warriors laid down before him the claws of the huge bear and her cub, which he had cut off according to custom, and now presented as a trophy of victory.

Baptiste and Pierre having conferred together for a few minutes, the former whispered to Reginald Brandon that Prairie–bird and Lita should be withdrawn for a short time, while War–Eagle’s wounds were examined, and his real condition ascertained. Agreeably to this suggestion, Reginald led his betrothed weeping from the spot. Some of the Delawares and hunters removed Lita; but not without difficulty, as she still clung with frantic energy to the torn garments of the chief; and, as they bore her away, they now for the first time observed that she had received some severe scratches in her fruitless endeavour to rescue him from the struggles of the dying bear.

When all had retired to some distance, and there remained only by the Delaware the oldest of his warriors, Pierre and Baptiste, the latter gently lifted the blanket from the shoulders of the wounded man, saying, “Let my brother allow his friends to see the hurts which he has received, that they may endeavour to relieve or heal them.”

The chief nodded his assent, and no sign, save the dew that stood upon his brow, betrayed the agony and the sense of exhaustion that he endured. When the tattered remnants of his hunting dress were removed, a spectacle so terrible was presented to the eyes of the guide, that even his iron nerves could not endure it, and, covering his face with his hands, he groaned aloud, while the exclamation, “Dieu de la misÉricorde!” broke from his lips in the language that they had first been taught to speak.

The left arm of the chief was bitten through and through, and so dreadfully mangled that no skill of surgery could restore it; the shoulders and chest had been lacerated by the fore–paws, some of the wounds being wide and gaping, as if made by a saw or hatchet; these, however, might possibly yield to time and careful treatment; but the injuries that he had received in the lower part of the body were such as to leave no hope of recovery, for the bear, in her last dying struggles, had used the terrible claws of her hind feet with such fatal effect, that the lacerated entrails of the sufferer protruded through the wound.

Baptiste saw at a glance that all was over, and that any attempt at closing the wounds would only cause additional and needless pain. War–Eagle watched his countenance, and reading there a verdict that confirmed his own sensations, gave him his hand and smiled. The rough woodsman wrung it with ill–dissembled emotion, and turned away his head that his Indian friend might not see the moisture that gathered in his eye.

A brief consultation now ensued, during which it was arranged that the carcases of the bears should be carried away, and the wounded chief gently moved to a soft grassy spot a few yards distant, where his wounds might be so far dressed and bandaged as to prevent further effusion of blood. It was also agreed that the tent and the lodges should be brought to the spot, so that he might receive all the care and attention that his desperate case admitted.

These arrangements having been made, Baptiste walked slowly towards the place where the rest of the party awaited in deep anxiety the result of his report. As he drew near with heavy, lingering steps, and his weather–beaten countenance overspread with gloom, they saw too well the purport of his message, and none had courage enough to be the first to bid him speak. Prairie–bird clung to the arm of Reginald for support; the Delawares leaned upon their rifles in silence; and even the rough hunters of the prairie wore an aspect of sadness that contrasted strongly with their habitual bold and reckless bearing.

Recovering his composure by a powerful effort, the guide looked gravely around him as soon as he reached the centre of the semicircle in which they stood, and addressing himself first to Reginald and the white men, said, “There is no cure for the wounds of the Delaware; were the Black Father himself among us, his skill and his medicine would be in vain.” Then turning to the Delawares, he added in their own tongue, “The sun of the LenapÉ Chief is setting. The Great Spirit has sent for him, and he must obey: let his warriors gather round him to smooth his path through the dark valley.”

Having thus spoken, the guide hastened to carry into effect the arrangements above mentioned, and in a short time the little camp was moved to the spot where the Delaware reclined against the stump of a withered alder, over which his followers had already thrown some blankets and buffalo–robes to soften his couch. Hither was brought the tent of Prairie–bird, which was so pitched that the outer compartment might shelter the wounded chief, and might afford to Reginald and Prairie–bird the means of watching him constantly, and administering such relief in his extremity as was within their power.

Lita’s energies, both of mind and body, seemed entirely paralysed, she neither wept nor sobbed, but sate in a corner of the tent, whence she gazed intently, yet with a vacant expression, upon the sufferer.

He alone of the whole party maintained throughout a dignified and unmoved composure; nor could either the pangs he endured, nor the certain prospect of a lingering death, draw from him a word of complaint. He smiled gratefully as Prairie–bird from time to time raised the refreshing cup of water to his lips, or wiped away the drops which weakness and agony wrung from his forehead. Once, and once only, did a look of gloom and discontent pass over his countenance.

Reginald observing it, took his hand and inquired, “Is there a dark thought in my brother’s heart, let him speak it?”

“There is,” replied the chief, with stern energy, “MahÉga, the bloody–hand—the Washashee wolf—the slayer of my tribe, he lives, and War–Eagle must go to the hunting–fields of the brave, and when his fathers say to him, ‘where is the scalp of MahÉga?’ his tongue will be silent, and his hands will be empty.”

“His hands will not be empty,” replied Reginald, breathing his own impassioned feelings in the figurative language of his friend. “His hands will not be empty; he can show the scalps of many enemies; he may tell the ancient people that he was the war–chief of their race, that neither Washashee nor Dahcotah ever saw his back; and that, to save his sister’s life, he gave his own. Where is the warrior who would not envy the fame of War–Eagle, and who would not rejoice in the glory of such a death?”

These words, and the tone of earnest feeling in which they were spoken, touched the right chord in the heart of the chief; he pressed the hand of his friend, and a smile of triumph shot across his features like a sunbeam breaking through the thick darkness of a thunder cloud.