WAR–EAGLE’S FUNERAL.—THE PARTY COMMENCE THEIR HOMEWARD JOURNEY.—BESHA EXERTS HIS DIPLOMATIC TALENTS FOR THE LAST TIME, AND RECEIVES SEVERAL REWARDS, WITH SOME OF WHICH HE WOULD WILLINGLY HAVE DISPENSED.

It may well be imagined what a gloom was cast over the whole party by the death of the Delaware leader; not only among those who, like Reginald, Wingenund, and Prairie–bird, mourned for him as for a departed brother, but even among the rough hunters and woodsmen, to whom he had endeared himself no less by his dauntless courage than by a thousand acts of kindness and generosity. As for his own trusty LenapÉ warriors their spirit seemed entirely broken; too proud to weep or lament, they walked to and fro by the spot where his remains still rested, casting upon the dark cloth by which they were covered desponding and melancholy looks; and when Baptiste, whom they esteemed as the long–tried friend of their late chief, tried to offer a few words of consolation, hinting also at the virtues and qualities of the surviving brother, they shook their heads and returned to cherish their grief, like the wife of Phinehas, who when she heard that her husband and her father–in–law were dead, and the Ark captured, regarded not the consolation of her new–born child, but called it Ichabod, saying “The glory is departed from Israel.”

“Ethelston,” said Reginald to his friends, “methinks the sooner we strike our camp, and move from this sad spot, the better: it is necessary, from the progress that mortification has made in the frame of our lamented friend, that he should be buried immediately. Let us speak to Wingenund, and see whether he wishes it performed according to our customs, or according to those of his own people; for in this we ought not to dictate to him.”

Having joined the youth, whom they found standing in an attitude of dejection at no great distance, Reginald, after a few words of kindly sympathy, proposed to him the subject under discussion. To the surprise of both, they found him quite prepared for it. “Yes,” he said; “War–Eagle said to Wingenund what he wished, and it shall be done this day. First let us obey his commands about the Washashee; let them be called before the tent, and let the hunters and the LenapÉ be summoned too.”

This was soon done; and the party being assembled, the Osages were once more brought forward, their limbs having been freed from the thongs by which they had been bound; and the general stock of meat, fresh as well as dried, was also, by desire of Wingenund, placed before the tent. These preliminaries being completed, the young chief addressed them as follows: “Washashee, it is known to you that War–Eagle, forgiving your bad deeds, gave you your lives—the LenapÉ respect the wishes of their great chief, and will not send you away with empty hands.” He then desired that a fair proportion of meat, a rifle, with a reasonable supply of ammunition, a knife, and a small package of Indian presents should be given to each of the Osages. These orders having been punctually, though reluctantly, obeyed by one of the Delaware warriors, Wingenund continued: “if the Washashee fear to enter upon the long home–path with so few men, they may camp under the shelter of the LenapÉ fires—they cannot be called brothers, but no harm shall be done to them.”

“The Washashee,” replied the powerful Indian who has before been mentioned as the spokesman of the Osages, and who now grasped his restored rifle with an air of fierce exultation—“the Washashee have no fear—they will go upon the path alone—they will not dwell a night by the fires of the LenapÉ camp. Wingenund is a young chief, and the LenapÉ need not be ashamed when they speak his name; his words and his years are few, but his deeds will be told where the council of warriors meet. His hand is open—but it is red with the blood of their great chief: the Washashee thank him, but they cannot call the LenapÉ brothers. The Washashee have no more to say; before the night falls, their feet will be far on the homeward path.”

So saying, the grim warrior stalked away with his three companions, the assembled party looking after them in silence, until their forms were lost behind a rock that projected into the valley.

“Proud and thankless scoundrels,” muttered Baptiste, half aloud to the hunter who stood nearest to him. “Had my opinion been taken, they should have been flogged with cow–hides out of the camp, and they might have found their way as they could to their cut–throat friends the Dahcotahs! ‘Twas always so with War–Eagle, and will be the same with Wingenund! When the skrimmage was over, and his blood was cool, there was no more cruelty in his natur’ than there is in that of a Philadelphy Quaker.”

Wingenund having spoken for a few minutes with the missionary, a party of half a dozen men were desired by the latter to dig a grave for the deceased chief under a scathed and picturesque pine that stood alone on a small natural mound near the river. It was a spot that seemed to have been framed by the hand of the Creator for a sepulchre, rising as it did in the centre of a wild and unfrequented vale, surrounded on all sides by precipitous rocks, beyond which rose in the distance the snow–clad summits of the gigantic mountain–range—the fittest natural emblem of Eternity; while round the base of the mound flowed the bubbling stream, a memento, no less apt, of the changeful and fleeting nature of all the things belonging to this earthly scene.

The descending sun was just beginning to gild the peaks of the Western Andes when the party assembled to pay the last tribute of affectionate regard to the mortal remains of their late leader. Prairie–bird and her faithful Lita attended, both having their faces veiled by a shawl, and the former supported by her newly restored brother; nor was there one of the party absent from the mournful ceremony, which was commenced (as soon as the body, still enveloped and bound in dark cloth, was placed near the grave,) by a brief address from Wingenund, in which he said:

“My brothers know that War–Eagle was a great chief; that the blood of many warriors ran in his veins. The enemies of the LenapÉ were his enemies, and their friends his friends. When their warriors went forth to battle, he was not the last; and when they returned, his war–club could tell a tale.” A deep murmur of assent was uttered by the Delawares, and Wingenund continued:—“War–Eagle loved the LenapÉ from his childhood; and in his last moments he prayed to the Great Spirit for their happiness. He also told Wingenund that Olitipa and the Black Father had read to him many wonderful things from the Great Spirit’s Book; that he had thought much of them, and found them very good, and very true: they had made his heart so glad, that he wished Wingenund and his LenapÉ brothers to hear them, that they might learn how to please the Great Spirit, and to obey His will. Wingenund promised War–Eagle, that when the Black Father told them the commands of the Great Spirit written in the book, the ears of the LenapÉ should be open to listen to the words of his wisdom, and to let his counsel guide their feet. My brothers, such were the wishes of War–Eagle, great chief of the UnÂmi band of the Ancient People. Wingenund has told them truly, and he intends to obey them himself: his years are yet too few, that he should advise others; let each of my brothers think of these things wisely, and act as the Great Spirit shall incline his heart.”

A long and profound silence followed this speech; after which Paul MÜller, approaching the mound, desired that the body might be lowered into the grave: when this was done, he addressed first the Delawares, setting forth the virtues of the deceased chieftain, and laying the greatest stress upon those which were of a more mild and peaceful character. He touched also most feelingly upon the occasion on which he had received the injuries from which he died; assuring the Delawares that no length of time, nor changes of life, would ever efface from the memory of Prairie–bird, or those to whom she was so dear, the devoted heroism of her deliverer. “But, my beloved brothers,” said he in conclusion, “great as was the gift that he gave to her, even his life for hers, he received from her a gift much greater; for it is my humble hope and belief, that through her entreaty and prayer, his eyes were open to see things that he had never seen before; and, having once seen their riches and their beauty, he desired that you, my brothers, should see them too. He learnt what, I fear, you cannot yet understand,—that it is the will of the Great Spirit that we should observe and study His works, and copy them. Is it true, my friends? Is there sense in my words?”

He paused for a reply. The elder Delawares looked at each other, and then, as if by mutual consent, nodded their assent.

The missionary continued:—“Well, then, the Great Spirit is merciful and just, kind and forgiving; loving peace and hating strife. How do we try to please him? By hating peace, and being swift to shed blood; by revenging where we ought to forgive, and dealing harshly by those on whom we ought to have mercy. The Osages who are just gone are wicked men; they have been guilty of treachery and cruelty; and you are disappointed that you were not permitted to kill them, and that Wingenund sent them away unhurt. They have been wicked, far more wicked, towards the Great Spirit; they have disobeyed His commands, despised His laws, destroyed the creatures of His hand, and have insulted Him and braved His anger for weeks, for months, and years! How has He treated them? He has given them water from His clouds, and has brought the herds of bison to their hunting–ground, and has given the sun to warm them by day, and the moon and stars to light their path by night? And if even now one of them—nay, the very worst among them, were to have his heart softened, and to turn to the Great Spirit, and to say, ‘My Father, in heaven, I am sorry for all the wrong that I have done, O forgive and guide me, for I wish to do so no more!’ it is written in that book, by the hand of the Great Spirit himself, that He would forgive that sorrowful man, and bless him, and turn the bitterness of his heart into gladness and joy sweeter than honey! These things, my dear brothers, are not learnt in a day; but, I thank God that by his blessing, and the affectionate and patient labours of Olitipa, the eyes of War–Eagle were opened to see them; and he desired that those whom he most loved should see and feel them like himself. We will now take our last farewell of him on earth, after the manner of those who love, fear, and obey the word of the Father of us all.”

Having thus spoken, the worthy missionary knelt by the side of the newly filled grave, and concluded the solemnities of the occasion by an affecting prayer in the English tongue; Reginald, Ethelston, and all the hunters and woodsmen, kneeling uncovered, and finally joining in that perfect model of supplication taught by the Redeemer himself to those who, in whatever age or clime, are called by His name.

Having paid these last honours to their departed friend, the leaders of the party withdrew to make the proposed arrangements for striking the camp on the following morning, and for settling the line and order of march.

The Delawares lingered for some time, as if unwilling to leave the remains of their beloved chief, and at length slowly retired, one by one, until there remained only our old friend Baptiste and a veteran Delaware, who, from his feats of hardihood, and the stern fierceness of his nature, was generally known by the name of Stony–heart.

“Grand–HÂche,” said the latter, addressing his companion, “it may be all very good what the Black Father says, but Stony–heart does not understand it. When War–Eagle said that the LenapÉ should not kill those who had taken the scalps of their warriors or of their women, the Mad Spirit must have got into his brain! Stony–heart has seen many winters, and has heard the talk of the wise men in council, but he never heard such words as these.”

It must be confessed that Baptiste was not in his heart a very strong advocate for the doctrine of forgiveness; we have already seen in a former chapter that he was rather disposed to favour the Indian law of retaliation; he answered, however, on this occasion cautiously.

“Stony–heart speaks true; yet he must remember that War–Eagle only desired that his LenapÉ brothers should hear what the Black Father had to say on this matter; they can then decide whether his words are idle or not. It will be easier for him to persuade the young than men who like us have known for forty winters that the custom of the woods, and of the prairie, is life for life, and scalp for scalp!”

“It will,” rejoined the other; “and Grand–HÂche will see that no good will follow from having spared the lives of those four Washashee dogs.”

With this prophetic observation, Stony–heart rejoined his comrades, and Baptiste joined the small group assembled before the door of the tent.

On the following morning the party began their homeward march, Wingenund leading the way, followed by his Delawares, and accompanied by Besha and the Crow guide, who had been sent for by a runner before daybreak. The packed mules and horses were placed in the centre under the special charge of Monsieur Perrot, whose fund of good–humour and resource had never failed him, and who now performed the office of a muleteer with the same readiness with which he fulfilled the respective duties of valet to Reginald, and cook, messman, and buffoon to the whole party. The rear was brought up by Ethelston and Reginald, the latter still keeping his post at the bridle of Nekimi, the line of march being closed by Baptiste and some of the most experienced hunters, while Pierre was sent forward to aid Wingenund, he being the most skilful and practised in the peculiar difficulties of the dangerous region which they were now about to traverse.

For several days all went on as well as could be expected. The heat was intense, and water was sometimes scarce; several of the mules and pack–horses dropped down from exhaustion, and were left behind; the stock of provisions was somewhat short, but the party twice fell in with a small herd of buffalo, from which they procured a tolerable supply; and, at camping time, they all assembled round the fire in front of Prairie–bird’s tent, and, after their frugal evening meal, wore away the time with conversation suited to the different groups into which the party divided itself, some talking over former campaigns, others cracking their jokes and enjoying the laugh which invariably followed Perrot’s determined attempts to explain himself in the Delaware tongue; while Reginald, Ethelston, and Prairie–bird lived over again the days of their childhood, or recounted to each other some of the most interesting incidents of the intervening years.

All remarked the changed aspect and increased gravity of Wingenund; his manner was indeed gentle and quiet as before, but the death of his brother, and the responsibility now entrusted to him, added to other serious matters which occupied his mind, seemed in him to have annihilated the interval between early youth and ripened manhood. First to rise before daybreak, and last to lie down at night, he seemed unconscious of fatigue, and resolved that on this occasion at least the Delawares should not from his neglect be reminded of the loss that they had so lately sustained. At night he visited the sentries, and saw that every one was at his allotted post; and on the march, whenever the nature of the ground rendered precaution necessary, scouts were sent forward to examine it, and to guard against ambush or surprise. Every evening he joined the little party before the tent, and never left it without wishing his sister (as he still called Prairie–bird) a night of rest, and asking a blessing from the lips of the Black Father.

The Crows behaved upon this occasion better than had been expected of them, camping always at a certain distance from the allied party, and observing faithfully the other conditions of the treaty. The guide, whom they had supplied, led the way towards the Great Prairie, by a valley considerably to the northward of that by which they had entered the mountain region; and Pierre soon perceived that its eastern termination was at a spot that was easily recognised, by all experienced trappers, as the “Devil’s Kettle,” owing to the steam that ascended from a hot–spring, celebrated for its medicinal qualities among the neighbouring tribes.

Here the fresh horses promised by the Crows were supplied, and an equal number of those exhausted and incapable of further travel, were left behind. Nekimi, alone of the whole quadruped band, seemed insensible alike to the scantiness of pasture, and the heat and fatigue of the journey. The fair burthen that he bore was as that of a feather compared to the powerful frame of his former rider when armed and equipped, and the noble animal seemed desirous of expressing his gratitude for the change, by rubbing his forehead against Reginald as he walked before him, or nibbling out of his hand a few young shoots of alder or willow, that he was now and then fortunate enough to cut by the half–dried bed of some mountain stream.

In this way they travelled forward without accident or adventure, until they reached the banks of a river of considerable size, which Pierre conjectured to be the head–water of the southern fork of the Neosho, or the Platte; and here they were to complete the terms of the treaty, and bid adieu to their Upsaroka friends, the opposite banks of the river not being considered within the limits of their hunting ground.

The ceremonials observed upon this occasion were much the same as the preceding, with the exception that Bending–willow paid a visit to Prairie–bird, received from her several presents, drank a cup of the wonderful black liquor, of which her husband had told her, namely, coffee sweetened with sugar, and told her fair hostess that his affections had not as yet strayed to any other of his spouses,—a fact, the truth of which was attested by her displaying, with the most ostentatious coquetry, the mirror–backed brush, of which he was more proud of than of any thing that he possessed.

Besha made himself wonderfully busy during the payment of the presents due to the Crows; and in one or two instances, when the latter claimed more than was recorded in Reginald’s memorandum, he stoutly maintained that the white men were right, and recommended the Crows to withdraw their pretensions: in so doing, he did not neglect to whisper every now and then to Baptiste or Pierre, a hint that he intended to be paid for his disinterested support.

All this was not lost upon White–bull, who, although he could not understand a word of what passed, felt nevertheless convinced that the interpreter was playing some under–game. He said nothing, however; and the distribution was satisfactorily completed, Wingenund and Reginald adding gratuitously several presents for the chiefs beyond those promised in the treaty. Besha, to the surprise of many of the Crows, who knew his avaricious disposition, went away, apparently well satisfied, with nothing more than a blanket and a knife; but they did not know that he had privately whispered to Baptiste that he would come by night to fetch away his stipulated snare of the presents (and that, too, a lion’s share), as the Crows might be jealous if they saw them, and might take them from him.

The two parties, having taken their final leave of each other, the task of guide devolved upon Pierre, who resolved not to cross the Platte that evening, it being now rather late, but to encamp where they were, while the Crows returned some dozen miles upon their trail before they encamped for the night. They had seen enough of the effective force and discipline of the allied band to deter them from attacking it, and prudently resolved to return to their own country, with the goods which they had already acquired, without loss or risk; although it becomes us, as veracious historians, to state (however little credit the statement may reflect upon White–bull) that it had been, from the first, his intention to attack and plunder the party, had their carelessness or neglect afforded him an opportunity of doing so with impunity.

Besha, having ascertained the spot selected for the Crow encampment, lingered behind their line of march, accompanied by the lad before mentioned, as being his constant attendant, whom he left concealed, with two of his horses, behind a small hillock beside the trail, desiring him there to await his return. In order to avoid suspicion, he continued in the company of White–bull until it was dusk, and did not leave the camp until an hour later, when he threw a large dark–coloured blanket over his shoulders, and, slipping away unperceived, rejoined the lad left in charge of the horses.

Mounting one himself, he desired his companion to follow on the other, and trotted briskly forward, under the partial light of a young moon, over the ground which he had carefully noted during the day, until he reached a spot where the trail approached within a hundred yards of the banks of the Platte, and where a few alder bushes offered convenient shelter for the horses. Here the lad was again desired to await his master’s return; and as the dew began to fall heavy, he was not sorry that the latter left with him the large dark–coloured blanket above mentioned.

Besha now pursued his way on foot; and on reaching the outposts of the allied band found, as had been preconcerted, two of the Delawares, bearing several large packages, containing the presents and goods that he had earned in his mixed capacity of diplomatic agent and interpreter. The packages being inconvenient for the horse–dealer to carry alone, both on account of their weight and number, he prevailed upon one of the Delawares to assist him in carrying them to the spot where he had left the horses. It was only by offering the Indian, who was no other than Stony–heart, a little bag full of excellent kinne–kinnik for his pipe, that he prevailed upon him to undertake this task. But the materials for smoking had become scarce, and it was an indulgence from which, when within reach, Stony–heart could not refrain; he accordingly sent back his companion, and telling him that he would return in the course of an hour or two, set forth with the horse–dealer on the trail.

We must now see how it fared with the lad left in charge of the horses, who, being tired with the day’s march, fastened the end of their long halters to his arm, and, wrapping himself in the blanket, lay down upon the grass, and soon fell into a comfortable doze. One of the horses, probably disliking this unusual separation from those with which it was accustomed at this hour to feed, neighed several times aloud, for which disturbance of his slumber it received a pull of the halter, and a muttered execration from the youth, when he again fell into a state of unconsciousness.

Now it so happened that the neighing of the horse reached other ears at no great distance, being those of no less a person than the Osage, who, with his three companions, was on his homeward way, and had on the preceding day stolen an old canoe that they found on the bank of the river; and, after patching up a few rents and holes, had embarked in it, to save themselves a portion of their long foot journey. They had seen from a distance the moving bands of the white men and of the Crows, and had hauled their canoe under some alder bushes on the bank, in order to consult and determine whether they should drop farther down the river during the night, or, leaving it, strike a more southerly course.

Whilst holding this consultation, the neighing of Besha’s horse caught the quick ear of their leader; he listened—and hearing it repeated, crept towards the spot, followed by his three companions. As soon as the uncertain light of the moon enabled him to distinguish the two pack–horses fastened to the sleeping lad, he again crept noiselessly forward, and, springing upon him, enveloped him in his own blanket, stuffing the corner of it into his mouth, so that he could neither struggle nor make any noise.

Leaving one of his men in charge of the horses, he carried the youth swiftly to the water’s edge where he securely pinioned and gagged him, not, however, before he had recognised by the moonlight the countenance of Besha’s attendant. The Osage’s plan was soon formed; for he rightly conjectured that the horse–dealer was gone upon some errand, from which he would not return empty handed; and he also owed the horse–dealer a grudge for having, as he supposed, favoured Wingenund in that eventful scene which terminated MahÉga’s life.

Stripping the youth of his dark blanket and of the broad–brimmed hat of Mexican grass that he wore, the Osage put them on himself; and, taking his seat by the same bush, he held the halters of the horses, and partially concealing his face in one of the folds of the blanket, awaited in this disguise the return of the horse–dealer, while his three companions concealed themselves behind the adjacent bushes.

They had not been very long ensconced before Besha appeared, followed by the doughty Stony–heart, who muttered to himself as he came that he would not carry such a load so far again for all the kinne–kinnik in the camp. The horse–dealer as he drew near gave the usual signal–whistle for his attendant; and, finding that it was unanswered, looked towards the spot where he descried the slumbering figure in the slouched hat and dark blanket; while one of his pack–horses, lately cast loose, seemed to be deliberately walking off to seek better pasture. Hastily throwing his own package to the ground, he went to secure the stray animal, calling at the same time to Stony–heart,

“Kick that sleepy dog till he wakens, that he may come and assist me with these packs.”

The Delaware, who was not a man of many words, proceeded forthwith to execute this order, and, without putting down his heavy load, bestowed a sound kick upon the reclining figure, which, to his infinite surprise, started instantly to its feet in the shape of a powerful man, who threw him, encumbered as he was, upon the ground, and successfully resisted all his violent efforts to extricate himself. While one of the Osages came to assist in securing the fallen Delaware, the other two seized the unlucky horse–dealer, just as he was mounting in the hope of saving himself by flight.

So successfully had the Osages planned and executed this manoeuvre, that in less than five minutes their two last prisoners were laid bound and pinioned together with the first in the canoe, where the captured bales and presents were also stowed away, and while one of the Osages took the horses to a ford not far distant, which had been recently crossed by a large herd of bison, the remaining three, with their prisoners, paddled across the river, and then noiselessly along the opposite bank, until they had reached a deep and winding creek, which fell into the main river, and which they had noticed by daylight as affording convenient fuel and shelter. Having pursued their way up the creek until they considered themselves safe from pursuit, and their fire from the observation of either encampment, they gathered and lighted a goodly pile of dry alder–wood, and proceeded deliberately to unpack and examine the bales and packages, throwing their three pinioned captives roughly on one side, as being so much live lumber unworthy of their notice.

The plunder that they found themselves thus suddenly possessed of exceeded their utmost expectations; and as it contained, amongst other things, a package of excellent dried meat and the kinne–kinnik, from which poor Stony–heart had expected so much gratification, they ate copiously of the former, and smoked copiously of the latter, until they were in the highest possible state of Osage enjoyment.

It was not long before they were joined by their comrade with the horses, who received, as soon as he had fastened the latter, his due share both of the provisions and the plunder; after which they ungagged the prisoners, at the same time giving them to understand that if they made the least noise they would be put to death immediately. Indeed, whether they were noisy or quiet, it seemed by no means improbable that such might be their fate, for two of the Osages strongly urged the necessity for so doing, under the plea of self–preservation. The leader seemed, however, to be of a different opinion, and he had already established a kind of prescriptive right of command over his comrades.

Having thrown some dry sticks upon the fire to make it blaze, he drew Stony–heart towards the light, and, as it fell upon his countenance, enabled him to recognise in his prisoner one of the chief warriors of the Delaware band.

“Is Stony–heart become a mule,” said he with a grin, “that he carries bales and blankets upon his back?”

To this taunt Stony–heart did not deign to reply, and a brief conversation ensued among the Osages; after which their leader came again to him, and, having searched his dress, satisfied himself that the Delaware had no other arms with him than a knife and a small pistol concealed in his belt. The former he left untouched, but the latter he dipped in the creek until it was thoroughly soaked, and then returned it to the owner, whom, having now released from his bands, he thus addressed:

“Stony–heart may return to his people; he is free; and he may tell Wingenund that the Washashee know how to repay a good deed as well as to revenge a bad one. Stony–heart may go!”

The Delaware waited no second bidding, but returned with all haste towards his camp, being obliged to swim the river, and muttering to himself, after he had crossed it, “I told Baptiste that no good could ever come of sparing the lives of those Washashee dogs!” Such being the only gratitude that he either felt or expressed for the clemency that he had just experienced at their hands!

Soon after his departure, the Osages turned their attention to Besha, sternly questioning him as to the part he had taken in their late chief’s dispute with Wingenund; and in spite of all his protestations of impartiality and innocence, they stripped him of every article of clothing save his mocassins, and gave him a most severe flogging with a laryette of bull’s–hide, after which they decamped, leaving him still pinioned, and writhing with pain, while they carried with them his attendant, whom they compelled to load and arrange the packs upon the horses, and to lead the latter for the first dozen miles of their route; after which they permitted him to return to release his master, who crawled back with difficulty, before daylight, to the Crow camp, having reaped the reward of his intrigues, cunning, and avarice, in the loss of all his presents, two of his best horses, and a flogging, from the effects of which he suffered for a long time.