The Lost Hunter Part 6

"Where the streams run toward the setting sun, the thunderbolt struck.

Why was it not me instead of those dearer to me than life?"

"A bird hath sung to Ohquamehud that the land is pleasant, and the hunter only extends his hand to find something to savor his broth and to cover his feet."

"It is a land of streams, and mountains, and forests, and the deer and the bear still are plenty. When the Creator made it, he smiled and p.r.o.nounced it good; and there, as in your fabled hunting-grounds, might men be blessed but for their pa.s.sions."

"The red man loves his friend, and hates his enemy."

"To hate is a devilish feeling. It comes not from the Good Spirit."

Ohquamehud rose and stood before Holden. It seemed to his bold and ferocious temper, that he could not, without cowardice, hear a.s.sailed and not vindicate, a principle that had been inculcated upon him from youth, and formed a sacred portion of his creed. As he stood up, the blanket fell in graceful folds from his shoulders, around his person, and he stretched out a hand to solicit attention.

"Listen," he said; "the tongue of Ohquamehud is one: it will speak the truth. Because the Great Spirit loved his children, he made them to love and to hate, and both are pleasant. The south wind is sweet when it comes in spring to tell that winter is past and the starved Indian need no longer s.h.i.+ver over the fire; and sweet are the kisses of Wullogana to Ohquamehud, and dear are the voices of his little ones when they meet him from the chase, but sweeter than the sighs of the wind of spring, or the caresses of Wullogana, or the laughter of his children, is it to strike an enemy. His flesh is good, for it strengthens a red heart. The wolf will never become a lamb, and the wolf is the totem of my clan. Ohquamehud has said."

It would be impossible to describe the conflicting emotions of Holden during this savage speech. Whatever might have been the wild incidents of his youth, or whatever his wrongs and sufferings, the time was long past, and he had supposed all stormy pa.s.sion subdued, and his heart chastised to resignation and submission. He listened at first with unmixed horror to the Indian's declaration, but as the savage went on, the words became more and more indistinct, till they lost all meaning or were converted into other sounds, and, as in a dream, made the aliment of his thoughts. The whole conversation, and the very language in which they spoke, contributed to produce this state of mind. Lost to all around, his soul was far away. He saw a cabin beside a mountain torrent, overshadowed by immense trees. It was summer, and the birds were singing among the branches. The door of the cabin opened, and a young and beautiful white woman stepped out, holding a child by the hand. Suddenly it was night, and the cabin on fire, and he heard the yells of savages, and saw them like so many demons dancing round the flames; then hush, all again was still, and darkness brooded over the spot, lighted only by a flickering brand.

The bosom of Holden heaved convulsively, and his brain reeled.

The Indian watched his changing countenance with an eager look as if he revelled in his agony. Not a hard drawn breath, not a single expression escaped his notice. He saw the eyes of the Solitary flash, then settle into a dreamy gaze as if looking into a dim, unfathomable distance, then shut, as if he tried to exclude some horrid sight.

Suddenly, with a shudder, Holden sprang to his feet.

"Accursed Shawnees," he cried; "they have done this deed. But for every drop of blood they shed a river shall flow. Dog!" and he seized the Indian with a strength to which madness lent additional force, and dashed him to the ground, "thou art first delivered into my hand."

He staggered toward the fallen man--stopped--glared at him a moment and with a wild cry rushed into the hut.

The Indian, who had immediately risen from the fall, and stood with folded arms regarding his motions, slowly gathered up his disordered blanket about him and stalked towards the canoe. A gleam of ferocity shot over his face as he resumed the paddle, and softly breathing the single word "Onontio," pushed from the sh.o.r.e.

CHAPTER VI.

I will pursue to death this spiteful knight: Not earth's low centre, nor sea's deepest part, Nor heaven, nor h.e.l.l, can s.h.i.+eld him from my might: I will o'ertake him, take him, cleave his heart.

FAIRFAX' Ta.s.sO.

The suspicions of the Indian were confirmed beyond a doubt. It was, perhaps, the voice and accent of the Solitary in his native tongue that at first attracted his attention and induced him to try the experiment which resulted as we have seen. He must have had or fancied that he had a cause of deadly hatred of long standing against Holden.

It is impossible otherwise to explain his conduct. But no length of time can erase the recollection of an injury from the mind of a North American Indian. He cherishes it as something never to be parted with, and would feel degraded in his own estimation were he to forgive.

Revenge is the central sun round which his spirit revolves; and to gratify the feeling no hards.h.i.+ps are too severe. For such a purpose he will traverse, with an unerring instinct, pathless forests for hundreds of miles, swim wide rivers, climb lofty mountains, sleep, unrepining, on the bare ground, exposed to all vicissitudes of heat and cold, supporting himself by the chase and fis.h.i.+ng, and sustained throughout by his vindictive pa.s.sion and the glory he connects with its gratification. The kindness shown by Holden to his sister and her son, and the reverence with which she regarded him, it might be expected would have influenced Ohquamehud; but they had no such effect. To the kindness he ascribed a sinister motive; and of course, Peena's grat.i.tude was misplaced. It was therefore with a fiendish joy unalloyed by misgivings, that he brooded over the means to accomplish his purpose.

He dared not communicate it to Peena. He understood her gentle nature too well to suppose that, under any circ.u.mstances, she could sympathize with him, even though she felt no sense of obligation to Holden; and, besides, he distrusted her as one who had abandoned the faith of her fathers. For, although no Christian in the proper import of the word, the sweet and purifying influences of Christianity had not been wholly thrown away upon Peena. She had many friends in the neighboring village who had been attracted by her gentle temper and modesty, conspicuous among whom was Faith Armstrong. Hence, when she came to the village, as not unfrequently was the case, in order to sell the berries she had gathered in the fields, or pretty baskets stained with such lively colors as the simple skill of the Indians knew how to extract from roots and the bark of trees, it seldom happened that she returned without having made Faith a visit. On such occasions the enthusiastic girl would strive to inform her on points of religion which, to her own mind, were of the highest importance.

Peena would listen, and never contradict, though, it is probable, she understood but little of what to Faith's apprehension was clear.

It was impossible, however, not to derive benefit from such meetings.

None could be in the presence of Faith without being influenced by the atmosphere of goodness in which she moved. And, indeed, that she herself derived pleasure from the presence of Peena, was evidence of the gentle worth of the latter.

No wonder then that Ohquamehud determined to conceal his fell purpose in his own heart. When, therefore, with the quiet step peculiar to his race, he glided into her hut, just before the setting of the sun, he had chased the traces of pa.s.sion from his brow, and met her with a calm and satisfied mien. So perfect was the dissimulation that even one less guileless than the woman would have been deceived. In the present case, the preoccupation of her mind in Holden's favor made it easier.

"My brother," she said, with a pleased expression, as she caught sight of his altered appearance, "is like the sky in summer when not a cloud is to be seen."

"The cloud has left the sky of Ohquamehud."

This was said with a natural and easy air, as if all suspicion were banished from his mind; nor was the subject further adverted to.

The time at which the children of nature retire to rest, is not that observed by the artificially-cultivated man. For them, the hours of light and darkness mark out the periods for action and repose. It was then still early in the evening, when a heavy breathing in the hut of Peena indicated the sleep of its inmates. Ohquamehud had listened for it, and having waited until the breathing became deep and full to a.s.sure him of the profoundness of the slumber, he sat up on his couch and looked cautiously around. The brands were smouldering in the ashes with a dim flickering light, but sufficient to direct and give certainty to his movements. With a step so noiseless that the acutest ear would not have detected it, he crossed the floor, took his rifle from the corner where it had been placed, with equal caution opened the door, and stood in the open air.

It was a clear star-lit night, and on the placid bosom of the water shone one star larger and brighter than the rest, as if to light him on his way. But it was all un.o.bserved by the Indian. He had no eyes, no ears, no senses, except for the crime he was about to commit. To him, no crime, but a heroic act. Slowly, and measuring each step as though a thousand ears were listening, he proceeded in the direction of the canoe, untied it, and softly pushed it into the stream. As he took his seat the dip of his paddle made no sound, and thus, stern as an iron statue, and almost as still, he paddled on.

And now Ohquamehud approached the island. He stopped his paddle and held his breath, and listened. Not a living sound was to be heard, not even the cry of a night bird; nothing save the soft flowing of the water against the sh.o.r.e. Like an eagle circling round and round before he pounces on his quarry, the Indian cautiously paddled around the island. From one of the windows, before concealed, he saw a light.

Keeping at a distance, so that the rays should not fall upon him, he stole around until he had interposed the hut between himself and its beams. Then, apparently satisfied there was nothing to be feared, he directed the canoe towards the island, and slowly advanced until its bottom touched the sand, when he sat still and listened again. Hearing nothing, he left the canoe, and crouching down, crept towards the cabin. Having reached it, he applied his ear to the side and listened, and again advanced. Thus slowly proceeding, some little time elapsed before he found himself at the window whence streamed the light.

Without venturing to touch the wooden boards, as if fearful they might communicate a knowledge of his presence, he raised himself almost imperceptibly at the edge of the window, until he obtained a view of the interior. Holden was sitting at a distance of not more than six feet, near a small table, on which a single candle was burning, and in his lap lay a large opened book, on which his folded hands were resting. He seemed lost in meditation, gazing into the wood-fire before him, towards which his crossed legs were extended at full length.

The Indian slid his hand down to the lock of the gun, and drew back the trigger. Cautiously as it was done, he could not prevent a slight clicking sound, which, perhaps, struck the ear of the Solitary, for he turned his head and moved in the chair. The Indian slunk to the edge of the window, so as to conceal his person from any one within the room, and remained motionless. Presently he advanced his head, and took another view. The Solitary had resumed his former position, and was buried in profound thought. The Indian stepped back a couple of steps, so as to allow the necessary distance between himself and the window, and raised the rifle to his shoulder.

At that instant and just as he was about to discharge the deadly weapon, a large rattlesnake, attracted by the warmth, or for some other reason, glided from the opposite side of the hut towards the outstretched limbs of Holden, over which it crawled, and resting its body upon them, with upraised head seemed to fasten its eyes, glittering in the fire-light, full upon the face of the startled Indian. The effect was instantaneous. The rifle nearly dropped from his uplifted hands, a cold sweat burst from every pore, his knees shook, and his eyes, fixed on the snake by a fascination that controlled his will, felt bursting from their sockets. After preserving its att.i.tude for a short time, the snake, as if taking Holden under its protection, coiled itself around his feet, and lay with its head resting on his shoe, looking into the fire. As the snake turned away its bright eyes the spell that bound the Indian was dissolved. An expression of the deepest awe overspread his countenance, his lips moved, but emitted no sound, and cautiously as he had advanced be returned to the canoe, and was soon swallowed up in the darkness.

The abstraction of Holden must have been deep and long, for upon recovering from his reverie, the reptile was gone. Without his consciousness it had come, and without his consciousness departed; and when he laid the Bible, in which he had been reading, upon the table, he knew not either the danger he had escaped, or the means by which it had been averted.

Nor let the conduct of Ohquamehud excite surprise. An American Indian, he was susceptible to the influence of the legends and traditions of his race. Among them are some inculcating a superst.i.tious reverence for certain animals. The bear, for instance, is regarded by some tribes as a sort of relation, and when the necessity of hunger compels them to kill him, they apologize, and beg him not to be angry. The rattlesnake again is an object of great respect. Supplied with a deadly venom that makes him the most formidable of enemies, he never attacks unless first injured, and then, if he can reach his foe, his vengeance is sure. On his trail he disdains concealment, but with the rattles nature has provided to announce his approach, apprises all, that they may remove themselves out of his way. Indeed, he comprehends within himself those qualities most valued by the Indians, and is the type of a brave warrior. When, therefore, at such an hour and such a place, the reptile made its appearance, and first darting its fiery glances at the Pequot, quietly and, as if scorning and defying the danger, laid itself caressingly on the limbs of Holden, it seemed to the astonished Indian that the snake knew his purpose, and angrily ordered him to desist. Vain, he thought, would it be to a.s.sail one so protected, nor was he willing to incur the mysterious enmity of the snake. How its power might be displayed, whether in striking him dead on the spot, or in laming his limbs, or defeating his success in hunting, or what other dreadful manner, he knew not, but he was convinced that some awful punishment would follow disobedience. He thought it, therefore, more prudent to yield for the present, and wait till he had propitiated the snake, or it had withdrawn its protection.

As long as that lasted Onontio was beyond his power. Not that vengeance was forborne; it was only postponed.

Of such a character were the thoughts that darted through the mind of the Pequot when frightened from his purpose, and in less time than it has taken to record them, as with drooping head he pursued his lonely way. Even what he considered the interposition of a supernatural power, had not shaken the determination of his spirit. The desire for revenge had been too long cherished to be given up at a single warning, however awful, or however strongly appealing to the deepest implanted superst.i.tions.

CHAPTER VII.

"Arma, virumque cano qui Primus."

VIRGIL

The season had now advanced to within a few days of that joyous period of the year, when the Governors of the several New England States are wont to call the people to a public acknowledgment of the favors of Divine Providence. At the time of which we write, their Excellencies required the citizens to be thankful "according to law," and "all servile labor and vain recreation," on said day, were "by law forbidden," and not, as at present, invited them to a.s.semble in their respective churches, to unite in an expression of grat.i.tude to their Heavenly Benefactor. Whether the change from a command to an invitation, or permission to engage in the sports which were before forbidden, has been attended with any evil consequences, we leave to the individual judgment of our readers to determine. But whether commanded or invited, the people always welcomed the season of festivity with preaching and praying, and an indiscriminate slaughter of all the fat turkeys and chickens on which they could lay their hands.

The yellow and crimson maple leaf had faded on the trees into more sombre colors, or, falling to the ground, been whirled by the wind among heaps of other leaves, where its splendor no more attracted attention. Of the gaiety of autumn, only the red bunches of the sumach were left as a parting present to welcome winter in. The querulous note of the quail had long been heard calling to his truant mate, and reproaching her for wandering from his jealous side; the robins had either sought a milder climate or were collected in the savin-bushes, in whose evergreen branches they found shelter, and on whose berries they love to feed; and little schoolboys were prowling about, busy collecting barrels for Thanksgiving bonfires.

It was a beautiful clear morning in Thanksgiving-week, when a side gate, that admitted to the yard or inclosure in front of Mr.

Armstrong's house, opened, and a negro, with a round good-natured face, and rather foppishly dressed, stepped out upon the walk. But, before paying our respects to Mr. Felix Qui, it may not be altogether amiss to give some description of the house of Mr. Armstrong, as representing the better cla.s.s of dwelling-houses in our villages, at the time.

It was a large, two-story wood building, painted white, with green blinds, and consisted of a main body nearly fifty feet square, in which, were the apartments for the family, and of an L, as it was called, from the shape it gave the building, running back, and devoted to the kitchen and sleeping chambers of the servants. The height of the stories in this L was somewhat less than in the front part of the house, indicating thereby, perhaps, the more humble relation in which it stood to the latter. Three large chimneys rose above the roof, two from the princ.i.p.al building and one from the kitchen. A wide hall in the centre, swept through the whole length without interference from the rear building, which might be considered as a continuation of somewhat less than one-half of the part in front. The wood-house stood on the same side as the kitchen, some twenty feet distant; and still further back, a large barn, also of wood, and painted a light lead color, with the exception of the cornice and tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs about the doors and windows, which were white. The house itself stood some fifty feet back from the high road, and was surrounded by enormous elms, those glories of the cultivated American landscape, some measuring four and five feet in diameter, and throwing their gracefully drooping branches far and high over the roof, to which, in the heat of summer, they furnished an acceptable shade. The prospect in front, and looking between two rows of maples that lined the road, comprehended the Yaupaae, expanded into a lake, green fields and apple orchards running down to the water's edge, and hills, clothed to the top with verdure, rolling away like gigantic waves into the distance. Behind the house was a garden and orchard of, perhaps, two acres, terminating in a small evergreen wood of hemlocks and savins, interspersed with a few n.o.ble oaks. Mr. Armstrong had laid out several winding paths through this little wood, and placed here and there a rustic seat; and the taste of his daughter had embellished it with a few flowers. Here Faith had taught the moss pink to throw its millions of starry blossoms in early spring over the moist ground, after the modest trailing arbutus, from its retreat beneath the hemlocks, had exhausted its sweet breath; here, later in the season, the wild columbine wondered at the neighborhood of the damask rose; here, in the warm days of summer, or in the delicious moonlight evenings, she loved to wander, either alone or with her father, in its cool paths.

Still more beautiful than the prospect from the front door, were the views from this charming spot. Rising to a considerable elevation above the river to which it descended with a rapid slope, it commanded not only the former view to the south, though more extended, but also one to the northwest. Beneath, at a depression of eighty feet, lay the lake-like river with its green islets dotting the surface, while, at a short distance, the Fall of the Yaupaae precipitated itself over a rocky declivity, mingling, in the genial season of the year, a n.o.ble ba.s.s with the songs of birds and the sighing of the wind, and adding to and deepening in the rougher months, the roar of the tempest. A small stream diverted from the river, turned the wheel of a moss-grown grist-mill, which was nestled under large willows at the foot of the rocks, and conveyed the idea of the presence of man, without detracting from the wild beauty of the scenery.

Now, alas, how is all changed! _Heu! quantum mutatus ab illo Hectore_!

The grist-mill has disappeared! A row of willows which skirted the road that winding by the margin of the cove, led to it, has been cut down; and huge brick and stone factories of paper and cotton goods, gloomy and stern-like evil genii, brood over the scene, and all through the day and into the night, with grinding cylinders, and buzzing spindles and rattling looms, strive to drown, with harsh discords, the music of the waterfall. One of the little islands has been joined to the main land with gravel carted into the river, and a bleach-house or some other abomination erected upon it. The place is disenchanted. The sad Genius of Romance who once loved to stretch his limbs upon the mossy rocks, and catch inspiration from watching the foam and listening to the roar, has departed with a shriek, never to return.

Felix, when he found himself outside of the gate, gazed up and down the street, as if uncertain in which direction to proceed. After a momentary hesitation, and drawing a pair of gloves over his hands, he seemed to have made up his mind, and at a lounging pace, directed his course up, that is towards the north. He had not gone far when he saw coming towards him a person of his own color, who until then had been hid by a turn in the road. No one else was in sight, the spot being the piece of table-land mentioned in a previous chapter, about a half mile from the thickly settled part of the town, which was at the bottom of the hill near the confluence of the rivers. Here were no shops or public buildings, but only private residences from thirty to fifty rods apart, and inhabited by a few families a little wealthier, perhaps, for the most part, than the others.

It was a man, still hale and hearty, though what his age was it might be difficult to say. He might have been sixty or even seventy. The African race does not betray the secret of age as readily as the white. Probably the man did not know himself, nor is it of importance.