The Prairie (54 page)

During the whole of the foregoing scene, it would have been difficult to
have traced a single distinct emotion in the lineaments of the captive.
He had heard his release proclaimed, with the same indifference as the
order to bind him to the stake. But now, that the moment had arrived
when it became necessary to make his election, he spoke in a way to
prove that the fortitude, which had bought him so distinguished a name,
had in no degree deserted him.

"My father is very old, but he has not yet looked upon every thing,"
said Hard-Heart, in a voice so clear as to be heard by all in presence.
"He has never seen a buffaloe change to a bat. He will never see a
Pawnee become a Sioux!"

There was a suddenness, and yet a calmness in the manner of delivering
this decision, which assured most of the auditors that it was
unalterable. The heart of Le Balafre, however, was yearning towards the
youth, and the fondness of age was not so readily repulsed. Reproving
the burst of admiration and triumph, to which the boldness of the
declaration, and the freshened hopes of revenge had given rise, by
turning his gleaming eye around the band, the veteran again addressed
his adopted child, as if his purpose was not to be denied.

"It is well," he said; "such are the words a brave should use, that
the warriors may see his heart. The day has been when the voice of Le
Balafre was loudest among the lodges of the Konzas. But the root of a
white hair is wisdom. My child will show the Tetons that he is brave, by
striking their enemies. Men of the Dahcotahs, this is my son!"

The Pawnee hesitated a moment, and then stepping in front of the chief,
he took his hard and wrinkled hand, and laid it with reverence on his
head, as if to acknowledge the extent of his obligation. Then recoiling
a step, he raised his person to its greatest elevation, and looked upon
the hostile band, by whom he was environed, with an air of loftiness and
disdain, as he spoke aloud, in the language of the Siouxes—

"Hard-Heart has looked at himself, within and without. He has thought
of all he has done in the hunts and in the wars. Every where he is the
same. There is no change. He is in all things a Pawnee. He has struck
so many Tetons that he could never eat in their lodges. His arrows would
fly backwards; the point of his lance would be on the wrong end; their
friends would weep at every whoop he gave; their enemies would laugh. Do
the Tetons know a Loup? Let them look at him again. His head is painted;
his arm is flesh; his heart is rock. When the Tetons see the sun come
from the Rocky Mountains, and move towards the land of the Pale-faces,
the mind of Hard-Heart will soften, and his spirit will become Sioux.
Until that day, he will live and die a Pawnee."

A yell of delight, in which admiration and ferocity were strangely
mingled, interrupted the speaker, and but too clearly announced the
character of his fate. The captive awaited a moment, for the commotion
to subside, and then turning again to Le Balafre, he continued, in tones
conciliating and kind, as if he felt the propriety of softening his
refusal, in a manner not to wound the pride of one who would so gladly
be his benefactor—

"Let my father lean heavier on the fawn of the Dahcotahs," he said: "she
is weak now, but as her lodge fills with young, she will be stronger.
See," he added, directing the eyes of the other to the earnest
countenance of the attentive trapper; "Hard-Heart is not without a
grey-head to show him the path to the blessed prairies. If he ever has
another father, it shall be that just warrior."

Le Balafre turned away in disappointment from the youth, and approached
the stranger, who had thus anticipated his design. The examination
between these two aged men was long, mutual, and curious. It was not
easy to detect the real character of the trapper, through the mask which
the hardships of so many years had laid upon his features, especially
when aided by his wild and peculiar attire. Some moments elapsed before
the Teton spoke, and then it was in doubt whether he addressed one like
himself, or some wanderer of that race who, he had heard, were spreading
themselves, like hungry locusts, throughout the land.

"The head of my brother is very white," he said; "but the eye of Le
Balafre is no longer like the eagle's. Of what colour is his skin?"

"The Wahcondah made me like these you see waiting for a Dahcotah
judgment; but fair and foul has coloured me darker than the skin of a
fox. What of that! Though the bark is ragged and riven, the heart of the
tree is sound."

"My brother is a Big-knife! Let him turn his face towards the setting
sun, and open his eyes. Does he see the salt lake beyond the mountains?"

"The time has been, Teton, when few could see the white on the eagle's
head farther than I; but the glare of fourscore and seven winters has
dimmed my eyes, and but little can I boast of sight in my latter days.
Does the Sioux think a Pale-face is a god, that he can look through
hills?"

"Then let my brother look at me. I am nigh him, and he can see that I
am a foolish Red-man. Why cannot his people see every thing, since they
crave all?"

"I understand you, chief; nor will I gainsay the justice of your words,
seeing that they are too much founded in truth. But though born of the
race you love so little, my worst enemy, not even a lying Mingo, would
dare to say that I ever laid hands on the goods of another, except such
as were taken in manful warfare; or that I ever coveted more ground than
the Lord has intended each man to fill."

"And yet my brother has come among the Red-skins to find a son?"

The trapper laid a finger on the naked shoulder of Le Balafre, and
looked into his scarred countenance with a wistful and confidential
expression, as he answered—

"Ay; but it was only that I might do good to the boy. If you think,
Dahcotah, that I adopted the youth in order to prop my age, you do
as much injustice to my goodwill, as you seem to know little of the
merciless intentions of your own people. I have made him my son, that
he may know that one is left behind him. Peace, Hector, peace! Is this
decent, pup, when greyheads are counselling together, to break in upon
their discourse with the whinings of a hound! The dog is old, Teton;
and though well taught in respect of behaviour, he is getting, like
ourselves, I fancy, something forgetful of the fashions of his youth."

Further discourse, between these veterans, was interrupted by a
discordant yell, which burst at that moment from the lips of the dozen
withered crones, who have already been mentioned as having forced
themselves into a conspicuous part of the circle. The outcry was excited
by a sudden change in the air of Hard-Heart. When the old men turned
towards the youth, they saw him standing in the very centre of the ring,
with his head erect, his eye fixed on vacancy, one leg advanced and an
arm a little raised, as if all his faculties were absorbed in the act
of listening. A smile lighted his countenance, for a single moment,
and then the whole man sunk again into his former look of dignity and
coldness, suddenly recalled to self-possession. The movement had been
construed into contempt, and even the tempers of the chiefs began to be
excited. Unable to restrain their fury, the women broke into the circle
in a body, and commenced their attack by loading the captive with the
most bitter revilings. They boasted of the various exploits, which their
sons had achieved at the expense of the different tribes of the Pawnees.
They undervalued his own reputation, and told him to look at Mahtoree,
if he had never yet seen a warrior. They accused him of having been
suckled by a doe, and of having drunk in cowardice with his mother's
milk. In short, they lavished upon their unmoved captive a torrent of
that vindictive abuse, in which the women of the savages are so well
known to excel, but which has been too often described to need a
repetition here.

The effect of this outbreaking was inevitable. Le Balafre turned away
disappointed, and hid himself in the crowd, while the trapper, whose
honest features were working with inward emotion, pressed nigher to his
young friend, as those who are linked to the criminal, by ties so strong
as to brave the opinions of men, are often seen to stand about the place
of execution to support his dying moments. The excitement soon spread
among the inferior warriors, though the chiefs still forbore to make
the signal, which committed the victim to their mercy. Mahtoree, who
had awaited such a movement among his fellows, with the wary design of
concealing his own jealous hatred, soon grew weary of delay, and, by a
glance of his eye, encouraged the tormentors to proceed.

Weucha, who, eager for this sanction, had long stood watching the
countenance of the chief, bounded forward at the signal like a
blood-hound loosened from the leash. Forcing his way into the centre
of the hags, who were already proceeding from abuse to violence, he
reproved their impatience, and bade them wait, until a warrior had begun
to torment, and then they should see their victim shed tears like a
woman.

The heartless savage commenced his efforts, by flourishing his tomahawk
about the head of the captive, in such a manner as to give reason to
suppose, that each blow would bury the weapon in the flesh, while it
was so governed as not to touch the skin. To this customary expedient
Hard-Heart was perfectly insensible. His eye kept the same steady,
riveted look on the air, though the glittering axe described, in its
evolutions, a bright circle of light before his countenance. Frustrated
in this attempt, the callous Sioux laid the cold edge on the naked head
of his victim, and began to describe the different manners, in which
a prisoner might be flayed. The women kept time to his cruelties with
their taunts, and endeavoured to force some expression of the lingerings
of nature from the insensible features of the Pawnee. But he evidently
reserved himself for the chiefs, and for those moments of extreme
anguish, when the loftiness of his spirit might evince itself in a
manner better becoming his high and untarnished reputation.

The eyes of the trapper, followed every movement of the tomahawk, with
the interest of a real father, until at length, unable to command his
indignation, he exclaimed—

"My son has forgotten his cunning. This is a low-minded Indian, and
one easily hurried into folly. I cannot do the thing myself, for my
traditions forbid a dying warrior to revile his persecutors, but the
gifts of a Red-skin are different. Let the Pawnee say the bitter words
and purchase an easy death. I will answer for his success, provided he
speaks before the grave men set their wisdom to back the folly of this
fool."

The savage Sioux, who heard his words without comprehending their
meaning, turned to the speaker and menaced him with death, for his
temerity.

"Ay, work your will," said the unflinching old man; "I am as ready now
as I shall be to-morrow. Though it would be a death that an honest man
might not wish to die. Look at that noble Pawnee, Teton, and see what a
Red-skin may become, who fears the Master of Life, and follows his
laws. How many of your people has he sent to the distant prairies?"
he continued in a sort of pious fraud, thinking, that while the danger
menaced himself, there could surely be no sin in extolling the merits of
another; "how many howling Siouxes has he struck, like a warrior in open
combat, while arrows were sailing in the air plentier than flakes of
falling snow! Go! will Weucha speak the name of one enemy he has ever
struck?"

"Hard-Heart!" shouted the Sioux, turning in his fury, and aiming a
deadly blow at the head of his victim. His arm fell into the hollow of
the captive's hand. For a single moment the two stood, as if entranced
in that attitude, the one paralysed by so unexpected a resistance, and
the other bending his head, not to meet his death, but in the act of
the most intense attention. The women screamed with triumph, for they
thought the nerves of the captive had at length failed him. The trapper
trembled for the honour of his friend; and Hector, as if conscious of
what was passing, raised his nose into the air, and uttered a piteous
howl.

But the Pawnee hesitated, only for that moment. Raising the other hand,
like lightning, the tomahawk flashed in the air, and Weucha sunk to his
feet, brained to the eye. Then cutting a way with the bloody weapon, he
darted through the opening, left by the frightened women, and seemed to
descend the declivity at a single bound.

Had a bolt from Heaven fallen in the midst of the Teton band it would
not have occasioned greater consternation, than this act of desperate
hardihood. A shrill plaintive cry burst from the lips of all the women,
and there was a moment, that even the oldest warriors appeared to have
lost their faculties. This stupor endured only for the instant. It was
succeeded by a yell of revenge, that burst from a hundred throats, while
as many warriors started forward at the cry, bent on the most bloody
retribution. But a powerful and authoritative call from Mahtoree
arrested every foot. The chief, in whose countenance disappointment
and rage were struggling with the affected composure of his station,
extended an arm towards the river, and the whole mystery was explained.

Hard-Heart had already crossed half the bottom, which lay between the
acclivity and the water. At this precise moment a band of armed and
mounted Pawnees turned a swell, and galloped to the margin of the
stream, into which the plunge of the fugitive was distinctly heard. A
few minutes sufficed for his vigorous arm to conquer the passage, and
then the shout from the opposite shore told the humbled Tetons the whole
extent of the triumph of their adversaries.

If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly; the curses he
shall have, the tortures he shall feel, will break the back of
man, the heart of monster.
—Shakespeare.