The Prairie (65 page)

The local importance Middleton had acquired, by his union with the
daughter of so affluent a proprietor as Don Augustin, united to his
personal merit, attracted the attention of the government. He was soon
employed in various situations of responsibility and confidence, which
both served to elevate his character in the public estimation, and to
afford the means of patronage. The bee-hunter was among the first of
those to whom he saw fit to extend his favour. It was far from difficult
to find situations suited to the abilities of Paul, in the state of
society that existed three-and-twenty years ago in those regions. The
efforts of Middleton and Inez, in behalf of her husband, were warmly and
sagaciously seconded by Ellen, and they succeeded, in process of time,
in working a great and beneficial change in his character. He soon
became a land-holder, then a prosperous cultivator of the soil, and
shortly after a town-officer. By that progressive change in fortune,
which in the republic is often seen to be so singularly accompanied by
a corresponding improvement in knowledge and self-respect, he went on,
from step to step, until his wife enjoyed the maternal delight of seeing
her children placed far beyond the danger of returning to that state
from which both their parents had issued. Paul is actually at this
moment a member of the lower branch of the legislature of the State
where he has long resided; and he is even notorious for making speeches
that have a tendency to put that deliberative body in good humour, and
which, as they are based on great practical knowledge suited to the
condition of the country, possess a merit that is much wanted in many
more subtle and fine-spun theories, that are daily heard in similar
assemblies, to issue from the lips of certain instinctive politicians.
But all these happy fruits were the results of much care, and of a long
period of time. Middleton, who fills, with a credit better suited to
the difference in their educations, a seat in a far higher branch of
legislative authority, is the source from which we have derived most of
the intelligence necessary to compose our legend. In addition to what he
has related of Paul, and of his own continued happiness, he has added
a short narrative of what took place in a subsequent visit to the
prairies, with which, as we conceive it a suitable termination to what
has gone before, we shall judge it wise to conclude our labours.

In the autumn of the year, that succeeded the season, in which the
preceding events occurred, the young man, still in the military service,
found himself on the waters of the Missouri, at a point not far remote
from the Pawnee towns. Released from any immediate calls of duty,
and strongly urged to the measure by Paul, who was in his company, he
determined to take horse, and cross the country to visit the partisan,
and to enquire into the fate of his friend the trapper. As his train
was suited to his functions and rank, the journey was effected, with the
privations and hardships that are the accompaniments of all travelling
in a wild, but without any of those dangers and alarms that marked his
former passage through the same regions. When within a proper distance,
he despatched an Indian runner, belonging to a friendly tribe, to
announce the approach of himself and party, continuing his route at a
deliberate pace, in order that the intelligence might, as was customary,
precede his arrival. To the surprise of the travellers their message was
unanswered. Hour succeeded hour, and mile after mile was passed, without
bringing either the signs of an honourable reception, or the more simple
assurances of a friendly welcome. At length the cavalcade, at whose head
rode Middleton and Paul, descended from the elevated plain, on which
they had long been journeying, to a luxuriant bottom, that brought them
to the level of the village of the Loups. The sun was beginning to fall,
and a sheet of golden light was spread over the placid plain, lending
to its even surface those glorious tints and hues, that, the human
imagination is apt to conceive, forms the embellishment of still more
imposing scenes. The verdure of the year yet remained, and herds of
horses and mules were grazing peacefully in the vast natural pasture,
under the keeping of vigilant Pawnee boys. Paul pointed out among
them, the well-known form of Asinus, sleek, fat, and luxuriating in the
fulness of content, as he stood with reclining ears and closed eye-lids,
seemingly musing on the exquisite nature of his present indolent
enjoyment.

The route of the party led them at no great distance from one of those
watchful youths, who was charged with a trust heavy as the principal
wealth of his tribe. He heard the trampling of the horses, and cast
his eye aside, but instead of manifesting curiosity or alarm, his look
instantly returned whence it had been withdrawn, to the spot where the
village was known to stand.

"There is something remarkable in all this," muttered Middleton, half
offended at what he conceived to be not only a slight to his rank, but
offensive to himself, personally; "yonder boy has heard of our approach,
or he would not fail to notify his tribe; and yet he scarcely deigns to
favour us with a glance. Look to your arms, men; it may be necessary to
let these savages feel our strength."

"Therein, Captain, I think you're in an error," returned Paul, "if
honesty is to be met on the prairies at all, you will find it in our old
friend Hard-Heart; neither is an Indian to be judged of by the rules of
a white. See! we are not altogether slighted, for here comes a party at
last to meet us, though it is a little pitiful as to show and numbers."

Paul was right in both particulars. A group of horsemen were at length
seen wheeling round a little copse, and advancing across the plain
directly towards them. The advance of this party was slow and dignified.
As it drew nigh, the partisan of the Loups was seen at its head,
followed by a dozen younger warriors of his tribe. They were all
unarmed, nor did they even wear any of those ornaments or feathers,
which are considered testimonials of respect to the guest an Indian
receives, as well as evidence of his own importance.

The meeting was friendly, though a little restrained on both sides.
Middleton, jealous of his own consideration no less than of the
authority of his government, suspected some undue influence on the part
of the agents of the Canadas; and, as he was determined to maintain
the authority of which he was the representative, he felt himself
constrained to manifest a hauteur, that he was far from feeling. It was
not so easy to penetrate the motives of the Pawnees. Calm, dignified,
and yet far from repulsive, they set an example of courtesy, blended
with reserve, that many a diplomatist of the most polished court might
have strove in vain to imitate.

In this manner the two parties continued their course to the town.
Middleton had time, during the remainder of the ride, to revolve in his
mind, all the probable reasons which his ingenuity could suggest
for this strange reception. Although he was accompanied by a regular
interpreter, the chiefs made their salutations in a manner that
dispensed with his services. Twenty times the Captain turned his glance
on his former friend, endeavouring to read the expression of his rigid
features. But every effort and all conjectures proved equally futile.
The eye of Hard-Heart was fixed, composed, and a little anxious; but
as to every other emotion, impenetrable. He neither spoke himself, nor
seemed willing to invite discourse in his visiters; it was therefore
necessary for Middleton to adopt the patient manners of his companions,
and to await the issue for the explanation.

When they entered the town, its inhabitants were seen collected in an
open space, where they were arranged with the customary deference to age
and rank. The whole formed a large circle, in the centre of which, were
perhaps a dozen of the principal chiefs. Hard-Heart waved his hand as he
approached, and, as the mass of bodies opened, he rode through, followed
by his companions. Here they dismounted; and as the beasts were led
apart, the strangers found themselves environed by a thousand, grave,
composed, but solicitous faces.

Middleton gazed about him, in growing concern, for no cry, no song, no
shout welcomed him among a people, from whom he had so lately parted
with regret. His uneasiness, not to say apprehensions, was shared by all
his followers. Determination and stern resolution began to assume the
place of anxiety in every eye, as each man silently felt for his arms,
and assured himself, that his several weapons were in a state for
service. But there was no answering symptom of hostility on the part
of their hosts. Hard-Heart beckoned for Middleton and Paul to follow,
leading the way towards the cluster of forms, that occupied the centre
of the circle. Here the visiters found a solution of all the movements,
which had given them so much reason for apprehension.

The trapper was placed on a rude seat, which had been made, with studied
care, to support his frame in an upright and easy attitude. The first
glance of the eye told his former friends, that the old man was at
length called upon to pay the last tribute of nature. His eye was
glazed, and apparently as devoid of sight as of expression. His features
were a little more sunken and strongly marked than formerly; but there,
all change, so far as exterior was concerned, might be said to have
ceased. His approaching end was not to be ascribed to any positive
disease, but had been a gradual and mild decay of the physical powers.
Life, it is true, still lingered in his system; but it was as if at
times entirely ready to depart, and then it would appear to re-animate
the sinking form, reluctant to give up the possession of a tenement,
that had never been corrupted by vice, or undermined by disease. It
would have been no violent fancy to have imagined, that the spirit
fluttered about the placid lips of the old woodsman, reluctant to depart
from a shell, that had so long given it an honest and an honourable
shelter.

His body was placed so as to let the light of the setting sun fall full
upon the solemn features. His head was bare, the long, thin, locks of
grey fluttering lightly in the evening breeze. His rifle lay upon his
knee, and the other accoutrements of the chase were placed at his side,
within reach of his hand. Between his feet lay the figure of a hound,
with its head crouching to the earth as if it slumbered; and so
perfectly easy and natural was its position, that a second glance was
necessary to tell Middleton, he saw only the skin of Hector, stuffed
by Indian tenderness and ingenuity in a manner to represent the living
animal. His own dog was playing at a distance, with the child of
Tachechana and Mahtoree. The mother herself stood at hand, holding in
her arms a second offspring, that might boast of a parentage no less
honourable, than that which belonged to the son of Hard-Heart. Le
Balafre was seated nigh the dying trapper, with every mark about his
person, that the hour of his own departure was not far distant. The rest
of those immediately in the centre were aged men, who had apparently
drawn near, in order to observe the manner, in which a just and fearless
warrior would depart on the greatest of his journeys.

The old man was reaping the rewards of a life remarkable for temperance
and activity, in a tranquil and placid death. His vigour in a manner
endured to the very last. Decay, when it did occur, was rapid, but
free from pain. He had hunted with the tribe in the spring, and even
throughout most of the summer, when his limbs suddenly refused to
perform their customary offices. A sympathising weakness took possession
of all his faculties; and the Pawnees believed, that they were going to
lose, in this unexpected manner, a sage and counsellor, whom they
had begun both to love and respect. But as we have already said, the
immortal occupant seemed unwilling to desert its tenement. The lamp of
life flickered without becoming extinguished. On the morning of the day,
on which Middleton arrived, there was a general reviving of the powers
of the whole man. His tongue was again heard in wholesome maxims, and
his eye from time to time recognised the persons of his friends. It
merely proved to be a brief and final intercourse with the world on the
part of one, who had already been considered, as to mental communion, to
have taken his leave of it for ever.

When he had placed his guests in front of the dying man, Hard-Heart,
after a pause, that proceeded as much from sorrow as decorum, leaned a
little forward and demanded—

"Does my father hear the words of his son?"

"Speak," returned the trapper, in tones that issued from his chest, but
which were rendered awfully distinct by the stillness that reigned in
the place. "I am about to depart from the village of the Loups, and
shortly shall be beyond the reach of your voice."

"Let the wise chief have no cares for his journey," continued Hard-Heart
with an earnest solicitude, that led him to forget, for the moment,
that others were waiting to address his adopted parent; "a hundred Loups
shall clear his path from briars."

"Pawnee, I die as I have lived, a Christian man," resumed the trapper
with a force of voice that had the same startling effect upon his
hearers, as is produced by the trumpet, when its blast rises suddenly
and freely on the air, after its obstructed sounds have been heard
struggling in the distance: "as I came into life so will I leave it.
Horses and arms are not needed to stand in the presence of the Great
Spirit of my people. He knows my colour, and according to my gifts will
he judge my deeds."

"My father will tell my young men, how many Mingoes he has struck, and
what acts of valour and justice he has done, that they may know how to
imitate him."

"A boastful tongue is not heard in the heaven of a white man," solemnly
returned the old man. "What I have done, He has seen. His eyes are
always open. That, which has been well done, will He remember; wherein
I have been wrong will He not forget to chastise, though He will do the
same in mercy. No, my son; a Pale-face may not sing his own praises, and
hope to have them acceptable before his God."