American Family Robinson

  Chapter Fourteenth.

  The return of spring. Their thoughts of home. Preparations to continuetheir journey. The chief insists upon their course being wrong. Escapeof the Wild Man. They discover a borough of Prairie Dogs. Traces ofBuffalo observable. They suffer from want of water. A party of Indians.A beautiful landscape. A terrific storm. The chief rendered insensibleby a stroke of lightning. He recovers and returns to the camp.

  The warm south wind now began to stir the air, while the lengtheneddays, swelling buds, and melting snows, assured them the patientlywaited for and much desired spring had come.

  "Home--father, mother, brothers, sister; for, where they are, there ishome. Shall we indeed see you and once more be folded in your arms?Shall these wanderings ever cease, of which our souls are weary, andour hearts are sick? Oh! home; thou hope of the weary, and haven ofrest, though thy place be the tomb, when shall we see thee!" they sadlyand feelingly exclaimed.

  Howe and the chief made daily excursions down the valley, in search ofwild horses, being anxious to secure each member of their party one forriding and two for pack horses. "For," said Howe, "we will start withgood horses, and as the summer is before us, it will go hard with us,if we do not find home before cold weather comes again."

  "Before the snows again fall," said the chief, "we will not only havefound the son of the great Medicine, but will be back here, never moreto leave again."

  They were successful in their hunts, and a finer set of horses neverwore a halter than those wild ones they had secured, and which twice aday they rode round the forest, in order to tame, and accustom them tocarry burthens. They had quite a store of nuts still on hand, packed inbags made of skins, which they lashed on one of the horses' backs; andtheir jerked and dried meats, together with a quantity of salt thatthey collected at the salt spring, were packed on another; as was also,half a dozen gourd shells, and one of the kettles they had found, whichhad, from the many uses to which they applied it, become a necessity.Three or four skins according to their thickness, that had been curedwith the hair on, were tightly sewed together for a saddle with smallstrings, and the whole firmly bound on the horses' back by a broadband. By means of the leather they had been enabled to make a very goodbridle for Jane and Edward, but Howe and the chief preferred ridingwith a single band or string for a halter, and this they rarely held intheir hands, but went dashing through the forest, their hands free, andtheir bodies bent almost to their horses' necks.

  With something like the feeling of parting with a friend, they badeadieu to the friendly shelter that had protected them from the wet andcold so many months; the beautiful valley with its park-like trees,many now in bloom; and the smooth verdant sward, its ruins, the solelinks of the present with the past, and the only token left that othershad lived, known joy and sorrow, and died on a land, supposed to havenever, before the present race become its masters, known a civilizedpeople.

  They rode gaily forth--Howe with his niece and nephew, the Indianchieftain, the timid Mahnewe with her child, and the wild man, whomthey had christened Oudin, from a habit he had of repeating a soundvery much like the pronunciation of that word. He had become quitedocile, understood many sentences, and could be made to understand bywords and signs all that was required of him. He also attempted to usewords in conveying his wants to others, and they noticed with pleasure,his fits of passion were less frequent, and when they had passed awayhe seemed ashamed of them.

  Taking their course down the valley, which grew broader and graduallyassumed the appearance of a primitive forest, and pursued their wayalong the stream that kept its course at the base of the mountain ontheir right until night, when they encamped on its bank. At early dawnthey again commenced their journey, and leaving the stream, took theircourse farther to the left, as the chief persisted in his belief thattheir whole course had been wrong, and that in order to find theirfriends, they must take another direction. Howe readily assented tothis; for, in fact, he was so completely bewildered that he was at aloss what course should be pursued. The forest now began to lose muchof its grandeur, the soil grew sandy, and every species of verdure hada stunted and gnarled appearance. At night they encamped on the vergeof a broad prairie that stretched far away towards the horizon. Theyhad much difficulty in procuring a supply of water for their horsesthat night, the surface around where they were having a parched, aridappearance; so different from the fresh verdure of the forest throughwhich they had been travelling, as to cause a feeling of momentarysadness to come over them. This was, however, dispelled by the chiefwho was highly elated at having struck the prairie.

  "Over yonder," said he, stretching his hand towards the wide expansebefore them, "our friends await us. Let not our hearts fail us, forbefore two more suns shall set, we will be among them!"

  "So soon! Oh, what joy!" said Jane, transported with the thought.

  "They may have left the encampment, and pursued their journey, if theyhad the good fortune to get out of the hands of the Crows; and, then,it may be many days before we overtake them."

  "No," said the trapper. "If your father is living, he never leaves theground on which he was encamped, until he ascertains the fate of hischildren. Probably he has built a cabin, and is cultivating a patch ofground around it. He will never leave it if we do not return. If it isnot so, I have a wrong conception of the man."

  With the chief for a guard, they lay down to sleep. On awakening thenext morning, they found, to their amazement, that Oudin had escaped tothe forest. This was a great disappointment to them, after they hadtaken so much care to keep him safe and tame him, as he gave promise ofmuch intelligence when he should become civilized. There was no helpfor it, as he had evidently watched his opportunity to escape and,perhaps, was now miles away.

  "The ungrateful wretch," said Edward, "to thus run away after we haddone our best to civilize him."

  "Good!" said the chief; "glad he is gone. He would kill us some day hadhe remained."

  "I think not," said Howe. "But it is a mystery to me how he escapedyour vigilant eye and ear. Whirlwind, I think you must have sleptduring your watch."

  "No," returned the chief, proudly, "Whirlwind never sleeps when onguard. Whirlwind saw Oudin loose his bands, but kept still, and when hestole softly away, did not pursue him."

  "What! you saw and permitted his escape?" said the trapper, hurt at thewant of good faith in the chief.

  "He pined for the forest even as I should pine in the white man'svillage. What right had we to detain him in a place, and confine him toa life for which he had no inclination? Let him go; he is free, and itis all he craves."

  "We had the right of the civilized over the savage. It was our place toinstruct and enlighten him, and we have done him a great wrong inpermitting him to return to the brutish life he led when we found him."

  "Would he be happier when civilized, and had learned to curse the GreatSpirit, and drink the white man's fire water? Is the red man happierthan he was before the white man came?" asked the Indian, scornfully.

  "You know, chief," said the trapper, "no one regrets the wrongs my racehave inflicted on your own more than I do. I hope there is a brighterdawn in store for you, and that you may live to bless the coming of mypeople to your shores."

  "The dawn of a never-ending day in the spirit land awaits us--no other.I give you my hand, brother; let there be peace between us," said thechief, sadly.

  The trapper grasped the offered hand in a moment, and after duepreparation, they once more pursued their journey, taking their waydirectly across the prairie that stretched out before them. Theirhorses were fleet travellers, and they hurried over the smooth, greensward that covered the prairie, for two hours, when they were broughtto a sudden pause by stumbling on a borough of prairie dogs, the groundbeing tunneled in every direction underneath, leaving a thin crust ofearth, through which the horses broke, sending the yelping denizenshowling from their dens over the prairie in admirable fright andconfusion. Making a circuit round the deceptive traps of the snarlingcurs, th
ey again struck out for the distant boundary of the prairie,which they hoped soon to reach. At noon they rested by a pool ofstagnant water, the first they had seen since morning, which was unfitfor use but of which the horses drank sparingly. The spring grass, nowtender and nutritious, was cropped with avidity by the horses, andafter a halt of two hours, they again pursued their journey. They soonfound the first buffalo they had seen since the preceding autumn, andthey hailed the sight of them as an omen of good. About sunset,Whirlwind had the good fortune to kill one, and they deemed it prudentto encamp, as it would be impossible for them to reach the boundary ofthe prairie that night. Steaks constituted the chief feature of theirsupper, and a rarity they were, having so long been deprived of them,and which, with the addition of the Indian bread-root, made a no meanrepast.

  They had searched every ravine, cavity, and hollow for more than a milearound for fresh water, but without success. A pool of unwholesomewater similar to the one they rested by at noon, being all they found.This was a little relief to the distressed horses, but none to them.Dividing the milk of the goat between them, they lay down to sleep. Atdawn, they were again in motion; and after three hours' hard riding,they saw the distant forest, that bounded the prairie, looming againstthe horizon. Buffalo, antelope, elk, deer, and fowl now became quitenumerous, giving indications that the forest was well watered andfertile. With renewed energy, they rode on, and about noon entered thewelcome heavily timbered forest--the surface of which was uneven androlling, sometimes rising in gentle hills, then towering in precipitouscliffs, interspersed with sylvan dells, through which streamlets wound,sometimes in quiet beauty, and again dashing down ledges of rock,lashing their waters to a foam.

  Eagerly they drank the waters of the limpid stream for which they aswell as their beasts had been suffering. Tired with their rapid marcheswhich the necessity of procuring water had forced them to take theyresolved to rest the remainder of the day. Selecting a spot by thestream, shut in by tall cliffs on either side, they secured theirhorses and were preparing to spend the night when the chief hurriedlymotioned them to be silent. He then with noiseless tread ascended thecliff behind them. Evidently some new danger awaited them, and withterror they clung to each other for protection from the unknown evil.In half an hour he returned. "Indians yonder!" said he, briefly,pointing towards the cliff on the opposite side of the stream.

  "Have you seen and do you know them?" asked the trapper, adding,"Perhaps we are nearer home, and they belong to some friendly tribes?"

  "Does she?" asked the chief, turning with a scornful gesture towardsMahnewe.

  The squaw rising from the bank where she had been sitting advanced withthe look of sadness entirely dispelled from her face, which was nowsunny and radiant with joy.

  "Mahnewe," said she, speaking earnestly and rapidly, "is the friend ofthe white man, and so are her people. Over the hills yonder is theirvillage and these are their hunting grounds. Let not the white manfear; he has saved the life of a wife of the chief, and Mahnewe willanswer for his safety."

  "Are you sure of what you say?" asked Jane, whose dread of cannibalswas the torture of her life.

  "Mahnewe cannot mistake the place of her people," said the squaw,looking amused at the evident fright of the young girl.

  "I mean of what tribe are they,--are you, Mahnewe?"

  "The squaw will not tell," said the chief, tauntingly. "She knows theyare the enemies of the Arapahoes. The Snake fears the Eagle."

  "Mahnewe is the daughter of a chief, and the wife of a chief. She isnot a coward; red blood is in her veins. She is a Snake, and fears notthe Arapahoe!"

  "Come, this will never answer, chief! Leave Mahnewe to me. Now, tell metruly,--are we on the hunting-grounds of the Snakes, and are you one ofthat tribe?"

  "Mahnewe has said it, and cannot lie," returned the woman earnestly,and with great dignity of manner.

  "If this is true, we are saved," said the trapper. "I have friendsamong that people, and know my way home from their hunting-grounds."

  "Are you sure of what you tell us, Mahnewe?" asked Sidney; "for amistake on this point might involve us all in destruction."

  "Are not yonder the hills where my childhood's years were spent? Whocan forget the home of their kindred, the place of their birth?"

  "Sometimes hills in the distance bear a resemblance to others, whichvanishes on a nearer approach," observed the trapper.

  "Let Mahnewe go to her people, she fears not of finding strangers intheir place," said she, in pleasing tones.

  "A good idea, uncle, let her go and ascertain positively; but keep thechild to prevent treachery," suggested Sidney.

  "Mahnewe goes not without her child, if all our lives should depend onher going!" said the squaw, decidedly.

  "But consider, Mahnewe, if they should not prove to be your people thechild would only hinder your retreat, and if they should be, you canreturn and claim it in safety," said Howe.

  "If my brother listens to the forked tongue of the Snake's squaw, shewill guide the warriors of her people to our retreat, where we shallall be slaughtered," said the chief.

  "I think not, chief; there is an air of sincerity about the squaw thatdispels all thought of treachery in my mind; besides, she is undergreat obligations to us for saving her own and the child's life. TheIndians are not ungrateful you know, chief, and I think we do her wrongto suspect her motives in wanting to go."

  "The Snakes are friends of my brother, and will not harm him. Let thesquaw conduct the dogs to our camp; Whirlwind knows how to die,"returned the chief.

  "They shall not hurt you while we live," said Edward. "Those who areour friends must not offer harm to you, unless they want us theirenemies."

  "Do not go, Mahnewe," said Jane. "Some harm might result from it forwhich we should all repent. We shall find out in the course ofto-morrow at furthest if these are the Snakes, and if they are you canjoin them when we are assured no harm can result to us from it."

  Mahnewe turned her dark, liquid eyes imploringly to Howe as if to gainhis voice in her favor, but they were evidently all against it, and hedid not like to take the responsibility.

  "Not to-night," said he, kindly, "but perhaps to-morrow you may go."

  Sad and sorrowfully she walked away, and they saw how bitter was herdisappointment.

  "Never mind, child," said Howe, "it will all be well yet. Patience andperseverance will overcome everything. Our first business must be tosecure ourselves on the defensive. From the appearance of the Indians,I do not think they suspect our being in this vicinity, and I proposethat our horses be secured in this thicket that skirts the bank here,where they can feed and not be detected. We must do without a fire, andone of us had better go cautiously to the top of the cliff yonder, andreconnoitre."

  "Whirlwind, will go. Keep watch of the squaw, or she will betray us."So saying, the chief started on his scouting expedition.

  Following the course of the brook until it curved around a sudden bendof the cliff, he crossed it, and striking a narrow ravine overhung onone side by shelving rock, he followed on within its shadows for over amile, when the ravine began to widen, the sides gradually lessen inheight, and which, a mile farther on terminated in rolling acclivities,covered with verdure, while the ground between became a beautiful dell,shaded with tall, stately trees, the branches of which were vocal witha hundred bird voices, filling the air with their melody. The dell wasquite free from undergrowth, and the sun was excluded by the primitivetrees, that interlaced their branches, making the forest almostimpenetrable. The soul of the Indian was entranced, as he gazed on thisscene, so wild and silent in its beauty. It was his beau-ideal of theSpirit-Land; and, as he gazed, he drew his hand across his eyes to seeif he, indeed, was waking. Still, there lay the landscape before him,with the melody above. At that moment the spell was broken by a herd ofdeer, leisurely crossing the dell. Drawing his bow, he was on the pointof shooting, when recollecting his errand thither, he recovered hisprudence; for, should the deer escape with an arrow sticking i
n it, andbe seen by the Indians, he was in search of, it would give them tounderstand that others were near them.

  Cautiously he proceeded across the enchanting landscape, and, after anhour's walk, discovered an opening in the forest. "Here," thought thechief, "I shall get a glimpse of the dogs, and if, as I think, they areSnakes, it will go hard with me, if I don't carry off one scalp atleast," and his eyes glared with the ferocity of a tiger. He was asmuch a savage still at heart as ever. Nearing the opening, he sawbefore him a lake to which he approached by a smooth grassy plat, ofseveral rods wide, dotted here and there with mosses, ferns, andbeautiful wild flowers, with an occasional tree shorn of half its limbswhich lay scattered along the water's edge. The opposite bank skirtedthe base of the hills they had seen from the encampment, rising inpeaks, barren and rocky on their summits. The water of the lake wastransparent and calm, and looked as placid as though nothing had everpenetrated the lonely spot in which it was nestled, to mar its surface.The chief on emerging into the open glade, saw the sky had becomeflecked with clouds that were scudding across the heavens, in athousand fantastic waves, while just above the peak of the topmost hillover the lake, a black cloud, heavy and portentous with a gatheringstorm, was rising slowly, leaving a long streak of light unbroken cloudagainst the horizon.

  The chief surveyed the lake, the hills and the forest from which he hademerged, with the surrounding scenery long and earnestly, and thenmurmured to himself in a tone, that betokened a sorrowful certainty;"It is not true, these are not the hunting grounds of the Snakes; theyhave none so good and beautiful as these. We are lost! lost! in theinterminable wilds of the West, where hope or deliverance may nevercome." And the stern but proud chieftain bowed his head in despair fora moment: then stretching his hands towards the sky, which dimly shonethrough the dark rolling clouds, he cried: "Father, Manito! why hastthou left thy child to wander from his people, and cast a spell[10] overhis feet so that he cannot return?--Has he done an evil in thy sight,that he is thus punished?--Great Spirit, Manito! thy prophet awaits thysign!"

  [10] The Indians imagine that good and evil spirits can cast a spell over any person they desire, and while under it, they have no control over their own actions, but are obliged to follow the inclination of the spirit by which the spell is cast.

  As he concluded, a peal of thunder that shook the ground, burst fromthe clouds above, followed by a blinding flash of lightning, which wasquickly followed by another, and another; and, as the wind camesweeping down in angry blasts, it seemed as if every element in naturewere warring against each other. The chief stood unmoved on the spot,his arms still raised, his lips parted but motionless, stupefied by thestorm around him. The Great Spirit he imagined had spoken to himangrily in the storm, and superstitious as all the Indians are, itfilled his soul with horror. Large drops of rain soon began to fall,the wind rose furiously, lashing the water on the lake into huge waves,while wild fowls and birds darted frightened through the air. Still thechieftain stood there. What was now the storm to him? Was not the GreatSpirit angry? and as the rain fell on his upturned face in torrents,the lightnings descended, shivering a tree near where he stood, andstunning him with the shock. He was prostrated, and lay on the greensward motionless, the rain forming a pool about him, which was everymoment augmented as the torrents came down upon him.

  When consciousness again returned, the sky was clear, without a singlecloud to mar its serenity. It was night, and the heavens were dottedwith a thousand gems that apparently smiled at the forlorn appearanceof the half-drowned chief as he slowly dragged himself from hisunsought bath. The lake was as placid as when he first saw it, andthere was nothing to remind him of the commotion that had raged aroundhim, save the shivered tree and his saturated garments and hair.

  "It is the abode of the Evil Spirits," said he, "and they have lured mehither." Starting in the direction whence he came, he saw within half amile, a camp-fire dimly burning as if struggling with wet fuel. Highlyelated at the discovery, as it plainly showed by their lighting a firethat they were unaware of others being around, he crept noiselesslytowards them. Approaching within a few rods he saw they were a party ofabout thirty, who were evidently on a hunt. They were not Snakes; hewas sure of that; but of what tribe they were he could not tell.Evidently not of any tribe of which he had any knowledge, and they hada stronger resemblance to the cannibals than to any others he had seen.With this information he returned about midnight, much to the relief ofthe rest at the camp, who had feared he had been captured, and were ingreat suspense for his safety.