The Prairie Flower: A Tale of the Indian Border

"I accept, sachems, my brothers; we agree, I shall be dead, or you will be free."

"May the Grizzly Bear live for ever!" the crowd shouted.

"War to the white men!" Natah Otann continued, "a war without truce or mercy. A slaughter of wild beasts, as they are accustomed to treat us. Remember the law of the prairies: – eye for eye, tooth for tooth. Let each chief send the wampum of war to his nation, for at the end of this moon we will arouse our enemies by a thunderbolt. At the seventh hour of this night we will meet again, to select the subaltern chiefs, number our warriors, and choose the day and hour of attack."

The chiefs bowed without replying, rejoined their escorts, and soon disappeared in a cloud of dust. Natah Otann and the White Buffalo remained alone, a detachment of Blackfeet warriors watching over them at a distance. Natah Otann, with his arms crossed and head bowed, seemed plunged in profound reflection.

"Well," the old Indian said, with an almost imperceptible shade of irony in his voice, "you have succeeded, my son; you are happy. Your plans will, at length, be accomplished."

"Yes," he replied, without noticing the sarcastic tone of voice; "war is declared; my plans have succeeded; but now, friend, I tremble at such a heavy task. Will these peculiar men thoroughly comprehend me? Will they be able to read, in my heart, all the love and adoration I feel for them? Are they ripe for liberty? perhaps they have not suffered enough yet? Father, father, whose heart is so powerful and soul so great: whose life was used up in numerous contests, counsel me! help me! I am young and weak, and I only have a strong will and a boundless devotion to support me."

The old man smiled mournfully, and muttered, answering his own thoughts more than his friend: —

"Yes; my life was used up in supreme struggles: the work I helped to raise has been overthrown, but not destroyed; for a new society, full of vitality, has risen from the ruins of a decrepit society; by our efforts the furrow was ploughed too deeply for it ever to be filled up again: progress marching onward, nothing can check or stop it! Do not halt on the road you have chosen; it is the greatest and most noble a great heart can follow."

In uttering these words, the old man had allowed his enthusiasm to carry him away; his head was raised; his brow glistened; the expiring sun played on his face, and imparted to it an expression which Natah Otann had never seen before, and which filled him with respect. But the old man shook his head sorrowfully, and continued: —

"Child, how will you keep your promise? where will you find Motecuhzoma?"

Natah Otann smiled.

"You will soon see, my father," he said.

At the same moment, an Indian, whose panting horse seemed to breathe fire through its nostrils, came up to the chiefs, where he stopped suddenly, as if converted into marble; without dismounting, he bent down to Natah Otann's ear.

"Already!" the latter exclaimed, "Oh! heaven must be on my side! There is not a moment to lose. My horse! quick."

"What is the matter?" the White Buffalo asked.

"Nothing that relates to you at present, my father; but you shall soon know all."

"You are going alone, then?"

"I must for a short period. Farewell!"

Natah Otann's horse uttered a snort of pain, and started at full gallop. Ten minutes later all the Indians had disappeared, and solitude and silence prevailed round the tree of the Master of Life.

CHAPTER XI

AMERICAN HOSPITALITY

Matters had reached this point at the moment when the story we have undertaken to tell, begins: now that we have supplied these indispensable explanations, we will take up our narrative again at the point where we broke it off.

John Black and his family, posted behind the barricade that surrounded the camp, regarded with joy, mingled with alarm, the cavalcade coming toward them like a tornado, raising clouds of dust in its passage.

"Attention, boys!" the American said to his son and servants, with his hand on his trigger. "You know the diabolical trickery of these apes of the prairie; we must not let them surprise us a second time; at the least suspicious sign, a bullet! We shall thus prove to them that we are on our guard."

The emigrant's wife and daughter, with their eyes fixed on the prairie, attentively followed the movements of the Indians.

"You are mistaken, my love," Mrs. Black said; "these men have no hostile designs. The Indians rarely attack by day; when they do so, they never come so openly as this."

"The more so," the young lady added, "as, if I am not mistaken, I can see Europeans galloping at the head of the party."

"Oh!" Black said, "that really has no significance, my child. The prairies swarm with scoundrels who join those demons of Redskins when honest travellers are to be plundered. Who knows, indeed, whether white men were not the instigators of last night's attack?"

"Oh, father, I never could believe such a thing as that," Diana remarked.

Miss Black, of whom we have hitherto said but little, was a girl of about seventeen, tall and slender; her large black eyes, bordered with velvety lashes; the thick bandeaux of brown hair; her little mouth, with its rosy lips and pearly teeth, made her a charming creature, who would have been an ornament anywhere; but in the desert must naturally attract attention. Religiously educated by her mother, a good and pious Presbyterian, Diana still retained all the candour and innocence of youth, combined with that experience of everyday life imparted by the rude life of the clearings, where people begin early to think and act for themselves. In the meanwhile the cavalcade rapidly approached, and was now no great distance off.

"Those are really our animals galloping down there," Will said; "I recognise Sultan, my good horse."

"And Dolly, my poor milch cow," Mrs. Black said, with a sigh.

"Console yourselves," Diana said, "I'll answer for it these people are bringing back our cattle."

The emigrant shook his head in agitation.

"The Indians never give up what they have once seized; but, by my soul, I'll have it out with them, and not let myself be robbed without a trial for it."

"Wait a minute, father," said Will, stopping him, for the emigrant was about to leap over the intrenchments, "we shall soon know what their intentions are."

"Hum! they are very clear, in my idea. The demons want to propose to us some disgusting bargain."

"Perhaps, father, you are mistaken," Diana said, quickly; "and see, they are stopping, and apparently consulting."

In fact, on arriving within gunshot, the Indians halted, and began talking together.

"Why shall we not go on?" the Count asked Bright-eye.

"H'm, you don't know the Yankees, Mr. Edward. I am sure that, if we were to go ten paces further, we should be saluted by a shower of bullets."

"Nonsense!" the young man said, with a shrug of his shoulder; "they are not so mad as to act in that way."

"It's possible; but they would do as I tell you. Look attentively, and you will see from this spot the barrels of their rifles glistening between the stakes of the barricades."

"By Jove! it's true; then they want to be massacred."

"They would have been so long ago, had not my brother interceded in their favour," Natah Otann said, joining in the conversation.

"And I thank you, chief. The desert is large; what harm can those poor devils do you?"

"They, none; but presently others will come and settle by their side, and so on; so that in six months my brother would see a city at a spot where there is now nothing but nature as it left the omnipotent hands of the Master of Life."

"That is true," Bright-eye said, "the Yankees respect nothing; the rage for building cities renders them dangerous madmen."

"Why have we stopped, chief?" the Count said, recurring to his first question.

"To negotiate."

"Will you do me a kindness? Leave this business to me. I am curious to see how these people understand the laws of war, and how they will receive me."

"My brother is free."

"Wait for me here, then, and do not make a move during my absence."

The young man took off his weapons, which he handed to his servant.

"What?" Ivon remarked. "Are you going, my lord, in this state among those heretics?"

"How else should I go? You know very well that a flag of truce has nothing to fear."

"That is possible," the Breton said, very slightly convinced; "but if your lordship will believe me, you will, at least, keep your pistols in your belt; for an accident happens so easily, and you do not know among what sort of people you are going."

"You are mad!" the Count said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, then, as you are going unarmed to speak with people who do not inspire me with the slightest confidence, I must ask your lordship to permit me to accompany you."

"You, nonsense!" the young man said, laughing. "You know very well that you are a wonderful coward; that's agreed on."

"Perfectly true; but I feel capable of anything to defend my master."

"There we have it; your cowardice need only come on you suddenly, and, in your alarm, you will be ready to kill everybody. No, no, none of that; I do not wish to get into trouble through you."

And dismounting, he walked in the direction of the barricades. On arriving a short distance from them, he took out a white handkerchief, and waved it in the air. Black, still ready to fire, carefully watched the Count's every movement, and when he saw his amicable demonstration, he rose, and made him a signal to come on. The young man quietly returned his handkerchief to his pocket, lit a cigar, stuck his glass in his eye, and after drawing on his gloves, walked resolutely on. On reaching the intrenchments, he found himself in front of Black, who was waiting for him, leaning on his rifle.

"What do you want of me?" the American said, roughly. "Make haste! I have no time to lose in conversation."

The Count surveyed him haughtily, assumed the most insolent posture he could select, and puffing a cloud of smoke into his face, said dryly —

"You are not polite, my dear fellow."

"Halloa!" the other said. "Have you come here to insult me?"

"I have come to do you a service; and if you continue in that tone, I am afraid I shall be obliged not to do it."

"We'll see to that – do me a service! And what may it be?" the American asked with a grin.

"You are a low fellow," the Count remarked, "with whom it is offensive to talk. I prefer to withdraw."

"Withdraw – oh, nonsense! You are too valuable a hostage. I shall keep you, my gentleman, and only give you up at a good figure,", the American continued.

"What! Is that the way you comprehend the law of nations? That's curious," the Count said, still sarcastic.

"There is no law of nations with bandits."

"Thanks for your compliment, master. And what would you do to keep me, if I did not think proper?"

"Like this," the American said, laying his hand roughly on his shoulder.

"What!" the Count said. "I really believe, Heaven forgive me! that you dared to lay a hand on me!"

And ere the emigrant had time to prevent it, he seized him round the waist, lifted him from the ground, and hurled him over the barricade. The giant fell all bruised in the middle of his camp. Instead of withdrawing, as any other might have done in his place, the young man crossed his arms, and waited, smoking peacefully. The emigrant, stunned by his rough fall, rose, shaking himself like a wet dog, and feeling his ribs, to assure himself that there was nothing broken. The ladies uttered a cry of terror on seeing him re-enter the camp in such a peculiar way, while his son and servants looked toward him, ready to fire at the first signal.

"Lower your guns," he said to them; and leaping once more over the barricade, he walked towards the Count. The latter awaited him with perfect calmness.

"Ah! there you are," he said, "Well, how did you like that?"

"Come, come," the American replied, holding out his hand; "I was in the wrong; I am a brute beast; forgive me."

"Very good; I like you better like that; we only need to understand each other. You are now prepared to listen to me, I fancy?"

"Quite."

There are certain men, like John Black, with whom it is necessary to employ extreme measures, and prove your superiority to them. With such persons you do not argue, but smash them; after which it always happens that these men, before so intractable, become gentle as lambs, and do all you want. The American, possessed of great strength, and confiding in it, thought he had a right to be insolent with a slight and weak looking man; but so soon as this man had proved to him, in a peremptory manner, that he was the more powerful of the two, the bull drew in his horns, and recoiled all the distance he had advanced.

"This night," the Count then said, "you were attacked by the Blackfeet; I wished to come to your aid, but it was impossible, and, besides, I should have arrived too late. As, however, for some reason or other; the men who attacked you feel a certain amount of consideration for me, I have profited by my influence to make them restore the cattle they stole from you."

"Thanks; believe that I sincerely regret what has passed between us; but I was so annoyed by the loss I had experienced."

"I understand all that, and willingly pardon you, the more so as I, perhaps, gave you rather too rude a shock just now."

"Oh, do not mention it, I beg."

"As you please; it is all the same to me."

"And my cattle?"

"Are at your disposal. Will you have them at once?"

"I will not conceal from you that – "

"Very good," the Count interrupted him; "wait a minute, I will tell them to bring them up."

"Do you think I have nothing to fear from the Indians?"

"Not if you know how to manage them."

"Well, then, shall I wait for you?"

"Only a few minutes."

The Count went down the hill again with the same calm step he had gone up it. So soon as he rejoined the Indians, his friends surrounded him; they had seen all that passed, and were delighted at the way in which he had ended the discussion.

"Good heavens! how coarse those Americans are," the young man said. "Pray give him his cattle, chief, and let us have done with him. The animal all but put me in a passion."

"He is coming toward us," Natah Otann replied, with an undefinable smile. Black, indeed, soon came up. The worthy emigrant, having been duly scolded by his wife and daughter, had recognized the full extent of his stupidity, and was most anxious to repair it.

"Really, gentlemen," he said, "we cannot part in this way. I owe you great obligations, and am desirous to prove to you that I am not such a brute as I probably seem to be. Be kind enough to stay with us, if only for an hour, to show us that you bear no malice."

This invitation was given in a hearty, but, at the same time, cordial manner, and it was so evident that the good man was confused, that the Count had not the heart to refuse him. The Indians camped where they were. The chief and the three hunters followed the American into his camp, where the cattle had already been restored. The reception was as it should be in the desert; the ladies had hastily prepared refreshments under the tent, while William and the two serving men made a breach in the barricade, to give passage to his father's guests. Lucy Black and Diana awaited the newcomers at the entrance of the camp.

"You are welcome, gentlemen," the Americans wife said, with a graceful bow; "we are all so much indebted to you, that we are only too happy to receive you."

The chief and the Count bowed politely to the lady, who was doing all in her power to repair the clumsy brutality of her husband. The Count, at the sight of Diana, felt an emotion which he could not, at the first blush, understand; his heart beat on regarding this charming creature, who was exposed to so many dangers through the life to which she was condemned. Diana blushed at the ardent glance of the young man, and timidly drew nearer her mother, with that instinct of modesty innate in woman's heart, which makes her ever seek protection from her to whom she owes existence.

After the first compliments, Natah Otann, the Count, and Bright-eye, entered the tent where Black and his son were awaiting them. When the ice was broken, which does not take long among people accustomed to prairie life, the conversation became more animated and intimate.

"So," the Count asked, "you have left the clearings with the intention of never returning?"

"Oh, yes," the emigrant answered; "for a man having a family, everything is becoming so dear on the frontier, that he must make up his mind to enter the desert."

"I can understand your doing so as a man, for you can always manage to get out of difficulties; but your wife and daughter – you condemn them to a very sorrowful and dangerous life."

"It is a wife's duty to follow her husband," Mrs. Black said with a slight accent of reproach. "I am happy wherever he is, provided I am by his side."

"Good, madam; I admire such sentiments; but permit me an observation."

"Certainly, sir."

"Was it necessary to come so far to find a suitable farm?"

"Certainly not; but we should have run the risk of being someday expelled from the new clearing by the owners of the land, and compelled to begin a new plantation further away," she said.

"While now," Black continued, "at the place where we are, we have nothing of that sort to fear, as the land belongs to nobody."

"My brother is mistaken," the chief said, who had not yet spoken a word; "the country, for ten days' march in every direction, belongs to me and my tribe; the Paleface is here on the hunting grounds of the Kenhas."

Black regarded Natah Otann with an air of embarrassment.

"Well," he said, after a moment's pause, as if speaking against the grain; "we will go further, wife."

"Where can the Palefaces go to find land that belongs to nobody?" the chief continued, severely.

This time the American had not a word to say. Diana, who had never before seen an Indian so close, regarded the chief with a mingled feeling of curiosity and terror. The Count smiled.

"The chief is right," Bright-eye said, "the prairies belong to the Red men."

Black had bowed his head on his chest, in perplexity.

"What is to be done?" he muttered.

Natah Otann laid his hand on his shoulder.

"Let my brother open his ears," he said to him; "a chief is about to speak."

The American fixed an inquiring glance on him.

"Does this country suit my brother then?" the Indian continued.

"Why should I deny it? This country is the finest I ever saw; close to me I have the river, behind me, immense virgin forests. Oh yes, it is a fine country, and I should have made a magnificent plantation."

"I have told my Paleface brother," the chief went on, "that this country belonged to me."

"Yes, you told me so, chief, and it is true; I cannot deny it."

"Well, if the Paleface desires it, he can obtain so much ground as he wishes," Natah Otann said, concisely.

At this proposition, which the American was far from suspecting, he pricked up his ears; the squatter's nature was aroused in him.

"How can I buy the land when I possess nothing?" he said.

"That is of no consequence," the chief replied.

The astonishment now became general; each looked at the Indian curiously: for the conversation had suddenly acquired a grave importance which no one expected. Black, however, was not deceived by this apparent facility.

"The chief has doubtless not understood me," he said.

The Indian shook his head.

"The Paleface cannot buy the land, because he has not wherewith to pay for it; those were his words."

"True; and the chief answered that it was of little matter."

"I said so."

There was no mistake, the two men had clearly understood one another.

"There is some devilry behind that," Bright-eye muttered in his moustache; "an Indian does not give an egg, unless he expects an ox in return."

"What do you want to arrive at, chief?" the Count asked Natah Otann, frankly.

"I will explain myself," the latter said; "my brother interests himself in this family, I believe?"

"I do," the young man answered, with some surprise, "and you know my reasons."

"Good; let my brother pledge himself to accompany me during two moons, without asking any explanation of my actions, and give me his aid whenever I require it, and I will give this man as much ground as he needs to found a settlement, and he need never fear being annoyed by the Redskins, or dispossessed by the Whites, for I am really the owner of the land, and no other can lay claim to it."

"A moment," Bright-eye said, as he rose; "in my presence, Mr. Edward will not accept such a bargain; no one buys a pig in a poke, and it would be madness to submit his will to the caprices of another man."

Natah Otann frowned, his eye flashed fire, and he rose.

"Dog of the Palefaces," he shouted, "take care of thy words – I have once spared thy life."

"Your menaces do not frighten me, Redskin," the Canadian replied, resolutely; "you lie if you say that you were master of my life; it only depends from the will of God; you cannot cause a hair of my head to fall without His consent."

Natah Otann laid his hand on his knife, a movement immediately imitated by the hunter, and they stood opposite each other, ready for action. The ladies uttered a shriek of terror, William and his father stood before them, ready to interfere in the quarrel, if it were necessary. But the Count had already, quick as thought, thrown himself between the two men, shouting loudly —

"Stop! I insist on it!"

Yielding to the ascendency of the speaker, the Blackfoot and the Canadian each fell back a step, returned their knives to their girdles, and waited. The Count looked at them for a moment, then, holding out his hand to Bright-eye, said, affectionately —

"Thank you, my friend, but for the present I do not require your aid."

"Good, good," the hunter said; "you know I am yours, body and soul. Mr. Edward, it is only deferred." And the worthy Canadian sat down again quietly.

"As for you, chief," the young man continued, "the proposals are unacceptable. I should be mad to agree to them, and I hope I am not quite in that state yet. I wish to teach you this, that I have only come on the prairie to hunt for a short time; that time has passed; pressing business requires my presence in the United States, and dispels my desire to be useful to these good people; so soon as I have accompanied you to the village, according to my promise, I shall say good-bye to you, and probably never return."

"Which will be extremely agreeable to me," Bright-eye said, in confirmation.

The Indian did not stir.

"Still," the Count went on, "there is, perhaps, a way of settling the matter to the satisfaction of all parties; land is not so dear here; tell me your price, and I will pay you at once, either in dollars, or in bills on a New York banker."

"All right," the hunter said; "there is still that way open."

"Oh! I thank you, sir," Mrs. Black exclaimed, "but my husband cannot and ought not to accept such a proposal."

"Why not, my dear lady, if it suits me, and the chief accepts my offer?"

Black, we must do him the justice to say, satisfied himself by signifying his approval by a gesture; but the worthy squatter, like a true American, was very careful not to say a word. As for Diana, fascinated by such disinterestedness, she gazed on the Count with eyes sparkling with gratitude, not daring to express aloud what her secret thoughts were about this noble and generous gentleman. Natah Otann raised his head.

"I will prove to my brother," he said, in a gentle voice, and bowing courteously, "that the Red men are as generous as the Palefaces. I sell him eight hundred acres of land, to be chosen where he pleases along the river, for one dollar."

"A dollar?" the young man exclaimed, in surprise.

"Yes," the chief said, smiling, "in that way I shall be paid, my brother will owe me nothing; and if he consents to stay a little while with me, it will be of his own accord, and because he likes to be with a true friend."

This unforeseen result to a scene which had for a moment threatened to end in blood, filled all persons with surprise. Bright-eye alone was not duped by the chief's courtesy.