The Lost Hunter. John Turvill Adams
lips of Ohquamehud spoke folly. He did not then know that this brother had talked to the Master of Life, who granted to him the life of Huttamoiden's child. The blood of Huttamoiden runs in these veins."
The explanation was perfectly natural, and whatever suspicion had arisen in Holden's mind vanished. It seemed not surprising that the Indian, who also, by uttering his name, had proclaimed himself a Pequot, should be willing to form the acquaintance of one who had proved himself a friend to his tribe, and probably was invested in his imagination with the qualities of a "great medicine." But, though to Holden's high-wrought fancies, the recovery of the boy had seemed miraculous, and he could not avoid connecting his prayers with it, yet he shrank from directly claiming so great a power as the Indian ascribed to him.
"The issues of life and death are with the Great Spirit," he said. "At his pleasure he breathes into our nostrils, and we live; or he turns away his face, and we die. Let not my brother give too much credit to a worm."
The wily Indian, from the other's altered tone and manner, perceived his advantage, and was not slow to use it.
"Because my white brother loved his red brethren, he sought them in their lodges, and there they taught him their language. So when the boy was departing for the happy hunting grounds, my brother remembered their kindness, and held the child by the hand, and would not let him go."
The face of the Solitary worked with emotion while the other was speaking.
"Would that I could explain," he said. "But thou art unable to understand. How canst thou know a Christian heart?"
"The heart of Ohquamehud is a man's."
"Aye; but a savage knows not, and despises forgiveness. I was a stately pine, whose branches mingled with the clouds, and the birds came and lodged therein. And a storm arose, and thunders rolled, and the lightning struck it, and its pride and glory tumbled to the ground. And it was burnt up, all save this blasted trunk." He uttered this with a wild frenzy, and as if hardly conscious of the presence of another.
"Doth the lightning fall from a clear sky?" said the Indian, after a pause. "It is long since a black cloud burst over the ancient hunting-grounds of the Pequots."
"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 pronounced it good; and there, as in your fabled hunting-grounds, might men be blessed but for their passions."
"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 assailed 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 shiver 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 passion 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 shore.
CHAPTER VI.
I will pursue to death this spiteful knight:
Not earth's low centre, nor sea's deepest part,
Nor heaven, nor hell, can shield him from my might:
I will o'ertake him, take him, cleave his heart.
FAIRFAX' TASSO.
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 hardships 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 fishing, and sustained throughout by his vindictive passion 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, Peéna's gratitude 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 Peéna. He understood her gentle nature