The Indian: On the Battle-Field and in the Wigwam. Frost John

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      ANY years ago, a Scotchman and his wife, named M’Dou-gall, emigrated to America. Having but very little money, he purchased some land upon the verge of civilization, where it was sold for a low price. By great exertions and the aid of his neighbors, M’Dougall soon had a comfortable farm, well stocked. But the inconvenience of distance from the church, market, and mill, were felt, and caused discontent with the location.

      One day, while the farmer was away at the mill, the duty of driving up the cows to milk devolved on the wife, and that thrifty and industrious woman went out in quest of them. Not accustomed to going far from the house, she wandered through the woods, got bewildered, and just before dark sank upon the ground in despair. An Indian hunter soon came along, and guessing her situation, induced her to follow him to his wigwam, where she was kindly fed and lodged for the night by the hunter’s wife.

      In the morning, the Indian conducted his guest to her cattle, and thence home. M’Dou-gall, grateful for his service, presented him with a suit of clothes, and invited him to become his frequent visitor. Three days afterwards he returned, and endeavored, partly, by signs, and partly in broken English, to induce M’Dougall to follow him; but the Scotchman refused. Time was precious to him who owed all his comforts to hard labor, and the Indian repeated his entreaties in vain. The poor fellow looked grieved and disappointed; but a moment after, a sudden thought struck him.

      Mrs. M’Dougall had a young child, which the Indian’s quick eye had not failed to notice; and finding that words and gestures would not persuade his Scotch friend, he approached the cradle, seized the child, and darted out of the house with the speed of the antelope. The father and mother instantly followed, calling loudly on him to return; but he had no such intention. He led them on, now slower, now faster, occasionally turning towards them, laughing and holding up the child to their view. After proceeding in this manner for some time, the Indian halted on the margin of a most beautiful prairie, covered with the richest vegetation, and extending over several thousand acres. In a moment after, the child was restored to its parents, who, wondering at such strange proceedings, stood awhile panting for breath. On the other hand, the Indian seemed overjoyed at the success of his manoevre, and never did a human being frisk about and gesticulate with greater animation.

      At length his feelings found vent in broken English, nearly in these words:—“You think Indian treacherous; you think him wish steal the child. No, no, Indian has child of his own. Indian knew you long ago; saw you when you not see him; saw you hard working man. Some white men bad and hurt poor Indian. You not bad; you work hard for your wife and child; but you choose bad place; you never make rich there. Indian see your cattle far in the forest; think you come and catch them; you not come; your wife come. Indian find her faint and weary; take her home; wife fear go in; think Indian kill her! No, no! Indian lead her back; meet you very sad; then very glad to see her. You kind to Indian; give him meat and drink and better clothes than your own. Indian grateful; wish you come here; not come; Indian very sorry; take the child; know you follow child; if Indian farm, Indian farm here. Good ground; not many trees; make road in less than half a moon; Indian help you. Indians your friends; come, live here.”

      M’Dougall instantly saw the advantages of the change, and taking the red man’s advice, the day was soon fixed for the removal of his log-house, along with the rest of his goods and chattels; and the Indian, true to his word, brought a party of his red brethren to assist in one of the most romantic removals that ever took place. A fertile spot was selected in the “garden of the desert,” a fine farm soon smiled around, and M’Dougall had no cause to regret the Indian’s friendly manoeuvre.

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GRAND-SUN.

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      RAND-SUN was a chief of the Natchez tribe. Sun was a common name for all chiefs of that nation; this chief was particularly distinguished in the first war with the French, in which the Natchez engaged, and the title of Great-Sun was given him by his people. He was brave, wise, and generous, and a friend to the whites until the haughty and overbearing disposition of one man brought ruin upon the whole colony. The affair occurred in 1729.

      Grand-Sun resided in the beautiful village called White Apple, near the French post of Natchez, the commandant of which was M. Chopart. This officer had been removed from his post on account of his misconduct and and abominable injustice towards the Indians, but had been reinstated, and his conduct had been the same as before. He projected the building an elegant village, and none appeared to suit his purpose so well as the White Apple of Grand-Sun. He sent for the chief to the fort, and unhesitatingly told him that he must give up his village, and remove elsewhere. Grand-Sun stifled his surprise, and replied, “that his ancestors had lived in that village for as many years as there were hairs in his double queu, and, therefore, it was good that they should continue there still.” This was interpreted to the commandant, and he became so enraged, that he threatened Grand-Sun with punishment if he did not comply.

      A council of the Natchez was held. They saw that all was hopeless, unless they could rid themselves of Chopart by some stratagem. They decided to attempt it. To gain time, an offer was made to the commandant, of tribute, in case he should permit them to remain on their lands until harvest. The offer was accepted, and the Indians matured their plan. Bundles of sticks were sent to the neighboring tribes, and their meaning explained. Each bundle contained as many sticks as days before the massacre of the French at Natchez; and that no mistake should arise in regard to the fixed day, every morning a stick was drawn from the bundle and broken in pieces, and the day of the last stick was that of the execution.

      The secret was confided to none but the older warriors, who could be depended upon. But Grand-Sun was compelled to make a great sacrifice of private feeling in revenging the wrongs of his countrymen. He had won the respect and esteem of several of the French hunters by his generosity and other noble qualities; and the very intimate acquaintance of one of them in particular. This was Armand Griffin, whose family resided at Natchez, while he engaged in the laborious but profitable business of hunting. Grand-Sun and Griffin had become close friends. The hospitable door of the chief’s wigwam was ever open to the hunter, and the latter frequently visited him, Grand-Sun had instructed him in all the mysteries of woodcraft, and Griffin being naturally of a daring and restless temper, had become one of the boldest and best hunters in that part of the country. In return, he instructed Grand-Sun in many of the arts of the white man, and thus mutual services strengthened the links of friendship.

      When Grand-Sun had matured his scheme of revenge, he thought of the situation of Griffin’s family, and without hinting his purpose, advised the hunter to remove them for a time. But he either would not or could not, disregarding the earnest entreaties of the chief to that effect. As the appointed day approached, and the security of feeling among the French promised success to the scheme of massacre, Grand-Sun renewed his entreaties, but still without daring to disclose the secret intent. Griffin not only said that his family must remain at the post, but that he himself must be there upon the day which the chief СКАЧАТЬ