Oonomoo the Huron. Edward Sylvester Ellis

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СКАЧАТЬ wife vouchsafed no reply, but jerking the fish from his hand, entered the wigwam for the purpose of cooking them, while Hans Vanderbum himself went lounging on through the village, it being his purpose not to seem too anxious and hurried in his effort to gain his news regarding the captive. He was, despite his stupidity, not devoid of sagacity at times.

      He had not long to search. In the very center of the town, his eyes fell upon a promiscuous crowd collected around a wigwam, gazing at something within.

      "Vot you got dere?" he demanded, in a tone of great indignation, as he shoved his way through the bystanders. Those addressed made no reply, waiting for him to satisfy his curiosity by seeing the object for himself. In the interior, he descried a young woman, or rather a girl, for she could scarcely have been more than fifteen or sixteen years of age, seated upon the ground, beside a squaw, with whom it was apparent she had been endeavoring to hold a conversation; but, finding it impossible in the ignorance of each other's language, they had ceased their efforts by common consent and were now sitting motionless.

      [Illustration: A girl, fifteen or sixteen years of age,

       seated upon the ground, beside a squaw.]

      As Hans Vanderbum gazed curiously at her, his big heart filled with pity. She was attired in the plain, homespun dress common among the settlers at that period, her head totally uncovered, and her long, dark hair falling in luxuriant masses around her shoulders. Her hands were clasped and her head bowed with a meek, resigned air that reached more than one Shawnee heart. Her complexion was rather light, her features not dazzlingly beautiful, but prepossessing, the expression which instantly struck the beholder being that of refinement; speaking a nature elevated and holy, as much above that of the beings who surrounded her, as would have been that of an angel had he alighted amid a group of mortals.

      The great exertion made by Hans Vanderbum in reaching the wigwam, caused him to breathe so heavily as to attract the attention of the captive. Catching sight of a white man, she arose quickly, and approaching him, said, eagerly:

      "Oh! I'm so glad to meet one of my own color and race, for I am sure you must be a friend."

      "Yaw, I's your friend," replied Hans Vanderbum, hardly knowing what he said; "and I's sorry as nobody to see you here. How did you got here?"

      "They brought me, the Shawnee warriors did. They attacked the house in the night, when I was alone with the servants. They murdered them all except me. They have brought myself here to perish in captivity."

      "Yaw, de Shawnees ish great on dat business. 'Cause I shneezed dey cotched me once and brought me here to perish in captivity mit yourself," said Hans Vanderbum, in a feeling voice.

      "Are you a prisoner, also?" asked the captive, in considerable surprise.

      "Yaw, but I likes it! I's got a wife, Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, dat is de same shape all de way down, and a little Dutchman, Madokawandock; so dey hasn't to watch, like I shpose dey will have to you."

      "Can any of these around me understand English?" asked the girl, in a low tone.

      "No; de women don't know notting about it, except my wife, and she ain't here; and de men know notink. You needn't be afraid to say anything you pleases to me."

      "You could not betray me," added the girl, turning her dark, soulful eyes anxiously full upon him.

      "No, no," he replied, energetically. "Voot's your name?"

      "Mary Prescott."

      "How fur does you live from here—dat is, how fur did you live?"

      "It must be over thirty miles, in an eastern direction, I think."

      "Does you know Oonomoo?"

      Hans Vanderbum asked the question in a lower tone, for the name was well known to all present.

      "A Huron Indian? Oh, yes; I know him well," replied the captive; her countenance lighting up. "He was well remembered in our neighborhood, and was a true friend to us all. Do you know him too? Though I suppose of course you do, from your asking me the question."

      "Yaw, I knows him, and he knows me too, and we both knows each oder, so dat we are acquainted. Well, dat shentleman is hid off in de woods near here, and he has sent me in to l'arn what I cans about you."

      The prisoner kept back the joyful exclamation that came to her lips, and said:

      "Tell him that I am unharmed and hopeful, and trust that while he interests himself in me, he will not run into danger."

      "Not run into danger!" repeated Hans Vanderbum; "dat is what Oonomoo lives on. He'd die in a week if he wan't into danger, out of grief. He don't do notting else; it's what he was made for," he added, growing enthusiastic in speaking of the Huron.

      "I know he is a brave and true-hearted Indian, and is greatly esteemed by the Moravian missionaries. He hesitates at no risk when his friends are in danger."

      "Ef he does run risk dey don't catch him, 'cause he knows how to run and fight, and ish shmarter dan de Shawnees. Where ish your parents?"

      "My mother and sister happened to be absent on a visit to Falsington, which is fifteen or twenty miles distant from our place, while father, who is a Captain, is doing service somewhere on the frontier, in the American army. How thankful indeed I am that dear mother and Helen were away, for they have escaped this terrible captivity."

      "You washn't left all alone?"

      "Oh, no; there were several servants, and I saw them tomahawked, and heard their piercing cries."

      The captive covered her face, and her frame shook like an aspen at the remembrance of the dreadful scenes through which she had so recently passed. It was several minutes before she recovered her self-command. When she did, Hans Vanderbum proceeded with his questions.

      "Dey burnt de place, I shpose?"

      "Yes, yes; they destroyed everything."

      "I shpose your folks will feel bad when dey finds dese Shawnees have got you, won't dey?"

      "Oh, yes, yes; do not speak of it."

      At this point Hans Vanderbum began to get a sort of dim, vague idea that his style of conversation was not exactly calculated to soothe the feelings of the unfortunate prisoner; so he determined, if possible, to make amends for it. Patting her on the head, he said, gently:

      "Don't feel bad, my darling; I ish shorry for you, but I wants to ax you anoder question."

      "What is it?" queried the maid, with a wondering look.

      "Will you answer it?" asked Hans Vanderbum, endeavoring to put on an arch, quizzical expression.

      "If it is in my power I instantly will. Pray, do not hesitate to ask me anything you choose."

      "Well, den, gits ready for it. I would shust like to know if dere ishn't some feller dat is in love mit you, and you is in love СКАЧАТЬ