Wild Western Scenes Part 21

"What fright?" demanded Joe, with affected surprise.

"Now, _can_ you say you weren't skeered?"

"Ha! ha! ha! I believe you really thought I _was_ frightened. Why, you dunce, you! I only ran in to tell Miss Mary about it."

"Now go to bed. Don't speak to me agin to night," said Sneak, indignantly.

"I'll go and get something to eat," said Joe, retreating into the house.

"Tell Roughgrove to come here," said Boone, speaking to Joe.

"I will," said Joe, vanis.h.i.+ng through the door.

When the old ferryman came out, Boone requested him (he being the most familiar with the Osage language,) to ask the savage by what means he was enabled to get inside of the inclosure. Roughgrove did his bidding; and the Indian replied that the Great Spirit _threw_ him over the palisade, because he once killed a friend of Boone's at the cave-spring, and was now attempting to kill another.

"Why did you wish to kill us?" asked Roughgrove.

The Indian said it was because they thought Glenn had a great deal of money, many fire weapons, and powder and bullets, which they (the savages) wanted.

"Was it _right_ to rob the white man of these things, and then to murder him?" continued Roughgrove.

The savage replied that the prophet (Raven) had told the war-party it was right. Besides, they came a long and painful journey to get (Glenn's) goods, and had suffered much with cold in digging under the snow; several of their party had been killed and wounded, and he thought they had a good right to every thing they could get.

"Did the whites ever go to your village to rob and murder?" inquired the old ferryman.

The Indian a.s.sumed a proud look, and replied that they _had_. He said that the buffalo, the bear, the deer, and the beaver--the eternal prairies and forests--the rivers, the air and the sky, all belonged to the red men. That the whites had not been _invited_ to come among them, but they had intruded upon their lands, stolen their game, and killed their warriors. Yet, he said, the Indians did not hate Boone, and would not have attacked the premises that night, if they had known he was there.

"Why do they not hate Boone? He has killed more of them than any one else in this region," continued Roughgrove.

The Indian said that Boone was a great prophet, and was loved by the Great Spirit.

"Will the war-party return hither to-night?" asked Roughgrove.

The Indian answered in the negative; and added that they would never attack that place again, because the Great Spirit had fought against them.

Boone requested Roughgrove to ask what would be done with the false prophet who had advised them to make the attack.

The savage frowned fiercely, and replied that he would be tied to a tree, and shot through the heart a hundred times.

"What do you think we intend to do to _you_?" asked Roughgrove.

The savage said he would be skinned alive and put under the ice in the river, or burned to death by a slow fire. He said he was ready to die.

"I'll be shot if he isn't a s.p.u.n.ky fellow!" said Sneak.

"Do you desire such a fate?" continued the old ferry man.

"The Indian looked at him with surprise, and answered without hesitation that he _did_--and then insisted upon being killed immediately.

"Would you attempt to injure the white man again if we were not to kill you?"

The Indian smiled, but made no answer.

"I am in earnest," continued Roughgrove, "and wish to know what you would do if we spared your life."

The Indian said such talk was only trifling, and again insisted upon being dispatched.

After a short consultation with Boone and Glenn, Roughgrove repeated his question.

The savage replied that he did not believe it possible for him to escape immediate death--but if he were not killed, he could never think of hurting any of those, who saved him, afterwards. Yet he stated very frankly that he would kill and rob any _other_ pale-faces he might meet with.

"Let me blow his brains out," said Sneak, throwing his gun up to his shoulder. The Indian understood the movement, if not the words, and turning towards him, presented a full front, without quailing.

"He speaks the truth," said Boone; "he would never injure any of us himself, nor permit any of his tribe to do it, so far as his influence extended. Yet he will die rather than make a promise not to molest others. His word may be strictly relied upon. It is not fear that extorts the promise never to war against us--it would be his grat.i.tude for sparing his life. Take down your gun, Sneak. Let us decide upon his fate. I am in favour of liberating him."

"And I," said Glenn.

"And I," said Roughgrove.

"I vote for killing him," said Sneak.

"Hanged if I don't, too," said Joe, who had been listening from the door.

"Spare him," said Mary, who came out, and saw what was pa.s.sing.

"We have the majority, Mary," said Glenn; "and when innocence pleads, the generous hand is stayed."

Roughgrove motioned the savage to follow, and he led him to the gate.

The prisoner did not understand what was to be done. He evidently supposed that his captors were about to slay him, and he looked up, as he thought, the last time, at the moon and the stars, and his lips moved in deep and silent adoration.

Roughgrove opened the gate, and the savage followed him out, composedly awaiting his fate. But seeing no indication of violence, and calling to mind the many wild joys of his roving youth, and the horrors of a sudden death, he spoke not, yet his brilliant eyes were dimmed for a moment with tears. His deep gaze seemed to implore mercy at the hands of his captors. He would not utter a pet.i.tion that his life might be spared, yet his breast heaved to rove free again over the flowery prairies, to bathe in the clear waters of running streams, to inhale the balmy air of midsummer morning, to chase the panting deer upon the dizzy peak, and to hail once more the bright smiles of his timid bride in the forest-shadowed glen.

"Go! thou art free!" said Roughgrove.

The Indian stared in doubt, and looked reproachfully at the guns in the hands of his captors, as if he thought they were only mocking him with hopes of freedom, when it was their intention to shoot him down the moment he should think his life was truly spared.

"Go! we will not harm thee!" repeated Roughgrove.

"And take this," said Mary, placing some food in his yielding hand.

The Indian gazed upon the maiden's face. His features, by a magical transition, now beamed with confidence and hope. Mary was in tears--not tears of pity for his impending death, but a gush of generous emotion that his life was spared. The savage read her heart--he knew that the white woman never intercedes in vain, and that no victim falls when sanctified by her tears. He clasped her hand and pressed it to his lips; and then turning away in silence, set off in a stately and deliberate pace towards the west. He looked not back to see if a treacherous gun was pointed at him. He knew that the maiden had not trifled with him. He knew that she would not mock a dying man with bread. He neither looked back nor quickened his step. And so he vanished from view in the valley.

"Dod! he's gone! We ought to've had his sculp!" said Sneak, betraying serious mortification.

"We must give it up, though--we were in the minority," said Joe, satisfied with the decision.

"In the what?" asked Sneak.

"In the minority," said Joe.