Wild Western Scenes Part 31

"Did Mary wear that ring before the child was lost?" asked Glenn.

"No," replied Roughgrove, "but her mother did."

"I believe he is your son!" said Glenn. "Mary," he continued, "have you any trinkets or toys you used to play with?"

"Yes. Oh, let me get them!" she replied, and running to a corner of the room where her father's chests and trunks had been placed, she produced a small drum and a bra.s.s toy cannon. "He used to play with these from morning till night," she continued, placing them on the floor. She had not taken her hand away from them, before the young chief sprang to her side and cried out--

"They're mine! they're mine! they're William's!"

"What was the child's name?" asked Glenn, quickly.

"William! William!" cried Mary. "It is my brother! it is my poor brother William!" and without a moment's hesitation she threw her arms round his neck, and sobbed upon his breast!

"The poor, poor child!" said Roughgrove, in tremulous tones, embracing them both, his eyes filled with tears.

"Sister! sister!" said the youth, gazing in partial bewilderment at Mary.

"Brother, brother! I am your sister!" said Mary, in tones of thrilling tenderness.

"But mother! where's mother?" asked the youth. The father and sister bowed their heads in silence. The youth, after clinging fondly to Mary a few minutes, started up abruptly and looked amazed, as if waking from a sweet dream to the reality of his recent dreadful condition.

"Brother, why do you look so coldly at us? Why don't you press us to your heart?" said Mary, still clinging to him. The youth's features gradually a.s.sumed a grave and haughty cast, and, turning away, he walked to the stool he had occupied, and sat down in silence.

"I will win him from the Indians," said Mary, running after him, and sitting down at his side.

"Ugh!" exclaimed the youth in displeasure, and moved a short distance away.

"He's not true grit--I 'most wish I had killed him," said Sneak.

"Yes, and pinch me if I don't burn him again, if I get a chance," said Joe.

"Silence!" said Glenn, sternly. For many minutes not a word was spoken. At length Mary, who had been sobbing, raised her head and looked tenderly in the face of her brother. Still he regarded her with indifference. She then seized the toy-drum, which with the other articles had been thrust out of view, and placed them before him. When his eyes rested upon them; the severe and wild expressions of his features again relaxed. The young war-chief was a child again. He abandoned his seat and sat down on the floor beside his sister.

Looking her guilelessly in the face, an innocent and boyish smile played upon his lips.

"You won't go away again and leave your poor sister; will you, William?" said Mary.

"No, indeed. And when the Indians come we'll run away and go to mother, won't we, Mary?" said the youth, in a complete abandonment of time and condition.

"He _is_ restored--restored at last!" exclaimed Roughgrove, walking across the room to where the brother and sister sat. The youth sprang to his feet, and darted a look of defiance at him. "Oh! wretched man that I am! the murderous savages have converted the gentle lamb into a wolf!" Roughgrove then repeated his words to the youth in the Osage language. The youth replied in the same language, his eyes flas.h.i.+ng indignantly. He said it was not true; that the red man was great and n.o.ble, and the pale face was a beast--and added that he had another tomahawk and bows and arrows in his own country, and might see the day when this insult would be terribly resented. The old man sank down on his rude seat, and gave way to excruciating grief.

"Brother William!" cried Mary, tapping the drum. The youth cast down his eyes to where she sat, and their fierceness vanished in a twinkling. She placed the toy in his possession, and rose to bring some other plaything she remembered.

"Sister, don't go--I'll tell mother!" cried the youth, in infantile earnestness.

"I'll come back presently, brother," said Mary, tripping across the room and searching a trunk.

"Make haste--but I'm not afraid--I'll frighten all the Indians away."

Saying this, he rattled the drum as rapidly as possible.

"See what I've got, brother," said Mary, returning with a juvenile book, and sitting down close at his side. He thrust the drum away, and, laughing heartily, placed his arm round his sister and said: "Mother's got _my_ book; but you'll let me look at yours, won't you, sister?"

"Yes that I will, brother--see, this is the little old woman, and there's her dog--"

"Yes, and there's the peddler," cried the youth, pointing at the picture.

"Now can't you read it, brother?"

"To be sure I can--let me read:

"'There was a little woman As I have heard tell, She went to market Her eggs for to sell.'

"See! there she goes, with a basket on her arm and a cane in her hand."

"Yes, and here she is again on this side, fast asleep, and her basket of eggs sitting by her," said Mary; "now let me read the next:

"'She went to market, All on a market day, And she fell asleep On the king's highway.'"

Now do you read about the peddler, brother. Mother used to say there was a naughty word in it."

"I will," cried the youth, eagerly; but he paused and looked steadfastly at the picture before him.

"Why don't you read?" asked Mary, endeavouring to confine his thoughts to the childish employment.

"That's a pretty _skin_, ain't it?" said he, pointing to the red shawl painted on the picture.

"_Skin_!" said Mary; "why, that's her shawl, brother."

"I'll steal one for my squaw," said he.

"_Steal_, brother!" said the trembling girl.

"No I won't, either, sister--don't you know mother says we must never steal, nor tell stories, nor say bad words."

"That's right, brother. But you haven't got an ugly _squaw_, have you?"

"No indeed, sister, that I haven't!"

"I thought you wouldn't have any thing to do with the ugly squaws."

"That I wouldn't--mine's a pretty one."

"Oh, heaven!" cried the weeping girl, throwing herself on her brother's bosom. He kissed her, and strove to comfort her, and turned to the book and continued to turn over the leaves, while Mary sat by in sadness, but ever and anon replying to his childish questions, and still striving to keep him thus diverted.

"Have you any of the clothes you wore when he was a child?" asked Glenn, addressing Roughgrove.

"Yes," replied the old man; and seizing upon the thought, he unlocked the trunk that contained them, and put them on.

"Where's mother?" suddenly asked the young chief.