Part 22 (1/2)
One morning, as Jasper threw aside the curtain of skins that answered for a door to his cabin, a strange sight met his eyes. In the clearing between the cabin and the lake stood the tall form of an Indian. It was the most n.o.ble and beautiful form that he had ever seen, and the Indian's face and hands were white.
Jasper stood silent. The white Indian bent his eyes upon him, and the two looked in surprise at each other.
The Indian's eyes were dark, and like the eyes of the native races; but his nose was Roman, and his skin English, with a slight brown tinge. His hair was long and curly, and tinged with brown.
”Waubeno,” said Jasper, ”who is that?”
Waubeno came to the entrance of the cabin, and said:
”The white Indian. _They_ bring good. Speak to him. It is a good sign.”
”They?” said Jasper. ”I never knew that there were white Indians, Waubeno. Where do they live? Where do they come from?”
”From the Great River. They come and go, and come and go, and they are unlike other Indians. They know things that other Indians do not know.
They have a book that talks to them. It came from heaven.”
Jasper stepped out on to the clearing, and Waubeno followed him. The white Indian awaited their approach.
”Welcome, stranger,” said Jasper. ”Where are you journeying from?”
”From the Great River (Mississippi) to the land of the lakes. They are coming, coming, my brothers from over the sea, as the prophet said. I have not seen you here before. I am glad that you have come.”
”Where do you live?” asked Jasper.
”My tribe is few, and they wander. They wander till the brothers come.
We are not like other people here, though all the tribes treat us well and give us food and shelter. We are wanderers. We have lived in the country many years, and we have often visited Kaskaskia. You will hear of us there. When the French came, we thought they were brothers. Then the English came, and we felt that they were brothers. The white people are our brothers.”
”Come in,” said Jasper, ”and breakfast with us. You are strange to me. I never heard of you. You seem like a visitant from another world. Tell me, my brother, how came you to be white?”
”I beg your pardon, stranger, but I ask you the same question, How came you to be white? The same Power that made your face like the cloud and the snow, made mine the same. There is kindred blood in our veins, but I know not how it is--we do not know. Our ancestors had a book that told us of G.o.d, but it was lost when the French raised the cross at Kaskaskia. We had a legend of the cross, and of armies marching under the cross, and when the bell began to ring over the praise house there, we found that we, too, had ancient tales of the bell. More I can not tell. All the tribes welcome us, and we belong to all the tribes, and we have wandered for years and years. Our fathers wandered.”
”This is all very strange,” said Jasper. ”Tell us more.”
”I expected your coming,” said the white Indian. ”I was not surprised to see you here. I expected you. I knew it. There are more white brothers to come--many. Let me tell you about it all.
”We had a prophet once. He said that we came from over the sea, and that we would never return, but that we must wander and wander, and that one day our white brothers would come from over the sea to us. They are coming; their white wagons are crossing the plains. Every day they are coming. I love to see them come and pa.s.s. The prophet spoke true.
”The French say that we came from a far-away land called Wales. The French say that a voyager, whose name was Modoc, set sail for the West eight hundred years ago, and was never heard of again in his own land; that his s.h.i.+ps drifted West, and brought our fathers here. That is what the French say. I do not know, but I think that you and I are brothers.
I feel it in my heart. You have treated me like a brother, and I kiss you in my heart. I love the English. They are my friends. I am going to Malden. There will be more white faces here when I come again.”
He took breakfast in the cabin, and went away. Jasper hardly comprehended the visit. He sought the Indian agent, and described to him the appearance of the wandering stranger, and related the story that the man had told.
”There are white crows, white blackbirds, white squirrels, and white Indians,” said the agent, ”strange as it may seem. I know nothing about the origin of any of them--only that they do exist. Ever since the French and Indians came to the lakes white Indians have been seen. So have white crows and blackbirds. The French claim that these white Indians are of Welsh origin, and are the descendants of a body of mariners who were driven to our sh.o.r.es in the twelfth century by some accident of navigation or of weather. If so, the Welsh are the second discoverers of America, following the Northmen. But I put no faith in these traditions. I only know that from time to time a white-faced Indian is seen in the Mississippi Valley. There are many tales and traditions of them. It is simply a mystery that will never be solved.”
”But what am I to think of the white Indian's story?”
”Simply that he had been taught by the French romancers, and that he believed it himself. Black faces have strangely appeared among white peoples, and Nature alone, could she speak, could explain her laws in these cases. The Indians have various traditions of the white Indian's appearance in the regions about Chicago; they regard him as a medicine-man, or a prophet, or a kind of good ghost. It is thought to be good fortune to meet him.”