Part 11 (1/2)
It was a moment of intense anxiety to our poor wanderers, whose terrors were more excited on behalf of the young Mohawk than for themselves, and they congratulated her on her escape with affectionate warmth.
”Are my white brothers afraid to die?” was the young squaw's half-scornful reply. ”Indiana is the daughter of a brave; she fears not to die?”
The latter end of September, and the first week in October, had been stormy and even cold. The rainy season, however, was now over; the nights were often illuminated by the Aurora borealis, which might be seen forming an arch of soft and lovely brightness over the lake, to the north and north-eastern portions of the horizon, or shooting upwards, in ever-varying shafts of greenish light, now hiding, now revealing the stars, which shone with softened radiance through the silvery veil that dimmed their beauty. Sometimes for many nights together the same appearance might be seen, and was usually the forerunner of frosty weather, though occasionally it was the precursor of cold winds, and heavy rains.
The Indian girl regarded it with superst.i.tious feelings, but whether as an omen for good or ill, she would not tell. On all matters connected with her religions notions she was shy and reserved, though occasionally she unconsciously revealed them. Thus the warnings of death or misfortunes were revealed to her by certain ominous sounds in the woods, the appearance of strange birds or animals, or the meanings of others.
The screeching of the owl, the bleating of the doe, or barking of the fox, were evil auguries, while the flight of the eagle and the croaking of the raven were omens of good. She put faith in dreams, and would foretel good or evil fortune from them; she could read the morning and evening clouds, and knew from various appearances of the sky, or the coming or departing of certain birds or insects, changes in the atmosphere. Her ear was quick in distinguis.h.i.+ng the changes in the voices of the birds or animals; she knew the times of their coming and going, and her eye was quick to see as her ear to detect sounds. Her voice was soft, and low, and plaintive, and she delighted in imitating the little ballads or hymns that Catharine sung; though she knew nothing of their meaning, she would catch the tunes, and sing the song with Catharine, touching the hearts of her delighted auditors by the melody and pathos of her voice.
The season called Indian summer had now arrived: the air was soft and mild, almost oppressively warm; the sun looked red as though seen through the smoke clouds of a populous city. A soft blue haze hung on the bosom of the gla.s.sy lake, which reflected on its waveless surface every pa.s.sing shadow, and the gorgeous tints of its changing woods on sh.o.r.e and island. Sometimes the stillness of the air was relieved by a soft sighing wind, which rustled the dying foliage as it swept by.
The Indian summer is the harvest of the Indian tribes. It is during this season that they hunt and shoot the wild fowl that come in their annual flights to visit the waters of the American lakes and rivers; it is then that they gather in their rice, and prepare their winter stores of meat, and fish, and furs. The Indian girl knew the season they would resort to certain hunting grounds. They were constant, and altered not their customs; as it was with their fathers, so it was with them.
Louis had heard so much of the Otonabee river from Indiana, that he was impatient to go and explore the entrance, and the sh.o.r.es of the lake on that side, which hitherto they had not ventured to do for fear of being surprised by the Indians. ”Some fine day,” said Louis, ”we will go out in the canoe, explore the distant islands, and go up the river a little way.”
Hector advised visiting all the islands by turns, beginning at the little islet which looks in the distance like a boat in full sail; it is level with the water, and has only three or four trees upon it. The name they had given to it was ”s.h.i.+p Island.” The Indians have some name for it which I have forgotten; but it means, I have been told, ”Witch Island.” Hector's plan met with general approbation, and they resolved to take provisions with them for several days, and visit the islands and go up the river, pa.s.sing the night under the shelter of the thick trees on the sh.o.r.e wherever they found a pleasant halting-place.
The weather was mild and warm, the lake was as clear and calm as a mirror, and in joyous mood our little party embarked and paddled up the lake, first to s.h.i.+p Island, but this did not detain them many minutes; they then went to Grape Island, which they so named from the abundance of wild vines, now rich with purple cl.u.s.ters of the ripe grapes,--tart, but still not to be despised by our young adventurers; and they brought away a large birch basket heaped up with the fruit. ”Ah, if we had but a good cake of maple sugar, now, to preserve our grapes with, and make such grape jelly as my mother makes!” said Louis.
”If we find out a sugar-bush we will manage to make plenty of sugar,”
said Catharine; ”there are maples not two hundred yards from the shanty, near the side of the steep bank to the east. You remember the pleasant spot which we named the Happy Valley, _[FN: A lovely valley to the east of Mount Ararat, now belonging to a worthy and industrious family of the name of Brown. I wish Hector could see it as it now is,--a cultivated fertile farm.]_ where the bright creek runs, dancing along so merrily, below the pine-ridge?”
”Oh, yes, the same that winds along near the foot of Bare-hill, where the water-cresses grow.”
”Yes, where I gathered the milk-weed the other day.”
”What a beautiful pasture-field that will make, when it is cleared!”
said Hector, thoughtfully.
”Hector is always planning about fields, and clearing great farms,”
said Louis, laughing. ”We shall see Hec a great man one of these days; I think he has in his own mind brushed, and burned, and logged up all the fine flats and table-land on the plains before now, ay, and cropped it all with wheat, and peas, and Indian corn.”
”We will have a clearing and a nice field of corn next year, if we live,” replied Hector; ”that corn that we found in the canoe will be a treasure.”
”Yes, and the corn-cob you got on Bare-hill,” said Catherine. ”How lucky we have been! We shall be so happy when we see our little field of corn flouris.h.i.+ng round the shanty! It was a good thing, Hec, that you went to the Indian camp that day, though both Louis and I were very miserable while you were absent; but you see, G.o.d must have directed you, that the life of this poor girl might be saved, to be a comfort to us. Everything has prospered well with us since she came to us. Perhaps it is because we try to make a Christian of her, and so G.o.d blesses all our endeavours.”
”We are told,” said Hector, ”that there is joy with the angels of G.o.d over one sinner that repenteth; doubtless, it is a joyful thing when the heathen that knew not the name of G.o.d are taught to glorify his holy name.”
Indiana, while exploring, had captured a porcupine; she declared that she should have plenty of quills for edging baskets and moca.s.sins; beside, she said, the meat was white and good to eat. Hector looked with a suspicious eye upon the little animal, doubting the propriety of eating its flesh, though he had learned to eat musk rats, and consider them good meat, baked in Louis's Indian oven, or roasted on a forked stick, before the fire. The Indian porcupine is a small animal, not a very great deal larger than the common British hedgehog; the quills, however, are longer and stronger, and varied with alternate clouded marks of pure white and dark brownish grey; they are minutely barbed, so that if one enters the flesh it is with difficulty extracted, but will work through of itself in an opposite direction, and can then be easily pulled out. Dogs and cattle often suffer great inconvenience from getting their muzzles filled with the quills of the porcupine, the former when worrying the poor little animal, and the latter by accidentally meeting a dead one among the herbage; great inflammation will sometimes attend the extraction. Indians often lose valuable hounds from this cause. Beside porcupines, Indiana told her companions, there were some fine b.u.t.ter-nut trees on the island, and they could collect a bag full in a very short time. This was good news, for the b.u.t.ter-nut is sweet and pleasant, almost equal to the walnut, of which it is a species. The day was pa.s.sed pleasantly enough in collecting nuts and grapes; but as this island did not afford any good cleared spot for pa.s.sing the night, and, moreover, was tenanted by black snakes, several of which made their appearance among the stones near the edge of the water, they agreed by common council to go to Long Island, where Indiana said there was an old log-house, the walls of which were still standing, and where there was dry moss in plenty, which would make them a comfortable bed for the night. This old log-house she said had been built, she heard the Indians say, by a French Canadian trapper, who used to visit the lake some years ago; he was on friendly terms with the chiefs, who allowed him many privileges, and he bought their furs, and took them down the lake, through the river Trent, to some station-house on the great lake. They found they should have time enough to land and deposit their nuts and grapes and paddle to Long Island before sunset.
Upon the western part of this fine island they had several times landed and pa.s.sed some hours, exploring its sh.o.r.es; but Indiana told them, to reach the old log-house they must enter the low swampy bay to the east, at an opening which she called Indian Cove. To do this required some skill in the management of the canoe, which was rather over-loaded for so light a vessel; and the trees grew so close and thick that they had some difficulty in pus.h.i.+ng their way through them without injuring its frail sides. These trees or bushes were chiefly black elder, high-bush cranberries, dogwood, willows, and, as they proceeded further, and there was ground of a more solid nature, cedar, poplar, swamp oak, and soft maple, with silver birch and wild cherries. Long strings of silvery-grey tree-moss hung dangling over their heads, the bark and roots of the birch and cedars were covered with a luxuriant growth of green moss, but there was a dampness and closeness in this place that made it far from wholesome, and the little band of voyagers were not very sorry when the water became too shallow to admit of the canoe making its way through the swampy channel, and they landed on the banks of a small circular pond, as round as a ring, and nearly surrounded by tall trees, h.o.a.ry with moss and lichens; large water-lilies floated on the surface of this miniature lake, and the brilliant red berries of the high-bush cranberry, and the purple cl.u.s.ters of grapes, festooned the trees.
”A famous breeding place this must be for ducks,” observed Louis.
”And for flowers,” said Catharine, ”and for grapes and cranberries.
There is always some beauty or some usefulness to be found, however lonely the spot.”
”A fine place for musk-rats, and minks, and fishes,” said Hector, looking round. ”The old trapper knew what he was about when he made his lodge near this pond. And there, sure enough, is the log-hut, and not so bad a one either,” and scrambling up the bank he entered the deserted little tenement, well pleased to find it in tolerable repair. There were the ashes on the stone hearth, just as it had been left years back by the old trapper; some rough hewn shelves, a rude bedstead of cedar poles still occupied a corner of the little dwelling; heaps of old dry moss and gra.s.s lay upon the ground; and the little squaw pointed with one of her silent laughs to a collection of broken egg-sh.e.l.ls, where some wild duck had sat and hatched her downy brood among the soft materials which she had found and appropriated to her own purpose. The only things pertaining to the former possessor of the log-hut were an old, rusty, battered tin pannikin, now, alas! unfit for holding water; a bit of a broken earthen whisky jar; a rusty nail, which Louis pounced upon, and pocketed, or rather pouched,--for he had subst.i.tuted a fine pouch of deer-skin for his worn-out pocket; and a fis.h.i.+ng-line of good stout cord, which was wound on a splinter of red redar, and carefully stuck between one of the rafters and the roof of the shanty. A rusty but efficient hook was attached to the line, and Louis, who was the finder, was quite overjoyed at his good fortune in making so valuable an addition to his fis.h.i.+ng-tackle. Hector got only an odd worn-out moca.s.sin, which he chucked into the little pond in disdain; while Catharine declared she would keep the old tin pot as a relic, and carefully deposited it in the canoe.
As they made their way into the interior of the island, they found that there were a great many fine sugar maples which had been tapped by some one, as the boys thought, by the old trapper; but Indiana, on examining the incisions in the trees, and the remnants of birch-bark vessels that lay mouldering on the earth below them, declared them to have been the work of her own people; and long and sadly did the young girl look upon these simple memorials of a race of whom she was the last living remnant. The young girl stood there in melancholy mood, a solitary, isolated being, with no kindred tie upon the earth to make life dear to her; a stranger in the land of her fathers, a.s.sociating with those whose ways were not her ways, nor their thoughts her thoughts; whose language was scarcely known to her, whose G.o.d was not the G.o.d of her fathers.