_Hunter._ Blackbird had his bow in his hand, his beautiful head dress of war-eagle plumes on his head, his shield and quiver at his side, and his pipe and medicine bag. His tobacco pouch was filled, to supply him on his journey to the hunting-grounds of his fathers; and he had flint and steel wherewith to light his pipe by the way. Every warrior painted his hand with vermilion, and then pressed it against the white horse, leaving a mark behind him. After the necessary ceremonies had been performed, Blackbird and his white war-horse were covered over with turf, till they were no more seen.

_Austin._ But was the white horse buried alive?

_Hunter._ He was. The turfs were put about his feet, then piled up his legs, then placed against his sides, then over his back, and lastly over Blackbird himself and his war-eagle plumes.

_Brian._ That was a very cruel deed! They had no business to smother that beautiful white horse in that way.

_Basil._ And so I say. It was a great shame, and I do not like that Blackbird.

_Hunter._ Indians have strange customs. Now I am on the subject of prairie scenes, I ought to speak a word of the prairies on the Red River. I had been for some time among the Creeks and Choctaws, crossing, here and there, ridges of wooded lands, and tracts of rich herbage, with blue mountains in the distance, when I came to a prairie scene of a new character. For miles together the ground was covered with vines, bearing endless cl.u.s.ters of large delicious grapes; and then, after crossing a few broad valleys of green turf, our progress was stopped by hundreds of acres of plum trees, bending to the very ground with their fruit. Among these were interspersed patches of rose trees, wild currants, and gooseberries, with p.r.i.c.kly pears, and the most beautiful and sweet-scented wild flowers.

_Austin._ I never heard of so delightful a place. What do you think of the prairies now, Basil? Should you not like to gather some of those fruits and flowers, Brian?

_Hunter._ And then just as I was stretching out my hand to gather some of the delicious produce of that paradise of fruit and flowers, I heard the sound of a rattlesnake, that was preparing to make a spring, and immediately I saw the glistening eyes of a copper-head, which I had disturbed beneath the tendrils and leaves.

_Basil._ What do you think of the prairie now, Austin?

_Brian._ And should you not like to gather some of those fruits and flowers?

_Austin._ I never suspected that there would be such snakes among them.

_Hunter._ The wild creatures of these delightful spots may be said to live in a garden; here they pa.s.s their lives, rarely disturbed by the approach of man. The hunter and the trapper, however thoughtlessly they pursue their calling, are at times struck with the amazing beauty of the scenes that burst upon them. G.o.d is felt to be in the prairie.

The very solitude disposes the mind to acknowledge Him; earth and skies proclaim his presence; the fruits of the ground declare his bounty; and, in the flowers, ten thousand forget-me-nots bring his goodness to remembrance. "Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised; and his greatness is unsearchable."[3]

[Footnote 3: Ps. cxlv. 3.]

_Austin._ I could not have believed that there had been such beautiful places in the prairies.

_Hunter._ Some parts are varied, and others monotonous. Some are beautiful, and others far from being agreeable. The Prairie la Crosse, the Prairie du Chien, and the Couteau des Prairies on the Mississippi, with the prairies on the Missouri, all have some points of attraction.

I did intend to say a little about Swan Lake, the wild rice grounds, Lover's Leap, the salt meadows on the Missouri, the Savannah in the Florida pine woods, and Red Pipe-stone Quarry; but as I intend to give you the history of Nikkanochee, perhaps I had better begin with it at once.

_Austin._ We shall like to hear of Nikkanochee, but it is so pleasant to hear about the prairies, that you must, if you please, tell us a little more about them first.

_Basil._ I want to hear about those prairie dogs.

_Brian._ And I want to hear of Lover's Leap.

_Austin._ What I wish to hear the most, is about Red Pipe-stone quarry. Please to tell us a little about them all.

_Hunter._ Well! If you will be satisfied with a little, I will go on.

Swan Lake is one of the most beautiful objects in the prairies of our country. It extends for many miles; and the islands with which it abounds are richly covered with forest trees. Fancy to yourselves unnumbered islands with fine trees, beautifully grouped together, and cl.u.s.ters of swans on the water in every direction. If you want to play at Robinson Crusoe, one of the islands on Swan Lake will be just the place for you.

_Basil._ Well may it be called Swan Lake.

_Hunter._ The first time that I saw wild rice gathered, it much surprised and amused me. A party of Sioux Indian women were paddling about, near the sh.o.r.es of a large lake, in canoes made of bark. While one woman paddled the canoe, the other gathered the wild rice, which flourished there in great abundance. By bending it over the canoe with one stick, and then striking it with another, the grains of rice fell in profusion into the canoe. In this way they proceeded; till they obtained full cargoes of wild rice for food.

_Brian._ I wish we had wild rice growing in our pond.

_Hunter._ What I have to say of Lover's Leap is a little melancholy.

On the east side of Lake Pepin, on the Mississippi, stands a bold rock, lifting up its aspiring head some six or seven hundred feet above the surface of the lake. Some years since, as the story goes, an Indian chief wished his daughter to take a husband that she did not like. The daughter declined, but the father insisted; and the poor, distracted girl, to get rid of her difficulty, threw herself, in the presence of her tribe, from the top of the rock, and was dashed to pieces.

_Basil._ Poor girl, indeed! Her father was a very cruel man.

_Hunter._ The chief was cruel, and his daughter rash; but we must not be too severe in judging those who have no better standard of right and wrong than the customs of their uncivilized tribe. It was on the Upper Missouri river, towards the mouth of the Teton river, that I came all at once on a salt meadow. You would have thought that it had been snowing for an hour or two, for the salt lay an inch or two thick on the ground.

_Austin._ What could have brought it there?

_Hunter._ The same Almighty hand that spread out the wild prairie, spread the salt upon its surface. There are salt springs in many places, where the salt water overflows the prairie. The hot sun evaporates the water, and the salt is left behind.

_Brian._ Well, that is very curious.

_Hunter._ The buffaloes and other animals come by thousands to lick the salt, so that what with the green prairie around, the white salt, and the black buffaloes, the contrast in colour is very striking.

Though Florida is, to a great extent, a sterile wilderness, yet, for that very reason, some of its beautiful spots appear the more beautiful. There are swamps enough, and alligators enough, to make the traveller in those weary wilds cheerless and disconsolate; but when, after plodding, day after day, through mora.s.ses and interminable pine woods, listening to nothing but the cry of cranes and the howling of wolves, he comes suddenly into an open plain covered with a carpet of gra.s.s and myriads of wild flowers, his eye brightens, and he recovers his cheerfulness and strength. He again feels that G.o.d is in the prairie.

_Basil._ Remember the alligators, Austin!

_Brian._ And the howling wolves! What do you think of them?

_Hunter._ The Red Pipe-stone Quarry is between the Upper Mississippi and the Upper Missouri. It is the place where the Indians of the country procure the red stone with which they make all their pipes.

The place is considered by them to be sacred. They say that the Great Spirit used to stand on the rock, and that the blood of the buffaloes which he ate there ran into the rocks below, and turned them red.

_Austin._ That is the place I want to see.

_Hunter._ If you go there, you must take great care of yourself; for the Sioux will be at your heels. As I said, they hold the place sacred, and consider the approach of a white man a kind of profanation. The place is visited by all the neighbouring tribes for stone with which to make their pipes, whether they are at war or peace; for the Great Spirit, say they, always watches over it, and the war-club and scalping-knife are there harmless. There are hundreds of old inscriptions on the face of the rocks; and the wildest traditions are handed down, from father to son, respecting the place. Some of the Sioux say, that the Great Spirit once sent his runners abroad, to call together all the tribes that were at war, to the Red Pipe-stone Quarry. As he stood on the top of the rocks, he took out a piece of red stone, and made a large pipe; he smoked it over them, and told them, that, though at war, they must always be at peace at that place, for that it belonged to one as much as another, and that they must all make their pipes of the stone. Having thus spoken, a thick cloud of smoke from his great red pipe rolled over them, and in it he vanished away. Just at the moment that he took the last whiff of his great, long, red pipe, the rocks were wrapped in a blaze of fire, so that the surface of them was melted. Two squaws, then, in a flash of fire, sunk under the two medicine rocks, and no one can take away red stone from the place without their leave. Where the gospel is unknown, there is nothing too improbable to be received. The day will, no doubt, arrive, when the wild traditions of Red Pipe-stone Quarry will be done away, and the folly and wickedness of all such superst.i.tions be plainly seen.

Here the hunter, having to attend his sheep, left the three brothers, to amuse themselves for half an hour with the curiosities in his cottage; after which, he returned to redeem his pledge, by relating the history he had promised them.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Indian Pipes.]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER VII.

"And now," said the hunter, "for my account of Nikkanochee.[4] I met with him in Florida, his own country, when he was quite a child; indeed he is even now but a boy, being not more than twelve or thirteen years of age. The Seminole Indians, a mixed tribe, from whom prince Nikkanochee is descended, were a warlike people, settled on the banks of the River Chattahoochee. In a battle which took place between the Indians and a party of whites, under Major Dade, out of a hundred and fourteen white men, only two escaped the tomahawks of their opponents. A Seminole was about to despatch one of these two, when he suddenly called to mind that the soldier had once helped him in fitting a handle to his axe. This arrested his uplifted weapon, and the life of the soldier was spared."

[Footnote 4: This sketch is supposed to be a narrative of facts, though the authority for it is not within the publishers' reach.]

_Austin._ n.o.ble! n.o.ble! If all the Seminoles were like him, they were a n.o.ble people.

_Hunter._ The tribe had good and bad qualities; but I tell you this anecdote, because it affords another proof that the hardy Indian warrior, in the midst of all his relentless animosity against his enemy, is still sensible of a deed of kindness. On another occasion, when the Seminoles, to avenge injuries which their tribe had received, wasted the neighbourhood with fire and tomahawk, they respected the dwelling of one who had shown kindness to some of their tribe. Even though they visited his house, and cooked their food at his hearth, they did no injury to his person or his property. Other dwellings around it were burned to the ground, but for years his habitation remained secure from any attack on the part of the grateful Seminoles.

_Basil._ When I go abroad, I will always behave kindly to the poor Indians.

_Hunter._ The father of Nikkanochee was king of the Red Hills, in the country of the Seminoles; but not being very much distinguished as a warrior, he gave up the command of his fighting men to his brother Oseola, a chief famous for bodily strength and courage. Before the war broke out between the Seminoles, Oseola was kind and generous; but when once the war-cry had rung through the woods, and his tomahawk had been raised, he became stern and implacable. He was the champion of his nation, and the terror of the pale faces opposed to him.