M
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 yc.

 
 THE 
 
 P R A I R IE-B I R D. 
 
 BY THE HON. 
 
 CHARLES AUGUSTUS MURRAY. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 " TRAVELS IN NORTH AMERICA." 
 
 Ferdinand. Most sure the Goddess 
 
 On whom these airs attend 
 
 My prime request 
 
 Which I do last pronounce is, O you wonder, 
 If you be maid or no ? 
 
 Miranda. No wonder, Sir, 
 
 But certainly a maid. 
 Ferdinand. My language, Heavens ! 
 
 Tempest. Act i, 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 1844.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Printed bv S. & J. BENTLBY, WILSON, and FLEY, 
 Bangor House. Shoe Lane.
 
 ?R 
 
 5T/.OJ 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 "I HATE a Preface!" Such will probably be the 
 reader's exclamation on opening this volume. I will, 
 however, pursue the subject a little further in the form 
 of a dialogue. 
 
 Author. " I entirely agree in your dislike of a Pre- 
 face ; for a good book needs none, and a dull book can- 
 not be mended by it." 
 
 Reader. " If then you coincide in my opinion, why 
 write a Preface ? Judging from appearances, your book 
 is long enough without one I " 
 
 A* " Do not be too severe ; it is precisely because 
 the road which we propose to travel together is of con- 
 siderable extent, that I wish to warn you at the outset of 
 the nature of the scenery, and the entertainment you are 
 likely to meet with, in order that you may, if these 
 afford you no attraction, turn aside and seek better 
 amusement and occupation elsewhere." 
 
 R> " That seems plausible enough ; yet, how can I 
 be assured that the result will fulfil your promise ? I 
 once travelled in a stage coach, wherein was suspended, 
 for the benefit of passengers, a coloured print of the 
 watering-place which was our destination ; it represented 
 a magnificent hotel, with extensive gardens and shrub- 
 beries, through the shady walks of which, gaily attired 
 parties were promenading on horseback and on Ibot. 
 When we arrived, I found myself at a large, square, un- 
 sightly inn by the sea-side, where neither flower, shrub, 
 nor tree was to be seen; and on inquiry, I was in- 
 formed that the print represented the hotel as the pro- 
 prietor intended it to be ! Suppose I were to meet with 
 a similar disappointment in my journey with you?" 

 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 A. " I can at least offer you this comfort ; that 
 whereas you could not have got out of the stage half way 
 on the road without much inconvenience, you can easily 
 lay down the book whenever you find it becoming tedious ; 
 if you seek for amusement only, you probably will be 
 disappointed, because one of my chief aims has been to 
 afford you correct information respecting the habits, 
 condition, and character of the North American Indians 
 and those bordering on their territory. I have intro- 
 duced also several incidents founded on actual occur- 
 rences ; and some of them, as well as of the characters, 
 are sketched from personal observation." 
 
 R. <f Indeed ! you are then the individual who re- 
 sided with the Pawnees, and published, a few years since, 
 your Travels in North America. I suppose we may ex- 
 pect in these volumes a sort of pot-pourri, composed of 
 all the notes, anecdotes, and observations which you 
 could not conveniently squeeze into your former book?" 
 
 A. (looking rather foolish.} " Although the terms in 
 which you have worded your conjecture are not the 
 most flattering, I own that it is not altogether without 
 foundation ; nevertheless, Gentle Reader " 
 
 R. " Spare your epithets of endearment ; or at least 
 reserve them until I have satisfied myself that I can 
 reply in a similar strain." 
 
 A. " Nay, it is too churlish to censure a harmless 
 courtesy that has been adopted even by the greatest 
 dramatists and novelists from the time of Shakspeare to 
 the present day." 
 
 R. " It may be so ; permit me, however to request, 
 in the words of one of those dramatists to whom you 
 refer, that you will be so obliging as to 
 
 ' Forbear the prologue, 
 And let me know the substance of thy tale ! ' " 
 
 The OrpJtan.
 
 THE 
 
 PRAIRIE-BIRD 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN WHICH THE READER WILL FIND A SKETCH OF A VILLAGE 
 IN THE WEST, AND WILL BE INTRODUCED TO SOME OF THE 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 THERE is, perhaps, no country in the world 
 more favoured, in respect to natural advantages, 
 than the State of Ohio in North America: the 
 soil is of inexhaustible fertility; the climate tem- 
 perate ; the rivers, flowing into Lake Erie to the 
 north, and through the Ohio into the Mississippi 
 to the south-west, are navigable for many hun- 
 dreds of miles, the forests abound with the finest 
 timber, and even the bowels of the earth pay, 
 
 VOL. i. B
 
 2 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 in various kinds of mineral, abundant contribu- 
 tion to the general wealth : the southern fron- 
 tier of the State is bounded by the noble river 
 from which she derives her name, and which 
 obtained from the early French traders and mis- 
 sionaries the well-deserved appellation of " La 
 Belle Riviere." 
 
 Towns and cities are now multiplying upon 
 its banks ; the axe has laid low vast tracts of its 
 forest; the plough has passed over many thou- 
 sand acres of the prairies which it fertilized; 
 and crowds of steamboats, laden with goods, 
 manufactures, and passengers from every part 
 of the world, urge their busy way through its 
 waters. 
 
 Far different was the appearance and con- 
 dition of that region at the period when the 
 events detailed in the following narrative oc- 
 curred. The reader must bear in mind that, 
 at the close of the last century, the vast tracts 
 of forest and prairie now forming the States of 
 Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, were all included in 
 what was then called the North-west Territory : 
 it was still inhabited by numerous bands of In-
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 3 
 
 dian tribes, of which the most powerful were the 
 Lenape or Delawares, the Shawanons, the Mi- 
 amies, and the Wyandotes or Hurons. 
 
 Here and there, at favourable positions on 
 the navigable rivers, were trading ports, de- 
 fended by small forts, to which the Indians 
 brought their skins of bear, deer, bison, and 
 beaver; receiving in exchange, powder, rifles, 
 paint, hatchets, knives, blankets, and other ar- 
 ticles, which, although unknown to their fore- 
 fathers, had become to them, through their in- 
 tercourse with the whites, numbered among the 
 necessaries of life. But the above-mentioned 
 animals, especially the two last, were already 
 scarce in this region ; and the more enterprising 
 of the hunters, Indian as well as white men, 
 made annual excursions to the wild and bound- 
 less hunting-ground, westward of the Mississippi. 
 
 At the close of the eighteenth century, the 
 villages and settlements on the north bank of 
 the Ohio, being scarce and far apart, were built 
 rather for the purpose of trading with the In- 
 dians than for agriculture or civilized industry ; 
 and their inhabitants were as bold and hardy, 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 sometimes as wild and lawless, as the red men, 
 with whom they were beginning to dispute the 
 soil. 
 
 Numerous quarrels arose between these west- 
 ern settlers and their Indian neighbours; blood 
 was frequently shed, and fierce retaliation en- 
 sued, which ended in open hostility. The half- 
 disciplined militia, aided sometimes by regular 
 troops, invaded and burnt the Indian villages ; 
 while the red men, seldom able to cope with 
 their enemy in the open field, cut off detached 
 parties, massacred unprotected families, and so 
 swift and indiscriminate was their revenge, that 
 settlements, at some distance from the scene 
 of war, were often aroused at midnight by the 
 unexpected alarm of the war-whoop and the fire- 
 brand. There were occasions, however, when 
 the Indians boldly attacked and defeated the 
 troops sent against them; but General Wayne, 
 having taken the command of the western forces, 
 (about four years before the commencement of 
 our tale,) routed them at the battle of the 
 Miamies, with great slaughter; after which many 
 of them went off to the Missain plains, and
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 5 
 
 those who remained, no more ventured to ap- 
 pear in the field against the United States. 
 
 One of the earliest trading ports established 
 in that region was Marietta, a pretty village 
 situated at the mouth of the Muskimgum river, 
 where it falls into the Ohio. Even so far back 
 as the year 1799 it boasted a church, several 
 taverns, a strong block-house, serving as a pro- 
 tection against an attack from the Indians; 
 stores for the sale of grocery; and, in short, 
 such a collection of buildings as has, in more 
 than one instance in the western states of Ame- 
 rica, grown into a city with unexampled rapidity. 
 
 This busy and flourishing village had taken 
 the lead, of all others within a hundred miles, 
 in the construction of vessels for the navigation 
 of the Ohio and Mississippi; nay, some of the 
 more enterprising merchants there settled, had 
 actually built, launched, and freighted brigs and 
 schooners of sufficient burthen to brave the seas 
 in the Mexican gulf; and had opened, in their 
 little inland port, a direct trade with the West 
 Indian islands, to which they exported flour, 
 pork, maize, and other articles, their vessels
 
 6 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 returning laden with fruit, coffee, sugar, and 
 rum. 
 
 The largest store in the village, situated in 
 the centre of a row of houses fronting the river, 
 was built of brick, and divided into several 
 compartments, wherein were to be found all 
 the necessaries of life, all such at least as were 
 called for by the inhabitants of Marietta and 
 its neighbourhood ; one of these compartments 
 was crowded with skins and furs from the 
 North West, and with clothes, cottons, and 
 woollen stuffs, from England; the second with 
 earthenware, cutlery, mirrors, rifles, stoves, 
 grates, &c. ; while in the third, which was cer- 
 tainly the most frequented, were sold flour, 
 tea, sugar, rum, whiskey, gunpowder, spices, 
 cured pork, &c. ; in a deep corner or recess 
 of the latter was a trap-door, not very often 
 opened, but which led to a cellar, wherein was 
 stored a reasonable quantity of Madeira and 
 claret, the quality of which would not have 
 disgraced the best hotel in Philadelphia. 
 
 Over this multifarious property on sale, pre- 
 sided David Muir, a bony, long-armed man of
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 7 
 
 about forty-five years of age, whose red, bristly 
 hair, prominent cheek bones, and sharp, sunken 
 grey eyes, would, without the confirming evi- 
 dence of his broad Scottish accent, have indi- 
 cated to an experienced observer the country 
 to which he owed his birth. In the duties of 
 his employment, David was well seconded by 
 his helpmate, a tall, powerful woman, whose 
 features, though strong and masculine, retained 
 the marks of early beauty, and whose voice, 
 when raised in wrath, reached the ears of every 
 individual, even in the furthest compartment of 
 the extensive store above described. 
 
 David was a shrewd, enterprising fellow, trust- 
 worthy in matters of business, and peaceable 
 enough in temper; though in more than one 
 affray, which had arisen in consequence of some 
 of his customers, whitemen and Indians, having 
 taken on the spot too much of his "fire-water," 
 he had shown that he was not to be affronted 
 with impunity ; nevertheless, in the presence of 
 Mrs. Christie (so was his spouse called) he- was 
 gentle and subdued, never attempting to rebel 
 against an authority which an experience of
 
 8 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 twenty years had proved to be irresistible ; one 
 only child, aged now about eighteen, was the 
 fruit of their marriage; and Jessie Muir was 
 certainly more pleasing in her manners and in 
 her appearance than might have been expected 
 from her parentage ; she assisted her mother in 
 cooking, baking, and other domestic duties, and, 
 when not thus engaged, read or worked in a 
 corner of the cotton and silk compartment over 
 which she presided : two lads, engaged at a 
 salary of four dollars a-week, to assist in the 
 sale, care, and package of the goods, completed 
 David's establishment, which was perhaps the 
 largest and the best provided that could be 
 found westward of the Alleghany mountains. 
 
 It must not be supposed, however, that all 
 this property was his own : it belonged for the 
 most part to Colonel Brandon, a gentleman 
 who resided on his farm, seven or eight miles 
 from the village, and who entrusted David 
 Muir with the entire charge of the stores in 
 Marietta; the accounts of the business were 
 regularly audited by the colonel once every 
 year, and a fair share of the profits as regu-
 
 THE PEAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 larly made over to David, whose accuracy and 
 integrity had given much satisfaction to his 
 principal. 
 
 Three of the largest trading vessels from the 
 port of Marietta were owned and freighted by 
 Colonel Brandon ; the command and manage- 
 ment of them being entrusted by him to Ed- 
 ward Ethelston, a young man who, being now 
 in his twenty-eighth year, discharged the duties 
 of captain and supercargo with the greatest 
 steadiness, ability, and success. 
 
 As young Ethelston and his family will occu- 
 py a considerable place in our narrative, it may 
 be as well to detail briefly the circumstances 
 which led to his enjoying so large a share of 
 the colonel's affection and confidence. 
 
 About eleven years before the date men- 
 tioned as being that of the commencement of 
 our tale, Colonel Brandon, having sold his pro- 
 perty in Virginia, had moved to the Northwest 
 Territory, with his wife and his two children, 
 Reginald and Lucy ; he had persuaded, at the 
 same time, a Virginian friend, Digby Ethelston, 
 who, like himself, was descended from an an- 
 
 B5
 
 10 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 cient royalist family in the mother country, to 
 accompany him in this migration ; the feelings, 
 associations, and prejudices of both the friends 
 had been frequently wounded during the war 
 which terminated in the independence of the 
 United States ; for not only were both attached 
 by those feelings and associations to the old 
 country, but they had also near connexions 
 resident there, with whom they kept up a 
 friendly intercourse. 
 
 It was not, therefore, difficult for Colonel 
 Brandon to persuade his friend to join him in 
 his proposed emigration ; the latter who was a 
 widower, and who, like the Colonel, had only 
 two children, was fortunate in having under 
 his roof a sister, who being now past the prime 
 of life, devoted herself entirely to the charge 
 of her brother's household. Aunt Mary (for 
 she was known by no other name) expressed 
 neither aversion nor alarm at the prospect of 
 settling permanently in so remote a region ; 
 and the two families moved accordingly, with 
 goods and chattels, to the banks of the Ohio. 
 
 The colonel and his friend were both pos-
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 11 
 
 sessed of considerable property, a portion of 
 which they invested in the fur companies, 
 which at that time carried on extensive traffic 
 in the northwest territory; they also acquired 
 from the United States government large tracts 
 of land at no great distance from Marietta, 
 upon which each selected an agreeable site 
 for his farm or country-residence. 
 
 Their houses were not far apart, and though 
 rudely built at first, they gradually assumed 
 a more comfortable appearance ; wings were 
 added, stables enlarged, the gardens and peach- 
 orchards were well fenced, and the adjoining 
 farm -offices amply stocked with horses and 
 cattle. 
 
 For two years all went on prosperously ; the 
 boys, Edward Ethelston and Reginald Bran- 
 don, were as fond of each other as their fathers 
 could desire ; the former, being three years the 
 senior, and possessed of excellent qualities of 
 head and heart, controlled the ardent and some- 
 what romantic temper of Reginald; both were 
 at school near Philadelphia; when on a beau- 
 tiful day in June, Mr. Ethelston and Aunt
 
 12 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 Mary walked over to pay a visit to Mrs. 
 Brandon, leaving little Evelyn (who was then 
 about eight years old) with her nurse at home ; 
 they remained at Colonel Brandon's to dine, 
 and were on the point of returning in the after- 
 noon, when a farm-servant of Mr. Ethelston's 
 rushed into the room where the two gentlemen 
 were sitting alone; he was pale, breathless, and 
 so agitated that he could not utter a syllable: 
 " For heaven's sake, speak ! What has hap- 
 pened ? " exclaimed Colonel Brandon. 
 
 A dreadful pause ensued ; at length, he 
 rather gasped than said, " The Indians ! " and 
 buried his face in his hands, as if to shut out 
 some horrid spectacle ! 
 
 Poor Ethelston's tongue clove to his mouth ; 
 the prescient agony of a father overcame him. 
 
 " What of the Indians, man?" said Colonel 
 Brandon; angrily, "'sblood, we have seen In- 
 dians enough hereabout before now ; what the 
 devil have they been at ? " 
 
 A groan and a shudder was the only reply. 
 
 The colonel now lost all patience, and ex-
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 13 
 
 claimed, " By heavens, the sight of a red-skin 
 seems to have frightened the fellow out of his 
 senses ! I did not know, Ethelston, that you 
 trusted your farm-stock to such a chicken- 
 heart as this ! " 
 
 Incensed by this taunt, the rough lad replied, 
 " Colonel ! for all as you be so bold, and have 
 seen, as they say, a bloody field or two, you'd 
 a' been skeared if you 'd a' seen this job ; but 
 as for my being afeared of Ingians in an up and 
 down fight, or in a tree-skrimmage I don't 
 care who says it faint a fact." 
 
 " I believe it, my good fellow," said the 
 Colonel ; " but keep us no longer in suspense 
 say, what has happened?" 
 
 " Why, you see, Colonel, about an hour ago, 
 Jem and Eliab was at work in the 'baccy-field 
 behind the house, and nurse was out in the 
 big meadow a walkin with Miss Evelyn, when 
 I heard a cry as if all the devils had broke 
 loose ; in a moment, six or eight painted In- 
 gians with rifles and tomahawks dashed out of 
 the laurel thicket, and murdered poor Jem and
 
 14 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 Eliab before they could get at their rifles which 
 stood by the worm fence ;* two of them then 
 went after the nurse and child in the meadow, 
 while the rest broke into the house, which they 
 ransacked and set 'o fire !" 
 
 " But my child ?" cried the agonized father. 
 
 " I fear it's gone too," said the messenger of 
 this dreadful news. " I saw one devil kill and 
 scalp the nurse, ond t'other," here he paused, 
 awe-struck by the speechless agony of poor 
 Ethelston, who stood with clasped hands and 
 bloodless lips, unable to ask for the few more 
 words which were to complete his despair. 
 
 " Speak on, man, let us know the worst ; " 
 said the Colonel, at the same time supporting 
 the trembling form of his unhappy friend. 
 
 " I seed the tomahawk raised over the sweet 
 child, and I tried to rush out o' my hidin' place 
 to save it, when the flames and the smoke 
 broke out, and I tumbled into the big ditch 
 
 * It may be necessary to inform some of our English 
 readers, that a worm fence is a coarse, zigzag railing, com- 
 mon in the new settlements of America, where timber is 
 plentiful.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 15 
 
 below the garden, over head in water ; by the 
 time I got out and reached the place, the red 
 devils were all gone, and the house, and straw, 
 and barns all in a blaze !" 
 
 Poor Ethelston had only heard the first few 
 words they were enough his head sunk upon 
 his breast, his whole frame shuddered convul- 
 sively; and a rapid succession of inarticulate 
 sounds came from his lips, among which no- 
 thing could be distinguished beyond "child," 
 " tomahawk," " Evelyn." 
 
 It is needless to relate in detail all that fol- 
 lowed this painful scene ; the bodies of the 
 unfortunate labourers and of the nurse were 
 found; all had been scalped; that of the child 
 was not found; and though Colonel Brandon 
 himself led a band of the most experienced 
 hunters in pursuit, the trail of the savages 
 could not be followed; with their usual wily 
 foresight they had struck off through the forest 
 in different directions, and succeeded in baf- 
 fling all attempts at discovering either their 
 route or their tribe ; messengers were sent tor 
 the trading posts at Kaskaskia, Vincennes, and
 
 16 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 even to Genevieve, and St. Louis, and all re- 
 turned dispirited by a laborious and fruitless 
 search. 
 
 Mr. Ethelston never recovered this calami- 
 tous blow ; several fits of paralysis, following 
 each other in rapid succession, carried him off 
 within a few months. By his will he appointed 
 a liberal annuity to Aunt Mary, and left the re- 
 mainder of his property to his son Edward, but 
 entirely under the control and guardianship of 
 Colonel Brandon. 
 
 The latter had prevailed upon Aunt Mary 
 and her young nephew to become inmates of his 
 house; where, after the soothing effect of time 
 had softened the bitterness of their grief, they 
 found the comforts, the occupations, the en- 
 dearments, the social blessings embodied in the 
 word " home." Edward became more fondly 
 attached than ever to his younger companion, 
 Reginald ; and Aunt Mary, besides aiding Mrs. 
 Brandon in the education of her daughter, 
 found time to knit, to hem, to cook, to draw, 
 to plant vegetables, to rear flowers, to read, to 
 give medicine to any sick in the neighbour-
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 17 
 
 hood, and to comfort all who, like herself, had 
 suffered under the chastising hand of Provi- 
 dence. 
 
 Such were the circumstances which (eleven 
 years before the commencement of this narra- 
 tive) had led to the affectionate and paternal 
 interest which the Colonel felt for the son of 
 his friend, and which was increased by the high 
 and estimable qualities gradually developed in 
 Edward's character. Before proceeding further 
 in our tale, it is necessary to give the reader 
 some insight into the early history of Colonel 
 Brandon himself, and into those occurrences in 
 the life of his son Reginald, which throw light 
 upon the events hereafter to be related.
 
 18 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF THE MARRIAGE OF COLONEL 
 BRANDON AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 GEORGE BRANDON was the only son of a 
 younger brother, a scion of an ancient and 
 distinguished family: they had been, for the 
 most part, staunch Jacobites, and George's 
 father lost the greater part of his property in 
 a fruitless endeavour to support the ill-timed and 
 ill-conducted expedition of Charles Edward, in 
 1745. 
 
 After this he retired to the Continent and 
 died, leaving to his son little else besides his 
 sword, a few hundred crowns, and an untar- 
 nished name. The young man returned to 
 England; and, being agreeable, accomplished, 
 and strikingly handsome, was kindly received 
 by some of his relations and their friends.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 19 
 
 During one of the visits that he paid at the 
 house of a neighbour in the country, he fell 
 desperately in love with Lucy Shirley, the 
 daughter of the richest squire in the country, 
 a determined Whig, and one who hated a Jaco- 
 bite worse than a Frenchman. As George 
 Brandon's passion was returned with equal ar- 
 dour, and the object of it was young and in- 
 experienced as himself, all the obstacles op- 
 posed to their union only served to add fuel 
 to the flame; and, after repeated but vain en- 
 deavours on the part of Lucy Shirley to re- 
 concile her father, or her only brother, to the 
 match, she eloped with her young lover; and, 
 by a rapid escape into Scotland, where they 
 were immediately married, they rendered abor- 
 tive all attempt at pursuit. 
 
 It was not long before the young couple be- 
 gan to feel some of the painful consequences of 
 their imprudence. The old squire was not to 
 be appeased; he would neither see his daugh- 
 ter, nor would he open one of the many letters 
 which she wrote to entreat his forgiveness: 
 but, although incensed, he was a proud man
 
 20 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 and scrupulously just in all his dealings : Lucy 
 had been left 10,OOOZ. by her grand-mother, but 
 it was not due to her until she attained her 
 twenty-first year, or married with her father's 
 consent. The squire waved both these condi- 
 tions; he knew that his daughter had fallen 
 from a brilliant sphere to one comparatively 
 humble. Even in the midst of his wrath he 
 did not wish her to starve, and accordingly in- 
 structed his lawyer to write to Mrs. Brandon, 
 and to inform her that he had orders to pay her 
 500/. a-year, until she thought fit to demand the 
 payment of the principal. 
 
 George and his wife returned, after a brief 
 absence, to England, and made frequent efforts 
 to overcome by entreaty and submission the 
 old squire's obduracy; but it was all in vain; 
 neither were they more successful in propitia- 
 ting the young squire, an eccentric youth, who 
 lived among dogs and horses, and who had im- 
 bibed from his father a hereditary taste for 
 old port, and an antipathy to Jacobites. His 
 reply to a letter which George wrote, entreat- 
 ing his good offices in effecting a reconciliation
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 21 
 
 between Lucy and her father, will serve better 
 than an elaborate description to illustrate his 
 character ; it ran as follows : 
 
 SIR, 
 
 When my sister married a Jacobite, against 
 father's consent, she carried her eggs to a fool's 
 market, and she must make the best of her 
 own bargain. Father isn't such a flat as to be 
 gulled with your fine words now; and tho' they 
 say I'm not over forw'rd in my schooling you 
 must put some better bait on your trap before 
 you catch 
 
 MARMADUKE SHIRLEY, Jun. 
 
 It may well be imagined, that after the re- 
 ceipt of this epistle George Brandon did not 
 seek to renew his intercourse with Lucy's bro- 
 ther ; but as she had now presented him with a 
 little boy, he began to meditate seriously on 
 the means which he should adopt to better his 
 fortunes. 
 
 One of his most intimate and esteemed 
 friends, Digby Ethelston, being like himself,
 
 22 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 a portionless member of an ancient family, had 
 gone out early in life to America, and had, by 
 dint of persevering industry, gained a respect- 
 able competence; while in the southern colo- 
 nies he had married the daughter of an old 
 French planter, who had left the marquisate 
 to which he was entitled in his own country, 
 in order to live in peace and quiet among the 
 sugar canes and cotton fields of Louisiana ; 
 Ethelston had received with his wife a consider- 
 able accession of fortune, and they were on the 
 eve of returning across the Atlantic, her hus- 
 band having settled all the affairs which had 
 brought him to England. 
 
 His representations of the New World made 
 a strong impression on the sanguine mind of 
 George Brandon, and he proposed to his wife 
 to emigrate with their little one to America; 
 poor Lucy, cut off from her own family and 
 devoted to her husband, made no difficulty 
 whatever, and it was soon settled that they 
 should accompany the Ethelstons. 
 
 George now called upon Mr. Shirley's so- 
 licitor, a dry, matter-of-fact, parchment man,
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 23 
 
 to inform him of their intention, and of their 
 wish that the principal of Lucy's fortune might 
 be paid up. The lawyer took down a dusty 
 box of black tin, whereon was engraved " Mar- 
 maduke Shirley, Esq., Shirley Hall, No. 7," 
 and after carefully perusing a paper of instruc- 
 tions, he said, " Mrs. Brandon's legacy shall be 
 paid up, sir, on the 1st of July to any party 
 whom she may empower to receive it on her 
 behalf, and to give a legal discharge for the 
 same." 
 
 " And pray, sir," said George, hesitating, "as 
 we are going across the Atlantic, perhaps never 
 to return, do you not think Mr. Shirley would 
 see his daughter once before she sails, to give 
 her his blessing?" 
 
 Again the man of parchment turned his 
 sharp nose towards the paper, and having 
 scanned its contents, he said, " I find nothing, 
 sir, in these instructions on that point ; Good 
 morning, Mr. Brandon James, shew in Sir 
 John Waltham." 
 
 George walked home dispirited, and the 
 punctual solicitor failed not to inform the
 
 24 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 squire immediately of the young couple's in- 
 tended emigration, and the demand for the 
 paying up of the sum due to Lucy. In spite 
 of his long cherished prejudices against George 
 Brandon's Jacobite family, and his anger at the 
 elopement, he was somewhat softened by time, 
 by what he heard of the blameless life led by 
 the young man, and by the respectful conduct 
 that the latter had evinced towards his wife's 
 family; for it had happened on one occasion 
 that some of his young companions had thought 
 fit to speak of the obstinacy and stinginess of 
 the old squire ; this language George had in- 
 stantly and indignantly checked, saying, " My 
 conduct in marrying his daughter against his 
 consent, was unjustifiable ; though he has not 
 forgiven her, he has behaved justly and honour- 
 ably; any word spoken disrespectfully of my 
 wife's father, I shall consider a personal insult 
 to myself." 
 
 This had accidentally reached the ears of the 
 old squire, and, though still too proud and too 
 obstinate to agree to any reconciliation, he said 
 to the solicitor : " Perkins, I will not be recon-
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 25 
 
 ciled to these scapegraces, I will have no inter- 
 course with them, but I will see Lucy before 
 she goes ; she must not see me ; arrange it as 
 you please ; desire her to come to your house to 
 sign the discharge for the , 10,000, in person; 
 you can put me in a cupboard, in the next 
 room, where you will, a glass door will do ; 
 you understand ?" 
 
 Yes, sir. When ?" 
 
 " Oh, the sooner the better ; whenever the 
 papers are ready." 
 
 " It shall be done, sir." And thus the inter- 
 view closed. 
 
 Meantime George made one final effort in a 
 letter which he addressed to the Squire, couched 
 in terms at once manly and respectful ; owning 
 the errors that he had committed, but hoping 
 that forgiveness might precede this long, this 
 last separation. 
 
 This letter was returned to him unopened, 
 and, in order to conceal from Lucy the grief and 
 mortification of his high and wounded spirit, he 
 was obliged to absent himself from home for 
 
 VOL. i. c
 
 26 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 many hours, and when he did return, it was 
 with a clouded brow. 
 
 Certainly the fate of this young couple, 
 though not altogether prosperous, was in one 
 particular a remarkable exception to the usual 
 results of a runaway match ; they were affection- 
 ately and entirely devoted to each other; and 
 Lucy, though she had been once, and only 
 once, a disobedient daughter, was the most 
 loving and obedient of wives. 
 
 The day fixed for her signature arrived. Mr. 
 Perkins had made all his arrangements agree- 
 ably to his wealthy client's instructions; and 
 when, accompanied by her husband, she enter- 
 ed the solicitor's study, she was little conscious 
 that her father was separated from her only by 
 a frail door, which being left ajar, he could see 
 her, and hear every word that she spoke. 
 
 Mr. Perkins, placing the draft of the dis- 
 charge into George Brandon's hand, together 
 with the instrument whereby his wife was put 
 in possession of the =10,000, said to him, 
 " Would it not be better, sir, to send for your 
 solicitor to inspect these papers on behalf of
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 27 
 
 yourself and Mrs. Brandon, before she signs 
 the discharge ? " 
 
 " Allow me to inquire, sir," replied George, 
 " whether Mr. Shirley has perused these pa- 
 pers, and has placed them here for his daugh- 
 ter's signature ?" 
 
 " Assuredly, he has, sir," said the lawyer, 
 "and I have too, on his behalf; you do not 
 imagine, sir, that my client would pay the capi- 
 tal sum without being certain that the dis- 
 charge was regular and sufficient !"" 
 
 " Then I am satisfied, sir, " said George, 
 with something of disdain expressed on his 
 fine countenance. " Mr. Shirley is a man of 
 honour, and a father; whatever he has sent for 
 his daughter's signature will secure her in- 
 terests as effectually as if a dozen solicitors 
 had inspected it." 
 
 At the conclusion of this speech, a sort of 
 indistinct hem proceeded from the ensconced 
 Squire, to cover which Mr. Perkins said, " But, 
 sir, it is not usual to sign papers of this con- 
 sequence without examining them." 
 
 " Lucy, my dear,"" said George, turning with 
 
 c 2
 
 28 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 a smile of affectionate confidence to his wife; 
 " to oblige Mr. Perkins, I will read through 
 these two papers attentively; sit down for a 
 minute, as they are somewhat long;" so say- 
 ing, he applied himself at once to his task. 
 
 Meantime, Lucy, painfully agitated and ex- 
 cited, made several attempts to address Mr. 
 Perkins; but her voice failed her, as soon as 
 she turned her eyes upon that gentleman's rigid 
 countenance ; at length, however, by a despe- 
 rate effort, she succeeded in asking, tremu- 
 lously, " Mr. Perkins, have you seen my father 
 lately ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," said the lawyer, nibbing his 
 pen. 
 
 " Oh ! tell me how he is! Has the gout left 
 him? Can he ride to the farm as he used ?" 
 
 " He is well, madam, very well, I believe." 
 
 " Shall you see him soon again, sir?" 
 
 "Yes, madam, I must show him these pa- 
 pers when signed." 
 
 " Oh ! then, tell him, that his daughter, who 
 never disobeyed him but once, has wept bitterly 
 for her fault; that she will probably never see
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 29 
 
 him again, in this world; that she blesses him 
 in her daily prayers. Oh ! tell him, I charge 
 you as you are a man, tell him, that I could 
 cross the ocean happy ; that I could bear years 
 of sickness, of privation, happy; that I could 
 die happy, if I had but my dear, dearifathers 
 blessing." As she said this, the young wife 
 had unconsciously fallen upon one knee before 
 the man of law, and her tearful eyes were bent 
 upon his countenance in earnest supplication. 
 
 Again an indistinct noise, as of a suppressed 
 groan or sob, was heard from behind the door, 
 and the solicitor wiping his spectacles and 
 turning away his face to conceal an emotion 
 of which he felt rather ashamed, said : "I will 
 tell him all you desire, madam; and if I re- 
 ceive his instructions to make any communi- 
 cation in reply, I will make it faithfully, and 
 without loss of time." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you a thousand times," 
 said Lucy; and resuming her seat, she endea- 
 voured to recover her composure. 
 
 George had by this time run his eye over 
 the papers, and although he had overheard his
 
 30 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 wife's appeal to the solicitor, he would not in- 
 terrupt her, nor throw any obstacle in the way 
 of an object which he knew she had so much 
 at heart. "I am perfectly satisfied, sir," said 
 he ; " you have nothing to do but to provide the 
 witnesses, and Mrs. Brandon will affix her sig- 
 nature." 
 
 Two clerks of Mr. Perkins' were accordingly 
 summoned, and the discharge having been signed 
 in their presence, they retired. Mr. Perkins 
 now drew another paper from the leaves of a 
 book on his table, saying : " Mr. Brandon, the 
 discharge being now signed and attested, I have 
 further instructions from Mr. Shirley to inform 
 you, that although he cannot alter his deter- 
 mination of refusing to see his daughter, or 
 holding any intercourse with yourself, he is 
 desirous that you should not in America find 
 yourself in straitened circumstances; and has 
 accordingly authorised me to place in your 
 hands this draft upon his banker for ^5000." 
 
 " Mr. Perkins," said George, in a tone of 
 mingled sadness and pride; "in the payment 
 of the .10,000, my wife's fortune, Mr. Shir-
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 31 
 
 ley, though acting honourably, has only done 
 justice, and has dealt as he would have dealt 
 with strangers ; had he thought proper to listen 
 to my wife's, or to my own repeated entreaties 
 for forgiveness and reconciliation, I would grate- 
 fully have received from him, as from a father, 
 any favour that he wished to confer on us ; but, 
 sir, as he refuses to see me under his roof, or 
 even to give his affectionate and repentant child 
 a parting blessing, I would rather work for my 
 daily bread than receive at his hands the dona- 
 tion of a guinea." 
 
 As he said this, he tore the draft and scat- 
 tered its shreds on the table before the asto- 
 nished lawyer. Poor Lucy was still in tears, 
 yet one look assured her husband that she felt 
 with him. He added in a gentler tone, "Mr. 
 Perkins accept my acknowledgments for your 
 courtesy;" and offering his army to Lucy, 
 turned to leave the room.
 
 32 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONTAINING SOME FURTHER ACCOUNT OF COLONEL AND MRS. 
 BRANDON, AND OF THE EDUCATION OF THEIR SON RECI- 
 NALD. 
 
 WHILE the scene described in the last chap- 
 ter was passing in the lawyer's study, stormy 
 and severe was the struggle going on in the 
 breast of the listening father; more than once 
 he had been on the point of rushing into the 
 room to fold his child in his arms; but that 
 obstinate pride, which causes in life so many 
 bitter hours of regret, prevented him, and 
 checked the natural impulse of affection: still, 
 as she turned with her husband to leave the 
 room, he unconsciously opened the door, on 
 the lock of which his hand rested, as he en- 
 deavoured to get one last look at a face which 
 he had so long loved and caressed. The door
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 being thus partially opened, a very diminutive 
 and favourite spaniel, that accompanied him 
 wherever he went, escaped through the aper- 
 ture, and, recognizing Lucy, barked and jump- 
 ed upon her in an ecstacy of delight. 
 
 " Heavens !" cried she, " it is it must be 
 Fan !" At another time she would have fondly 
 caressed it, but one only thought now occupied 
 her ; trembling on her husband's arm, she 
 whispered, " George, papa must be here." At 
 that moment her eye caught the partially-open- 
 ed door, which the agitated Squire still held, 
 and, breaking from her husband, she flew as 
 if by instinct into the adjacent room, and fell 
 at her father's feet. 
 
 Poor Mr. Perkins was now grievously dis- 
 concerted, and calling out, " This way, madam, 
 this way ; that is not the right door,"" was about 
 to follow, when George Brandon, laying his 
 hand upon the lawyer's arm, said impressively, 
 
 " Stay, sir ; that room is sacred !" and led 
 him back to his chair. His quick mind had 
 seized in a moment the correctness of Lucy's 
 conjecture, and his good feeling taught him 
 
 cfi
 
 34 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 that no third person, not even he, should in- 
 trude upon the father and the child. 
 
 The old Squire could not make a long re- 
 sistance when the gush of his once-loved Lucy's 
 tears trickled upon his hand, and while her 
 half-choked voice sobbed for his pardon and 
 his blessing ; it was in vain that he summoned 
 all his pride, all his strength, all his anger; 
 Nature would assert her rights ; and in another 
 minute his child's head was on his bosom, and 
 he whispered over her, " I forgive you, Lucy ; 
 may God bless you, as I do !" 
 
 For some time after this was the interview 
 prolonged, and Lucy seemed to be pleading 
 for some boon which she could not obtain ; 
 nevertheless, her tears, her old familiar child- 
 ish caresses, had regained something of their 
 former dominion over the choleric, but warm- 
 hearted Squire ; and in a voice of joy that thrill- 
 ed even through the quiet man of law, she cried, 
 " George ! George, come in !" he leaped from 
 his seat, and in a moment was at the feet of 
 her father. There, as he knelt by Lucy's 
 side, the old Squire put one hand upon the
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 35 
 
 head of each, saying, " My children, all that 
 you have ever done to offend me is forgotten; 
 continue to love and to cherish each other, 
 and may God prosper you with every blessing !" 
 George Brandon's heart was full; he could 
 not speak, but straining his wife affectionately 
 to his bosom, and kissing her father's hand, 
 he withdrew into a corner of the room, and 
 for some minutes remained oppressed by emo- 
 tions too strong to find relief in expressions. 
 
 We need not detail at length the conse- 
 quences of this happy and unexpected recon- 
 ciliation. The check was re-written, was 
 doubled, and was accepted. George still per- 
 severed in his wish to accompany his friend 
 to Virginia; where, Ethelston assured him 
 that, with his o?20,000. prudently managed, 
 he might easily acquire a sufficient fortune for 
 himself and his family. 
 
 How mighty is the power of circumstance ; 
 and upon what small pivots does Providence 
 sometimes allow the wheels of human fortune 
 to be turned ! Here, in the instance just re- 
 lated, the blessing or unappeased wrath of a
 
 36 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 father, the joy or despair of a daughter, the 
 peace or discord of a family, all, all were de- 
 pendent upon the bark and caress of a spaniel ! 
 For that stern old man had made his deter- 
 mination, and would have adhered to it, if 
 Lucy had not thus been made aware of his 
 presence, and by her grief aiding the voice of 
 Nature, overthrown all the defences of his 
 pride. 
 
 It happened that the young Squire was at 
 this time in Paris, his father having sent him 
 thither to see the world and learn to fence; 
 a letter was, however, written by Lucy, an- 
 nouncing- to him the happy reconciliation, and 
 entreating him to participate in their common 
 happiness. 
 
 The arrangements for the voyage were soon 
 completed ; the cabin of a large vessel being 
 engaged to convey the whole party to Norfolk 
 in Virginia. The old Squire offered no op- 
 position, considering that George Brandon was 
 too old to begin a profession in England, and 
 that he might employ his time and abilities 
 advantageously in the New World.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 37 
 
 We may pass over many of the ensuing years, 
 the events of which have little influence on our 
 narrative, merely informing the reader that the 
 investment of Brandon's money, made by the 
 advice of Ethelston, was prosperous in the ex- 
 treme. In the course of a year or two, Mrs. 
 Brandon presented her lord with a little girl, 
 who was named after herself. In the following 
 year, Mrs. Ethelston had also a daughter : the 
 third confinement was not so fortunate, and she 
 died in childbed, leaving to Ethelston, Ed- 
 ward, then about nine, and little Evelyn a 
 twelvemonth old. 
 
 It was on this sad occasion that he persuaded 
 his sister to come out from England to reside 
 with him, and take care of his motherless 
 children : a task that she undertook and ful- 
 filled with the love and devotion of the most 
 affectionate mother. 
 
 In course of time the war broke out which 
 ended in the independence of the Colonies. 
 During its commencement, Brandon and Ethel- 
 ston both remained firm to the Crown ; but as 
 it advanced, they became gradually convinced
 
 38 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 of the impolicy and injustice of the claims 
 urged by England ; Brandon having sought an 
 interview with Washington, the arguments, and 
 the character, of that great man decided him ; 
 he joined the Independent party, obtained a 
 command, and distinguished himself so much 
 as to obtain the esteem and regard of his com- 
 mander. As soon as peace was established 
 he had, for reasons before stated, determined 
 to change his residence, and persuaded Ethel- 
 ston to accompany him with his family. 
 
 After the dreadful domestic calamity men- 
 tioned in the first chapter, and the untimely 
 death of Ethelston, Colonel Brandon sent Ed- 
 ward, the son of his deceased friend, to a dis- 
 tant relative in Hamburgh, desiring that every 
 care might be given to give him a complete 
 mercantile and liberal education, including two 
 years' study at a German university. 
 
 Meanwhile the old Squire Brandon was 
 dead ; but his son and successor had written, 
 after his own strange fashion, a letter to his 
 sister, begging her to send over her boy to 
 England, and he would " make a man of him."
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 39 
 
 After duly weighing this proposal, Colonel and 
 Mrs Brandon determined to avail themselves of 
 it; and Reginald was accordingly sent over to 
 his uncle, who had promised to enter him im- 
 mediately at Oxford. 
 
 When Reginald arrived, Marmaduke Shirley- 
 turned him round half a dozen times, felt his 
 arms, punched his ribs, looked at his ruddy 
 cheeks and brown hair, that had never known a 
 barber, and exclaimed to a brother sportsman 
 who was standing by, " D d if he ain't one of 
 the right sort! eh, Harry?" But if the uncle 
 was pleased with the lad's appearance, much 
 more delighted was he with his accomplish- 
 ments : for he could walk down any keeper on 
 the estate, he sat on a horse like a young 
 centaur, and his accuracy with a rifle perfectly 
 confounded the Squire. " If this isn't a chip 
 of the old block, my name isn't Marmaduke 
 Shirley," said he; and for a moment a shade 
 crossed his usually careless brow, as he remem- 
 bered that he had wooed, and married, and 
 been left a childless widower. 
 
 But although at Shirley Hall Reginald fol-
 
 40 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 lowed the sports of the field with the ardour 
 natural to his age and character, he rather an- 
 'noyed the Squire by his obstinate and perse- 
 vering attention to his studies at College; he 
 remembered that walking and shooting were 
 accomplishments which he might have acquired 
 and perfected in the woods of Virginia ; but he 
 felt it due to his parents, and to the confidence 
 which they had reposed in his discretion, to 
 carry back with him some more useful know- 
 ledge and learning. 
 
 With this dutiful motive, he commenced his 
 studies; and as he advanced in them, his natu- 
 rally quick intellect seized on and appreciated 
 the beauties presented to it ; authors, in whose 
 writings he had imagined and expected little 
 else but difficulties, soon became easy and fami- 
 liar; and what he had imposed upon himself 
 from a high principle as a task, proved, ere 
 long, a source of abundant pleasure. 
 
 In the vacations he visited his good-hu- 
 moured uncle, who never failed to rally him as 
 a " Latin-monger" and a book-worm; but Re- 
 ginald bore the jokes with temper not less
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 41 
 
 merry than his uncle's ; and whenever, after a 
 hard run, he had " pounded" the Squire or the 
 huntsman, he never failed -to retaliate by an- 
 swering the compliments paid him on his riding 
 with some such jest as " Pretty well for a book- 
 worm, uncle." It soon became evident to all 
 the tenants, servants, and indeed to the whole 
 neighbourhood, that Reginald exercised a de- 
 spotic influence over the Squire, who respected 
 internally those literary attainments in his ne- 
 phew which he affected to ridicule. 
 
 When Reginald had taken his degree, which 
 he did with high honour and credit, he felt an 
 ardent desire to visit his friend and school- 
 fellow, Edward Ethelston, in Germany ; he was 
 also anxious to see something of the Continent, 
 and to study the foreign languages; this wish 
 he expressed without circumlocution to the 
 Squire, who received the communication with 
 undisguised disapprobation : " What the devil 
 can the boy want to go abroad for ? not satisfied 
 with wasting two or three years poking over 
 Greek, Latin, Mathematics, and other infernal 
 ' atics' and ' ologies,' now you must go across
 
 42 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 the Channel, to eat sour- kraut, soup-maigre, 
 and frogs! I won't hear of it, sir;" and in 
 order to keep his wrath warm, the Squire 
 poked the fire violently. 
 
 In spite of this determination Reginald, as 
 usual, carried his point, and in a few weeks was 
 on board a packet bound for Hamburgh, his 
 purse being well filled by the Squire, who told 
 him to see all that could be seen, and " not to 
 let any of those Mounseers top him at any- 
 thing." Reginald was also provided with letters 
 of credit to a much larger amount than he re- 
 quired; but the first hint which he gave of a 
 wish to decline a portion of the Squire's gene- 
 rosity raised such a storm, that our hero was 
 fain to submit.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 43 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CONTAINING SUNDRY ADVENTURES OF REGINALD BRANDON 
 AND HIS FRIEND ETHELSTON ON THE CONTINENT J ALSO 
 SOME FURTHER PROCEEDINGS AT SQUIRE SHIRLEY'S J AND 
 THE RETURN OF REGINALD BRANDON TO HIS HOME. IN 
 THIS CHAPTER THE SPORTING READER WILL FIND AN 
 EXAMPLE OF AN UNMADE RIDER ON A MADE HUNTER. 
 
 REGINALD having joined his attached and 
 faithful friend Ethelston at Hamburgh, the 
 the young men agreed to travel together ; and 
 the intimacy of their early boyhood ripened into 
 a mature friendship, based upon mutual es- 
 teem ; in personal advantages, Reginald was 
 greatly the superior; for although unusually 
 tall and strongly built, such was the perfect 
 symmetry of his proportions, that his height, 
 and the great muscular strength of his chest 
 and limbs, were carried off by the grace with
 
 44 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 which he moved, and by the air of high-breed- 
 ing by which he was distinguished ; his counte- 
 nance was noble and open in expression ; and 
 though there was a fire in his dark eye which 
 betokened passions easily aroused, still there 
 was a frankness on the brow, and a smile 
 around the mouth that told of a nature at once 
 kindly, fearless, and without suspicion. 
 
 Ethelston, who was, be it remembered, three 
 years older than his friend, was of middle 
 stature, but active, and well proportioned ; his 
 hair and eyebrows were of the jettest black, 
 and his countenance thoughtful and grave ; but 
 there was about the full and firm lip an ex- 
 pression of determination not to be mistaken; 
 habits of study and reflection had already writ- 
 ten their trace upon his high and intellectual 
 brow ; so that one who saw him for the first 
 time might imagine him only a severe student; 
 but ere he had seen him an hour in society, he 
 would pronounce him a man of practical and 
 commanding character. The shade of melan- 
 choly, which was almost habitual on his coun- 
 tenance, dated from the death of his father,
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 45 
 
 brought prematurely by sorrow to his grave, 
 and from the loss of his little sister, to whom 
 he had been tenderly attached. The two, 
 friends loved each other with the affection of 
 brothers ; and, after the separation of the last 
 few years, each found in the other newly deve- 
 loped qualities to esteem. 
 
 The state of Europe during the autumn of 
 1795 not being favourable for distant excur- 
 sions, Ethelston contented himself with show- 
 ing his friend all objects worthy of his attention 
 in the north of Germany, and at the same time 
 assisted him in attaining its rich, though diffi- 
 cult language ; by associating much, during the 
 winter, with the students from the Universities, 
 Reginald caught some of their enthusiasm re- 
 specting the defence of their country from the 
 arms of the French republic; he learnt that a 
 large number of Ethelston's acquaintances at 
 Hamburgh had resolved in the spring to join 
 a corps of volunteers from the Hanseatic towns, 
 destined to fight under the banner of the Arch- 
 duke Charles ; to their own surprise, our two 
 friends were carried away by the stream, and
 
 46 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 found themselves enrolled in a small, but active 
 and gallant band of sharp-shooters, ordered to 
 act on the flank of a large body of Austrian 
 infantry. More than once the impetuous cou- 
 rage of Reginald had nearly cost him his life ; 
 and in the action at Amberg, where the Arch- 
 duke defeated General Bernadotte, he received 
 two wounds, such as would have disabled a man 
 of less hardy constitution. It was in vain that 
 Ethelston, whose bravery was tempered by un- 
 ruffled coolness, urged his friend to expose him- 
 self less wantonly ; Reginald always promised it, 
 but in the excitement of the action always for- 
 got the promise. 
 
 After he had recovered from his wounds, his 
 commanding officer, who had noticed his fear- 
 less daring, a quality so valuable in the skir- 
 mishing duty, to which his corps were appoint- 
 ed, sent for him, and offered to promote him. 
 " Sir," said Reginald modestly, " I thank you 
 heartily, but I must decline the honour you pro- 
 pose to me. I am too inexperienced to lead 
 others; my friend and comrade, Ethelston, is 
 three years my senior; in action he is always by
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 47 
 
 my side, sometimes before me; he has more skill 
 or riper judgment ; any promotion that should 
 prefer me before him, would be most painful to 
 me." He bowed and withdrew. On the follow- 
 ing day, the same officer, who had mentioned 
 Reginald's conduct to the Archduke, presented 
 both the friends, from him, with a gold medal 
 of the Emperor ; a distinction the more gratify- 
 ing to Reginald, from his knowledge that he had 
 been secretly the means of bringing his friend's 
 merit into the notice of his commander. 
 
 They served through the remainder of that 
 campaign, when the arms of the contending 
 parties met with alternate success ; towards its 
 close, the Archduke having skilfully effected 
 his object of uniting his forces to the corps 
 d'armee under General Wartenleben, compelled 
 the French to evacuate Franconia, and to re- 
 tire towards Switzerland. 
 
 This retreat was conducted with much skill 
 by General Moreau; several times did the 
 French rear-guard make an obstinate stand 
 against the pursuers, among whom Reginald 
 and his comrades were always the foremost.
 
 48 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 On one occasion, the French army occupied 
 a position so strong that they were not driven 
 from it without heavy loss on both sides; and 
 even after the force of numbers had compelled 
 the main body to retire, there remained a gal- 
 lant band who seemed resolved to conquer or 
 die upon the field ; in vain did the Austrian 
 leaders, in admiration of their devoted valour, 
 call to them to surrender ; without yielding an 
 inch of ground, they fell fighting where they 
 stood. Reginald made the most desperate ef- 
 forts to save their young commander, whose 
 chivalrous appearance and brilliantly decorated 
 uniform made him remarkable from a great 
 distance; several times did he strike aside a 
 barrel pointed at the French officer; but it was 
 too late; and when at length, covered with dust, 
 and sweat, and blood, he reached the spot, he 
 found the young hero whom he had striven to 
 save, stretched on the ground by several moftal 
 wounds in his breast; he saw, however, Regi- 
 nald's kind intention, smiled gratefully upon 
 him, waved his sword over his head, and died. 
 The excitement of the battle was over, and
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 49 
 
 leaning on his sword, Reginald still bent over 
 the noble form and marble features of the 
 young warrior at his feet, and he sighed deep- 
 ly when he thought how suddenly had this 
 flower of manly beauty been cut down. " Per- 
 haps," said he, half aloud, " some now childless 
 mother yet waits for this last prop of her age 
 and name; or some betrothed lingers at her 
 window, and wonders why he so long delays." 
 
 Ethelston was at his side, his eyes also bent 
 sadly upon the same object; the young friends 
 interchanged a warm and silent grasp of the 
 hand, each feeling that he read the heart of 
 the other ! At this moment, a groan escaped 
 from a wounded man, who was half buried 
 under the bleeding bodies of his comrades; 
 with some difficulty Reginald dragged him out 
 from below them, and the poor fellow thanked 
 him for his humanity ; he had only received a 
 slight wound on the head from a spent ball, 
 which had stunned him for the time; but he 
 soon recovered from its effects, and looking 
 around, he saw the body of the young com- 
 mander stretched on the plain. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 *' Ah, mon pauvre General ! " he exclaimed : 
 and on further inquiry, Reginald learnt that 
 it was indeed the gallant, the admired, the 
 beloved General Ma^eau, whose brilliant ca- 
 reer was thus untimely closed. 
 
 " I will go," whispered Ethelston, " and 
 bear this tidings to the Archduke ; meantime, 
 Reginald, guard the honoured remains from 
 the camp-spoiler and the plunderer." So say- 
 ing he withdrew; and Reginald, stooping over 
 the prostrate form before him, stretched it de- 
 cently, closed the eyes, and throwing a mantle 
 over the splendid uniform, sat down to indulge 
 in the serious meditations inspired by the 
 scene. 
 
 He was soon aroused from them by the poor 
 fellow whom he had dragged forth, who said 
 to him, " Sir, I yield myself your prisoner. 1 " 
 
 " And who are you, my friend ? " 
 
 " I was courier, valet, and cook to M. de 
 Vareuil, aide-de-camp to the General Mar- 
 9eau ; both lie dead together before you." 
 
 " And what is your name, my good fellow?"" 
 
 " Gustave Adolphe Montmorenci Ferret."
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 51 
 
 " A fair string of names, indeed," said Re- 
 ginald, smiling. " But pray, Monsieur Perrot, 
 how came you here ? are you a soldier as well 
 as a courier ?" 
 
 " Monsieur does me too much honour," said 
 the other, shrugging his shoulders. " I only 
 came from the baggage-train with a message 
 to my master, and your avant-garde peppered 
 us so hotly that I could not get back again. 
 I am not fond of fighting ; but somehow, when 
 I saw poor Monsieur de Vareuil in so sad a 
 plight, I did not wish to leave him." 
 
 Reginald looked at the speaker, and thought 
 he had never seen in one face such a eom- 
 pound of slyness and honesty, drollery and 
 sadness. He did not, however, reply, and re- 
 lapsed into his meditation. Before five minutes 
 had passed, Monsieur Perrot, as if struck by 
 a sudden idea, fell on his knees before Regi- 
 nald, and said, 
 
 " Monsieur has saved my life will he grant 
 me yet one favour ? '' 
 
 " If within my power," said Reginald, good- 
 humouredly. 
 
 D2
 
 52 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 " Will Monsieur take me into his service ? 
 I have travelled over all Europe ; I have lived 
 long in Paris, London, Vienna; I may be of 
 use to Monsieur ; but I have no home now." 
 
 ** Nay, but Monsieur Perrot, I want no 
 servant; I am only a volunteer with the army." 
 
 " I see what Monsieur is, v said Perrot, 
 archly, " in spite of the dust and blood with 
 which he is disfigured. I will ask no salary; 
 I will share your black bread, if you are poor, 
 and will live in your pantry if you are rich : 
 I only want to serve you." 
 
 Monsieur Perrot's importunity overruled all 
 the objections that Reginald could raise ; and 
 he at last consented to the arrangement, pro- 
 vided the former, after due reflection, should 
 adhere to his wish. 
 
 Ethelston meanwhile returned with the party 
 sent by the Archduke to pay the last token 
 of respect to the remains of the youthful 
 General. They were interred with all the 
 military honours due to an officer whose re- 
 putation was, considering his years, second to 
 none in France, save that of Napoleon him- 
 self.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 53 
 
 After the ceremony, Monsieur Perrot, now 
 on parole not to bear arms against Austria, 
 obtained leave to return to the French camp 
 for a week, in order to " arrange his affairs," 
 at the expiration of which he promised to re- 
 join his new master. Ethelston blamed Re- 
 ginald for his thoughtlessness in engaging this 
 untried attendant. The latter, however, laugh- 
 ed at his friend, and said, " Though he is such 
 a droll-looking creature, I think there is good 
 in him; at all events, rest assured I will not 
 trust him far without trial." 
 
 A few weeks after these events, General 
 Moreau having effected his retreat into Swit- 
 zerland, an armistice was concluded on the 
 Rhine between the contending armies ; and 
 Reginald could no longer resist the imperative 
 commands of his Uncle to return to Shirley 
 HalL Monsieur Gustave Adolphe Mont- 
 morenci Perrot had joined his new master, 
 with a valise admirably stocked, and wearing 
 a peruke of a most fashionable cut. Ethelston 
 shrewdly suspected that these had formed part 
 of poor Monsieur de Vareuil's wardrobe, and
 
 54 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 his dislike of Reginald's foppish valet was not 
 thereby diminished. 
 
 On the route to Hamburgh the friends 
 passed through many places where the luxu- 
 ries, and even the necessaries, of life had been 
 rendered scarce by the late campaign. Here, 
 Perrot was in his element ; fatigue seemed to 
 be unknown to him ; he was always ready, 
 active, useful as a courier, and unequalled as 
 a cook and a caterer; so that Ethelston was 
 compelled to confess that if he only proved 
 honest, Reginald had indeed found a treasure. 
 
 At Hamburgh the two friends took an af- 
 fectionate farewell, promising to meet each 
 other in the course of the following year on 
 the banks of the Ohio. Reginald returned 
 to his Uncle, who stormed dreadfully when he 
 learnt that he had brought with him a French 
 valet, and remained implacable in spite of the 
 circumstances under which he had been en- 
 gaged; until one morning, when a footman 
 threw down the tray on which he was carrying 
 up the Squire's breakfast of beeksteaks and 
 stewed kidneys, half an hour before " the
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 55 
 
 meet" at his best cover-side. What could 
 now be done ? The cook was sulky, and sent 
 word that there were no more steaks nor kid- 
 neys to be had. The Squire was wrath and 
 hungry. Reginald laughed, and said, " Uncle, 
 send for Perrot." 
 
 " Perrot be d d !" cried the Squire. " Does 
 the boy think I want some pomatum ? What 
 else could that coxcomb give me ? " 
 
 " May I try him, Uncle ?"" said Reginald, 
 still laughing. 
 
 " You may try him : but if he plays any of 
 his jackanapes pranks, I '11 tan his hide for him, 
 I promise you !" 
 
 Reginald having rung for Perrot, pointed 
 to the remains of the good things which a ser- 
 vant was still gathering up, and said to him, 
 " Send up breakfast for Mr. Shirley and my- 
 self in one quarter of an hour from this mi- 
 nute : you are permitted to use what you find 
 in the larder ; but be punctual." 
 
 Perrot bowed, and, without speaking, dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 " The devil take the fellow ! he has some
 
 56 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 sense," said the angry Squire ; " he can receive 
 an order without talking; one of my hulking 
 knaves would have stood there five minutes 
 out of the fifteen, saying, ' Yes, sir ; 1 11 see 
 what can be done : ' or, 'I '11 ask Mr. Alltripe, 1 
 or some other infernal stuff. Come, Reginald, 
 look at your watch. Let us stroll to the 
 stable^ we '11 be back to a minute ; and if that 
 fellow plays any of his French tricks upon me, 
 I '11 give it him. 1 ' So saying, the jolly Squire 
 cut the head off one of his gardener's favourite 
 plants with his hunting whip, and led the way 
 to the stable. 
 
 We may now return to Monsieur Perrot, 
 and see how he set about the discharge of his 
 sudden commission; but it may be necessary, 
 at the same time, to explain one or two parti- 
 culars not known to his master, or to the 
 Squire. Monsieur Perrot was very gallant, 
 and his tender heart had been smitten by the 
 charms of Mary, the still-room maid; it so 
 happened on this very morning that he had 
 prepared slily, as a surprise, a little " dtjeuner 
 a la fourchette" with which he intended to
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 57 
 
 soften Mary's obduracy. We will not inquire 
 how he had obtained the mushroom, the lemon, 
 and the sundry other good things with which 
 he was busily engaged in dressing a plump 
 hen-pheasant, when he received the above un- 
 expected summons. Monsieur Perrot's vanity 
 was greater than either his gourmand ise or his 
 love; and, without hesitation, he determined to 
 sacrifice to it the hen-pheasant: his first step 
 was to run to the still-room ; and having stolen 
 a kiss from Mary, and received a box on the 
 ear as a reward, he gave her two or three very 
 brief but important hints for the coffee, which 
 was to be made immediately; he then turned 
 his attention to the hen-pheasant, sliced some 
 bacon, cut up a ham, took possession of a 
 whole basket of eggs, and flew about the 
 kitchen with such surprising activity, and call- 
 ing for so many things at once, that Mr. All- 
 tripe left his dominion, and retired to his own 
 room in high dudgeon. 
 
 Meanwhile the Squire, having sauntered 
 through the stables with Reginald, and enlight- 
 ened him with various comments upon the
 
 58 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 points and qualities of his favourite hunters, 
 took out his watch, and exclaimed, " the time 
 is up, my boy ; let us go in and see what your 
 precious Mounseer has got for us." As they 
 entered the library, Monsieur opened the oppo- 
 site door, and announced breakfast as quietly 
 and composedly as if no unusual demand had 
 been made upon his talents. The Squire led 
 the way into the breakfast-room, and was 
 scarcely more surprised than was Reginald 
 himself at the viands that regaled his eye on 
 the table. In addition to the brown and white 
 loaves, the rolls, and other varieties of bread, 
 there smoked on one dish the delicate salmi 
 of pheasant, on another the Squire's favourite 
 dish of bacon, with poached eggs, and on a 
 third, a most tempting Omelette au Jambon." 
 
 Marmaduke Shirley opened his eyes and 
 mouth wide with astonishment, as Monsieur 
 Perrot offered him, one after another, these 
 delicacies, inquiring, with undisturbed gravity, 
 if " Monsieur desired any thing else ? as there 
 were other dishes ready below !" 
 
 " Other dishes ! why, man, here 's a breakfast
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 59 
 
 for a Court of aldermen," said the Squire ; and 
 having ascertained that the things were as 
 agreeable to the taste as to the eye, and that 
 the coffee was more clear and high flavoured 
 than he had ever tasted before, he seized his 
 nephew's hand, saying " Reginald, my boy, I 
 give in ; your Master Perrot 's a trump, and no 
 man shall ever speak a word against him in 
 this house ! A rare fellow ! " here he took an- 
 other turn at the omelette ; " hang me if he 
 shan't have a day's sport;" and the Squire, 
 chuckling at the idea that had suddenly crossed 
 him, rang the bell violently : " Tell Repton,' v 
 said he to the servant who entered, " to saddle 
 * Rattling Bess, 1 for Monsieur Perrot, and to 
 take her to the cover-side with the other 
 horses, at ten." 
 
 " She kicks a bit at starting," added he to 
 Reginald, " but she 's as safe as a mill ; and 
 though she rushes now and then at the fences, 
 she always gets through or over 'em." 
 
 Now it was poor Perrofs turn to be asto- 
 nished: to do him justice, he was neither a 
 bad horseman (as a courier) nor a coward ; but
 
 60 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 he had never been out with hounds, and the 
 enumeration of * Rattling Bess' ' qualities did 
 not sound very attractive to his ear ;' he began 
 gently to make excuses, and to decline the 
 proposed favour : he had not the " proper 
 dress;" "he had much to do for Monsieur's 
 wardrobe at home;" but it was all to no pur- 
 pose, the Squire was determined; Repton's 
 coat and breeches would fit him, and go he 
 must. 
 
 With a rueful look at his master, Perrot 
 slunk off, cursing in his heart the salmi and the 
 omelette, which had procured him this unde- 
 sired favour; but he was ordered to lose no 
 time in preparing himself, so he first endea- 
 voured to get into Mr. Repton's clothes; that 
 proved impossible, as Mr. R. had been a racing 
 jockey, and was a feather-weight, with legs like 
 nut-crackers; having no time for deliberation, 
 
 Monsieur Perrot drew from his valise the cou- 
 i 
 
 rier suit which he had worn in France ; and, to 
 the surprise of the whole party assembled at 
 the door, he appeared clad in a blue coat, 
 turned up with yellow, a cornered hat, and
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 61 
 
 enormous boots, half a foot higher than his 
 knees : he was ordered to jump up behind the 
 Squire's carriage, and away they went to the 
 cover-side, amid the ill-suppressed titter of the 
 grooms and footmen, and the loud laughter of 
 the maids, whose malicious faces, not except- 
 ing that of Mary, were at the open windows 
 below. 
 
 When they reached the place appointed for 
 " the meet," and proceeded to mount the im- 
 patient horses awaiting them, Perrot eyed with 
 no agreeable anticipation the long ears of Rat- 
 tling Bess laid back, and the restless wag of 
 her rat-tail, and he ventured one more attempt 
 at an escape. " Really, sir," said he to the 
 Squire, " I never hunted, and I don't think I 
 can manage that animal; she looks very savage." 
 
 " Never mind her, Monsieur Perrot," said 
 the Squire, enjoying the poor valet's ill-dis- 
 sembled uneasiness. " She knows her business 
 here as well as any whipper-in or huntsman; 
 only let her go her own way, and you '11 never 
 be far from the brush." 
 
 " Very well," muttered Perrot ; " I hope she
 
 62 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 knows her business ; I know mine, and that is 
 to keep on her back, which I '11 do as well as 
 I can." 
 
 The eyes of the whole field were upon this 
 strangely attired figure, and as soon as he got 
 into the saddle, " Rattling Bess " began to kick 
 and plunge violently ; we have said that he 
 was not in some respects a bad horseman, and 
 although in this, her first prank, he lost one 
 of his stirrups, and his cornered hat fell off, 
 he contrived to keep both his seat and his 
 temper; while the hounds were drawing the 
 cover, one of the Squire's grooms restored the 
 hat, and gave him a string wherewith to fasten 
 it, an operation which he had scarcely con- 
 cluded, when the inspiring shouts of " Tally- 
 ho," " Gone away," " Forward," rang on his 
 ears. " Rattling Bess " seemed to understand 
 the sounds as well as ever alderman knew a 
 dinner-bell; and away she went at full gallop, 
 convincing Monsieur Perrot, after an ineffec- 
 tual struggle of a few minutes on his part, that 
 both the speed and direction of her course were
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 63 
 
 matters over which he could not exercise the 
 smallest influence. 
 
 On they flew, over meadow and stile, ditch 
 and hedge, nothing seemed to check Rattling 
 Bess ; and while all the field were in astonished 
 admiration at the reckless riding of the strange 
 courier, that worthy was catching his breath 
 and muttering through his teeth " Diable d'ani- 
 mal, she have a mouth so hard, like one of Mr. 
 Alltripe's bif-steak she know her business 
 and a sacre business it is hola there ! mind 
 yourself ! " shouted he at the top of his voice, 
 to a horseman whose horse had fallen in brush- 
 ing through a thick hedge, and was struggling 
 to rise on the other side just as Rattling Bess 
 followed at tremendous speed over the same 
 place ; lighting upon the hind-quarters of her 
 hapless predecessor, and scraping all the skin 
 off his loins, she knocked the rider head over 
 heels into the ploughed field where his face 
 was buried a foot deep in dirty mould; by a 
 powerful effort she kept herself from falling, 
 and went gallantly over the field; Perrot still
 
 64 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 muttering, as he tugged at the insensible 
 mouth, " She know her business, she kill dat 
 poor devil in the dirt, she kill herself and 
 me too." 
 
 A few minutes later, the hounds, having 
 overrun the scent, came to a check, and were 
 gathered by the huntsman into a green lane, 
 from whence they were about to " try back " 
 as Rattling Bess came up at unabated speed. 
 "Hold hard there, hold hard!" shouted at 
 once the huntsman, the whips, and the few 
 sportsmen who were up with the hounds. 
 " Where the devil are you going, man ? " 
 "The fox is viewed back." "Halloo ! you're 
 riding into the middle of the pack." These 
 and similar cries scarcely had time to reach 
 the ears of Perrot, ere " Rattling Bess " sprang 
 over the hedge into the green lane, and coming 
 down among the unfortunate dogs, split the 
 head of one, broke the back of another, and 
 laming two or -three more, carried her rider 
 over the opposite fence, who still panting for 
 breath, with his teeth set, muttered, " She know 
 her business, sacre animal."
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 65 
 
 After crossing two more fields, she cleared 
 a hedge so thick that he could not see what 
 was on the other side; but he heard a tre- 
 mendous crash, and was only conscious of being 
 hurled with violence to the ground ; slowly re- 
 covering his senses, he saw Rattling Bess ly- 
 ing a few yards from him, bleeding profusely ; 
 and his own ears were saluted by the following 
 compassionate inquiry from the lips of a gar- 
 dener, who was standing over him, spade in 
 hand : " D n your stupid outlandish head, 
 what be you a doin' here?" 
 
 The half-stunned courier, pointing to Ratt- 
 ling Bess, replied : " She know her busi- 
 ness." 
 
 The gardener, though enraged at the entire 
 demolition of his melon-bed, and of sundry 
 forced vegetables under glass, was not an ill- 
 tempered fellow in the main; and seeing that 
 the horse was half killed, and the rider, a 
 foreigner, much bruised, he assisted poor Per- 
 rot to rise, and having gathered from him, that 
 he was in the service of rich Squire Shirley, 
 rendered all the aid in his power to him and
 
 66 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 to Rattling Bess, who had received some very 
 severe cuts from the glass. 
 
 When the events of the day came to be 
 talked over at the Hall, and it proved that it 
 was the Squire himself whom Perrot had so 
 unceremoniously ridden over, that the hunts- 
 man would expect some twenty guineas for 
 the hounds, killed or maimed, that the gar- 
 dener would probably present a similar, or a 
 larger account for a broken melon-bed and 
 shivered glass, and that Rattling Bess was 
 lame for the season, the Squire did not encou- 
 rage much conversation on the day's sport ; the 
 only remark that he was heard to make, being 
 " What a fool I was to put a frog -eating 
 Frenchman on an English hunter!" 
 
 Monsieur Perrot remained in his room for 
 three or four days, not caring that Mary should 
 see his visage while it was adorned with a black 
 eye and an inflamed nose. 
 
 Soon after this eventful chase, Reginald ob- 
 tained his Uncle's leave to obey his father's 
 wishes by visiting Paris for a few months ; his 
 stay there was shortened by a letter which he
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 67 
 
 received from his sister Lucy, announcing to 
 him his mother's illness, on the receipt of which 
 he wrote a few hurried lines of explanation to 
 his Uncle, and sailed by the first ship for Phila- 
 delphia, accompanied by the faithful Perrot, 
 and by a large rough dog of the breed of the 
 old Irish wolf-hound, given to him by the 
 Squire. 
 
 On arriving, he found his mother better than 
 he had expected ; and, as he kissed off the tears 
 of joy which Lucy shed on his return, he whis- 
 pered to her his belief that she had a little 
 exaggerated their mother's illness, in order to 
 recall him. After a short time, Ethelston also 
 returned, and joined the happy circle assembled 
 at Colonel Brandon's. 
 
 It was now the spring of 1797, between 
 which time and that mentioned as the date of 
 our opening chapter, a period of nearly two 
 years, nothing worthy of peculiar record oc- 
 curred ; Reginald kept up a faithful corres- 
 pondence with his kind uncle, whose letters 
 showed how deeply he felt his nephew's ab- 
 sence. Whether Monsieur Perrot interchanged
 
 68 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 letters with Mary, or consoled himself with the 
 damsels on the banks of the Ohio, the follow- 
 ing pages may show. His master made seve- 
 ral hunting excursions, on which he was always 
 accompanied by Baptiste, a sturdy backwoods- 
 man, who was more deeply attached to Regi- 
 nald than to any other being on earth; and 
 Ethelston had, as we have before explained, 
 undertaken the whole charge of his guardian's 
 vessels, with one of the largest of which he was, 
 at the commencement of our tale, absent in the 
 West India Islands.
 
 69 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AN ADVENTURE IN THE WOODS. REGINALD BRANDON MAKES 
 
 THE ACQUAINTANCE OF AN INDIAN CHIEF. 
 
 IT was a bright morning in April; the robin 
 was beginning his early song, the wood-pecker 
 darted his beak against the rough bark, and 
 the squirrel hopped merrily from bough to 
 bough among the gigantic trees of the forest, 
 as two hunters followed a winding path which 
 led to a ferry across the Muskingum river. 
 
 One was a powerful, athletic young man, 
 with a countenance strikingly handsome, and 
 embrowned by exercise and exposure ; his dress 
 was a hunting shirt, and leggings of deer-skin ; 
 his curling brown locks escaped from under a 
 cap of wolf -skin; and his mocassins, firmly 
 secured round the ankle, were made from the 
 tough hide of a bear ; he carried in his hand a
 
 70 THE PRAIRIE -BIRD. 
 
 short rifle of heavy calibre, and an ornamented 
 couteau-de-chasse hung at his belt. His com- 
 panion, lower in stature, but broad, sinewy, 
 and weather-beaten, seemed to be some fifteen 
 or twenty years the elder ; his dress was of the 
 same material, but more soiled and worn; his 
 rifle was longer and heavier; and his whole 
 appearance that of a man to whom all incle- 
 mencies of season were indifferent, all the 
 dangers and hardships of a western hunter's 
 life familiar ; but the most remarkable part 
 of his equipment was an enormous axe, the 
 handle studded with nails, and the head firmly 
 riveted with iron hoops. 
 
 " Well Master Reginald," said the latter ; 
 "we must hope to find old Michael and his 
 ferry-boat at the Passage des Rochers, for the 
 river is much swollen, and we might not easily 
 swim it with dry powder." 
 
 " What reason have you to doubt old Mi- 
 chael's being found at his post ?" said Reginald ; 
 " we have often crossed there, and have seldom 
 found him absent." 
 
 "True, master; but he has of late become
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 71 
 
 very lazy; and he prefers sitting by his fire, 
 and exchanging a bottle of fire-water with a 
 strolling Ingian for half a dozen good skins, 
 to tugging a great flat-bottomed boat across 
 the Muskingum during the March floods." 
 
 " Baptiste," said the young man, " it grieves 
 me to see the reckless avidity with which spirits 
 are sought by the Indians; and the violence, 
 outrage, and misery which is the general con- 
 sequence of their dram-drinking." 
 
 " Why you see, there is something very good 
 in a cup of West Ingy rum;" here Baptiste's 
 hard features were twisted into a grin irresis- 
 tibly comic, and he proceeded, " it warms the 
 stomach and the heart; and the savages, when 
 they once taste it, suck at a bottle by instinct, 
 as natural as a six-weeks cub at his dam : 
 I often wonder, Master Reginald, why you 
 spoil that fine euu de vie which little Perrot 
 puts into your hunting flask, by mixing with 
 it a quantity of water! In my last trip to 
 the mountains, where I was first guide and tur- 
 pret,* they gave me a taste now and then, and 
 
 * Anglice " Interpreter."
 
 72 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 I never found it do me harm ; but the nature of 
 an Ingian is different, you know." 
 
 " Well, Baptiste," said Reginald, smiling at 
 his follower's defence of his favourite beverage ; 
 " I will say, that I never knew you to take 
 more than you could carry; but your head is 
 as strong as your back, and you sometimes 
 prove the strength of both," 
 
 The conversation was suddenly interrupted 
 by the report of Reginald's rifle, and a grey 
 squirrel fell from the top of a hickory, where 
 he was feasting in fancied security. Baptiste 
 took up the little animal, and having examined 
 it attentively, shook his head gravely, saying, 
 " Master Reginald, there is not a quicker eye,' 
 nor a truer hand in the Territory, but " 
 
 As he hesitated to finish the sentence, Regi- 
 nald added laughing, " but but I am an ob- 
 stinate fellow because I will not exchange my 
 favourite German rifle, with its heavy bullet, 
 for a long Virginia barrel, with a ball like a 
 pea ; is it not so, Baptiste r" 
 
 The guide's natural good-humour struggled 
 with prejudices which, on this subject, had been
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 73 
 
 more than once wounded by his young com- 
 panion, as he replied, " Why, Master Reginald, 
 the deer, whose saddle is on my shoulder, found 
 my pea hard enough to swallow, and look here, 
 at this poor little vermint whom you have just 
 killed, there is a hole in his neck big enough 
 to let the life out of a grisly bear ; you have 
 hit him nearly an inch further back than I 
 taught you to aim before you went across the 
 great water, and learnt all kinds of British and 
 German notions ?" 
 
 Reginald smiled at the hunter's characteris- 
 tic reproof, and replied in a tone of kindness, 
 " Well, Baptiste, all that I do know of track- 
 ing a deer, or lining a bee, or of bringing down 
 one of these little vermint, I learnt first from 
 you ; and if I am a promising pupil, the credit 
 is due to Baptiste, the best hunter in forest 
 or prairie !" 
 
 A glow of pleasure passed over the guide's 
 sunburnt countenance ; and grasping in his hard 
 and horny fingers his young master's hand, he 
 said, " Thank'ee, Master Reginald ; and as for 
 me, though I 'm only a poor " Coureur des 
 
 VOL. i. E
 
 74 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 bois,"* I aVt feared to back my pupil against 
 any man that walks, from Dan Boone, of Ken- 
 tucky, to Bloody-hand, the great war-chief of 
 the Cayugas." 
 
 As he spoke, they came in sight of the river, 
 and the blue smoke curling up among the trees, 
 showed our travellers that they had not missed 
 their path to Michael's log-house and ferry. 
 " What have we here ? " exclaimed Baptiste, 
 catching his companion by the arm ; " 'tis even 
 as I told you : the old rogue is smoking his 
 pipe over a glass of brandy in his kitchen cor- 
 ner; and there is a wild-looking Indian pulling 
 himself across with three horses in that crazy 
 batteau, almost as old and useless as its owner !" 
 
 " He will scarcely reach the opposite bank," 
 said Reginald; "the river is muddy and swollen 
 with melted snow, and his horses seem disposed 
 to be unquiet passengers.' 1 
 
 They had now approached near enough to 
 enable them to distinguish the features of the 
 Indian in the boat; the guide scanned them 
 
 * " Coureur des bois," an appellation often given to the 
 Canadian and half-breed woodsmen.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 75 
 
 with evident surprise and interest, the result 
 of which was, a noise which broke from him, 
 something between a grunt and a whistle, as 
 he muttered, " What can have brought him 
 here?" 
 
 " Do you know that fine-looking fellow, 
 then ? " inquired Reginald. 
 
 " Know him, Master Reginald! does 'Wolf 
 know Miss Lucy ? does a bear know a bee- 
 tree ? I should know him among a thousand 
 Red-skins, though he were twice as well dis- 
 guised. Tete-bleu, master, look at those wild 
 brutes how they struggle; he and they will 
 taste Muskingum water before long.'' 1 
 
 While he was speaking one of the horses 
 reared, another kicked furiously, the shallow 
 flat boat was upset, and both they and the 
 Indian fell headlong into the river; they had 
 been secured together by a " laryette " or thong 
 of hide, which unfortunately came athwart the 
 Indian's shoulder, and thus he was held below 
 the water, while the struggles of the frightened 
 animals rendered it impossible for him to ex- 
 tricate himself. " He is entangled in the lar- 
 
 "E 2
 
 76 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 yette, " said the guide ; " nothing can save 
 him," he added in a grave and sadder tone. 
 " 'Tis a noble youth, and I would have wished 
 him a braver death ! What are you doing, 
 Master Reginald ? are you mad ? No man 
 can swim in that torrent. For your father's 
 sake" 
 
 But his entreaties and attempts to restrain 
 his impetuous companion were fruitless, for 
 Reginald had already thrown on the ground 
 his leathern hunting shirt, his rifle, and ammu- 
 nition ; and shaking off the grasp of the guide 
 as if the latter had been a child, he plunged 
 into the river, and swam to the spot where the 
 feebler struggles of the horses showed that they 
 were now almost at the mercy of the current. 
 When he reached them, Reginald dived below 
 the nearest, and dividing the laryette with two 
 or three successful strokes of his knife, brought 
 the exhausted Indian to the surface ; for a mo- 
 ment, he feared that he had come too late ; but 
 on inhaling a breath of air, the Redskin seemed 
 to regain both consciousness and strength, and 
 was able in his turn to assist Reginald, who had
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 77 
 
 received, when under water, a blow on the head 
 from the horse's hoof, the blood flowing fast 
 from the wound; short but expressive was the 
 greeting exchanged as they struck out for the 
 bank which one of the horses had already 
 gained ; another was bruised, battered, and 
 tossed about among some shelving rocks lower 
 down the river; and the third was being fast hur- 
 ried towards the same dangerous spot, when the 
 Indian, uttering a shrill cry, turned and swam 
 again towards this, his favourite horse, and by 
 a great exertion of skill and strength, brought 
 it to a part of the river where the current was 
 less rapid, and thence led it safely ashore. 
 
 These events had passed in less time than 
 their narration has occupied, and the whole 
 biped and quadruped party now stood drenched 
 and dripping on the bank. The two young 
 men gazed at each other in silence, with looks 
 of mingled interest and admiration; indeed, if 
 a sculptor had desired to place together two 
 different specimens of youthful manhood, in 
 which symmetry and strength were to be grace- 
 fully united, he could scarcely have selected
 
 78 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 two finer models: in height they might be 
 about equal; and though the frame and mus- 
 cular proportions of Reginald were more power- 
 ful, there was a roundness and compact knit- 
 ting of the joints, and a sinewy suppleness 
 in the limbs of his new acquaintance, such 
 as he thought he had never seen equalled in 
 statuary or in life. The Indian's gaze was 
 so fixed and piercing, that Reginald's eye wan- 
 dered more than once from his countenance 
 to the belt, where his war-club was still sus- 
 pended by a thong, the scalp-knife in its 
 sheath, and near it a scalp, evidently that 
 of a white man, and bearing the appearance 
 of having been recently taken. 
 
 With a slight shudder of disgust, he raised 
 his eyes again to the chiselled features of the 
 noble-looking being before him, and felt as- 
 sured that though they might be those of a 
 savage warrior, they could not be those of a 
 lurking .assassin. The Indian now moved a 
 step forward, and taking Reginald's hand, 
 placed it upon his own heart, saying distinctly 
 in English, " My brother !"
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 79 
 
 Reginald understood and appreciated this 
 simple expression of gratitude and friendship ; 
 he imitated his new friend's action, and evinced, 
 both by his looks and the kindly tones of his 
 voice, the interest which, to his own surprise, 
 the Indian had awakened in his breast. 
 
 At this juncture they were joined by the 
 guide, who had paddled himself across in a 
 canoe that he found at the ferry, which was ' 
 two hundred yards above the spot where they 
 now stood. At his approach, the young In- 
 dian resumed his srlent attitude of repose; 
 while, apparently unconscious of his presence, 
 Baptiste poured upon his favourite a min- 
 gled torrent of reproofs and congratulations. 
 
 " Why, Master Reginald, did the mad spirit 
 possess you to jump into the Muskingum, and 
 dive like an otter, where the water was swift 
 and dark as the Niagara rapids ! Pardie, 
 though, it was bravely done ! another minute, 
 and our Redskin friend would have f been in 
 the hunting-ground of his forefathers. Give 
 me your hand, master ; I love you better than 
 ever ! I had a mind to take a duck myself
 
 80 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 after ye; but thought, if bad luck came, I 
 might serve ye better with the canoe." While 
 rapidly uttering these broken sentences, he 
 handed to Reginald the hunting- shirt, rifle, 
 and other things, which he had brought over 
 in the canoe, and wrung the water out of 
 his cap, being all the time in a state of 
 ill -dissembled excitement. This done, he 
 turned to the young Indian, who was standing 
 aside, silent and motionless. The guide scan- 
 ned his features with a searching look, and 
 then muttered audibly, " I knew it must be 
 he." 
 
 A gleam shot from the dark eye of the 
 Indian, proving that he heard and understood 
 the phrase, but not a word escaped his lips. 
 
 Reginald, unable to repress his curiosity, 
 exclaimed, " Must be who, Baptiste ? Who 
 is my Indian friend my brother?" 
 
 A lurking smile played round the mouth 
 of the guide, as he said in a low tone to the 
 Indian, " Does the paint on my brother's face 
 tell a tale ? is his path in the night ? must his 
 name dwell between shut lips?"
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 81 
 
 To this last question the Indian, moving 
 forward with that peculiar grace and innate 
 dignity which characterized all his movements, 
 replied, " The War-Eagle hides his name from 
 none : his cry is heard from far, and his path 
 is straight : a dog's scalp is at his belt ! " Here 
 he paused a moment ; and added, in a softened 
 tone, " But the bad Spirit prevailed ; the waters 
 were too strong for him; the swimming-war- 
 rior's knife came; and again the War-Eagle 
 saw the light." 
 
 " And found a brother is it not so?" added 
 Reginald. 
 
 " It is so ! " replied the Indian : and there 
 was a depth of pathos in the tone of his voice 
 as he spoke, which convinced Reginald that 
 those words came from the heart. 
 
 " There were three horses with you in the 
 bac," said the guide : "two are under yonder 
 trees ; where is the third ? " 
 
 " Dead, among those rocks below the rapids,"' 
 answered War-Eagle, quietly. " He was a 
 fool, and was taken from a fool, and both are 
 
 E5
 
 82 THE PRAIRIE- BIRD. 
 
 now together:" as he spoke he pointed scorn- 
 fully to the scalp which hung at his belt. 
 
 Reginald and Baptiste interchanged looks 
 of uneasy curiosity, and then directing their 
 eyes towards the distant spot indicated by the 
 Indian, they distinguished the battered carcass 
 of the animal, partly hid by the water, and 
 partly resting against the rock, which pre- 
 vented it from floating down with the current. 
 
 The party now turned towards the horses 
 among the trees; which, after enjoying them- 
 selves by rolling in the grass, were feeding, 
 apparently unconscious of their double mis- 
 demeanour in having first upset the bac, and 
 then nearly drowned their master by their 
 struggles in the water. As Reginald and his 
 two companions approached, an involuntary 
 exclamation of admiration burst from him. 
 
 " Heavens, Baptiste ! did you ever see so 
 magnificent a creature as that with the lar- 
 yette round his neck ? And what a colour ! 
 it seems between chestnut and black ! Look 
 at his short, wild head, his broad forehead, 
 his bold eye, and that long silky mane falling
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 83 
 
 below his shoulder ! Look, also, at his short 
 back and legs ! Why, he has the beauty of 
 a barb joined to the strength of an English 
 hunter ! " 
 
 It may be well imagined that the greater 
 portion of this might have been a soliloquy, 
 as Baptiste understood but few, the Indian 
 none, of the expressions which Reginald ut- 
 tered with enthusiastic rapidity; both, how- 
 ever, understood enough to know that he was 
 admiring the animal, and both judged that his 
 admiration was not misplaced. 
 
 Our hero (for so we must denominate Re- 
 ginald Brandon) approached to handle and 
 caress the horse ; but the latter, with erect ears 
 and expanded nostrils, snorted an indignant 
 refusal of these civilities, and trotted off, toss- 
 ing high his mane as if in defiance of man's 
 dominion. At this moment, the War-Eagle 
 uttered a shrill, peculiar cry, when immediate- 
 ly the obedient horse came to his side, rub- 
 bing his head against his master's shoulder, 
 and courting those caresses which he had so 
 lately and so scornfully refused from Reginald.
 
 84 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 While the docile and intelligent animal thus 
 stood beside him, a sudden ray of light sparkled 
 in the Indian's eye, as with rapid utterance, 
 not unmingled with gesticulation, he said, 
 " The War-Eagle's path was toward the even- 
 ing sun ; his tomahawk drank the Camanchee's 
 blood; the wild horse was swift, and strong, 
 and fierce; the cunning man on the evening 
 prairie said he was Nekimi,* the Great 
 Spirit's angry breath;' but the War-Eagle's 
 neck- bullet struck" 
 
 At this part of the narrative, the guide, car- 
 ried away by the enthusiasm of the scene de- 
 scribed, ejaculated in the Delaware tongue, 
 " That was bravely done !" 
 
 For a moment the young Indian paused ; 
 and then, with increased rapidity and vehe- 
 mence, told in his own language how he had 
 captured and subdued the horse ; which faithful 
 creature, seemingly anxious to bear witness to 
 the truth of his master's tale, still sought and 
 returned his caresses. The Indian, however, 
 was not thereby deterred from the purpose 
 * Nekimi is the Delaware for " Thunder."
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 85 
 
 which had already made his eye flash with 
 pleasure. Taking the thong in his hand, and 
 placing it in that of Reginald, he said, resum- 
 ing the English tongue, " The War-Eagle 
 gives Nekimi to his brother. The white war- 
 rior may hunt the mastoche,* he may overtake 
 his enemies, he may fly from the prairie-fire 
 when the wind is strong: Nekimi never tires !" 
 Reginald was so surprised at this unexpected 
 offer, that he felt much embarrassed, and hesi- 
 tated whether he ought not to decline the 
 gift. Baptiste saw a cloud gathering on the 
 Indian's brow, and said in a low voice to his 
 master in French, " You must take the horse ; 
 a refusal would mortally offend him." Our 
 hero accordingly accompanied his expression 
 of thanks with every demonstration of satis- 
 faction and affection. Again War-Eagle's face 
 brightened with pleasure; but the effect upon 
 Nekimi seemed to be very different, for he 
 stoutly resisted his new master's attempts at 
 
 * In the Delaware language this expression seems ap- 
 plicable to any large swift animal, as it is given to the 
 elk, the buffalo, &c.
 
 86 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 approach or acquaintance, snorting and back- 
 ing at every step made by Reginald in advance. 
 
 " The white warrior must learn to speak 
 to Nekimi," said the Indian, quietly ; and he 
 again repeated the short, shrill cry before no- 
 ticed. In vain our hero tried to imitate the 
 sound; the horse's ears remained deaf to his 
 voice, and it seemed as if his new acquisition 
 could prove but of little service to him. 
 
 War-Eagle now took Reginald aside, and 
 smeared his hands with some grease taken from 
 a small bladder in his girdle, and on his ex- 
 tending them again towards the horse, much 
 of the fear and dislike evinced by the latter 
 disappeared. As soon as the animal would 
 permit Reginald to touch it, the Indian desired 
 him to hold its nostril firmly in his hand, and 
 placing his face by the horse's head, to look 
 up steadfastly into its eye for several minutes, 
 speaking low at intervals to accustom it to his 
 voice ; he assured him that in a few days Ne- 
 kimi would through this treatment become 
 docile and obedient.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 87 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 REGINALD AND BAPTISTS PAY A VISIT TO WAR-EAGLE. AN 
 ATTEMPT AT TREACHERY MEETS WITH SUMMARY PUNISH- 
 MENT. 
 
 THE other horse being now secured, the 
 party prepared to resume their journey; and 
 as it appeared after a few words whispered 
 between the Indian and the guide, that their 
 routes were in the same direction, they struck 
 into the forest, Baptiste leading, followed by 
 Reginald, and War-Eagle bringing up the rear 
 with the two horses. 
 
 After walking a few minutes in silence, 
 " Baptiste," said our hero in French, "what was 
 the story told about the horse? I understood 
 little of what he said in English, and none of 
 what he spoke in his own tongue." 
 
 " He told us, Master Reginald, that he was
 
 88 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 out on a war- party against the Camanchees, a 
 wild tribe of Indians in the South-west; they 
 steal horses from the Mexicans, and exchange 
 them with the Aricaras, Kioways, Pawnees, 
 and other Missouri Indians." ' 
 
 " Well, Baptiste, how did he take this swift 
 horse with his ' neck-bullet,' as he called it ?" 
 
 " That, Master Reginald, is the most diffi- 
 cult shot in the prairie ; and I have know few 
 Redskins up to it. The western hunters call 
 it 'creasing:' a ball must be shot just on the 
 upper edge of the spine where it enters the 
 horse's neck ; if it is exactly done, the horse 
 falls immediately, and is secured, then the 
 wound is afterwards healed ; but, if the ball 
 strikes an inch lower, the spine is missed, or 
 the horse is killed. Few Redskins can do it," 
 muttered the guide, "and the 'doctor' here," 
 shaking his long rifle, " has failed more than 
 once; but War-Eagle has said it, and there 
 are no lies in his mouth." 
 
 " Tell me, Baptiste," said Reginald, ear- 
 nestly ; " tell me something about my bro- 
 ther's history, his race, and exploits/'
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 89 
 
 " Afterwards, my young master. I know not 
 that he understands us now ; but these Indians 
 are curious critturs in hearing; I believe if 
 you spoke in that strange Dutch lingo which 
 you learnt across the water, the Redskins would 
 know how to answer you stay," added he, put- 
 ting his rifle to his shoulder, " here is work for 
 the doctor." 
 
 Reginald looked in the direction of the piece, 
 but saw nothing ; and the guide, while taking 
 his aim, still muttered to himself, " the pills are 
 very small, but they work somewhat sharp." 
 Pausing a moment, he drew the trigger; and 
 a sudden bound from under a brake, at fifty 
 yards distance, was the last death-spring of the 
 unlucky deer whose lair had not escaped the 
 hunter's practised eye. 
 
 "Bravely shot," shouted Reginald; "what 
 says War-Eagle?" 
 
 " Good," replied the Indian. 
 
 " Nay," said Baptiste ; " there was not much 
 in the shot; but your French waly-de-sham 
 might have walked past those bushes without 
 noting the twinkle of that crittur's eye. Our
 
 90 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 Redskin friend saw it plain enough I warrant 
 you," added he, with an inquiring look. 
 
 " War-Eagle's path is not on the deer track," 
 said the young chief, with a stern gravity. 
 
 In a very few minutes an additional load of 
 venison was across the sturdy shoulders of the 
 guide, and the party resumed their march in 
 silence. 
 
 They had not proceeded far, when the Indian 
 halted, saying, " War-Eagle's camp is near ; 
 will my white brother eat and smoke? the 
 sun is high, he can then return to his great 
 wigwam." 
 
 Reginald, who was anxious to see more of 
 his new friend, and in whom the morning's 
 exercise had awakened a strong relish for a 
 slice of broiled venison, assented at once, and 
 desired him to lead the way. 
 
 As he was still followed by the two horses, 
 War-Eagle was somewhat in advance of his 
 companions, and Baptiste whispered in French, 
 " Beware, Master Reginald you may fall into 
 a trap." 
 
 " For shame," said the latter, colouring with
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 91 
 
 indignation; "can you suspect treachery in 
 him? Did you not yourself say he could not 
 lie?" 
 
 "Your reproof is undeserved," said the cool 
 and wary hunter; " War- Eagle may not be 
 alone, there may be turkey -buzzards with 
 him." 
 
 " If there be a score of vultures," said Regi- 
 nald, " I will follow him without fear he would 
 not lead us into harm." 
 
 "Perhaps you are right," was the guide's 
 answer ; and again the party resumed their 
 march in silence. 
 
 They soon arrived at a place where the forest 
 was less densely wooded ; some of the larger 
 trees appeared to have been overthrown by a 
 hurricane, and some of the lesser to have fallen 
 by the axe. Nekimi trotted forward, as if 
 making for a spot that he recognised, and the 
 Indian recalled him with the same cry that he 
 had before used, adding, however, another, and 
 a shriller sound. 
 
 The guide shook his head, and muttered 
 something inaudibly between his teeth, loosen-
 
 92 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 ing at the same time the huge axe in his belt, 
 and throwing his long rifle over his arm, ready 
 for immediate use. 
 
 These preparations did not escape the ob- 
 servation of Reginald; and although he said 
 nothing, he felt more uneasy than he cared to 
 own; for it struck him that if the guide, who 
 seemed to have so high an opinion of War- 
 Eagle, was apprehensive of treachery or of 
 some unforeseen danger, there was less ground 
 for his own confidence. 
 
 Meantime the Indian walked composedly 
 forward until he reached the camp,* a pretty 
 spot, sheltered on the windward side by a laurel 
 thicket, and on the other commanding a view 
 of the open glade, and of a small stream wind- 
 ing its silent course towards the river which 
 our party had so lately left. 
 
 On a grassy plot, between two venerable 
 trees, the embers of a smouldering fire sent up 
 
 * Among the western hunters any resting-place for the 
 night, or even where a fire has been made for a mid-day 
 halt, though it may be by one individual, is commonly 
 called " a camp." This must be borne in mind throughout 
 the following tale.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 93 
 
 the thin blue vapour which rises from the 
 burning of green wood, several logs of which 
 were still piled for fuel ; while sundry bones and 
 feathers, scattered at no great distance, gave 
 sufficient evidence of recent feasting. 
 
 War-Eagle glanced hastily around his camp ; 
 and leaving Nekimi to feed at liberty, secured 
 the less tractable horse ; while he was thus em- 
 ployed, the guide whispered in a low voice, 
 " There are three or four Indians here ! I trace 
 their marks on the grass, and I know it by this 
 fire; it is a war party there are no squaws 
 here; Master Reginald, keep your ears and 
 eyes open, but show no distrust ; if he offers a 
 pipe, all may yet be right." 
 
 Although the guide said this so distinctly 
 that Reginald heard every syllable, he was to 
 all appearance busily engaged in throwing some 
 dry sticks on the fire, and easing himself of the 
 skins and the venison with which he was loaded. 
 The Indian now took from a hollow in one of 
 the old trees before-mentioned, a pipe, the bowl 
 of which was of red sandstone, and the stick 
 painted and ornamented with stained porcupine
 
 94 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 quills ; he also drew out a leather bag of Kinne- 
 kinek; and having filled and lighted his pipe, 
 seated himself at a short distance from the fire, 
 and gravely invited Reginald to sit on his right, 
 and the guide on his left. As soon as they were 
 seated, War-Eagle inhaled a large volume of 
 smoke; and looking reverently up to the sky, 
 sent forth a long whiff, as an offering to the 
 Great Spirit ; then simply saying, " My brother 
 is welcome," he passed the pipe to Reginald, 
 and afterwards to Baptiste. 
 
 For some time they smoked in silence: not 
 a sound was heard but the crackling of the 
 wood on the fire, and the occasional chirrup of 
 a robin in the neighbouring bushes ; this silent 
 system not suiting Reginald's ardent tempera- 
 ment, he abruptly addressed the Indian as 
 follows. 
 
 * Kinne-kinek is a mixture made by the Indians from 
 the inner bark of the willow pounded small, tobacco, 
 and the dried leaves of the sumach : the flavour of this 
 composition is by no means disagreeable ; the word itself 
 is Delaware, but the mixture is in common use among 
 many tribes.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 95 
 
 " Has my brother come far from his people?" 
 A cloud gathered on the chief's brow, and the 
 guide thought that a storm of wrath would be 
 excited by this unlucky question; but the In- 
 dian looking steadily upon the frank open coun- 
 tenance of the speaker, replied in a voice rather 
 melancholy than fierce, " War-Eagle has few 
 people : the bones of his fathers are not far ! " 
 Our hero anxious to dismiss a subject which 
 seemed painful to his new friend, turned the 
 conversation to his equipment, and observed, 
 
 
 
 " My brother walks abroad without fear ; he is 
 almost without arms." 
 
 The Indian carelessly resting his hand upon 
 his war-club, said (speaking rather to himself 
 than to his companions), " It has tasted blood : 
 ask the Dahcotahs !" 
 
 " The Dahcotahs are dogs," said the guide 
 angrily. " Their skins are red, but their hearts 
 are white ! " 
 
 War-Eagle turning upon him a penetrating 
 look, continued, " Grande-Hache is a warrior ; 
 he has smoked, has feasted, has fought among
 
 96 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 the Lenape ; * he has struck more than one Da- 
 cotah chief. But the Grande-Hache cannot 
 rest : the scalp of his mother hangs in the lodge 
 of the Assiniboins ; f her spirit is unquiet in the 
 dark hunting-ground." 
 
 The guide made no reply, but the forced 
 compression of his lips, and the muscular con- 
 traction that passed over his sinewy frame, 
 showed how deeply he cherished that vengeance 
 which the Indian's word awakened. 
 
 " This is, then," said our hero to himself, 
 " the cause of that fierce unextinguishable hate 
 which Baptiste has always borne to these 
 Sioux ; I cannot wonder at it." Reginald con- 
 tinued, however, his conversation respecting his 
 new friend's equipment, in the same tone: 
 " My brother's war-club is strong, and that 
 iron spike in its head is sharp; but the rifle 
 kills from far, and the white men are not all 
 friends to him." 
 
 * The Delawares call themselves Lenni-Lenape, " the 
 ancient or original people." 
 
 f Assiniboins the "stone heaters" a powerful and 
 warlike branch of the great Dahcotah or Sioux nation.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 97 
 
 " War-Eagle has ears and eyes ; he can see 
 snakes in the grass," was the calm reply. 
 
 " Nay, but my brother is careless," said Re- 
 ginald laughing; " Grande-Hache, as you call 
 him, and I are two men, both strong and armed 
 with rifles : if we were not his brothers, the 
 War-Eagle would be in danger." 
 
 " The bad Spirit made the thick water and 
 the horses too strong for War-Eagle," said the 
 latter, referring to the morning's accident, " but 
 he could not be hurt by his brother's rifle." 
 
 " And why so?" demanded Reginald. 
 
 " Because," said the Indian, " the white war- 
 rior has smoked, has taken his brother's gift, 
 and the Great Spirit has written on his face 
 that he cannot speak lies." 
 
 " You are right, my brave friend," said Regi- 
 nald, (not a little gratified by the untutored 
 compliment;) "but if you fall in with white 
 men who carry rifles, and who do speak lies 
 how fares it with you then ? " 
 
 " War-Eagle is always ready," said he, in 
 the same unmoved tone ; " the Grande-Hache 
 is a great warrior my brother will take many 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 scalps; yet if their tongues were forked if 
 their hearts were bad both would die where 
 they now sit they have neither ears nor eyes 
 but the Lenape is a chief, they are as safe 
 here as in the great white village." 
 
 Though inwardly nettled at this taunt, which 
 he felt to be not altogether undeserved, the 
 guide took no other notice of it than to strain 
 to the utmost those organs of sight and hearing 
 which the Redskin had held so cheap, but in 
 vain: the forest around them seemed wrapt in 
 solitude and silence; the eyes of Reginald, 
 however, served him better on this occasion. 
 "By heaven, the Indian speaks truth," said 
 he; "I see them plainly one, two, three! 
 and we, Baptiste, are at their mercy." 
 
 This he spoke in French, and the guide an- 
 swered in the same language : " Do you see 
 Indians, Master Reginald, where I can see 
 naught but trees, and logs, and grass ; if it is 
 so I am an owl, and no hunter !" 
 
 " Glance your eye," said our hero, calmly, to 
 yon old fallen log, that lies fifty or sixty yards 
 to your right, there are three small parallel
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 99 
 
 lines visible there, they are three gun-barrels ; 
 the sun shone on them a minute since, and 
 their muzzles are directed full upon us." 
 
 " It is true ; your eyes are younger than 
 mine, I suppose," said the guide, apparently 
 more disconcerted at that circumstance than 
 at the imminent peril of their situation. He 
 added, in a low, determined tone, "but they 
 must shoot very true, if they wish to prevent 
 me from taking this deep and deceitful villain 
 with me on the long journey." 
 
 During the whole of this conversation, War- 
 Eagle sat in unmoved silence, occasionally puf- 
 fing out a whiff from the fragrant herb in his 
 pipe. Reginald met the unexpected danger 
 with the straightforward, daring courage which 
 was the characteristic of his mind; Baptiste 
 with the cool resolution which was the result 
 of a life of stratagems, perils, and escapes. 
 
 " War-Eagle," said the former, " you speak 
 true ; Grande- Hache and I have shut our eyes 
 and ears ; but they are now open ; I see your 
 warriors." 
 
 The Indian turned his searching eye full 
 
 F2
 
 100 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 upon the speaker; he met a look bold, open, 
 fearless as his own. " Where can my white 
 brother see warriors?" he inquired. 
 
 " Their guns are across yonder log," said Re- 
 ginald ; " and their muzzles are pointed here." 
 
 "It is so," said War-Eagle ; "the red men 
 are on the war-path; they seek blood; is my 
 white brother not afraid ? " 
 
 " War- Eagle is a chief," replied the young 
 man ; " he cannot lie, he has said that his white 
 brother is as safe as in the wigwam of his fa- 
 ther!" 
 
 Again the Indian bent a scrutinizing look 
 upon the countenance of the speaker, and 
 again met the same smile of fearless confi- 
 dence. With more emotion than he had yet 
 shown, he said, " The Great Spirit has given to 
 my white brother the big heart of a Lenape !" 
 
 He now made a signal to his ambuscade to 
 come forth, on which they started up from be- 
 hind the large fallen tree which had hitherto 
 screened them, and advanced slowly towards 
 the camp. They were three in number; two 
 of them active looking men, of moderate sta-
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 101 
 
 ture, but of symmetrical proportions; the third 
 a lad, apparently about seventeen years old ; 
 the faces of the two former were painted with 
 black stripes, which gave them an appearance 
 at once fierce and grotesque ; they were lightly 
 clad in hunting -shirts, leggins, and mocas- 
 sins, all of elk-skin, and each carried a toma- 
 hawk, scalp-knife, and the gun before men- 
 tioned; the young lad carried no other weapon 
 but the gun; his hunting-shirt was fancifully 
 ornamented with tassels of porcupine quills, 
 and was fastened at the waist by a belt stud- 
 ded with party - coloured beads ; his leggins 
 were fringed, and his mocassins were also 
 braided with the quills of the porcupine; in 
 figure he was slight and tall ; as he drew near, 
 Reginald thought his countenance even more 
 remarkable than that of War-Eagle; indeed its 
 beauty would have been almost effeminate, had 
 it not been for the raven blackness of the hair, 
 and the piercing fire of the dark eyes. The 
 three came forward in silence, the lad being 
 rather in advance of the others, and stood be- 
 fore the War- Eagle.
 
 102 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 He bade them in his own language to be 
 seated, and smoke the pipe with the white men. 
 They did so, with the exception of the lad, who 
 not being yet a warrior, passed it untouched; 
 and when it had gone round, War-Eagle ha- 
 rangued his party; as he narrated the events 
 of the morning, Reginald was struck by the 
 deep and flexible modulation of his voice; and 
 although he did not understand a word of the 
 language, fancied that he knew when the chief 
 related his immersion and subsequent preserva- 
 tion by the white man's knife. 
 
 At this portion of the tale, the Indian youth 
 made no attempt to conceal his emotion ; his 
 glistening eyes were fixed upon the speaker, 
 and every feature of his intelligent countenance 
 beamed with affectionate interest : as War- Eagle 
 described his being struck under water, stun- 
 ned by a blow from a horse's foot, and that 
 the thick water covered him, a hurried excla- 
 mation escaped from the boy's lips ; and when 
 his chief related how the white warrior had 
 dived, had cut the cord in which he was en- 
 tangled, and had brought him again to the
 
 THE PRAIRIE- BIRD. ]03 
 
 air and to life, the youth, no longer able to 
 control his feelings, threw himself into Regi- 
 nald's arms, exclaiming in good English, 
 
 " The Great Spirit reward the white war- 
 rior : he has given me back my chief my bro- 
 ther!" 
 
 Our hero was no less astonished than was 
 the guide, at such uncontrolled emotion in a 
 youth of a nation so early taught to conceal 
 their feelings; nor were they less surprised 
 at the clearness and purity of accent with which 
 he expressed himself in English. 
 
 " I only did, my boy," said Reginald, kindly, 
 " what you would have done had you been in 
 my place." 
 
 " You are a great warrior," said the youth, 
 running his eye over the powerful frame beside 
 him : " Wingenund would have gone into the 
 strong river, and would have died with the 
 War-Eagle." 
 
 " Is Wingenund, then, your name, my brave 
 boy?" 
 
 " It was my forefather's name," said the 
 youth, proudly. " I have yet no name : but
 
 104 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 War-Eagle says I may have one soon, and I 
 will have no other." 
 
 " I feel sure you will deserve your fore- 
 father's name," said Reginald. " What does 
 it mean in my language?" 
 " It means ' The Beloved.' " 
 
 " The youth speaks true," murmured the 
 guide, (who, though busily engaged in round- 
 ing off a bullet with his knife, lost not a word 
 or gesture that passed,) "he speaks only truth ; 
 I knew his forefather well: a braver and a 
 better heart never dwelt among the LenapeV' 
 
 The boy looked gratefully at the weather- 
 beaten hunter; and as he cast his eyes down 
 in silence, it would have been difficult to say 
 whether pleasure, pride, or pain predominated 
 in their expression. 
 
 " Tell me," resumed Reginald, " how come 
 you to speak English like a white man ? " 
 
 " The good-father and Olitipa taught me." 
 
 Reginald looked at the guide for an expla- 
 nation ; that worthy personage shook his head, 
 saying, " The boy talks riddles ; but they are 
 not hard to guess. The good-father must be
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 105 
 
 some missionary, or priest ; and Olitipa would 
 in their tongue signify * pretty prairie-fowl;' 
 so it is probably the name of a Delaware wo- 
 man perhaps his sister." 
 
 " Kehella la so it is," said the boy : " Oli- 
 tipa is in your tongue ' pretty prairie-bird,' and 
 she is my sister." 
 
 "Where is Prairie-bird?" inquired Regi- 
 nald, amused by the youth's naivete. 
 
 " Far, far away, beyond the great river ! 
 But we will go back soon; shall we not?" 
 inquired he, looking up timidly at War-Eagle. 
 
 " Pechu lenitti"* answered the chief; and 
 leaning towards the youth, he added some 
 words in a whisper, which made him start 
 up to obey the orders he had received. 
 
 Reginald was not long left in ignorance of 
 their nature, as in a few minutes the active 
 lad had refreshed the fire, and was busy in 
 broiling some venison steaks, which, after the 
 exercise of the morning, sent up a steam far 
 from unpleasant to the senses of any of those 
 present. 
 
 * " By-and-by," or " soou.'' 
 
 1 F5
 
 106 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 " Master Reginald," said the guide, " that 
 silly perroquet of yours, Gustave Perrot, is 
 always telling fine stories of what he has seen 
 in Europe, and talking of the scent of roses, 
 and the sweet sounds of music, till the girls 
 in the clearins think he 's a book-author and 
 a poet ; did you ever smell any scent, or hear 
 any music, sweeter than comes from the hiss- 
 ing and frizzing of those slices of fat venison 
 after a six hours' hunt in the woods ?*' 
 
 " Perhaps not," said Reginald, laughing ; 
 " but we are only hunters, and Monsieur 
 Perrot is a man of taste." 
 
 "Whom have we here?" grumbled the guide, 
 as an Indian appeared in the distance. " Friend 
 War-Eagle, is this another of your band ? " 
 
 " He is," replied the chief: " all are now 
 here." 
 
 The new-comer was a powerful, athletic- 
 looking man; his face was painted one half 
 black, and the other half striped with bars of 
 red; the sleeves of his hunting-shirt were so 
 short and loose, that his naked arms were 
 visible, one of which was tatooed in the form
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 107 
 
 of a lizard, and on the other he wore an arm- 
 let of brass ; his leggins and mocassins were 
 soiled and torn, and the perspiration streaming 
 from his matted hair shewed that he had 
 travelled both far and fast. He was, like the 
 rest, equipped with rifle, tomahawk, and scalp- 
 knife; his countenance, as far as it could be 
 distinguished through its disguise of paint, was 
 expressive of cunning and ferocity. Though 
 probably much surprised at seeing two white 
 men sitting thus amicably with his chief, he 
 took little notice of them, or of the rest of 
 the party ; but without asking, or being asked, 
 any questions, seated himself on the opposite 
 side of the fire, lighted his pipe, and smoked. 
 
 " Master Reginald," said the guide, in 
 French, " I do not like that fellow. I know 
 not how he comes to be with our friend here, 
 for he belongs to another tribe : I have seen 
 him before." 
 
 Meantime, the industrious lad had broiled 
 his venison steaks, and having gathered some 
 broad leaves, which served on this occasion 
 for plates, he brought the first slice to Regi-
 
 108 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 nald, the second to Baptiste, the next to War- 
 Eagle, and so on, until he went through the 
 party; after which, without tasting anything 
 himself, he took his station close to his chief 
 and his new friend. During the meal, the 
 Indian last arrived talked much in a suppressed 
 voice to the one next to him, and seemed 
 studiously to avert his eyes from his chief and 
 the two white men. 
 
 " TarheY' said War-Eagle, addressing him, 
 "is there not tassmanane* for the stranger? 
 he is my brother, and his path has been long." 
 
 Tarhe went to his " cache," a spot not 
 many yards distant, and taking out two or 
 three small cakes, brought them round behind 
 his chief, and offered one to our hero, who 
 was in the act of receiving it, when the mis- 
 creant, drawing the knife from his girdle, 
 aimed a blow at the back of the unsuspecting 
 Reginald. 
 
 Nothing could have saved him from instant 
 
 * Tassmanane : a kind of bread made by the Delawares 
 for long journeys. It is made of maize, powdered very fine, 
 and sweetened with maple sugar.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 109 
 
 death, had not the gallant boy thrown himself 
 between the savage and his victim. The 
 knife went through his arm ; and so deadly 
 was the force by which it was guided, that 
 it still descended, and inflicted a slight scratch 
 on Reginald's shoulder. 
 
 War-Eagle sprang like a tiger from the 
 ground, and with one blow of his tremendous 
 war-club dashed the ruffian to the earth ; then 
 turning suddenly his angry glance upon the 
 two other Indians, he asked if they had any 
 part in Tarhe's plot. Neither had stirred from 
 their seat, and both declared they had known 
 nothing of his intention. It was well for them 
 that the chief believed them, for this act of vile 
 treachery had aroused all the slumbering fire 
 within him, and the veins started like blue 
 cords upon his temples. 
 
 Reginald's first impulse, when he jumped 
 upon his feet, was to hasten to the wounded 
 youth, whose features were now lighted up 
 by a smile of happiness. " Tell me, my brave 
 generous boy, are you much hurt?" 
 
 " No, 1 ' said he : "I should have been hurt
 
 110 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 if the War-Eagle's camp had been stained 
 with the blood of his white brother." 
 
 The sturdy guide himself could not repress 
 his admiration of this gallant boy's conduct, 
 who now stood looking intently upon War- 
 Eagle, his features animated by excitement and 
 by pride, and the knife still fixed up to the 
 very handle in his arm. 
 
 " War-Eagle," said Baptiste, " the Lenape 
 are men, their boys are warriors : that dog is 
 not a Lenape," added, he, pointing to the pros- 
 trate body of Tarh. 
 
 " Tah-Delamattenos" * said the chief indig- 
 nantly. The youth now moving a step forward, 
 came before his chief with an air of modest 
 dignity, and slowly drew the reeking knife from 
 his arm, while a stream of blood gushed from 
 the wound ; not a muscle of his frame trembled, 
 not a feature varied its expression, as he said 
 
 * " Tah-Delamattenos," " No, he is a Wyandot." 
 This tribe occupied the region to the north of Ohio, and 
 the north-west of Pennsylvania ; they spoke a dialect of 
 the Iroquois, and are better known by the name of Hu- 
 rons ; they sometimes hunted with the Delaware, by whom 
 they were designated as above.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. Ill 
 
 in a voice of musical gentleness, " War-Eagle, 
 will Wingenund allow his grandson now to bear 
 his name?" 
 
 " Wingenund !"" said War-Eagle, looking upon 
 him with affectionate pride, " the chiefs at the 
 Council-fire shall know that the blood of the 
 well-beloved still flows in a young warrior's 
 veins." 
 
 " My good friend," said the guide to the 
 chief, " you have no time to lose, the lad will 
 bleed to death ! " 
 
 Reginald sprang forward, and closing as he 
 best could the gaping wound, bound his hand- 
 kerchief tightly over it 
 
 There was, indeed, no time to be lost; for 
 the blood had flowed more freely than his 
 youthful frame could endure. A painful dizzi- 
 ness came over him; and murmuring almost 
 inaudibly " The White Warrior is safe, and 
 Wingenund is happy," he fell senseless into 
 Reginald's arms.
 
 112 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CONTAINING SOME PARTICULARS OF THE HISTORY OF THE 
 TWO DELAWARES AND OF BAPTISTE. THE LATTER RETURNS 
 WITH REGINALD TO MOOSHANNE, THE RESIDENCE OF CO- 
 LONEL BRANDON. 
 
 " I FEAR he will die ! " said Reginald in a 
 tone of the deepest grief, as he stooped over 
 the inanimate form of the wounded boy. 
 
 " Die ! " said the War-Eagle almost fiercely, 
 " yes, he will die ! but not by the bite of 
 yonder serpent," pointing to the body of the 
 Wyandot ; " he will die when the Great Spirit 
 orders it ; but before he dies, the murderers of 
 his father shall hear his war-whoop ! His 
 tomahawk shall be red in their blood; their 
 scalps shall hang at his belt ! then Wingenund 
 may go to his ancient people in the happy 
 hunting fields ! ""
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 113 
 
 " My brother," said Reginald earnestly, and 
 still supporting the insensible frame of Winge- 
 nund, " do not lead this youth to shed the 
 white man's blood ! He cannot call back those 
 who are gone ! We have a book which the 
 Great Spirit gave to our forefathers ; it speaks 
 His own words, and He tells us, ' Vengeance 
 is mine;' and He also tells us that if we would 
 please Him, we must forgive those who have 
 injured us; His arrows are very sharp; His 
 auger is fierce; His justice is sure. Leave 
 Him to punish those bad men, and teach the 
 * well-beloved' to be the white man's friend." 
 
 For a minute the chief seemed buried in 
 deep thought; then suddenly starting from his 
 reverie, he spoke a few words in a low tone to 
 one of his men, who instantly moved away, 
 and disappeared in the forest. 
 
 War-Eagle then replied in a tone rather of 
 melancholy than of reproof, " The Great Spirit 
 never speaks to the red man in words: if He 
 is angry, He thunders; if He is pleased, He 
 sends rain and sunshine, to make the corn and 
 fruits to grow, and sweet grass to fatten the
 
 114 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 deer; my brother says the Great Spirit has 
 spoken plainly to the white man in words, and 
 that those words are painted in a book. War- 
 Eagle believes it, because my brother's tongue 
 is not forked ; but he would ask, Did 
 those white men, who came in the night like 
 wolves to the couch of the fawn, who murdered 
 the father, the kindred, the little sisters of 
 Wingenund, did those men hear the Great 
 Spirit's words?" 
 
 " My brother," said Reginald, " there ar* 
 among white men many wolves and serpents: 
 men whose hands are bloody, and their tongue 
 forked. The Great Spirit does not forbid to 
 punish, or even to kill such men, in defence of 
 ourselves, our wigwams, our children, or our 
 friend; He is not angry with War-Eagle for 
 striking down that Huron whose hand was 
 raised to shed his brother's blood; but when 
 the grass of many seasons has grown over the 
 graves of those who were injured, then the 
 Great Spirit commands man to let his anger 
 sleep, to bury his hatchet, and to forgive." 
 
 " It may be so," said War- Eagle gravely,
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 115 
 
 " the Good Father in the Western Hunting- 
 ground has said the same; Olitipa, whose voice 
 is like the mocking-bird, and who speaks only 
 truth, she has spoken the same; but it is very 
 dark, War-Eagle cannot see it." 
 
 " Who is the Prairie-bird?" inquired Regi- 
 nald, whose curiosity had twice been excited 
 by the mention of this extraordinary name. 
 
 Before the chief could reply, the Indian, 
 whom he had sent, returned with a mess made 
 from several leaves, herbs, and roots, which he 
 had bruised and reduced to a kind of glutinous 
 pulp; War-Eagle now took off the bandage 
 from the youth's arm ; after examining it care- 
 fully, and applying some of the above mix- 
 ture to both the orifices of the wound, he 
 bound it again, more strongly and skilfully than 
 before ; then taking him in his arms, as if he 
 had been a little child, he carried him down to 
 the rivulet ; and by dint of bathing his temples 
 and rubbing forcibly his hands and feet, soon 
 restored the suspended animation. 
 
 When he was recovered so far as to be able 
 to speak, Reginald, sitting down by him, said a
 
 116 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 thousand kind things to him, such as were 
 prompted by the gratitude of a generous heart. 
 
 While they were conversing, the guide drew 
 near to the chief ; and pointing to the body of 
 the Wyandot, which still lay where he had 
 fallen, said, " He is surely dead !" 
 
 " He is so, 1 ' replied the other gravely; 
 " when War-Eagle is angry he does not strike 
 his enemy's forehead twice." 
 
 The guide now turned over the body ; and 
 seeing that the iron point of the war- club had 
 entered just above the eyes, and had sunk deep 
 into the brain, he knew that instant death must 
 have ensued. The chief calling the two In- 
 dians, desired them to bury the body where it 
 would be safe from wolves and buzzards. " But," 
 he added sternly, " let not the spot be marked 
 for his kindred: he died like a dog, and none 
 should lament him." 
 
 As they turned away to execute these orders, 
 the guide observed to the chief " that Huron 
 has not been long with the War-Eagle." 
 
 " True, but how does the Grande-Hache 
 know it?"
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 117 
 
 " His eye has been on him more than once ; 
 Grande-Hache sees, but he can hold his 
 tongue." 
 
 " Grande-Hache is a warrior," replied the 
 chief: "he has seen many things; he has 
 talked with the wise men ; does he know why 
 yon Huron wished to kill the young white 
 brave ?" 
 
 " He does," said Grande-Hache ; but as he 
 did not of himself state what he knew, it would 
 have been contrary to the usages of Indian 
 courtesy to have questioned him further. 
 
 Baptiste now diverting the conversation to 
 another topic, said, " It is singular that War- 
 Eagle, on a war-path far from his village, 
 should have only strangers with him, excepting 
 the youth who is wounded !" 
 
 " What means the Grande-Hache?" 
 
 "He means," replied the guide, "that the 
 other two, now gone to bury the Huron, are 
 Southern men* they are not Lenape." 
 
 * Southern-men in the Delaware language Cha-oua-no 
 or Shawano known to the Americans as "Shawnees." 
 This powerful tribe were generally in alliance with the
 
 118 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 " Grande-Hache has ears and eyes open 
 how can he know that he speaks truth ? " said 
 the chief. 
 
 " Because he has eyes and ears; 1 ' replied 
 the guide. "Does War -Eagle think that 
 Grande-Hache has hunted twenty years among 
 the red nations, and knows not yet the mocas- 
 sin and tongue of a Shaw an on ? I knew them 
 at a glance," added he, with shrewd smile, " as 
 well as I knew the War- Eagle in the batteau, 
 though both he and they have put on their 
 faces the paint of the Mengwe"* 
 
 " Grande-Hache speaks truth," replied the 
 chief, dryly, without showing the surprise and 
 annoyance that he felt at the penetration of the 
 guide. " The men are Shawanons, they hunt 
 with the Lenape, beyond the great river they 
 are brothers." 
 
 So saying, he broke off the conversation, and 
 
 Lenape", and inhabited the country on their western fron- 
 tier. About the time of our tale, they were very numerous 
 on the banks of the Muskingum and of the Wabash river. 
 
 * Mengwe, or Mingoes, the Delaware name for those 
 Indians who resided chiefly in the northern States of the 
 Union, and who are better known as the " Iroquois."
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 119 
 
 turning towards Wingenund, saw that he was 
 talking as earnestly and freely with Reginald as 
 if they had been long intimate ; while he con- 
 templated this friendly intercourse with a smile 
 of satisfaction, the guide felt himself called 
 upon to remind his companion that the sun 
 was getting low, that they had yet some miles 
 to walk, and that the colonel would be anxious 
 and impatient. 
 
 " True," said Reginald, springing up, " I 
 must take leave of my brother, and of my 
 young preserver; but we shall meet again ; we 
 will hunt together, and be friends." 
 
 " Let it be so," said the lad, with an ardour 
 which he cared not to conceal; "and Winge- 
 nund will tell Prairie-Bird that the white war- 
 rior who drew War- Eagle from the deep water, 
 will come to see her, and she will thank him." 
 
 While the boy was speaking, the chief turned 
 away, and busied himself in fastening a thong- 
 halter firmly to the head of Nekimi, whom he 
 again led to his new master. 
 
 Reginald now undid from his waist the silver 
 buckled belt with the couteau-de-chasse which
 
 120 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 it supported, and buckling it round the youth, 
 he said, " Wingenund must wear this, and must 
 not forget his white friend." 
 
 The boy's eyes sparkled with pleasure, as he 
 received this gift ; but he was still too weak to 
 stand, and he only murmured, in a low voice, 
 " Wingenund will not forget." 
 
 The chief now taking the guide aside, said to 
 him, in his own language, " How is my white 
 brother called ?" 
 
 " I call him ' Master Reginald.' " * 
 
 After one or two ludicrous attempts at an 
 imitation, War-Eagle shook his head, saying, 
 "It is not good may his Lenape friend call 
 him Netis.' " 
 
 As soon as Reginald was informed of what 
 had passed, and of the meaning of his new 
 name, he accepted it with pleasure, and Winge- 
 nund repeated it again and again as our hero 
 bid him farewell. 
 
 * " Master Reginald," might well puzzle the chief, as 
 there is no letter R in the Delaware language, though some 
 of them contrive to pronounce it. 
 
 "Netis" signifies in their tongue, "a trusted friend," 
 " one to whom all secrets are confided."
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 121 
 
 War-Eagle insisted upon accompanying him, 
 and leading Nekimi through the forest, until 
 they reached the broad wheel track which 
 passed Colonel Brandon's house, and thence 
 led through other clearings to the village of 
 Marietta. As they went along, Reginald de- 
 sired Baptiste in a whisper to talk with the 
 chief, and endeavour to draw from him, what 
 article of dress, ornament, or use, he would 
 most value, as he was anxious to make his In- 
 dian brother a present ; and the guide, by skil- 
 fully manoeuvring his conversation, soon learnt 
 that War-Eagle had, on this last excursion, 
 lost his rifle, and that he was also short of am- 
 munition. They now emerged from the forest 
 upon the great road, if it might be so called, 
 leading to Marietta; and the Indian putting the 
 halter of Nekimi into Reginald's hand, said 
 that he would return to his camp. Our hero, 
 taking him by the hand, said, "Netis wishes 
 to see his brother at this spot to-morrow at 
 noon." 
 
 " War-Eagle will come," was the brief reply; 
 and shaking both the whitemen cordially by 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 the hand, he turned and disappeared among 
 the trees. 
 
 Reginald and the guide were within a few 
 miles of Colonel Brandon's house; but they 
 could not proceed very fast, owing to the evi- 
 dent reluctance shown by Nekimi to follow his 
 new master; he neighed, snorted, jumped, and 
 played all manner of pranks in his endeavour to 
 get loose; but this War-Eagle had foreseen, 
 and the tough halter of undressed hide was 
 well enough secured to defy all his efforts at 
 escape. 
 
 " This has been a strange day of adventures, 
 Baptiste," said Reginald ; " it has been to me 
 one of the pleasantest of my life !" 
 
 " Why, Master Reginald, it has been a day 
 of events, such as they are; you have been 
 twice at the outside edge of t'other world, with 
 water and cold iron." 
 
 " Oh, there was not much harm in the water," 
 said Reginald, laughing; "had it not been for 
 the knock which one of the horses gave me on 
 the head; but that villanous attempt of the 
 Huron makes me shudder; to offer a man food,
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 123 
 
 and stab him while he is taking it ! I thought 
 such a thing was unknown in Indian history." 
 
 " It is, almost," said the guide. " But a 
 Huron and a Dacotah ! " added he, bitterly 
 " would murder a brother to gratify re- 
 venge." 
 
 " But I had never injured him, Baptiste." 
 " His memory is better than yours, Master 
 Reginald. He and his brother were two of 
 the leading warriors in that unfortunate affair 
 where St. Clair was beat by the Ingians, upon 
 the north fork of the Miami. I was there, 
 too, and the ' Doctor's ' pills did some sar- 
 vice but not much to signify, neither. Co- 
 lonel Brandon did all that man could do, 
 but, at last, he was forced back. Well, 
 that Tarhe and his brother, first in the pur- 
 suit, killed two of our poor fellows, and were 
 scalping 'em, when the Colonel called out to 
 'em, and fired. He killed Tarhe's brother 
 dead. I see'd it all ; and I took a long squint 
 with the Doctor at Tarhe, which only lamed 
 his arm a bit ; for, you see, Master Reginald, 
 I was a long ways off; and a chap don't shoot
 
 124 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 quite so fine when he 's a retreatin' double- 
 quick, with a few hundred Redskins yellin' 
 in his rear. However, that Tarhe has been 
 more than once down at Marietta, and round 
 the neighbours'" clearins ; and he knowed you, 
 Master Reginald, just as well as a Kentucky 
 hog knows an acorn." 
 
 " Now I understand it, so far, Baptiste. 
 But if the fellow wanted to take my life, why 
 did he not hide in the laurel-thicket, and shoot 
 me as I passed? Why did he make the at- 
 tempt where my death was sure to be re- 
 venged ?" 
 
 " Now, Master Reginald, you are asking a 
 poor ignorant crittur, who knows nought but 
 a little huntin', and, may be, knows a beaver- 
 skin from a buffalo- hide, all the ins and outs 
 of a red Ingian's crooked mind ! May be, he 
 wanted to force War-Eagle into shedding white- 
 man's blood. I saw that one of those Shawa- 
 nons was up to his game ; and if a general 
 skrimmage had come, they'd have tried to do 
 for me. Or, perhaps, when he found his knife 
 so convenient to the back of your neck, he
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 125 
 
 couldn't lose the chance, for the bad spirit 
 had got hold of him." 
 
 " By heavens ! " cried Reginald, " I never 
 can sufficiently admire the quickness, and the 
 heroic courage of that boy, Wingenund ! Did 
 you see, Baptiste, how he drew that great 
 knife slowly out of his wounded arm ; and how 
 all the time he smiled upon War-Eagle, as 
 if to show him that he despised the pain ?" 
 
 " He is a brave youth," said the guide. " I 
 know the stock he comes from : if he were a 
 coward, the grisly bear might breed sheep ! " 
 
 " Pray tell me something of his parents, 
 and of his story. Is he related to War- 
 Eagle?" 
 
 " He is, 1 ' said the guide. *' They are the 
 children of two brothers. War-Eagle of the 
 eldest ; Wingenund of the youngest." 
 
 " Are these two brothers alive, Baptiste ?'* 
 
 " No : both were murdered by the white 
 men, in time of peace, without provocation. 
 There was a third brother, who, happening 
 to be absent from the village on a hunt, es- 
 caped. He has now gone to the far-west,
 
 126 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 beyond the great river. Both the War- Eagle 
 and the boy are called his sons ; and the latter, 
 as he told us to-day, lives in his lodge." 
 
 " Then all these three brothers were the 
 children of Wingenund ?" 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " And who was he ?" 
 
 " One of the old Lenape : first in council, 
 and foremost in the fight ! I remember him 
 well when I was a boy," said the guide, warm- 
 ing with his subject. " He taught me to fol- 
 low a trail, and to travel in the woods, with 
 no other guide than the wind, the stars, and 
 the bark of the trees; and before I was as 
 old as that boy, his grandson, he lent me his 
 rifle to shoot the first Dacotah as ever I 
 killed." 
 
 " What was the party, Baptiste?" said Re- 
 ginald, (anxious to keep the guide from the 
 subject of the Dacotahs,) " what party was it 
 that committed the atrocious murder upon the 
 Indians in time of peace ?" 
 
 " Why, Master Reginald, though you were
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 127 
 
 but a youngster, don't you remember hearing 
 that twelve or fourteen years ago, a party of 
 white men, led by Williamson, Harvey, and 
 some other rough chaps from the Kentucky 
 side, fell upon a village of friendly Indians on 
 the banks of Tuscarawas river, and murdered 
 all they found, man, woman, and child ? Some 
 of these poor Redskins had been made Chris- 
 tians, and were called Moravians; and their 
 village as was destroyed, was called by some 
 outlandish name, too long by half for me to 
 speak or to remember.* They had given over 
 their own nat'ral life of smoking, hunting, and 
 fighting, and did nothing but plant, and sow, 
 and pray ! And, after all, that 's the way 
 they was served, Master Reginald ! " 
 
 "Horrible and disgraceful cruelty!" said 
 the young man : and rather thinking aloud, 
 than addressing his companion, he added, " It 
 is no wonder that the Indians should receive 
 so unwillingly Christian precepts, when they 
 
 * The village was called Gnaden-Hiitten " tents," or 
 " cabins of grace."
 
 128 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 have such examples of Christian practice. I 
 am not surprised that War-Eagle should find 
 it hard to forgive such injuries."" 
 
 " And yet you are surprised, Master Re- 
 ginald," said the guide, in a deep voice, almost 
 hoarse from repressed emotion, " that / do 
 not forgive the Dacotah? Did he not burn 
 the log-hut where I was born and raised ? 
 Did he not murder those who gave me birth? 
 Did he not drive me out, a child, into the 
 woods, to live by berries, or wild fruits, or 
 what I could find or kill ? Is not my father's 
 scalp (not half revenged !) now hanging before 
 a Dacotah lodge ! Oh ! let me come but with- 
 in rifle range of the Throat-cutter,* and if he 
 comes off with a whole skin, I will forgive 
 him!" 
 
 Our hero, seeing that further discussion 
 would only increase an excitement which al- 
 ready mastered his companion's self-control, 
 
 * Every Indian tribe has its peculiar mark, or sign ; 
 among all the nations of the far- west, the Sioux, or Daco- 
 tahs, are designated by passing the hand across the throat, 
 as if cutting it.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 129 
 
 said to him kindly, " Well, Baptiste, it must be 
 owned that you have received from these people 
 deep, irreparable wrong ! You are a man, and 
 would not pay them in their own base coin, 
 by killing one of their squaws or children : 
 but if it is ever your fortune to meet them 
 in a fair stand-up fight, when I am with you, 
 then you shall see that I can stand by a friend, 
 and share in his just feelings of resentment." 
 
 " I know it I know it, Master Reginald," 
 said the guide, grasping the hand extended 
 to him ; and having now recovered an equa- 
 nimity which nothing but the Dacotah subject 
 ever disturbed, he added, 
 
 " If you and I were to take a summer-hunt 
 towards the mountains, with that light-limbed 
 War-Eagle, who has the eyes, and ears, and 
 spring of a painter,* we might p'raps bring in 
 a handsome load o' skins, and may be, pay off 
 the Throat-cutters an old debt or two." 
 
 " It is more likely than you imagine, Bap- 
 tiste, that we should make an excursion to the 
 West, this spring ; for my father told me the 
 * A Panther is so called by the western hunters.
 
 130 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 other day but see, there he is, with Lucy on 
 his arm, and Aunt Mary, and Wolf by her 
 side!" 
 
 As he said this, the young man bounded for- 
 ward, and in a moment was in the midst of 
 them, kissing his sister, shaking his father and 
 Aunt Mary affectionately by the hand, and pat- 
 ting Wolfs great shaggy head. 
 
 " Dear Reginald ! what has kept you so 
 long ? " said Lucy, reproachfully ; " where can 
 you have been ? Why, your clothes are all 
 soiled ; and see, papa," she added, turning 
 deadly pale ; " there is blood upon his hunting- 
 shirt and upon his cheek !" 
 
 " What a little coward art thou," said Regi- 
 nald, " to be the daughter of a soldier ! Why, 
 Lucy, the few drops of blood upon my clothes 
 must surely have come from your cheeks, which 
 are as pale as a magnolia flower ! Harkee, 
 Lucy, I must do something to drive the rosy 
 current back to its proper channel ; come here, 
 girl : " and bending her head aside, he whis- 
 pered something in her ear. 
 
 Never was the effect of magic more rapid,
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 131 
 
 or more potent; for in an instant the obedient 
 blood rushed to the fair girl's cheek, suffusing 
 at the same time her neck and temples with the 
 same glowing hue ; casting upon her brother a 
 look at once playful and appealing, she pinched 
 his ear between her tiny fingers till he fairly 
 begged pardon, and promised not to do so again. 
 
 As it was now evident that Reginald was not 
 much hurt, Lucy turned her eyes towards the 
 hunter, who approached, leading Nekimi still 
 snorting, prancing, and curvetting at the full 
 length of his laryette. " Baptiste," said the 
 Colonel, " where have you found that wild, un- 
 tamed animal ? " 
 
 " He belongs," said the hunter, " to Master 
 Reginald." 
 
 The Colonel looked to his son for an explana- 
 tion, who giving an arm to his sister, while 
 the Colonel escorted Aunt Mary, turned home- 
 wards, and narrated, as they went, the events 
 described in this and the foregoing chapter.
 
 132 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CONTAINING A SKETCH OF MOOSHANNE. REGINALD INTRO- 
 DUCES HIS SISTER TO THE TWO DELAWARES. 
 
 THE day following that on which the events 
 related in the preceding pages occurred, there 
 was an assemblage more than usually nume- 
 rous, gathered in and around the capacious 
 store of David Muir, in Marietta : immediately 
 in front of his door was a small party, who, from 
 their bearing and appearance, might be easily 
 recognised as leading persons in the little com- 
 munity. In the midst of them was a roughly- 
 dressed country lad, whose haggard appearance 
 indicated wretchedness or fatigue, or both ; near 
 the groupe, stood his horse reeking with sweat, 
 and showing that the messenger, for such he 
 was, had not spared the spurs on the road. 
 Many and eager were the questions put to him,
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 133 
 
 and the countenances of his auditors evinced 
 no ordinary degree of interest in his replies; 
 several women, and a dozen or two of boys and 
 girls, made repeated endeavours to penetrate 
 into this important circle ; and having contrived 
 to overhear a disjointed word, here and there, 
 such as "Indian," "scalped," "rifle," &c., they 
 slunk away, one by one, to spread it abroad 
 through the village, that a neighbouring settle- 
 ment had been attacked by a large body of In- 
 dians, armed with rifles and tomahawks; and 
 that every man, woman, and child, excepting 
 this messenger, who had escaped, was scalped ! 
 
 We will, however, introduce the reader into 
 the centre of the above-mentioned groupe, and 
 detail to him the substance of the news which 
 created so much excitement. 
 
 It appears that on the preceding day, two 
 brothers, named Hervey, were riding home- 
 ward, after attending a marriage, at a small 
 settlement twenty miles to the northward of 
 Marietta: they were not above half a mile in 
 advance of several other men, also returning 
 from the marriage ; both were armed with rifles,
 
 134 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 having been shooting at a target for a wager, 
 when on a sudden, a single Indian, uttering a 
 loud war-whoop, sprang from a thicket by the 
 road, and at one stroke of his war-club felled 
 the elder brother to the earth ; before the se- 
 cond could come up to his assistance, the same 
 Indian aimed a sweeping blow at his head with 
 the but-end of his rifle ; the younger Her- 
 vey warded the blow also with his rifle, but it 
 fell with such force that both barrels were 
 broken off from the stocks ; with the rapidity 
 of lightning, the Indian struck him heavily on 
 the head, and he fell stunned from his horse. 
 A few minutes afterwards, he recovered, and 
 found some of his friends standing over him; 
 his unfortunate brother lay dead and scalped 
 at his side; his horse and the Indian had dis- 
 appeared. Several young men dashed off im- 
 mediately in pursuit, and tracked the hoofs 
 successfully until the fugitive had entered the 
 hardy and stony bed of a rivulet falling into 
 the Muskingum ; hence all further search 
 proved unsuccessful, and they returned dis- 
 pirited to their companions.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 135 
 
 It was long since so daring an outrage had 
 been committed in the Territory; seldom was 
 it that the Redskins would attack white men in 
 open day, unless they were greatly superior in 
 numbers ; but for a single Indian to fall upon 
 two armed whites, killing one and leaving the 
 other for dead, almost within call of his friends, 
 was an instance of audacity to which the oldest 
 hunter could scarcely remember a parallel; it 
 was evident also that the savage had been aware 
 of a party of whites being at hand, otherwise 
 he would certainly have shot one brother be- 
 fore he attacked the other; but, avoiding the 
 discharge of his rifle, he had effected his pur- 
 pose with a war-club. 
 
 Another striking circumstance was the clear 
 evidence afforded that the killing of the elder 
 Hervey was an act of personal revenge ; because 
 the younger brother when knocked from his 
 horse had fallen helpless at the Indian's feet; 
 and the latter, purposely to shew that he had 
 spared his life and scalp, had struck a knife 
 through the lappet of his coat into the ground, 
 with force enough to bury it up to the haft.
 
 136 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 Four or five of the best hunters had recom- 
 menced the pursuit; and although they once 
 struck the trail of a man on foot evidently run- 
 ning from them, they were again baffled by the 
 river, and returned to the settlement 
 
 Such was the sum of the messenger's intelli- 
 gence, which caused, as can easily be imagined, 
 no little sensation in Marietta and the neigh- 
 bouring districts. 
 
 " I know some of the worst o 1 them Red- 
 skin devils," said a bulky young man, whose 
 countenance betrayed violent passions, and 
 strong symptoms of free indulgence in David 
 Muir's "fire-water;" "tell me what was this 
 Ingian like? how did Dick Hervey describe 
 him?" 
 
 " He hadn't over much time to look at him," 
 said the messenger, " afore he was sent to sleep ; 
 but he says he was a very tall powerful chap, 
 streaked over the face with black." 
 
 " Was he a young un or an old un ? " 
 
 " A young un, and active as a deer, or he 
 couldn't have knocked those two Herveys off
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 137 
 
 their critturs, as a man knocks off a corncob 
 with an ash plant." 
 
 " I wish I had him here," said the young 
 giant, shutting a hand as heavy and large as a 
 shoulder of mutton. " I 'd give him a real 
 Kentucky hug." 
 
 None of the bystanders seemed able to form 
 any guess as to who the perpetrator of this bold 
 outrage might be ; it was resolved, however, to 
 take all possible measures for his discovery : 
 a meeting of the principal inhabitants was con- 
 vened, a description of the Indian's person, and 
 of the marks by which Hervey's horse might 
 be recognised, was written, and several copies 
 thereof made, and forwarded to the nearest 
 posts and ferries ; at the same time a reward of 
 a hundred dollars was offered to any person 
 who should discover the offender, and a hundred 
 more for his seizure, dead or alive. 
 
 During the discussion of these and other 
 plans at the meeting, our old acquaintance 
 David Muir, who felt himself not to be one of 
 the least important persons present, said, " I 'm
 
 138 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 thinking, gentlemen, it would be as weel to 
 send a messenger out to Colonel Brandon, wi' 
 this intelligence ; he kens the Indians as weel 's 
 ony man in this country-side, mayhap he '11 gie 
 us some gude counsel ; and sirs," added David, 
 his grey eyes twinkling at his own sagacity, 
 " be sure ye dinna forget to tak the advice o" 
 yon lang-headed chiel, Battiste; if the Indian 
 deevil's o' this side the Mississippi, Battiste 
 will fin 1 him out, as sure as twa threes mak 
 sax." 
 
 This was one of the longest orations which 
 David had ever delivered in public; and both 
 his suggestions being approved, carried nem. 
 con., and the meeting dissolved, David returned 
 to his store with his hands thrust into his coat- 
 tail pockets, and his countenance big with the 
 consciousness of having rendered essential ser- 
 vice to the Territory. 
 
 We must now return to Reginald, who, on 
 the morning of this same day, rose with the 
 sun; and feeling himself nothing the worse 
 from his slight wounds, or from his diving ad- 
 venture, sallied forth to see how Baptiste had
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 139 
 
 provided for Nekimi's safety and comfort. All 
 means having failed to entice him into a stable, 
 the hunter had secured him firmly to an oak, 
 casting down for him abundance both of food 
 and litter. Reginald approached him, holding 
 in his hand some bread ; and having given the 
 sharp shrill cry (which to Lucy's great alarm 
 he had practised more than once in the house) 
 he was agreeably surprised to perceive that the 
 horse recognised it, and seemed less averse to 
 his caresses; having fed him, and carefully ob- 
 served all the rules laid down by War-Eagle for 
 gaining his affections, he returned to the house, 
 and began to collect the various articles which 
 he proposed to give to his Indian brother; 
 among these was a good Kentucky rifle, and a 
 handsome buck's- horn knife for the chief; he 
 selected also a light fowling-piece, which he 
 had used as a boy, and which he intended for 
 Wingenund ; to these he added several pounds 
 of powder, and a due proportion of lead ; he also 
 threw into the package a few beads and a large 
 cornelian ring, which had been long the occu- 
 pant of his dressing-case.
 
 140 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 When he had collected all these together he 
 gave them to Baptiste, desiring him to be ready 
 to accompany him to the rendezvous after 
 breakfast ; and having finished his preparations, 
 he knocked at the door of Lucy's room, to in- 
 quire whether she was ready to preside at the 
 morning meal. 
 
 "Come in, Reginald," she said; "if I am 
 rather late it is your fault ; for your adventures 
 of yesterday have driven sleep from my pillow ; 
 and even when I did fall asleep, I dreamt of 
 nothing but your Indian hero." 
 
 " Say you so, faithless one ? " replied Regi- 
 nald ; " I shall tell that to " 
 
 " Hush now, Reginald," said the blushing 
 girl, putting her little hand upon his mouth; 
 " did you not promise me yesterday that you 
 would not do so again?" 
 
 " Perhaps I did," said her brother ; " and I 
 will keep it if you will come down stairs and 
 give me a very good cup of coffee." 
 
 In the breakfast-room they were joined by 
 the Colonel and Aunt Mary; and while they 
 discuss that most comfortable of family meals,
 
 THE PRAIRIE BIRD. 141 
 
 we will give the reader a slight sketch of the 
 house in which they were assembled. 
 
 It was built of substantial brick of a dun red 
 colour, and had originally been a regular and 
 solid building of moderate dimensions ; but the 
 Colonel had added on one side a wing, contain- 
 ing a library and sitting-rooms for himself and 
 his son, while on the opposite side he had built 
 additional apartments for Aunt Mary, and a 
 small conservatory for Lucy. Thus the build- 
 ing had gradually assumed a straggling and 
 irregular shape, the back court being occupied 
 by stables, barns, and extensive farm-offices. 
 The site of the house was on a gentle elevation, 
 sloping down to a little brook, which wound its 
 bubbling way through a deep grove of oak, 
 maple, and sycamore, and circling round the 
 base of the hill, fell at the distance of half a 
 mile into the Muskingum river. The spot still 
 retained the name of " Mooshanne" (signifying 
 in the Delaware language Elk Creek) probably 
 owing to the little streamlet above-mentioned 
 having been a favourite resort of an animal 
 which the rifles of Reginald and Baptiste had
 
 142 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD* 
 
 rendered somewhat scarce in the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 ' We left the family assembled at the break- 
 fast-table, where the conversation still turned 
 upon the adventures of the preceding day. 
 
 " Reginald," said Lucy, " I should like to 
 go with you to-day, to see your Indian brother, 
 and that heroic boy." 
 
 " I fear," replied her brother, " it is farther 
 than you could easily walk; and, moreover, 
 Wingenund will scarcely accompany his chief; 
 he must be still too weak from his wound." 
 
 " Nay, Reginald ; if the distance is the only 
 difficulty, I can ride Snowdrop ; and if Winge- 
 nund does come, I will reward him for his 
 brave defence of my brother, by giving him 
 some little trinket, which he may take back 
 to his sister. You cannot refuse me now," 
 added she, in a coaxing tone, the power of 
 which over her brother was all but despotic. 
 
 " Of course I cannot, if you obtain Aunt 
 Mary's and the Colonel's permission," said Re 
 ginald, smiling. 
 
 Lucy met with no further opposition. Snow-
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 143 
 
 drop was ordered to be saddled; in a few 
 minutes the happy girl was equipped, and 
 provided with a coral necklace for the chief, 
 and a pretty broach, destined for her brother's 
 preserver. 
 
 The party now assembled before the door, 
 consisting of Reginald, Baptiste, and Lucy, 
 mounted on her favourite grey pony : our 
 hero slung his rifle across his shoulders ; the 
 sturdy woodsman, besides carrying his own 
 enormous axe, walked lightly under the two 
 rifles, and the other articles to be presented 
 to the chief, and Wolf played around them his 
 fantastic and unwieldy gambols. 
 
 Cheerful and smiling was the woodland 
 scenery through which they passed; the dew- 
 drops still glittered in the beams of the morn- 
 ing sun, and the air was impregnated with the 
 vernal fragrance arising from a thousand open- 
 ing buds and blossoms. 
 
 " See, Lucy," said her brother, as he walked 
 by her side, while the tact of the sturdy hunter 
 kept him a few paces in the rear, " see how 
 those mischievous squirrels hop and chatter
 
 144 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 upon the boughs ! They seem to know that 
 your presence is a protection to them." 
 
 " I often wonder, Reginald, how you can 
 shoot such playful and graceful animals ; you 
 who have taste enough to admire their beauty, 
 and who can find sport more worthy of your 
 rifle." 
 
 " It is childish sport, Lucy ; yet they are no 
 contemptible additions to the table, their furs 
 are useful, and there is some skill in shooting 
 them, that is, in shooting them properly." 
 
 " If I were a man, I would shoot nothing 
 but lions and tigers, buffaloes or bears ! " said 
 his sister. 
 
 " A pretty Amazon, truly ! " said Reginald, 
 laughing: ' yet, methinks, your thoughts are 
 not always so warlike. Come, Lucy, now that 
 we are alone (for our good Baptiste is out 
 of ear-shot), you need not pout or blush if I 
 ask you whether Ethelston is expected soon 
 to return ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I know not, Reginald," said his 
 sister, blushing in spite of his prohibition. 
 " His last letter to the Colonel mentioned
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 145 
 
 something about privateers, and the rupture 
 with France. Papa did not appear desirous 
 of communicating much upon the subject, so 
 I dropt it."" 
 
 " True," said Reginald ; " the French will 
 not soon forget or forgive the loss of their 
 fine frigate, the Insurgent, which was taken 
 the other day so gallantly by the Constellation. 
 I doubt not they will endeavour to cripple 
 our trade in the West Indies. Edward has 
 got a little craft that can run if she cannot 
 fight." 
 
 " I am sure Edward will never run if it 
 is possible to fight," said Lucy, a little piqued. 
 
 " There, again, you speak the truth : it is 
 because his courage is so tempered by his 
 judgment, that he is fit to be entrusted with 
 other lives and property than his own: if it 
 is not possible to fight, he will have sense and 
 skill enough to show the Frenchman his 
 heels. By-the-by, Lucy, which vessel is he 
 now commanding?" 
 
 Again there was a decided blush, and almost 
 a pout on Lucy's full lip, as she said, "You 
 
 VOL. i. H
 
 146 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 know, brother, that the ' Adventure,' and the 
 Pocahuntas,' are both in port, and the vessel 
 he is now on board of is the " 
 
 " Oh ! I remember," said Reginald, laugh- 
 ing ; " she was to have been called the * Lucy ;' 
 but Edward did not choose to hear that name 
 in every common sailor's and negro's mouth ; 
 so he altered it to the ' Pride of Ohio,' which 
 means in his vocabulary the same thing." 
 
 " I wish," said Lucy, " there was any Mary, 
 or Charlotte, or Catherine, or any other name 
 under the sun, about which I could tease you ! 
 Have a little patience, Mr. Reginald ; my 
 turn will come : you shall see what mercy I 
 will show you then !" 
 
 Thus did the brother and sister spar and 
 jest with each other until they reached the 
 spot appointed for the interview. As they 
 had arrived rather before the time, they ima- 
 gined that the War-Eagle had not yet come ; 
 but Baptiste, putting his finger to his mouth, 
 blew a long shrill signal-whistle, and in a 
 few minutes the chief appeared, accompanied 
 by Wingenund. As they emerged from the
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 147 
 
 forest, and approached, Reginald looked at his 
 sister to see the effect produced by their ap- 
 pearance ; for the chief was dressed in a manner 
 calculated to display his noble figure and coun- 
 tenance to better advantage than on the pre- 
 ceding day. His long black hair was parted 
 on his forehead, and gathered into a mass, 
 confined by a narrow fillet made from the fur 
 of the white weasel, and surmounted by an 
 Eagle's feather. It seemed that his vow of 
 war and revenge was for the time cancelled ; 
 for the lines of black paint which had disfigured 
 his visage were removed, and the command- 
 ing form and features were not marred by any 
 grotesque or fanciful attire. His brawny neck 
 was bare, and a portion of his bold, open chest 
 appeared beneath the light hunting shirt, which 
 was his only upper vesture. The ponderous 
 war-club was still at his girdle, but the scalp 
 had disappeared ; and his light, free step upon 
 the grass was like that of a young elk on a 
 prairie. 
 
 The dress of Wingenund was unaltered. 
 He was still very weak from the loss of blood, 
 
 H2
 
 148 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 and the pain consequent upon his wound; his 
 arm rested in a sling, made from the plaited 
 bark of elm ; and the air of languor cast over 
 his countenance by sleeplessness and suffering, 
 gave additional effect to the delicacy of his 
 features, and the deep dark lustre of his eyes. 
 
 " Our new brother is indeed a fine-looking 
 creature !" said Lucy, as War-Eagle drew near. 
 " What a haughty step and bearing he has ! 
 Wingenund looks too gentle to be an Indian ! " 
 
 " He is as brave as gentle, Lucy : look at 
 his arm ! " and, as she did look at the wounded 
 limb, she remembered that only yesterday it 
 had saved her brother's life. 
 
 The greeting between Reginald and the 
 two Indians was affectionate and cordial; he 
 then presented his sister to them both in turn. 
 The chieftain, placing his hand upon his heart, 
 fixed upon her that penetrating look with 
 which he had before scrutinized her brother; 
 it was not the bold stare of vulgarity admiring 
 beauty, but the child of nature reading after 
 his own fashion a page in her book.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 149 
 
 " War-Eagle," said Lucy to him, in her 
 own gentle tone of voice, " I know all that 
 passed yesterday, and you are now my bro- 
 ther!" 
 
 As she pronounced his name in English, a 
 gleam shot from his eye, and a perceptible and 
 sudden change came over his countenance; it 
 seemed produced by some unexpected asso- 
 ciation ; and Lucy was surprised at the deep 
 pathos of his voice, as he replied, " The Great 
 Spirit has made the sun to shine upon my 
 white brother's path ! His heart is brave ; 
 his arm is strong ; and his sister is like a flower 
 of the prairie ! her voice comes upon the 
 ear like a pleasant dream !" These last words 
 he ^ spoke rather to himself than addressing 
 those around him. 
 
 Lucy was not displeased with the Indian's 
 compliment, and was about to speak to Win- 
 genund, when Reginald said aloud, " Come, 
 let us withdraw among those thick trees ; we 
 have many things to talk about. 1 ' His proposal 
 being assented to, the whole party were soon
 
 150 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 reassembled under a branching oak, screened 
 from the public track by a thicket of rhodo- 
 dendron. 
 
 While they were effecting this manoeuvre, 
 the guide took an opportunity of interchanging 
 a few sentences with the War- Eagle ; the result 
 of which was apparently satisfactory to the 
 honest woodsman, for his face instantly resumed 
 its usual frank and careless expression. 
 
 " Lucy," said her brother, " as you have 
 thought proper to accompany me here, you 
 must play your part as Queen of the Feast. 
 I hope my brothers will value these baubles 
 more from your hands than from mine." Thus 
 instructed, Lucy opened the canvass package, 
 which the guide had hitherto carried, and pre- 
 senting the large rifle to the chief, she said 
 to him, 
 
 " War-Eagle, your brother and your white 
 sister give you this rifle, as a mark of their 
 friendship ; and with it they give you powder 
 and lead enough to shoot all the deer and 
 bears in the territory." 
 
 The chief placed her hand and her brother's
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 151 
 
 both upon his heart, saying, " War-Eagle 
 thanks you. May the Great Spirit love you 
 and guard your path ! " 
 
 He then poised and examined the rifle, 
 which was a piece of no ordinary beauty and 
 excellence, while Baptiste whispered to him, 
 in his own language, " It is loaded." 
 
 Lucy then turned to Wingenund, and pre- 
 senting him with the lighter fowling-piece, 
 said to him, " With this, a sister thanks Win- 
 genund for a brother's life." 
 
 The boy cast his eyes modestly to the 
 ground, saying, " Wingenund is too happy. 
 War-Eagle will tell his name to the braves 
 in council. The sister of Netis is good to 
 him ; Wingenund is ready to die ! " 
 
 " Indeed," said Lucy to the guide, " I fear 
 he is very faint and ill ; ask the chief how he 
 passed the night ! " 
 
 " Wingenund is not ill," said the boy, with a 
 smile ; " he is very happy." 
 
 Meanwhile, Baptiste having conferred with 
 the chief, replied, " Why, Miss Lucy, the 
 wound was a very bad 'un, and he lost a powev
 
 152 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 o'blood ; once or twice in the night, War-Eagle 
 thought he might not get over it; but he is 
 better now, and though unable to bear much 
 fatigue, he's a hardy young plant, and will take 
 as much killing as an eel." 
 
 " Come, Baptiste," said Reginald ; " I know 
 you put something to eat and drink into that 
 sack with the ammunition : War- Eagle must 
 feast with us to-day." 
 
 The guide, opening his capacious wallet, 
 drew from it a venison pasty, some bread, and 
 a couple of bottles of Madeira. Lucy declined 
 taking more than a crust of bread, merely 
 tasting the wine to the health of the hunters. 
 Wingenund was equally abstemious, and sat a 
 little apart with his new sister; while Reginald, 
 Baptiste, and the chief made a more substan- 
 tial luncheon. The latter being asked, by 
 Reginald, how he liked the wine, replied, care- 
 lessly, " Good." But it was evident that he 
 drank it rather from courtesy than because it 
 pleased his palate. 
 
 Reginald now desired the guide to speak to 
 the War-Eagle in his own tongue, and to gather
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 153 
 
 from him all the requisite particulars for his 
 joining the Delawares in their summer-hunt 
 beyond the Mississippi. He had long been 
 anxious to visit some of those scenes which 
 Baptiste had so often described ; and his father 
 having expressed a wish that he should go to 
 St. Louis on some business connected with his 
 investments in the fur-trade, he thought that 
 so fair an opportunity ought not to be lost. 
 
 While the guide and the chief conversed in 
 a low and earnest tone of voice, and Reginald 
 listened with an idle curiosity, imagining now 
 and then that he could catch their meaning, 
 Lucy became much interested in her conversa- 
 tion with Wingenund ; she was surprised at his 
 intelligence and proficiency in English, and was 
 touched by the melancholy expression of his 
 countenance and of his deep lustrous eyes. As 
 she was speaking, he suddenly and impressively 
 placed his finger on her arm, then raised it to 
 his own lips, as a sign to her to be silent, then 
 creeping two or three yards from the party, he 
 threw himself at full length on the grass with 
 his ear to the ground. Lucy listened atten- 
 
 H5
 
 154 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 tively, but could hear nothing but the gentle 
 breeze stirring the leaves, and the regular 
 sound of Snowdrop's teeth as he nibbled the 
 young grass. 
 
 The three hunters were still busy with their 
 arrangements for the summer, when Winge- 
 nund, resuming his sitting posture, uttered an 
 almost imperceptible sound, like the hiss of a 
 small serpent; instantly, as if by instinct, the 
 War- Eagle grasped his rifle, and looked in- 
 quiringly on the intelligent countenance of the 
 boy. 
 
 " Wingenund hears men and horses," was the 
 short reply. 
 
 Baptiste strained his practised ears to the ut- 
 most, as did Reginald, without success. Even 
 War-Eagle seemed for a moment unable to 
 catch the sound he then whispered to Regi- 
 nald, " Wingenund speaks truth, there are men 
 not a few." 
 
 Several minutes elapsed before our hero and 
 the guide could distinguish the tramp of horses 
 and the voices of men speaking angrily. 
 
 Our hero- and his party being effectually
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 155 
 
 screened from view by the dense laurel* thicket, 
 could listen unobserved to the conversation of 
 those who were approaching ; and the following 
 expressions, delivered in a loud and authorita- 
 tive tone, at once attracted and absorbed their 
 attention : " It is impossible that the fellow 
 should escape, we have scouts out in every 
 direction. There can be no doubt that the 
 camp which we have just found in the woods 
 is the one where he passed the night with 
 other Redskins, for the embers are still warm. 
 Dickenson and Brown are gone south towards 
 Marietta ; Henderson and his party are tracking 
 the prairies to the north; it is impossible he 
 should long escape; and young Hervey thinks 
 he should know him anywhere ! " 
 
 While 'the person who appeared to be the 
 leader of the unseen party was thus speaking, 
 War-Eagle whispered a few sentences to Winge- 
 nund, to which the intelligent youth only re- 
 plied by a look ; the chief then conversed apart, 
 in a low earnest voice, with the guide, who 
 
 * In the Western States, the rhododendron is generally 
 called the laurel.
 
 156 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 ended by grasping his hand, and saying, in the 
 Delaware tongue, " Grande- Hache will do it at 
 the risk of his life." 
 
 The chief appeared satisfied, and rising with 
 calm dignity, he tightened the belt at his waist, 
 to which he hung his newly-acquired knife and 
 ammunition ; and throwing his rifle into the 
 hollow of his left arm, he said to Reginald, 
 " War-Eagle must leave his brother Netis ; 
 Grande- Hache will tell him all; before two 
 moons have passed, Netis will come to hunt 
 the bison with his brother ; and he shall smoke 
 with the braves of the Lenape." 
 
 "He will," replied Reginald, warmly press- 
 ing his hand, and at the same time passing the 
 cornelian ring upon one of the fingers of the 
 chief. If the Great Spirit gives him life, he 
 will come and hunt, and smoke with his Lenape 
 brother." 
 
 The chief, now turning to Lucy, drew from 
 his head the Eagle feather which was passed 
 through his hair, and which was quaintly 
 stained, and ornamented with porcupine quills; 
 offering it gracefully to her, he said, in a voice
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 157 
 
 of musical gentleness, " War- Eagle wishes hap- 
 piness to the 'pale flower of Mooshanne;' 
 many braves have tried to pluck this feather 
 from his head ; no Dacotah nor Pawnee has 
 touched it and lived ! The sister of Netis may 
 fasten it in her hair let none but a brave 
 warrior raise his eyes to it there." 
 
 "Thank you, dear War-Eagle," said Lucy, 
 kindly, " I promise you it shall never be touched 
 by an unworthy hand; and do you take this 
 string of red beads," giving him at the same 
 time a coral necklace, " and wear it for the 
 sake of your white sister." 
 
 The chief received this gift with evident 
 pleasure ; and waving his hand in adieu, whis- 
 pering at the same time one parting word to 
 Wingenund, he strode leisurely away, and was 
 soon lost in the deep glades of the forest.
 
 158 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HOW REGINALD BRANDON RETURNED TO MOOSHANNE WITH 
 HIS SISTER, ACCOMPANIED BY WINGENUND J AND WHAT 
 BEFEL THEM ON THE ROAD. 
 
 LUCY BRANDON was not a little surprised at 
 the chief's sudden departure, and with the 
 frankness natural to her character, inquired of 
 her brother whether he could explain its cause ; 
 Reginald appeared either unable or 'unwilling 
 to do so ; and an appeal to the guide produced 
 only the following unsatisfactory reply : 
 
 " War-Eagle is like the bird after which he 's 
 called it aint easy to explain or to follow his 
 flight." 
 
 Wingenund remained silent, but every now 
 and then he fixed his bright and speaking eyes 
 upon Lucy, as if he would divine her thoughts. 
 That young lady, though at a loss to account 
 for her embarrassment, entertained a fear that
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 159 
 
 all was not right, and proposed to her brother 
 to return to Mooshanne. 
 
 Snowdrop was soon caught, and the little 
 party moved leisurely homeward, Reginald and 
 the guide leading the way, and Wingenund 
 walking by the side of Lucy's pony ; after 
 riding a few minutes, she recovered her spirits, 
 and remembering that there was no foundation 
 for any surmises of evil, she resumed the con- 
 versation with her young companion, which the 
 chief's departure had interrupted. "Tell me, 
 Wingenund, who is the ' Black Father/ of 
 whom you speak ? " 
 
 " He is very good," said the boy, seriously ; 
 " He talks with the Great Spirit ; and he tells 
 us all that the Great Spirit has done ; how 
 He made the earth, and the water; and how 
 He punishes bad men, and makes good men 
 happy." 
 
 " He is a white man, then ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " He is," replied the lad ; " but though he 
 is a white man, he always speaks truth, and 
 does good, and drinks no fire-water, and is 
 never angry."
 
 160 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 What a humiliating reflection is it, thought 
 Lucy to herself, that in the mind of this young 
 savage, the idea of white men is naturally asso- 
 ciated with drunkenness and strife ! " Tell me, 
 Wingenund," she continued, " is the ' Black 
 Father 'old?" 
 
 " Many winters have passed over his head, 
 and their snow rests upon his hair." 
 
 " Does he live with you always?" 
 
 " He comes and he goes, like the sunshine 
 and the rain; he is always welcome; and the 
 Lenape love him." 
 
 " Can he speak your tongue well ? " 
 
 " He speaks many tongues, and tries to make 
 peace between the tribes, but he loves the Le- 
 nape, and he teaches 'the Prairie- bird' to talk 
 with the Great Spirit." 
 
 " Does your sister speak to the Black Father 
 in her own tongue?" 
 
 " Sometimes, and sometimes in the English ; 
 but often in a strange tongue, written on a great 
 book. The Black Father reads it, and the 
 Prairie-bird opens her ears, and looks on his 
 face, and loves his words ; and then she tells
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 161 
 
 them all to me. But Wingenund is a child 
 of the Lenape he cannot understand these 
 things ! " 
 
 " You will understand them," said Lucy, 
 kindly, " if you only have patience ; you know," 
 she added, smiling, "your sister understands 
 them, and she is a Lenape too ! " 
 
 " Yes," said the boy ; " but nobody is like 
 Prairie-bird." 
 
 " She must, indeed, be a remarkable person," 
 said Lucy, humouring her young companion's 
 fancy; still, as you have the same father and 
 mother, and the same blood, whatever she 
 learns, you can learn too." 
 
 "I have no father or mother," said Winge- 
 nund, sadly, and he added, in a mysterious 
 whisper, drawing near to Lucy, " Prairie-bird 
 never had a father or mother." 
 
 " Never had a father or mother ! " repeated 
 Lucy, as the painful thought occurred to her, 
 that poor Wingenund was deranged. 
 
 " Never," said the boy, in the same tone ; 
 " she came from there" pointing, as he spoke, 
 towards the northwest quarter of the heaven.
 
 162 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 " How melancholy is it," said Lucy to her- 
 self, " to think that this brave, amiable boy 
 should be so afflicted ! that so intelligent and 
 quick a mind should be like a lyre with a 
 broken string ! Still," thought she, " I will 
 endeavour to understand his meaning, and to 
 undeceive him." 
 
 " Dear Wingenund, you are mistaken your 
 sister had the same father and mother as your- 
 self; she may have learnt much, and may un- 
 derstand things strange to you, but you might 
 learn them too." 
 
 " Wingenund's father and mother are dead," 
 said the boy, in a voice of deep and suppressed 
 emotion ; " he will not tell you how they died, 
 for it makes his heart throb and his eyes burn ; 
 but you are good to him, and shall not see his 
 anger. Prairie-bird never had a father; the 
 Great Spirit gave her to the Lenape." 
 
 While Lucy was musing how she should en- 
 deavour to dispel this strange delusion which 
 seemed to have taken such firm hold of her 
 young companion's mind, Reginald and Bap- 
 tiste halted, and the latter said, " You see that
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 163 
 
 party approaching; they may put some trou- 
 blesome questions, leave me to answer them. 
 Wingenund, you know what I mean ?" 
 
 " Wingenund does not understand English," 
 said the boy, a slight smile of irony lurking in 
 the corner of his mouth. 
 
 The approaching party consisted of eight or 
 ten men, all armed with rifles, excepting two, 
 who were mounted, and who carried cutlasses 
 and large horse-pistols; among the pedestrians 
 towered the gigantic form of young Mike Smith, 
 who has already been presented to the reader be- 
 fore the store of David Muir, in Marietta ; and 
 among the horsemen was the younger Hervey, 
 leading his friends to scour the whole country 
 in search of the slayer of his brother; they 
 were all in a high state of excitement; and 
 despite the cool and unmoved demeanour of 
 the guide, he was not without apprehension 
 that they might desire to wreak their vengeance 
 on Wingenund. 
 
 " Ha ! Baptiste," said Hervey, grasping the 
 guide's hand ; " you are the very man we are 
 in search of; we have already been to the
 
 164 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 colonel's, and he told us we should find you 
 with his son, and with Miss Brandon, in this 
 quarter. We want your assistance, man, and 
 that speedily, too." 
 
 "How can I serve you?" said the guide; 
 " what is the matter ? you seem bent on a 
 hunt." 
 
 " A hunt?" exclaimed Hervey, " yes, a hunt 
 of a Red-skin devil! Harkee, Baptiste!" and 
 stooping from his horse, he repeated to the 
 guide in a low voice, but clear enough to be 
 heard by all present, the circumstances attend- 
 ing his brother's death. 
 
 " A daring act, indeed," said the guide 
 musing ; " but could not you follow the trail 
 while it was fresh yesterday?" 
 
 " We followed it to a creek leading to the 
 Muskingum, and there we lost it." 
 
 " Can you describe the appearance of the 
 Indian?" inquired the guide. 
 
 " A tall, handsome fellow, as straight as a 
 poplar, and with a leap like a painter, so he 
 seemed; but d n him, he gave me such a
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 165 
 
 knock on the head, that my eyes swam for five 
 minutes." 
 
 A cold shudder ran through Lucy's limbs as, 
 comparing this slight sketch of War-Eagle with 
 his sudden departure and the guide's caution to 
 Wmgenund, she recognised in the chief the 
 object of their search : glancing her eye timidly 
 at Wingenund, she could read on his counte- 
 nance no trace of uneasiness; he was playing 
 with Snowdrop's mane ; his gun resting on the 
 ground, and he himself apparently unconscious 
 of what was passing. 
 
 After a minute's reflection, the guide con- 
 tinued : " You say that the Indian's rifle was 
 broken in half; did you notice anything about 
 it?" 
 
 " Nothing : it was a strong coarse piece ; 
 we have brought the stock with us ; here 
 it is," he added, calling up one of his party to 
 whom it had been entrusted. 
 
 The guide took it in his hand, and at the 
 first glance detected the imitation of a feather, 
 roughly but distinctly cut with a knife ; his own
 
 166 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 suspicions were at once confirmed, although his 
 countenance betrayed no change of expression ; 
 but Mike Smith, who had been looking over 
 his shoulder, had also observed the marks of 
 the feather, and noticed it immediately aloud, 
 adding, " Come, Baptiste, you know all the 
 Ingian marks between Alleghany and the Mis- 
 souri; what Red-skin has this belonged to?" 
 
 " Mike," said the guide coolly, " a man's 
 tongue must shoot far and true to hit such a 
 mark as that." 
 
 " And yet, Baptiste, if I'd been as long at 
 the guiding and trapping as you, I think I'd a' 
 know'd something about it." 
 
 " Ay, that's the way of it," replied Baptiste; 
 " you young "uns always think you can shave a 
 hog with a horn spoon ! 1 'spose Master Mike 
 you can tell a buzzard from a mocking-bird; 
 but if I was to show you a feather, and ask you 
 what buzzard it belonged to, the answer might 
 not be easy to find." 
 
 "You're an old fool," growled Mike angrily; 
 and he added as his eye rested suddenly upon 
 Wingenund, " what cub is that standing by
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 167 
 
 Miss's white pony? we'll see if he knows this 
 mark. Come here, you devil's brat." 
 
 Not a muscle in the boy's face betrayed his 
 consciousness that he was addressed. 
 
 " Come here, you young Redskin ! " shouted 
 Mike yet more angrily, " or I'll sharpen your 
 movements with the point of my knife." 
 
 Reginald's fiery temper was ill calculated to 
 brook the young backwoods-man's coarse and 
 violent language; placing himself directly be- 
 tween him and Wingenund, he said to the 
 former in a stern and determined tone, " Mas- 
 ter Smith, you forget yourself; that boy is one 
 of my company, and is not to be exposed either 
 to insult or injury." 
 
 " Here's a pretty coil about a young Red- 
 skin," said Mike, trying to conceal his anger 
 under a forced laugh ; " how do we know that 
 he ain't a brother or a son of the Ingian we're 
 in search of; s' blood, if we could find out 
 that he was, we 'd tar him, and burn him over a 
 slow fire !" 
 
 " I tell you again," said Reginald, " that he 
 is guilty of no crime ; that he saved my life yes-
 
 168 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 terday at the risk of his own, and that while I 
 live neither you nor any of your party shall 
 touch a hair of his head." 
 
 Baptiste fearing the result of more angry 
 words, and moved by an appealing look from 
 Miss Brandon, now interposed, and laying 
 his hand on Smith's shoulder, said, " Come, 
 Master Mike, there is no use in threatening 
 the young Red-skin when you see that he does 
 not understand a word that you say; tell me 
 what you wish to inquire of him, and I will ask 
 him in his own tongue." 
 
 " His tongue be d d," said Mike : " I '11 
 wager a hat against a gallon of David Muir's 
 best, that the brat knows English as well as 
 you or I, although he seems to have nothing to 
 do but to count the tassels on the edge of his 
 shirt. I'll shew you without hurting him," 
 he added in a lower tone, " that I 'm not far 
 wrong." 
 
 " You swear not to injure him?" said Regi- 
 nald, who overheard what passed. 
 
 " I do," said Mike ; " I only want to show 
 you that he can't make a fool of Mike Smith."
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 169 
 
 Here he called up one of the men from the 
 rear; and having whispered something in his 
 ear, he said in a loud and distinct tone of voice, 
 " Jack, we have found out that this Indian cub 
 belongs to the party, one of whom murdered 
 poor Hervey. Life for life is the law of the 
 backwoods : do you step a little on one side ; 
 I will count four, and when I come to the four, 
 split me the young rascal's head, either with a 
 bullet or with your axe." 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, as you are men," ex- 
 claimed Lucy in an agony, " spare him ! " 
 
 " Peace, Miss Brandon," said Mike ; " your 
 brother will explain to you that it must be so." 
 
 The guide would fain have whispered a 
 word to the boy, but he was too closely 
 watched by Smith, and he was obliged to trust 
 to Wingenund's nerves and intelligence. 
 
 " Are you ready, Jack?" said Mike audibly. 
 
 " Yes ! " and he counted slowly, pausing be- 
 tween each number : one two three ! At the 
 pronunciation of this last word Wingenund, 
 whose countenance had not betrayed by the 
 movement of a muscle, or by the expression of a 
 
 VOL. i. I
 
 170 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 single feature the slightest interest in what was 
 passing, amused himself by patting the great 
 rough head which Wolf rubbed against his 
 hand, as if totally unconscious that the deadly 
 weapon was raised, and that the next word 
 from the hunter's lips was to be his death 
 warrant. 
 
 " D n it, you are right after all, Baptiste," 
 said Mike Smith ; " the brat certainly does not 
 understand us, or he'd have pricked his ears 
 when I came to number three ; so, do you ask 
 him in his own lingo if he knows that mark 
 on the rifle-butt, arid can tell us to what Red- 
 skin tribe it belongs?" 
 
 The guide now addressed a few words to 
 Wingenund in the Delaware tongue, while 
 Reginald and Lucy interchanged a glance of 
 wonder and admiration at the boy's sagacity 
 and courage. 
 
 " He tells me that he has seen this mark 
 before," said the guide. 
 
 " Has he?" replied Mike; "ask him whether 
 it is that of a Shawnee, or a Wyandot; of an 
 Iroquois or of a Delaware?" 
 
 After again conferring with Wingenund, the
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 171 
 
 guide muttered to himself, " this youngster 
 won't tell a lie to keep a bullet from his brain 
 or a halter from his neck ; I must act for him. 
 He added in a louder tone, " Mike, a word 
 with you: it is not unlikely that the Ingian 
 your 're in search of is the same who gave the 
 boy that wound, and who tried to kill Master 
 Reginald yesterday; if it is so, he wants no 
 more punishing ; he has his allowance already." 
 
 " How so?" said Mike. 
 
 " He is dead, man, killed on the spot. Do 
 you and Hervey meet me here to-morrow an 
 hour before noon ; I will take you to the place 
 where the body is buried, and you shall judge 
 for yourselves whether it is that of the man you 
 seek." 
 
 " It 's a bargain," said Mike, " we '11 come 
 to the time ; now, lads, forward to Hervey's 
 Clearing. Let "s have a merry supper to-night ; 
 and to-morrow, if the guide shows us the car- 
 case of this rascal, why we can't hurt that 
 much ; but we '11 pay off a long score one day 
 or other with some of the Red-skins. Sorry to 
 have kept you waitin' Miss, and hope we 
 haven't scared you," said the rough fellow, 
 
 i 2
 
 172 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 making, as he drew off his party, an awkward 
 attempt at a parting bow to Lucy. 
 
 " That was a clever turn of Baptiste's," said 
 Reginald in a low voice to his sister ; " he 
 has made them believe that the cowardly 
 knave who tried to stab me was the perpe- 
 trator of the daring outrage which they seek 
 to avenge ! " 
 
 " And was it really War-Eagle?" said Lucy 
 with a slight shudder, " he who looks so noble 
 and so gentle, was it he who did it?" 
 
 " I believe so," said Reginald. 
 
 " But is it not wrong in us to be friends 
 with him, and to aid his escape?" 
 
 " Indeed," replied her brother, " it admits 
 of doubt; let us ask the guide, he will speak 
 now without reserve;" and accordingly Regi- 
 nald repeated to Baptiste the question and his 
 sister's scruples. 
 
 " Why you see, miss," said the wary hunter, 
 " there is no proof that War-Eagle did it, 
 though I confess it was too bold a deed to have 
 been done by that dog of a Wyandot ; but I will 
 tell you, miss," he added, with increasing energy 
 and vehemence, " IF the War-Eagle did it, you
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 173 
 
 will yourself, when you know all, confess that 
 he did it nobly, and that he deserves no punish- 
 ment from man. That elder Hervey was one of 
 the blood-thirsty band by whom the harmless 
 Christian Indians* were murdered; and it is be- 
 lieved that it was by his own hand that Winge- 
 nund's father fell ; if War-Eagle revenged this 
 cruel murder, and yet spared the life of the 
 younger brother when lying helpless at his feet, 
 who shall dare to blame him, or move a foot in 
 his pursuit ? " 
 
 " He speaks the truth, Lucy," said her bro- 
 ther ; " according to the rules by which retalia- 
 tion is practised by mankind, War-Eagle would 
 have been justified in punishing with death 
 such an act of unprovoked atrocity ; but it is a 
 dangerous subject to discuss: you had better 
 forget all you have heard about it ; and in case 
 of further inquiries being made in your pre- 
 sence, imitate the happy unconsciousness lately 
 displayed by Wingenund." 
 
 " Come here, my dear young brother," he 
 added in a kindly tone, " and tell us, did you 
 
 * Alluding again to the massacre of the Moravian Dela- 
 wares at " Gnadenhutten."
 
 174 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 really think that hot-headed chap was going to 
 
 shoot you when he counted number three? 11 
 
 " No ! " said the boy with a scornful smile. 
 
 " And why not ? for he 's a violent and angry 
 man." 
 
 " He dared not," was the reply. 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " He is a fool ! 11 said the boy in the same 
 scornful tone ; " a fool scarcely fit to frighten 
 the fawn of an antelope ! if he had touched me 
 or attempted to shoot me, Netis and Grande- 
 Hache would have killed him immediately." 
 
 " You are right, my young brave," said Regi- 
 nald, " he dared not hurt you ; see, dear Lucy,'" 
 he added apart to his sister, " what a ripe judg- 
 ment, what an heroic spirit, what nerves of iron, 
 are found in the slender frame of this wounded 
 boy, exhausted by fatigue and suffering ! " 
 
 " We will at least give him a hearty supper,"" 
 said Lucy, " and an affectionate welcome to 
 our home." 
 
 Wingenund thanked her with his dark eyes, 
 and the little party proceeded leisurely, without 
 incident or interruption, to Mooshanne.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 175 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN \VIIICH THE READER IS UNCEREMONIOUSLY TRANSPORTED TO 
 ANOTHER ELEMENT IN COMPANY WITH ETHELSTON ; THE LAT- 
 TER IS LEFT IN A DISAGREEABLE PREDICAMENT. 
 
 IT is time that we should now turn our atten- 
 tion to Ethelston, who is much too important a 
 personage in our narrative to be so long neglec- 
 ted, and respecting whose safety Lucy began to 
 feel the jealous anxiety of love ; for " The Pride 
 of Ohio" had been long expected in Marietta, and 
 several French frigates and corvettes were report- 
 ed to be cruizing among the West Indian Islands, 
 actively engaged in revenging upon American com- 
 merce the loss which they had sustained in the 
 Insurgente. We shall soon see that Lucy's alarm 
 was not altogether groundless, and that her lover's 
 prolonged absence was not without sufficient cause. 
 About a month preceding the occurrences detailed 
 in the last chapter, Ethelston, having landed his 
 merchandise in safety at Port Royal, and having
 
 176 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 taken on board a small cargo of sugar and coffee, 
 prepared to return to New Orleans ; he had heard 
 of the French men of war cruising in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and prudently resolved to risk as little 
 as possible on this trip; he took therefore secu- 
 rities for a great portion of the amount due to" 
 him, which he left in the charge of the vessel's 
 consignees, and conveyed on board only a suffi- 
 cient cargo to put The Pride of Ohio in perfect 
 sailing trim, and to give her a fair chance of escape 
 in case she were chased by an enemy; his little 
 brig was well rigged and manned, and he felt con- 
 fident that few, if any, of the French cruisers 
 would match her for speed. His mate or sailing- 
 master was Gregson, a hardy weather-beaten old 
 sailor, who had served on board of every kind of 
 craft, from a man-of-war to a fishing- cobble, and 
 knew every headland, reef, and current in that 
 dangerous sea, as well as a Liverpool pilot knows 
 the banks and shoals in the mouth of the Mersey. 
 The Pride of Ohio mounted three guns : two eigh- 
 teen pound carronades, and one long nine pound- 
 er; ten stout fellows and a black cook completed 
 her complement ; the last-mentioned person de- 
 serves special notice, as he was a character strange- 
 ly formed by the alternations of fortune which he 
 had seen. A native of the interior of western
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 177 
 
 Africa, he had, in early life, been chosen on account 
 of his extraordinary strength and courage, a chief 
 of the Lucumi tribe to which he belonged; but 
 having been unfortunately made a prisoner, he 
 was taken down to the coast and sold to a slaver ; 
 thence he had been conveyed to some of the 
 Spanish Islands, and afterwards to Virginia, where 
 he had come into the possession of Colonel Bran- 
 don, who finding him possessed of many good quali- 
 ties, and of a sagacity very rare among his country- 
 men, had offered him his liberty when he moved to 
 Ohio ; but Cupid (for so was the negro called) had 
 grown so much attached to his master, that he 
 begged to be allowed to remain in his service, and 
 from one employment to another, had now become 
 cook and steward on board The Pride of Ohio. 
 In frame he was Herculean ; and though he rarely 
 exerted his strength, he had shown on various 
 occasions that it was nearly, if not quite equal to 
 that of any other two men in the vessel. He 
 spoke but little, and was sullen and reserved in 
 his manners; but as he never disobeyed orders, 
 and never was guilty of aggression or violence, 
 Cupid was, upon the whole, a favourite with the 
 crew. 
 
 To Ethelston he was invaluable; for he was 
 always at his post, was scrupulously honest with
 
 178 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 respect to money or stores placed under his charge, 
 and on more than one occasion his shrewdness 
 and readiness had surprised his young comman- 
 der. The Captain (for so was Ethelston called 
 on board) always treated Cupid kindly, and never 
 allowed him to be made the subject of those jeers 
 and insults to which free negroes in the States 
 are usually exposed; on this account the cook, 
 who never forgot that he had been a warrior, 
 entertained towards him the warmest feelings of 
 attachment and gratitude. 
 
 How or where he had obtained the name he 
 bore, none seemed to know ; and Ethelston re- 
 membered having heard that when first he came 
 into Colonel Brandon's possession, and was asked 
 his name, he had sullenly replied, " The name I 
 once had is at home : a slave has neither name 
 nor home !" A terrible gash across his forehead 
 and left cheek, (received, probably, in the war 
 when he was captured,) had disfigured a coun- 
 tenance that had been originally expressive of 
 haughtiness and determination, and had, perhaps, 
 led the slave-dealer to bestow upon him in irony 
 the name by which he was now called. 
 
 The Pride of Ohio had made good two days of 
 her homeward passage, when, in endeavouring to 
 round a point on the southern coast of Cuba,
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 179 
 
 Ethelston descried a ship some miles to windward, 
 and a-head, which a careful examination through 
 his glass convinced him was a French frigate. 
 His mate being below at the time, he sent for 
 him on deck, anxious to see whether the expe- 
 rienced sailor's observation would confirm his 
 opinion. As soon as he appeared, handing him 
 the glass, he said, " Gregson, see what you make 
 of that fellow on our larboard bow." 
 
 "Make of her!" said the mate; "the devil 
 take him that made her, and him that brought 
 her athwart us, say I, captain ! She's a French- 
 man ; and though we can't well see her hull yet, I 
 doubt it won't be long before we see her row of 
 teeth. 1 ' 
 
 " I thought so myself," said Ethelston. " We 
 must hold our course steady ; and if we can round 
 the point, we may then bear away, and show her 
 a pair of heels. Turn the hands up, Gregson; 
 trim the sails, and stand by for a run. Put Har- 
 rison at the helm ; he can keep her a point nearer 
 than that youngster." 
 
 " Ay, ay, sir ! " was the reply ; and having ex- 
 ecuted the order, he returned to Ethelston, who 
 was still sweeping the southern horizon with his 
 glass, and examining the strange ship, whose hull 
 was now distinctly visible.
 
 180 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 The young man's countenance wore a grave 
 expression, as, returning the glass to his mate, he 
 said, " Gregson, it is, as we supposed, a French 
 frigate. We may, perhaps, creep along under the 
 shore without his noticing our small craft." 
 
 The old seaman riveted the glass upon the 
 stranger, as if he wished to count every sail and 
 plank. During the examination, he grunted two 
 or three inarticulate ejaculations, in unison with 
 which his hard features underwent various con- 
 tortions; and his young commander waited with 
 no little impatience for what he called his " over- 
 hauling." 
 
 " She 's neither more nor less than that infernal 
 ' Epervier,' commanded by L'Estrange. She's 
 one of the fastest sailers in their navy ; and as for 
 our creeping past her without being seen, he 's the 
 wrong sort o' man for that fun : herring or whale, 
 all 1 s fish for his net ! " 
 
 " I have often heard of him," said Ethelston : 
 " they say he 's a fine fellow." 
 
 " That he is, to give the devil his due, as jolly 
 an old dog as ever lived, and much too good a 
 seaman for a Mounseer. Look 'ee there, captain," 
 added he, after another squint through the glass ; 
 " he 's altering his course already two or three
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 181 
 
 points free, and the reefs shaken out o 1 the tops'ls. 
 We shall hear from him soon." 
 
 " Can we give him the slip by bearing up for 
 the eastern passage ? We should then show him 
 our tail ; and a stern chase is a long one." 
 
 " We might try if you wish it, captain ; but it 
 blows fresh, and she won't be very fond of this 
 lee shore, I think, if you allow me to advise, 
 we'd better hug it; take the chance of a long 
 shot in rounding that headland, and then run for 
 the inner channel behind the Isle of Pines. He '11 
 not be after following us there ; or, if he does, the 
 frigate's keel will chance to scrape acquaintance 
 with a reef." 
 
 " You are right, Gregson," said Ethelston. 
 " The Pride may fetch that point on this tack. 
 Keep a close luff, Harrison." 
 
 " Luff it is, sir," was the reply, as Ethelston 
 went below to consult his chart, and to prepare 
 himself for entering the intricate channel between 
 the Isla de Pinos and the main island. 
 
 The gallant little brig well sustained her high 
 character as a sailer, and dashed her bows fear- 
 lessly through the foaming waves, under a press 
 of canvass such as few vessels of her tonnage could 
 have borne. The breeze was freshening, and the
 
 182 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 frigate now shaped her course with the evident 
 intention of cutting off the chase from rounding 
 the headland before mentioned. 
 
 The men on board the brig were now clustered 
 forward, anxiously debating the probable issue; 
 while Cupid steamed away in his caboose, pre- 
 paring the dinner as quietly as if there had been 
 no frigate to windward, nor a rock-bound shore 
 to leeward; but though he seemed thus busied 
 in his usual avocations, he cast every now and 
 then his dark eye upon the Epervier ; and few on 
 board could estimate better than himself the dan- 
 ger of their situation. 
 
 Ethelston having finished a careful examination 
 of his chart, now came on deck, and a single glance 
 sufficed to show him that he could not round the 
 point a-head without coming within range of the 
 frigate's guns: but the brig had kept her offing, 
 and he had little doubt of her making good her 
 escape, unless she were crippled by a shot from 
 the enemy. 
 
 The Epervier now hoisted her colours for the 
 brig to heave-to ; and that being disregarded, she 
 fired a shot, which fell short of her bows. Find- 
 ing that no notice was taken of this, L'Estrange 
 ordered his first lieutenant to fire at the saucy 
 brig in good earnest, to bring her to her senses.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 18S 
 
 Fortunately for the latter, there was a short, angry 
 sea running, and the distance being considerable, 
 the first shot did not take effect. Several of the 
 hands on board the brig had served in men-of-war ; 
 these were now oracles among their messmates, 
 and they looked with some anxiety at their young 
 captain, curious to see how he would behave under 
 fire, for they believed he had never smelt powder : 
 and although strict and firm in his command, he 
 was usually so gentle and quiet in his manner, that 
 they considered him rather a studious than a fight- 
 ing character. Their curiosity was not, however, 
 much gratified ; for Ethelston, without appearing 
 to notice the frigate, kept his eye stedfastly fixed 
 upon the cape a-head ; and, after a brief silence, 
 he said, " Gregson, there is a strong current which 
 sets in shore here, ' The Pride ' cannot weather 
 that point on this tack." 
 
 " You are right, sir," said the mate ; " L'Es- 
 trange has got his bristles up, he is nearing us 
 every minute, and if we carry on this course, in 
 another half hour, both will go ashore." 
 
 " Ha!" exclaimed the young captain, the colour 
 rising in his cheek, as a sudden thought flashed 
 across him. " If we could ensure that both would 
 go to pieces among those breakers, it would be a 
 glorious death for the little brig to die !"
 
 184 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 He spoke these words in an under tone, and 
 rather musing to himself than addressing his offi- 
 cer. The latter, however, overheard them, and 
 looked at him with an astonishment which he could 
 not repress ; for he also knew as little as the crew, 
 of the determined courage that reposed under the 
 calm and quiet demeanour of his young comman- 
 der. Again a wreath of smoke issued from the 
 bows of the frigate, and a round shot passed 
 through the rigging of the chase, doing fortunate- 
 ly no material damage, but proving that they were 
 now within easy range. 
 
 "I fear it will not do, sir," said the mate in 
 reply to Ethelston's last words ; " she can pepper 
 away at us, and yet make her offing good." 
 
 "Then there remains but one chance for us," 
 said the captain ; " answer her signal, show your 
 colours, "bout ship, and stand for the frigate." 
 
 The mate was, if possible, more surprised at 
 this order than he had been before at the proposal 
 to try and cast both vessels ashore; but he was 
 too good a seaman to hesitate or to ask any ques- 
 tions ; and in a few minutes the gallant little brig 
 had answered the signal, and was standing out to- 
 wards the frigate on the starboard tack. 
 
 We will now transport the reader for a few 
 minutes on board Epervier, and make him ac- 
 
 '
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 185 
 
 quainted with the captain, into whose clutches the 
 poor little brig seemed destined to fall. L'Es- 
 trange was a fine-looking, middle-aged man, who 
 had spent the greater part of his life at sea, and 
 had married, when very young, a Spanish Creole, 
 whose beauty was her only dower ; he had several 
 children by this marriage, the eldest of whom was 
 now a lieutenant on board his ship ; the remainder 
 of the family resided at Point a Pitre, in Guada- 
 loupe, for the captain was in truth rather of the 
 ' ancien regime ; ' he loved his country, but he 
 hated the Directory and other fruits of the French 
 Revolution ; so that he never went to Europe, and 
 would have been but rarely employed had he not 
 been known to be one of the most skilful and ex- 
 perienced officers in the French navy. Such was 
 the man who now stood on the frigate's quarter- 
 deck, and after examining " The Pride " again 
 through his glass, turned to his first-lieutenant 
 and desired him to cease firing. " That obstinate 
 trader," added he, " seemed very anxious to 
 escape, and thought but little of the risk she 
 ran of going ashore, or of being riddled by our 
 shot!" 
 
 "She's one of those saucy Americans," said 
 the lieutenant, " that think nothing afloat can 
 match 'em ; however she 's made a mistake this
 
 186 THE PRAIRIE- BIRD. 
 
 time, and I hope, sir, when she "s overhauled, 
 she'll prove worth the trouble she's given !" 
 
 The frigate, by this time, finding herself too 
 close in on a lee shore, hauled to the wind, and 
 disliking the broken and rugged appearance of the 
 coast, determined not to lie-to for the brig until 
 she had made sufficient offing. This was precisely 
 the calculation that Ethelston had made; and he 
 now paced his deck with a calm and satisfied coun- 
 tenance, whilst his men, grouped on the forecastle, 
 were quite at a loss to discover his intentions ; the 
 mate, however, was clearer sighted, and could not 
 withhold his admiration from the decision and 
 boldness of a manoeuvre, the success of which 
 must soon be tested. 
 
 The captain of the frigate went below to dinner, 
 having given orders to the lieutenant to stand out 
 on the same tack for another half hour, then to 
 lie-to until the brig should come alongside. 
 
 Meantime, Ethelston, who had kept his eye 
 fixed upon the head-land so often mentioned, mut- 
 tering to himself, " she will fetch it now," desired 
 the man at the helm, to yaw the brig about, to 
 throw her up now and then in the wind, so as to 
 fall astern of the frigate as much as possible, yet 
 not apparently varying the course. Having done 
 so as long as he judged it practicable without
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 187 
 
 awakening the enemy's suspicion, he saw, to his 
 inexpressible delight, the frigate shorten sail to 
 enable him to come up ; instantly seizing this ad- 
 vantage, he ordered his mate to put the brig 
 about, and run for the Isle of Pines. It may 
 well be imagined that this bold manosuvre was not 
 many moments unperceived on board the frigate ; 
 and L'Estrange's astonishment was great, when 
 from the noise overhead, and from the heeling of 
 the ship, he found that her course was being al- 
 tered. Springing on deck, he saw that he had 
 been outwitted by the saucy brig, which was crowd- 
 ing all sail, and seemed not unlikely to effect her 
 escape. The old captain chafed, and stormed, and 
 swore that the obstinate little trader should pay 
 dearly for her insolence. 
 
 The Epervier was a fast sailer, and as she now 
 dashed the spray from her bows under a press of 
 canvass, it was soon evident that the brig could 
 not yet round the point without coming within 
 range of her guns. 
 
 Ethelston's mind was now made up ; and finding 
 his men cheerful and inspirited by the success of 
 his manoeuvre, he yet hoped to bring his vessel into 
 the intricate channel behind the island, where the 
 frigate would not venture to follow ; it was not long 
 before she again saluted him, and one of the shot
 
 ]88 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 passing through the brig's bulwarks close to him, 
 shivered the binnacle into a hundred pieces. Ob- 
 serving symptoms of uneasiness in the man at the 
 helm, and that he swerved from the course, Ethel- 
 ston gave him a stern reproof, and again desired 
 Harrison to come to the helm. The frigate, which 
 still held the weather-gage, seemed now resolved 
 to cut off the brig from the headland, and to sink 
 her if she attempted to weather it. Ethelston saw 
 his full danger, and was prepared to meet it; had 
 he commanded a vessel of war, however small, he 
 would not have shrunk from the responsibility he 
 was about to incur; but, remembering that his 
 little brig was but a trader, and that the crew 
 ought not to be exposed without their own con- 
 sent to danger so imminent as that before them, 
 he desired Gregson to call them aft, when he ad- 
 dressed them as follows : 
 
 " My lads, you see the scrape we are in ; if 
 we can round that point, we may yet escape, but 
 to do so, we must run within a few hundred yards 
 of the frigate's broadside. What say you, my lads, 
 shall we strike, or stand the chance? a French 
 prison, or hurrah for the Belise?" 
 
 " Hurrah for the Belise," shouted the men, ani- 
 mated by their young commander's words and by 
 his fearless bearing ; so the little brig held on her 
 way.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 189 
 
 A few minutes proved that he had neither mag- 
 nified nor underrated the danger; his chart gave 
 him deep water round the headland; and he now 
 ordered Harrison to keep her away, and let her 
 run close in shore, thereby increasing her speed, 
 and the distance from the enemy. 
 
 The surprise and wrath of L'Estrange, at the im- 
 pudent daring of a craft which he now perceived 
 to be really nothing but an insignificant trader, are 
 not to be described. He bore up after her, and 
 having desired the men to stand to their guns, 
 generously determined to give the saucy chase one 
 more chance, but finding his repeated signal for 
 her to heave-to, disregarded, he reluctantly gave 
 the order to fire. Fortunately for "The Pride," 
 the sea was running high, and naval gunnery had 
 not then reached the perfection which it has since 
 attained ; and though her rigging was cut up from 
 stem to stern, and her fore-topmast was shot away, 
 and though she received several shot in her hull, 
 she still answered her helm, and gallantly rounding 
 the point, ran in shore, and was in a few minutes 
 among shoals which, to her light draught, were 
 not dangerous, but where it would have been mad- 
 ness in the frigate to follow.
 
 190 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 KTHELSTON'S FURTHER ADVENTURES AT SEA, AND HOW HE BE- 
 CAME CAPTOR AND CAPTIVE IN A VERY SHORT SPACE OF 
 TIME. 
 
 IT seemed almost miraculous that not a man on 
 the "Pride of the Ohio" was killed by the frigate's 
 broadside, nor was one wounded, excepting Ethel- 
 ston, who received a slight hurt in the left arm 
 from a splinter; but he paid no attention to it, 
 and calmly gave all the requisite orders for re- 
 pairing the damaged spars and rigging. 
 
 As soon as all was made snug, he let the men 
 go below to dinner, and leaning over the shivered 
 bulwarks of his little craft, seemed busily em- 
 ployed in counting the shot that had struck her ; 
 but his eyes were for a time fixed upon the water, 
 through which she was cutting her easy way, and 
 his thoughts were afar off, as he whispered almost 
 audibly to himself, "Dear, dear Lucy your name- 
 sake is wounded and disfigured, but she is not dis-
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 191 
 
 graced. Thank Heaven, no Frenchman's foot has 
 yet trodden her deck, and " 
 
 Here he was interrupted by Gregson, who hav- 
 ing been carefully observing the frigate through 
 his glass, came up to him, and said, " Beg pardon, 
 sir, but she is getting ready her boats, and the 
 breeze is failing fast; in another hour we shall 
 have scarce a cat's paw." 
 
 Ethelston started from his short reverie, and 
 immediately convinced himself that the mate spoke 
 the truth; "You are right,"" said he, "but we have 
 a good hour to spare, for the frigate is nearly be- 
 calmed. Let the men have their dinner quietly, 
 say nothing to them about the matter, and give 
 'em an extra glass of grog ; but no drunkenness, 
 Gregson ; they may want the full use of their heads 
 and hands to-night ; send Cupid to my cabin, and 
 tell him to bring me a slice of cold meat and a 
 glass of Madeira." 
 
 So saying, he went below ; the mate looked after 
 him, and turning his quid three or four times in 
 his cheek, he mutfered, " Damme if he makes any 
 more count of the frigate's guns or boats than a 
 bear does of a bee-hive ! They spoilt as good a 
 commodore as ever stept a deck when they made 
 a trading -skipper of him !" Having vented this 
 characteristic encomium on his young commander,
 
 192 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 the old seaman went forward to execute his 
 orders. 
 
 Meanwhile Ethelston, consulting his chart, 
 found that the reefs and shoals as laid down, 
 rendered the navigation of the coast extremely 
 dangerous even for the light draught of his brig ; 
 having only allowed himself a few minutes for 
 refreshment, he again went on deck, and observ- 
 ing the frigate still becalmed, he ordered the mate 
 to shorten sail, take soundings, and to desire the 
 carpenter to make a report of the leakage, or 
 any other serious injury sustained by the frigate's 
 shot 
 
 During this time L'Estrange was not idle on 
 board the " Epervier." Nettled at the successful 
 trick played upon him, he resolved as the breeze 
 gradually died away to capture the chase with his 
 boats ; for this duty the launch and the pinnace 
 were assigned : the former had a carronade and 
 twenty-five hands, and was commanded by his 
 son ; the latter had a swivel, and thirteen hands, 
 commanded by a junior lieutenant. The object of 
 L'Estrange being to prevent an unnecessary effu- 
 sion of blood, by sending a force strong enough to 
 render resistance hopeless on the part of, what 
 he called, a dirty little sugar-boat. The crew of 
 The Pride of Ohio, elated by the success of their
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 193 
 
 Captain's manoeuvre, and exhilarated by the extra 
 grog served out, were in high good humour, and 
 laughing over the events of the morning with 
 reckless merriment, when they received an order 
 from Ethelston to come aft. On their obeying 
 the summons, he again addressed them as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 " My lads, you have thus far done your duty 
 like men; but our work is not yet over. The 
 Epervier is determined to sink or capture our 
 little craft ; she is now getting out her boats for 
 that service: if we resist, we shall have warm 
 work of it; if we strike without a fight, we may 
 rot in a French dungeon. Again I ask you, my 
 lads, will you stick by The Pride, and hurrah for 
 home, or a sailor's grave ! " 
 
 A hearty and simultaneous cheer from the crew 
 was the only reply. 
 
 " I knew it, my lads," continued Ethelston, his 
 countenance, usually so calm, now glowing with 
 enthusiasm, " I knew that you would not desert 
 her while she could float ! It is now my duty to 
 tell you that she has received two awkward shots 
 just between wind and water line, and that she 
 leaks apace. We must stop them as well as we 
 may ; but be prepared for the boats from the Eper- 
 vier ; they shall at least buy us a dear bargain ! " 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 Ethelston now called the mate, and gave him 
 full instructions for the plan of defence from the 
 expected attack. The long gun and the carron- 
 ades were got ready and loaded, the former with 
 round shot, the latter with grape ; small arms and 
 cutlasses were served out to the men, and the deck 
 cleared of everything that might impede them in 
 the approaching struggle. Meantime Ethelston 
 ordered to be hoisted a new ensign, given to the 
 brig by Lucy, and said to be partly worked by 
 her own fair fingers. As soon as it was run up, 
 he sent aloft a boy, with orders to nail it to the 
 mast-head, which was done amid the repeated 
 cheers of the crew. They were not long kept in 
 suspense ; the breeze had died away : the flapping 
 sails and creaking yards gave the usual sullen in- 
 dications of a calm, when the boats from the Eper- 
 vier advanced at a steady and measured stroke 
 towards the brig. Ethelston gave the long gun to 
 the charge of Gregson, reserving to himself that of 
 the carronades ; he issued also special orders not 
 to fire, under any circumstances, until he gave the 
 word, or in case he fell, until they received the 
 order from Gregson, who would succeed him in 
 the command. 
 
 During all these preparations, Cupid appeared 
 indifferent to what was passing, and continued
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 195 
 
 busily occupied with his pots and pans in the ca- 
 boose. This conduct caused some little surprise 
 in Ethelston, who knew that the black was not the 
 stupid phlegmatic character that he now seemed ; 
 and he accordingly sent Gregson to inquire whe- 
 ther, in the event of an attack from the frigate's 
 boats, he meant to fight? desiring the mate at the 
 same time to offer him a cutlass. The African 
 grinned when he received this message, and re- 
 plied that he meant to do his best. He declined, 
 however, the proffered cutlass, informing the mate, 
 that he had got a toasting-fork of his own, ready 
 for the Mounseers ; as he said this, he showed him 
 the fragment of a capstan-bar, the end of which he 
 had sharpened and burnt hard in the hot cinders ; 
 it was an unwieldy kind of club, and in the hands 
 of an ordinary man, could have been but of little 
 service ; but his gigantic strength enabled him to 
 wield it like a common cudgel. The truth is, that 
 Cupid would have preferred being armed with cut- 
 lass and pistol, both of which he could use as well 
 as any man on board ; but he had tact enough to 
 know that the prejudice against his colour forbad 
 his taking his place on deck among the other de- 
 fenders of the vessel. 
 
 The boats being now within hail, Lieutenant 
 L' Estrange stood up in the launch and ordered 
 
 K 2
 
 196 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 the brig to strike her colours, and receive him on 
 board. Finding this order unheeded, he repeated 
 it through the trumpet in a sterner tone, adding 
 that, if not immediately obeyed, he should fire 
 upon her. Not a man stirred on board the brig, 
 neither was any reply made to the lieutenant, who 
 forthwith discharged the contents of his carronade 
 into her hull, by which one man was killed dead, 
 and two were wounded by splinters; he then de- 
 sired his men to pull hard for the brig to board 
 her, while others had orders to fire small arms at 
 all whom they could see above the bulwarks. The 
 boats had approached within fifty yards before 
 Ethelston gave the word to fire. Gregson pointed 
 the long gun upon the smaller boat with so true 
 an aim that the heavy shot went clean through 
 her, and she filled and went down in a few minutes, 
 the survivors of her crew being picked up by the 
 launch. Meanwhile, Ethelston fired a volley of 
 grape into the latter with terrible effect, several 
 being killed on the spot, and many of the remain- 
 der severely wounded. Nothing daunted by this 
 murderous fire, the gallant young lieutenant held 
 on his way to the brig, and again discharging his 
 carronade at the distance of only a few yards, her 
 timbers were fearfully rent, and amidst the smoke 
 and confusion thereby created, he and his crew
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 197 
 
 scrambled up her sides to board. The combat 
 was now hand to hand ; nor was it very unequal, 
 so many of the Frenchmen having been killed and 
 wounded in the boats ; they were strong enough, 
 however, to make good their footing on deck, and 
 inch by inch, they forced back the crew of the 
 brig. Ethelston fought with the courage of a lion ; 
 his voice was heard above the din of the fray, ani- 
 mating his men ; and several of the boldest of the 
 enemy had already felt the edge of his cutlass. 
 Nor was young L'Estrange less gallant in his at- 
 tack, and his followers being more numerous than 
 their opponents, drove them back gradually by 
 main force. It was at this moment, that Cupid, 
 who had hitherto remained unnoticed in his ca- 
 boose, thought fit to commence his operations; 
 which he did by throwing a great pan of greasy 
 boiling water over three or four of the assailants, 
 and then laying about him with his huge club, 
 which felled a man almost at every blow. The 
 excruciating pain occasioned by the hot liquid, to- 
 gether with the consternation produced by this 
 unexpected attack in their rear, completed the 
 dismay of the Frenchmen. At this crisis young 
 L'Estrange slipped and fell on the deck ; Gregson, 
 bestriding him, was about to dispatch him, when 
 Ethelston, who was already bleeding from a severe
 
 198 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 cutlass wound in the forehead, rushed forward to 
 save him; but the infuriated youth, perhaps mis- 
 taking his intention, drew his last remaining pistol, 
 and fired with so true an aim, that Ethelston's left 
 arm fell powerless at his side. A flush of anger 
 came over his countenance; but seeing Gregson 
 again raising his hand to dispatch the young offi- 
 cer, he again interposed, and desired the mate to 
 spare him, an order which the seaman reluctantly 
 obeyed. 
 
 Ethelston now entreated L'Estrange to give up 
 his sword, and to save further bloodshed ; and the 
 young man, seeing that his followers were mostly 
 overpowered and wounded, presented it with a 
 countenance in which grief and shame were blen- 
 ded with indignation. " Stay," said Ethelston ; 
 " before I receive your sword, the conditions on 
 which I receive it are, that you give your parole, 
 that neither you nor any one of your men shall 
 bear arms against the United States, during the 
 continuance of this war, whether you and I are 
 recaptured or not; and the launch becomes my 
 prize." 
 
 To these terms the youth assented, and ordered 
 such of his men as were not quite disabled, to lay 
 down their arms. In a few minutes, all who were 
 unhurt were busily engaged in tending the dying
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 199 
 
 and wounded. Fortunately an assistant-surgeon, 
 who had volunteered on this service from the 
 frigate, was among those unhurt, and he set about 
 his professional duties with as much alacrity as if 
 he had been in the ward of an hospital. Cupid 
 retreated quietly to his caboose, and Ethelston 
 continued giving his orders with the same clear- 
 ness and decision that had marked his whole con- 
 duct. Young L'Estrange looked over the brig's 
 low sides into the water; his heart was too full 
 for utterance ; and his captor, with considerate 
 kindness, abstained from addressing him. The 
 surgeon, observing that the blood still flowed from 
 the wound on Ethelston's forehead, and that his 
 left arm hung at his side, now came and offered 
 his services. Thanking him courteously, he re- 
 plied, smiling, " I took my chance of wounds on 
 equal terms with those brave fellows, and I will 
 take my chance of cure on equal terms also; 
 when you have attended to all those who are 
 more seriously hurt, I shall be happy to avail my- 
 self of your skill." 
 
 The surgeon bowed and withdrew. An audible 
 groan burst from the unhappy L'Estrange, but still 
 he spoke not ; and Ethelston held a brief consulta- 
 tion with his mate and the carpenter, the result 
 of which was, an order given to the former, in a
 
 200 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 low tone of voice, " to prepare immediately, and 
 to send Cupid to him in the cabin " 
 
 As he was going down, L'Estrange came to him, 
 and asked him, confusedly, and with an averted 
 countenance, if he might speak to him alone for a 
 minute. Ethelston begged him to follow him into 
 his cabin, when, having shut the door, he said, 
 " M. L'Estrange, we are alone, pray speak ; is 
 there anything in which I can serve you." 
 
 The youth gazed on him for a moment, in an 
 agony that could not yet find relief in words, and 
 then falling on the floor, burst into a flood of tears. 
 Ethelston was moved and surprised at this violent 
 grief in one whom he had so lately seen under the 
 influence of pride and passion. Taking him kind- 
 ly by the hand, he said, " Pray compose yourself! 
 these are misfortunes to which all brave men are 
 liable. You did all that a gallant officer could do ; 
 success is at the disposal of a higher power ; you 
 will meet it another day." 
 
 " Never, never ! " said the young lieutenant, 
 vehemently ; " the loss of my boat is nothing ; the 
 failure of our attack is nothing ; but I am a dis- 
 honoured coward, and Heaven itself cannot restore 
 a tainted honour !" 
 
 " Nay, nay," replied Ethelston ; " you must not 
 say so. I maintain that you and your crew fought
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 201 
 
 gallantly till every hope of success was gone the 
 bravest can do no more.!" 
 
 "You are blindly generous," said the youth, pas- 
 sionately ; " you will not understand me ! When 
 every hope was gone when I lay at the mercy 
 of your mate's cutlass you sprang forward to 
 save my life. I, like a savage a monster a 
 coward as I am, fired and tried to kill you; 
 even then, without a word of anger or reproach, 
 you, although wounded by my pistol, again inter- 
 posed, and saved me from the death I deserved. 
 Oh, would that I had died an hundred deaths 
 rather than have lived to such disgrace !" 
 
 And again the unhappy young officer buried 
 his face in his hands, while his whole frame still 
 trembled convulsively with grief. Ethelston used 
 every exertion to soothe and allay his agitation. 
 He assured him that the wound he had received 
 was not serious, that the pistol was fired under a 
 strong excitement, and in the turmoil of a bloody 
 fray, when no man's thoughts are sufficiently col- 
 lected to regulate his conduct; and he forgave him 
 so freely and mingled his forgiveness with so many 
 expressions of kindness and esteem, that he suc- 
 ceeded at length in restoring him to a certain 
 degree of composure. Nothing, however, would 
 satisfy L'Estrange but that he should have his 
 
 K5
 
 202 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 wounds instantly dressed ; and he ran himself and 
 summoned the surgeon, resolving to be present at 
 the operation. 
 
 When Ethelston's clothes were removed, it ap- 
 peared that besides a few flesh cuts of no great 
 consequence, he had received two severe shot 
 wounds : one from a musket-ball, which had sunk 
 deep into the left shoulder, the other from L'Es- 
 trange's pistol, by which the bone of the left arm 
 was broken. The latter was soon set and ban- 
 daged; but the ball could not be extracted from 
 the former, either because the surgeon's skill was 
 not equal to the task, or from his not having with 
 him the instruments requisite for the operation. 
 As soon as this was over, Ethelston dismissed the 
 surgeon; and turning good-humouredly to L'Es- 
 trange, he said, " Now, my young friend, I want 
 your assistance. I must lose no time in putting 
 all our men aboard the launch, and taking in as 
 many stores and necessaries as she will hold, for 
 this brig is doomed ; your swivel and the frigate's 
 guns have finished her; she is fast settling down, 
 and in a couple of hours I expect her to sink." 
 
 " On my word, sir," said L'Estrange, " you will 
 pardon me if I say, that you are the strongest 
 gentleman that I ever yet knew to command a 
 trading brig ! You out-manosuvre a frigate, cap-
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 203 
 
 ture her boats, fight as if you had done nothing 
 but fight all your life, sit as quiet under that sur- 
 geon's probes and tortures as if you were eating 
 your dinner, and now talk calmly of scuttling your 
 brig, for which you have run all these risks ! " 
 
 " It is my philosophy, Monsieur 1'Estrange. I 
 tried first to get away without fighting ; when that 
 was impossible, I fought as well as I could. What 
 has happened since, and what is yet to come, I 
 bear as well as I can ! All that I ask of you is to 
 keep your fellows in order, and make them assist 
 mine in removing the wounded and the requisite 
 stores on board the launch." So saying, and again 
 saluting his prisoner, he went on deck. 
 
 Though he struggled thus manfully against his 
 emotion, it was with a heavy heart that Ethelston 
 prepared to bid a final adieu to his little vessel, 
 which he loved much for her own sake, more 
 perhaps for the name she bore. While giving the 
 necessary orders for this melancholy duty, his at- 
 tention was called by Gregson to a sail that was 
 coming up with the light evening breeze astern. 
 One look through the glass sufficed to shew him 
 that she hoisted French colours ; and L'Estrange, 
 who now came on deck, immediately knew her to 
 be the Hirondelle, an armed cutter that acted 
 on this cruise as a tender to the Epervier. A
 
 204 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 momentary glow overspread the countenance of 
 Ethelston, as he felt that resistance was hopeless, 
 and that in another hour his brig would be sunk, 
 and his brave crew prisoners. But being too 
 proud to allow the French officer to see his emo- 
 tion, he controlled it by a powerful effort, and 
 continued to give his orders with his accustomed 
 coolness and precision. 
 
 Though young L^Estrange's heart beat high at 
 this sudden and unlooked-for deliverance, he could 
 not forbear his admiration at his captor's self- 
 possession ; and his own joy was damped by the 
 remembrance of that portion of his own conduct 
 which he had so deeply lamented, and also of the 
 parole he had given not to bear arms again during 
 the war. Meantime the removal of the men, the 
 stores, provisions, and papers from the brig went 
 on with the greatest order and dispatch. 
 
 Ethelston was the last to leave her ; previous to 
 his doing so, he made the carpenter knock out 
 the oakum and other temporary plugs with which 
 he had stopped the leaks, being determined that 
 she should not fall into the hands of the French. 
 This being completed, the launch shoved off; and 
 while pulling heavily for the shore, the crew looked 
 in gloomy silence at their ill-fated brig. Ethel- 
 ston was almost unmanned ; for his heart and his
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 205 
 
 thoughts were on Ohio's banks, and he could not 
 separate the recollections of Lucy from the un- 
 timely fate of her favourite vessel. He gazed 
 until his sight and brain grew dizzy; he fancied 
 that he saw Lucy's form on the deck of the brig, 
 and that she stretched her arms to him for aid. 
 Even while he thus looked, the waters poured 
 fast into their victim. She settled, sunk; and in 
 a few minutes scarce a bubble on their surface 
 told where the Pride of Ohio had gone down ! 
 A groan burst from Ethelston's bosom. Nature 
 could no longer endure the accumulated weight of 
 fatigue and intense pain occasioned by his wounds: 
 he sunk down insensible in the boat, and when he 
 recovered his senses, found himself a prisoner on 
 board the Hirondelle. 
 
 Great had been the surprise of the lieutenant 
 who commanded her at the disappearance of the 
 brig which he had been sent to secure ; and greater 
 still at the condition of the persons found on board 
 the launch. His inquiries were answered by young 
 L'Estrange with obvious reluctance: so having 
 paid the last melancholy duties to the dead, and 
 afforded all the assistance in his power to the 
 wounded, he put about the cutter, and made sail 
 for the Epervier. 
 
 As soon as young L'Estrange found himself on
 
 206 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 the frigate's deck, he asked for an immediate and 
 private audience of his father, to whom he detailed 
 without reserve all the circumstances of the late 
 expedition. He concluded his narration with the 
 warmest praises of Ethelston's courage, conduct, 
 and humanity, while he repeated that bitter cen- 
 sure of his own behaviour which he had before 
 expressed on board the Pride of Ohio. The gal- 
 lant old Captain, though mortified at the failure of 
 the enterprise and the loss of men that he had 
 sustained, could not but appreciate the candour, 
 and feel for the mortification of his favourite son ; 
 and he readily promised that Ethelston should be 
 treated with the greatest care and kindness, and 
 that the most favourable terms, consistent with his 
 duty, should be offered to the prisoners. 
 
 Young L'Estrange gave up his own berth to 
 Ethelston, whose severe sufferings had been suc- 
 ceeded by a weakness and lethargy yet more dan- 
 gerous. The surgeon was ordered to attend him ; 
 and his care was extended to all the wounded, 
 without distinction of country. 
 
 After a few days Captain 1'Estrange determined 
 to exchange Gregson, the mate, and the remainder 
 of the brig's crew, for some French prisoners lately 
 taken by an American privateer ; they were accord- 
 ingly placed for that purpose on board the cutter,
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 207 
 
 and sent to New Orleans. Young L'Estrange 
 having learned from the mate the address of Colo- 
 nel Brandon and his connection with Ethelston, 
 wrote him a letter, in which he mentioned the 
 latter in the highest and most affectionate terms, 
 assuring the Colonel that he should be treated as 
 if he were his own brother; and that, although the 
 danger arising from his wounds rendered it abso- 
 lutely necessary that he should return to Guada- 
 loupe with the frigate, his friends might rely upon 
 his being tended with the same care as if he had 
 been at home. Cupid, at his own urgent entreaty, 
 remained with his master, taking charge of all his 
 private baggage and papers. 
 
 We need not follow the fate of the cutter any 
 further than to say that she reached her destina- 
 tion in safety; that the proposed exchange was 
 effected, and the prisoners restored to their respec- 
 tive homes. 
 
 The surgeon on board the Epervier succeeded 
 at length in taking out the ball lodged in Ethel- 
 ston's shoulder, and when they arrived at Guada- 
 loupe, he pronounced his patient out of danger, 
 but enjoined the strictest quiet and confinement, 
 till his recovery should be further advanced. The 
 ardent young L'Estrange no sooner reached home 
 than he prevailed on his father to receive Ethel-
 
 208 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 ston into his own house. He painted to his sister 
 Nina, a girl of seventeen, the sufferings and the 
 heroism of their guest, in the most glowing co- 
 lours ; he made her prepare for him the most 
 refreshing and restoring beverages; he watched 
 for hours at the side of his couch ; in short, he 
 lavished upon him all those marks of affection 
 with which a hasty and generous nature loves to 
 make reparation for a wrong. In all these at- 
 tentions and endeavours, he was warmly seconded 
 by Nina, who made her brother repeat more than 
 once, the narrative of the defence and subsequent 
 loss of the brig. How Ethelston's recovery pro- 
 ceeded under the care of the brother and sister 
 shall be told in another chapter.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 209 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 VISIT OF WINGENUND TO MOOSHANNE. HE REJOINS WAR-EAGLE, 
 AND THEY RETURN TO THEIR BAND IN THE FAR WEST. 
 M. PERROT MAKES AN UNSUCCESSFUL ATTACK ON THE HEART 
 OF A YOUNG LADY. 
 
 WE must now return to Mooshanne, where 
 Colonel Brandon received Wingenund very kindly; 
 and within half an hour of the arrival of the party, 
 they were all seated at his hospitable board, where- 
 on smoked venison steaks, various kinds of fowls, 
 a substantial ham, cakes of rice, and Indian maize. 
 On the side-table were cream, wild honey, cheese 
 and preserved fruits, all these delicacies being ad- 
 mirably served under the superintendence of Aunt 
 Mary, who was delighted with Wingenund, praised 
 the extreme beauty of his eyes and features, tell- 
 ing the colonel, in a whisper, that if she had been 
 thirty-five years younger, she should have been 
 afraid of losing her heart ! The youth was indeed 
 the hero of the day : all were grateful to him for 
 his gallant preservation of Reginald's life, and all
 
 210 THE PRAIRIE- BIRD. 
 
 strove with equal anxiety to make him forget that 
 he was among strangers. Nor was the task diffi- 
 cult ; for though he had only the use of one hand, 
 it was surprising to see the tact and self-possession 
 with which he conducted himself, the temperate 
 quietness with which he ate and drank, and the 
 ease with which he handled some of the imple- 
 ments at table, which he probably saw for the first 
 time. Baptiste was a privileged person in the 
 Colonel's house, and was allowed to dine as he 
 pleased, either with its master, or with Perrot and 
 the other servants. On this occasion, he was pre- 
 sent in the dining-room, and seemed to take a 
 pleasure in drawing out the young Delaware, and 
 in making him talk on subjects which he knew 
 would be interesting to the rest of the party. 
 Wingenund was quiet and reserved in his replies, 
 except when a question was put to him by Lucy, 
 to whom he gave his answers with the greatest 
 naivete, telling her more than once, that she re- 
 minded him of his sister Prairie-bird, but that 
 the latter was taller, and had darker hair. Whilst 
 addressing her, he kept his large speaking eyes so 
 riveted upon Lucy's countenance, that she cast 
 her own to the ground, almost blushing at the 
 boy's earnest and admiring gaze. To relieve her- 
 self from embarrassment, she again inquired about
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 211 
 
 this mysterious sister, saying, " Tell me Winge- 
 nund, has she taught you to read, as well as to 
 speak our tongue." 
 
 " No," said the youth ; " Prairie-bird talks with 
 the Great Spirit, and with paper books, and so 
 does the Black Father; but Wingenund cannot 
 understand them, he is only a poor Indian." 
 
 Here Reginald, whose curiosity was much ex- 
 cited, inquired, "Does the Prairie-bird look kindly 
 on the young chiefs of the tribe? Will she be the 
 wife of a chief?" 
 
 There was something both of surprise and 
 scorn in Wingenund's countenance, as he replied, 
 " Prairie-bird is kind to all the young chiefs find 
 wives among the daughters of the Delawares; 
 but the antelope mates not with the moose, though 
 they feed on the same Prairie. The Great Spirit 
 knows where the Prairie-bird was born; but her 
 race is unknown to the wise men among the Tor- 
 toises." 
 
 Reginald and his sister were equally at a loss 
 to understand his meaning; both looked inquiring- 
 ly at the Guide, who was rubbing his ear, as if 
 rather puzzled by the young Delaware's answer. 
 At length, he said, " Why, Miss Lucy, you see, 
 much of what the lad says is as plain to me as the 
 sight on my rifle : for the tribes of the Lenape are
 
 212 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 as well known to me as the totems of the Oggi- 
 beways. The Great nation is divided into three 
 tribes: the Minsi, or the Wolf-tribe (sometimes 
 called also Puncsit, or round-foot) ; the Unalac- 
 ticos, or the Turkey-tribe, and the Unamis, or the 
 Tortoise-tribe. The last are considered the prin- 
 cipal and most ancient; and as Wingenund's fa- 
 mily are of this band, he spoke just now of their 
 wise men. But who, or what kin' o' crittur this 
 Prairie-bird can be, would puzzle a Philadelphy 
 lawyer to tell, let alone a poor hunter who knows 
 little out of the line of his trade." 
 
 "Then, Baptiste," said Lucy, smiling; "your 
 trade is a pretty extensive one, for I think you 
 have more knowledge in your head on most sub- 
 jects than half the lawyers and clerks in the Ter- 
 ritory." 
 
 " There it is, Miss Lucy ; you 're always a givin' 
 me a little dose of flattery, just as I give my. patches 
 a bit of grease to make the Doctor swallow his lead 
 pills. You ladies think we're all alike, young 
 sparks, and tough old chaps like me, if you do 
 but dip our fingers into the honey-pot, you know 
 we shall lick them as soon as your backs are 
 turned ! But it is getting late," he added, rising 
 from his seat ; " and I have much to say to this 
 youth, who is already tired ; with your leave, Miss,
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 213 
 
 I will retire with him, and see that he has a com- 
 fortable sleeping-quarter, and that he wants for 
 nothing." 
 
 " Pray do so," said Lucy ; " let him be treated 
 as if he were one of our own family. I am sure, 
 dear papa, such would be your wish," she added, 
 turning to her father. 
 
 " It is indeed, my child," said the Colonel. 
 " Wingenund, again I beg you to receive a father's 
 best thanks for your brave defence of his son." 
 
 " It was nothing," replied the boy, modestly. 
 " You are all good, too good to Wingenund ; when 
 he gets to the Far Prairie, he will tell the Prairie- 
 bird and the Black Father to speak to the Great 
 Spirit, that He may smile on my white father, and 
 on my brother; and," he added, slowly raising 
 his dark eloquent eyes to Lucy's face, "that he 
 may send down pleasant sunshine and refreshing 
 dew on the Lily of Mooshanne." So saying, he 
 turned and left the room, accompanied by the 
 Guide. 
 
 " Well," exclaimed the Colonel, as the youth 
 disappeared, " they may call that lad a savage ; 
 but his feelings, ay, and his manners too, would 
 put to shame those .of many who think themselves 
 fine gentlemen." 
 
 " He is, indeed, a noble young fellow," said
 
 214 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 Reginald, " and worthy to be the relative and 
 pupil of my Indian brother. I would that you 
 had seen him, father: you are in general rather 
 sceptical as to the qualities of the Redskins. I 
 think the War-Eagle would surprise you ! " 
 
 " Indeed, Reginald," said the Colonel, " I have 
 seen among them so much cruelty, cunning, and 
 drunkenness, that the romantic notions which I 
 once entertained respecting them are completely 
 dissipated. Nevertheless, I confess that many of 
 their worst faults have arisen from their commerce 
 with the whites ; and they still retain some virtues 
 which are extremely rare among us." 
 
 " To which do you allude ? " inquired Reginald. 
 
 " More especially, to patience under suffering, 
 a padlocked mouth when . entrusted with a secret, 
 and unshaken fidelity in friendship/ 1 
 
 "These are indeed high and valuable qualities," 
 replied Reginald. " Moreover, it strikes me that 
 in one principal feature of character the Indian is 
 superior to us; he acts up to his creed. That 
 creed may be entirely based on error ; it may teach 
 him to prefer revenge to mercy, theft to industry, 
 violence to right ; but such as he has learnt it from 
 his fathers, he acts up to it more firmly and con- 
 sistently than we do, * who know the right, and 
 still the wrong pursue.'"
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 215 
 
 " Your observation is just," replied his father; 
 " they are benighted, and do many of the deeds of 
 darkness. What shall we say of those who do 
 them under the light of a noon-day sun?" 
 
 " And yet," said Lucy, " this Wingenund seems 
 half a Christian, and more than half a gentleman, 
 either by nature, or by the instructions of the 
 strange being he calls the Prairie-bird ! " 
 
 " Upon my word, Lucy," said her brother, with 
 a malicious smile, " I thought, while the lad was 
 speaking of his sister on the Prairie, his eyes were 
 strangely fixed upon the white lady in the wig- 
 wam. It is fortunate he is going soon ; and still 
 more fortunate that a certain cruizing captain is 
 not returned from the West Indies." As this im- 
 pertinent speech was made in a whisper, it did not 
 reach Aunt Mary or the Colonel; and the only 
 reply it drew from Lucy, was a blushing threat of 
 a repetition of the same punishment which she had 
 inflicted in the morning for a similar offence. He 
 begged pardon, and was forgiven; soon after which 
 the little party broke up and retired to rest 
 
 Meantime Baptiste, who knew that the well- 
 intentioned offer of a bed-room and its comforts 
 would be a great annoyance to Wingenund, took 
 the lad out with him to a dry barn behind the 
 house, where there was an abundant supply of
 
 216 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 clean straw, and where he intended to lodge him 
 for the night. " Wingenund," said he, " you will 
 rest here for some hours; but we must go long 
 before daylight to meet War-Eagle, according to 
 my promise." 
 
 " I will be ready," replied the youth ; and cast- 
 ing himself down on a bundle of straw, in 6ve 
 minutes his wounds and fatigues were forgotten in 
 a refreshing sleep, over which hovered the bright 
 dreams of youth, wherein the sweet tones of his 
 sister's voice were confused with the blue eyes of 
 Lucy; and yet withal a sleep, such as guilt can 
 never know, and the wealth of the Indies cannot 
 purchase. 
 
 Before three o'clock on the following morning, 
 the Guide re-entered the barn with a light step ; 
 not so light, however, as to escape the quick ear 
 of the young Indian, who leapt from his straw 
 couch, and throwing his rifle over his shoulder, 
 stood before the hunter. " I hope you slept well," 
 said the latter, " and that your arm gives you less 
 pain?" 
 
 " I slept till you came," said the boy, "and the 
 pain sleeps still. I feel nothing of it." 
 
 " Wingenund will be like his father," said the 
 Guide. " He will laugh at pain, and fatigue, and
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 217 
 
 danger; and his war-path will be sprinkled with 
 the blood of his enemies." 
 
 The youth drew himself proudly up, and though 
 gratified by the Guide's observation, merely re- 
 plied, "The Great Spirit knows. I am ready; 
 let us go." 
 
 Baptiste had provided a couple of horses, and 
 they started at a brisk pace, as he wished to reach 
 the spot where he had appointed to meet War- 
 Eagle soon after daylight. To one less familiar 
 with the woods, the tangled and winding path, 
 through which he led the way, would have offered 
 many impediments ; but Baptiste went rapidly for- 
 ward without hesitation or difficulty, Wingenund 
 following in silence ; and after a brisk ride of three 
 hours they came to an opening in the forest, where 
 a log-hut was visible, and beyond it the broad ex- 
 panse of Ohio's stream. 
 
 Thfc Guide here whispered to Wingenund to 
 remain concealed in the thicket with the horse?, 
 whilst he reconnoitered the hut; because he knew 
 that it was sometimes used as a shelter and a ren- 
 dezvous, by some of the lawless and desperate 
 characters on the borders of the settlements. 
 
 Having finished his examination, and ascertained 
 that the hut was empty, he returned to Winge- 
 
 VOL. i. L
 
 218 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 nund, and desired him to come down to the water's 
 edge, where he was to make a signal for War- 
 Eagle, who ought to be now at no great distance. 
 The youth accordingly went to the river's bank, 
 and understanding from the Guide that there was 
 no occasion for further concealment, he gave three 
 whistles in a peculiar tone, but exceedingly loud 
 and shrill. For some time they listened for a re- 
 ply. Nothing was heard, except the beak of the 
 woodpecker upon the bark of the elm, and the 
 notes of the various feathered choristers chirping 
 their matin song. 
 
 After a pause of several minutes, the Guide said, 
 " Surely some accident has detained War-Eagle ! 
 Perhaps he has failed in getting the canoe. Re- 
 peat the signal, Wingenund." 
 
 " War-Eagle is here," replied the youth, who was 
 quietly leaning on his rifle, with an abstracted air. 
 
 Again the Guide listened attentively; and as he 
 was unable to distinguish the slightest sound indi- 
 cative of the chief's approach, he was rather vexed 
 at the superior quickness implied in Wingenund's 
 reply, and said somewhat testily, " A moose might 
 hear something of him, or a bloodhound might 
 find the wind of him, but I can make out nothing, 
 and my ears an't used to be stuffed with cotton, 
 neither ! "
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 219 
 
 " Grande-Hache is a great warrior, and Win- 
 genund would be proud to follow in his war-path ; 
 eyes and ears are the gift of the Great Spirit." 
 
 " How know you that War-Eagle is here ?" in- 
 quired the Guide impatiently. 
 
 " By that," replied the boy, pointing to a scarcely 
 perceptible mark on the bank a few yards from his 
 feet, " that is the mocassin of the War-Eagle ; he 
 has been to the hut this morning ; below that foot- 
 print you will see on the sand the mark of where 
 his canoe has touched the ground. 1 " 
 
 " The boy is right," muttered Baptiste, examin- 
 ing the marks carefully. " I believe I am no hun- 
 ter, but an ass after all, with no better ears and 
 eyes than Master Perrot, or any other parlour- 
 boarder." 
 
 In a very few minutes the sound of the paddle 
 was heard, and War-Eagle brought his canoe to 
 the bank ; a brief conversation now took place be- 
 tween him and Baptiste, in which some particulars 
 were arranged for Reginald's visit to the Western 
 Prairie. The Guide then taking from his wallet 
 several pounds of bread and beef, and a large par- 
 cel of tobacco, added these to the stores in the 
 bottom of the canoe, and having shaken hands 
 heartily with the chief and Wingenund, returned 
 leisurely on his homeward way ; but he still mut- 
 
 L2
 
 220 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 tered to himself as he went; and it was evident 
 that he could not shake off the annoyance which 
 he felt at being "out-crafted," as he called it, "by 
 a boy ! " 
 
 We will not follow the tedious and toilsome 
 voyage of War-Eagle and his young friend, in the 
 canoe, a voyage in which after descending the 
 Ohio, they had to make their way up the Missis- 
 sippi to its junction with the Missouri, and thence 
 up the latter river to the mouth of the Osage 
 river, which they also ascended between two and 
 three hundred miles before they rejoined their 
 band. It is sufficient for the purposes of our tale 
 to inform the reader that they reached their des- 
 tination in safety, and that Wingenund recovered 
 from the effects of his severe wound. 
 
 When Baptiste returned to Mooshanne, he found 
 the family surprised and annoyed at the sudden 
 disappearance of their young Indian guest; but 
 when he explained to Reginald that he had gone 
 to rejoin his chief by War -Eagle's desire, Re- 
 ginald felt that the best course had been adopt- 
 ed, as the boy might, if he had remained, have 
 fallen in the way of the exasperated party who 
 were seeking to revenge Hervey's death. 
 
 It was about noon when Mike Smith, and se- 
 veral of those who accompanied him the preceding
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 221 
 
 day, arrived at Mooshanne, and insisted upon Bap- 
 tiste shewing them the spot where he had told 
 them that an Indian had been recently buried. 
 Reginald declined being of the party, which set 
 forth under the conduct of the Guide, to explore 
 the scene of the occurrences mentioned in a former 
 chapter. 
 
 During their absence, Reginald was lounging 
 in his sister's boudoir, talking with her over the 
 events of the preceding days, when they heard 
 the sound of a vehicle driven up to the door, 
 and the blood rushed' into Lucy's face as the 
 thought occurred to her that it might be Ethel- 
 ston ; the delusion was very brief, for a moment 
 afterwards the broad accent of David Muir was 
 clearly distinguishable, as he said to his daughter, 
 " Noo Jessie, haud a grip o" 1 Smiler, whilst I gie 
 a pull at the door-bell." 
 
 Much to the surprise of the worthy " Mer- 
 chaunt," (by which appellation David delighted to 
 be designated,) the door was opened by no less a 
 personage than Monsieur Gustave Perrot himself, 
 who seeing the pretty Jessie in her father's spring- 
 cart, hastened with characteristic gallantry, to assist 
 her to descend ; in the performance of which opera- 
 tion he extended both his hands to support her 
 waist, saying in his most tender tone, " Take care.
 
 222 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 Miss Jessie ; now shump, and trust all your leetle 
 weight with me." 
 
 But while he was speaking, the active girl put- 
 ting one foot on the step and touching him lightly 
 on the arm, stood on the ground beside him. 
 
 " Weel, Mr. Parrot, and how's a wi ye the day," 
 said David, who was busily employed in extracting 
 various packages and parcels from the cart. 
 
 " All ver 1 well, thank you, Mr. Muir ; wonderful 
 things happen, though. My young Mr. Reginald 
 he be drowned and stabbed, and quite well !" 
 
 " Gude save us!" said David, in horror; 
 " drowned, and stabbed, and quite well ! Ye Ye 
 surely no in earnest, Mr. Parrot ! " 
 
 "I speak only the truth always, Miss Jessie, 
 the fresh air and the ride make your cheek beau- 
 tiful rosy." 
 
 " Mr. Perrot," replied Jessie, smiling, " that is 
 a poor compliment ! You are so gallant a gentle- 
 man, you should praise the roses in a lady's cheek 
 without mentioning that she owes them to a rough 
 road and a fresh breeze ! " 
 
 This dialogue on roses was here interrupted by 
 David, who said, " May be, Mr. Parrot, ye '11 just 
 let Smiler be ta 'en round to the stable, and desire 
 ane o' the lads to help us in with these twa par- 
 cels; yon muckle basket, there, is brimfull of all
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 223 
 
 the newest kick-shaws, and modes, as they call 
 'em, frae Philadelphy, so Jessie's just come wi' 
 me, to gie Miss Lucy the first choice; and she's 
 a right to hae it too, for she's the bonniest and the 
 best young lady in the Territory." 
 
 Mr.- Parrot, having given these necessary orders, 
 David, with his papers, was soon closetted with 
 the colonel, in his business room ; and Jessie was 
 ushered into the young lady's boudoir, where her 
 brother still sat, with the intention of giving his 
 sister the benefit of his advice in the selection of, 
 what David called, kickshaws and modes, for her 
 toilet. Meanwhile Perrot was preparing a formid- 
 able attack upon Jessie's heart, through the me- 
 dium of some venison steaks, a delicate ragout of 
 squirrel, and sundry other tit-bits, with which he 
 hoped to propitiate the village beauty. As Jessie 
 entered the room, her salutation of Lucy was mo- 
 destly respectful ; and she returned Reginald's bow 
 with an unembarrassed and not ungraceful court- 
 esy. While she was drawing out, and placing on 
 a table, the silken contents of her basket, Reginald 
 inquired of her whether any news was stirring in 
 Marietta. 
 
 *' None," replied she, " except the killing of 
 Hervey. All the town is speaking of it, and they 
 say it will cause more bloodshed ; for Mike Smith
 
 224 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 vows, if he cannot find the real offender, he '11 shoot 
 down the first Indian he finds in the woods." 
 
 " Mike Smith is a hot-headed fool," replied 
 Reginald ; but remembering sundry reports which 
 had reached his ear, he added, " I beg your par- 
 don, Miss Jessie, if the words give you offence." 
 
 " Indeed you have given none, Master Regi- 
 nald," said Jessie, colouring a little at the implied 
 meaning of his words ; " Mike comes very often 
 to our store, but I believe it is more for whiskey 
 than anything else." 
 
 " Nay," said Reginald ; " I doubt you do him in- 
 justice. They say he prefers the end of the store 
 which is the furthest from the bar." 
 
 " Perhaps he may," replied Jessie ; " I am al- 
 ways better pleased when he stays away, for he is 
 very ill-tempered and quarrelsome! Well, miss," 
 continued she, "are not these pink ribbons beau- 
 tiful, and these two light shawls, they come from 
 the British East India House ?" 
 
 " They are indeed the prettiest and most deli- 
 cate that I ever saw," replied Lucy; "and see 
 here, Reginald," said she, drawing him aside, 
 " these French bead necklaces will do famously 
 for some of your Delaware friends." She added 
 in a whisper, " ask her if there is no other news 
 at the town?"
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 225 
 
 "What about," inquired her brother. A silent 
 look of reproach was ber only reply, as she turned 
 away, and again busied herself with the silks. He 
 was instantly conscious and ashamed of his thought- 
 lessness, which, after a few moments' silence, he 
 proceeded to repair, saying, " Pray tell me, Miss 
 Jessie, has your father received no intelligence of 
 the Pride of the Ohio.' " 
 
 " Alas ! not a word," replied the girl, in a tone 
 of voice so melancholy, that it startled them both. 
 
 " But why speak you in so sad a voice about the 
 vessel, Jessie, if you have heard no bad news re- 
 garding her?" said Reginald, quickly. 
 
 " Because, sir, she has been very long over-due, 
 and there are many reports of French ships of 
 war ; and we, that is, my father, is much interested 
 about her." 
 
 Poor Lucy's colour came and went ; but she had 
 not the courage to say a word. After a short 
 pause, Reginald inquired, " Have any boats come 
 up lately from New Orleans?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, Henderson's came up only a few 
 days ago, and Henry Gregson, who had been 
 down on some business for my father, returned 
 in her." 
 
 "That is the young man who assists your fa- 
 ther in the store ? I believe he is a son of the
 
 226 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 mate on board the Pride. I have remarked that 
 he is a very fine looking young fellow ! " 
 
 " He is the son of Captain Ethelston's mate," 
 said Jessie, casting down her eyes, and busying 
 herself with some of her ribbons and silks. " But 
 I hope," continued she, " that you, Mr. Reginald, 
 are not seriously hurt. Mr. Perrot told me you 
 had been drowned and stabbed ! " 
 
 " Not quite so bad as that," said Reginald, 
 laughing ; " I had, indeed, a swim in the Muskin- 
 gum, and a blow from a horse's hoof, but am none 
 the worse for either. Do not forget, Miss Jessie, 
 to send off a messenger immediately that any news 
 arrive of the Pride. You know what a favourite 
 she is, and how anxious we are here about her ! " 
 " Indeed I will not forget," replied Jessie. 
 Lucy sighed audibly; and after purchasing a 
 few ribbons and shawls, as well as a stock of beads 
 for her brother, she allowed Jessie to retire, beg- 
 ging, at the same time, her acceptance of one of 
 the prettiest shawls in her basket. As the latter 
 hesitated about receiving it, Lucy threw it over 
 the girl's shoulder, saying playfully, " Nay, Jessie, 
 no refusal; I am mistress here; and nobody, not 
 even Mr. Reginald, disputes my will in this room ? " 
 Jessie thanked the young lady, and saluting her 
 brother, withdrew to a back parlour, where Mon-
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 227 
 
 sieur Perrot had already prepared his good things, 
 and where her father only waited her coming to 
 commence a dinner which his drive had made de- 
 sirable, and which his olfactory nerves told him 
 was more savory than the viands set before him 
 at Marietta by Mrs. Christie. 
 
 "Call ye this a squirrel ragoo?" said the worthy 
 Merchaunt ; " weel now it 's an awfu' thing to 
 think how the Lord's gifts are abused in the auld 
 country ! I hae seen dizens o' they wee deevils 
 lilting and louping amaing the woods in the Lo- 
 thians; and yet the hungry chaps wha 1 can scarce 
 earn a basin o' porritch, or a pot o' kail to their 
 dinner, would as soon think o 1 eatin" 1 a stoat or a 
 foumart ! " 
 
 While making this observation, Davie was dis- 
 patching the " ragoo " with a satisfaction which 
 showed how completely he had overcome his insu- 
 lar prejudices. Nor were Perrons culinary atten- 
 tions altogether lost upon Miss Jessie ; for although 
 she might not repay them entirely according to the 
 wishes of the gallant Maitre d'Hotel, she could not 
 help acknowledging that he was a pleasant good- 
 humoured fellow, and that his abilities as a cook 
 were of the highest order. Accordingly, when he 
 offered her a foaming glass of cider, she drank it 
 to his health, with a glance of her merry eye suffi -
 
 228 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 cient to have turned the head of a man less vain 
 and amorous than Monsieur Perrot. 
 
 The dinner passed pleasantly enough; and as 
 David Muir drove his daughter back to Marietta, 
 his heart being warmed and expanded by the gene- 
 rous cider (which, for the good of his health, he 
 had crowned with a glass of old rum), he said, 
 " Jessie, I 'm thinkin, that Maister Parrot is a 
 douce and clever man ; a lassie might do waur than 
 tak' up wi the like o' him ! I 'se warrant his nest 
 will no be ill feathered ! " 
 
 " Perhaps not," replied Jessie ; and turning her 
 head away, she sighed, and thought of Henry 
 Gregson.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 229 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IN WHICH THE READER WILL FIND THAT THE COUCH OF AN 
 INVALID HAS PERILS NOT LESS FORMIDABLE THAN THOSE 
 WHICH ARE TO BE ENCOUNTERED AT SEA. 
 
 WE left Ethelston stretched on a sick couch in 
 Guadaloupe, in the house of Captain L'Estrange, 
 and tended by his daughter Nina, and by her 
 brother, the young lieutenant. The latter grew 
 daily more attached to the patient, who had been 
 his captor, and was now his prisoner ; but he was 
 obliged, as soon as Ethelston was pronounced out 
 of danger, to sail for Europe, as he was anxious 
 to obtain that professional distinction which his 
 parole prevented his gaining in service against the 
 United States. And in France there seemed a 
 promising harvest of combat and of glory, sufficient 
 to satisfy the martial enthusiasm even of the most 
 adventurous of her sons. When he sailed, he again 
 and again pressed upon his sister to bestow every 
 attention upon Ethelston ; and as the Captain was
 
 230 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 much busied with his command, and as Madame 
 L'Estrange was entirely devoted to her boudoir, 
 where, with two chattering parrots to amuse 
 her, and a little black girl to fan her while list- 
 lessly poring over the pages of Florian in a fau- 
 teuil, the whole charge devolved upon the willing 
 and kind-hearted Nina. She was the third and 
 youngest daughter of Monsieur and Madame 
 LTEstrange: but (her two elder sisters being mar- 
 ried) she was the only one resident with her 
 parents. 
 
 Sixteen summers had now passed over her, and 
 her disposition was like that of her brother. 
 frank, impetuous, and warm-hearted. Her feel- 
 ings had never been guided or regulated by her 
 handsome, but indolent mother; her mind had 
 been allowed to seek its food at hap-hazard, among 
 the romances, poems, and plays upon the shelves 
 in the drawing-room. Her father spoilt, and her 
 brother petted her. A governess also she had, 
 whom she governed, and to whose instructions she 
 owed little, except a moderate proficiency in music. 
 Her countenance was a very beautiful mirror, re- 
 flecting the warm and impassioned features of 
 her character. Her complexion was dark, though 
 clear, and her hair black and glossy. The pen- 
 cilling of her eyebrows was exceedingly delicate ;
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 231 
 
 and the eyes themselves were large, speaking, and 
 glowing with that humid lustre, which distin- 
 guishes Creole beauty. Nothing could exceed the 
 rosy fulness of her lip, and the even whiteness 
 of the teeth which her joyous smile disclosed. 
 Her figure was exquisitely proportioned; and her 
 every movement a very model of natural grace. 
 She seemed, indeed, impregnated with the fervour 
 of the sunny climate in which she had been reared ; 
 and her temper, her imagination, her passions, all 
 glowed with its ardent, but dangerous warmth. 
 According to the usage of her country, she had 
 been betrothed, when a child, to a neighbouring 
 planter, one of the richest in the island ; but as 
 he was absent in Europe, and there remained yet 
 two years before the time fixed for the fulfilment 
 of the contract, she rarely troubled her head about 
 the marriage, or her future destiny. 
 
 Such was the girl who now officiated- as nurse 
 to Ethelston, and who, before she had seen him, 
 had gathered from her brother such traits of his 
 character, as had called forth all the interest and 
 sympathy of her romantic disposition. Although 
 * not eminently handsome, we have before noted 
 that his countenance was manly and expressive, 
 and his manners courteous and engaging. Perhaps 
 also the weakness remaining after the crisis of his
 
 232 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 fever, imparted, to the usually gentle expression 
 of his features, that touching attraction, which is 
 called by a modern poet " a loving languor." At 
 all events, certain it is, that ere poor Nina had 
 administered the third saline draught to her grate- 
 ful patient, her little heart beat vehemently ; and 
 when she had attended his feverish couch one short 
 week, she was desperately in love ! 
 
 How fared it in the meantime with Ethelston? 
 Did his heart run any risk from the dark eloquent 
 eyes, and the gracefully rounded form of the minis- 
 tering angel who hovered about his sick room? 
 At present none, for Lucy was shrined there ; and 
 he had been taught by young L'Estrange to con- 
 sider his sister in the light of a nursery-girl, still 
 under the dominion of the governess. 
 
 Days and weeks elapsed, Ethelston's recovery 
 progressed, and he was able to stroll in the shade 
 of the orange and citron-groves, which sheltered 
 Captain L'Estrange's villa to the northward. Here, 
 with his eyes fixed on the sea, would he sometimes 
 sit for hours, and devise schemes for returning to 
 his home. On these occasions he was frequently 
 accompanied by Nina, who walked by his side 
 with her guitar in her hand ; and under the pre- 
 tence of receiving instructions from him in music, 
 she would listen with delight, and hang with rap-
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 233 
 
 ture, on every syllable that he uttered. Though 
 he could not avoid being sensible of her ripening 
 beauty, his heart was protected by the seven-fold 
 shield of a deep and abiding attachment; and as 
 he still looked upon Nina as a lovely girl, com- 
 pleting her education in the nursery, he gladly 
 gave her all the assistance that she asked under 
 her musical difficulties; and this he was able to 
 do, from having made no small proficiency in the 
 science during his long residence in Germany. 
 Sometimes he paid his respects to Madame L'Es- 
 trange ; but that lady was so indolent, and so ex- 
 clusively devoted to her parrots and her lap-dog, 
 that his visits to her were neither frequent, nor of 
 long duration. The Captain was very seldom 
 ashore ; and thus Ethelston was obliged to spend 
 his time alone, or in the society of the young 
 girl who had nursed him so kindly during his ill- 
 ness. Her character seemed to have undergone 
 a sudden and complete change. The conquering 
 god, who had at first only taken possession of the 
 outworks of her fancy, had now made himself 
 master of the citadel of her heart. She loved 
 with all the intense, absorbing passion of a na- 
 ture that had never known control. The gaiety 
 and buoyancy of her spirits had given place to 
 a still, deep flood of feeling, which her reason
 
 234 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 never attempted to restrain. Even when with 
 him she spoke little. Her happiness was too 
 intense to find a vent in words ; and thus she 
 nursed and fed a flame, that needed only the 
 breath of accident to make it burst forth with a 
 violence that should burn up, or overleap all the 
 barriers of self-control. 
 
 Nor must the reader imagine that Ethelston was 
 dull or blind, because he observed not the state 
 of Nina's affections. His own were firmly rooted 
 elsewhere ; he was neither of a vain, nor a romantic 
 disposition; and he had been duly informed by 
 Monsieur L'Estrange, that in the course of two 
 years Nina was to be married to Monsieur Ber- 
 trand, the young planter, to whom, as we have 
 before mentioned, she had been betrothed by her 
 parents since her thirteenth year. He could not 
 help seeing that although her intellect was quick, 
 and her character enthusiastic, her education had 
 been shamefully neglected both by Madame L'Es- 
 trange and the governess. Hence he spoke, coun- 
 selled, and sometimes chid her, in the tone of an 
 elder brother, heedless of the almost impercep- 
 tible line that separates friendship from love 
 in the bosom of a girl nurtured under a West 
 Indian sun. 
 
 In this state were matters, when, on a fine
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 235 
 
 evening, Ethelston strolled alone into his favourite 
 orange-grove, to look out upon the ocean, and in 
 the enjoyment of its refreshing breeze, to ruminate 
 on his strange captivity, and revolve various plans 
 of escape. 
 
 Captain L'Estrange had paid a visit to his home 
 on the preceding day, and finding his prisoner so 
 completely restored to health and strength, had 
 said to him, jokingly, " Indeed, fair sir, I think I 
 must put you on your parole, or in chains; for 
 after the character given of you by my son, I can- 
 not allow so dangerous a person to be at large 
 during the continuance of hostilities between our 
 respective nations." 
 
 Ethelston answered half in earnest, and half in 
 jest, " Nay, sir, then I must wear the chains, for 
 assuredly I cannot give my parole; if an American 
 vessel were to come in sight, or any other means 
 of flight to offer itself, depend upon it, in spite of 
 the kindness and hospitality I have met with here, 
 I should weigh anchor in a moment." 
 
 " Well, that is a fair warning," said the old 
 Commodore; "nevertheless I will not lock you 
 up just yet, for I do not think it very likely that 
 any strange sail will come under the guns of our 
 fort ; and I will run the risk of your flying away 
 on the back of a sea-gull.' 1 Thus had they
 
 236 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 parted; and the old gentleman was again absent 
 on a cruise. 
 
 Ethelston was, as we have said, reclining list- 
 lessly under an orange-tree, inhaling the cool 
 breeze, laden with the fragrance of its blossoms, 
 now devising impossible plans of escape, and 
 now musing on a vision of Lucy's graceful figure 
 gliding among the deep woods around Mooshanne. 
 As these thoughts passed through his mind, they 
 imparted a melancholy shade to his brow, and a 
 deep sigh escaped from his lips. 
 
 It was echoed by one yet deeper, close to his 
 ear ; and starting from his reverie, he beheld Nina, 
 who had approached him unawares, and who, lean- 
 ing on her guitar, had been for the last few minutes 
 gazing on his countenance with an absorbed inten- 
 sity, more fond and riveted than that with which 
 the miser regards his treasure, or the widowed 
 mother her only child. 
 
 When she found herself perceived, she came 
 forward, and covering her emotion under an as- 
 sumed gaiety, she said, " What is my kind instruc- 
 tor thinking of? He seems more grave and sad 
 than usual." 
 
 " He is thinking," said Ethelston, good-hu- 
 mouredly, " that he ought to scold a certain young 
 lady very severely for coming upon him slily, and
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 237 
 
 witnessing that gravity and sadness in which a 
 captive must sometimes indulge, but which her 
 presence has already dissipated." 
 
 " Nay," said Nina, still holding her guitar, and 
 sitting down on the bank near him ; " you know 
 that I am only obeying papa's orders in watching 
 you ; for he says you would not give your parole, 
 and I am sure you were thinking of your escape 
 from Guadaloupe." 
 
 " Perhaps you might have guessed more wide of 
 the mark, Mademoiselle Nina," said Ethelston. 
 
 " And are you then so very anxious to to see 
 your home again ? " inquired Nina, hesitating. 
 
 " Judge for yourself, Nina," he replied, " when 
 I remind you that for many months I have heard 
 nothing of those who have been my nearest and 
 dearest friends from childhood; nothing of the 
 brave men who were captured with me when our 
 poor brig was lost ! " 
 
 " Tell me about your friends, and your home. 
 Is it very beautiful? Have you the warm sun, 
 and the fresh sea-breeze, and the orange-flowers, 
 that we have here ?" 
 
 " Scarcely," replied Ethelston, smiling at the 
 earnest rapidity with which the beautiful girl based 
 her inquiries on the scene before her; "but we 
 have in their place rivers on the bosom of which
 
 238 THE PRAIRIE- BIRD. 
 
 your father's frigate might sail ; groves and woods 
 of deep shade, impenetrable to the rays of the 
 hottest sun: and prairies smiling with the most 
 brilliant and variegated flowers." 
 
 " Oh ! how I should love to see that land !" 
 exclaimed Nina, her fervid imagination instantly 
 grasping and heightening its beauties. " How I 
 should love to dwell there ! " 
 
 " Nay, it appears to me not unlikely that you 
 should at some time visit it," replied Ethelston. 
 " This foolish war between our countries will soon 
 be over, and your father may wish to see a region 
 the scenery of which is so magnificent, and which 
 is not difficult of access from here." 
 
 " Papa will never leave these islands, unless he 
 goes to France, and that he hates," said Nina. 
 
 "Well then," continued Ethelston, smiling, as 
 he alluded for the first time to her marriage, " you 
 must defer your American trip a year or two 
 longer ; then, doubtless, Monsieur Bertrand will 
 gladly gratify your desire to see the Mississippi." 
 
 Nina started as if stung by an adder ; the blood 
 rushed and mantled over her face and neck; her 
 eyes glowed with indignation, as she exclaimed, " I 
 abhor and detest Monsieur Bertrand. I would die 
 before I would marry him ! " Then adding in a low 
 voice, the sadness of which went to his heart, "and
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 239 
 
 this from you too ! " She covered her face with 
 her hands and wept. 
 
 Never was man more astonished than Ethelston 
 at the sudden storm which he had inadvertently 
 raised. Remembering that Madame L'Estrange 
 had told him of the engagement as being known 
 to Nina, he had been led to suppose from her 
 usual flow of spirits, that the prospect was far from 
 being disagreeable to her. Young L'Estrange had 
 also told him that Bertrand was a good-looking 
 man, of high character, and considered, from his 
 wealth, as the best match in the French islands; 
 so that Ethelston was altogether unprepared for 
 the violent aversion which Nina now avowed for 
 the marriage, and for the grief by which she 
 seemed so deeply agitated. Still he was as far as 
 ever from divining the true cause of her emotion, 
 and conjectured that she had probably formed an 
 attachment to one of the young officers .on board 
 her father's ship. Under this impression he took 
 her hand, and sympathising with the grief of one 
 so fair and so young, he said to her, kindly, " For- 
 give me, Nina, if I have said anything to hurt 
 your feelings ; indeed I always have believed that 
 your engagement to Monsieur Bertrand was an 
 affair settled by your parents entirely with your 
 consent I am sure Monsieur L'Estrange loves
 
 240 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 his favourite child too well to compel her to a 
 marriage against her inclination. Will you per- 
 mit your Mentor (as you have more than once 
 allowed me to call myself) to speak with him on 
 the subject?" 
 
 Nina made no reply, and the tears coursed each 
 other yet faster down her cheek. 
 
 " Your brother is absent," continued Ethelston; 
 " you seem not to confide your little secrets to 
 your mother will you not let me aid you by my 
 advice ? I am many years older than you. I am 
 deeply grateful for all your kindness during my 
 tedious illness; believe me, I will, if you will only 
 trust me, advise you with the affectionate interest 
 of a parent, or an elder brother." 
 
 The little hand trembled violently in his, but 
 still no reply escaped from Nina's lips. 
 
 " If you will not tell me your secret," pursued 
 Ethelston, "I must guess it. Your aversion to 
 the engagement arises not so much from your dis- 
 like to Monsieur Bertrand, as from your prefer- 
 ence of some other whom perhaps your parents 
 would not approve ? " 
 
 The hand was withdrawn, being employed in an 
 ineffectual attempt to check her tears. The slight 
 fillet which bound her black tresses had given way, 
 and they now fell in disorder, veiling the deep
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 241 
 
 crimson glow which again mantled over the neck 
 of the weeping girl. 
 
 Ethelston gazed on her with emotions of deep 
 sympathy. There was a reality, a dignity about 
 her speechless grief that must have moved a 
 sterner heart than his; and as he looked upon 
 the heaving of her bosom, and upon the exquisite 
 proportions unconsciously developed in her atti- 
 tude, he suddenly felt that he was speaking, not 
 to a child in the nursery, but to a girl in whose 
 form and heart the bud and blossom of woman- 
 hood were thus early ripened. It was, therefore, 
 in a tone, not less kind, but more respectful than 
 he had hitherto used, that he said, " Nay, Nina, 
 I desire not to pry into your secrets I only wish 
 to assure you of the deep sympathy which I feel 
 with your sorrow, and of my desire to aid or com- 
 fort you by any means within my power ; but if 
 my curiosity offends you, I will retire in the hope 
 that your own gentle thoughts may soon afford you 
 relief." 
 
 Again the little hand was laid upon his arm, 
 as Nina, still weeping, whispered, " No, no, you 
 do not offend me. Do not leave me, I entreat 
 you!" 
 
 A painful silence ensued, and Ethelston more 
 than ever confirmed in the belief that she had be- 
 
 VOL. i. M
 
 242 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 stowed her affections on some young middy, or 
 lieutenant, under her father's command, continued 
 in a tone which he attempted to render gay : 
 "Well then, Nina, since you will not give your 
 confidence to Mentor, he must appoint himself 
 your confessor; and to commence, he is right in 
 believing that your dislike to Monsieur Bertrand 
 arises from your having given your heart else- 
 where ? " 
 
 There was no reply ; but her head was bowed in 
 token of acquiescence ! 
 
 " I need not inquire," pursued he, " whether 
 the object of your choice is, in rank and character, 
 worthy of your affection?" 
 
 In an instant the drooping head was raised, and 
 the dark tresses thrown back from her brow, as, 
 with her eyes flashing through the moisture by 
 which they were still bedewed, Nina replied, 
 " Worthy ! worthy the affection of a queen !" 
 
 Ethelston, startled by her energy, was about to 
 resume his inquiries, when Nina, whose excited 
 spirit triumphed for the moment over all restraint, 
 stopped him, saying, " I will spare you the trouble 
 of further questions. I will tell you freely, that 
 till lately, very lately, I cared for none. Monsieur 
 Bertrand and all others were alike to me ; but fate 
 threw a stranger in my path. He was a friend of
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 243 
 
 my brother; he was wounded. For hours and 
 hours I watched by his couch; he revived; 
 his looks were gentle; his voice was music. I 
 drew counsel from his lips ; he filled my thoughts, 
 my dreams, my heart, my being! But he he 
 considered me only as a silly child ; he under- 
 stood not my heart; he mocked my agony; he 
 saved my brother's life, and is now accomplishing 
 the sister's death ! " 
 
 The excitement which supported Nina during 
 the commencement of this speech, gradually died 
 away. Towards its close, her voice grew tremu- 
 lous, and as the last words escaped her quivering 
 lips, exhausted nature gave way under the burden 
 of her emotion, and she fainted ! 
 
 The feelings of Ethelston may be better ima- 
 gined than described. As the dreadful import of 
 the poor girl's words gradually broke upon him, 
 his cheeks grew paler and paler; and when, at 
 their conclusion, her senseless form lay extended 
 at his feet, the cold dew of agony stood in drops 
 upon his forehead ! But Nina's condition de- 
 manded immediate aid and attention. Mastering 
 himself by a powerful effort, he snatched a lemon 
 from a neighbouring tree ; he cut it in half, and 
 sustaining the still insensible girl, he chafed her 
 hands, and rubbed her temples with the cool re- 
 
 M 2
 
 244 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 freshing juice of the fruit. After a time, he had 
 the consolation of seeing her restored gradually to 
 her senses ; and a faint smile came over her coun- 
 tenance as she found herself supported by his arm. 
 Still she closed her eyes, as if in a happy dream, 
 which Ethelston could not bring himself to disturb ; 
 and, as the luxuriant black tresses only half veiled 
 the touching beauty of her countenance, he groaned 
 at the reflection that he had inadvertently been the 
 means of shedding the blight of unrequited love on 
 a budding flower of such exquisite loveliness. A 
 long silence ensued, softened, rather than inter- 
 rupted, by the low wind as it whispered through 
 the leaves of the orange grove; while the sur- 
 rounding landscape, and the wide expanse of 
 ocean, glowed with the red golden tints of the 
 parting sun. No unplighted heart could have re- 
 sisted all the assailing temptations of that hour. 
 But Ethelston's heart was not unplighted ; and 
 the high principle and generous warmth of his 
 nature served only to deepen the pain and sad- 
 ness of the present moment. He formed, how- 
 ever, his resolution; and as soon as he found that 
 Nina was restored to consciousness and to a cer- 
 tain degree of composure, he gently withdrew 
 the arm which had supported her, and said, in a 
 voice of most melancholy earnestness, " Dear
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 245 
 
 Nina ! I will not pretend to misunderstand what 
 you have said. I have much to tell you; but I 
 have not now enough command over myself to 
 speak, while you are still too agitated to listen. 
 Meet me here to-morrow at this same hour ; mean- 
 while, I entreat you, recal those harsh and unkind 
 thoughts which you entertained of me; and believe 
 me, dear, dear sister, that I would, rather than 
 have mocked your feelings, have died on that fe- 
 verish couch, from which your care revived me." 
 So saying, he hastened from her presence in a 
 tumult of agitation scarcely less than her own. 
 
 For a long time she sat motionless, in a kind of 
 waking dream ; his parting words yet dwelt in her 
 ear, and her passionate heart construed them now 
 according to its own wild throbbings, now accord- 
 ing to its gloomiest fears. " He has much to tell 
 me," mused she ; " he called me dear Nina ; he 
 spoke not in a voice of indifference; his eye was 
 full of a troubled expression that I could not read. 
 Alas ! alas, 'twas only pity ! He called me ' dear 
 sister !' what can he mean ? Oh that to-morrow 
 were come ! I shall not outlive the night unless 
 I can believe that he loves me !" And then she fell 
 again into a reverie; during which all the looks 
 and tones that her partial fancy had interpreted, 
 and her too faithful memory had treasured, were
 
 246 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 recalled, and repeated in a thousand shapes ; until 
 exhausted by her agitation, and warned by the 
 darkness of the hour, Nina retired to her sleepless 
 couch. 
 
 Meanwhile Ethelston, when he found himself 
 alone in his room, scrutinized with the most un- 
 sparing severity his past conduct, endeavouring to 
 remember every careless or unheeded word by 
 which he could have awakened or encouraged her 
 unsuspected affection. He could only blame him- 
 self that he had not been more observant; that he 
 had considered Nina too much in the light of a 
 child ; and had habitually spoken to her in a tone 
 of playful and confidential familiarity. Thus, 
 though his conscience acquitted him of the most 
 remote intention of trifling with her feelings, he 
 accused himself of having neglected to keep a 
 watchful guard over his language and behaviour, 
 and resolved, at the risk of incurring her anger 
 or her hatred, to tell her firmly and explicitly on 
 the morrow, that he could not requite her attach- 
 ment as it deserved, his heart having been long 
 and faithfully devoted to another.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 24*7 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 -NARRATING THE TRIALS AND DANGERS THAT BESET KTHEL3TON ; 
 AND HOW HE ESCAPED FROM THEM, AND FROM THE ISLAND 
 OF GUADALOUPE. 
 
 THE night succeeding the occurrences related 
 in the last chapter brought little rest to the pil- 
 low either of Nina or of Ethelston; and on the 
 following day, as if by mutual agreement, they 
 avoided each other's presence, until the hour ap- 
 pointed for their meeting again in the orange 
 grove. Ethelston was firmly resolved to explain 
 to her unreservedly his long engagement to Lucy, 
 hoping that the feelings of Nina would prove, in 
 this instance, rather impetuous than permanent. 
 The tedious day appeared to her as if it never 
 would draw to a close. She fled from her mother, 
 and from the screaming parrots; she tried the 
 guitar, but it seemed tuneless and discordant; her 
 pencil and her book were, by turns, taken up, and 
 as soon laid aside; she strolled even at mid-day 
 into the orange grove, to the spot where she had
 
 248 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 last sat by him, and a blush stole over her cheek 
 when she remembered that she had been betrayed 
 into an avowal of her love; and then came the 
 doubt, the inquiry, whether he felt any love for 
 her? Thus did she muse and ponder, until the 
 hours, which in the morning had appeared to 
 creep so slowly over the face of the dial, now 
 glided unconsciously forward. The dinner-hour 
 had passed unheeded; and before she had sum- 
 moned any of the courage and firmness which she 
 meant to call to her aid, Ethelston stood before 
 her. He was surprised at finding Nina on this 
 spot, and had approached it long before the ap- 
 pointed time, in order that he might prepare him- 
 self for the difficult and painful task which he 
 had undertaken. But though unprepared, his 
 mind was of too firm and regulated a character 
 to be surprised out of a fixed determination; 
 and he came up and offered his hand to Nina, 
 greeting her in his accustomed tone of familiar 
 friendship. She received his salutation with evi- 
 dent embarrassment ; her hand and her voice 
 trembled, and her bosom throbbed in a tumult 
 of anxiety and expectation. Ethelston saw that 
 he could not defer the promised explanation ; and 
 he commenced it with his usual gentleness of 
 manner, but with a firm resolve that he would
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 249 
 
 be honest and explicit in his language. He be- 
 gan by referring to his long illness, and, with 
 gratitude, to her care and attention during its 
 continuance ; he assured her, that having been 
 told both by Madame L'Estrange and her brother, 
 that she was affianced to Monsieur Bertrand, he 
 had accustomed himself to look on her as a 
 younger sister, and, as such, had ventured to offer 
 her advice and instruction in her studies. He 
 knew not, he dreamt not, that she could ever look 
 upon him in any other light than that of a Mentor. 
 
 Here he paused a moment, and continued in 
 a deeper and more earnest tone, " Nina dear 
 Nina, we must be as Mentor and his pupil to 
 each other, or we must part. I will frankly lay 
 my heart open to you. I will conceal nothing ; 
 then you will not blame me, and will, I hope, 
 permit me to remain your grateful friend and 
 brother. Nina, I am not blind either to your 
 beauty, or to the many, many graces of your 
 disposition. I do full justice to the warmth and 
 truth of your affections : you deserve, when loved, 
 to be loved with a whole heart " 
 
 <{ O spare this ! " interrupted Nina, in a hurried 
 whisper; " Spare this, speak of yourself!" 
 
 " I was even about to do so," continued Ethel- 
 ston ; " but, Nina, such a heart I have not to give.
 
 250 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 For many months and years, before I ever saw 
 or knew you, I have loved, and still am betrothed 
 to another. 1 ' 
 
 A cold shudder seemed to pass through Nina's 
 frame while these few words were spoken, as if 
 in a moment the health, the hope, the blossom 
 of her youth were blighted ! Not a tear, not even 
 a sob gave relief to her agony; her bloodless 
 lip trembled in a vain attempt to speak she knew 
 not what, and a burning chill sat upon her heart. 
 These words may appear to some strange and 
 contradictory : happy, thrice happy ye, to whom 
 they so appear J If you have never known what 
 it is to feel at once a scorching heat parching the 
 tongue, and drying up all the well-springs of life 
 within, while a leaden weight of ice seems to be- 
 numb the heart, then have you never known the 
 sharpest, extreme pangs of disappointed love ! 
 
 Ethelston was prepared for some sudden and 
 violent expression on the part of Nina, but this 
 death-like, motionless silence almost overpowered 
 him. He attempted, by the gentlest and the 
 kindest words, to arouse her from this stupor of 
 grief. He took her hand ; its touch was cold. 
 Again and again he called her name ; but her ear 
 seemed insensible even to his voice. At length,
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 251 
 
 unable to bear the sight of her distress, and fear- 
 ful that he might no longer restrain his tongue 
 from uttering words which would be treason to 
 his first and faithful love, he rushed into the 
 house, and hastily informing Nina's governess that 
 her pupil had been suddenly taken ill in the 
 olive-grove, he locked himself in his room, and 
 gave vent to the contending emotions by which he 
 was oppressed. 
 
 It was in vain that he strove to calm himself 
 by the reflection that he had intentionally trans- 
 gressed none of the demands of truth and honour ; 
 it was in vain that he called up all the long- 
 cherished recollections of his Lucy and his home ; 
 still the image of Nina would not be banished ; 
 now presenting itself as he had seen her yester- 
 day, in the full glow of passion, and in the full 
 bloom of youthful beauty, and now, as he had 
 just left her, in the deadly paleness and fixed apathy 
 of despair. The terrible thought that, whether 
 guiltily or innocently, he had been the cause of 
 all this suffering in one to whom he owed pro- 
 tection and gratitude, wrung his heart with pain 
 that he could not repress; and he found relief 
 only in falling on his knees, and praying to the 
 Almighty that the sin might not be laid to his
 
 252 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 charge, and that Nina's sorrow might be soothed 
 and comforted by Him, who is the God of conso- 
 lation. 
 
 Meanwhile the governess had, with the assist- 
 ance of two of the negro attendants, brought 
 Nina into the house. The poor girl continued in 
 the same state of insensibility to all that was pass- 
 ing around ; her eyes were open, but she seemed 
 to recognize no one, and a few vague indistinct 
 words still trembled on her lips. 
 
 The doctor was instantly summoned, who pro- 
 nounced, as soon as he had seen his patient, that 
 she was in a dangerous fit, using sundry myste- 
 rious expressions about " febrile symptoms, 1 " and 
 " pressure on the brain,"" to which the worthy 
 leech added shakings of the head yet more mys- 
 terious. 
 
 For many days her condition continued alarm- 
 ing ; the threatened fever came, and with it a pro- 
 tracted state of delirium. During this period 
 Ethelston's anxiety and agitation were extreme; 
 and proportionate was the relief that he expe- 
 rienced, when he learnt that the crisis was past, 
 and that the youthful strength of her constitution 
 promised speedy recovery. 
 
 Meanwhile he had to endure the oft-repeated 
 inquiries of the Governess, "How h5 happened
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 253 
 
 to find Mademoiselle just as the fit came on?" 
 and of Madame L'Estrange, " How it was pos- 
 sible for Nina to be attacked by so sudden an 
 illness, while walking in the orange-grove ? " 
 
 When she was at length pronounced out of 
 danger, Ethelston again began to consider various 
 projects for his meditated escape from the island. 
 He had more than once held communication with 
 his faithful Cupid on the subject, who was ready 
 to brave all risks in the service of his master ; 
 but the distance which must be traversed, before 
 they could expect to find a friendly ship or coast, 
 seemed to exclude all reasonable hope of success. 
 
 It would be impossible to follow and pourtray 
 the thousand changes that came over Nina's spirit 
 during her recovery. She remembered but too well 
 the words that Ethelston had last spoken ; at one 
 moment she called him perfidious, ungrateful, 
 heartless ; then she chid herself for railing at him, 
 and loaded his name with every blessing, and the 
 expression of the fondest affection; now she re- 
 solved that she would never see nor speak to 
 him more; then she thought that she must see 
 him, if it were only to show how she had con- 
 quered her weakness. Amidst all these contend- 
 ing resolutions, she worked herself into the belief 
 that Ethelston had deceived her, and that, because
 
 254 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 he thought her a child, and did not love her, he 
 had invented the tale of his previous engagement 
 to lessen her mortification. This soon became her 
 settled conviction ; and when it crossed her mind, 
 she would start with passion and exclaim, " He 
 shall yet love me, and me, alone ! " 
 
 The only confidant of her love was a young 
 negress who waited upon her, and who was in- 
 deed so devoted to her that she would have braved 
 the Commodore's utmost wrath, or perilled her 
 life to execute her mistress' commands. 
 
 It happened one evening that this girl, whose 
 name was Fanchette, went out to gather some 
 fruit in the orange-grove ; and while thus em- 
 ployed she heard the voice of some one speaking. 
 On drawing nearer to the spot whence the sound 
 proceeded, she saw Ethelston sitting under the 
 deep shade of a tree, with what appeared a book 
 before him. 
 
 Knowing that Nina was still confined to her 
 room, he had resorted hither to consider his 
 schemes without interruption, and was so busily 
 employed in comparing distances, and calculating 
 possibilities, on the map before him, that Fan- 
 chette easily crept to a place whence she could, 
 unperceived, overhear and observe him. " I must 
 and will attempt it," he muttered aloud to him-
 
 THE PRAIRIE- BIRD. 255 
 
 self, " we must steal a boat. Cupid and I can 
 manage it between us ; my duty and my love both 
 forbid my staying longer here ; with a fishing-boat 
 we might reach Antigua or Dominica, or at all 
 events chance to fall in with an American or a 
 neutral vessel. Poor dear Nina," he added, in a 
 lower tone. " Would to God I had never visited 
 this shore ! this," he continued, drawing a locket 
 from his breast, " this treasured remembrance of 
 one far distant has made me proof against thy 
 charms, cold to thy love, but not, as Heaven is 
 my witness, unmoved or insensible to thy suffer- 
 ings." So saying he relapsed into silent musing, 
 and as he replaced the locket, Fanchette crept 
 noiselessly from her concealment, and ran to com- 
 municate to her young mistress her version of 
 what she had seen. Being very imperfectly skilled 
 in English, she put her own construction upon 
 those few words which she had caught, and 
 thought to serve Nina best by telling her what 
 she would most like to hear. Thus she described 
 to her how Ethelston had spoken to himself over 
 a map; how he had mentioned islands to which 
 he would sail ; how he had named her name with 
 tenderness, and had taken something from his vest 
 to press it to his lips."" 
 
 Poor Nina listened in a tumult of joy ; her pas-
 
 256 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD.' 
 
 sionate heart would admit no doubting suggestion 
 of her reason. She was too happy to bear even 
 the presence of Fanchette, and rewarding her for 
 her good news by the present of a beautiful shawl 
 which she wore at the moment, pushed the de- 
 lighted little negress out of the room, and threw 
 herself on her couch, where she repeated a hun- 
 dred times that he had been to her orange-grove, 
 where they had last parted, had named her name 
 with tenderness, had pressed some token to his 
 lips what could that be ? It might be a flower, 
 a book, anything it mattered not so long as she 
 only knew he loved her ! Having long wept with 
 impassioned joy, she determined to show herself 
 worthy of his love, and the schemes which she 
 formed, and resolved to carry into effect, evinced 
 the wild force and energy of her romantic charac- 
 ter. Among her father's slaves was one who, being 
 a steady and skilful seaman, had the charge of a 
 schooner (originally an American prize) which lay 
 in the harbour, and which the Commodore some- 
 times used as a pleasure-yacht, or for short trips 
 to other parts of the island: this man (whose name 
 was Jacques) was not only a great favourite with 
 the young lady, but was also smitten with the 
 black eyes and plump charms of M'amselle Fan- 
 chette, who thus exercised over him a sway little
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 257 
 
 short of absolute. Nina having held a conference 
 with her abigail, sent for Jacques, who was also 
 admitted to a confidential consultation, the result 
 of which, after occurrences will explain to the 
 reader. When this was over, she acquired rather 
 than assumed a sudden composure and cheerful- 
 ness ; the delights of a plot seemed at once to re- 
 store her to health ; and on the following day she 
 sent to request that Ethelston would come to see 
 her in her boudoir where she received him with a 
 calmness and self-possession for which he was alto- 
 gether unprepared. "Mr. Ethelston," said she, 
 as soon as he was seated, " I believe you still 
 desire to escape from your prison, and that you 
 are devising various plans for effecting that object; 
 you will never succeed unless you call me into 
 your counsel." 
 
 Ethelston, though extremely surprised at the 
 composure of her manner and language, replied 
 with a smile, "M'amselle Nina, I will not deny 
 that you have rightly guessed my thoughts; but 
 as your father is my jailor, I did not dare to ask 
 your counsel in this matter." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Mentor," said the wayward girl, 
 " how does your wisdom propose to act without my 
 counsel?" 
 
 " I confess I am somewhat at a loss," said
 
 258 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 Ethelston, good-humouredly ; "I must go either 
 through the air or the water, and the latter, being 
 my proper element, is the path which I would 
 rather attempt" 
 
 " And what should you think of me, if I were to 
 play the traitoress, and aid you in eluding the 
 vigilance of my father, and afford the means of 
 escape to so formidable an enemy ? " 
 
 Ethelston was completely puzzled by this play- 
 ful tone of banter in one whom he had last seen 
 under a paroxysm of passion, and in whose dark 
 eye there yet lurked an expression which he could 
 not define ; but he resolved to continue the conver- 
 sation in the same spirit, and replied " I would 
 not blame you for this act of filial disobedience, 
 and though no longer your father's prisoner, I 
 would, if I escaped, ever remain his friend." 
 
 " And would you show no gratitude to the lady 
 who effected your release ? " 
 
 " I owe her already more far more, than I can 
 pay ; and, for this last crowning act of her genero- 
 sity and kindness, I would " 
 
 As he hesitated, she inquired, abruptly, "You 
 would what, Ethelston?" For a moment she 
 had forgotten the part she was acting, and both 
 the look that accompanied these words, and the 
 tone in which they were pronounced, reminded
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 259 
 
 him that he stood on the brink of a volcanic 
 crater. 
 
 " I would give her any proof of my gratitude 
 that she would deign to accept, yes any" he re- 
 peated earnestly, " even to life itself, knowing that 
 she is too noble and generous to accept aught at 
 my hands which faith and honour forbid me to 
 offer." 
 
 Nina turned aside for a moment, overcome by 
 her emotion; but recovering herself quickly, she 
 added, in her former tone of pleasantry, " She will 
 not impose any hard conditions ; but to the pur- 
 pose, has your sailor-eye noticed a certain little 
 schooner anchored in the harbour ?" 
 
 "What!" said Ethelson, eagerly, "a beautiful 
 craft of about twenty tons, on the other side of the 
 bay?" 
 
 " Even the same." 
 
 " Surely I have ! She is American built, and 
 swims like a duck." 
 
 " Well then," replied Nina, " I think I shall do 
 no great harm in restoring her to an American ! 
 How many men should you require to manage 
 her?" 
 
 " I could sail her easily with one able seaman 
 besides my black friend Cupid." 
 
 " Then," said Nina, " I propose to lend her to
 
 260 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 you; you may send her back at your convenience, 
 and I will also provide you an able seaman ; write 
 me a list of the stores and articles which you will 
 require for the trip, and send it me in an hour's 
 time: prepare your own baggage, and be ready 
 upon the shortest notice ; it is now my turn to 
 command and yours to obey. Good-b'ye, Mr. 
 Mentor." So saying, she kissed her hand to him, 
 and withdrew. 
 
 Ethelston rubbed his eyes as if he did not be- 
 lieve their evidence. " Could this merry, ready- 
 witted girl be the same as the Nina whom he had 
 seen, ten days before, heart-broken, and unable to 
 conceal or repress the violence of her passion?" 
 The longer he mused, the more was he puzzled ; 
 and he came at length to a conclusion at which many 
 more wise and more foolish than himself had ar- 
 rived, that a woman's mind, when influenced by 
 her affections, is a riddle hard to be solved. He 
 had not, however, much time for reflection, and 
 being resolved at all risks to escape from the 
 island, he hastened to his room, and within the 
 hour specified by Nina, sent her a list of the stores 
 and provisions for the voyage. 
 
 Meanwhile Fanchette had not been idle, she 
 had painted to Jacques, in the liveliest colours, 
 the wealth, beauty, and freedom of the distant
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 261 
 
 land of Ohio, artfully mingling with this descrip- 
 tion promises and allurements which operated 
 more directly on the feelings of her black swain, 
 so that the latter, finding himself entreated by 
 Fanchette, and commanded by his young mistress, 
 hesitated no longer to betray his trust and desert 
 the Commodore. 
 
 Ethelston, having communicated the prosperous 
 state of affairs to Cupid, and desired him to have 
 all ready for immediate escape, hastened to obey 
 another summons sent to him by Nina ; he found 
 her in a mood no less cheerful than before, and 
 although she purposely averted her face, a smile, 
 the meaning of which he could not define, played 
 round the corner of her expressive mouth. Though 
 really glad to escape homeward, and disposed to be 
 grateful to Nina for her aid, he could not help 
 feeling angry and vexed at the capricious eagerness 
 with which she busied herself in contriving the de- 
 parture of one to whom she had so lately given 
 the strongest demonstration of tenderness ; and 
 although his heart told him that he could not love 
 her, there was something in this easy and sudden 
 withdrawal of her affection which wounded that 
 self-love from which the best of men are not alto- 
 gether free. These feelings gave an unusual cold- 
 ness and constraint to his manner, when he inquired 
 her further commands.
 
 262 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 To this question Nina replied by saying, 
 " Then, Mr. Ethelston, you are quite resolved to 
 leave us, and to risk all the chances and perils 
 of this voyage ?" 
 
 " Quite," he replied : " it is my wish, my duty, 
 and my firm determination ; and I entered the 
 room," he added, almost in a tone of reproof, 
 " desirous of repeating to you my thanks for your 
 kind assistance."" 
 
 Nina's countenance changed ; but, still averting 
 it from Ethelston, she continued in a lower voice, 
 "And do you leave us without pain without 
 regret?" 
 
 There was a tremor, a natural feeling in the 
 tone in which she uttered these few words, that 
 recalled to his mind all that he had seen her suffer, 
 and drove from it the harsh thoughts which he 
 had begun to entertain, and he answered in a 
 voice from which his self-command could not ba- 
 nish all traces of emotion, " Dear Nina, I shall 
 leave you with regret that would amount to misery, 
 if I thought that my visit had brought any per- 
 manent unhappiness into this house. I desire to 
 leave you as a Mentor should leave a beloved 
 pupil as a brother leaves a sister : with a full 
 hope that when I am gone you will fulfil your 
 parents' wishes, your own auspicious destinies,
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 263 
 
 and that, after years and years of happiness among 
 those whom Fate has decreed to be the compa- 
 nions of your life, you will look back upon me 
 as upon a faithful adviser of your youth, an 
 affectionate friend who " 
 
 Nina's nerves were not strung for the part she 
 had undertaken ; gradually her countenance had 
 grown pale as marble; a choking sensation op- 
 pressed her throat, and she sunk in a chair, sob- 
 bing, rather than uttering, the word " Water." 
 It was fortunately at hand, and having placed it 
 in a glass by her side, Ethelston retired to the 
 window to conceal his own emotion, and to allow 
 time for that of Nina to subside. 
 
 After a few minutes she recovered her self- 
 possession; and although still deadly pale, her 
 voice was distinct and firm, as she said, " Ethel- 
 ston, I am ashamed of this weakness; but it is 
 over : we will not speak of the past, and will leave 
 to Fate the future. Now listen to me : all the 
 arrangements for your departure will be complete 
 by to-morrow evening. At an hour before mid- 
 night a small boat, with one man, will be at the 
 Quai du Marche, below the Place St. Louis. It 
 is far from the fort, and there is no sentry near 
 the spot ; you can then row to the vessel and 
 depart But is it not too dangerous?" she added ;
 
 264 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 " Can you risk it ? for the wind whistles terribly, 
 and I fear the approach of a hurricane ! " 
 
 Ethelston's eye brightened as he replied, " A 
 rough night is the fairest for the purpose, 
 Nina." 
 
 " Be it so," she replied. " Now, in return for 
 all that I have done for you, there is only one 
 favour I have to ask at your hands." 
 
 " Name it," said Ethelston, eagerly. 
 
 " There is," she continued, "a poor sick youth 
 in the town, the child of respectable parents in 
 New Orleans; he desires to go home, if it be 
 only to die there: and a nurse will take care 
 of him on the passage if you will let him go 
 with you?"" 
 
 " Assuredly I will," said Ethelston ; " and will 
 take as much care of him as if he were my bro- 
 ther." 
 
 " Nay," said Nina, " they tell me he is ordered 
 to be perfectly quiet, and no one attends him but 
 the nurse ; neither will he give any trouble, as the 
 coxswain says there is a small cabin where he 
 can remain alone and undisturbed." 
 
 " You may depend," said Ethelston, " that all 
 your orders about him shall be faithfully per- 
 formed; and I will see, if I live, that he reaches 
 his home in safety."
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 265 
 
 " He and his nurse will be on board before 
 you," said Nina : " and as soon as you reach 
 the vessel, you have nothing to do but to escape 
 as quick as you can. Now I must bid you fare- 
 well ! I may not have spirits to see you again !" 
 She held out her hand to him ; it was cold as ice ; 
 her face was still half-averted, and her whole frame 
 trembled violently. 
 
 Ethelston took the offered hand, and pressed 
 it to his lips, saying, " A thousand, thousand 
 thanks for all your kindn ess ! If I reach home 
 alive I will make your honoured father ample 
 amends for the theft of his schooner ; and if ever 
 you have an opportunity to let me know that 
 you are well and happy, do not forget that such 
 news will always gladden my heart." He turned 
 to look at her as he went ; he doubted whether 
 the cold rigid apathy of her form and countenance 
 was that of despair or of indifference; but he 
 dared not trust himself longer in her pre- 
 sence ; and as he left the room she sunk on the 
 chair against which she had been leaning for 
 support. 
 
 When Ethelston found himself alone, he col- 
 lected his thoughts, and endeavoured in vain to 
 account for the strange deportment of Nina in 
 bidding him farewell. The coldness of her man- 
 
 VOL. i. N
 
 266 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 ner, the abrupt brevity of her parting address, had 
 surprised him ; and yet the tremor, the emotion, 
 amounting almost to fainting, the forced tone of 
 voice in which she had spoken, all forbad him 
 to hope, that she had overcome her unhappy 
 passion ; he was grieved that he had scarcely 
 parted from her in kindness, and the pity with 
 which he regarded her was, for the moment, al- 
 most akin to love. 
 
 Shaking off this temporary weakness, he em- 
 ployed himself forthwith in the preparations for 
 his departure ; among the first of which was a 
 letter, which he wrote to Captain L'Estrange, and 
 left upon his table. On the following day he 
 never once saw Nina; but he heard from one 
 of the slaves that she was confined to her room 
 by severe headach. 
 
 The wind blew with unabated force, the even- 
 ing was dark and lowering, as, at the appointed 
 hour, Ethelston, accompanied by his faithful Cu- 
 pid, left the house with noiseless step. They 
 reached the boat without obstruction; pushed 
 off, and in ten minutes were safe on deck : the 
 coxswain whispered that all was ready; the boat 
 was hoisted up, the anchor weighed, and the 
 schooner was soon dashing the foam from her 
 bows on the open sea.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 267 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 WHAT TOOK PLACE AT MOOSHANNE DURING THE STAY OF 
 
 ETHELSTON IN GUADALOUPE. DEPARTURE OF REGINALD FOR 
 
 THE FAR-WEST. 
 
 WHILE the events related in the last two chap- 
 ters occurred at Guadaloupe, Reginald was busily 
 employed at Mooshanne in completing the pre- 
 parations for his projected visit to the Delawares, 
 in the Far- west; he had (by putting in practice 
 the instructions given him by War-Eagle respecting 
 Nekimi) at length succeeded in gaining that noble 
 animal's affection; he neighed at Reginald's ap- 
 proach, knew and obeyed his voice, fed from his 
 hand, and received and returned his caresses, as he 
 had before done those of his Indian master. It 
 was when mounted on Nekimi that our hero found 
 his spirit most exulting and buoyant ; he gave him 
 the rein on the broadest of the neighbouring prai- 
 ries, and loved to feel the springy fleetness and 
 untiring muscles of this child of the western de- 
 sert. Sometimes, after a gallop of many miles, he 
 
 N 2
 
 268 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 would leap from the saddle, to look with pride and 
 pleasure on the spirited eye, the full veins, the 
 expanded nostril of his favourite ; at other times he 
 would ride him slowly through the most tangled 
 and difficult ground, admiring the instinctive and 
 unerring sagacity with which he picked his way. 
 
 Among Reginald's other accomplishments, he 
 had learnt in Germany to play not unskilfully 
 on the horn; and constantly carrying his bugle 
 across his shoulders, Nekimi grew so accustomed 
 to the sound, that he would come to it from any 
 distance within hearing of its call. It appeared to 
 Reginald so probable that the bugle might render 
 him good service on his summer excursion, that he 
 not only practised his horse to it, but he prevailed 
 on Baptiste to learn his various signals, and even 
 to reply on another horn to some of the simplest 
 of them. The honest guide's first attempts to 
 sound the bugle were ludicrous in the extreme; 
 but he good-humouredly persevered, until Regi- 
 nald and he could, from a considerable distance, 
 exchange many useful signals agreed upon be- 
 tween them, and of course intelligible to none but 
 themselves. Among these were the following: 
 " Beware !" " Come to me," " Be still," 
 " Bring my horse," and one or two others for 
 hunting purposes, such as "A bear!" " Buf-
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 269 
 
 falo ! " To these they added a reply, which was al- 
 ways to signify " I understand." But if the party 
 called was prevented from obeying, this signal was 
 to be varied accordingly. 
 
 At the same time Reginald did not omit to 
 learn from the guide a number of Delaware 
 words and phrases, in order that when he ar- 
 rived among his new friends he might not be 
 altogether excluded from communication with 
 such of them as should not understand Eng- 
 lish ; in these preparations, and occasional hunts 
 in company with Baptiste, his time would have 
 glided on agreeably enough, had he not observed 
 with anxiety the settled melancholy that was gra- 
 dually creeping over his sister Lucy; it was in 
 vain that he strove to comfort her by reminding 
 her of the thousand trifling accidents that might 
 have detained Ethelston in the West Indies, and 
 have prevented his letters from reaching home. 
 She smiled upon him kindly for his well meant 
 endeavours, and not only abstained from all com- 
 plaint, but tried to take her part in conversation ; 
 yet he saw plainly that her cheerfulness was 
 forced, and that secret sorrow was at her heart. 
 She employed herself assiduously in tending her 
 mother, whose health had of late become exceed- 
 ingly precarious, and who was almost always con-
 
 270 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 fined to her apartments. Lucy worked by her 
 side, conversed with her, read to her, and did all 
 in her power to hide from her the grief that pos- 
 sessed her own bosom. Reginald marked the 
 struggle, which strengthened, if possible, the love 
 that he had always felt for his exemplary and 
 affectionate sister. 
 
 One day he was sitting with her in the boudoir, 
 which commanded, as we have before observed, a 
 view of the approach to the house, where they saw 
 a horseman coming at full speed. As he drew 
 near, he seemed to be a middle-aged man, wearing 
 a broad-brimmed hat, a coarse over-coat, and loose 
 trowsers ; his knees were high up on the saddle, 
 and he rode in so careless and reckless a manner, 
 that it was marvellous how the uncouth rider 
 could remain on his horse in a gallop. Reginald 
 threw open the window { and as the strange-look- 
 ing figure caught a sight of him, the steed was 
 urged yet faster, and the broad-brimmed hat was 
 waved in token of recognition. 
 
 " Now Heaven be praised ! " exclaimed Regi- 
 nald aloud ; " "'tis Gregson the mate ! " He turned 
 towards his sister: the blood had fled from her 
 cheeks and lip, her hands were clasped together, 
 and she whispered in a voice scarcely articulate, 
 " Heaven be merciful ! "
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 271 
 
 " Nay, Lucy," said her sanguine brother, " why 
 this grief? are you not glad that the Pride is re- 
 turned?" 
 
 " Oh, Reginald ! " said Lucy, looking on him 
 reproachfully through the tears which now streamed 
 from her eyes. "Think you that if he had been 
 alive and well, he would have allowed another to 
 come here before him ! Go and speak to the man 
 I cannot see him you will return and tell 
 me all." 
 
 Reginald felt the reproof, and kissing her affec- 
 tionately, hastened from the room. 
 
 Who shall attempt to lift the veil from Lucy's 
 heart during the suspense of the succeeding mi- 
 nutes ? It is fortunate for human nature, that at 
 such a moment the mind is too confused to be con- 
 scious of its own sufferings ; the mingled emotions 
 of hope and fear, the half-breathed prayer, the 
 irresistible desire to learn, contending with the 
 dread of more assured misery, all these unite in 
 producing that agony of suspense which it is im- 
 possible to describe in words, and of which the 
 mind of the sufferer can scarcely realize afterwards 
 a distinct impression. 
 
 After a short absence, Reginald returned, and 
 said to his sister, "Lucy, Ethelston is not here, 
 but he is alive and safe."
 
 272 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 She hid her face in her brother's breast and 
 found relief in a flood of grateful tears. As soon as 
 Lucy had recovered her composure, her brother 
 informed her of Ethelston's captivity, and of the 
 serious, though not dangerous wounds, that he had 
 received ; but he mingled with the narration such 
 warm praises of his friend's heroic defence of the 
 brig, and so many sanguine assurances of his 
 speedy release and return, that her fears and her 
 anxiety were for a time absorbed in the glow of 
 pride with which she listened to the praises of her 
 lover's conduct, and in the anticipation of soon 
 having his adventures from his own lips. The 
 faithful mate received a kind welcome from the 
 Colonel, and though the latter had sustained a 
 severe loss in the brig, he viewed it as a misfor- 
 tune for which no one could be blamed; and di- 
 rected all his anxiety and his inquiries to the con- 
 dition of Ethelston, whom he loved as his own son. 
 
 "Depend on't, Colonel," said Gregson, "he'll 
 come to no harm where he is, for L'Estrange is 
 a fine old fellow, and Master Ethelston saved his 
 son's neck from my cutlass. I was cuttin' at him 
 in downright airnest, for my dander was up, and 
 you know, Colonel, a man a'nt particular nice in 
 a deck scurry like that ! " 
 
 " And what made him so anxious to save the 
 youngster?" inquired the Colonel.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 273 
 
 " Why, I s 'pose he thought the day was our 
 own, and the lieutenant too smart a lad to be 
 roughly handled for naught; but the young mad- 
 cap put a pistol-ball into his arm by way of 
 thanks." 
 
 "Well, and did Ethelston still protect him?" 
 
 "Ay, sir, all the same. I've served with a 
 number of captains o 1 one sort or other, smugglers, 
 and slave-cruizers, and old Burt, that the Cuba 
 pirates used to call Gunpowder Jack, but I will 
 say I never saw a better man than Ethelston step 
 a deck, whether it 's 'up stick and make sail/ or 
 a heavy gale on a lee-shore, or a game at long 
 bowls, or a hammer-away fight at yard-arm to 
 yard-arm, it's all one to our skipper, he's just as 
 cool and seems as well pleased, as when it's a free 
 breeze, a clear sea, and Black Cupid has piped to 
 dinner. 1 " 
 
 " He is a gallant young fellow," said the Colonel, 
 brushing a little moisture from the corner of his 
 eye; "and we will immediately take all possible 
 measures for his liberation, both by applying, 
 through Congress, for his exchange, and by commu- 
 nicating with the French agents at New Orleans." 
 
 The conversation was protracted for some time, 
 and after its termination, the mate having satis- 
 fied himself that the Mooshanne cider had lost
 
 274 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 none of its flavour, and that Monsieur Perrot's 
 flask contained genuine cognac, returned in high 
 spirits to Marietta. 
 
 The preparations for Reginald's expedition now 
 went briskly forward, as the business which the 
 Colonel wished him to transact with the trading 
 companies on the Mississippi did not admit of 
 delay. A large canoe was fitted out at Marietta, 
 capable of containing sixteen or eighteen persons, 
 and possessing sufficient stowage for the provisions 
 and goods required ; the charge of it was given to 
 an experienced Voyageur, who had more than once 
 accompanied Baptiste in his excursions to the 
 Upper Mississippi and the Great Lakes ; ' he was 
 a steady determined man, on whose fidelity reli- 
 ance might be placed, and well calculated, from 
 the firmness of his character, to keep in order the 
 rough and sturdy fellows who formed his crew. 
 Born and bred in that wild border region which 
 now forms the State of Michigan, the woods, 
 rapids, and lakes had been familiar to him from his 
 childhood ; unlike most of his tribe, he was singu- 
 larly grave and taciturn; he always wore a bear- 
 skin cap, and whether in his bateau, his canoe, or 
 his log-hut, his bed was of the same material, so 
 that he was known only by the name of "Bear- 
 skin ; " his paternal appellation, whatever it might
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 275 
 
 have been originally, having become altogether 
 obsolete and unknown. His crew consisted of 
 four stout fellows, who, like most of the Indian 
 borderers, were as skilful in the use of the paddle 
 on the river as in that of the rifle on the land. 
 Among them was the gigantic form of Mike Smith, 
 before mentioned in this narrative ; all these were 
 engaged by the Colonel, at a liberal salary, for six 
 months, which was to be proportionately increased 
 if they were detained in his service for a longer 
 period. It was also settled that Monsieur Gustave 
 Perrot should take his passage in the canoe ; and 
 to his care were entrusted the Indian presents, 
 clothes, and other articles, which were his master's 
 own property. Reginald had resolved to cross the 
 Territory on horseback, accompanied by Baptiste, 
 and he therefore meant to carry with him only 
 such arms, and other articles, as were likely to be 
 required on the journey. 
 
 The orders given to Bearskin were, to make 
 the best of his way to St. Louis, and having 
 delivered the letters with which he was en- 
 trusted, there to await Reginald's arrival. The 
 cargo of the canoe consisted chiefly (with the ex- 
 ception of a full supply of arms and provisions) of 
 powder, cutlery, clothes of various colours, paints, 
 mirrors, and a great variety of beads. Her equip-
 
 276 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 ment was soon completed, and she left Marietta 
 amid the cheers of the crowd assembled on the 
 wooden pier in front of David Muir's store, the 
 latter observing to our old friend the mate, who 
 stood at his elbow, " I 'm thinking, Maister Greg- 
 son, they chaps will hae eneugh o 1 the red-skin 
 deevils, an" 1 fur-huntin' amongst a wheen wild 
 trappers and daft neer-do-weels ayont the Missis- 
 sippi ! Weel a weel, ye maun just step ben and 
 tak' a stoup o 1 cognac to the success o' Bearskin 
 and his crew." 
 
 Although there was much in the merchant's 
 harangue that was like Greek or Hebrew to the 
 mate, the closing invitation being adapted as well 
 to his comprehension as to his inclination, he ex- 
 pressed a brief but cheerful acquiescence, and the 
 worthy couple entered the house together. As 
 soon as they were seated in the parlour, Jessie 
 placed on the table some excellent corn-cakes and 
 cheese, together with the before-mentioned cog- 
 nac, and busied herself with even more than her 
 wonted alacrity, to offer these good things to the 
 father of the youth towards whom she entertained, 
 as we have said, a secret but very decided par- 
 tiality. She carried her hospitality so far as to 
 bring a bottle of old madeira from David's fa- 
 vourite corner in the cellar, which she decanted
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. . 277 
 
 with great dexterity, and placed before the mate. 
 The jolly tar complimented the merchant, after his 
 own blunt fashion, both on the excellence of his 
 liquor, and the attractions of his daughter, saying, 
 in reference to the latter, " I can tell you, Master 
 Muir, that I hold Jessie to be as handsome and as 
 handy a lass as any in the territory. If I were 
 twenty years younger, I should be very apt to clap 
 on all sail, and try to make a prize of her!" 
 
 At this moment his son entered from the store, 
 under the pretext of speaking to David about the 
 sale of some goods, but with the object of being 
 for a few minutes near to Jessie. He had never 
 spoken to her of love, being afraid that his suit 
 would certainly be rejected by her parents, who, 
 from their reputed wealth, would doubtless expect 
 to marry their daughter to one of the principal 
 personages in the commonwealth of Marietta. As 
 he entered, his eyes encountered those of Jessie, 
 who was still blushing from the effect of the com- 
 pliment paid to her by his father. 
 
 " Harry, my boy," shouted the mate, " you are 
 just come in time; I have filled a glass of David's 
 prime 84, and you must give me a toast ! Now, 
 my lad, speak up ; heave a-head ! " 
 
 "Father, I am ashamed of you!" replied the 
 youth, colouring. " How can you ask for another
 
 278 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 toast when Miss Jessie 's standing at your 
 elbow?" 
 
 "The boy's right," said the sailor, "and he 
 shall drink it, too; shan't he, David?" 
 
 " I'm thinking ye '11 no need to ask him twice. 
 Jessie, hand the lad a glass ! " 
 
 At her father's bidding she brought another 
 glass from the cupboard ; and in giving it to young 
 Gregson, one or other of them was so awkward, 
 that instead of it he took her hand in his ; and al- 
 though he relinquished it immediately, there was 
 a pressure, unconscious perhaps, but so distinctly 
 perceptible to Jessie, that she blushed still deeper, 
 and felt almost relieved by hearing her name 
 called from the store in the loudest key of her 
 mother's shrill voice, while it was repeated yet 
 more loudly by the honest mate, who gave the 
 toast as she left the room, "Here's Jessie Muir, 
 a long life and a happy one to her ! " 
 
 Henry Gregson drank the madeira, but he 
 scarcely knew whether it was sweet or sour, for his 
 blood still danced with the touch of Jessie's hand ; 
 and setting down the glass, he returned abruptly 
 to the store, whether in the hope of stealing an- 
 other look at her, or to enjoy his own reflections 
 on the last few minutes, the reader may determine 
 for himself.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 279 
 
 The mate and the merchant continued their 
 sitting until the bottle of madeira was empty, and 
 the flask of cognac was considerably diminished ; 
 and although their conversation was doubtless 
 highly interesting, and worthy of being listened to 
 with the greatest attention, yet, as it did not bear 
 immediately upon the events of our narrative, we 
 will leave it unrecorded, amongst the many other 
 valuable treasures of a similar kind, which are suf- 
 fered day by day to sink into oblivion. 
 
 M. Perrot being now fairly under way, and 
 having taken with him all the articles required by 
 Reginald for his Indian expedition, our hero re- 
 solved no longer to delay his own departure, being 
 about to encounter a very tedious land journey 
 before he could reach St. Louis, and being also 
 desirous of performing it by easy marches, in order 
 that Nekimi might arrive at the Osage hunting- 
 camp fresh, and ready for any of those emer- 
 gencies in which success might depend upon his 
 strength and swiftness. Baptiste was now quite 
 in his element ; and an early day being fixed 
 for their departure, he packed the few clothes and 
 provisions which they were likely to require on 
 the journey, in two capacious leather bags, which 
 were to be slung across the rough hardy nag 
 which had accompanied him on more than one
 
 280 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 distant expedition, and he was soon able to an- 
 nounce to Reginald that he was ready to start at 
 an hour's notice. 
 
 The parting of our hero from his family was 
 somewhat trying to his firmness; for poor Lucy, 
 whose nerves were much affected by her own sor- 
 rows, could not control her grief; Aunt Mary 
 also shed tears, whilst, mingled with her repeated 
 blessings and excellent counsel, she gave him se- 
 veral infallible recipes for the cure of cuts, bruises, 
 and the bite of rattle-snakes. The Colonel 
 squeezed his hand with concealed emotion, and 
 bid him remember those whom he left behind, and 
 not incur any foolish risk in the pursuit of amuse- 
 ment, or in the excitement of Indian adventure. 
 But it was in parting with his mother that his 
 feelings underwent the severest trial, for her 
 health had long been gradually declining ; and al- 
 though she evinced the resigned composure which 
 marked her gentle uncomplaining character, there 
 was a deep solemnity in her farewell benediction, 
 arising from a presentiment that they might not 
 meet again on this side of the grave. It required 
 all the beauty of the scenery through which he 
 passed, and all the constitutional buoyancy of his 
 spirits, to enable Reginald to shake off the sadness 
 which crept over him, when he caught from a
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 281 
 
 rising ground the last glimpse of Mooshanne ; but 
 the fresh elasticity of youth ere long prevailed, 
 and he ran his fingers through the glossy mane 
 that hung over Nekimi's arching crest, antici- 
 pating with pleasure the wild adventures by flood 
 and field that they would share together. 
 
 Reginald wore the deer-skin hunting-suit that 
 we have before described; his rifle he had sent 
 with the canoe, the bugle was slung across his 
 shoulders, a brace of horse-pistols were in the 
 holsters, and a hunting- knife hanging at his girdle 
 completed his equipment. The sturdy guide was 
 more heavily armed; for besides his long rifle, 
 which he never quitted, a knife hung on one side 
 of his belt, and at the other was slung the huge 
 axe which had procured him the name by which 
 he was known among some of the tribes; but in 
 spite of these accoutrements, and of the saddle- 
 bags before-mentioned, his hardy nag paced along 
 with an enduring vigour that would hardly have 
 been expected from one of so coarse and un- 
 promising an exterior; sometimes their way lay 
 through the vast prairies which were still found in 
 the states Indiana and Illinois; at others among 
 dense woods and rich valleys, through which flowed 
 the various tributaries that swell Ohio's mighty 
 stream, the guide losing no opportunity of ex-
 
 282 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 plaining to Reginald as they went, all the signs 
 and secret indications of Indian or border wood- 
 craft that occurred. They met with abundance of 
 deer, and at night they made their fire; and 
 having finished their venison supper, camped un- 
 der the shelter of some ancient oak or sycamore. 
 Thus Reginald's hardy frame became on this pre- 
 liminary journey more inured to the exposure that 
 he would have to undergo among the Osages and 
 Delawares of the Far-west ; they fell in now and 
 then with straggling bands of hunters and of 
 friendly Indians, but with no adventures worthy of 
 record ; and thus, after a steady march of twenty 
 days, they reached the banks of the Mississippi, 
 and crossed in the ferry to St. Louis.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE ESCAPE OF ETHELSTON FROM GUADALOUPE, AND THE CON- 
 SEQUENCES WHICH ENSUED FROM THAT EXPEDITION. 
 
 WE left Ethelston on the deck of the little 
 schooner, which was bearing him rapidly from the 
 shores of Guadaloupe, under the influence of an 
 easterly wind, so strong that all his attention 
 was absorbed in the management of the vessel. 
 During the night the gale increased, and blew with 
 unabated violence for forty-eight hours. " The 
 Sea-gull," for so she was called, scudded lightly 
 before it; and on the third day Ethelston had 
 made by his log upwards of five hundred miles of 
 westerly course. 
 
 Having only two hands on board, and the wea- 
 ther being so uncommonly boisterous, he had been 
 kept in constant employment, and had only been 
 able to snatch a few brief intervals for sleep and 
 refreshment; he found Jacques the coxswain an 
 active able seaman, but extremely silent and re-
 
 284 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 served, obeying exactly the orders he received, but 
 scarcely uttering a word, even to Cupid ; it was he 
 alone who attended upon the invalid and the nurse 
 in the after-cabin; and the weather having now 
 moderated, Ethelston asked how the youth had 
 borne the pitching and tossing of the vessel during 
 the late gale. Jacques replied, that he was not 
 worse, and seemed not to suffer from the sea. 
 The Captain was satisfied, and retired to his 
 cabin ; he had not been there long, before Cupid 
 entered; and carefully shutting the door behind 
 him, stood before his master with a peculiar ex- 
 pression of countenance, which the latter well 
 knew to intimate some unexpected intelligence. 
 
 " Well Cupid, what is it?" said Ethelston, " is 
 there a suspicious sail in sight?" 
 
 " Very suspicious, Massa Ethelston," replied 
 the Black, grinning and lowering his voice to 
 a whisper, " and suspicious goods aboard the 
 schooner." 
 
 " What mean you, Cupid?" 
 
 " There is some trick aboard. I not like that 
 Jacques that never speak, and I not like that sick 
 boy and his nurse, that nobody never see." 
 
 " But why should you be angry, Cupid, with 
 the poor boy because he is sick ? I have promised 
 to deliver him safe to his friends at New Orleans,
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 285 
 
 and I hope soon, with this breeze, to perform my 
 promise." 
 
 " Massa Ethelston, I believe it all one damn 
 trick I not believe there is one sick boy; when 
 Jacques come in and go out of that cabin he 
 creep, and look, and listen, and watch like the 
 Colonel's grey cat at the cheese cupboard ; Cupid 
 no pretend to much learnin', but he no be made 
 fool of by damn French nigger, and he no tell 
 Massa Ethelston a lie." So saying, the African 
 withdrew as quietly as he had entered. 
 
 After musing some time on his follower's com- 
 munication and suspicions, he resolved to unravel 
 whatever mystery might be attached to the matter, 
 by visiting the invalid immediately. On his knock- 
 ing gently at the door for admission, he was an- 
 swered from within by the nurse that her patient 
 was asleep, and ought not now to be disturbed ; 
 but being determined not to allow another day to 
 pass in uncertainty, he went on deck, and sum- 
 moning Jacques, told him to go down presently 
 and inform the nurse that in the evening, as soon 
 as her patient was awake, he should pay him a 
 visit. 
 
 Jacques received this mandate with some con- 
 fusion, and began to stapraer something about the 
 " poor boy not being disturbed."
 
 286 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 " Harkee, sir," said Ethelston sternly; " I am 
 Captain on board this craft, and will be obeyed; 
 as you go into that cabin three or four times a 
 day to attend upon the invalid, methinks my pre- 
 sence cannot be so dangerous. I will take the 
 risk upon myself: you hear my orders, sir, and 
 they are not to be trifled with !" 
 
 Jacques disappeared, and Ethelston remained 
 pacing the deck. In about half an hour the latter 
 came up to him, and said, " The young gentleman 
 will receive the captain at sundown." 
 
 " Very well," replied Ethelston, and continued 
 to pace the deck, revolving in his mind all the 
 strange events of the last month, his illness, the 
 unfortunate passion of Nina, and her strange be- 
 haviour when he bid her farewell. 
 
 At the appointed time he went down, and 
 again knocked at the side cabin door for admis- 
 sion ; it was opened by the nurse, apparently a 
 young woman of colour, who whispered to him in 
 French, " Go in, sir, and speak gently to him, 
 for he is very delicate." So saying she left the 
 cabin, and closed the door behind her. 
 
 Ethelston approached the sofa, on which the 
 grey evening light permitted him to see a slight 
 figure, covered with a mantle ; and addressing the
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 287 
 
 invalid kindly, he said, " I fear, young sir, -you 
 must have suffered much during the gale." 
 
 " No, I thank you," was the reply, but so 
 faintly uttered as to be scarcely audible. 
 
 " Can I do anything to make your stay on board 
 more comfortable ?" 
 
 " Yes," was the whispered answer. 
 
 " Then tell me what, or how ; as I have pro- 
 mised to do all in my power to make the voyage 
 agreeable to you." 
 
 After a pause of a minute, during which the 
 invalid seemed struggling with repressed emotion, 
 the mantle was suddenly thrown aside, the recum- 
 bent figure sprang from the sofa, and Nina stood 
 before him ! " Yes,' 1 she said ; " you have pro- 
 mised and my ears drank in the promise for it, 
 and for you I have abandoned home, country, kin- 
 dred, what do I say, I have abandoned nothing; 
 for you are to me home, kindred, country, every- 
 thing ! Dear, dear Ethelston ! this moment re- 
 pays me for all I have suffered." As she spoke 
 thus, she threw her arms round his neck, and hid 
 her blushing face upon his breast. 
 
 Ethelston was so completely taken by surprise, 
 that for a moment he could not utter a syllable. 
 Mistaking his silence for a full participation in
 
 288 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 her own impassioned feelings, and looking up in 
 his face, her eyes beaming with undisguised affec- 
 tion, and her dark tresses falling carelessly over 
 her beautiful neck, she continued, " Oh, speak 
 speak one gentle word, nay, rather break not 
 this delicious silence, and let me dream here for 
 ever." 
 
 If Ethelston was for a moment stupified, partly 
 by surprise and partly by the effect of her sur- 
 passing loveliness, it was but for a moment His 
 virtue, pride, and honour were aroused, and the 
 suggestions of passion found no entrance to his 
 heart. Firmly, but quietly replacing her on the 
 sofa she had quitted, he said, in a voice more stern 
 than he had ever before used when addressing her, 
 " Nina, you have grieved me more than I can 
 express ; you have persisted in seeking a heart 
 which I frankly told you was not mine to give; I 
 see no longer in you the Nina whom I first knew 
 in Guadaloupe, gentle, affectionate, and docile 
 but a wild, headstrong girl, pursuing a wayward 
 fancy, regardless of truth, and of that maidenly 
 reserve, which is woman's sweetest charm. Not 
 only have you thus hurt my feelings, but you have 
 brought a stain upon my honour, nay, interrupt 
 me not," he added, seeing that she was about to 
 speak ; " for I must tell you the truth, and
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 289 
 
 must learn to bear it, even though it may sound 
 harsh to your ears. I repeat, you have brought a 
 stain upon my honour, for what will your re 
 spected father think of the man whom he received 
 wounded, suffering, and a prisoner? whom he 
 cherished with hospitable kindness, and who now 
 requites all his benefits by stealing from his roof 
 the daughter of his love, the ornament and bless- 
 ing of his home ? Nina, I did not think that you 
 would have brought this disgrace and humiliation 
 upon my name ! I have now a sacred and a pain- 
 ful duty before me, and I will see you no more 
 until I have restored you to the arms of an offended 
 father. I hope he will forgive you, as I do, for 
 the wrong that you have done to both of us. 
 Farewell, Nina." With these words, spoken in 
 a voice trembling with contending emotions, he 
 turned and left the cabin. 
 
 Reader ! have you ever dwelt in Sicily, or in 
 any other southern island of volcanic formation; 
 if so, you may have seen a verdant spot near the 
 base of the mountain, where the flowers and the 
 herbage were smiling in the fresh beauty of sum- 
 mer, where the luxuriant vine mingled her tendrils 
 with the spreading branches of the elm, where the 
 air was loaded with fragrance, and the ear was 
 refreshed by the hum of bees and the murmur of a 
 
 VOL. i. o
 
 290 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 rippling stream, on a sudden, the slumbering 
 mountain-furnace is aroused the sulphurous cra- 
 ter pours forth its fiery deluge, and in a moment 
 the spot so lately teeming with life, fertility, and 
 fragrance, is become the arid, barren abode of deso- 
 lation. If, reader, you have seen this fearful change 
 on the face of nature, or if you can place it vividly 
 Jbefore your imagination, then may you conceive 
 the state of Nina's mind, when her long-cherished 
 love was thus abruptly and finally rejected by the 
 man for whom she had sacrificed her home, her pa- 
 rents, and her pride ! It is impossible for language 
 to portray an agony such as that by which all the 
 faculties of her soul and body seemed absorbed 
 and benumbed ; she neither spoke, nor wept, nor 
 gave any outward sign of suffering, but with blood- 
 less and silent lips, sat gazing on vacancy. 
 
 Fanchette returned, and looked on her young 
 mistress with fear and dread. She could neither 
 elicit a word in reply, nor the slightest indication 
 of her repeated entreaties being understood. Nina 
 suffered her hands to be chafed, her temples to 
 be bathed, and at length broke into a loud hys- 
 teric laugh, that rang through the adjoining cabin, 
 and sent a thrill to the heart of Ethelston. Spring- 
 ing on deck, he ordered Jacques to go below, and 
 aid Fanchette in attending on her young lady, and
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 291 
 
 then, with folded arms, he leaned over the low bul- 
 wark, and sat meditating in deep silence on the 
 events of the day. 
 
 The moon had risen, and her beams silvered the 
 waves through which the schooner was cutting her 
 way ; scarcely a fleeting cloud obscured the bright- 
 ness of the sky, and all nature seemed hushed in 
 the calm and peaceful repose of night. How dif- 
 ferent from the fearful storm now raging in the 
 bosom of the young girl from whom he was divided 
 only by a few inches of plank ! He shuddered 
 when that thought arose, but his conscience told 
 him that he was acting aright, and, indulging in 
 the reverie that possessed him, he saw a distant 
 figure in the glimmering moonlight, which as it 
 drew near, grew more and more distinct, till it 
 wore the form, the features, and the approving 
 smile of his Lucy ! Confirmed and strengthened 
 in his resolutions, he started from his seat, and bid 
 the astonished Cupid, who was now at the helm, 
 to prepare to go about, and stand to the eastward ; 
 Jacques was called from below, the order was re- 
 peated in a sterner voice, the sails were trimmed, 
 and in a few minutes the schooner was close hauled 
 and laying her course, as near as the wind would 
 permit, for Guadaloupe. 
 
 While these events were passing on board the 
 
 o 2
 
 292 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 Seagull, Captain L'Estrange had returned in the 
 frigate to Point a Pitre. His grief and anger 
 may be better imagined than described, when 
 he learnt the flight of his daughter and of his 
 prisoner, together with the loss of his yacht and 
 two of his slaves. 
 
 Concluding that the fugitives would make for 
 New Orleans, he dispatched the Hirondelle im- 
 mediately in pursuit, with orders to discover them 
 if possible, and to bring them back by stratagem 
 or force. He also wrote to Colonel Brandon, 
 painting in the blackest colours the treachery 
 and ingratitude of Ethelston, and calling upon 
 him, as a man of honour, to disown and punish 
 the perpetrator of such an outrage on the laws of 
 hospitality. 
 
 Meanwhile the latter was straining every nerve 
 to reach again the island from which he had so 
 lately escaped. In this object he was hindered, 
 not only by baffling winds, but by the obstinacy 
 of Jacques, who, justly fearing the wrath of his 
 late master, practised every manoeuvre to frustrate 
 Ethelston's design. But the latter was on his 
 guard ; and unless he was himself on deck, never 
 trusted the helm in the coxswain's hands. 
 
 He learnt from Fanchette, that Nina was in 
 a high fever, and quite delirious ; but though he
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 293 
 
 inquired constantly after her, and ordered every 
 attention to be paid to her that was within his 
 power, he adhered firmly to the resolution that 
 he had formed of never entering her cabin. 
 
 After a few days' sailing to the eastward, when 
 Ethelston calculated that he should not now be 
 at a great distance from Guadaloupe, he fell in 
 with a vessel, which proved to be the Hirondelle. 
 The Seagull was immediately recognised; and 
 the weather being fair, the lieutenant, and eight 
 men, came on board. The French officer was 
 no sooner on the deck, than he ordered his men 
 to seize and secure Ethelston, and to place the 
 two blacks in irons. 
 
 It was in vain that Ethelston indignantly re- 
 monstrated against such harsh and undeserved 
 treatment. The officer would listen to no expla- 
 nation; and without deigning a reply, ordered 
 his men to carry their prisoners on board the 
 Hirondelle. 
 
 On reaching Point a Pitre, they were all placed 
 in separate places of confinement ; and Nina was, 
 not without much risk and difficulty, conveyed to 
 . her former apartment in her father's house. The 
 delirium of fever seemed to have permanently 
 affected the poor girl's brain. She sang wild 
 snatches of songs, and told those, about her that
 
 294 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 her lover was often with her, but that he was 
 invisible. Sometimes she fancied herself on board 
 a ship, and asked them which way the wind blew, 
 and whether they were near the shore. Then she 
 would ask for a guitar, and tell them that she 
 was a mermaid, and would sing them songs that 
 the fishes loved to hear. 
 
 The distracted father often sat and listened 
 to these incoherent ravings, until he left the room 
 in an agony not to be described ; and when alone, 
 vented the most fearful imprecations on the sup- 
 posed treachery and ingratitude of Ethelston. 
 He could not bring himself to see the latter ; for, 
 said he, " I must kill him, if I set eyes on his 
 hateful person:" but he one day wrote the fol- 
 lowing lines, which he desired to be delivered to 
 his prisoner : 
 
 " A FATHER, whose indignation is yet greater 
 than his agony, desires to know what plea you 
 can urge in extenuation of the odious crimes 
 laid to your charge : the deliberate theft of his 
 slaves and yacht, and the abduction and ruin of 
 his child, in recompense for misplaced trust, kind- 
 ness, and hospitality?" 
 
 Poor Ethelston, in the gloomy solitude of the 
 narrow chamber where he was confined, read and
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 295 
 
 re-read the above lines many times before he 
 would trust himself to reply to them. He felt 
 for the misery of LTEstrange, and he was too 
 proud and too generous to exculpate himself by 
 the narration of Nina's conduct; nay, although 
 he knew that by desiring L'Estrange to examine 
 separately Fanchette and Jacques, his own inno- 
 cence, and the deceit practised upon him, would 
 be brought to light, he could not bring himself 
 to forget that delicacy which Nina had herself 
 forgotten ; nor add, to clear himself, one mite to 
 the heavy weight of visitation that had already 
 fallen upon her. He contented himself with send- 
 ing the following answer : 
 
 " SIR, 
 
 " Your words, though harsh, would be more 
 than merited by the crimes of which you believe 
 me guilty. There is a Being above, who reads 
 the heart, and will judge the conduct of us all. 
 If I am guilty of the crimes imputed to me, His 
 vengeance will inflict on me, through the stings 
 of conscience, punishment more terrible even than 
 the wrath of a justly-offended father could desire 
 for the destroyer of his child. If I am not guilty, 
 He, in His own good time, will make it known, 
 and will add to your other heavy sorrows, regret
 
 296 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 for having unjustly charged with such base in- 
 gratitude, Your servant and prisoner, 
 
 " E. ETHELSTON." 
 
 On receiving the above letter, which seemed 
 dictated by a calm consciousness of rectitude, 
 L'Estrange's belief of his prisoner's guilt was for 
 a moment staggered ; and had he bethought him- 
 self of cross-examining the other partners in the 
 escape, he would doubtless have arrived at the 
 truth; but his feelings were too violently excited 
 to permit the exercise of his reason ; and tearing 
 the note to pieces, he stamped upon it, exclaiming 
 in a paroxysm of rage, " Dissembling hypocrite ! 
 does he think to cozen me with words, as he has 
 poisoned poor Nina's peace?" 
 
 Her disorder now assumed a different character. 
 The excitement of delirium ceased, and was suc- 
 ceeded by a feebleness and gradual wasting, which 
 baffled all the resources of medicine; and such 
 was the apathy and stupor that clouded her facul- 
 ties, that even her father could scarcely tell whe- 
 ther she knew him or not. In this state she 
 continued for several days; and the physician 
 at length informed L'Estrange that he must pre- 
 pare himself for the worst, and that all hope of 
 recovery was gone.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 297 
 
 Madame L'Estrange had, under the pressure 
 of anxiety, forgotten her habitual listlessness, and 
 watched by her daughter's couch with a mother's 
 unwearied solicitude ; on the night succeeding the 
 above sad announcement, Nina sunk into a quiet 
 sleep, which gave some hope to her sanguine 
 parents, and induced them also to permit them- 
 selves a few hours' repose. 
 
 In the morning she awoke ; her eye no longer 
 dwelt on vacancy; a slight flush was visible on 
 her transparent cheek, and she called her father, 
 in a voice feeble indeed, but clear and distinct. 
 Who shall paint the rapture with which he hailed 
 the returning dawn of reason and of hope? But 
 his joy was of brief duration ; for Nina, beckoning 
 him to approach yet nearer, said, " God be 
 thanked that I may yet beg your blessing and for- 
 giveness, dearest father ! " then pressing her 
 wasted hand upon her brow, she continued, after 
 a short pause, " Yes, I remember it all now all ; 
 the orange-grove the flight the ship the last 
 meeting ! Oh ; tell me, where is he ? where is 
 Ethelston?" 
 
 " He is safe confined," answered L'Estrange, 
 scarcely repressing his rage ; " he shall not escape 
 punishment. The villain shall yet know the 
 weight of an injured father's ' Ere he could con- 
 
 o 5
 
 298 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 elude the sentence, Nina, by a sudden exertion, 
 half rose in her bed, and grasping his arm convul- 
 sively, said, " Father, curse him not you know 
 not what you say ; it is on me, on me alone, that 
 all your anger should fall; listen, and speak not, 
 for my hours are numbered, and my strength 
 nearly spent." She then proceeded to tell him, in 
 a faint but distinct voice, all the particulars al- 
 ready known to the reader, keeping back nothing 
 in her own defence, and confessing how Ethelston 
 had been deceived, and how she had madly per- 
 sisted in her endeavours to win his love, after he 
 had explicitly owned to her that his heart and 
 hand were promised to another. 
 
 " I solemnly assure you," she said in conclu- 
 sion, " that he never spoke to me of love, that he 
 warned me as a brother, and reproved me as a 
 father ; but I would not be counselled. His image 
 filled my thoughts, my senses, my whole soul it 
 fills them yet ; and if you wish your poor Nina to 
 die in peace, let her see you embrace him as a 
 friend and son." So saying she sunk exhausted 
 on her pillow. 
 
 L'Estrange could scarcely master the agitation 
 excited by this narration. After a short pause he 
 replied, " My poor child ! I fear you dream again. 
 I wrote only a few days ago to Ethelston, charging
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 299 
 
 him with his villany, and asking what he could say 
 in his defence ? his reply was nothing but a canting 
 subterfuge." 
 
 " What was it?" inquired Nina faintly. 
 
 L'Estrange repeated the words of the note. As 
 he did so, a sweet smile stole over her counte- 
 nance; and clasping her hands together, she ex- 
 claimed, " Like himself noble, generous Ethel- 
 ston ! Father, you are blind ; he would not ex- 
 culpate himself, by proclaiming your daughter's 
 shame ! If you doubt me, question Fanchette 
 Jacques who know it all too well; but you 
 will not doubt me, dear dear father ! By that 
 Being to whose presence I am fast hastening, I 
 tell you only the truth; by His name I conjure 
 you to comfort my last moments, by granting my 
 last request !" 
 
 L'Estrange averted his face ; and rising almost 
 immediately, desired an attendant to summon 
 Ethelston without delay. 
 
 A long pause ensued ; Nina's lips moved as if in 
 silent prayer; and her father, covering his face 
 with his hands, struggled to control the anguish 
 by which his firmness was all but overpowered. 
 At length Ethelston entered the room; he had 
 been informed that Nina was very ill, but was by 
 no means aware of the extremity of her danger.
 
 300 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 Naturally indignant at the treatment he had lately 
 received, knowing it to be undeserved, and igno- 
 rant of the purpose for which he was now called, 
 his manner was cold, and somewhat haughty, as 
 he inquired the commands which Captain L'Es- 
 trange might have for his prisoner. 
 
 The agonised father sought in vain for utter- 
 ance; his only reply was to point to the almost 
 lifeless form of his child. 
 
 One glance from the bed to the countenance of 
 L'Estrange was sufficient to explain all to Ethel- 
 ston, who sprang forward, and, wringing the old 
 captain's hand, faltered in a voice of deep emotion, 
 " Oh ! forgive me for so speaking, I knew no- 
 thing nothing of this dreadful scene !" then turn- 
 ing from him, he fixed his eyes upon Nina, while 
 the convulsive working of his features showed that 
 his habitual self-command was scarcely equal to 
 support the present unexpected trial. 
 
 The deadly paleness of her brow contrasted 
 with the disordered tresses of her dark hair, the 
 long eyelashes, reposing upon the transparent 
 cheek, which wore a momentary hectic glow, the 
 colourless lip, and the thin wan fingers, crossed 
 meekly upon her breast, all gave to her form and 
 features an air of such unearthly beauty, that 
 Ethelston almost doubted whether the spirit still
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 301 
 
 lingered in its lovely mansion ; but his doubts were 
 soon resolved; for having finished the unuttered 
 but fervent prayer which she had been addressing 
 to the Throne of Grace, she again unclosed her 
 eyes ; and when they rested upon his countenance ; 
 a sweet smile played round her lip, and a warmer 
 flush came over her cheek. Extending her hand 
 to him, she said, " Can you forgive me for all the 
 wrong I have done you?" 
 
 In reply, he pressed her fingers to his lips, for 
 he could not speak. She continued: " I know 
 that I grievously wronged my parents ; but the 
 wrong which I did to you was yet more cruel. 
 God be thanked for giving me this brief but pre- 
 cious hour for atonement. You more than once 
 called me your sister and your friend ! be a bro- 
 ther to me now. And you, dearest father, if your 
 love outweighs my fault, if you wish your child 
 to die happy, embrace him for my sake, and repair 
 the injustice that you have done to his generous 
 nature ! " 
 
 The two men looked at each other; their hearts 
 were melted, and their cordial embrace brought a 
 ray of gladness to Nina's eyes. " God be thank- 
 ed ! " she murmured faintly. " Let my mother now 
 come, that I may receive her blessing too." 
 
 While L'Estrange went to summon his wife to a
 
 302 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 scene which the weakness of her mind and nerves 
 rendered her unequal to support, .Nina continued : 
 " Dear, dear Ethelston, let me hear your voice ; 
 the madness, the passion, the jealousy, that filled 
 my bosom are all past, but the love is there, im- 
 perishable ; tell me, my friend, counsellor, brother, 
 that you are not angry with me for saying so 
 now." 
 
 Again the wasted fingers were pressed to his 
 burning lip; his tongue could not yet find utter- 
 ance, but a tear which fell upon them told to the 
 sufferer that there was no indifference in that 
 silence. 
 
 Captain L'Estrange now entered, accompanied 
 by his wife. Although a weak and foolish woman, 
 her heart was not dead to those natural affections 
 of a mother which the present scene might be ex- 
 pected to call forth ; she wept long and violently 
 over her dying child, and perhaps her grief might 
 be embittered by a whisper of conscience that her 
 sufferings were more or less attributable to ne- 
 glected education. Fearing that her mother's ex- 
 cessive agitation might exhaust Nina's scanty store 
 of remaining strength, Ethelston suggested to 
 Captain L'Estrange to withdraw her into the ad- 
 joining apartment; and approaching the sufferer, 
 he whispered a few words in her ear. A sweet
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 303 
 
 smile played upon her countenance as she an- 
 swered, " Yes, and without delay." 
 
 Following her retiring parents from the room, 
 he motioned to the priest, who was waiting at the 
 door, to enter ; and the sad party remained toge- 
 ther while the confessor performed the rites of 
 his sacred office. Madame L'Estrange was so 
 overpowered by her grief, that she was removed, 
 almost insensible, to her own apartment, while, 
 upon a signal from the holy man, Ethelston and 
 the father re-entered that of Nina. 
 
 Addressing the latter, she said in a faint voice, 
 " Dearest father, I have made my peace with 
 Heaven ; let me add one more prayer to you for 
 peace and forgiveness on earth?" 
 
 " Speak it, my child; it is already granted," 
 said the softened veteran. 
 
 " Pardon, for my sake, Fanchette and Jacques : 
 they have committed a great offence ; but it was 
 I who urged them to it." 
 
 " It is forgiven ; and they shall not be pun- 
 ished," replied L'Estrange : while Ethelston, deep- 
 ly touched by this amiable remembrance of the 
 offending slaves at such a moment, whispered to 
 her in a low voice, 
 
 " Blessed are the peace-makers ; for they shall 
 be called the children of God !"
 
 304 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 A grateful pressure of the hand which he had 
 placed in hers, was the only reply, as she con- 
 tinued, addressing L'Estrange, " And let them 
 marry, father, I know they love each other ; and 
 those who love should marry." Here her voice 
 became feebler and feebler, as, once more opening 
 her dark eyes, which shone with preternatural 
 lustre upon Ethelston, she added, " You, too, 
 will marry; but none will ever love you like 
 your . . . sister ! closer closer yet ! let me feel 
 your breath. Father, join your hand to his so ! 
 This death is- - Par---" 
 
 The closing word died upon her lips ; but the 
 angelic smile that lingered there seemed to ema- 
 nate from that Paradise which their last moments 
 strove in vain to name. Her earthly sorrows were 
 at rest, and the bereaved father fell exhausted into 
 Ethelston's arms.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 305 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 EXCURSION ON THE PRAIRIE. THE PARTY FALL IN WITH A 
 VETERAN HUNTER. 
 
 WE must now return to Reginald and his trusty 
 follower, Baptiste, whom we left at St. Louis, 
 where they were busily employed in disposing of 
 Colonel Brandon's share of the peltries brought 
 in by the trapping party, which he had partly 
 furnished the preceding year. They did not find 
 much difficulty in effecting an advantageous sale 
 to two of the other partners in the expedition, 
 active, enterprising men, who, from their connec- 
 tion with the Mackinaw Fur Company, were sure 
 of reselling at considerable profit. 
 
 As soon as these affairs were settled, Reginald, 
 who had been joined by Perrot, Bearskin, and the 
 remaining crew of the canoe, resolved to defer 
 no longer his proposed journey into the Osage 
 country. He left all the arrangements to Bap- 
 tiste and Bearskin, under whose superintendence
 
 306 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 the preparations advanced so rapidly, that at the 
 end of a week they were satisfactorily com- 
 pleted. 
 
 It had been determined to leave the canoe 
 at St. Louis, and to perform the journey by land ; 
 for this purpose a strong saddle-horse was pur- 
 chased for each of the party, together with six 
 pack-horses, and as many mules, for the transfer 
 of the ammunition, baggage, and presents for their 
 Indian allies. Four additional Canadian " cou- 
 reurs des Bois " were engaged to take charge of 
 the packs ; so that when they started for the 
 Western Prairies, the party mustered twelve in 
 number, whose rank and designation were as 
 follows : 
 
 Reginald Brandon ; Baptiste, his lieutenant ; 
 Bearskin, who, in the absence of the two former, 
 was to take the command ; M. Perrot, Mike 
 Smith, with three other border hunters, and the 
 four Canadians, completed the party. 
 
 Baptiste had taken care to place among the 
 packages an abundance of mirrors, cutlery, and 
 other articles most highly prized by the savages. 
 He had also selected the horses with the greatest 
 care, and two spare ones were taken, in case of 
 accidents by the way. When all was ready, even 
 the taciturn Bearskin admitted that he had never
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 307 
 
 seen a party so well fitted out, in every respect, 
 for an Indian expedition. 
 
 It was a lovely morning when they left St. 
 Louis, and entered upon the broad track which 
 led through the deep Missourian forest, with 
 occasional openings of prairie towards a trading 
 post lately opened on the Osage, a river which 
 runs from S. W. to N. E. and falls into the Mis- 
 souri. Of all the party, none were in such exu- 
 berant spirits as Perrot, who, mounted on an 
 active, spirited little Mestang horse,* capering 
 beside the bulky figure of Mike Smith, addressed 
 to him various pleasantries in broken English, 
 which the other, if he understood them, did not 
 deign to notice. 
 
 It was now near the close of May, and both 
 the prairie and the woodland scenery were clad 
 in the beautiful and varied colours of early sum- 
 mer; the grassy road along which they wound 
 their easy way was soft and elastic to the horses' 
 hoofs; and as they travelled farther from the 
 settlements scattered near St. Louis, the frequent 
 tracks of deer which they observed, tempted 
 Reginald to halt his party, and encamp for the 
 
 * Mestang, a horse bred between the wild and the tame 
 breeds : they are sometimes to be met with among the traders 
 to Santa Fe.
 
 308 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 night, while he and Baptiste sallied forth to 
 provide for them a venison supper. 
 
 After a short hunting ramble they returned, 
 bearing with them the saddle of a fine buck. A 
 huge fire was lighted ; the camp-kettles, and other 
 cooking-utensils were in immediate request, and 
 the travellers sat down to enjoy their first supper 
 in the Missourian wilderness. 
 
 Monsieur Perrot was now quite in his element, 
 and became at once an universal favourite, for 
 never had any of the party tasted coffee or flour- 
 cakes so good, or venison steaks of so delicate 
 a flavour. His good-humour was as inexhaustible 
 as his inventive culinary talent ; and they were 
 almost disposed to believe in his boasting assu- 
 rance, that so long as there was a buffalo-hide, 
 or an old mocassin left among them, they should 
 never want a good meal. 
 
 Having supped and smoked a comfortable pipe, 
 they proceeded to bivouac for the night. By the 
 advice of Baptiste, Reginald had determined to 
 accustom his party, from the first, to those precau- 
 tionary habits which might soon become so essen- 
 tial to their safety; a regular rotation of sentry 
 duty was established, the horses were carefully 
 secured, and every man lay down with his knife in 
 his belt, and his loaded rifle at his side ; the packs
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 309 
 
 were all carefully piled, so as to form a low breast- 
 work from behind which they might fire in case 
 of sudden attack; and when these dispositions were 
 completed, those who were not on the watch, 
 wrapped themselves in their blankets or buffalo- 
 skins, and with their feet towards the fire, slept 
 as comfortably as on a bed of down. 
 
 For two days they continued their march in a 
 north-west direction, meeting with no incident 
 worthy of record; the hunters found abundance 
 of game of every description, and Monsieur Per- 
 rot's skill was daily exercised upon prairie-hens, 
 turkeys, and deer. On the third day, as they 
 were winding their way leisurely down a wooded 
 valley, the sharp crack of a rifle was heard at no 
 great distance. Reginald, desiring to ascertain 
 whether Indians or White-men were hunting in 
 the neighbourhood, halted his party, and went 
 forward, accompanied by Baptiste, to endeavour, 
 unperceived, to approach the person whose shot 
 they had heard. A smooth grassy glade facilitated 
 their project, and a slight column of smoke curl- 
 ing up from an adjoining thicket served to guide 
 them towards the spot. Ere they had advanced 
 far, the parting of the brushwood showed them 
 that the object of their search was approaching 
 the place where they stood, and they had barely
 
 310 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 time to conceal themselves in a bush of sumach, 
 when the unknown hunter emerged from the 
 thicket, dragging after him a fine deer. He was 
 a powerful man of middling height, not very unlike 
 Baptiste in dress and appearance, but even more 
 embrowned and weather-beaten than the trusty 
 Guide ; he seemed to be about fifty years of age>, 
 and the hair on his temples was scant and grey ; 
 his countenance was strikingly expressive of bold- 
 ness and resolution, and his eye seemed as clear 
 and bright as that of a man in the early prime of 
 life. Leaning his rifle against an adjoining tree, 
 he proceeded to handle and feel his quarry to 
 ascertain the proportions of fat and meat; the 
 examination seemed not unsatisfactory, for when 
 it was concluded he wiped the perspiration from 
 his brow, and with a complacent smile muttered 
 half aloud, " Ah, 't aint every day as a man can 
 find a saddle like that in old Kentuck now, what 
 with their dogs, and girdlins, and clearins, and 
 hog-feedings, and the other devilments of the 
 settlements, the deer's all driven out of the coun- 
 try, or if it aint driven out, they run all the fat 
 off, so that it's only fit to feed one of your tradin' 
 townbred fellows, who wouldn't know a prime 
 buck from a Lancaster sheep ! " 
 
 After this brief soliloquy, the veteran sportsman
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 311 
 
 tucked up the sleeve of his hunting-shirt, and pro- 
 ceeded to skin and cut up his quarry, with a skill 
 and despatch that showed him to be a perfect master 
 of his craft. Reginald and Baptiste had remained 
 silent observers of his proceedings, but the former 
 inferred from the pleased twinkle of the Guide's 
 grey eyes, and the comic working of the muscles 
 of his mouth, that the solitary hunter was no 
 stranger to him: touching Baptiste lightly, he 
 whispered, " I see that we have come across an 
 acquaintance of yours in this remote place." 
 
 " That we have, Master Reginald," said the 
 Guide ; " and you 'd have known him too, if you 'd 
 spent some of the years in Kentuck, as you passed 
 at those colleges in the old country; but we'll 
 just step out and hail him, for though he aint 
 particular fond of company, he's not the man to 
 turn his back on a friend to whom he has once 
 given his hand." 
 
 So saying, he rose from his hiding place, and 
 coming out on the open glade, before Reginald 
 could inquire the stranger's name, the Guide said 
 aloud, " A prime buck, Colonel, I see your hand's 
 as steady as ever !" 
 
 At the first sound of a voice addressing him in 
 his own language, a shade of displeasure came 
 across the hunter's countenance, but as he recog-
 
 312 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 nised the speaker, it disappeared instantly, and he 
 replied, " Ha ! Baptiste, my old friend, is that 
 you ? What chase are you on here?" 
 
 So saying, he grasped the horny hand of the 
 Guide, with a heartiness which proved that the 
 latter was really welcome. 
 
 "Why, Colonel, I'm out on a kind o' mixed 
 hunt this turn, with this young gentleman, whose 
 father, Colonel Brandon, you've known many a 
 day. Master Reginald, I'm sure you'll be glad 
 to be acquainted with Colonel Boone, howbeit 
 you little expected to find him in this part of the 
 airth." 
 
 At the mention of the stranger's name, Regi- 
 nald's hand was raised unconsciously to his cap, 
 which he doffed respectfully as he said, " I ain 
 indeed glad to meet the celebrated Daniel Boone, 
 whose name is as familiar to every western hunter 
 as that of Washington or Franklin in our cities." 
 
 " My young friend," said the Colonel, laughing 
 good-humouredly, " I am heartily glad to see your 
 father's son, but you must not bring the ways of 
 the city into the woods, by flattering a rough old 
 bear-hunter with fine words." 
 
 " Nay, 11 said Reginald, " there is no flattery, for 
 Baptiste here has spoken of you to me an hundred 
 times, and has told me, as often, that a better
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 313 
 
 hunter, or a better man does not breathe. You 
 seem to have known him some time, and must, 
 therefore, be able to judge whether he is of a 
 flattering sort or not." 
 
 " Why, it wasn't much his trade, I allow," re- 
 plied the Colonel, "in old times when he and I 
 hunted bear for three weeks together in the big 
 laurel thicket at Kentucky Forks. I believe, Bap- 
 tiste, that axe at your belt is the very one with 
 which you killed the old she, who wasn't pleased 
 because we shot down two of her cubs ; she hadn't 
 manners enough to give us time to load again, 
 and when you split her skull handsomely, she was 
 playing a mighty unpleasant game with the stock 
 of my rifle. Ah, that was a reasonable quiet 
 country in those days," continued the Colonel; 
 " we had no trouble, but a lively bit of a skrim- 
 mage, now and then, with the Indians, until the 
 Browns, and Frasers, and Micklehams, and heaven 
 knows how many more came to settle in it, and what 
 with their infernal ploughs and fences, and mills, 
 the huntin' was clean spoilt I stayed as long as I 
 could, for I'd a kind o' likin 1 to it, but at last I 
 couldn't go ten mile any way without comin' to 
 some clearin 1 or log-hut, so says I to myself, 
 * Colonel, the sooner you clear out o' this, the 
 better you'll be pleased.'" 
 
 VOL. i. P
 
 314 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 " Well, Colonel," said the Guide, I heard 
 you had moved away from the' Forks, and had 
 gone further down west, but they never told me 
 you had crossed the big river." 
 
 " I only came here last fall," replied the Colo- 
 nel ; "for I found in Kentucky that as fast as 
 I moved, the settlers and squatters followed; so 
 I thought I 'd dodge 'em once for all, and make 
 for a country where the deer and I could live 
 comfortably together." 
 
 " As we have thus accidentally fallen in with 
 you," said Reginald, " I hope you will take a hun- 
 ter's meal with us before we part; our men and 
 baggage are not a mile from this spot, and Colonel 
 Boone's company will be a pleasure to us all." 
 
 The invitation was accepted as frankly as it 
 was given. 
 
 Baptiste shouldered the Colonel's venison, and 
 in a short time the three rejoined Reginald's party. 
 Daniel Boone's name alone was sufficient in the 
 West to ensure him a hearty welcome. Perrot's 
 talents were put into immediate requisition, and 
 ere long the game and poultry of the prairie were 
 roasting before a capital fire, while the indefa- 
 tigable Frenchman prepared the additional and 
 unusual luxuries of hot maize cakes and coffee. 
 
 During the repast, Reginald learnt from Co-
 
 THE PRAIRIE BIRD. 315 
 
 lonel Boone that various parties of Indians had 
 been lately hunting in the neighbourhood. He 
 described most of them as friendly, and willing to 
 trade in meat or skins for powder and lead; he 
 believed them to belong to the Konsas, a tribe 
 once powerful, and resident on the river called 
 by that name falling into the Missouri, about an 
 hundred miles to the N.W. of the place where 
 our party were now seated ; but the tribe had 
 been of late reduced by the ravages of the small- 
 pox, and by the incursions of the Pawnees, a 
 nation more numerous and warlike, whose villages 
 were situated an hundred miles higher up the 
 same river.* 
 
 The Colonel described the neighbourhood as 
 abounding in elk, deer, bear, and turkeys; but 
 he said that the beaver and the buffalo were al- 
 ready scarce, the great demand for their skins 
 having caused them to be hunted quite out of 
 the region bordering on the settlements. After 
 spending a couple of hours agreeably with our 
 party, the veteran sportsman shouldered his trusty 
 
 * The Pawnee nations have of late years fixed their winter 
 villages on the banks of the Nebraska, or Platte River, many 
 hundred miles to the N.W. of the spot named in the text : 
 but at the date of our narrative they dwelt on the banks of the 
 Konsas, where the ruins of their principal village arc still 
 faintly to be discerned. 
 
 pi
 
 316 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 rifle, and wishing our hero a successful hunt, and 
 shaking his old comrade Baptiste cordially by the 
 hand, walked off" leisurely in a northerly direction, 
 towards his present abode ; which was not, he 
 said, so far distant but that he should easily reach 
 it before sundown. 
 
 As the last glimpse of his retiring figure was 
 lost in the shades of the forest, the Guide uttered 
 one of those grunts, which he sometimes uncon- 
 sciously indulged. Reginald knew that on these 
 occasions there was something on his mind, and 
 guessing that it referred to their departed guest, 
 he said, 
 
 " Well, Baptiste, I am really glad to have seen 
 Daniel Boone ; and I can truly say, I am not dis- 
 appointed ; he seems to be just the sort of man 
 that I expected to see." 
 
 " He is a sort," said the Guide, " that we don't 
 see every day, Master Reginald. Perhaps he 
 ain't much of a talker ; an' he don't use to quarrel 
 unless there 's a reason for 't ; but if he 's once 
 aggravated, or if his friend 's in a scrape, he 's 
 rather apt to be dangerous." 
 
 " I doubt it not," said Reginald ; " there is a 
 quiet look of resolution about him; and, in a 
 difficulty, I would rather have one such man with 
 me than two or three of your violent, noisy 
 brawlers."
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 317 
 
 As he said this his eye inadvertently rested 
 upon the huge figure of Mike Smith, who was 
 seated at a little distance lazily smoking his pipe, 
 and leaning against a log of fallen timber. The 
 Guide observed the direction of Reginald's eye, 
 and guessed what was passing in his mind. A 
 grave smile stole for a moment over his features ; 
 but he made no reply, and in a few minutes, the 
 marching orders being issued, the party resumed 
 their journey. 
 
 On the following day they reached a point 
 where the track branched off in two directions; 
 the broader, and more beaten, to the N.W. ; the 
 other towards the S.W. The Guide informed 
 them that the former led along by the few scat- 
 tered settlements, that were already made on the 
 southern side of the Missouri, towards the ferry 
 and trading-post near the mouth of the Konsas 
 river; while the smaller, and less beaten track, 
 led towards the branch of Osage river, on which 
 the united party of Delawares and Osages, whom 
 they sought, were encamped. 
 
 Having followed this track for fifty miles, they 
 came to a spot, then known among hunters by 
 the name of the Elk Flats, where the branch 
 of the Osage, called Grand River, is fordable. 
 Here they crossed without accident or difficulty, 
 except that M. Perrot's horse missed his footing,
 
 318 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 and slipped into a deeper part of the stream. 
 The horse swam lustily, and soon reached the 
 opposite bank : but the Frenchman had cast him- 
 self off, and now grasped with both hands an old 
 limb of a tree that was imbedded near the middle 
 of the river ; he could just touch the ground with 
 his feet, but, being a bad swimmer, he was afraid 
 to let go his hold, for fear of being again swept 
 away by the current, while his rueful countenance, 
 and his cries for assistance, provoked the mirth 
 of all the party. 
 
 After enjoying his valet's alarm for a few minutes, 
 Reginald, who had already crossed, entered the 
 river again with Nekimi, and approaching PerYot, 
 desired him to grasp the mane firmly in his hand, 
 and leave the rest to the animal's sagacity, which 
 instruction being obeyed, he was safely brought 
 ashore, and in a short time was laughing louder 
 than the rest at his own fright, and at the ludi- 
 crous predicament from which he had been ex- 
 tricated. 
 
 The packages were all conveyed across without 
 accident, and the party found themselves encamp- 
 ed in what was then considered a part of the 
 Osage country. Here they were obliged to use 
 greater vigilance in the protection of their camp 
 and of their horses, during the night, as they had 
 not yet smoked the pipe with the chiefs, and were
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 319 
 
 liable to an attack from a party of warriors or 
 horsestealers. 
 
 The night passed, however, without any dis- 
 turbance ; and on the following day at noon, they 
 reached a spot which Baptiste recognized as a 
 former camping-place of the Osages, and which 
 he knew to be not distant from their present 
 village. Here his attention was suddenly drawn 
 to an adjoining maple, on the bark of which sun- 
 dry marks were rudely cut, and in a fork of 
 the tree were three arrows, and as many separate 
 bunches of horsehair. He examined all these 
 carefully, and replaced them exactly as he found 
 them; after which he informed Reginald that 
 three braves of the Osages had gone forward 
 during the past night on a war-excursion towards 
 the Konsas, and all these marks were left to in- 
 form their followers of their purpose, and the 
 exact path which they intended to pursue. He 
 also advised Reginald to halt his party here, 
 while he went on himself with one of the men 
 to the village, it being contrary to the customs 
 of Indian etiquette for a great man to come among 
 them unannounced. 
 
 Reginald adopted his counsel, and the sturdy 
 Guide, accompanied by one of the coureurs des 
 Bois, set out upon his mission, the result of which 
 will appear in the following chapter.
 
 320 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 REGINALD AND HIS PARTY REACH THE INDIAN ENCAMPMENT. 
 
 THE Guide and his companion pursued their 
 way leisurely along a beaten track, which led 
 them through a well timbered valley, watered by 
 one of the branches of Grand River, until it 
 emerged upon a rising slope of open prairie. 
 Having gained its summit, they saw at a little 
 distance the Indian encampment stretched along 
 the banks of a rivulet, which, after curving round 
 the base of the hill on which they now stood, 
 found its way to the line of heavy timber that 
 marked the course of the main river. They were 
 soon hailed by a mounted Delaware scout, to 
 whom Baptiste explained the peaceful nature of 
 his mission, and desired to be shown into the pre- 
 sence of the principal chiefs. 
 
 As the Guide walked through the scattered 
 lodges of the Delawares, his eye rested on more 
 than one Indian to whom he was well known ;
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 321 
 
 but as he was now acting in the capacity of am- 
 bassador, it was not consistent with Indian usage 
 that he should speak or be spoken to by others on 
 the way. So well did he know the habits of the 
 people among whom he now found himself, that 
 when he arrived before the lodge of the Great 
 Chief, he passed by War-Eagle and Winge- 
 nund, who had come to its entrance on the ap- 
 proach of a stranger, and giving them merely a 
 silent sign of recognition, took the place pointed 
 out to him in the centre of the lodge, by the side 
 of the venerable man who was the head of this 
 emigrant band of the Lenape; to whom, as the 
 highest proof of their respect and veneration, they 
 had given the name of Tamenund,* by which 
 alone he was now known throughout the nation. 
 
 The pipe of welcome having been presented, 
 and been smoked for a few minutes with becoming 
 gravity, Baptiste opened to Tamenund the object 
 
 * The name of Tamenund is doubtless familiar to all Ame- 
 ricans who have taken the slightest interest in the history of 
 the Indian tribes, as well as to that more numerous class who 
 have read the graphic and picturesque descriptions penned by 
 the great American novelist ; nevertheless, it may be necessary, 
 for the information of some European readers, to state, that 
 Tamenund was an ancient Lenape chief, whose traditionary 
 fame is so great in the tribe, that they have from time to time 
 given his name to chiefs, and even to white men, whom they 
 
 p5
 
 322 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 of his visit, and informed him that a white warrior 
 and chief, already known to some of the Dela- 
 wares present, desired to eat, to smoke, and to 
 hunt with them for a season as a brother. To 
 this Tamenund, who had already been informed 
 by War- Eagle of the character and conduct of 
 Reginald, as well as of his promised visit, replied 
 with becoming dignity and hospitality, that the 
 young white chief should be welcome; that his 
 heart was known to be great among the Dela- 
 wares, and that both he and his people should be 
 held as brothers; at the same time he informed 
 the Guide, that as they were about to move their 
 encampment immediately to a more favourable 
 spot, it might be better for the White Chief to join 
 them on the following morning, when all should be 
 prepared for his reception. 
 
 The Guide having acceded to this suggestion, 
 rose to take his leave, and retired with his com- 
 panion from the village. Before they had gone a 
 
 desired especially to honour. At the time of the revolutionary 
 war, so numerous were the traditions and legends respecting 
 this hero, that he was in some quarters established as the 
 patron saint of America, under the name of St. Tammany ; 
 and hence arose the Tammany societies and Tammany build- 
 ings in various parts of the Union. See Heckewalder's Histo- 
 rical Account of the Indian Nations, chap, xl., and The Last 
 of the Mohicans, vol. iii. p. 152., &c.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 323 
 
 mile on their return, they heard behind them the 
 trampling of horses, and Baptiste recognised War- 
 Eagle and Wingenund approaching at full speed, 
 who greeted him cordially, and made many in- 
 quiries about Netis and the Lily of Mooshanne. 
 
 Having acquired the desired information, it was 
 agreed, that before noon on the following day Re- 
 ginald should come to the spot where they were 
 now conversing, and that War- Eagle should be 
 there to escort and accompany him to his first 
 meeting with the Delaware and Osage chiefs. 
 
 These preliminaries being arranged, the Indians 
 galloped back to the village, and Baptiste returned 
 without accident or interruption to Reginald's 
 camp, where he gave an account of his mission 
 and of the arrangements for the morrow's confer- 
 ence. 
 
 Early on the following morning they set forth 
 towards the Indian village. By Baptiste's advice, 
 Reginald attired himself more gaily than usual ; his 
 hunting-shirt and leggins of elkskin were orna- 
 mented with fringes; the bugle slung across his 
 shoulders was suspended by a green cord adorned 
 with tassels; on his head he wore a forage-cap 
 encircled by a gold band ; a brace of silver-mounted 
 pistols were stuck in his belt, and a German boar- 
 knife hung at his side ; he had allowed Baptiste to
 
 324 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 ornament Nekimi's bridle with beads, after tbe 
 Indian fashion, and the noble animal pranced 
 under his gallant rider as if conscious that he 
 was expected to show his beauty and his mettle. 
 The dress and appearance of Reginald, though 
 fanciful and strange, was rendered striking by the 
 grace and muscular vigour of his frame, as well 
 as by the open, fearless character of his coun- 
 tenance ; and the party of Whitemen went gaily 
 forward, confident in the favourable impression 
 which their young leader would make on their 
 Indian allies. 
 
 When they reached the spot where Baptiste had, 
 on the preceding day, parted from War-Eagle, 
 they descried two Indians sitting at the root of an 
 old maple-tree, as if awaiting their arrival; a 
 single glance enabled Reginald to recognise them, 
 and springing from his horse, he greeted War- 
 Eagle and Wingenund with affectionate cordiality, 
 and read in the looks of both, though they spoke 
 little, that he was heartily welcome. When they 
 had saluted Baptiste, Reginald introduced them 
 in form to the other members of his party, and 
 among the rest, to Monsieur Perrot, who having 
 as yet seen few Indians, and those of the meanest 
 class, was surprised at the noble and dignified 
 appearance of War-Eagle, to whom he doffed his
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 325 
 
 cap with as much respect as if he had been a 
 field-marshal of France. 
 
 Having made a short halt, during which the 
 pipe was passed round, and some cakes of Indian 
 corn and honey set before their guests, the party 
 again moved forward, under the guidance of War- 
 Eagle. Leaving the heavy timber in the valley, 
 they ascended the opposite hill, where a magni- 
 ficent prospect opened upon their view ; below 
 them was an undulating prairie of boundless ex- 
 tent, through the middle of which ran a tributary 
 branch of Grand River; behind them lay the 
 verdant mass of forest from which they had lately 
 emerged; the plain in front was dotted with the 
 lodges of the Delawares and the Osages, while 
 scattered groups of Indians, and grazing horses, 
 gave life, animation, and endless variety to the 
 scene. 
 
 Halting for a moment on the brow of the hill, 
 War-Eagle pointed out to Reginald the lodge of 
 his father Tamenund, distinguished above the rest 
 by its superior size and elevation, and at the same 
 time showed him at the other extremity of the 
 encampment, a lodge of similar dimensions, which 
 he described as being that of the Osage chief. 
 
 " How is he called?" inquired Reginald. 
 
 " Mahega," replied the War- Eagle.
 
 326 THE PRAIRIE- BIRD. 
 
 At the mention of this name the Guide uttered 
 one of those peculiar sounds, something between 
 a whistle and a grunt, by which Reginald knew 
 that something was passing in his mind, but on 
 this occasion, without apparently noticing the in- 
 terruption, he continued, addressing War-Eagle, 
 " Will Mahega receive me too as a brother is the 
 Osage chief a friend to the Whitemen ? " 
 
 " Mahega is a warrior," replied the Indian ; " he 
 hunts with the Lenape, and he must be a friend 
 of their brother." 
 
 Not only did this answer appear evasive, but 
 there was also something more than usually con- 
 strained in the tone and manner of War-Eagle, 
 which did not escape the observation of Reginald, 
 and with the straightforward openness of his cha- 
 racter, he said, " War-Eagle, my he,art is open to 
 you, and my tongue can be silent if required 
 speak to me freely, and tell me if Mahega is a 
 friend or not; is he a brave or a snake ?" 
 
 War-Eagle, fixing his searching eye upon Regi- 
 nald's countenance, replied, " Mahega is a warrior 
 the scalps in his lodge are many his name is 
 not a lie, but his heart is not that of a Lenape 
 War- Eagle will not speak of him : Grande Hache 
 knows him, and my brother's eyes will be open." 
 
 Having thus spoken, the young chief added a
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 327 
 
 few words in his own tongue to Baptiste, and 
 making a sign for Wingenund to follow, he gal- 
 loped off at speed towards the encampment. 
 
 Reginald, surprised, and somewhat inclined to 
 be displeased by their abrupt departure, turned to 
 the Guide, and inquired the cause of it, and also 
 the meaning of War- Eagle's last words. 
 
 Baptiste, shaking his head significantly, replied 
 in a low voice, " I know Mahega well at least 
 I have heard much of him ; his name signifies 
 ' Red-hand,' and, as the young chief says, it tells 
 no lie, for he has killed many; last year he at- 
 tacked a war-party of the Outagamis* near the 
 Great River, and cut them off to a man, he him- 
 self killed their chief and several of their war- 
 riors they say he is the strongest and the bravest 
 man in the nation." 
 
 " It seems to me," said Reginald, " that War- 
 Eagle and he are not very good friends." 
 
 " They are not," replied Baptiste ; " the young 
 Delaware has evidently some quarrel with him, 
 and therefore would not speak of him we shall 
 learn what it is before many days are over; mean- 
 while, Master Reginald, say nothing to any others 
 
 * The tribe called by white men " the Foxes," who inha- 
 bit chiefly the region between the Upper Mississippi and Lake 
 Michigan.
 
 328 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 of the party on this subject, for they may take 
 alarm, or show suspicion, and if they do, your 
 summer hunt may chance to end in rougher play 
 than we expect. I will keep my eye on ' Red- 
 hand,' and will soon tell you what tree he's making 
 for." 
 
 " Why did they gallop off so abruptly?" in- 
 quired Reginald. 
 
 " They are gone to rejoin the bands which are 
 coming out to receive us on our entrance," replied 
 the Guide. " We must put our party in their best 
 array, and get the presents ready, for we have not 
 many minutes to spare," 
 
 The event proved the correctness of his calcula- 
 tion ; for they had scarcely time to select from the 
 packs those articles destined to be presented to 
 the chiefs at this interview, before they saw two 
 large bands of mounted Indians gallop towards 
 them from the opposite extremities of the encamp- 
 ment. As they drew near that which came from 
 the Delaware quarter, and was headed by War- 
 Eagle in person, they checked their speed, and 
 approached slowly, while their leader, advancing 
 in front of the band, saluted Reginald and his 
 party with dignified courtesy. Meanwhile the 
 body of Osages continued their career with head-
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 329 
 
 long speed, shouting, yelling, and going through 
 all the exciting manoeuvres of a mock fight, after 
 their wild fashion. Their dr.ess was more scanty 
 and less ornamented than that of the Delawares ; 
 but being tricked out with painted horsehair, porcu- 
 pine quills, and feathers, it bore altogether a more 
 gay and picturesque appearance; neither can it 
 be denied that they were, in general, better horse- 
 men than their allies ; and they seemed to delight 
 in showing off their equestrian skill, especially in 
 galloping up to Reginald's party at the very top of 
 their speed, and then either halting so suddenly 
 as to throw their horses quite back .upon their 
 haunches, or dividing off to the right and to the 
 left, and renewing their manoeuvres in another 
 quarter with increased extravagance of noise and 
 gesture. 
 
 Reginald having learned from Baptiste that this 
 was their mode of showing honour to guests on 
 their arrival, awaited patiently the termination of 
 their manoeuvres ; and when at length they ceased, 
 and the Osage party reined their horses up by the 
 side of the Delawares, he went forward and shook 
 hands with their leader, a warrior somewhat older 
 than War-Eagle, and of a fine martial appearance. 
 As soon as he found an opportunity, Reginald,
 
 330 THE PRAIRIE- BIRD. 
 
 turning to Wingenund, who was close behind him, 
 inquired, in English, if that Osage chief was 
 Mahega?" 
 
 " No," replied the youth, " that is a brave,* 
 called in their tongue the Black- Wolf. Mahega," 
 he added with a peculiar smile, " is very different." 
 
 " How mean you, Wingenund ?" 
 
 " Black-Wolf," replied the youth, " is a warrior, 
 and has no fear, but he is not like Mahega; an 
 antelope is not an elk ! " 
 
 While this conversation was going on, the party 
 entered the encampment, and wound their way 
 amongst its scattered lodges, towards that of 
 Tamenund, where, as the War-Eagle informed 
 Reginald, a feast was prepared for his reception, 
 
 * In describing the mariners and distinctions of rank among 
 the Indians of the Missouri plains, it is necessary to adopt 
 the terms in common use among the guides and traders, how- 
 ever vague and unsatisfactory those terms may be. In these 
 tribes the chieftainship is partly hereditary and partly elec- 
 tive ; there is usually one Great Chief, and there are also 
 chiefs of a second degree, who are chiefs of different bands 
 in the tribe ; next to these in rank are the " Braves," the 
 leading warriors of the nation ; and in order to be qualified for 
 admission into this rank, an Indian must have killed an 
 enemy or given other sufficient evidence of courage and ca- 
 pacity. When a war-council is held, the opinion of the 
 principal Brave is frequently preferred before that of the 
 chief.
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 331 
 
 to which Mahega and the other Osage leaders 
 were invited. 
 
 On arriving before the Great Lodge, Reginald 
 and his companions dismounted, and giving their 
 horses to the youths in attendance, shook hands 
 in succession with the principal chiefs and braves 
 of the two nations. Reginald was much struck by 
 the benevolent and dignified countenance of the 
 Delaware chief; but in spite of himself, and of a 
 preconceived dislike which he was inclined to en- 
 tertain towards Mahega, or Red-hand, his eye 
 rested on that haughty chieftain with mingled 
 surprise and admiration. He was nearly a head 
 taller than those by whom he was surrounded; and 
 his limbs, though cast in an Herculean mould, 
 showed the symmetrical proportions which are so 
 distinctive of the North American Indians ; his 
 forehead was bold and high, his nose aquiline, and 
 his mouth broad, firm, and expressive of most 
 determined character; his eye was rather small, 
 but bright and piercing as a hawk's ; his hair had 
 been all shaven from his head, with the exception 
 of the scalp-lock on the crown, which was painted 
 scarlet, and interwoven with a tuft of horsehair 
 dyed of the same colour. Around his muscular 
 throat was suspended a collar formed from the 
 claws of the grisly bear, ornamented with parti-
 
 332 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 coloured beads, entwined with the delicate fur of 
 the white ermine; his hunting-shirt and leggins 
 were of the finest antelope skin, and his mocassins 
 were adorned with beads and the stained quills of 
 the porcupine. He leant carelessly on a bow, which 
 few men in the tribe could bend. At his back were 
 slung his arrows in a quiver made of wolf-skin, so 
 disposed that the grinning visage of the animal 
 was seen above his shoulder, while a war-club and 
 scalping-knife, fastened to his belt, completed the 
 formidable Mahega^s equipment. 
 
 As he glanced his eye over the party of white 
 men, there was an expression of scornful pride 
 on his countenance, which the quick temper of 
 their youthful leader was ill-disposed to brook, 
 had not the prudent counsels of the Guide pre- 
 pared him for the exercise of self-command. Ne- 
 vertheless, as he turned from the Osage chief to 
 the bulky proportions of his gigantic follower, 
 Mike Smith, he felt that it was like comparing 
 a lion with an ox ; and that in the event of a 
 quarrel between them, the rifle alone could render 
 its issue doubtful. 
 
 The feast of welcome was now prepared in the 
 lodge of Tamenund, which was composed of bison 
 skins stretched upon poles, arranged in the form 
 of a horse-shoe, and covering an extent of ground
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 333 
 
 apparently not less than twenty yards in length. 
 Reginald observed also several smaller lodges 
 immediately adjoining that of the chief, on one 
 side, and on the other a circular tent of wax-cloth, 
 or painted canvass, evidently procured from white 
 men, as it was of excellent texture, and its door, 
 or aperture, protected by double folds of the same 
 material. 
 
 Whilst he was still looking at this comparatively 
 civilized dwelling, with some curiosity to know 
 by whom it might be tenanted, the folds of the 
 opening were pushed aside, and an elderly man 
 appeared, who, after contemplating for a moment 
 the newly-arrived group, came forward to offer 
 them a friendly salutation. He was apparently 
 between fifty and sixty ; but his years were not 
 easily guessed, for his snow-white hair might seem 
 to have numbered seventy winters; while from 
 the uprightness of his carriage, and the elasticity 
 of his step, he seemed scarcely past the vigour of 
 middle life. In figure he was tall and slight ; his 
 countenance, though tanned by long exposure to 
 the sun, was strikingly attractive, and his mild 
 blue eye beamed with an expression of benevo- 
 lence not to be mistaken. His dress was a black 
 frock of serge, fastened at the waist by a girdle 
 of the same colour, from which was suspended
 
 334 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 a small bag, wherein he carried the few simples, 
 and instruments requisite for his daily offices of 
 charity and kindness. Dark grey trousers of the 
 coarsest texture, and mocassins of buffalo-hide, 
 completed the dress of Paul Miiller, already men- 
 tioned by Wingenund to Reginald as the " Black 
 Father ;" under which name, translated according 
 to their various languages, the pious and excellent 
 Missionary was known among the Delawares, 
 Osages, loways, Otoes, Konsas, and other tribes 
 then inhabiting the regions lying between the 
 Missouri and the Arkansas. 
 
 Such was the man who now came forward to 
 greet the newly-arrived party ; and such was the 
 irresistible charm of his voice and manner, that 
 from the first Reginald felt himself constrained 
 to love and respect him. 
 
 The feast being now ready, and Reginald hav- 
 ing pointed out Baptiste and Bearskin as his 
 officers, or lieutenants, they were invited with him 
 to sit down in the lodge of Tamenund, with the 
 principal chiefs of the Delawares, the Chief and 
 Great Medicine-man* of the Osages, and the 
 
 * " Medicine-men." This term (commonly used by traders 
 among the Indians beyond the Mississippi) signifies the 
 "priests," or "mystery-men," who are set apait for the cele- 
 bration of all religious rites and ceremonies. They are the
 
 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 335 
 
 Black Father. (Mike Smith, and the other white 
 men being feasted by a brave in an adjoining lodge.) 
 The pipe was lighted, and having been passed twice 
 round the party with silent gravity, the Great 
 
 * 
 
 Medicine made a speech, in which he praised the 
 virtues and hospitality of Tamenund, and paid 
 many compliments to the white guests ; after 
 which a substantial dinner was set before them, 
 consisting of roasted buffalo-ribs, venison, and 
 boiled maize. 
 
 Reginald had never before been present at an 
 Indian feast, and though he had the appetite 
 naturally belonging to his age and health, he soon 
 found that he was no match, as a trencherman, 
 for those among whom he was now placed ; and 
 before they had half- finished their meal, he re- 
 placed his knife in its sheath, and announced him- 
 self satisfied. 
 
 The old chief smiled good-humouredly, and said 
 that he would soon do better, whilst Mahega, qui- 
 etly commencing an attack upon a third buffalo- 
 
 same class as those who were described by Charlevoix, and other 
 early French writers, as " Jongleurs," because they unite 
 medical practice to their sacerdotal office, and, more especially 
 in the former, exercise all manner of absurd mummery. Their 
 dress, character, and habits vary according to the tribe to 
 which they belong; but they are genuine "Jongleurs" 
 throughout.
 
 336 THE PRAIRIE-BIRD. 
 
 rib, glanced at him with a look of contempt that 
 he was at no pains to conceal, and which, as may 
 well be imagined, increased our hero's dislike for 
 the gigantic Osage. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Printed by S. & J. BENTIEY, WILSON, and FLEY, 
 Bangor House, Shoe Lane.



 
 \, 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 u ft MAY 1 tS| 
 
 ' 
 
 17 n 
 
 to INTERUBRARY 
 
 MAY 3 1972 
 
 nww 
 
 
 
 
 junlt is 
 
 I 
 
 ;'D LD.URS, 
 
 \*v 
 
 Form L9-50m-4,'61(B8994s4)444
 
 tt 
 
 v