The Prairie (Fiscle Part 3) Of 2 by J Fenimore Cooper (top non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📖

To The Possession Of

The Scalp Of A Fallen Brave,  But One Solitary Instance Of Success

Occurred.

 

The Opposition Of A Particular Chief To The Hostile Proceedings In The

Councils Of That Morning Has Been Already Seen. But,  After Having

Raised His Voice In Vain,  In Support Of Peace,  His Arm Was Not

Backward In Doing Its Duty In The War. His Prowess Has Been Mentioned;

And It Was Chiefly By His Courage And Example,  That The Tetons

Sustained Themselves In The Heroic Manner They Did,  When The Death Of

Mahtoree Was Known. This Warrior,  Who,  In The Figurative Language Of

His People,  Was Called "The Swooping Eagle," Had Been The Last To

Abandon The Hopes Of Victory. When He Found That The Support Of The

Dreaded Rifle Had Robbed His Band Of The Hard-Earned Advantages,  He

Sullenly Retired Amid A Shower Of Missiles,  To The Secret Spot Where

He Had Hid His Horse,  In The Mazes Of The Highest Grass. Here He Found

A New And An Entirely Unexpected Competitor,  Ready To Dispute With Him

For The Possession Of The Beast. It Was Bohrecheena,  The Aged Friend

Of Mahtoree; He Whose Voice Had Been Given In Opposition To His Own

Wiser Opinions,  Transfixed With An Arrow,  And Evidently Suffering

Under The Pangs Of Approaching Death.

 

"I Have Been On My Last War-Path," Said The Grim Old Warrior,  When He

Found That The Real Owner Of The Animal Had Come To Claim His

Property; "Shall A Pawnee Carry The White Hairs Of A Sioux Into His

Village,  To Be A Scorn To His Women And Children?"

 

Part 3 Chapter 30 Pg 137

The Other Grasped His Hand,  Answering To The Appeal With The Stern

Look Of Inflexible Resolution. With This Silent Pledge,  He Assisted

The Wounded Man To Mount. So Soon As He Had Led The Horse To The

Margin Of The Cover,  He Threw Himself Also On Its Back,  And Securing

His Companion To His Belt,  He Issued On The Open Plain,  Trusting

Entirely To The Well-Known Speed Of The Beast For Their Mutual Safety.

The Pawnees Were Not Long In Catching A View Of These New Objects,  And

Several Turned Their Steeds To Pursue. The Race Continued For A Mile

Without A Murmur From The Sufferer,  Though In Addition To The Agony Of

His Body,  He Had The Pain Of Seeing His Enemies Approach At Every Leap

Of Their Horses.

 

"Stop," He Said,  Raising A Feeble Arm To Check The Speed Of His

Companion; "The Eagle Of My Tribe Must Spread His Wings Wider. Let Him

Carry The White Hairs Of An Old Warrior Into The Burnt-Wood Village!"

 

Few Words Were Necessary,  Between Men Who Were Governed By The Same

Feelings Of Glory,  And Who Were So Well Trained In The Principles Of

Their Romantic Honour. The Swooping Eagle Threw Himself From The Back

Of The Horse,  And Assisted The Other To Alight. The Old Man Raised His

Tottering Frame To Its Knees,  And First Casting A Glance Upward At The

Countenance Of His Countryman,  As If To Bid Him Adieu,  He Stretched

Out His Neck To The Blow He Himself Invited. A Few Strokes Of The

Tomahawk,  With A Circling Gash Of The Knife,  Sufficed To Sever The

Head From The Less Valued Trunk. The Teton Mounted Again,  Just In

Season To Escape A Flight Of Arrows Which Came From His Eager And

Disappointed Pursuers. Flourishing The Grim And Bloody Visage,  He

Darted Away From The Spot With A Shout Of Triumph,  And Was Seen

Scouring The Plains,  As If He Were Actually Borne Along On The Wings

Of The Powerful Bird From Whose Qualities He Had Received His

Flattering Name. The Swooping Eagle Reached His Village In Safety. He

Was One Of The Few Siouxes Who Escaped From The Massacre Of That Fatal

Day; And For A Long Time He Alone Of The Saved Was Able To Lift His

Voice,  In The Councils Of His Nation,  With Undiminished Confidence.

 

The Knife And The Lance Cut Short The Retreat Of The Larger Portion Of

The Vanquished. Even The Retiring Party Of The Women And Children Were

Scattered By The Conquerors; And The Sun Had Long Sunk Behind The

Rolling Outline Of The Western Horizon,  Before The Fell Business Of

That Disastrous Defeat Was Entirely Ended.

 

 

 

 

Part 3 Chapter 31 Pg 138

            Which Is The Merchant Here,  And Which The Jew?

                                                   --Shakspeare.

 

The Day Dawned,  The Following Morning,  On A More,  Tranquil Scene. The

Work Of Blood Had Entirely Ceased; And As The Sun Arose,  Its Light Was

Shed On A Broad Expanse Of Quiet And Solitude. The Tents Of Ishmael

Were Still Standing,  Where They Had Been Last Seen,  But Not Another

Vestige Of Human Existence Could Be Traced In Any Other Part Of The

Waste. Here And There Little Flocks Of Ravenous Birds Were Sailing And

Screaming Above Those Spots Where Some Heavy-Footed Teton Had Met His

Death,  But Every Other Sign Of The Recent Combat Had Passed Away. The

River Was To Be Traced Far Through The Endless Meadows,  By Its

Serpentine And Smoking Bed; And The Little Silvery Clouds Of Vapour,

Which Hung Above The Pools And Springs,  Were Beginning To Melt In Air,

As They Felt The Quickening Warmth,  Which,  Pouring From The Glowing

Sky,  Shed Its Bland And Subtle Influence On Every Object Of The Vast

And Unshadowed Region. The Prairie Was Like The Heavens After The

Passage Of The Gust,  Soft,  Calm,  And Soothing.

 

It Was In The Midst Of Such A Scene That The Family Of The Squatter

Assembled To Make Their Final Decision,  Concerning The Several

Individuals Who Had Been Thrown Into Their Power,  By The Fluctuating

Chances Of The Incidents Related. Every Being Possessing Life And

Liberty Had Been Afoot,  Since The First Streak Of Grey Had Lighted The

East; And Even The Youngest Of The Erratic Brood Seemed Conscious That

The Moment Had Arrived,  When Circumstances Were About To Transpire

That Might Leave A Lasting Impression On The Wild Fortunes Of Their

Semi-Barbarous Condition.

 

Ishmael Moved Through His Little Encampment,  With The Seriousness Of

One Who Had Been Unexpectedly Charged With Matters Of A Gravity,

Exceeding Any Of The Ordinary Occurrences Of His Irregular Existence.

His Sons However,  Who Had So Often Found Occasions To Prove The

Inexorable Severity Of Their Father's Character,  Saw,  In His Sullen

Mien And Cold Eye,  Rather A Determination To Adhere To His

Resolutions,  Which Usually Were As Obstinately Enforced As They Were

Harshly Conceived,  Than Any Evidences Of Wavering Or Doubt. Even

Esther Was Sensibly Affected By The Important Matters That Pressed So

Heavily On The Interests Of Her Family. While She Neglected None Of

Those Domestic Offices,  Which Would Probably Have Proceeded Under Any

Conceivable Circumstances,  Just As The World Turns Round With

Earthquakes Rending Its Crust And Volcanoes Consuming Its Vitals,  Yet

Her Voice Was Pitched To A Lower And More Foreboding Key Than Common,

And The Still Frequent Chidings Of Her Children Were Tempered By

Something Like The Milder Dignity Of Parental Authority.

 

Abiram,  As Usual,  Seemed The One Most Given To Solicitude And Doubt.

There Were Certain Misgivings,  In The Frequent Glances That He Turned

On The Unyielding Countenance Of Ishmael,  Which Might Have Betrayed

How Little Of Their Former Confidence And Good Understanding Existed

Between Them. His Looks Appeared To Be Vacillating Between Hope And

Fear. At Times,  His Countenance Lighted With The Gleamings Of A Sordid

Joy,  As He Bent His Look On The Tent Which Contained His Recovered

Prisoner,  And Then,  Again,  The Impression Seemed Unaccountably Chased

Away By The Shadows Of Intense Apprehension. When Under The Influence

Of The Latter Feeling,  His Eye Never Failed To Seek The Visage Of His

Dull And Impenetrable Kinsman. But There He Rather Found Reason For

Alarm Than Grounds Of Encouragement,  For The Whole Character Of The

Squatter's Countenance Expressed The Fearful Truth,  That He Had

Redeemed His Dull Faculties From The Influence Of The Kidnapper,  And

Part 3 Chapter 31 Pg 139

That His Thoughts Were Now Brooding Only On The Achievement Of His Own

Stubborn Intentions.

 

It Was In This State Of Things That The Sons Of Ishmael,  In Obedience

To An Order From Their Father,  Conducted The Several Subjects Of His

Contemplated Decisions,  From Their Places Of Confinement Into The Open

Air. No One Was Exempted From This Arrangement. Middleton And Inez,

Paul And Ellen,  Obed And The Trapper,  Were All Brought Forth And

Placed In Situations That Were Deemed Suitable To Receive The Sentence

Of Their Arbitrary Judge. The Younger Children Gathered Around The

Spot,  In Momentary But Engrossing Curiosity,  And Even Esther Quitted

Her Culinary Labours,  And Drew Nigh To Listen.

 

Hard-Heart Alone,  Of All His Band,  Was Present To Witness The Novel

And Far From Unimposing Spectacle. He Stood Leaning,  Gravely,  On His

Lance,  While The Smoking Steed,  That Grazed Nigh,  Showed That He Had

Ridden Far And Hard To Be A Spectator,  On The Occasion.

 

Ishmael Had Received His New Ally With A Coldness That Showed His

Entire Insensibility To That Delicacy,  Which Had Induced The Young

Chief To Come Alone,  In Order That The Presence Of His Warriors Might

Not Create Uneasiness,  Or Distrust. He Neither Courted Their

Assistance,  Nor Dreaded Their Enmity,  And He Now Proceeded To The

Business Of The Hour With As Much Composure,  As If The Species Of

Patriarchal Power,  He Wielded,  Was Universally Recognised.

 

There Is Something Elevating In The Possession Of Authority,  However

It May Be Abused. The Mind Is Apt To Make Some Efforts To Prove The

Fitness Between Its Qualities And The Condition Of Its Owner,  Though

It May Often Fail,  And Render That Ridiculous Which Was Only Hated

Before. But The Effect On Ishmael Bush Was Not So Disheartening. Grave

In Exterior,  Saturnine By Temperament,  Formidable By His Physical

Means,  And Dangerous From His Lawless Obstinacy,  His Self-Constituted

Tribunal Excited A Degree Of Awe,  To Which Even The Intelligent

Middleton Could Not Bring Himself To Be Entirely Insensible. Little

Time,  However,  Was Given To Arrange His Thoughts; For The Squatter,

Though Unaccustomed To Haste,  Having Previously Made Up His Mind,  Was

Not Disposed To Waste The Moments In Delay. When He Saw That All Were

In Their Places,  He Cast A Dull Look Over His Prisoners,  And Addressed

Himself To The Captain,  As The Principal Man Among The Imaginary

Delinquents.

 

"I Am Called Upon This Day,  To Fill The Office Which In The

Settlements You Give Unto Judges,  Who Are Set Apart To Decide On

Matters That Arise Between Man And Man. I Have But Little Knowledge Of

The Ways Of The Courts,  Though There Is A Rule That