Oonomoo the Huron by Edward Sylvester Ellis (a book to read .TXT) 📖

would discover them to the Miamis on the bank. With a skill as wonderful as it was rare even among his own people, he regulated his movements while submerged, in such a manner that they operated to carry both combatants up-stream, had there been no current, so that when they came to the surface, it was very nearly in the same spot that they had gone down.

But Oonomoo and the Miami had whipped out their knives, and they raised them aloft at the same instant. But neither descended. They were still in the air, when the one spoke the simple word. "Heigon!" and the other simultaneously with him uttered the name of "Oonomoo," and the hands of both dropped beside them. Without speaking, the Miami grasped the edge of the rock and clambered to the surface, and beckoned for the Huron to follow; but the latter held back, and whispered, in the tongue of his companion:

"Miamis on shore wait to make Oonomoo a prisoner."

"Oonomoo is the friend of Heigon, and the Miamis will not injure him."

[Illustration: But Oonomoo and the Miami had whipped out their knives.]

The Huron hesitated no longer, but the next moment stood beside the Miami on the broad mass of stone. Heigon gave a short peculiar whoop, which was instantly followed by the appearance of the other canoe with its four inmates, who impelled it forward with great rapidity, and in almost a twinkling were also upon the rock. Each held a glittering knife in hand, and they gazed upon their victim with exulting eyes, who stood firm, unmoved, and returned their glances with as proud and defiant an air as a king would have looked upon the vassals beneath him. They were about to proceed to violence, when Heigon simply said: "He is my friend." Instantly every knife was sheathed, and the gloating expression of the Miamis changed to one of interest and pleasure. They gathered more closely around the Huron, and looked to their companion for some further explanation.

"When the snow was upon the ground," said he, "Heigon was hunting, and he became weak and feeble, like an old man, or the child that cannot walk.[1] The snow came down till it covered the rocks like this, and Heigon grew weaker and feebler until he could walk no further, and lay down in the snow to die. When he was covered over, and the Great Spirit was about to take him to himself, another Indian came that way. He was Heigon's enemy, but he lifted him to his feet and brushed the snow from his face and limbs and poured his fire-water down his throat. He dug the snow away until he came to the dry leaves, and then he kindled a fire to warm Heigon by. He stayed by him all night, and in the morning Heigon was strong and a man again. When he went away, he asked the Indian his name. It was Oonomoo, the Huron. He stands by us, and is now in our power."

The eyes of the Miamis fairly sparkled as they listened to this narration of their comrade, and they looked upon the far-famed Huron with feelings only of friendship and admiration. He had been considered for years as one of the deadliest enemies of the Miamis, and his capture or death by them would have been an exploit that would have descended through tradition to the last remnant of their people. Fully sensible of this, this same Huron had come upon one of their most distinguished warriors when he was as helpless as an infant, and could have been scalped by a mere child. But the magnanimous savage had acted the part of a good Samaritan, feeding and warming him and sending him on his way in the morning, refreshed and strengthened. Such a deed as this could never be forgotten, either by the recipient or those of his tribe to whom it became known.

During the narrative the Huron stood with arms folded, and as insensible to the praises of Heigon as if he had not uttered a syllable since the advent of his companions. He who appeared to be the leading warrior now asked:

"Whither does my brother Huron wish to go?"

"To the Shawnee village on the shore of the Miami."

"We journey thither, and will take our brother with us."

"Oonomoo goes as the enemy of the Shawnees. He goes to save a pale-faced maiden who has fallen into their hands. My Miami brothers go as the friends of the Shawnees."

"They go as the friends of Oonomoo, who saved one of their warriors, and they will carry him in their canoe."

"The feet of Oonomoo are like the deer's, and his eyes are as the eagle's. He can see his path at night in the wood, and can journey from the rising until the setting sun without becoming weary."

"We know our brother is brave and fleet of foot. His Miami friends will carry him far upon his journey, and when he wishes to go through the woods, they will leave him upon the shore."

Oonomoo could not decline this kind offer. Simply to show in a small degree their friendship for him, the Miamis insisted upon carrying him in their canoe as far as he wished, landing him upon the bank whenever it was his desire that they should do so. The Miamis being allies of the Shawnees, and on their way to join one of their war-parties, they could not (even on account of their peculiar relations with the Huron) act as their enemies in any way; consequently the Huron did not expect or ask their assistance. But while they were prevented from aiding him in the least, in his attempt to rescue the captive, the claims which he had upon their gratitude were such, that he well knew they would carefully avoid throwing any obstacle in his way, and would act as neutrals throughout the affair, believing, however, that it was not inconsistent with such a profession to carry him even in sight of the Shawnee village itself. Beyond that it would be as if these five Miamis were a thousand miles distant.

All this time, it may well be supposed, that Lieutenant Canfield was no uninterested spectator of the interview between his Huron friend and the Miamis. When they made their appearance upon the rock, he believed that Oonomoo had been captured. He was about to seek his own safety in flight, but he was struck by the apparently good feeling of the conference. Their words being in the Miami tongue, he could not distinguish their meaning, but from their sound, judged them to be friendly in their nature. Still, there could be no certainty, and he was in a torment of doubt, when he was startled by hearing the Huron call his name. At first he determined not to answer, thinking his friend had been compelled to betray him by his captors. A moment's reflection, however, convinced him that such could not be the case.

"Canfiel'! Canfiel'!"

"What do you want, Oonomoo?"

"Go down bank—wait for us—Miami won't hurt."

The young soldier did as he requested, and the next moment saw the two canoes put out from the rock. In the first were the four Miamis, and in the second Oonomoo and Heigon, the latter using the paddle. They touched a point on the shore about a hundred yards down-stream, almost at the same moment that it was reached by the Lieutenant.

"How-de-do, brudder?" asked the foremost, extending his hand. The soldier exchanged similar greetings with the others, when at a signal the five seated themselves upon the ground, and he followed suit. A pipe, the "calumet of peace," was produced and passed from mouth to mouth, each one smoking slowly and solemnly a few whiffs.

This tedious ceremony occupied fully a half-hour, during which it was nearly impossible for the young Lieutenant to conceal his impatience. It seemed to him nothing but a sheer waste of time, and he wondered how Oonomoo could take it so composedly. At length the last smoker had taken what he evidently believed the proper number of whiffs, and they arose and embarked again in their canoes.

In the boat, which really belonged to the Huron, were seated himself, Lieutenant Canfield, and Heigon, who insisted upon using the paddle himself. For a moment they glided along under the shadow of the wooded bank, and then, coming out on the clear, moonlit surface of the river, they shot downstream like swallows upon the wing.

It was not quite ten miles to the Shawnee town, and, as it was now in the neighborhood of midnight, their destination would be easily reached in time.

All went well for some four or five miles, when an exclamation from the canoe in advance attracted the attention of Oonomoo and the soldier.

"What is it?" inquired the latter.

"Ugh! nudder canoe comin'—Shawnees."

Such proved to be the case. A large war-canoe, containing over a score of painted warriors, was coming up the river, nearly in the center of the stream, while the Miamis were nearer the right bank. When nearly opposite each other, the war-canoe paused while that which contained the four Miamis went over to it, somewhat after the manner that two friendly ships come to anchor in the midst of the ocean, and exchange congratulations and news.

During the interview, Heigon prudently kept at a safe distance, but from the gesticulations and words of the Shawnees it was evident they were making inquiries in regard to the inmates of his boat. The replies proved satisfactory, for a moment later, the canoes separated, and each party proceeded on his way. Little did the Shawnees dream that the very foe for whom they were searching—he whose scalp was worth that of a hundred warriors, whose death they would have nearly given their own life to secure—little did they dream, we say, that this very man was within a few rods of them—so close that he recognized the features of every one of their number!

Several miles further, and Oonomoo spoke to Heigon. They were now in the vicinity of the Shawnee village, and he wished to land. Heigon instantly turned the prow of his canoe toward shore, and the others, understanding the cause, followed. A moment later, Lieutenant Canfield and the Huron stood upon terra firma. They were compelled again to shake hands all around with their curiously-made friends, when they separated—the latter to go down the river as brothers to the warlike Shawnees, and the former to go to the same destination as their deadly enemies!

[1] Meaning he became sick from some cause or other.

CHAPTER VII. THE PLAN FOR THE RESCUE.

Oft did he stoop a listening ear,
    Sweep round an anxious eye,
No bark or ax-blow could he hear,
    No human trace descry.
His sinuous path, by blazes, wound
Among trunks grouped in myriads round;
    Through naked boughs, between
Whose tangled architecture fraught
With many a shape grotesquely wrought,
    The hemlock's spire was seen.—A. B. STREET.

By this time, daylight was at hand. A thin mist, rising from the river, was passing off through the woods; for the half-hour preceding the appearance of the sun, the darkness was more palpable than it had been at any time through the night. The air, too, had a disagreeable chilliness in it, which, however little it affected the Huron, made the soldier, for the time being, exceedingly uncomfortable and impatient for the full light of day.

The Shawnee village was about a mile distant, on the same bank of the stream with that upon which our friends found themselves. As there was not the least probability of Hans Vanderbum being astir for several hours yet, they proceeded at a moderate walk through the wood. One of the peculiar effects of this chilly morning air was to keep Lieutenant Canfield constantly gaping; his movements were so languid and his mind listless even to antipathy for conversation. He maintained his place in silence beside Oonomoo. The Indian was as watchful and keen as ever.

As the young Lieutenant was yawning, and gazing around listlessly, he caught a glimpse of some body, as it threw itself prostrate behind a clump of bushes. He looked at the Huron and was startled to observe upon his countenance no indication of having noticed this singular occurrence.

"Oonomoo," he whispered, placing his hand upon his arm, "there's a person behind the bush, and we are in danger. I saw him this very minute."

"Me see'd 'em," said the Indian, walking straight toward the spot where he