Oonomoo the Huron by Edward Sylvester Ellis (digital e reader .txt) 📖

purpose. As the line of the pieces of bark pointed directly toward these, there was but little doubt that here they were launched upon the water.

"It can't be dat Quanonshet and Madokawandock is dere," mused Hans Vanderbum, "for to try to worry deir poor old fader. Dey're too big Dutchmen to build such boats, and dey wouldn't know how to make 'em float under me if dey did. No; dere's somebody out on dat tree, and he's doing it to make me look up at him. I'm looking but I can't see notting."

He shaded his eyes as he spoke, and looked long and searchingly at the tree, but for a considerable time could discover nothing unusual about it. At length, however, he fancied that he saw one of the limbs sway gently backward and forward in a manner that could hardly be caused by the wind. Gradually it began to dawn upon him that if there was any person upon the tree, he meant that his presence should not be suspected by the Shawnees along the bank. Accordingly Hans Vanderbum was more circumspect in his observations.

Still watching the tree, he soon discovered something else that he thought was meant to attract his eye. The water directly beneath it flashed and sparkled as if it was disturbed by some object. Straining his gaze, he finally discerned what appeared to be a human hand swaying backward and forward.

"Dat is enough!" thought Hans Vanderbum. "Dere's somebody dere dat wants to see me, and is afeard of dese oder chaps about, so I goes to him."

Working his way cautiously backward, he reached the land and started apparently to return to his wigwam. As he did so, he looked at the Shawnees and was gratified to see that their suspicions had not been aroused by his movements. Proceeding some distance, he hid his fish and line and made his way up the river, escaping the Shawnees by means of a long _detour_.

Reaching the stream and tree, he was somewhat taken aback by not finding any one at all. Considerably perplexed, he looked about him.

"Can't be dat Quanonshet and Madokawandock have been fooling deir poor old fader again," said he. "I'm purty sure I seen some one on the tree, when dem pieces of bark come swimming downstream."

A subdued whistle reached his ear. Looking behind him, he saw a Huron Indian standing a few yards away. The eyes of both lit up as they encountered the gaze of each other, for they were both friends and old acquaintances.

"Ish dat you, Oonomoo?" inquired Hans Vanderbum.

"Yeh--me--Oonomoo," replied the Indian, pronouncing his name somewhat differently from the Dutchman, (and from that by which we have before referred to him).

"Was dat you on de tree out dere?"

"Yeh, me--Oonomoo out dere on log."

"And did you make dem pieces of bark to come swimming down by me?"

"Yeh, me made 'em."

"And shtirred de water wid yer hand and moved de limb?"

"Yeh, Oonomoo do all dat."

"I shpose you wanted to see me?"

"Yeh, wanted to see you--want talk wid you," said the Huron, motioning for Hans to follow him. The latter did not hesitate to do so, as he had perfect faith in his honesty, knowing much of his history. The savage led the way some distance into the woods, where they were not likely to be seen or overheard, and then stopped and confronted his companion.

"Where'd you come from, Oonomoo?" asked the latter.

"From fightin' de Shawnees," replied the savage, proudly.

"Yaw, I sees yer am in de war-paint. Did you get many?"

"The lodge of Oonomoo is full of the scalps of the cowardly Shawnees, taken many moons ago," answered the Huron, his eyes flashing fire and his breast heaving at the remembrance of his exploits. This reply was made in the Shawnee language, as he spoke it as well as one of their warriors; and, as Hans also understood it, the conversation was now carried on in that tongue.

"When did you see Annie Stanton last?" inquired the Dutchman, showing considerable interest.

"Several moons ago, when the sun was in the woods and the waters were asleep."

"Is her husband, that rascally Ferrington, living?"

Oonomoo replied that he was.

"And is their baby, too?"

"Yes, they have two pappooses."

"Dunder and blixen!" exclaimed Hans Vanderbum, and then resuming the English language, or rather his version of it, he added:

"Dat gal wanted to marry mit me once."

"Why no marry den?" inquired Oonomoo, also coming back to the more difficult language.

"She wan't te right kind of a gal--she wan't like my Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, dat is de same shape all de way down from her head to her heels. So I let dat Ferrington have her."

The Huron, who understood all about that matter, indulged in a broad smile at this remark. Whatever his business was, it was manifest he was in no hurry, else he would not have indulged in this by-play of words with his friend.

"You doesn't t'ink de baby will dies, does you?"

"No--in de settlement--Shawnee can't git her now--don't live off in de woods like as dey did afore."

"Dat's lucky for her; don't t'ink dey will get her there, 'cause dey tried it once--dat time, you remember, when we was all in de HUNTER'S CABIN in de woods, and you came down de chimney, and I watched and kept de Shawnee off."

The Huron signified that he remembered the circumstance well.

"Dem was great times," added Hans Vanderbum, calling up the recollection of them. "I left de village one hot afternoon, and walked all de way t'rough de woods to get to de cabin to help dem poor folks. We had mighty hard times. I catched a cold and couldn't shtop my dunderin' nose one night when it wanted to shneeze, and dat's de way de Shawnee catched me. Twan't so bad arter all," added Hans Vanderbum, musingly, "'cause if it wasn't for dat I wouldn't got my Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock."

"How soon go back?" asked Oonomoo.

"To de village, do you mean?"

"Yeh."

"Any time afore noon will does, so Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock gits de fish for our dinner."

"One, two hours," said the Huron, looking up at the sky, "den sun git dere," pointing to the zenith. "Shawnees know here?"

"Know me here? Guesses not; don't care if dey does, nor dey doesn't care neider."

"Shawnees won't come here?"

"No, no, Oonomoo, you needn't be afraid--"

"Afraid who?" demanded the Huron, with quick fierceness. "Oonomoo never run afore one--two--t'ree--dozen Shawnees. He only runs when dey comes like de leaves in de woods."

"Dey won't come like de leaves. If dey does, why you can leave too, and I t'inks you know how to use dem legs dat you've got tacked onto you. I t'inks you run as fast as me."

"So I t'inks," replied the Indian, with a grin.

"Dere's no mistake but dem Shawnees would like to get your scalp, Oonomoo."

"Two--t'ree--hundreds--all Shawnees like to git Oonomoo's scalp--nebber git him--Oonomee die in his lodge--scalp on his head," said the Huron, proudly.

"I hopes so; hopes I will, too."

The expression of the Indian's face was changed. It assumed a dark, earnest appearance. He was done trifling, and wished to commence business.

"See her dis mornin'?" he asked, in short, quick tones.

"See who?" asked Hans Vanderbum, in turn, completely at a loss to understand him.

"De gal."

"De gal? Who you talking about--Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock?"

"De gal Shawnees got in de village."

The Dutchman's blank expression showed that he did not comprehend what the Huron was referring to; so he added, by way of explanation:

"Shawnees kill women and children--deir warriors squaws--don't fight men--burn houses toder day--run off wid gal--got her now in de village--she gal of Oonomoo's friend--Oonomoo want to get her."

From these rather disconnected expressions, Hans Vanderbum understood that a war-party of Shawnees had brought in a prisoner who was a friend of the Huron's. It was for the purpose of learning something regarding her that he had signaled the fisherman to leave his hook and line and come to him. The captive having reached the village quite recently, he had failed to be apprised of it, so that Oonomoo learned no more than he already knew regarding her.

"When did dey took her?" asked Hans Vanderbum.

"When sun dere, yisterday," replied the Indian, pointing off in the western horizon.

"Do you want to know 'bout her?"

"Yeh."

"Den I goes find out."

So saying, Hans Vanderbum strode away through the forest in the direction of the Shawnee village.


CHAPTER II.

OTHER CHARACTERS.

"He joys to scour the prairies wide,
Upon the bison's trail;
To pierce his dark and shaggy hide
With darts that never fail.

"His is the lion's strength in war,
In peace, the lion's rest;
And the eagle hath not flown so far
As his fame throughout the West."

Upon leaving the Huron, Hans Vanderbum hurried toward the village, as rapidly as the peculiar structure of his body would allow. As has been remarked, he was well acquainted with Oonomoo, knowing him to be a faithful ally of his race. He was anxious, therefore, to show his friendship to the savage. Down, too, somewhere in the huge heart of the plethoric Dutchman, was a kindly feeling for the distress of a human being, and he felt willing and anxious to befriend any hapless captive that had fallen into the hands of the relentless Shawnees.

So absorbed was he in meditating, that he took no heed of his footsteps until he was suddenly confronted by his spouse, Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, who, flourishing a sort of hoe over his head, demanded, or rather screeched:

"Where's your fish?"

Hans Vanderbum winked very rapidly, and putting his hands up over his head, as if to protect it, "I forgots all about dem. I goes right back and gots dem."

He wheeled around as he spoke, receiving a resounding whack from the hoe, by way of a reminder, and went lumbering through the woods in search of his basket of fish. He experienced little difficulty in finding it, and in a few moments was back again to his affectionate partner.

"How did you get wet?" she asked, looking at his flapping garments.

"Dem little Dutchmen done it; dey fixed de limb and made it proke and let me down in de water and almost drownded. Quanonshet and Madokawandock will be de death of deir poor dad."

The wife vouchsafed no reply, but jerking the fish from his hand, entered the wigwam for the purpose of cooking them, while Hans Vanderbum himself went lounging on through the village, it being his purpose not to seem too anxious and hurried in his effort to gain his news regarding the captive. He was, despite his stupidity, not devoid of sagacity at times.

He had not long to search. In the very center of the town, his eyes fell upon a promiscuous crowd collected around a wigwam, gazing at something