CHAPTER XXIII. THE FOREST TRAGEDY .... 215
HEN at last the party had got comfortably settled around the cheerful camp-fire, Rob asked :
" Are those mounds up near the Devil's Den the graves of white people, Woodranger ? "
" One is and one isn't, lad, though I reckon the good angel has writ out'their records alike. Them graves were made for an Indian maid and her white lover. It was one o' them 'fairs with which these parts be all writ over."
"So there is a story, Woodranger," said the four boys, in a chorus. " You must tell it to us."
" Mebbe it will while away a few minutes, and if you'll pile a leetle more bresh on the fire, I'll tell you the sad story o' Princess Avawanda.
"Among the first white settlers in this vicinity was a Frenchman by the name o' Le Roche. He built him a cabin six or eight miles, as the crow flies, to the east o' this place. His wife came with him, and a son about one and twenty.
"This youngster, whose name I disremember, was fond o' the chase, which shows to me that he was above dissembling. I opine he was a likely lad. During one o' his perambulations o' the woods he run 'pon a deer. It was just above here, and, heedless o' any harm from it, he shot the varmint. Scarcely had it toppled over before half a dozen reds leaped out o' their ambushment and caught him as fast as a fish in a net. He was taken to their camp on a goodish sized stream which flows into the pond.
" The youngster, Le Roche, was knowing to leetle o' Indian warfare, but he supposed the reds weren't on the warpath at that time. So they weren't, but this was their fishing and hunting grounds, and, 'cording to their idee, the deer hereabouts belonged to 'em. But the older warriors seemed to persuade the younger into the belief that it was best to let the young man off, on the expectation that he would do better. Not understanding a word o' that which was said to him, the youngster was 'lowed to depart in peace, though he was not given back his gun.
"Joyed to get off so easy, he didn't mind his loss, but when he come along hereabouts, he was overtaken by the chief's daughter, Avawanda, who had brought his gun. She told in that tongue which he did not understand that he must leave that corner at once. She told him some o' the warriors were ill-pleased with 'lowing him his liberty. More by her gestures than her words, she made him realise the risk she had run in coming to him, and the danger o' his situation. She had seen him during the council o' her race, and in the manner o' a woman's way her heart had gone out to him. I don't say she told him as much as this, though it was an Indian's way.
"The youngster went boldly on his way, but he hadn't gone twenty yards afore some arrows whistled around his head, and two reds leaped in front o' him flourishing their tomahawks and howling like wolves.
" Though taken unawares, the youngster killed the foremost, and engaged in a hand-to-hand grapple with the other. It must have been a tough battle, for at last, when the Indian girl, attracted by the cries and struggles, reached the spot, both lay as if dead.
" In the short time she had known the young Frenchman he had awakened a strong passion in her breast for him, and she bent tenderly over him to see if there was any sign o' life left. After a hasty examination, she was joyed to find that he lived. But it would be impossible for him to reach home. Not daring to leave him there, she carried his well-nigh lifeless body to the cave. Laying it down on a bed o' leaves, she started for his home, to tell his father what she had done.
" It was a bolder amazement than she knew in going to the youngster's father with the story of his adventure, but she was honest and fearless, as the innocent ever are. When Le Roche heard o' the fate o' his boy, at first he could ne'er believe it. But Avawanda seemed honest, though he swore she should die if she had deceived him. Poor child ! As if she had not risked enough in going there to him. Should her father l'arn o' it, he would put her to death at once. But Le Roche got two or three friends to go with him, and started for this place, under the lead o' the girl.
" Pon getting here, the wounded youngster was not to be found. Sartin, then, that Avawanda had led him into a trap, Le Roche swore he would kill her. She fled for her life, and he and his companions follered her.
" Their anger making them resky, the leetle party crept down to the Indian village. There they see the boy a captive, and undergoing a course o' torture. It seemed the reds had found him at the cave while Avawanda was gone, and, knowing he'd killed two o' their number, set about avenging their deaths. Maddened by the sight, Le Roche called upon his friends to attack 'em with him.
" A bloody fight must have followed, though none o' the whites were killed. But do his best, Le Roche did not manage to bear off his son, who somehow was lost in the scramble. At last, having killed three o' the reds, and his companions being so hard hit they could do no more fighting, the Frenchman was fain to get away.
" He was coming up the path just below here, when he was surprised to see the Indian girl coming toward the cave, with his boy's body in her arms. Without stopping to think that she might have resked her life to save his son, and. was then trying to get him away from his enemies, though they were her kin, Le Roche could think only o' treachery. Believing she was trying to hide his body, he shot her dead with her loved one in her arms.
" Upon reaching the side o' his boy, he found that the same bullet o' his which had taken Avawanda's life had given him his death-wound ! The youngster lived long enough to tell his father that she had saved him from 'the torture, and was bearing him to that place until she could find some way to get him home. " ' She died for me, father ! and the same bullet has cost me my life, for otherwise I might have got well. I have one favour to ask. Bury us here side by side.'
"The grief-stricken father could promise nothing less, and so you see their graves here on this little hill, within sight of the beautiful sheet o' water Avawanda loved so well. The granite walls o' the hillside, which were silent witnesses o' that day's awful work, guard through the long years their lonely rest. But don't let the sad story rob you o' your evening's enj'yment. How beautiful old Massabesic looks under the starry eyes o' the night. So your gun is getting to be onsartain, Zack. Is as glum as a beetle when you want it to talk, and pops off in the most onreasonable way when it should hold its tongue, eh ? "
By this time Bitlock had got his clothes pretty well dried, and he had also got into a more amiable frame of mind, so it was a free and cheerful group gathered there under the pines amid the solitude of the forest. For a long time the six talked about the topics interesting them most, the Woodranger filling in the waste places of conversation with many incidents of his checkered life, until at last he signified that it was time to seek rest.
Scraping a few leaves together, and selecting a moss-covered stone for a pillow, he stretched his stalwart figure at full length on his primitive couch. In a brief time he sank into a child-like slumber, a smile, now and then, hovering over his bronzed and bearded countenance, as if some sweet vision of happy days gone by had flitted through his dreams. Bitlock was soon snoring loudly close by the fire. Norman and the other boys gladly lay down on their simple beds of leaves and boughs, covered with their skin robes, and were soon enjoying their well-earned rest.
| W |
HEN at last the party had got comfortably settled around the cheerful camp-fire, Rob asked :
" Are those mounds up near the Devil's Den the graves of white people, Woodranger ? "
" One is and one isn't, lad, though I reckon the good angel has writ out'their records alike. Them graves were made for an Indian maid and her white lover. It was one o' them 'fairs with which these parts be all writ over."
"So there is a story, Woodranger," said the four boys, in a chorus. " You must tell it to us."
" Mebbe it will while away a few minutes, and if you'll pile a leetle more bresh on the fire, I'll tell you the sad story o' Princess Avawanda.
"Among the first white settlers in this vicinity was a Frenchman by the name o' Le Roche. He built him a cabin six or eight miles, as the crow flies, to the east o' this place. His wife came with him, and a son about one and twenty.
"This youngster, whose name I disremember, was fond o' the chase, which shows to me that he was above dissembling. I opine he was a likely lad. During one o' his perambulations o' the woods he run 'pon a deer. It was just above here, and, heedless o' any harm from it, he shot the varmint. Scarcely had it toppled over before half a dozen reds leaped out o' their ambushment and caught him as fast as a fish in a net. He was taken to their camp on a goodish sized stream which flows into the pond.
" The youngster, Le Roche, was knowing to leetle o' Indian warfare, but he supposed the reds weren't on the warpath at that time. So they weren't, but this was their fishing and hunting grounds, and, 'cording to their idee, the deer hereabouts belonged to 'em. But the older warriors seemed to persuade the younger into the belief that it was best to let the young man off, on the expectation that he would do better. Not understanding a word o' that which was said to him, the youngster was 'lowed to depart in peace, though he was not given back his gun.
"Joyed to get off so easy, he didn't mind his loss, but when he come along hereabouts, he was overtaken by the chief's daughter, Avawanda, who had brought his gun. She told in that tongue which he did not understand that he must leave that corner at once. She told him some o' the warriors were ill-pleased with 'lowing him his liberty. More by her gestures than her words, she made him realise the risk she had run in coming to him, and the danger o' his situation. She had seen him during the council o' her race, and in the manner o' a woman's way her heart had gone out to him. I don't say she told him as much as this, though it was an Indian's way.
"The youngster went boldly on his way, but he hadn't gone twenty yards afore some arrows whistled around his head, and two reds leaped in front o' him flourishing their tomahawks and howling like wolves.
" Though taken unawares, the youngster killed the foremost, and engaged in a hand-to-hand grapple with the other. It must have been a tough battle, for at last, when the Indian girl, attracted by the cries and struggles, reached the spot, both lay as if dead.
" In the short time she had known the young Frenchman he had awakened a strong passion in her breast for him, and she bent tenderly over him to see if there was any sign o' life left. After a hasty examination, she was joyed to find that he lived. But it would be impossible for him to reach home. Not daring to leave him there, she carried his well-nigh lifeless body to the cave. Laying it down on a bed o' leaves, she started for his home, to tell his father what she had done.
" It was a bolder amazement than she knew in going to the youngster's father with the story of his adventure, but she was honest and fearless, as the innocent ever are. When Le Roche heard o' the fate o' his boy, at first he could ne'er believe it. But Avawanda seemed honest, though he swore she should die if she had deceived him. Poor child ! As if she had not risked enough in going there to him. Should her father l'arn o' it, he would put her to death at once. But Le Roche got two or three friends to go with him, and started for this place, under the lead o' the girl.
" Pon getting here, the wounded youngster was not to be found. Sartin, then, that Avawanda had led him into a trap, Le Roche swore he would kill her. She fled for her life, and he and his companions follered her.
" Their anger making them resky, the leetle party crept down to the Indian village. There they see the boy a captive, and undergoing a course o' torture. It seemed the reds had found him at the cave while Avawanda was gone, and, knowing he'd killed two o' their number, set about avenging their deaths. Maddened by the sight, Le Roche called upon his friends to attack 'em with him.
" A bloody fight must have followed, though none o' the whites were killed. But do his best, Le Roche did not manage to bear off his son, who somehow was lost in the scramble. At last, having killed three o' the reds, and his companions being so hard hit they could do no more fighting, the Frenchman was fain to get away.
" He was coming up the path just below here, when he was surprised to see the Indian girl coming toward the cave, with his boy's body in her arms. Without stopping to think that she might have resked her life to save his son, and. was then trying to get him away from his enemies, though they were her kin, Le Roche could think only o' treachery. Believing she was trying to hide his body, he shot her dead with her loved one in her arms.
" Upon reaching the side o' his boy, he found that the same bullet o' his which had taken Avawanda's life had given him his death-wound ! The youngster lived long enough to tell his father that she had saved him from 'the torture, and was bearing him to that place until she could find some way to get him home. " ' She died for me, father ! and the same bullet has cost me my life, for otherwise I might have got well. I have one favour to ask. Bury us here side by side.'
"The grief-stricken father could promise nothing less, and so you see their graves here on this little hill, within sight of the beautiful sheet o' water Avawanda loved so well. The granite walls o' the hillside, which were silent witnesses o' that day's awful work, guard through the long years their lonely rest. But don't let the sad story rob you o' your evening's enj'yment. How beautiful old Massabesic looks under the starry eyes o' the night. So your gun is getting to be onsartain, Zack. Is as glum as a beetle when you want it to talk, and pops off in the most onreasonable way when it should hold its tongue, eh ? "
By this time Bitlock had got his clothes pretty well dried, and he had also got into a more amiable frame of mind, so it was a free and cheerful group gathered there under the pines amid the solitude of the forest. For a long time the six talked about the topics interesting them most, the Woodranger filling in the waste places of conversation with many incidents of his checkered life, until at last he signified that it was time to seek rest.
Scraping a few leaves together, and selecting a moss-covered stone for a pillow, he stretched his stalwart figure at full length on his primitive couch. In a brief time he sank into a child-like slumber, a smile, now and then, hovering over his bronzed and bearded countenance, as if some sweet vision of happy days gone by had flitted through his dreams. Bitlock was soon snoring loudly close by the fire. Norman and the other boys gladly lay down on their simple beds of leaves and boughs, covered with their skin robes, and were soon enjoying their well-earned rest.
posted by Don at 8:40 AM
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