The Prairie (Fiscle Part 3) Of 2 - J Fenimore Cooper (books to improve english TXT) 📗
- Author: J Fenimore Cooper
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My Visor Is Philemon's Roof; Within The House Is Jove.
--Shakspeare.
The Trapper, Who Had Meditated No Violence, Dropped His Rifle Again,
And Laughing At The Success Of His Experiment, With Great Seeming
Self-Complacency, He Drew The Astounded Gaze Of The Naturalist From
The Person Of The Savage To Himself, By Saying--
"The Imps Will Lie For Hours, Like Sleeping Alligators, Brooding Their
Deviltries In Dreams And Other Craftiness, Until Such Time As They See
Some Real Danger Is At Hand, And Then They Look To Themselves The Same
As Other Mortals. But This Is A Scouter In His War-Paint! There Should
Part 3 Chapter 18 Pg 2Be More Of His Tribe At No Great Distance. Let Us Draw The Truth Out
Of Him; For An Unlucky War-Party May Prove More Dangerous To Us Than A
Visit From The Whole Family Of The Squatter."
"It Is Truly A Desperate And A Dangerous Species!" Said The Doctor,
Relieving His Amazement By A Breath That Seemed To Exhaust His Lungs
Of Air; "A Violent Race, And One That It Is Difficult To Define Or
Class, Within The Usual Boundaries Of Definitions. Speak To Him,
Therefore; But Let Thy Words Be Strong In Amity."
The Old Man Cast A Keen Eye On Every Side Of Him, To Ascertain The
Important Particular Whether The Stranger Was Supported By Any
Associates, And Then Making The Usual Signs Of Peace, By Exhibiting
The Palm Of His Naked Hand, He Boldly Advanced. In The Mean Time, The
Indian Betrayed No Evidence Of Uneasiness. He Suffered The Trapper To
Draw Nigh, Maintaining By His Own Mien And Attitude A Striking Air Of
Dignity And Fearlessness. Perhaps The Wary Warrior Also Knew That,
Owing To The Difference In Their Weapons, He Should Be Placed More On
An Equality, By Being Brought Nearer To The Strangers.
As A Description Of This Individual May Furnish Some Idea Of The
Personal Appearance Of A Whole Race, It May Be Well To Detain The
Narrative, In Order To Present It To The Reader, In Our Hasty And
Imperfect Manner. Would The Truant Eyes Of Alston Or Greenough Turn,
But For A Time, From Their Gaze At The Models Of Antiquity, To
Contemplate This Wronged And Humbled People, Little Would Be Left For
Such Inferior Artists As Ourselves To Delineate.
The Indian In Question Was In Every Particular A Warrior Of Fine
Stature And Admirable Proportions. As He Cast Aside His Mask, Composed
Of Such Party-Coloured Leaves, As He Had Hurriedly Collected, His
Countenance Appeared In All The Gravity, The Dignity, And, It May Be
Added, In The Terror Of His Profession. The Outlines Of His Lineaments
Were Strikingly Noble, And Nearly Approaching To Roman, Though The
Secondary Features Of His Face Were Slightly Marked With The Well-
Known Traces Of His Asiatic Origin. The Peculiar Tint Of The Skin,
Which In Itself Is So Well Designed To Aid The Effect Of A Martial
Expression, Had Received An Additional Aspect Of Wild Ferocity From
The Colours Of The War-Paint. But, As If He Disdained The Usual
Artifices Of His People, He Bore None Of Those Strange And Horrid
Devices, With Which The Children Of The Forest Are Accustomed, Like
The More Civilised Heroes Of The Moustache, To Back Their Reputation
For Courage, Contenting Himself With A Broad And Deep Shadowing Of
Black, That Served As A Sufficient And An Admirable Foil To The
Brighter Gleamings Of His Native Swarthiness. His Head Was As Usual
Shaved To The Crown, Where A Large And Gallant Scalp-Lock Seemed To
Challenge The Grasp Of His Enemies. The Ornaments That Were Ordinarily
Pendant From The Cartilages Of His Ears Had Been Removed, On Account
Of His Present Pursuit. His Body, Notwithstanding The Lateness Of The
Season, Was Nearly Naked, And The Portion Which Was Clad Bore A
Vestment No Warmer Than A Light Robe Of The Finest Dressed Deer-Skin,
Beautifully Stained With The Rude Design Of Some Daring Exploit, And
Which Was Carelessly Worn, As If More In Pride Than From Any Unmanly
Regard To Comfort. His Leggings Were Of Bright Scarlet Cloth, The Only
Part 3 Chapter 18 Pg 3Evidence About His Person That He Had Held Communion With The Traders
Of The Pale-Faces. But As If To Furnish Some Offset To This Solitary
Submission To A Womanish Vanity, They Were Fearfully Fringed, From The
Gartered Knee To The Bottom Of The Moccasin, With The Hair Of Human
Scalps. He Leaned Lightly With One Hand On A Short Hickory Bow, While
The Other Rather Touched Than Sought Support, From The Long, Delicate
Handle Of An Ashen Lance. A Quiver Made Of The Cougar Skin, From Which
The Tail Of The Animal Depended, As A Characteristic Ornament, Was
Slung At His Back, And A Shield Of Hides, Quaintly Emblazoned With
Another Of His Warlike Deeds, Was Suspended From His Neck By A Thong
Of Sinews.
As The Trapper Approached, This Warrior Maintained His Calm Upright
Attitude, Discovering Neither An Eagerness To Ascertain The Character
Of Those Who Advanced Upon Him, Nor The Smallest Wish To Avoid A
Scrutiny In His Own Person. An Eye, That Was Darker And More Shining
Than That Of The Stag, Was Incessantly Glancing, However, From One To
Another Of The Stranger Party, Seemingly Never Knowing Rest For An
Instant.
"Is My Brother Far From His Village?" Demanded The Old Man, In The
Pawnee Language, After Examining The Paint, And Those Other Little
Signs By Which A Practised Eye Knows The Tribe Of The Warrior He
Encounters In The American Deserts, With The Same Readiness, And By
The Same Sort Of Mysterious Observation, As That By Which The Seaman
Knows The Distant Sail.
"It Is Farther To The Towns Of The Big-Knives," Was The Laconic Reply.
"Why Is A Pawnee-Loup So Far From The Fork Of His Own River, Without A
Horse To Journey On, And In A Spot Empty As This?"
"Can The Women And Children Of A Pale-Face Live Without The Meat Of
The Bison? There Was Hunger In My Lodge."
"My Brother Is Very Young To Be Already The Master Of A Lodge,"
Returned The Trapper, Looking Steadily Into The Unmoved Countenance Of
The Youthful Warrior; "But I Dare Say He Is Brave, And That Many A
Chief Has Offered Him His Daughters For Wives. But He Has Been
Mistaken," Pointing To The Arrow, Which Was Dangling From The Hand
That Held The Bow, "In Bringing A Loose And Barbed Arrow-Head To Kill
The Buffaloe. Do The Pawnees Wish The Wounds They Give Their Game To
Rankle?"
"It Is Good To Be Ready For The Sioux. Though Not In Sight, A Bush May
Hide Him."
"The Man Is A Living Proof Of The Truth Of His Words," Muttered The
Trapper In English, "And A Close-Jointed And Gallant Looking Lad He
Is; But Far Too Young For A Chief Of Any Importance. It Is Wise,
However, To Speak Him Fair, For A Single Arm Thrown Into Either Party,
If We Come To Blows With The Squatter And His Brood, May Turn The Day.
You See My Children Are Weary," He Continued In The Dialect Of The
Prairies, Pointing, As He Spoke, To The Rest Of The Party, Who, By
Part 3 Chapter 18 Pg 4This Time, Were Also Approaching. "We Wish To Camp And Eat. Does My
Brother Claim This Spot?"
"The Runners From The People On The Big-River, Tell Us That Your
Nation Have Traded With The Tawney-Faces Who Live Beyond The Salt-
Lake, And That The Prairies Are Now The Hunting Grounds Of The Big-
Knives!"
"It Is True, As I Hear, Also, From The Hunters And Trappers On La
Platte. Though It Is With The Frenchers, And Not With The Men Who
Claim To Own The Mexicos, That My People Have Bargained."
"And Warriors Are Going Up The Long-River, To See That They Have Not
Been Cheated, In What They Have Bought?"
"Ay, That Is Partly True, Too, I Fear; And It Will Not Be Long Before
An Accursed Band Of Choppers And Loggers Will Be Following On Their
Heels, To Humble The Wilderness Which Lies So Broad And Rich On The
Western Banks Of The Mississippi, And Then The Land Will Be A Peopled
Desert, From The Shores Of The Main Sea To The Foot Of The Rocky
Mountains; Fill'd With All The Abominations And Craft Of Man, And
Stript Of The Comforts And Loveliness It Received From The Hands Of
The Lord!"
"And Where Were The Chiefs Of The Pawnee-Loups, When This Bargain Was
Made?" Suddenly Demanded The Youthful Warrior, A Look Of Startling
Fierceness Gleaming, At The Same Instant, Athwart His Dark Visage. "Is
A Nation To Be Sold Like The Skin Of A Beaver?"
"Right Enough--Right Enough, And Where Were Truth And Honesty, Also?
But Might Is Right, According To The Fashions Of The 'Arth; And What
The Strong Choose To Do, The Weak Must Call Justice. If The Law Of The
Wahcondah Was As Much Hearkened To, Pawnee, As The Laws Of The Long-
Knives, Your Right To The Prairies Would Be As Good As That Of The
Greatest Chief In The Settlements To The House Which Covers His Head."
"The Skin Of The Traveller Is White," Said The Young Native, Laying A
Finger Impressively On The Hard And Wrinkled Hand Of The Trapper.
"Does His Heart Say One Thing And His Tongue Another?"
"The Wahcondah Of A White Man Has Ears, And He Shuts Them To A Lie.
Look At My Head; It Is Like A Frosted Pine, And Must Soon Be Laid In
The Ground. Why Then Should I Wish To Meet The Great Spirit, Face To
Face, While His Countenance Is Dark Upon Me."
The Pawnee Gracefully Threw His Shield Over One Shoulder, And Placing
A Hand On His Chest, He Bent His Head, In Deference To The Grey Locks
Exhibited By The Trapper; After Which His Eye Became More Steady, And
His Countenance Less Fierce. Still He Maintained Every Appearance Of A
Distrust And Watchfulness That Were Rather Tempered And Subdued, Than
Forgotten. When This Equivocal Species Of Amity Was Established
Between The Warrior Of The Prairies And The Experienced Old Trapper,
The Latter Proceeded To Give His Directions To Paul, Concerning The
Arrangements Of The Contemplated Halt. While Inez And Ellen Were
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