The Prairie (Fiscle Part 3) Of 2 - J Fenimore Cooper (books to improve english TXT) 📗

He Was To Be Sustained,  Man For Man,  Even To The Extent Of

His Whole Force. These Generous Orders Were Strictly Obeyed; And

Though So Many Hearts In The Troop Panted To Share In The Glory And

Danger Of Their Partisan,  Not A Warrior Was Found,  Among Them All,  Who

Did Not Know How To Conceal His Impatience Under The Usual Mask Of

Indian Self-Restraint. They Watched The Issue With Quick And Jealous

Eyes,  Nor Did A Single Exclamation Of Surprise Escape Them,  When They

Saw,  As Will Soon Be Apparent,  That The Experiment Of Their Chief Was

As Likely To Conduce To Peace As To War.

 

Mahtoree Was Not Long In Communicating His Plans To His Confidants,

Whom He As Quickly Dismissed To Join Their Fellows In The Rear. The

Teton Entered A Short Distance Into The Stream And Halted. Here He

Raised His Hand Several Times,  With The Palm Outwards,  And Made

Several Of Those Other Signs,  Which Are Construed Into A Pledge Of

Amicable Intentions Among The Inhabitants Of Those Regions. Then,  As

If To Confirm The Sincerity Of His Faith,  He Cast His Fusee To The

Shore,  And Entered Deeper Into The Water,  Where He Again Came To A

Stand,  In Order To See In What Manner The Pawnee Would Receive His

Pledges Of Peace.

 

The Crafty Sioux Had Not Made His Calculations On The Noble And Honest

Nature Of His More Youthful Rival In Vain. Hard-Heart Had Continued

Galloping Across The Sands,  During The Discharge Of Missiles And The

Appearance Of A General Onset,  With The Same Proud And Confident Mien,

As That With Which He Had First Braved The Danger. When He Saw The

Well-Known Person Of The Teton Partisan Enter The River,  He Waved His

Hand In Triumph,  And Flourishing His Lance,  He Raised The Thrilling

War-Cry Of His People,  As A Challenge For Him To Come On. But When He

Saw The Signs Of A Truce,  Though Deeply Practised In The Treachery Of

Savage Combats,  He Disdained To Show A Less Manly Reliance On Himself,

Than That Which His Enemy Had Seen Fit To Exhibit. Riding To The

Farthest Extremity Of The Sands,  He Cast His Own Fusee From Him,  And

Returned To The Point Whence He Had Started.

 

The Two Chiefs Were Now Armed Alike. Each Had His Spear,  His Bow,  His

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Quiver,  His Little Battle-Axe,  And His Knife; And Each Had,  Also,  A

Shield Of Hides,  Which Might Serve As A Means Of Defence Against A

Surprise From Any Of These Weapons. The Sioux No Longer Hesitated,  But

Advanced Deeper Into The Stream,  And Soon Landed On A Point Of The

Island Which His Courteous Adversary Had Left Free For That Purpose.

Had One Been There To Watch The Countenance Of Mahtoree,  As He Crossed

The Water That Separated Him From The Most Formidable And The Most

Hated Of All His Rivals,  He Might Have Fancied That He Could Trace The

Gleamings Of A Secret Joy,  Breaking Through The Cloud Which Deep

Cunning And Heartless Treachery Had Drawn Before His Swarthy Visage;

And Yet There Would Have Been Moments,  When He Might Have Believed

That The Flashings Of The Teton's Eye And The Expansion Of His

Nostrils,  Had Their Origin In A Nobler Sentiment,  And One More Worthy

Of An Indian Chief.

 

The Pawnee Awaited The Time Of His Enemy With Calmness And Dignity.

The Teton Made A Short Run Or Two,  To Curb The Impatience Of His

Steed,  And To Recover His Seat After The Effort Of Crossing,  And Then

He Rode Into The Centre Of The Place,  And Invited The Other,  By A

Courteous Gesture,  To Approach. Hard-Heart Drew Nigh,  Until He Found

Himself At A Distance Equally Suited To Advance Or To Retreat,  And,  In

His Turn,  He Came To A Stand,  Keeping His Glowing Eye Riveted On That

Of His Enemy. A Long And Grave Pause Succeeded This Movement,  During

Which These Two Distinguished Braves,  Who Were Now,  For The First

Time,  Confronted,  With Arms In Their Hands,  Sat Regarding Each Other,

Like Warriors Who Knew How To Value The Merits Of A Gallant Foe,

However Hated. But The Mien Of Mahtoree Was Far Less Stern And Warlike

Than That Of The Partisan Of The Loups. Throwing His Shield Over His

Shoulder,  As If To Invite The Confidence Of The Other,  He Made A

Gesture Of Salutation And Was The First To Speak.

 

"Let The Pawnees Go Upon The Hills," He Said,  "And Look From The

Morning To The Evening Sun,  From The Country Of Snows To The Land Of

Many Flowers,  And They Will See That The Earth Is Very Large. Why

Cannot The Red-Men Find Room On It For All Their Villages?"

 

"Has The Teton Ever Known A Warrior Of The Loups Come To His Towns To

Beg A Place For His Lodge?" Returned The Young Brave,  With A Look In

Which Pride And Contempt Were Not Attempted To Be Concealed,  "When The

Pawnees Hunt,  Do They Send Runners To Ask Mahtoree If There Are No

Siouxes On The Prairies?"

 

"When There Is Hunger In The Lodge Of A Warrior,  He Looks For The

Buffaloe,  Which Is Given Him For Food," The Teton Continued,

Struggling To Keep Down The Ire Excited By The Other's Scorn. "The

Wahcondah Has Made More Of Them Than He Has Made Indians. He Has Not

Said,  This Buffaloe Shall Be For A Pawnee,  And That For A Dahcotah;

This Beaver For Konza,  And That For An Omawhaw. No; He Said,  There Are

Enough. I Love My Red Children,  And I Have Given Them Great Riches.

The Swiftest Horse Shall Not Go From The Village Of The Tetons To The

Village Of The Loups In Many Suns. It Is Far From The Towns Of The

Pawnees To The River Of The Osages. There Is Room For All That I Love.

Why Then Should A Red-Man Strike His Brother?"

 

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Hard-Heart Dropped One End Of His Lance To The Earth,  And Having Also

Cast His Shield Across His Shoulder,  He Sat Leaning Lightly On The

Weapon,  As He Answered With A Smile Of No Doubtful Expression--

 

"Are The Tetons Weary Of The Hunts,  And Of The Warpath? Do They Wish

To Cook The Venison,  And Not To Kill It. Do They Intend To Let The

Hair Cover Their Heads,  That Their Enemies Shall Not Know Where To

Find Their Scalps? Go; A Pawnee Warrior Will Never Come Among Such

Sioux Squaws For A Wife!"

 

A Frightful Gleam Of Ferocity Broke Out Of The Restraint Of The

Dahcotah's Countenance,  As He Listened To This Biting Insult; But He

Was Quick In Subduing The Tell-Tale Feeling,  In An Expression Much

Better Suited To His Present Purpose.

 

"This Is The Way A Young Chief Should Talk Of War," He Answered With

Singular Composure; "But Mahtoree Has Seen The Misery Of More Winters

Than His Brother. When The Nights Have Been Long,  And Darkness Has

Been In His Lodge,  While The Young Men Slept,  He Has Thought Of The

Hardships Of His People. He Has Said To Himself,  Teton,  Count The

Scalps In Your Smoke. They Are All Red But Two! Does The Wolf Destroy

The Wolf,  Or The Rattler Strike His Brother? You Know They Do Not;

Therefore,  Teton,  Are You Wrong To Go On A Path That Leads To The

Village Of A Red-Skin,  With A Tomahawk In Your Hand."

 

"The Sioux Would Rob The Warrior Of His Fame? He Would Say To His

Young Men,  Go,  Dig Roots In The Prairies,  And Find Holes To Bury Your

Tomahawks In; You Are No Longer Braves!"

 

"If The Tongue Of Mahtoree Ever Says Thus," Returned The Crafty Chief,

With An Appearance Of Strong Indignation,  "Let His Women Cut It Out,

And Burn It With The Offals Of The Buffaloe. No," He Added,  Advancing

A Few Feet Nigher To The Immovable Hard-Heart,  As If In The Sincerity

Of Confidence; "The Red-Man Can Never Want An Enemy: They Are Plentier

Than The Leaves On The Trees,  The Birds In The Heavens,  Or The

Buffaloes On The Prairies. Let My Brother Open His Eyes Wide: Does He

No Where See An Enemy He Would Strike?"

 

"How Long Is It Since The Teton Counted The Scalps Of His Warriors,

That Were Drying In The Smoke Of A Pawnee Lodge? The Hand That Took

Them Is Here,  And Ready To Make Eighteen,  Twenty."

 

"Now,  Let Not The Mind Of My Brother Go On A Crooked Path. If A Red-

Skin Strikes A Red-Skin For Ever,  Who Will Be Masters Of The Prairies,

When No Warriors Are Left To Say,  'They Are Mine?' Hear The Voices Of

The Old Men. They Tell Us That In Their Days Many Indians Have Come

Out Of The Woods Under The Rising Sun,  And That They Have Filled The

Prairies With Their Complaints Of The Robberies Of The Long-Knives.

Where A Pale-Face Comes,  A Red-Man Cannot Stay. The Land Is Too Small.

They Are Always Hungry. See,  They Are Here Already!"

 

As The Teton Spoke,  He Pointed Towards The Tents Of Ishmael,  Which

Were In Plain Sight,  And Then He Paused,  To Await The Effect Of His

Words On The Mind Of His Ingenuous Foe. Hard-Heart Listened Like One

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In Whom A Train Of Novel Ideas Had Been Excited By The Reasoning Of

The Other. He Mused For A Minute Before He Demanded--

 

"What Do The Wise Chiefs Of The Sioux Say Must Be Done?"

 

"They Think That The Moccasin Of Every Pale-Face Should Be Followed,

Like The Track Of The Bear. That The Long-Knife,  Who Comes Upon The

Prairie,  Should Never Go Back. That The Path Shall Be Open To Those

Who Come,  And Shut To Those Who Go. Yonder Are Many. They Have Horses

And Guns. They Are Rich,  But We Are Poor. Will The Pawnees Meet The

Tetons In Council? And When The Sun Is Gone Behind The Rocky

Mountains,  They Will Say,  This Is For A Loup And This For A Sioux."

 

"Teton--No! Hard-Heart Has Never Struck The Stranger. They Come Into

His Lodge And Eat,  And They Go Out In Safety. A Mighty Chief Is Their

Friend! When My People Call The Young Men To Go On The War-Path,  The

Moccasin Of Hard-Heart Is The Last. But His Village Is No Sooner Hid

By The Trees,  Than It Is The First. No,  Teton; His Arm Will Never Be

Lifted Against The Stranger."

 

"Fool; Die,  With Empty Hands!" Mahtoree Exclaimed,  Setting An Arrow To

His Bow,