Elkswatawa : $b or, The prophet of the west. A tale of the frontierFrench, James Strange
General
Elkswatawa : $b or, The prophet of the west. A tale of the frontier
French, James Strange
Tippecanoe, Battle of, Ind., 1811 -- Fiction
The remark was not heard by the maiden, and Oloompa made no reply; for
at that moment, a warrior was seen passing along, and summoning the
red men again to council. No sooner was the glad call heard, than
there was hurrying past to the place of meeting. Oloompa kept his eyes
upon the maiden, as she now stood looking upon the town, and started
forward apparently as if he designed to follow the crowd. The warrior
on duty was relieved, his time having expired, and forgetting to
mention that a prisoner was absent, he hurried away to the council.
Oloompa, passing by where the captive stood, whispered to her to
follow him, and moved slowly on in the direction in which all seemed
hurrying. When he had gotten without sight of the cabin he left, and
found that most of the crowd had passed him, he stopped, and pointing
out a small path to the maiden, told her to follow it to the walls of
the town, where he would meet her. He then passed on to the council,
and, remaining only for an instant, proceeded by a circuitous route,
to the place designated. The captive maiden awaited him, and upon his
arrival, ran forward to express her gratitude. Oloompa motioned her to
be silent, and assisting her out of the camp, they proceeded to the
spot where he had left the hunters. Upon nearing it, a hoarse voice
cried out, “who comes there?” and the barrel of a rifle was seen to
gleam in the moonlight.
“Oloompa and the captive maiden,” was the answer.
Rolfe rushed forward, but drew back when he beheld the figure before
him.
The captive maiden cried, “Richard! it is Gay!—it is Gay, though she
seems not to be;” and in an instant more she was clasped to the bosom
of Rolfe.
A few moments passed:—the first wild burst of feeling consequent upon
their meeting had scarcely subsided, when Rolfe, calling her attention
to Earth, told her that he was the friend to whom she owed so much,
and bade her thank him. “A thousand, thousand thanks!” she cried,
extending her hand to Earth. “They are a poor offering for so much
service, yet they are all that Gay now has to give.”
Earth was much affected, and replied not to her, but turning to Rolfe,
said,—“Rolfe, I wish you had not told her any thing about thanking me;
you know that to make a friend happy, is as much as Earth ever
desires.”
“Hunters,” cried Oloompa, who, since he delivered up Gay, had been
quietly looking on, “listen;—the hour has now come,—we have travelled
a long path to its end,—we part for ever.”
“Noble, noble Oloompa!” cried Rolfe, cordially grasping his hand, “oh!
say not so; come, love us, and dwell with us, and let us be friends.
All that the white man has, shall be yours.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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