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
“Then say, Earth,” said Rolfe, “what shall we do? shall we take
Oloompa's advice, and hurry away, or seek safety within the American
camp.”
“Rolfe,” said Earth, “I can't hurry away, that is out of the question;
I don't believe I could leave a chance like this, to save my life; and
yet I hardly know what to do. Oloompa has behaved nobly; I didn't
think it was in a red skin.”
“Oh! that he has,” cried Gay, “and so has Miskwa and Netnokwa; who
could have been kinder?”
“Well,” continued Earth, “as I was going to say, he has told us what
he thinks best, and he has his reasons for telling us what he did.
Now, you can see from the fact that the whites are encamped so near to
their town, that the Prophet is amusing them with professions of
peace. If that was not the case, you know, that as they came all the
way here to punish the Ingens for their late doings, they would have
attacked them at once. From Oloompa's hint, the Ingens may intend to
strike a blow to-night, but they can't do any thing; the whites must
beat 'em if they have a fight, for, you may be certain, General
Harrison would never have come so far upon their lands without men
enough to answer his purpose. My notion, therefore, is, that if we
could once get within the camp, we should be safe. But, Rolfe, I don't
like their large fires, we can see every thing that's going on in the
camp. Look in the Ingen town; they are too keen for that.”
“Then, Earth,” said Rolfe, “if there is a doubt, had we not better
seek safety in flight?”
“Rolfe,” answered Earth, “that will not do. If I was to run off now,
and the Ingens and whites were to take a brush, I don't think I should
ever git over it, as long as I lived.”
“Well, Earth, you may take a brush or not, as you please, but I am
determined to adopt some plan for our safety.”
“Rolfe,” replied Earth, “you are getting mighty independent all at
once; I didn't say that I was so run mad for a fight, as you seem to
think, that I would take a brush whether any body else did or not. I
merely meant that if they went at it, I should like to go snacks;—and,
I say agin, if they were to do it, and I didn't have a hand, it would
go with me to my grave. I don't believe I should ever hold my head up
agin as long as I lived. But I am just as much determined to see this
lady safe as you are.”
“Then, good sir,” said Gay, addressing Earth, “please let us fly, and
you go with us; then we shall all be safe.”
“Lady,” answered Earth, “we cannot fly, for old Juno is as stiff as if
he had the rheumatics, and all we could do, would be to move on in a
short trot.”
His remark was perfectly unintelligible to Gay, and turning to Rolfe,
she said, “tell me, what does he mean, Richard?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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