American fiction -- 19th century; Historical fiction; Indians of North America -- Fiction
“No man can say that,” answered Parson Amen. “Unless my people had come
to this continent, the word of God could not have been preached by
me, along the shores of these lakes. But I will now speak of our great
tradition. The Great Spirit divided mankind into nations and tribes.
When this was done, he picked out one for his chosen people. The
pale-faces call that favorite, and for a long time much-favored people,
Jews. The Manitou led them through a wilderness, and even through a salt
lake, until they reached a promised land, where he permitted them to
live for many hundred winters. A great triumph was to come out of that
people--the triumphs of truth and of the law, over sin and death. In the
course of time--”
Here a young chief rose, made a sign of caution, and crossing the circle
rapidly, disappeared by the passage through which the rill flowed.
In about a minute he returned, showing the way into the centre of the
council to one whom all present immediately recognized as a runner, by
his dress and equipments. Important news was at hand; yet not a man of
all that crowd either rose or spoke, in impatience to learn what it was!
CHAPTER XVII.
Who will believe that, with a smile whose blessing
Would, like the patriarch's, soothe a dying hour;
With voice as low, as gentle, and caressing
As e'er won maiden's lips in moonlight bower;
With look like patient Job's, eschewing evil;
With motions graceful as the birds in air;
Thou art, in sober truth, the veriest devil
That e'er clinched fingers in a captive's hair?
--HALLECK'S Red-Jacket.
Although the arrival of the runner was so totally unexpected, it
scarcely disturbed the quiet of that grave assembly. His approaching
step had been heard, and he was introduced in the manner mentioned, when
the young chief resumed his seat, leaving the messenger standing near
the centre of the circle, and altogether within the influence of the
light. He was an Ottawa, and had evidently travelled far and fast. At
length he spoke; no one having put a single question to him, or betrayed
the least sign of impatient curiosity.
“I come to tell the chiefs what has happened,” said the runner. “Our
Great Father from Quebec has sent his young men against the Yankees. Red
warriors, too, were there in hundreds--” here a murmur of interest was
slightly apparent among the chiefs--“their path led them to Detroit; it
is taken.”
A low murmur, expressive of satisfaction, passed round the circle,
for Detroit was then the most important of all the posts held by the
Americans, along the whole line of the great lakes. Eye met eye in
surprise and admiration; then one of the older chiefs yielded to his
interest in the subject, and inquired:
“Have our young men taken many pale-face scalps?”
“So few that they are not worth counting. I did not see one pole that
was such as an Indian loves to look on.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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