American fiction -- 19th century; Historical fiction; Indians of North America -- Fiction
While this dialogue was going on, Margery had succeeded in lighting her
fire, and was busy in preparing some warm compound, which she knew would
be required by her unhappy brother after his debauch, Dorothy passed
often between the fire and the canoe, feeling a wife's anxiety in the
fate of her husband. As for the Chippewa, intoxication was a very venial
offence in his eyes; though he had a contempt for a man who would thus
indulge while on a warpath. The American Indian does possess this merit
of adapting his deportment to his circumstances. When engaged in war he
usually prepares himself, in the coolest and wisest manner, to meet
its struggles, indulging only in moments of leisure, and of comparative
security. It is true that the march of what is called civilization is
fast changing the red man's character, and he is very apt now to do that
which he sees done by the “Christians” around him.
Le Bourdon, when his dialogue with the Chippewa was over, and after a
few words of explanation with Margery, took his own canoe, and
paddled through the rice-plants into the open water of the river, to
reconnoitre. The breadth of the stream induced him to float down before
the wind, until he reached a point where he could again command a view
of the hut. What he there saw, and what he next did, must be reserved
for a succeeding chapter.
CHAPTER VIII.
The elfin cast a glance around,
As he lighted down from his courser toad,
Then round his breast his wings he wound,
And close to the river's brink he strode;
He sprang on a rock, he breathed a prayer,
Above his head his arm he threw,
Then tossed a tiny curve in air,
And headlong plunged in the water blue.
DRAKE.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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