The Daughter of the Chieftain : the Story of an Indian GirlEllis, Edward Sylvester
General
The Daughter of the Chieftain : the Story of an Indian Girl
Ellis, Edward Sylvester
Delaware Indians -- Fiction; Indian women -- North America -- Fiction; Indians of North America -- Fiction
But everyone else in the party also noted it. It was a shrill,
penetrating whistle, ringing among the forest arches--a call which she
had heard many a time, and she could never mistake its meaning.
Her eyes sparkled through her tears, which wet her cheeks; but she
forgot everything but that signal.
"Dat Omas!--dat Omas--dat fader!" she exclaimed, springing to her feet,
trembling and aglow with excitement.
There was one among the three who, had his painted complexion permitted,
would have turned ashy pale. Red Wolf was afraid that when the fearful
Delaware warrior thundered down on them, he would not give his brother
time to explain matters before sinking his tomahawk into his brain.
Manifestly, therefore, but one course was open for him, and he took it
without a second's delay.
He fled for his life.
The Senecas, however, stood their ground. The signal of Omas sounded
again, and Linna answered it. Her father was near at hand, and quickly
came to view.
But, lo! he had a companion. It was To-wika, his faithful wife.
The reunion of the Delaware family was an extraordinary one. Had no
others been present, Linna would have bounded into the arms of her
mother, been pressed impulsively to her breast, and then received the
same fervent welcome from her father.
But never could anything like that take place before witnesses.
When the child saw her parents she walked gravely up to them, having
first done her utmost to remove the traces of tears, and took her place
by their side. The mother said something in her native tongue, but it
could not have been of much account, for the child gave no reply.
Omas did not speak. One quick glance was bestowed upon his child, and
then he addressed himself to the work before him.
Omas was as cunning as a serpent. He would not have hesitated to assail
these two Senecas, for, truth to tell, he could never feel much love for
the conquerors of his people. He did not fear them; but he saw the way
to win his point without such tempestuous violence.
His words, therefore, were calculated to soothe rather than irritate. He
asked them to explain how it was they were in charge of his friends, and
listened attentively while one of them answered his inquiry.
Then, as is natural with his race, he recounted in somewhat extravagant
language his own deeds of the last few days. There is reason to believe
he gave himself credit for a number of exploits against the palefaces of
which he was innocent.
Then he said the only ones he loved among the palefaces were the three
there present--he had entrusted his only child to them, and they had
saved her from the anger of their people. He had slept under their roof,
and eaten of their bread. They were his best friends; and they his brave
Seneca brothers, when they knew of this, would be glad. He had set out
to conduct them to the settlements, and his brothers would wish all a
safe arrival there.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account