The lost hunter: A tale of early timesAdams, John Turvill
General
The lost hunter: A tale of early times
Adams, John Turvill
Adventure stories; Indians of North America -- Fiction; New England -- Fiction
Peena was not disposed to blame the boy for his disgust at
drunkenness. It was a feeling she had herself most sedulously
cultivated by every means in her power, pointing out, as occasion
offered, like the Lacedemonians, its exhibitions in its worst forms,
and contrasting the wretched drunkard falling, from degradation to
degradation, into a dishonored grave, with the sober and vigorous man.
She had succeeded in imparting to Quadaquina her own abhorrence of the
vice, and was cautious not to weaken the impression.
"Enough," said Peena; "my son will grow up into a brave and good man;
but if he despises Ohquamehud for his drunkenness, let him not forget
he is his kinsman. Hearken," she added, earnestly, and drawing the
boy nearer, while she lowered her voice; "does Quadaquina know that
Ohquamehud hates the Longbeard?"
"Quadaquina's ears and eyes are open," said the boy.
"Ohquamehud's feet will soon chase the setting sun," continued Peena,
"but before he starts the fire-water may try to make him do some
foolish thing. Quadaquina must have love enough for his kinsman to
prevent the folly."
"Not because Quadaquina loves, but because Ohquamehud is his father's
brother."
"It is well. Ohquamehud must do the Longbeard no harm, and Quadaquina
must watch them both, and, if need be, warn the Longbeard of the
danger."
The boy, proud of the trust committed to him, promised to obey his
mother and be watchful, and from that time commenced a system of
patient vigilance, of which a white child would scarcely be capable,
but which seems to be a part of the nature of an Indian. Whenever
Ohquamehud left the cabin Quadaquina sought no more to avoid him, but
accompanied him whenever invited, and if not, generally followed, so
as not to lose him long out of sight. There was something about the
trust that agreed well with the cunning of the child. It had for him a
kind of fascination, like that which induces the hunter patiently, day
after day, to pursue the track of the flying game, looking forward to
the moment of success, when all his toil is to be repaid.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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