Indians of North America -- Wars -- 1812-1815 -- Fiction; United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Fiction
No human being was visible, but an indistinct murmur, coming from
nowhere and everywhere, mingled with the rush of the river and the
whisper of the wind in the green rushes and the tall grass. The huts
seemed to stir visibly; first from one and then from a score, men,
women, and children bobbed out, some merrily, some grumpily, to stretch
themselves in the sunshine and to breathe in the soft morning air
before it began to quiver in the baking heat that would surely and
swiftly come. For early June was no less hot in northern Ohio in 1812,
when the whole country was one vast alternation of swamp and forest,
than it is a hundred years later when the land has been drained and the
forest cut away.
From the door of a cabin near the centre of the town emerged a girl
sixteen or seventeen years of age, who stood still in the sunbeams,
eyes fixed on the trail that led away through the breaks in the
forest to the south. Her features, browned as they were by the sun
and concealed as they were by paint, yet plainly lacked the high
cheek-bones, black eyes, and broad nostrils of the Indians. Some alien
blood showed itself in the softness of her cheek, in the kindling color
in her long dark hair, in the brown of her eyes. Her graceful body had
the straight slenderness that in the quick-maturing Indian maids of
her size and height had given place to the rounded curves of budding
womanhood. Her head, alertly poised above her strong throat, showed
none of the marks of ancestral toil that had already begun to bow her
companions. In dress alone was she like them, though even in this the
unusual richness of her doeskin garb, belted at the hips with silver,
marked her as one of prominence.
For a little longer the girl watched the southward trail; then her eyes
roved westward, across the rippling waters of the Auglaize, now veiled
only by scattered wisps of mist, and across its border of sedgy grass,
pale shimmering green in the mounting sun, and rested on a cabin that
stood on the further bank, between an orchard and a small field of
enormous corn. From this cabin two men were just emerging.
They were too far away indeed for the average civilized man or woman to
distinguish more than that they were men and were dressed as whites.
The girl, however, was possessed of sight naturally strong and had been
trained all her life amid surroundings where quickness of vision might
easily mean the difference between life and death. She had seen the men
before and she recognized them instantly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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