Florida -- Fiction; Indians of North America -- Fiction
"I do not urge upon you to withhold vengeance for injuries done to our
race by the white enemy. I only desire to make it more full and
terrible. This is but the beginning of a long list of retributions, the
overflowing of accumulated wrongs, the first step towards freedom and
redemption! To take that step we must be patient until certain of
success. Then begins a warfare that will only end with the annihilation
of our hated enemies and in a new existence for the red men! Have I
spoken well?"
Loud approbation greeted him from the assembled warriors; but such is
the inconsistency of human character that individually they devised
means for immediate retaliation on the settlers.
Hence the several encounters which had already taken place.
Nelatu, mortified at his own weakness, was among the warriors addressed
by Wacora.
On returning from the council, the young chief approached his cousin.
"Nelatu, you would do something to make up for your blind infatuation,
that has led to such misfortunes?"
"I would, Wacora, I would. My father's face seems always before me,
reproaching me as my sister's destroyer."
"Then action is the only way by which to shake off the remorseful
feeling. Our efforts have till now been fruitless in tracing the spot
to which your sister has been carried. She must be found, and the
punishment of the guilty made sure."
"Not Sansuta. You would not injure her?"
Wacora smiled sadly, as he pressed his hand upon his heart.
"No, Nelatu, I would not injure your sister. Alas! I had already
learned to love her. I would not hurt her for worlds. It is the wretch
who has carried her away. I would have him suffer a thousand deaths,
and every death more terrible than the other!"
"Tell me, what can I do? If I remain idle, I shall die!"
"Take three or four of my own people, follow every trail that promises
to lead to where they are concealed, and having found the monster, bring
him to me alive."
Wacora's eyes, as he uttered these words, blazed with passion.
"I would rather go alone," said Nelatu.
"As you please; but remember, that there is one man you dare not trust,
and yet he may be the means of finding Sansuta."
"His name?"
"Crookleg, the negro."
"But he, too, is missing."
"I know it, and therefore he can lead you to their hiding-place, if he
can be found. With Crookleg to assist you, you may succeed; without him
your search will be fruitless."
"How am I to find him?"
"By diligent search. He is not near the spot, but yet not so distant as
to be ignorant of what is passing. He has the cunning of the wild cat;
remember that."
"I'll be a match for him, never fear, cousin."
Wacora glanced pityingly at the simple youth.
He thought of his confiding nature, and felt that if the only chance of
finding Sansuta lay in cunning, they would never be discovered.
"Well, Nelatu, I have given you the best advice I can. Will you
undertake the search?"
"I will!"
"When?"
"At once, Wacora."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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