In plain clothes, without letters or despatches but well supplied with
funds, Corporal Bond was chosen by Sir George to accompany Latimer and
his wife on the first trip of the _Bumble Bee_. The order was to go no
farther than was necessary, but to purchase provisions from the settlers
living along the shore of the lake; and to return with the proceeds to
the fort with all possible speed. This was outside of the ordinary scene
of conflict, and the trip could be accomplished, Latimer declared, with
safety.
Mrs. Bond, accustomed to the vicissitudes of military life, took the
parting from her husband philosophically. She was proud of his selection
for the trust, and hoping for his early return wished him God-speed,
almost without a tear.
Perhaps of the two women, Helen was the sorrier. She betrayed more
feeling, and with much reluctance parted with her old nurse again. When
the women were so few, the absence of one, particularly this one, seemed
like a desolation to her.
"I shall soon be back again," said Mrs. Latimer, as Helen wrung her
hand. "So do not worry, child." She was thinking of the London days of
long ago, when she nursed her and carried her so often on her shoulders.
"I wonder if she'll ever come back or is this the last I'll see of her?"
was Helen's thought as she brushed away a tear.
The little brig spread its canvas, and by the darkening was speeding
outside the harbor into the open lake.
A day or two later preparations were completed to forward official
despatches and letters overland to Little York--the party to consist of
Nenimkee, one of his Indians and two men of the regiment; and by
arrangement the chief reported himself at Sir George's quarters, the
evening previous to their departure, to receive final instructions.
The sun had just set among pillars of sapphire and gold. The day had
been hot but the leaves were rustling upon the trees, for a gentle
coolness was coming. Still the mosquitoes were too many to be blown
away, and a smoke fire helped to nullify their ardor. Around it Sir
George and his officers seated themselves to await the arrival of the
chief.
Nenimkee was a typical Indian--tall, middle-aged, with high cheek bones
and restless black eyes. To do honor to the occasion and his mission he
dressed in native costume that night with wampum belt, girdle, tomahawk
and knife.
"Glad to see you," said Sir George, extending his hand. "These are my
officers, and this is Big Thunder, Chief of the Ojibways--one of his
Gracious Majesty's most loyal chiefs."
Gravely and silently the Indian shook hands with the men as they rose.
Then he seated himself on a block by Sir George's side, and Lieutenant
Manning handed him a pipe well filled with tobacco. The smoking was
general and for some moments there was silence.
"Good tobacco," was Nenimkee's first comment.
"Yes," said the Colonel. "We always give the best to our friends."
"Nenimkee take some on his journey?" were his next words.
"Yes, you shall."
"White chief good--always good to Indians."
"Thank you, Nenimkee," said Sir George. "Are you long back from the war
path?"
"Seven moons," was the answer. The Indian shrugged his shoulders and for
some moments again there was silence.
"Tell us about it," said the Colonel.
"Does Sir George want to know how the English were beaten, and driven
back, and the Indian Prince and his men slain?" Big Thunder asked with
flashing eyes.
"Yes," said Sir George. "The story must be a sad one. The English
soldier does not like to hear of being beaten, but if true it is better
for him to know it."
"And tell you about Tecumseh, and how Tecumseh fell?"
"Yes. Tell it all."
For some moments the Indian pulled vigorously at his pipe, and the men
around the fire could hear his heavy breathing, as he drew in the fumes
of the tobacco, and expelled them with every breath through his
distended nostrils.
The last rays of the setting sun had disappeared, the wind had ceased,
and the air was silent again, save for the croak of the lake frogs and
the twang of a whip-poor-will in a neighboring tree. By-and-bye the
Indian laid his pipe to one side, and fixing his eye on a bright star in
the west far above the horizon, he commenced his story:
"The Ojibways are of the Algonquin race," he said; "a people that
roamed, before the white man came, from the rising to the setting sun. I
will not tell you of our wars with the Iroquois and Hurons, and with the
people of the Great Father--which made the number of our braves less and
less, and our women so few that you could count them like tassels on a
little field of corn. But twenty moons ago, war sprang up from a little
cloud no bigger than a man's hand; and the people to the south of the
lakes dug up the hatchet and hurled it against the white men and the red
men of the north. So the Indians in council buried the hatchet among
themselves, and chose Tecumseh, the greatest warrior of the six nations,
to be their chief, and swore by the Great Spirit, that they would stand
side by side with their white brothers. Then it was that Algonquins and
Hurons and Iroquois united as they never did before; and with the pale
face Britons fought the common foe.
"Tecumseh led three thousand Indians to the fight, while White Chief
Proctor led the British. For a while the enemy was driven back, their
warriors fell by hundreds, and many of their scalps hung at the belts of
Indian braves.
"Then the foe got mad and gathering more men together drove our people
back to Amherstburg, where we fought them to the teeth. But the Great
Spirit forgot that we were his people--our day turned into night--our
victories into mourning. The Great Father's warships melted like snow
beneath the sun, and American cannons mowed down our men like grass."
The Indian was growing excited. He sat erect, with hands gripping the
block beneath him, and eyes fixed afar off as if in a vision.
"Did I say the Yankees whipped the English?" he commenced again in
hollow tones, forgetful of everything but the graphic outlines of his
terrible story. "Yes, but the big white chief was a coward and a squaw,
or it would not have happened. Tecumseh said so, and Tecumseh never
lied. Nenimkee stood by him when the news came that all the captains and
half the men on the lakes were dead, and the ships gone to the bottom.
Then the Great Chief's heart shed drops of blood in anguish, but his
eyes were dry, for an Indian never drops a tear.
"For a time the war-whoop was over. White men and red men fled back to
the woods. Night and day they tramped through the forest back from the
lake and on by the river. But the Yankees were after them, and scorning
to die like dogs the Indians turned to meet their foe. Although the
coward Proctor forsook him, Tecumseh shouted the war-whoop of the
nations, and surrounded by his warriors with their tomahawks, met the
horsemen from the south. Man after man did Tecumseh slay. Covered with
blood and his body full of bullets he sprang at last upon Chief Johnson,
the Yankee foe, and dragged him to the ground. Then he drew his knife to
strike him to the heart--but it was too late--he had gone to the spirit
land and half his warriors went with him."
"This is horrible!" exclaimed Sir George with a strong effort at
self-control, for excitement was depicted upon every face. "I knew
nothing of it. Not a word has reached me. But it is terrible to lose so
brave a chief as Tecumseh."
"There was no one like Tecumseh," continued Nenimkee in tones like the
thrilling blast of distant thunder. "No arm so strong, no eye so true,
no heart so soft when his little ones and his Laughing Fawn were with
him. His bullet went straight to the bull's eye, and his arrow to the
heart of the moose. His tomahawk never wavered, but as lightning from
the eagle's eyrie strikes the tepee of the Indian, so his axe cleaved
the skulls of his enemies, while his knife spilled their life blood at
his feet. Now it is all over, and while the red man's blood cries for
vengeance, his heart bleeds for his chief."
"How did you escape when so many were slain around you?" asked the
Colonel.
"The sun went down as Tecumseh's war-whoop ended and Nenimkee led his
warriors deeper into the woods."
"Did you lose many men?"
"Forty braves went--only twenty came back."
"You did not join the troops again?"
"What use? All is quiet in winter. The Ojibways went straight to their
wigwams."
"Do you know how the war goes this year?"
"Only that the fight is toward the rising sun."
"You will bring more news when you return?"
"It will not take many days," said the Indian. "But the woods are thick,
the rocks many, and part of the way there is no trail."
"Still you will find the nearest road?"
"Does the crow fly crooked, or the nighthawk backward?" Big Thunder
asked, sedately resuming his pipe.
"Nor does the Indian forget his cunning, nor the white man to reward his
friend," said the Colonel, gravely. "You are going on the business of
the Great Father, and he will expect his red brother of the forest to do
his best."
"It is well. We will go quickly, and blaze the trees on the road, so
that a fool, though blindfold, could find his way back again."
"Could not a bridle path be made through the woods to carry provisions
overland from Little York to Penetang?" suggested the Chaplain.
"A good idea," returned Sir George. "We need them badly enough, and it
will not do at present to depend upon securing supplies by water."
"A good trail can be made, but it will take two or three suns longer,"
was Nenimkee's comment.
"We will leave it in your hands, then," said Sir George, rising to close
the interview.
"The white chief shall be satisfied." With this, Nenimkee left them, and
at sunrise on the following morning he started with his party for
Little York.