“There is a trampling in the wood;—
The mat, the cabin's entrance rude,
Shakes;—it was no dream of fear,—
Behold an Indian's face appear,
He stands within the cot.—”
YAMOYDEN.
We must now return to Kenah, the Prophet's messenger. Having left the
wigwam of Netnokwa, dissatisfied with his visit, and vowing vengeance
against its inmates, he continued his wanderings for the purpose of
still farther disseminating his doctrines. Journeying among her own
tribe, every day gave him proofs of the great influence she wielded,
and he saw that it was vain to attempt to effect any thing, while in
her own lodge she permitted the doctrines of the Prophet to be
ridiculed, and his agents to be treated with derision and disrespect.
Satisfied with the correctness of this opinion, and not being able by
his own means to counteract the effect which the sentiments there
uttered were likely to produce, he at once bent his steps towards the
camp of the Prophet, determined to lay the matter before him, and to
ask his interference. In doing this, besides the desire he had widely
to disseminate the doctrines he was preaching, he was angered to find
himself thwarted by one of that hated race, whose destruction he was
plotting; and he resolved within his own mind, that if he could obtain
the Prophet's consent, she should expiate her offence by death.
Having arrived in the country on the Wabash, he lost no time in
searching out the Prophet, whom he found engaged as he had left him,
in exciting and preparing the Indians for the part they were to act.
Seeking an opportunity, he gave a detail of his wanderings, and dwelt
particularly on the reception he had met with at Netnokwa's lodge, and
the opposition he had encountered to the propagation of his doctrines,
in the person of a pale face girl. He urged the necessity there was
for removing her, together with the Indian maiden, who was entirely
under her influence; and likewise, the propriety of adopting some
strong measures relative to Netnokwa. He urged this the more, because
he believed her at most lukewarm in her support of his doctrines, and
feared that from the high place she held in the affections of the
Indians, she might, if permitted to waver in her opinions, destroy at
any moment, the influence which he had already obtained among them. He
was angered, and his thirst for vengeance caused him to urge with
great eagerness, the immediate adoption of some strong plans.
When Kenah first announced his visit to the lodge of Netnokwa, the
countenance of the Prophet was darkened with anger, and he bit his
lips in suppressed rage; yet Kenah finished his story, and still the
Prophet, to his surprise, remained silent. Had the persons whose
deaths he wished, been any other than those they were, no difficulty
would have ensued; they would have been removed without a struggle,
for the Prophet always thirsted for blood;—he was never known to
forgive an enemy, nor ever, under any circumstances, to intercede for
a victim; the narrative of Kenah had embittered his feelings in the
highest degree;—he was mad with rage, and still he refused to answer
Kenah's demand, requiring time to pass upon the matter. Taking this
view of his character, Kenah viewed his conduct as perfectly
incomprehensible. His divine mission had been ridiculed and denied, he
himself decried as an impostor, and that too by a woman, and she of a
hated race, and yet he required time to act.
Kenah felt that a change had come over the Prophet, and leaving him,
he mentioned the circumstances, and they soon became the common talk
of the camp. But while he did this, he little knew the difficulties
which lay in the way of the Prophet. At the first recital of the
events which Kenah had detailed, the Prophet knew that the white
maiden alluded to, could be no other than the same who was captured by
Yanatah, and whom he had given to Netnokwa to take with her home;—and
that the red maiden who was said to be under her influence, and whose
death Kenah also thought desirable, could be no other than she who was
to have been the bride of Tecumseh. When he recollected that this
difficulty had occurred in consequence of his having once, and once
only, permitted a pale face who was in his clutches to escape from
them, he felt a pang, such as is ordinarily felt, when one reverts for
a moment to some deep crime which stains his past life. Under these
circumstances he for some time hesitated what to do. Netnokwa was
powerful, and possessed great influence, which it was necessary either
to obtain or destroy. How to do this, while those who resided with
her, were suffered to ridicule his doctrines, he could not tell. To
accuse her of witchcraft, and order her to the stake, was now
impossible, for he had lately declared, in the words of the Great
Spirit, that all witches were exterminated, and he (the Great Spirit)
appeased.
To connive in any way at the death of her daughter, was equally
impossible, standing as she did toward Tecumseh, somewhat in relation
of an affianced bride; and to order to death the captive maiden, who
was under the same roof, he equally feared would call down his
displeasure; for he knew the opposition he had felt to the summary
method which had been practiced for removing the chiefs who were his
enemies, and also his general repugnance to shedding the blood of
women and children. With these views, and still undecided, he summoned
Kenah, and explained to him the difficulties by which he was
surrounded; and after a discussion of the plan best to be adopted, it
was agreed that Netnokwa, with her daughter and the captive, should be
brought at once to the camp of the Prophet, where they could be at
least prevented from doing any mischief, and where they should remain
until Tecumseh's return from the south, when, in general council, some
disposition should be made of them. This plan appearing feasible, and
having been agreed upon, they began to make preparations for carrying
it into effect. Kenah was cautioned that Netnokwa was to be borne away
without the knowledge of her tribe, and that neither she nor the
maidens who were with her, were to receive the least injury. He deemed
wisely that, once safely in his power, he could turn her influence to
his own account, and at least keep her as a hostage for the good
conduct of her tribe. It was but a short time after this resolve, when
Kenah, having selected some half a dozen of the Prophet's most
confidential followers, left the camp, and set out in the direction of
Netnokwa's lodge.
The Indian affairs were now every day assuming a more warlike
character, and Tecumseh and Elkswatawa, although engaged in different
quarters of the country, were using all their exertions to prepare for
the coming conflict. No open act of hostility had as yet been
committed; but their plans were fast maturing, and Tecumseh had avowed
his purpose to strike a sure and heavy blow as soon as he should
return from the south, where he was now engaged in uniting in one
common bond, the various tribes in that quarter. While such were the
exertions of Tecumseh and Elkswatawa, General Harrison was arduously
engaged in organizing and disciplining the militia under his command,
and preparing for the crisis which he saw fast approaching. Accounts,
containing all the information he could gather, relative to the
proceedings of the Indians were regularly forwarded to the War
Department, and he was in daily expectation of receiving orders
requiring him to disperse the band of the Prophet, which, moving as it
did always, just on the frontiers, served to keep the citizens in a
state of perpetual alarm.
While such was the aspect of the Indian affairs, Rolfe and Earthquake
were journeying on with Oloompa, to the lodge of Netnokwa. As yet they
had been unmolested, but they saw from the excitement which was every
where existing among the Indians, that hostilities were intended, and
they regretted having ventured so far with so small a force. In
Oloompa, however, they had seen no change since, though still
reserved, and not cordial in his manner, he continued to aid them in
supplying all their wants, and assured them of their safety.
The history of Gay Foreman, now presented her in a situation of great
interest; for, while in one direction, Oloompa and Earthquake were
moving on for the purpose of restoring her to her friends in the
settlements; in another, Kenah, with his party, was hurrying on to
seize her and the friends she had formed, and carry them all as
prisoners to the camp of the Prophet.
At the cottage of Netnokwa, all was quiet, and nothing told of the
fate which awaited its inmates. The time for Oloompa's promised return
had arrived, and the maidens were excited with the pleasing
anticipations of soon seeing him, accompanied as Gay fondly believed
he would be, by Rolfe, of whom she had never thought but with
affection.—Time had glided on smoothly since Oloompa's departure. They
had had but few visitors, and were now alone. Netnokwa and the maidens
were pursuing their usual avocations, either embroidering with the
needle, which, with all, was a daily duty, or else making moccasins,
and decorating them with beads. Buffalo skins were also often
prepared, and adorned on the inner surface, with paintings or
hieroglyphical devices, by means of colours obtained from the woods,
which remained fresh and vivid, although exposed to the changes of the
weather. When not engaged in these things, they were nursing their
flowers, or roving through the woods.
So were they situated, and it was evening, when they were alone in
their wigwam, that their ears were assailed with the most terrific
yell. It reverberated through the woods like the ringing of a horn,
and in another moment, Kenah and his party were rushing towards them.
Netnokwa sprung forward and planted herself in the door. Miskwa and
Gay crouched behind her. The Prophet's band, like a swollen torrent,
came sweeping on. “Stop, madmen!” she cried, in a loud piercing voice,
which appalled even the fiercest hearts, and hushed them into silence
deep as that of the grave:—“Dost thou know Netnokwa? Darest thou fell
the old oak of the forest, or handle roughly the loveliest flower of
the prairie? Cowardly wretches! what want you here?” She ceased:—they
were awed into silence, and, like dogs at bay, were kept at a
distance, by Netnokwa's glance. But a moment passed, and Kenah again
rushing forward, the frame of old Netnokwa yielded to his impetuosity,
and entering the cabin, he was followed by his party. At first, were
heard cries and shrieks, and several moments passed of distracting
doubt. Then the voice of old Netnokwa was heard sounding loud above
the storm within, and venting curses and imprecations on Kenah and his
party. “Whence came ye? Who orders? How dare you touch Netnokwa?
Netnokwa is now as withered grass,—her stream of life is almost
dry,—her hair is whiter than the snow.—Who wants her? Say, blood
hounds! why come ye?”
“The Prophet,” cried Kenah.
“May the lightning of the Great Spirit wither his heart. May his
spirit never enter the happy hunting grounds of the red men,” cried
Netnokwa. “He wants the last drop that flows in the veins of the old
woman.”
“No,” said Kenah, “the Prophet wishes to see Netnokwa. He sends for
her to his camp. He will not harm her.”
“Then why did he not send a runner. The message of the Prophet is
heavy; six warriors must bear it. Why come ye all?”
“It is the Prophet's will:”—was the brief reply.
Netnokwa shook her head, for she saw too well, the fate which awaited
her, and calming herself, she turned to Miskwa, who with Gay had
crouched down behind her, each trembling with fear. Holding with her a
hurried dialogue for a few moments, she again turned to Kenah; “What
becomes of Netnokwa's daughter, the loveliest flower of the prairie?”
“The Prophet wishes to see her;” was the answer.
“And the captive maiden;—” she continued.
“Will spread her blanket in the camp of the Prophet?” replied Kenah.
Gay now wept as if her heart would break, for she regarded herself as
the author of the heavy misfortune, which had come so suddenly upon
them; while each moment Netnokwa and Miskwa grew more composed.
“Where is Tecumseh?” inquired Netnokwa.
“Tecumseh has no home,” said Kenah. “He wanders far and wide, and
spreads his blanket when the sun goes down.”
“Netnokwa's daughter will be the bride of Tecumseh; does he know that
the Prophet wants her blood?”
“The Prophet is not now dry;” was the answer. “When he drinks again,
it will be the blood of the whites. Kenah has no time for talk;—when
night comes, Netnokwa and the maidens must set out upon their journey.
Let them prepare.”
Miskwa had now recovered her firmness of character. It was not the
fear of death, which had caused her to tremble in the first instance,
for there were many ways in which she would have met it, and died
worthy of the race from which she sprung; but it was the indescribable
dread produced by the name of the Prophet, with the knowledge that she
had incurred his displeasure, and was to be ushered at once into his
presence. Gay still wept, and rising, threw herself on the bosom of
Miskwa, and begged her to forgive her for the calamity which she had
brought upon them. She lamented not her own fate, but seemed only to
deplore that of her friends. Miskwa tried to soothe and console her,
and repeated to her that Kenah had said the Prophet only wished to see
them at his camp. Yet, even while she said so, she felt that he would
never have ordered them from so far a distance into his presence, but
from some sinister motive; and she then recollected Tecumseh, and hope
beamed forth, when she thought of the relation in which she stood
towards him.
Netnokwa now, leaving her lodge, came out in the open air; Kenah, and
his party followed, for their object was to take them off as soon as
the night set in, and removing them silently, leave no trace of their
departure. Should it be known that Netnokwa was threatened with
danger, and was to be dragged away into the presence of the Prophet,
Kenah knew that her friends would be instantly in arms, and he with
his party, be made to suffer death for the steps they had already
taken. This, then, was to be prevented, and stationing themselves on
the outside of her cabin, they kept watch, that none of its inmates
might escape, and no one approach without their knowledge. While they
did this, Netnokwa, now as calm as if no danger awaited her, in deep
meditation was silently walking to and fro in front of her door.
Though worn with years, there was something so majestic and commanding
in her manner, that not a member of Kenah's party but felt its
influence. Her figure, tall and thin, was bent by age, and her hair,
once of the glossiest black, was now white as the fresh fallen snow,
and dishevelled, fell loosely over her shoulders. The sun was fast
declining, and Kenah seeing that Netnokwa was making no preparations
to commence her journey, said aloud, “When night comes, Netnokwa will
set out to see the Prophet. The wise man always prepares for his
journey.” Netnokwa was silent; she saw that it was worse than vain,
situated as she then was, to oppose their determination, and she
entered her wigwam. “Come, my children,” said she, “a few hours more,
and they say we must leave. It is for the banks of the Wabash. We go
to see the Prophet. Let us get ready our richest clothes. We may go
over the border, and Netnokwa wishes to be fine when she meets her
warriors who have gone before her, to the happy hunting grounds of the
Great Spirit.”
“Oh! mother,” cried Gay, rushing into the arms of Netnokwa, “it is I
who have done this. You loved me, and preserved me, and I have called
down the vengeance of the Prophet upon you.—Oh! that I were dead.—Wilt
thou pardon me?—I did not intend it.”
“Rise, daughter,” said Netnokwa, gently unclasping Gay's hands, “Why
weeps ‘Sweet Flower?’ Is it that Netnokwa is going to her long home?
Like the old oak, she has spread out her arms to shelter her tribe;
but her branches are now withered. She is no longer the green
bough:—why should she remain? The blasted tree only tells of the
storms which have passed. Netnokwa is tired of journeying. The end of
her path will make her glad.”
“But, oh! mother,” cried Gay, “I have brought ruin upon you; and what
will become of Miskwa?”
“She will follow her mother, if she is a trueborn maiden,” said
Netnokwa. “Why weep that the fountain bursting forth, soon finds its
way to the big lake? Why lament that the flower clothed in beauty, is
cut down in summer? Why grieve that her path is short, and her journey
soon ended? Netnokwa has been travelling long to her happy hunting
grounds. The way is bad.—Her feet are bruised and sore with travel,
and her arms wear the marks of thorns and briars. The face of ‘Sweet
Flower’ is like the snow, but her heart is that of a red maiden,—she
shall go with us; Netnokwa will tell the Great Spirit that her heart
is good, and ask him to let her stay with his red children.” Gay could
make no reply, her feelings were too strong for utterance, and she
continued weeping.
Fancy never sketched a lovelier being, than was Miskwa at this moment;
having composed herself, she stood drawn up to her full height,
apparently firm, and manifested the hitherto undeveloped energies of
her character. All fear was banished, and she stood calmly listening
to the words of her mother, and struggling to keep down her sympathy
for her friend. When Netnokwa finished speaking, Gay turned from her,
and weeping, her eyes met Miskwa's; there was an eloquent interchange
of thought, and starting forward, she again threw herself on her
bosom. Miskwa spoke not; but her feelings were awakened by the
sufferings of her friend, and though silent, she proved how deeply she
felt; for two streams, which had their source in as pure an affection
as ever kindled a human bosom, flowed fast and free.
Netnokwa now reminded them of the hour which Kenah had mentioned, as
the time when they must set out upon their journey. It was sooner than
the maidens expected, and Gay now mentioned what before she had only
thought. “Oh! Miskwa, what will become of Rolfe and Oloompa, and how
sadly will they be disappointed. Oh! that they had come before this.”
“They will follow us,” said Miskwa. “Oloompa will see what has
happened. He can trace our steps. He may yet save us from the
Prophet.”
“Heaven grant that he may,” said Gay, and again she began to weep,—and
added, “oh! Miskwa, to be taken away at the very moment I believed I
was to be made happy, and to leave him when he has been so long
seeking me,—oh! it is hard, hard.”
Miskwa asked her to get together such articles as they would need, and
to aid her mother, in making preparations for their journey, while she
would attend to another duty. Gay left her, to comply with her
request, and while she did this, Miskwa taking up some clay from the
floor, moistened it, and kneading it into a pliant substance, seemed
suddenly to forget her situation with the feelings which had agitated
her, and was engaged, heart and soul, in fashioning into small images
the clay she held in her hands. A few moments passed, and six little
men, or figures which she regarded as such, were made, and placed upon
a shelf behind her, with their faces fronting the direction in which
she thought Kenah and his party would travel. Having examined them for
a while, turned them around several times, and satisfied herself that
they were properly arranged, she again resumed her task. Next came
from her fingers an old woman, her figure bore the marks of great age,
and rude as were her features, there were evidently marks of great
wretchedness in her countenance. She was placed just in front of the
six men, and it was evident that they were driving her along. Soon two
little girls were placed by the side of the old woman, and having
satisfied herself that they all occupied their exact positions, she
was again at work. The next figure she made, was a man several times
as large as any she had yet formed; he was made to stand on the
farther edge of the shelf, and to him, the party seemed endeavoring to
make their way. A number of little cabins were then made, and placed
near him, and stretching out a small piece of clay, and curving it so
as to represent the meanderings of a river, this was placed near the
houses, and her task was completed. The whole had been the labour of a
few minutes, and no one had observed her occupation. She then, with a
lighter heart than she before possessed, joined her mother, and began
to assist her and Gay in making their preparations to set out. None
seemed disposed to converse, and in silence they continued their duty,
at the same time bidding farewell to every little nook or corner, and
imagining to themselves the reception and the fate, which awaited them
at the Prophet's camp. With Gay, there were other thoughts which added
to her unhappiness; it was the sad issue which was to attend Rolfe's
exertions in her behalf.
Darkness was now settling over the land, when Kenah entered the lodge,
and told Netnokwa that he was ready to set out. He again assured her
of her safety, as well as that of her daughter and the captive,
provided they obeyed his orders. He required that in setting out upon
their journey, they should make no noise, nor attempt to escape, at
the peril of their lives; but to proceed in such a manner as to create
no surprise, even should they be seen. And that this she must do,
until the whole party had passed beyond the reach of her tribe. In
case he was discovered, he said he was ordered by the Prophet, first
to kill her daughter, and then the captive and herself. These were
hard requisitions. Netnokwa made no reply, but in obedience to Kenah,
they all took up their bundles, and came out of the lodge. He then
closed the door, giving to the cabin an appearance that its inmates
had merely left it for a time, and soon after, the captives were
surrounded, and ordered to move forward. Netnokwa and Miskwa obeyed in
silence, but Gay, thinking that there it was she had expected to meet
Rolfe, turned round, and gazing at the cabin, burst into a flood of
tears, for with that look, she gave up all hope of ever seeing him
again. As she did this, Kenah rudely caught her arm, and jerking her
around, held his tomahawk in her face, then whispering in her ear,
said, “Kenah's tomahawk loves the pale face's blood; it is now
thirsty,—when the maiden makes a noise, it shall drink.” His words
caused her to shudder, as though a serpent was creeping over her, and
her cries were hushed. This movement was not seen by Miskwa or
Netnokwa, and Gay, as soon as she recovered a little from the shock
which Kenah's words had given her, bent her steps towards them, and
they all moved forward in the deepest silence.