THE EXPLOIT OF HANS VANDERBUM.
God forgive me,
(Marry and amen!) how sound is she asleep!
--ROMEO AND JULIET.
Hans Vanderbum loitered on his way back to the village, to avoid giving
the impression to any who might chance to see him that there was
anything unusual upon his mind. The precious substance handed to him
by the Huron--a sort of gum--he wrapped in a leaf and stowed away in
his bosom, guarding it with the most jealous care. Upon it depended
his hopes for the success of his cherished scheme.
After several hours' intense thought, he decided upon his programme of
action. He would go fishing about the middle of the forenoon, giving
his wife to understand that he would be back with what he had caught in
time for dinner, so that she would rely upon him for that meal; but,
instead of doing so, he would keep out of sight until toward night, by
which time he rightly concluded his spouse and children would be so
ravenously hungry that they would devour the fish without noticing any
peculiar taste about them.
It was also necessary to place Miss Prescott on her guard against
eating them, as it would seriously inconvenience him if she should fall
into a deadly stupor at the very time when she would most need her
senses. All this was not definitively provided for until a long time
after his return to his wigwam.
The more fully to carry out his plans, Hans feigned sickness shortly
after his return, so that Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, who really had
a sort of affection for him, allowed him to remain inside, while she
busied herself with the corn-planting. This was the very opportunity
for which Hans longed, and he lost no time in improving it.
"I've see'd Oonomoo," said he, by way of introduction.
"Have you, indeed?" and the countenance of Miss Prescott became radiant
with hope.
"Yaw; see'd somebody else, too."
The deep crimson that suffused the beautiful captive's face, even to
the very temples, showed the stolid Dutchman that it was not necessary
for him to mention the other person's name.
"Yaw; see'd him, too."
"And what did he say?"
"Didn't say much, only grin and laughed. De dunderin' nigger liked to
kill me."
Miss Prescott was dumbfounded to hear her lover spoken of in this
manner.
"Why, what do you mean, my friend? Why do you speak of him in that
manner?"
"He jumped down out of a tree on top of mine head, and nearly mashed it
down lower dan my shoulders. Den he rolled round, kicked up his heels
and laughed at me."
"Of whom are you speaking? Lieutenant Can--"
"A big nigger dat called himself Cato."
"Oh, I thought--" and the embarrassed girl covered her face to hide her
confusion and disappointment.
"See'd him too," said Hans, pleasantly.
"Who?"
"Lieutenant Canfield," he whispered.
"Where is he? what did he say? when shall I see him? Oh! do not keep
me in suspense."
"De Huron Injin, him and anoder nigger am out in de woods waitin' for
de night to come, when I'm goin' for to take you out to dem."
"But Keeway--your wife?"
"Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock? Yaw, she mine frow; been
married six--seven years. Nice name dat. Know what
Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock means?"
"No, I have never heard," replied Miss Prescott, thinking it best to
humor the whims of her friend.
"It means de 'Lily dat am de Same Shape all de Way Down,' which am her.
What you ax?"
"But will your Lily allow me to depart?"
"Dat am what I'm going for to tell you. I'm going fishing purty soon,
and won't be back till de arternoon. When I come back we'll have fish
for supper. De Huron Injin give me something for to put in de fish,
dat will put mine frow and de little ones to sleep, so dat dey won't
wake up when we go out de wigwam."
"And I suppose you do not wish me to eat of them?"
"No, for you'd get to sleep too, den I shall have to carry you."
"There is no danger of my having much appetite after what you have told
me."
"Den you won't forget. Remembers dat--I t'inks I feels better."
Hans Vanderbum caught a glimpse of his amiable wife in the door of his
lodge at this moment, which was the cause of the sudden change in his
conversation. Suiting his action to his words, he arose and said:
"I t'inks I feels better, Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, and guesses I
go fishing."
"I guess you might as well."
"Mine dear frow, shust gits te line and bait, while I lights mine pipe."
His wife complied, and a few minutes later Hans Vanderbum sallied forth
fully equipped for duty. He did not forget to tell his partner several
times not to prepare dinner until his return, and she also promised
this, from some cause or other, she being in a far better humor than
usual.
The demon of mischief seemed to possess Quanonshet and Madokawandock
that day. In making his way to the "fishing-grounds," he was tripped
so often that he began to wonder what could possibly be the reason for
it. He stooped down to examine his path.
"Dat ish funny de way dat grass grows. Dat bunch on dat side has
growed over and met dat bunch on de oder side, and den dey've growed
togedder in one big knot, and den I catches mine foot under and tumbles
down. Dat ish funny for te grass to grow dat way."
The innocent man did not once suspect that his boys had anything to do
with this peculiar growth of the grass, although, had he looked behind
him, he would have seen their dirty, grinning faces as they rolled upon
the grass in ecstasies at his perplexity.
After several more tumbles, Hans Vanderbum reached his favorite log,
and crawled out like a huge turtle to the further extremity. The
exciting adventure which was before him occupied his thoughts so
constantly that the mischievous propensities of his children never once
entered his head, until the log suddenly snapped off at its trunk, and
left him struggling in the water. Reaching the land with considerable
difficulty after this second mishap, he concluded that Quanonshet and
Madokawandock were still living, and had lately visited that
neighborhood.
By noon, he had collected a goodly quantity of fish, and fearful that
if he delayed his return much longer, his wife would come in search of
him, he proceeded some distance down the bank, and concealed himself
beneath a large clump of bushes, continuing his piscatorial labors as
heretofore. His precaution proved timely and prudent, for he had
hardly ensconsed himself in his new position, when he caught a glimpse
of Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock through the branches, and shrunk
further out of sight. From his secure hiding-place, the valorous
husband watched her proceedings. He saw her brow "throned with
thunder," as she strode hastily forward, the blank, dismayed
expression, as she witnessed the destruction of his favorite perch, the
anxious haste with which she examined the shore to discover whether he
had emerged or not, the relief that lit up her countenance as she
learned the truth, and, at length, the first expression, so boding and
potent in its meaning, that he lay down on the ground and dare not look
at her again. When he cautiously raised his head, she had disappeared,
and with a sigh of relief, he resumed his line.
The slow, weary hours wore on, and finally the sun was half-way down
the horizon. Hans Vanderbum's heart gave a big throb as he started on
his return to the village. In spite of the exciting drama that was now
commencing, and in which he was to play such a prominent part, the most
vivid picture that presented itself to him was his irate wife, waiting
at the wigwam to pounce upon him, and he could not force the dire
consequences of his temerity from his mind.
Slowly and tremblingly he approached the lodge, but saw none of its
inmates. The profound silence filled him with an ominous misgiving.
He paused and listened. Not a breath was audible. He stepped softly
forward and cautiously peered in. He saw Miss Prescott apparently
asleep in one corner, and his wife trimming the fire. Hans hesitated a
moment, and no pen can describe or artist depict the shivering horror
with which he stepped within the lodge. His heart beat like a
trip-hammer, and when his wife lifted her dark eyes upon him, he nearly
fainted from excess of terror. Great was his amazement, therefore,
when, instead of rebukes and blows, she came smilingly forward and
asked:
"Has my husband been sick?"
That question explained everything. Believing him to be sick, her
feelings were not of wrath, but of solicitude. Hans wiped the
perspiration from his forehead and, hardly conscious of what he was
doing, replied:
"B'lieves I didn't feel very much well--kinder empty in de stomach as
dough I'd like to have dinner."
"You shall have it at once."
Now, to insure the success of Hans Vanderbum's plans, it was necessary
that he should cook the fish, in order that he might find opportunity
to mix the gum with it; but the wife, out of pure kindness refused to
allow this. He was taken all aback at this unfortunate slip in his
programme. By resorting again to intense thought, he hit upon an
ingenious plan to outwit her, even at this disadvantage. The children
needed no commands to remain out doors.
The food was nicely cooking, when Hans started up as if alarmed.
"What's the matter?" inquired his wife.
"I t'inks I hears some noise outside. Hadn't you better goes out, my
dear, good, kind Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, and see vot it is?"
The obliging woman instantly darted forward, and Hans proceeded to his
task with such trembling eagerness that there was danger of its
failure. First flattening the gum between his thumb and finger, he
dropped it upon one of the fish, where it instantly dissolved like
butter. He was busy stirring this, when his partner entered.
"Good man," said she; "kind to Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock."
Hans Vanderbum felt as if he were the greatest monster upon earth thus
to deceive his trusting wife, and there was a perceptible tremor in his
voice, as he replied:
"I will tends to de fish."
He saw that the gum had united thoroughly with the food, and then with
a flushed face, he resigned his place to his wife. The dinner, or more
properly the supper, was soon completed, when Hans concluded that he
was too unwell to eat anything. The squaw was somewhat surprised when
Miss Prescott, after being awakened from a feigned sleep, turned her
head away from the tempting food in disgust.
"You sick too?" she asked.
"No--no--no," shutting her eyes and turning her back upon her.
"I wouldn't coax her to eat, my good, dear frow," said Hans. "Let de
little Dutchmen eat it; dey're hungry enough."
In answer to a shrill call, Quanonshet and Madokawandock came tumbling
in, and fell upon the food like a couple of wolves. After two or three
mouthfuls they stopped and smacked their lips as if there was something
peculiar in the taste of their fish, and Hans' heart thumped as he saw
the mother do the same. To forestall any inquiries, he remarked that
he had caught the fish in another portion of the stream, and perhaps
they might taste bitter, but he guessed "dey was all right." This
satisfied them, and in a few minutes more there was nothing left but a
few bones. Thus far all went well.
As the sun descended in the western sky, and the magnificent American
twilight gathered upon the forest and river, the excited Hans Vanderbum
could scarcely conceal his impatience and anxiety. Never before, since
his marriage, had he been in such a predicament, and never again, he
hoped, would he feel the misery that was now torturing him. Time
always passes wearily to the watcher. It seemed an age to him ere the
sun slipped down behind the wilderness out of sight. At length,
however, the dusk of early evening enveloped the lodge, and shortly
after Quanonshet and Madokawandock came in, and dropping down fell
almost immediately asleep.
To expedite matters, Hans Vanderbum feigned slumber, but he kept one
eye upon the movements of his wife. He marked her listless, absent
air, and he could scarcely conceal his joy when she stretched herself
in front of the door, without speaking or ordering him to lie beside
her, as was her usual custom. Five minutes later, she was as
unconscious as though she were never to wake again. To make "assurance
doubly sure," he waited full half an hour without moving. Then he
raised his head, and called in a whisper to Miss Prescott:
"I say dere."
"Well! what is it?" she responded, rising.
"You ishn't ashleep bees you?"
"No, I am ready."
"Well, I guesses it bees purty near times."
"Are they all sound asleep--your Lily and children?"
"Yaw, dey's won't wake if you pound 'em."
"Would it not be best to take a look outside and see whether there is
any danger of our being discovered?"
"Yaw--I finks so."
In passing out, Hans trod upon the outstretched arm of his wife, but
her sleep was so sound that she did not awaken. The situation of the
lodge was such that all the Shawnees visible were upon one side of it,
so that the chances of discovery were comparatively slight, if the
least precaution was used. Appearing at the entrance of the wigwam,
without entering, he motioned for the captive to come out. She arose,
stepping cautiously and carefully, and when she found herself in the
open air once more, with the cool night-wind blowing upon her fevered
cheek, she almost fainted from excessive emotion.
"Come, now, walks right behind me, and if you sees--dunder and blixen!
dere comes an Injin!"
The girl had caught a glimpse of two shadowy figures, and without
thought, she did the wisest possible thing for her to do under the
circumstances. Springing back within the lodge, she reseated herself
beyond the form of her prostrate sentinel, and waited for them to pass.
"How do you do, brother?" asked one of them, in the Shawnee tongue, as
they halted. "How gets along our prisoner?"
"Pretty good; she is in de lodge."
"She is safe in the hands of Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, but I will
look in." The savage stepped to the entrance and merely glanced
inside. The darkness was so great that he saw nothing but the figure
of the squaw before him, and he and his companion passed on. The
captive waited until she was sure they were beyond sight and hearing,
and then she stepped forth again.
"Let us hurry," said she, eagerly. "There may be others near."
"Yaw, but don't push me over on mine nose."
"Oh! if she awakes, or we are seen!"
"She won't do dat. She shleeps till morning, and bimeby I shleeps too,
and won't wake up afore she does."
"Be careful, be careful, my good friend, and do not linger so," said
the girl, nearly beside herself with excitement, "and let us stop
talking."
"Yaw, I bees careful! I ain't talking. It bees you all de time dat is
making de noise. I knows better dan for to make noise, when dey might
hear. Doesn't you fink I does?"
"Yes, yes, yes."
"I'm glad dat you t'inks so. I knowed a gal once; she was a good 'eal
like you; Annie Stanton was her name; she had a feller dat was a good
'eal like de Lieutenant, and dey didn't t'ink I knowed much, but dey
found dey was mistaken. Don't you b'lieve dey did?"
"Yes, yes--but you are talking all the while."
"Dat ish so--I doesn't talk no more."
Finally, the impression reached the brain of Hans Vanderbum that he was
making rather more noise than was prudent, and he resolutely sealed his
lips--so resolutely that, being compelled to breathe through his
nostrils, Miss Prescott feared that the noise thus made was more
dangerous than had been his indulgence in conversation. She endeavored
to warn him, but he firmly refused to hear, waddling ahead, his huge
form stumbling and lumbering forward like a young elephant just
learning to walk. The moon being directly before them, his massive
shoulders were clearly outlined against the sky, when the woods were
open enough to permit an unobstructed entrance to its light. A dozen
yards from the wigwam, and the two were clear of the Shawnee village,
their only danger being from any wandering Indian whom they might
chance to meet. They had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile, when the
captive's heart nearly stopped beating as she saw the hand of a savage
outlined against the sky. As she observed that he was steadily
approaching, she halted and was debating whether or not to dart off in
the woods, and depend upon herself for safety, when Hans spoke:
"Dat you, Oonomoo?"
"Yeh--'tis me." The quick eye of the Huron had caught a glimpse of the
girl behind the Dutchman, and he now came up and addressed her:
"Is my friend 'fraid?"
"No, no; thank Heaven! is that you, my good, kind Oonomoo?" asked the
girl, reeling forward, until sustained by the gentle grasp of the
Indian.
"Yeh--me take care of you. Here somebody else--t'ink he know how
better--guess like him, too." She caught a glimpse of another form as
the savage spoke in his jesting manner. She needed nothing more to
assure her of its identity. Lieutenant Canfield came forward, and
placing one arm around her waist, and drawing her fervently to him, he
said:
"Oh! my _dear_ Mary, I am so glad to see you again. Are you unharmed?"
"Not a hair of my head has been injured. And how is my dear father and
mother and sister Helen?"
"Your father was perfectly well and in good spirits when I left him a
few days since, and as he knows nothing of this calamity, there is no
reason for believing it is any different with him. Your mother and
sister I think know nothing of this, although I fear their
apprehensions must be excited."
"I trust I shall soon be with them, and oh! I pray----"
"I's gettin' shleepy," suddenly exclaimed Hans Vanderbum.
"Take gum?"
"Yaw; took much as Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock."
"Git sleep soon--go back--don't wake up."
"Yaw, I will." And before any one could speak, Hans was lumbering
through the bushes and woods on his way back to his lodge, fearful that
if he delayed he would fall asleep. It was the wish of Lieutenant
Canfield to thank him for his kindness to his betrothed, and the
latter, very grateful for his honest friendship, intended to assure him
of it, but his hasty exit prevented.
The gum of which Hans Vanderbum had partaken, began soon to have a
perceptible effect. He stumbled forward against the bushes and trees,
blinking and careless of what he did, until he reached the door of his
wigwam. Here he summoned all his energies, and, stepping carefully
over his wife, lay down beside her, and almost immediately was asleep.
As might be expected, the wife was the first to awaken. So profound
had been her sleep that the forenoon of the next day was fully half
gone before she opened her eyes, and then it required a few minutes to
regain entire possession of her faculties. Looking around, she saw the
inanimate forms of her children, and close beside her the unconscious
Hans Vanderbum, and, horror of horrors, the captive was gone! She was
now thoroughly awakened. With a shrill scream she sprung to her feet.
Giving her husband several violent kicks, and shouting his name, she
ran outside to arouse the Shawnees, and set them upon the track, if it
was not already too late. Hans opened one eye, and, seeing how matters
stood, he shut it again, to ruminate upon the story he should tell to
the pressing inquiries of his friends, and, in a few minutes, he had
prepared everything to his satisfaction. Five minutes later he heard a
dull thumping upon the ground, and the next minute the lodge was filled
with Shawnees. Sharp yells--the signals of alarm--could be heard in
every quarter, even as far distant as the river. All seemed centering
toward one spot. In answer to repeated shoutings, and kicks, and
twitches of the hair, Hans opened his big, blue eyes, and stared around
him with an innocent, wondering look.
"Where's the girl? Where's the pale-faced captive?" demanded several,
including his wife.
"Ober dere; (pointing to her usual resting-place; and then, discovering
her absence) no, dunder and blixen, she isn't."
"You helped her away in the night. We saw you when the moon was up
standing in the lodge." His accuser was the Indian who had peered into
the lodge the night before.
"Mine Gott! dat Huron, Oonomoo, has got her!" The name of the famous
scout was familiar to all, and called forth a general howl of fury.
Understanding that it was expected he should give some explanation, he
said: "I see'd de Injin last night, and he gived me something dat he
said I musht eat and mix wid my fish. I done so, and it made me, and
Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, and Quanonshet and Madokawandock go to
shleep, and shust now we wakes up and de gal ain't here!"
This brief, concise statement was generally believed, all knowing the
trustful, verdant nature of the Dutchman, and there was a general
clearing of the wigwam, for the purpose of ascertaining which direction
the Huron had taken; but they met with no success, as the woods were so
thoroughly trodden by numerous feet, that it was impossible to
distinguish any particular trail. One or two Shawnees, however, were
not satisfied with what Hans had said, and, after making several more
inquiries, they remarked:
"Oonomoo, the Huron, is a brave Indian, but could not enter the Shawnee
lodges unless the door was opened from within. Our white brother----"
Hans' wife sprung up like a catamount, whose young were attacked. "You
say my brave Hans let her go, eh? My brave warriors, I will show you,"
she exclaimed, springing at them in such a perfect fury that they tore
out of the wigwam and were seen no more.
"My _dear_ Hans."
"My _dear, good_ Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock! de same shape all de
way down."
And the loving wife and husband embraced with all the fervor of
youthful lovers. And locked thus together, trusting, contented and
happy, we take our final leave of them.