It was during the short spring of the North American continent, which so
suddenly breaks into perfect summer, that a camp might have been seen
pitched on the side of the bank of a broad and rapid river. The spot
selected for the camp formed a bay of the river, or it might be called a
nook in the bank. It appeared to have been chosen for the purpose of
concealment: for only from one point on the opposite bank could it be
seen, while above it was completely sheltered by the thick growth of
trees which fringed each side of the river. From the conical shape of
the skin-covered tents, the accoutrements of the steeds tethered near,
the dog-sleds, for carrying goods and provisions, and the people
standing or sitting about, it would have been known at once to be a
Sioux encampment. On a nearer inspection, however, several points of
difference would have been discovered. In front of one of the tents sat
two old men whose complexion showed that they were not Indians, while
the dress of one of them was that of a civilised man. Several young
women and girls were busily preparing the evening meal, some young men
were bringing them a supply of fire-wood and water, while others were
engaged in fishing in the river. Several, both of the young men and
girls, had complexions much lighter than those of Indians, though
others, from their dark colour, were evidently of the native race. They
seemed to be fearless of interruption; indeed, they probably relied on
due notice of danger being given them by their scouts or sentries, who
were watching from some of the more elevated spots in the neighbourhood.
One of the old men had been reading to the other from the Bible. He
closed the sacred volume--"Let us thank God, old friend, that within a
week we may hope once more to be among our Christian countrymen, and be
able to join with them in His worship and praise, and to thank Him for
His loving mercy to us," said Robert Nixon. "For my part I have only
one desire: to recover my boys and yours, and to see them be longing to
Christ's flock."
"Ah, Bill!" Tom always called his friend by that name, "I, too, should
like to see the day; but it's far off, I fear. But I hope they'll go to
Heaven somehow." This conversation was interrupted by a loud cry of
alarm from the young women of the party; and, looking up, they saw a
dozen redskin warriors, who had just issued from among the trees on the
summit of the bank above them. Several had rifles, others were armed
only with bows. They were in the act of taking aim with their weapons
when Nixon saw them. Forgetting the native language in his agitation,
he shouted out to them, in English, to desist. They hesitated. Some of
the girls took the opportunity of rushing off to seek for shelter behind
the trees. Tom went into the tent for his gun. Nixon advanced towards
the Indians, whom he perceived to be Crees, the mortal enemies of the
Dakotahs. His daughter, believing him to be in danger, instead of
running for shelter, like her companions, flew after him. Old Tom
re-appeared at the moment with his rifle. The Crees, believing that
resistance was about to be offered, fired. Their powder or weapons were
bad: some did not go off, the bullets, generally, flew wide, but one,
alas! took effect. It was in the bosom of Rob Nixon's daughter. Her
cry made him turn round, and, forgetting all else, he caught her in his
arms as she was sinking to the ground. Before the savages had time to
re-load, and as they were about to rush down the hill, scalping-knife in
hand, to complete their cruel work, they were set upon by an equal
number of Sioux, who sprang so suddenly on them from behind that not one
of them had time to use his weapon in self-defence. A desperate
struggle ensued, each man trying to pin his antagonist to the ground.
Two Crees, desperately wounded, lay fainting from loss of blood. Tom,
climbing up the hill, still further turned the balance in favour of the
Sioux. The Sioux were, Tom perceived, of his own party. They had been
warned by one of their scouts that an enemy was at hand, and without
disturbing the rest of the camp had gone out to intercept them. They
had, however, missed them, but again discovering their trail, had
followed close in their rear, though not fast enough to prevent the
unhappy catastrophe which had occurred.
The struggle was fierce and desperate. Neither party expected any mercy
from the victors. Three of the Crees were killed, and this releasing
three of the Sioux party, aided by old Tom, the latter were able to
assist their companions. Their aim was, however, not to kill. The
Crees were quickly disarmed, and being bound, stood expecting the usual
fate of the vanquished. At a signal from Nixon they were led down the
bank to where he knelt by the side of his daughter, in vain attempting
to staunch the life-blood streaming from her wound. "Father!" she
whispered; "I am leaving you. I feel death coming, but I am happy, for
I know One powerful to save is ready to receive me. I would have lived
to have comforted you, but I believe my prayers are heard, and that my
brother will yet be restored to you." She was silent for some time;
then her eyes, opening, fell on the prisoners as they stood bound on the
top of the bank, and she continued: "I have but one petition to make.
It is that those ignorant men may not be punished. They followed but
the ways of their people, and thought not of the wicked act they were
doing. I would speak to them." In a faint voice the dying girl
addressed the prisoners, and urged them to listen to the words her
father would speak to them, adding: "Truly do I forgive you, and may you
find forgiveness from the Great Good Spirit whom you know not." It
would be difficult to describe the astonishment of the Crees when they
found that not only were they not to undergo torment before being
killed, but that they were actually freely pardoned. After consulting
for some time, one of them, who appeared to be the leader, stepped
forward and said:--"We have heard that there are praying men among the
pale-faces, but that their praying made their people different to us we
did not know, for most of the things we do they do; they fight with each
other and with us, they drive us from our lands, they cheat us when
trading, they shoot us without pity whenever they catch us, and they
bring disease and death among us, so that, though once we were numerous
as the stones which strew the prairie lands of the Dakotahs, now we can
count our people while the sun rests at its mid-day height in the sky.
Such was our notion of the pale-faces, but you have given us a different
notion. Though we have done you a great injury, though our weapons have
cruelly cut down one who is surely the most lovely of the flowers of the
prairie, instead of slaying us, you forgive us; she too, even, not only
forgives us, but prays to the Great Spirit for us. Our minds are
astonished; our hearts are softened, melted within us. We would be your
friends, and we wish to prove it. We know the pale-faces who dwell
towards the rising of the sun, and we will accompany you on your way to
them, and guard you from further attacks. You doubt us. You fear
treachery. You are wise. We will prove that we are honest. Some moons
past, ere the snows of winter had covered the ground, our tribe was
assailed by a party of Dakotah braves. We had notice of their coming,
and had an ambush prepared for them. Among them we discerned three whom
we knew by their colour to be the children of the pale-faces. We judged
that they had been carried off when young, and we hoped to obtain a
reward by restoring them to their parents or countrymen, our friends.
The Dakotahs we slew, but, though they fought desperately and were much
wounded, we succeeded in saving the three young men alive. We could not
then travel with them, so we kept them in our lodges while the snow
remained. We were on our way to the east with them when, in our folly,
we resolved to attack your camp. Our prisoners we left with a small
number of our band who are but a short way from this."
"Oh! bring them--haste!--haste!" exclaimed the wounded girl, alone
divining who they were of whom the Cree spoke; "I would see my brother
ere I die. I have much--much to say to him."
Anxious to gratify his daughter, and satisfied that the Cree chief spoke
the truth, and would not prove treacherous, Robert Nixon allowed two of
his followers, known as fleet of foot, to hasten to his camp to bring in
the young men spoken of, having no doubt that his own son, and his
friend's two sons, were the prisoners spoken of. Meantime, it appeared
doubtful whether the dying girl would survive till their arrival. While
the rest of the party stood round grieving, she reclined in her father's
arms, occasionally whispering a few words of comfort in his ear, and
assuring him of her happiness. At length she lifted up her head in the
attitude of listening. Her quick ear had caught the sound of
approaching footsteps, even before the rest of the party. It was some
time before any one appeared. "I knew it--I knew it--my brother!" she
cried out, as several young men, running at full speed, burst from among
the trees at the top of the bank. One of them, who was leading, taking
a hurried glance around, rushed down, and, with an expression in which
surprise and grief were mingled, threw himself by her side. She took
his hand, and strange to his ear were the communications she made.
Another of the youths approached her. She gave him her other hand, and
turned her countenance towards him as she did so. "I was the cause of
your going on that expedition. I was ignorant, dark-minded, wicked. I
knew well that you loved me. I know it now; but, oh! listen to my
father. He will tell you of One who loves you far more than I could do,
whose love will make ample amends for the loss of mine; and then we may
meet in the realms of happiness, to dwell for ever and ever together."
To the young heathen this language was an enigma. Ere it was solved,
the speaker had ceased to breathe. "The Lord's will be done!" said the
old hunter: and those who knew how he loved his child understood what a
mighty change religion had wrought in his heart. They buried her in
that secluded spot, beneath the green turf, on which she had lately trod
so full of life and beauty; and those who had loved her, and their late
foes, assisted to raise a monument, of materials furnished by the river
bed and the surrounding trees, above her tomb.
Rob Nixon and all the party reached the settlements in safety. He
mourned as a father for his daughter, but his mourning was full of hope.
Her dying words were not thrown away on her brother, or on his
companions. Before long, they were all baptised, and admitted to the
privileges and blessings of Christ's church. When the father knelt at
the Lord's table, for the first time after his daughter's death, and
thought of the dead for whom thanks had been given, because they had
died in Christ's faith and fear, he felt that his beloved daughter had
not died in vain. He declared that he had not been preserved from so
many and great dangers of body and spirit, to lead a life of idleness,
and while life remained, he never wearied in striving to bring others to
a knowledge of Him, whom he had found to be so precious to his own soul.