And with him thousand phantoms joined
Who prompt to deeds accursed the mind,
And those the fiends who, near allied,
O'er Nature's wounds and wrecks preside;
While Vengeance, in the lurid air,
Lifts his right arm, exposed and bare.
COLLINS.
Ohquamehud, with all his burning passion for revenge, dared not
undertake anything against his enemy, in opposition to the commands of
the Manito. After the signal interposition, as he conceived it to
be, in favor of Holden at the cabin of the latter, he thought it not
prudent to renew the attempt at the same place. The terror of that
moment was too deeply impressed to allow him to hazard its repetition.
But the power of that Manito might not extend elsewhere, and there
were other Manitos who, perhaps, were more powerful, and might be more
propitious. He would endeavor to conciliate one of them, and so arrive
at the accomplishment of his wishes.
It has been observed that the falls of the Yaupáae were a favorite
place of resort for the Solitary. Especially at this season of the
year (for it was now the delicious month of June, the loveliest of the
twelve) did he love to haunt its neighborhood. There was something
in the wild scenery, in the dash and tumult of the water, and in
its ceaseless shout, that harmonized well with his feelings in their
various moods. His was a grand soul, and felt itself allied to the
grandeur of nature. As the air, driven through the pipes of a mighty
organ, issues out in solemn concords and divine harmonies, of power to
lift the spirit on wings of cherubim and seraphim above "the mists of
this dim spot which men call earth" and recall its contemplations to
its heavenly origin, so these sights and sounds, playing through
the soul of the Solitary, chased away whatever would clog its upward
flight, soothing while they elevated, and bridging over the chasm that
separates the lower from the upper spheres. This habit of Holden was
well known to the Indian, for he had often seen the Solitary musing on
a rock that overhung the falls. The retirement of the place, likewise,
was favorable to the purpose of an assassin. It was seldom in those
days, except tempted by its romance, that a person visited the
spot. There were other reasons, also, that had an influence over the
superstitious mind of the Indian, in determining his choice.
A child of nature, cradled in her wild bosom and reared in her arms,
he, too, felt her awful charms. He could not listen to the voice of
the majestic torrent, or gaze upon the grey rocks without a reverent
admiration. And in proportion to this feeling was his awe of the
Manito who presided over the scene. How prodigious must be His power!
The irresistible sweep of the cataract resembled his strength; its
roar, his voice; and the hoary rocks were indicative of his age. Could
he obtain the favor of so mighty a Being--could he induce him to aid
his design, it could be easy of execution. He would make the trial. He
would approach him with offerings, and acquaint him with his wishes.
The Genius of the Fall ought not to love the white man. The pale faces
never offered him gifts, while the red men, long before the arrival of
the fatal stranger and since, had covered the shores with presents.
He would not be disregardful or turn a deaf ear to one of his children
who sought a just revenge.
Animated by these considerations and such hopes, Ohquamehud left the
hut of Esther on the afternoon of the following day, to propitiate the
Manito of the Falls. His way led through the wood, along the margin
of the Severn for a few miles and then crossed the high-road and some
open fields and another belt of woods, before he reached the Yaupáae.
Arrived at his destination, he looked with a solemn air around as if
half expecting to see the Genius of the place. But he beheld nothing,
save the wild features of nature, and the moss-grown roof of the old
mill, almost hid by the intervening trees: he heard no sound except
the uninterrupted roaring of the torrent. In the hot rays of that
June sun, not even the birds emitted a note, waiting under their leafy
shelters in the darkest recesses of the woods, until the pleasant
coolness of approaching evening should tempt them out and reawaken
their songs. The Indian, seeing that no one was in sight, commenced
collecting brush and sticks of dry wood that lay about, which he
heaped up into a pile upon a rock close to the water's edge. After he
had gathered together a quantity that appeared to him sufficient, he
selected from the stones lying around, a couple of flints which seemed
fittest for his purpose, and by striking them violently together,
soon succeeded in producing a shower of sparks, which falling on the
thoroughly dried and combustible matter, instantly set it on fire,
and shot a tongue of flame into the air. Reverently then inclining
his body towards the cataract, as in an attitude of supplication,
Ohquamehud addressed the Manito, and explained his wishes. He spoke
with dignity, as one who, though standing in the presence of a
superior, was not unmindful of his own worth. The sounds at first were
those of lamentation, so low as scarcely to be audible, and plaintive
and sweet as the sighs of the wind through the curled conch shell.
"Oh Manito," he said, "where are thy children, once as plenty as the
forest leaves? Ask of the month of flowers for the snows that 'Hpoon
scatters from his hand, or of the Yaupáae for the streams he pours
into the great Salt Lake. The sick-skinned stranger, with hair like
the curls of the vine, came from the rising sun. He was weak as a
little child: he shivered with the cold: he was perishing with hunger.
The red man was strong: he wrapped himself in bear skins and was warm;
he built his wigwam of bark, and defied the storm, and meat was plenty
in his pot. He pitied the dying stranger; he brought him on his back
out of the snow, and laid him by the fire; he chafed his limbs and
clothed him in furs; he presented venison with his own hands, and the
daughters of the tribes offered honey and cakes of maize, and wept for
compassion. And the pale face saw that our land was better than his
own, and he envied us, and sent messengers to his people to come and
strip us of our heritage. Then they came as the flights of pigeons in
the spring, innumerable: in multitudes as the shad and salmon, when
they ascend the thawed rivers. They poisoned the air with their
breaths, and the Indians died helpless in the pestilence. They made
war upon us, and drove us from our cornfields; they killed our old
men, and sent away our young men and maidens into slavery. O, Manito,
thus hath the accursed pale faces requited our kindness.
"Wast thou displeased with the red men O, Manito? Had the children of
the Forest offended thee, that thou didst deliver them into the hand
of their enemies? See, what thine inconsiderate anger hath done. Thou
hast destroyed us, and injured thyself. Where are the offerings that
once covered these rocks, the bears' meat and the venison, the
wampum, the feathers of the eagle, and sweet-smelling tobacco? Who now
honoreth the Manito of the loud voiced Yaupáae? I listen, but I hear
no answer."
Thus far the voice of Ohquamehud was low and melancholy, as the wail
of a broken heart, and his face sad, as of one lamenting for a friend,
but now it changed to a loftier expression, and the words were hissed
out with a guttural roughness, without being spoken much louder.
"O, Manito!" he continued, "I alone am left to offer thee the
sacrifice of the fragrant tobacco. Behold! I will fill thy pipe many
times if thou wilt assist me. Onontio hath done me much mischief. He
hath burned the villages of my people, and slain our warriors. Why
shouldst thou favor him? Is he not a dog which thou wilt kick away
from the door of thy lodge? He cometh, sometimes, and sitteth upon the
highest rock, to look down upon thy dwelling-place. It is to nourish
the pride of his heart. It is to exult that, as far as his eye can
see, it beholds no wigwam, nor one bringing thee gifts. Help Manito!
Think upon thine own wrongs,--remember the sufferings of the red man,
and give me the scalp of Onontio. Accept my offering."
Having thus spoken, and conciliated by every means that occurred to
his untutored mind, the good-will of the tutelary Spirit of the Falls,
recounting the generosity of the Indians, and the ingratitude of the
whites, remonstrating with the Manito for his supposed anger, and
pointing out its folly, trying to stimulate his indignation on account
of the neglect of himself, and, to tempt his love of presents by
promises, Ohquamehud threw a quantity of tobacco in the leaf, which
the Indians were accustomed to raise themselves around their cabins,
into the flames. But an incident took place, which, for a time,
dashed his hopes to the ground, and covered him with mortification and
confusion.
The day, as we have already intimated, was unusually hot, even for the
month of June. As the hours advanced, a sultry and slumbrous silence
filled the air, which quivered with the heat. Clouds began to collect
in the northwest, and to roll up higher and higher towards the zenith,
in immense waves, which darkened momently, until half the heavens
seemed covered with a pall. The lightning began to play more
frequently over the surging blackness, and the mutterings of the
thunder became every instant louder. Ohquamehud was not altogether
unaware of the approaching storm, but, engaged in the solemn rite, the
appearances of the clouds had not attracted as much of his attention
as otherwise they would have done. At the instant he threw the tobacco
into the fire, the blackness of the clouds was intensest, and a grim
silence, as if nature were waiting in anxious expectation of some
grand event, brooded over the earth interrupted only by the shout of
the cataract; then, a thunderbolt blazed almost in the eyes of the
Indian, followed, instantly, by a crash, as if the solid rocks were
splintered into fragments, and by a torrent of rain, pouring, not
in drops, but, in one continuous flood. For a few moments, the rain
continued falling violently, then gradually slackened and ceased. The
lightning glittered less frequently; the threatenings of the thunder
became less distinct, and the clouds rolled up their dark standards
and dispersed, disappearing in the depths of the unfathomable sky.
The Indian, meanwhile, remained immovable, staring at the fire in
which the rain hissed as it fell. Thus, like a statue, he stood, until
the storm had rolled away; then, recovering from his stupefaction, he
turned, despondingly, from the heap of ashes. His offering, then, had
been rejected. The Manito either could not or would not assist him.
Onontio bore a charmed life. He was a great medicine, beyond the power
of his vengeance. Ohquamehud, with a frown upon his brow, dark as the
folds of the departing clouds, strode several steps from the rock,
when, turning, as if struck by a sudden thought, he commenced
searching in the ashes. The surface, of course, was soaked; but, as
he penetrated deeper, they were drier, and at the bottom he found
unextinguished coals. He carefully searched round, to discover if
any portion of the tobacco was unconsumed, but could find none. The
offering had not, then, been rejected. The Manito had accepted it.
It was not he who sent the storm. Perhaps, some other Manito, who,
however, was unable to defeat the sacrifice. The countenance of
Ohquamehud brightened, and he began again to collect the brush
and scattered sticks. From hollows, in the butts of old trees, and
recesses under projecting cliffs, he succeeded in finding enough dry
fuel to start the fire anew, and soon it shot up a bright bold flame
as before. "O, Manito!" he softly said, "thou art not angry--receive
my gift." Again, he threw tobacco into the fire, and, this time, no
portent interposed. The greedy flame seized upon the dry leaves, which
crackled in the heat, and bore them on its shining billows high into
the air. The fire continued burning till all was consumed, and the
heap sent up only a spiral of indistinct smoke.
The importunity of Ohquamehud had wrung from the Genius the consent
which he solicited. The gratified Indian stretched out his hand, and
again spoke--
"O, Manito, thanks! The heart of Ohquamehud is strong. When he
journeys towards the setting sun, his feet shall bound like those of a
deer, for the scalp of Onontio will hang at his girdle."
He glided into the woods and disappeared, ignorant that any one had
been a witness of his actions. But, Quadaquina, from an evergreen
thicket, had watched all his motions. As the form of Ohquamehud became
dimmer in the distance, the boy could not repress his exultation at
the success of his ambush, but gave it vent in a whistle, imitating
the notes of the whipperwill. It caught the ear of the Indian, and he
turned, and as he did so, the boy threw himself on the ground. The sun
had hardly set. It was too early for the bird to be heard, which never
commences his melancholy chant until the shades of evening are spread
over the dewy earth. The eyes of Ohquamehud sent sharp glances in the
direction whence the whistle came, but he could discern nothing. He
listened for awhile, but the sounds were not repeated, and wondering
what they could mean--for he relied too implicitly on his senses
to suppose his imagination had deceived him--he resumed his course
homeward. Presently, Quadaquina slowly rose, and, perceiving no one in
sight, followed in the same direction.
The boy, at first, walked deliberately along; but, after, as he
supposed, a considerable interval was interposed between him and the
Indian, he quickened his steps, in order to more at about the same
rate as the other. He had cleared the clumps of trees next to the
Falls, and crossed the open fields, and advanced some little distance
into the belt of continuous woods along the river, when, suddenly,
Ohquamehud, starting from behind the trunk of a large tree, stood
before him. Quadaquina's heart beat quicker, but no outward sign
betrayed emotion.
"What does a child like Quadaquina, mean by wandering so far in the
dark away from its mother?" demanded Ohquamehud.
"Quadaquina is no longer a child," answered the boy, "to need his
mother. He runs about, like a squirrel, in the woods, whenever he
please."
"Quah! He is more like a bird, and it is to take lessons from the
whipperwill, that he comes into the woods."
"Ohquamehud talks like a crow that knows not what he says."
"When next," said the Indian, with a laugh, "Quadaquina tries to be a
bird, let him remember that the bashful whipperwill likes not the sun
to hear his song."
The boy fancying that he had been discovered, and that any further
attempt at concealment was vain, answered boldly,
"It is no concern of Ohquamehud, whether Quadaquina is a bird, or a
squirel, or a fish. He will fly in the air, or swim in the water, or
run in the woods without asking permission from any one."
"And Ohquamehud is not a rabbit to be tracked by a little dog wherever
he goes. _Ahque_! (beware). He will strike the little dog if he
presses too close upon his heels." So saying, and as if to give
emphasis to his words, the Indian lightly touched the shoulders of the
boy, with a small stick which he held in his hand.
It was like lightning falling in a powder-magazine, so suddenly blazed
up the anger of Quadaquina, when he felt the touch of the rod. He
jumped back as though bitten by a snake, and snatching up a stone,
hurled it with all his strength at Ohquamehud. It was well that the
Indian leaped behind a tree near which he stood, else the missile,
with such true aim and vindictive force was it sent, might have proved
fatal. As soon as the stone was thrown, the Indian stepped up to the
boy, who stood trembling with passion, but observing no intention on
the part of the latter to renew his violence, he passed close by him,
with a contemptuous laugh, and pursued his way, Quadaquina following,
though at some distance, in his steps. The boy came into the hut of
Peéna within a short time after the entrance of the Indian, nor could
the most jealous eye have detected in either a trace of what had
happened. Ohquamehud moved with a grave dignity to the seat he usually
occupied, and his pipe presently sent grateful volumes of smoke
through the cabin. He noticed, however, that when Quadaquina came
in, his mother made no inquiry into the cause which had detained him
beyond the hour of the evening meal, and this confirmed the suspicions
that were floating in his mind. They were indeed vague, and he fancied
that if for any reason he had been watched by Quadaquina, the lesson
he had just given would intimidate the boy, and satisfy him there
would be danger in dogging the steps of one so vigilant as himself,
and who had avowed his intention to punish the offender, if he were
caught again.
Quadaquina, when they were by themselves, related to his mother what
he had witnessed at the Falls, but made no allusion to the quarrel
betwixt Ohquamehud and himself, nor of the threats of the former.
He could give no account of the address to the Manito, the distance
having been too great to allow him to hear the words. His story caused
no alarm to Peéna, inasmuch as acquainted with the superstitions of
the Indians, she ascribed the sacrifice to a desire to propitiate the
Manito, in order to secure a fortunate journey to the western tribe.