separated forever, and thus we were again parted. Going to the place
appointed, I found Blott as we had arranged, and mounting my horse we
rode away in the shadows of the night, glad to get off so easily. On
our way we stayed for supper at the Eagle's Nest, a rude tavern on the
edge of the prairie, where Constance and I had often stopped in our
wanderings about the country. Blott was in great humor at the table,
and as there were no other guests we had the place to ourselves.
"I suppose you know how this tavern got its name?" he at last spoke up,
transferring the skeleton of a prairie chicken to a second plate, and
helping himself to a quail wrapped about with thin slices of pork.
"No; how did it?" I answered, without looking up.
"Well, on the hill back of the house an eagle has her nest, or did six
years ago when we camped here for a week durin' the Black Hawk war; an'
that's how it was."
"Tell me about it--the war, I mean," I answered, my curiosity at once
excited, as it always was concerning everything that had to do with
Black Hawk.
"I've always thought the beginnin' of that trouble different from most
wars," he answered, helping himself to a couple of slices of toast.
"Tell me about it; you have time while we're finishing our supper."
"Well, once upon a time, a great while ago," he began, "there was a
beautiful Injun maiden called the Red Rose. She was the belle of the Sac
Nation, an' lived in the Injun village overlookin' the Rock an' the
Mississippi, where her people had been nigh on a hundred years. Her
eyes were like a limpid spring in the dark woods, an' all the young
warriors were her lovers, for there was none like her for modesty an'
attractive ways. She was as purty as a wild-flower, an' a great dancer,
an' fleet of foot as the coyote, an' gentle as the cooin' dove. Her
father's name was Standin' Bear, an' a fierce old warrior an' hunter he
was, but sometimes given to strong drink when greatly tempted. Well, at
that time, along about 1800, the early French settlers livin' on Cuvier
River (which is French for Copper), bein' friv'lous an' fond of dancin',
as people are now, gave a great ball, an' white women bein' scarce, the
Injuns were told to bring their squaws. So to please her, Standin' Bear
took Red Rose to the party. Whisky was plenty, as it always is at such
places, an' while Red Rose danced an' was happy, thinkin' no harm,
Standin' Bear drunk more'n he should, an' while in that state a white
man insulted his daughter in a way no one could overlook; but when
Standin' Bear sought to punish the brute, he was knocked down an'
dragged out by the scalp-lock, an' given a kick besides. This no white
man nor Injun could endure; but Standin' Bear, not havin' any redress,
waited till the man come out after the ball was over, when he fell on
him with a fierce cry an' killed him. You'll say it was murder, but it
was the Injuns' way, an' without fuss or scarin' of women. A white man
would have gone swaggerin' an' cussin' into the room an' shot the
feller, an' everybody'd said it served him right. That's the difference
between the two, an' one's as bad as the other. After he'd killed the
man, Standin' Bear fled with Red Rose to their village, travelin' day
an' night till they were safe."
"Then what happened?"
"What always happens when an Injun kills a white man," Blott went on,
pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Word was sent to the gov'nor at St.
Louis, an' soldiers were hurried off to demand Standin' Bear's
surrender. This bein' done, they took him to St. Louis, where he was to
be hung, but on the advice of Black Hawk, Quashquamme, the great chief
of the Sacs, went down to see if he couldn't save Standin' Bear, who was
some kin to him. When he got to St. Louis he found white men didn't
settle differences of that kind by acceptin' money or property outright,
as the Injuns do. While waitin' he fell in with a man named Shoto, an
old fur trader, who, knowin' the Sacs to be reliable Injuns, volunteered
to supply the chief an' his companions with what they wanted. In this
way he got the Injun in debt about two thousand dollars, for a lot of
truck hardly worthy carryin' off. Then Shoto, to get his money,
proposed that the Sacs an' Foxes sell their land to the government, an'
this is what come about in the end. It was agreed that Standin' Bear
should be freed, an' the Injuns git a sum of money every year, which, of
course, they didn't git, that bein' the government's way of treatin'
Injuns. Well, at the appointed time the prison door was thrown open an'
Standin' Bear walked out, Red Rose bein' a little way apart waitin' for
him. As he hurried toward her, an' she stood with her arms
outstretched, there was the crack of a rifle, an' Standin' Bear dropped
dead at her feet. At this she uttered a piercin' cry, an' fell beside
him. Her companions, runnin' up, carried her off, thinkin' she was
dead; an' while she come to, she was never the same as before, but sick
of mind like, an' believin' her father was come, she'd hold out her
arms, sayin': 'You didn't believe the pale faces, but I knew they'd keep
their word,' an' this the poor thing would repeat over an' over a
thousand times a day, smilin' an' holdin' out her hands plaintive-like.
When she got some strength, Standin' Bear's companions took his body an'
Red Rose in their canoes an' carried them to the Injun village, where,
as I said, the two rivers, the tumblin' Rock an' the Mississippi join
their waters; an' here they buried the old chief with the dead of his
tribe. So you see the whites kept their word about freein' Standin'
Bear, an' broke it, too."
"I should say so, and with a vengeance!" I cried, ashamed that my race
should do so treacherous a thing. "Then what happened?"
"Nothin', for he was only an Injun."
"Did that bring on the war?"
"Yes, through the debt of old Shoto's and the treaty follerin' it."
"Why did Black Hawk allow the treaty to be made?" I asked.
"He was away huntin' when it was signed, an' didn't know about it. That
was always the way, though. When the Injuns was to be tricked it was
done when he was off on a hunt, for he never was fuddled with liquor,
an' stood up for the rights of his people."
"He ought not to have gone off hunting," I answered, with some
impatience.
"That was their way, an' carried on systematic-like, an' not as we do,
for play," Blott answered, helping himself to another quail.
"How was that?" I asked.
"After the Injuns had buried their corn and punkins an' other truck,
they went off to the west on their fall and winter hunt, takin' five or
six hundred horses an' two or three hundred canoes."
"That was an army."
"Yes; an' they often had to fight, too, with their enemies, the Sioux,
an' other Injuns. They was gone all winter, returnin' in time to plant
their corn, bringin' with them dried meat, sellin' their furs to the
traders. After the plantin' was done they went off agin in July on a
great buffalo-hunt on the Iowa plains. So you see huntin' with them
wasn't like it is with us, but a regular business. Try some of this
ham, Gilbert; it's sweeter'n honey. No! Why, you haven't any more
appetite than a housefly!" Blott exclaimed, helping himself to a
delicate morsel. "Well, where was I? Oh, yes. Much ill-feelin'
resulted from the trick sale of the Injun lands, as you may imagin', an'
the whites made more fuss than the others, as people always do when
they've done anything they're ashamed of. There wasn't nothin' like
war, though, till one day in 1830, twenty-six years after the ball, an'
when Red Rose had long been dead an' buried beside her father on the
banks of the purlin' Rock. Then Black Hawk bein' off huntin' agin, the
whites took possession of the Injun village an' burned it. They didn't
need the ground more'n they did the moon, for there was enough for all,
and more, but they was crazy to git rid of the Injuns, an' wouldn't wait
nor live up to the agreement they'd made. Finally Black Hawk, for the
sake of peace, consented to move his tribe over into Iowa; but there
wasn't enough game there, it bein' the Sioux country, an' the ground
bein' unplowed they couldn't raise corn, so before plantin' time he come
over into Illinois, bringin' his women an' children, to raise a crop to
keep his people from starvin'. An' it was this comin' that brought on
the war."[*]
Our supper being over, Blott brought his story of the Black Hawk war to
an end, and the horses being ready, we mounted without loss of time, and
hurried forward on our journey.
Mr. and Mrs. Blake were greatly surprised at my coming, as you may
imagine, but their pleasure was only the more on that account, they
said. This I could not help but believe, for both of them did all they
could to make me feel I was welcome and at home. Blott did not stop,
but hurried away; and as it was late, Mrs. Blake shortly after showed me
to the room her son had occupied, saying it was mine now and always
would be. Bidding her good night, I threw myself on the bed, and when
at last I fell asleep, it was to dream of Standing Bear and Red Rose,
which latter appeared sometimes as an Indian maiden, but more often as
my own true love, Constance.
[*] It has been calculated by those curious in such matters that the
consideration the Indians received under the treaty referred to by
Blott--if the amount agreed upon had really been paid, which it was
not--amounted to less than one cent for each two hundred and twenty-five
acres of land relinquished. In this connection it is a curious thing and
pathetic even in Indian annals, that in the case of the great chief
Black Hawk persecution should not have ended even with his life. For
shortly after his death in 1838--at the age of seventy-one years--his
grave was opened by a vandal white and the body stolen, and with it his
medals, sword, jewelry, and other decorations. Black Hawk's sons,
discovering the crime, recovered the body and had it reinterred, but
only to have the grave again opened, and the body stolen a second time.
Thus the great man, harassed throughout life, failed to find a
resting-place even in death, his body being moved hither and thither,
his bones at last finding a place of lodgment--to be stared at by the
gaping crowd--in the Burlington (Iowa) Geographical and Historical
Society; and only, in the end, to find rest in oblivion through the
fortunate happening of a great fire in 1855---THE AUTHOR.
*CHAPTER XXXIV*
*GLIMPSE OF A SUMMER SEA*
When I awoke the next morning the yellow sunlight streamed into my
window, as if to be first to make known the presence of a friend.
Looking out, the blue sky, contemplative and mild, smiled upon me, and
as if some other presence dwelt there of like serenity, but which no
vicissitude of season or tempest could overcast. This welcome that the
heavens hold out to country people is not imaginary, but real and
sensible to the eye and heart, and its comfort and companionship make
solitude sweet to them, oftentimes to the exclusion of other and more
practical company. To all such it does not lessen the fellowship of the
clouds that they are but storehouses of wind and rain. Their movement
and change of shape make them attractive and companionable, though their
forms take flight while we look. So at night, the moon and stars tell a
story of their own, each having its office of friendship. However far
off, their brightness and steadfast ways are not mere reflections of
some distant object, but present companions, looking down in serenity,
brightening when we smile and steadfast when we grieve, awaiting us
always in their places, like friends to be found when needed. To city
people, who see such things but imperfectly from the angles of buildings
and deep-set streets, they lack these romantic attributes, but to him
who dwells in the solitude of the country they are as I say.
From the first hour, Mr. and Mrs. Blake made me feel that I shared
everything in common with them, and this in so simple a manner that it
was but a little while before I was at home and as if I had known them
always. In this way the deathly sinking of the heart we all have in
early life when first separated from those we love, I found less hard to
bear. For however much the young may stray, or however desolate their
lives, there will never come a time when they will not feel this
sickness of the heart, this pang of parting from those dear to them, as
if the breath of life were forever leaving their bodies.
After breakfast the morning following my arrival it was determined to
put aside all other things and give over the day to the pleasurable
emotions of sight-seeing. All the belongings of the Blakes they were to
show me, not grudgingly and little by little, as if of no account, but
at once and in order as become the properties of those who grow old in
contentment and honest industry. The house came first of all, and this
was different, and in most things better than others round about--if
others there could be when the nearest dwelling was miles away. Mr.
Blake being a carpenter and having some skill as an architect, and
being, moreover, of a domestic nature, had been at pains to bring from a
distance the lumber and other needed things to make his home attractive.
As if to make up for this extravagance, however, the structure was
correspondingly small, so that its rooms afforded hardly space in which
to move about. Among other things, he had been to some trouble to make
the house secure, and this because of Mrs. Blake's being much alone, so
that in some respects it was a veritable fortress. Like the pioneer
women of her day, however, she had no thought of fear any more than men
have, and lived in her home, more often alone than otherwise, contented
and happy, as Dido might have done before the new lover broke in upon
the quiet of her life.
When we had viewed the house with great particularity, and more
especially its treasures in the way of ornamentation and bits of
furniture, we passed on to the garden. Here there were many
fruit-trees, all healthful of growth and beginning to show signs of
maturity. About these, but irregularly and where the sun could reach
them, currant and gooseberry bushes added to the beauty of the place, as
well as contributed something to the comforts of the table. These
things coming more particularly within the scope of Mrs. Blake's life,
she cultivated them with this double purpose, and so skillfully that
they stood out in the autumn air as if in pride at the dual office they
thus happily filled. In respect of such things I have always thought,
as others perhaps have, that shrubs are to trees what children are to
men. Pliant and beautiful, we can do with them as we will. If cared
for, they respond with bursting foliage and brilliant hue, but if
neglected or improperly placed, their gaunt stems and shriveled leaves
cry out against the treatment we accord them.
Going to the stable, we found it a small affair, like the house, but
built wholly of logs and brush. Scattered about were other diminutive
edifices and places of retreat and refreshment for animals, and of so
great a number that they looked at a distance like a Hottentot village,
such as we see in early books of travel. About these structures, and in
the remote and secluded corners and places of vantage, chickens
congregated, singly and in numbers, and amid such a carnival of cackling
and desultory talk as I had never heard before. Running in from the
yards and edges of the forest, they crowded about Mrs. Blake with such
noisy exuberance of spirit that it was impossible to hear one's voice,
much less to think. In her, you could see, they recognized a
benefactress and friend who knew and treasured them for all and more
than they were worth. In return, it was as if they were every one
filled with expectancy of labor, and the prospect it held out to their
mistress of pin money such as no one had ever dreamed of before.
Overjoyed, I lost no time in making up to these old friends, and in this
sought out such offerings of food as I could find that came within the
scope of their appetites. For they were dainty things, and accustomed
to much refinement of fare, not regarding the coarser kinds of food with
any relish whatsoever, so long as the grasses and forest yielded a
profusion of delicate morsels in the way of succulent bugs and
relishable insects that only needed a little running and craning of the
neck to secure.
Mr. Blake's likings tended altogether to horses and cattle, and of the
former he owned a great number, though only the two he used were broken.
The others, all fine animals, I volunteered to take hold of and fit for
the saddle and harness; and this offer he hailed with pleasure when I
told him I had been accustomed to such things at Wild Plum. In this way
he would be able, he said, to market the animals, whereas now he could
hardly give them away, men being too busy to properly break them. The
appetites of these idle creatures, I soon discovered, were keen beyond
all measure of reason, as if, like idle men, they needed more than those
who worked or otherwise contributed to the common good. Of cows, the
Blakes had many and of fine form, but save the two set apart for use,
all ran wild with their calves, only the more sturdy surviving the
neglect. For it was apparent they got no attention whatever, save
grudgingly from the hired man, except as Mrs. Blake or her husband saw
their needs, and this only occasionally. My small ideas of thrift were
yet enough for me to see how little was being done to make the farm
productive. For Mr. Blake's earnings as a carpenter, it was apparent,
were used to make up his losses as a farmer, and so he was making little
or no headway, except in the rise of his land, which at best could not
be much.
However, not regarding this at all, he sought every occasion to add to
his unproductive plant. Thus, the third day after my arrival we drove
across the country to make inquiries in regard to an ass of gentle
disposition, so it was advertised, that the owner desired to sell.
Delighted with the animal, Mr. Blake bought him at sight, and everything
being arranged, we tied our purchase to the tailboard of the wagon, and
mounting to our seats, set out for home. Looking back after we had gone
some distance, great was our astonishment to see the little animal
braced on his legs and plowing the soft road with his sharp hoofs,
refusing to lift even so much as a foot. Seeing how things were, Mr.
Blake got down, and going to the animal, sought to encourage him in
every way; and being satisfied at last, mounted to his seat, when we
started forward as before. Without any better result, however;
whereupon Mr. Blake got down again and fondled the animal as if he were
a petted child. Then motioning me to go on, he followed, endeavoring,
upon further show of stubbornness, to push the brute forward, but
without any kind of success. Upon this we rested, striving meanwhile to
coax the animal with such choice bits of food as our lunch-basket and
the feed-box afforded. These bribes the ass devoured, and acceptably we
thought; but when we sought to start, Mr. Blake walking alongside,
clucking and making other demonstrations of encouragement such as should
have mollified any reasonable creature, the animal refused to budge a
foot. This I thought highly exasperating, for the day was cloudy and
raw and such as quickly chills one perched high up, as I was, and not
too warmly clad. At last, every device being without avail, Mr. Blake
motioned me to go ahead, he following on behind, much disheartened, it
was apparent, at the brute's behavior. We had, however, gone but a
little way when the donkey, striking an obstruction and refusing to bend
his legs, toppled over and fell on his side; and as he made no effort to
rise, I brought the wagon to a standstill, though reluctantly, I must
confess. After some effort we succeeded in getting him to his feet, but
going on a few yards, he fell over as before. Upon this, Mr. Blake
motioned me to go ahead, which I did somewhat briskly, out of all
patience with the brute. Soon the donkey's skin showing evidence of
wear, Mr. Blake tipped him over on the other side, I meantime driving on
without appearing to notice what he was doing. In this way both sides of
the brute were after a while worn free of hair, the hide, too, in many
places showing signs of giving way. At sight of this, Mr. Blake called
to me to halt, and together we lifted the brute to his feet, wrapping
them about with straw and pieces of cloth. In this way, and going ahead
with care, so as to avoid obstructions as much as possible, alternately
pulling and dragging the animal, we finally reached home, much worn in
body and spirit; to the very last, however, be it said, without any
outbreak of temper on Mr. Blake's part, so calm and unruffled was his
nature. The ass, not a bit the worse for his hard usage, albeit his
sides were wholly divested of skin, raised his voice in protestation
once he was in the paddock, as if Beelzebub were come again. Nor did he
cease his complaining with the going down of the sun, so that we scarce
got a wink of sleep all that night. In a week's time, however, he slept
in the warm sun beside the barn as if born upon the place; but of value
he had none whatever. This Mr. Blake did not much regard; he had the
animal, and it presented a fine appearance in the paddock, and so he was
content. Thus this obstinate animal lived on for many years, awakening
the echoes of the forest with his mighty voice, dying finally at a ripe
old age, much to his master's regret.
Such things as these may seem apart and not of much interest, and very
likely that is true enough; but to me they were everything, making up as
they did my life when young, as they do, in fact, the lives of most
country-bred youths. Looking back to it now, from under a fast-fading
sun, its quiet and beauty, peaceful beyond measure, cause a sigh of
regret as at some far-off vision that can never return, nor anything
like unto it. When I had been in my new home some weeks, Mr. Blake fell
into a habit of gazing upon me in a fixed, heavy way for hours at a
time, and as if grieved at something beyond expression. Anxious as to
the cause, I lost no time in speaking to Mrs. Blake about it, and what
she said I thought remarkable; nor could I by any means understand it,
or any part of it, so little do the young know the springs of human
sympathy or liking. For it seemed that at the time of Constance's and
my first visit great patches of freckles covered my face, and in these
Mr. Blake saw a dear resemblance to his dead son, who, it appeared, was
similarly marked. Now, with return of strength, the freckles one by one
fading out of my face, he watched their going with surprise at first and
then with grief, until in the end, all being gone, it seemed to him as
if he had lost his son anew. Encouraged by his wife, however, he after a
while overcame his despondency, treating me with gentle kindness, as
before, but never, I thought, with the warmth I had noticed in him at
first. Mrs. Blake, happily, having no such cause of disappointment,
grew in her liking for me, so she would often say, with each passing
day. The reason of this was, I think, that matronly women, such as she,
when deprived of children, ever thus regard with increasing interest the
thing, whatever it may be, which they set apart to fill the void in
their lives. Thus she regarded me, and each day redoubled her efforts to
win my love, and in this was so completely successful that as long as
she lived I never ceased to regard her with the tender affection her
great heart merited.
One fair day soon after my coming, Constance rode out to make us a
visit, emerging from the shadows of the trees like an angel of light,
which indeed she was; for straightway the place seemed as if enchanted.
Giving her scarce a minute to greet Mrs. Blake, I hurried her away to
show her the farm, but more that I might have her to myself during the
short time she was to stay. Forgetful of all else except the happiness
of being together, we wandered hand in hand in the edge of the forest,
till at last, tired out, we sat down beneath an oak to watch the sky and
sleeping clouds--except, indeed, when we were looking into each other's
faces, which I know was the case most of the time. This until long
after the hour when she should have started for home. Then, hastening,
I brought her horse, and mounting one myself, rode beside her to the
door of the Dragon, which we reached soon after dark. Returning as in a
trance, I could not believe it night or that I was alone, for the sky
was ablaze with stars, every one of which seemed to reflect back her
image or to be the brighter for her having seen it.