AFFAIRS AT THE VILLAGE.
They stopped before a low, dismal-looking hut, and Emily shuddered
with horror as her eyes took in the disagreeable prospect. She entered
after her conductor, while the savages followed closely. The hut was
constructed of logs, miserably laid together, and the numerous yawning
interstices filled with mud, which, having become hard and dry,
answered its purpose quite well.
Within, it was divided into two rude compartments by a curtain formed
principally of skins, extending from side to side.
The apartment which they entered was much the larger, containing
a small, wooden chimney, a rude table, three or four blocks,
answering the purpose of chairs, and two rude couches of skins. A few
reminiscences of civilization were scattered around, while against the
walls hung various weapons and trophies.
The maid noticed this with a quick eye, and, as the door was closed
and barred by the Indians, she sunk upon one of the blocks. She needed
not to be told where she was, for every thing about her bespoke the
renegade’s home. Strange and uncouth as was the place, it really seemed
to her that it was not complete without his hideous presence.
The object which most attracted Emily’s attention, was the strange
woman who had preceded her. So far as Emily could judge, she was
twenty-five, or might have been thirty years of age. Her hair, which
was long, black and matted, hung in wild disorder; if it ever had
made the acquaintance of comb or brush, it was evident they had long
been strangers. Her eyes were black and flashing, and, as Emily saw
their cold look, she beheld only harshness and cruelty depicted there.
The features were quite regular, but the beauty they might once have
boasted had faded, and given way to dark passion-marks.
“Wal, ma’am, as this is tew be yer hoam now, I s’pose ye’d like tee
know it, I didn’t hev’ much tew notify me ye’s comin’ or I’d had
things lookin’ a little purtyer ’round here. Ye see this ’ere is the
‘kitchin,’ and threw yender’s our room; I’ll show it tew ye.”
The woman rose and passed from the room, jabbering a few words to one
of the Indians. Lifting a heavy bear-skin, she motioned for Emily to
pass through. It was very narrow, scarcely six feet in width, though
perhaps twice that length. The only relief to the mud-bedaubed walls,
consisted of two piles of skins for couches, and a couple of blocks,
like those without. Emily shuddered as she took in the whole of the
narrow apartment at a glance.
“Thare, ma’am,” the creature said, with a tone of officiousness, “this
is our room. The men foaks sleep out there”—indicating the apartment
they had just left. “Ye see I think this is a real purty room, don’t
you, Miss—?”
Emily did not heed the implied question, but inquired whom she styled
the “men-folks.”
“Why, Mister Ashbey, when he’s here, and the Injin-men; thar’s two on
’em stays here most o’ the time. But, while they were gone I had the
hull house tew myself. I suppose, miss, so long as we kalkerlait tew
be reum-mates, ye’ll hev’ no objection tew tellin’ me yer name, all in
confidence, ye know.”
“Certainly,” Emily replied, with forced composure. “I have no reason to
conceal my name. I am called Emily Hinton—my father was Elisha Hinton.”
“Lishur Hinton!” the other responded, somewhat surprised. “Why, I used
tew know your foaks, and maybe yew’ve hearn o’ me. My name is Sall
Simms—I used tew live in the settlements, years ago.”
Emily had heard of “Sall Simms.” For the first time she now recollected
having heard that Wild Bill had married her, and taken her home to his
Indian settlement. She stated as much to the woman herself.
“Oh yis,” was the ready response. “Me an’ Billy could not live without
each other; so when he ’cluded tew move this way, we jist hitched, and
cum with him. But, I didn’t change my name ’cos I didn’t see any use
on’t.”
Sall soon excused herself to attend to household duties, while Emily
sunk upon one of the piles of skins. From the painful reverie into
which she fell, our heroine was soon aroused by the harsh voice of
Sally, calling her to dinner.
Reluctantly Emily arose, and made her way into the outer room, where
the not over-prepossessing meal was placed upon the table. Sally and
the two Indians were awaiting the appearance of their guest. Her
entrance was the signal for a general attack upon the meal. Sally
wheeled herself into position, and opened a charge upon the edibles,
while the Indians, seizing such portions as best suited their palates,
squatted upon the ground, and swallowed rather than ate the food.
Emily shrunk from the spectacle, yet seated herself upon the block
placed for her, and managed to swallow a small quantity of the roasted
meat. Romantic Sall, meanwhile, entertained her guest with a most
incessant flow of conversation, until Emily arose, and sought the other
apartment, hoping to remain for a time undisturbed. Her solitude was of
short duration. Sally, having performed her few duties, soon entered,
and her flow of coarse remarks burst in an agonizing torrent upon the
devoted head of Emily.
Another dreary meal, very like the preceding, and the shades of evening
were falling upon the earth. She was rejoiced now, and, stealing away
as soon as possible, ensconced herself in the skins, to quiet her
sorrows in slumber.
Once she awoke, and feeling a sense of curiosity, raised her head
to listen. She heard the heavy breathing of Sally in the other bed,
and, satisfied that she slept, Emily arose, and cautiously lifted the
bear-skin which separated the apartments. A bright fire blazed in
the rough chimney. One of the savages slept, while the second leaned
sleepily against the wall. The slight noise made by the raising of the
skins startled the guard, and, looking up he saw the face of Emily
peering through the aperture. With a guttural exclamation, he left his
post and moved that way.
With a little cry of alarm, she sprung from the place, and, sinking
into her bed, lay shivering with fear. The Indian opened the skins,
thrust his tawny face through, and gazed until satisfied all was
quiet, when, with a grunt like that of a satisfied grizzly bear, he
turned away.
It was morning, and the sun was just rising above the trees, when
the captive again awoke to be startled by a wild outcry without. She
was not long in determining that something unusual had happened, as
the village was a perfect bedlam of cries and vociferations. Women
and children were abroad hurrying about in the greatest excitement.
What could it mean? Emily’s first thought was that the renegade had
returned, but a moment’s reflection convinced her this could not be the
case. She looked around for her companion. Sally had gone, and as she
was probably in the outer room, our heroine took her way thither.
Just outside the door, she was met by one of the Indian braves, who,
taking her quickly by the arm, led her into the apartment she had just
left.
“The White Bird must not leave her nest,” he said, and stood guarding
the entrance, in a manner which showed his determination.
“But, tell me,” she ventured, “what it is that causes this commotion
among your people?”
“The White Bird can not know,” he returned, sternly. “Make her young
heart heavy.”
The poor captive sunk down upon her bed of skins, and the savage left
the apartment to gaze on the spectacle without. As soon as he was
gone, the tumult without seemed to increase, as did, also, the anxiety
of Emily. She examined the wall over her couch, and, finding a small
aperture, she soon succeeded in enlarging it, so as to afford quite a
view.
Men, women and children soon appeared, in one brawling, yelling mass,
gathered around an object of common interest in the centre. Just
as they were opposite her prison-house, an opening in the throng
revealed to her anxious gaze the cause of all the excitement. It was
a white prisoner—his arms pinioned behind him, and guarded by savage
braves. Women and children pressed around him, hooting, taunting and
belabouring him with fists and clubs.
Surely, she knew that tall form—those handsome features, and backwoods
garb! It was, indeed, Alfred Markley, who stood thus in the midst
of cruel captors. Her head swam, while a thousand questions and
conjectures rushed through her brain. Where was the brother of the
prisoner? Was he also a captive? She could no longer think that he was
dead.
A long scene of commotion ensued without, which Emily dared not attempt
to witness. At length it ceased, and, with yells of triumph, the throng
moved away. Shortly afterward, Sally Simms entered the apartment. The
maiden felt sure this person could enlighten her, if she would, so she
remarked as unconcernedly as possible:
“I heard quite a commotion without, but could not learn the cause.”
“Yas,” was the answer, “the Injins has got a white prisoner, and was
puttin’ him through the exercises. He’s a smart-lookin’ young chap, and
should known better’n to come so near Billy Ashbey’s place. His scouts
are a deal too smart for white hunters.”
“Was the prisoner taken near this place?” Emily questioned, her
interest becoming still greater.
“Not fur away, I should tek’ it!” was the reply. “A party set out tew
jine the people acrost the river, an’, in about tew hours, cum’ back
with this chap. I’m kind o’ sorry fer him; but he orter l’arn wisdom,
an’ I guess he will when he gits out o’ this.”
“But how came he to be so near? What was he doing on this side of the
river?” Emily asked, her suspense overcoming all other feelings.
The woman noticed the anxiety of the maiden, and all communicativeness
was at an end.
“I don’t know,” she replied, abruptly. “I believe he had one or two
companions, what got shot; but that’s all I knows. Breakfast’s ready.”
Poor Emily! She wished for nothing to eat; so, merely saying that
she desired none, she was left alone with all her fearful doubts and
surmises. She knew not that Sally had fabricated the last portion of
her story, merely to add to the poor captive’s sufferings!