HOW BIG BLACK BURL FIGURED IN HIS TRIUMPH.
"What a pity! what a pity! what a pity!" the little log mill still went
on saying to the little log fort, and making the little log fort yet
sadder and lonesomer than had it held its peace, and not tried so hard
to play the comforter.
From noon to noon, with a dreary night between, hour after hour passed
heavily, wearily by. And there, at the door of her desolate home, still
sat the widowed mother, waiting and watching, her eyes turned ever
toward the perilous north--waiting and watching as only those can wait
and watch whose hearts are telling them that any hour may bring them the
tidings that all they hold most dear on earth is lost to them forever.
In homely kindness and sympathy her neighbors strove to comfort her, and
rouse her from the lethargy of grief into which she seemed to be
sinking. They forgot how little mere words of condolence, however tender
and pitying, can avail, until the stricken heart, having taken in its
full measure of sorrow, can begin to accommodate itself to the new
presence, and be brought once more to feel that although much is lost
still more remains for gratitude and peace.
Toward noon the next day the hunters, who had gone out in pursuit of the
savages, weary and sad returned to the fort. After parting with Burl,
they had not ascended more than a mile into the hills, when the larger
trail made its reaeppearance on the banks of the more easterly of the two
forks, whose united waters formed the little river which turned the
mill of the settlement. Rejoining their parties, they had renewed the
chase with spirit, the trail now leading in a direct line toward the
Ohio, whose banks they had reached at sunset, and just in time to send a
volley of bullets after the fugitives, who, however, before the pursuers
were up with them, had regained their canoes and put a broad stretch of
the river between themselves and the perilous shore. The hunters had had
a clear view of the Indians as they landed on the opposite side, and
having made sure that there were no white prisoners among them, they had
given over the chase, convinced that the unfortunate Bushie must have
been borne away in some other direction by the three Indians whose
traces had been discovered at the corn-field fence, and lost sight of in
the larger trail. One chance more, however, remained to them: Big Black
Burl was still abroad, and so long as that faithful and courageous
fellow kept the war-path, good reason had they for hoping that all yet
might end well.
The sun was nigh his setting; a few more far-reaching winks of his great
bright eye and he would be sinking behind the evening hills of green
Kentucky, and rising above the morning hills of China. Already had the
horses and cattle--as was the custom of the times when Indians were
known to be across the border--been brought for the night within the
shelter of the fort. Already the ponderous wooden gate was swinging
creakingly to on its ponderous wooden hinges; but just as its ponderous
wooden bolt was sliding into the ponderous wooden staple, out from the
neighboring forest ringing, with echo on echo, it came--the old familiar
cry, the trumpet-call to battle abroad, the note of brotherly cheer at
home: "I yi, you dogs!"--too jocund and triumphant for any one whose
ears had caught the glad sound to doubt that glad tidings were coming.
Straightway reopening the gate and looking forth, the hunters spied,
moving toward them through the bushes in the edge of the woods, first
the plumed crest of an Indian warrior, then a more spreading display of
bright feathers, so high aloft that one could fancy they topped the head
of a giant full eight feet high, who came treading close behind. For a
few moments this was all that could be seen; till now, full over the
ragged skirts of the forest, there in open view, they came--the young
Indian in front, with his load of rifles laid across his arm; then Big
Black Burl, bristling all over with hatchets and knives; and lastly,
with a consequential twist of the tail and with the plumed scalp-lock of
an Indian waving over his neck, the invincible Grumbo bringing up the
rear.
And there, triumphantly borne aloft on the shoulders of our big black
hero, his sturdy young legs astride his deliverer's neck and dangling
down in front, bare and brier-scratched, his arms clasped tightly around
the bear-skin war-cap, his own little coon-skin cap all brave with the
pride of the war-bird--there sat our little white hero, that self-same
runaway Bushie, whose froward legs had so well-nigh carried him to
death's door, and on whose account a whole settlement had been unsettled
from dinner-time yesterday till supper-time to-day. But what a shout
that was which at this sight went pealing up from the fort to the sky,
went pealing down from the fort to the mill, which, just at this moment
received the reserved water upon its wheel, and all on a sudden,
clearing its wooden throat with a squeak, ceased droning, "What a pity!
what a pity!" and fell to singing, in double-quick time, "What a
naughty! what a naughty! what a naughty!" Some of the hunters ran in to
bear the poor mother the joyful tidings, some ran out to meet and
welcome the returning conqueror, while others opened the gate to its
utmost width to let the conqueror in. On they came, vanquished and
victor; Bushie grinning at them from over the head of the Fighting
Nigger; the Fighting Nigger grinning at them from over the head of the
Indian; and the Indian, with dignified composure, looking the whole
white settlement full in the face. Without a halt, right through the
gate-way they drove, "like a wagon and team with a dog behind," to use
the conqueror's own expressive words; nor could words have expressed
more, had they told of the rumble of chariot-wheels. Hardly were they
over the sill when, to bring the triumph to a climax, here, followed by
all the women, and children, and dogs, screaming, shouting, barking,
laughing, crying--those gladder who cried than those who laughed, those
gladder who barked than those who shouted--came running Miss Jemimy, to
meet them.
Turning his back square on his mistress, the conqueror let the rescued
treasure tumble bodily from his shoulders into the eager arms, upon the
yearning bosom. With incoherent expressions of endearment to her darling
boy, of thanks to their brave and faithful servant, and of praise to the
merciful Father of all, the widowed mother clasped the lost and found to
her heart, being in turn all but choked and smothered by the hugs and
kisses of the delighted Bushie. Then, hand in hand, they hastened to
their cabin and shut the door behind them with a timbersome bang, which
said as plainly as a puncheon-door, with oaken hinges and hickory latch,
could say any thing, "Let us have the first hour of recovered happiness
to ourselves." It was a sight for which full many a stern, hard eye that
saw it grew for the moment the brighter, if not the clearer; and Burl,
though he made a manful effort to keep it back, was forced to yield the
point and let it come--the one big sob of tender and grateful feeling,
which, sending a quiver through his huge frame, made his martial rigging
shake and jingle like the harness of a whinnying war-horse.
The hunters now gathered round the hero of the day and called upon him
for an account of his adventures since parting with them at the forks of
the river the day before. He told his story modestly and briefly enough,
being well aware that there were those among his listeners far more
learned in wood-craft than himself, and more skilled in the arts and
stratagems of Indian warfare. Too magnanimous was he, though, to pass so
briefly over the part his prisoner had played in the matter, dwelling at
some length on the gentleness and humanity with which the young Indian
had treated his little master. When he had ended, the white hunters, one
and all, came up to him and shook him heartily by the hand, pronouncing
him an Indian-fighter of the true grit--a compliment, in the Fighting
Nigger's estimation, the highest that could be paid to mortal man,
black, yellow, or white. Then, going up to the young Indian, who,
leaning on his rifles, had stood the while with his bright eyes fixed
serenely on some invisible quarter of the evening, they, one and all,
shook him, likewise, as heartily by the hand--a dumb but eloquent
expression of their grateful sense of the humanity he had shown their
little friend in his hour of helpless peril and piteous need. The young
brave received the demonstration with dignified composure; not, though,
as if he had expected it, for, at the first greeting, he did lose his
self-possessed reserve so far as to betray a little sign of great
surprise.
While our big black hero was narrating their adventures to the hunters
without, our little white hero was giving his version of the same to his
mother within--a medley of facts and fancies, where it was about nip and
tuck between his old black chum and his young red friend as to which
might claim the greater share of the juvenile gratitude and admiration.
Being gently reproved by his mother for his naughty behavior, which had
been the cause of so much trouble and distress to them all, the young
transgressor, for the first time in his life without the help of a
switch to make him feel and know the error of his ways, besought his
mother's forgiveness; only just let him off for that one time and he
never, never would run away with the Indians again as long as he
lived--winding up the comforting assurance with a cub-like hug, to make
the surer of clearing his legs of the switching he felt he richly
deserved.
Having heard the rigmarole from beginning to end, and from end to
beginning, and then from middle to middle again, and gathered therefrom
that he to whom she owed her dear boy's life was wounded, Mrs. Reynolds
sent Bushie with word to Burl to bring the young Indian to her door.
When they were come, she made a few inquiries of Burl himself with
regard to their adventures, and when answered, she bid him go and bring
a keeler of water, that they might wash and dress the prisoner's wound.
When the water was brought, she took off the bloody bandages from the
crippled arm and gently laved and washed the wound, which by this time
was much inflamed and swollen; then anointing it with some
healing-salve, she bound it up again with clean bandages. This humane
office duly done, the good woman bid Burl take the young Indian to his
own cabin, there to be lodged and entertained with all hospitality till,
healed of his wound, he should be able to shift for himself, when he
should be allowed to return in peace to his own people.
And as his mistress bid him did Burl right willingly do playing the host
in magnificent style, and setting before his captive guest the best his
house afforded, not suffering a morsel to pass his own or Grumbo's lips
till the claims of hospitality were fully met. This last, however, was a
piece of etiquette not at all to the war-dog's taste, since two hungry
Christian mouths were thereby made to water, and that too only out of
respect to a red heathen, who, as such, in his dogship's opinion,
deserved no better treatment at their hands than a common cur. Therefore
did Grumbo harden his heart all the more against the red barbarian,
holding him in worse odor than before.
Victor and vanquished were still at their friendly repast when all the
ebony of the settlement--to the number of about thirty, men, women, and
children--came flocking to the Fighting Nigger's cabin, and stood
gathered in a close, black knot at the door, waiting with eager ears to
hear the great event of the day from the hero's own lips; nor with eyes
less eager to get a peep at the prisoner of war, a "live Injun"--a sight
that some of them had never seen before. Their wonderment was much
excited to see how a red varmint could drink _its_ water from a tin
instead of needing to suck it up from a trough, like a horse; how _it_
could eat _its_ meat with a knife and fork, bite by bite, instead of
gulping it up whole, like a dog; and how _it_ could do many other things
in the civilized, human way, which they had supposed peculiar to "black
people and white folks." Supper ended, mine host filled and lighted his
own pipe, and blandly showing the whites of his eyes, offered it to his
captive guest. The captive guest, with a graceful acknowledgment,
accepted the pipe, and with grave decorum began smoking, sending out the
puffs at slow and regular intervals, and looking straight before him;
sometimes at the curling smoke, then, through the smoke, at the opposite
wall; then, through the wall--for so it seemed--at some object on the
other side of the Ohio River, miles away in the gathering shades of
evening. Once he turned his bright eyes full on the clump of shining
black faces at the door, and scanned them attentively, though seemingly
with as little consciousness of their living, personal presence as were
they but so many stuffed specimens of their kind piled up there for
exhibition. But glancing downward and spying three or four little
woolies peeping fearfully at him from between the legs of the larger
ones--the stride of the legs perceptibly widened "to give the little
fellows a chance"--then did the young brave discharge a puff one second
before its time, sending it with a force that carried it in a straight
line to the bowl of the pipe before it began to rise. But for this, you
would hardly have thought that the Indian had seen any thing that seemed
to him alive or human or funny.
"Cap'n Rennuls, stop yo' monkey-shines ober de red varmint in dar, an'
come out an' git up an' make us a speech," at length said one of the
ebony brotherhood at the door, promoting our hero on the spot, and
adding a still higher title to the illustrious list already coupled with
his name.