Several years previous to the Revolution a Scotchman and his wife,
named M'Dougal, emigrated to America. Having but very little money, he
purchased land where it was then sold for almost nothing, in a country
thinly peopled, and on the extreme verge of civilization.
His first care was to construct a house and clear away some of the
trees around it This done, he spent his whole time, early and late, in
making a garden and cultivating a few fields. By unwearied industry
and with the occasional help of older settlers, he by degrees acquired
a stock of cattle, sheep, and pigs, and was in a rough way, possessed
of a comfortable independence. His greatest discomforts were, distance
from his neighbors, the church, market, and even the mill; but, above
all, the complete separation from his friends; and this he would have
felt still more had he been an idle man.
One day, Farmer M'Dougal, having a quantity of corn to grind, knowing
that the distance was considerable, and the road none of the
smoothest, set out in the morning at sunrise, hoping he should reach
home again before dark.
When the farmer was at home he always drove up the cows for his wife
to milk, morning and evening; but now this care devolved on her, and
the careful woman went out in quest of them. Not accustomed to go far
from the house, she found herself in an unknown country, and, with
neither pocket compass nor notched trees to guide, it is not to be
wondered that she wandered long and wearily to very little purpose.
Tall trees seemed to encompass her on every side, or where the view
was more open, she beheld the distant blue hills rising one behind
another; but no village spire or cottage chimney was there to cheer
her on her way, and fatigued with the search, and despairing of
finding the cattle, she resolved while it was yet light, to retrace
her steps homeward.
But this resolution was more easily formed than executed; she became
completely bewildered; she knew not in which direction to turn, and,
at length, with tears in her eyes, and her mind agitated almost to
distraction, she sunk on the ground. But she had not rested there many
minutes before she was startled by the sound of approaching footsteps,
and, on looking up, she beheld before her an Indian hunter.
Although Mrs. M'Dougal knew that there were Indians living in the
neighborhood, she had never yet seen one, and her terror was very
great. The Indian, however, knew her; he had seen her before, he knew
where she lived, and he instantly guessed the cause of her distress.
He could speak but a few words of English; but he made signs for her
to follow him. She did so, and after a few minutes' walk, they arrived
at the door of an Indian wigwam. He invited her to enter, but not
being able to persuade her to do so, he darted into the wigwam, and
spoke a few words to his wife, who instantly appeared, and by the
kindness of her manner induced the stranger to enter their humble
abode. Venison was prepared for supper, and Mrs. M'Dougal, though
still alarmed at the novelty of her situation, could not refuse to
partake of the savory meal.
Seeing that their guest was weary, the Indians removed from their
place two beautiful deer skins, and, by stretching and fixing them
across, divided the wigwam into two apartments. Mats were then spread
in both, and the stranger was made to understand that one division was
for her accommodation. But here again her courage failed her, and to
the most pressing entreaties she replied that she would sit and sleep
by the fire. This determination seemed to puzzle the Indian and his
squaw sadly. They looked at one another, and conversed softly in their
own language; and at length, the squaw taking her guest by the hand,
led her to her couch and became her bedfellow.
In the morning she awoke greatly refreshed, and anxious to depart
without further delay; but this her new friends would not permit,
until she had eaten of their corn cakes and venison. Then the Indian
accompanied his guest, and soon conducted her to the spot where the
cattle were grazing. These he drove from the wood, on the edge of
which Mrs. M'Dougal descried her husband, who was equally delighted at
seeing her, as her absence from home all night had caused him great
uneasiness. They invited their Indian benefactor to their house, and,
on his departure, presented him with a suit of clothes.
Three days after, he returned and endeavored, partly by signs, and
partly by broken English, to induce Farmer M'Dougal to follow him into
the forest; but he refused. Time was precious to him, who had to work
hard for every thing he possessed, and the Indian repeated his
entreaties in vain. The poor fellow looked grieved and disappointed;
but a moment after, a sudden thought struck him. He hit on an
expedient which none but an Indian hunter would have thought of.
Mrs. M'Dougal had a young child, which the Indian's quick eye had not
failed to notice; and, finding that his eloquence was completely
thrown away upon the parents, he approached the cradle, seized the
child, and darted out of the house with the speed of an antelope. The
father and mother instantly followed, calling loudly on him to return;
but he had no such intention. He led them on, now slower, now faster,
and occasionally turning towards them, laughing, and holding up the
child to their view.
It is needless to go into all the details of this singular journey,
further than to say that the Indian, instead of enticing them to his
own wigwam, as they expected, halted on the margin of a most beautiful
prairie, covered with the richest vegetation, and extending over
several thousand acres. In a moment the child was restored to its
parents, who, wondering what so strange a proceeding could mean, stood
awhile panting for breath, and looking at one another with silent
astonishment.
The Indian, on the other hand, seemed overjoyed at the success of his
manoeuvre, and never did a human being frisk about and gesticulate
with greater animation. We have heard of a professor of signs, and if
such a person were wanted, the selection would not be a matter of
difficulty, so long as any remnant exists in the aborigines of North
America. All travellers agree in describing their gestures as highly
dignified, and their countenances intelligent; and we have Mr.
M'Dougal's authority for stating that the hero of this tale proved
himself a perfect master of the art of eloquence his broken English
was nearly in these words:
"You think Indian treacherous; you think him wish steal the child. No,
no; Indian has child of his own. Indian knew you long ago; saw you
when you not see him; saw you hard working man. Some white men bad,
and hurt poor Indian. You not bad; you work hard for your wife and
child; but you choose bad place; you never make rich there. Indian see
your cattle go in forest; think you come and catch them; you not come;
your wife come. Indian find her faint and weary; take her home; wife
fear go in; think Indian kill her! No, no; Indian lead her back; meet
you very sad; then very glad to see her. You kind to Indian; give him
meat and drink, and better clothes than your own. Indian grateful;
wish you come here; not come; Indian very sorry; take the child; know
you follow child. If Indian farm, Indian farm here. Good ground; not
many trees; make road in less than half a moon; Indians help you;
Indians your friends; come, live here."
M'Dougal immediately saw the advantage that such a change would be to
him, and, taking the Indian's advice, the day was soon fixed for the
removal of the log-house, along with the rest of his goods and
chattels; and the Indian, true to his word, brought a party of his red
brethren to assist in one of the most romantic removals that ever took
place, either in the Old World, or the New.
In a few days a roomy log-house was raised, and garden marked out in
the most fertile and beautiful part of the prairie. The Indians
continued friendly and faithful, and the good understanding; between
them and the white settlers was a source of great comfort to both
parties.