CHAPTER VIII.

“With various converse thus they whiled the way, Till lengthening shadows marked the closing day.”

PARNELL.

Rolfe and Earthquake deeply sympathized with the Indian mother, and remained with her several days for the purpose of supplying her and her son with food. As their stay was prolonged, each day the aversion of the Indian boy to the hunters, seemed gradually wearing away, and the mother was sensibly moved by their kindness. She expressed great gratitude, was even assiduous in her attentions, and pressed upon them again and again the rude hospitality of her wigwam. Upon conversing with her, Earthquake ascertained that her name was Pukkwana, and that of her son, Oloompa; and observing that she seemed kind in her feelings, he narrated to her the story of the captive maiden.

Her feelings were much enlisted in favour of the hunters by the recital, and she spoke harshly of the Indians who had committed so great a crime. Earth then dwelt upon the anxiety of Rolfe, and begged her, if she could suggest any plan which would probably enable them to find the maiden, to do so, and accept their blessings.

Pukkwana, in answer, said, she could suggest nothing, but again renewed her professions of gratitude, and stated, that as soon as her son should recover, they would cheerfully use all their exertions to discover the fate of the maiden, and if she lived, forward intelligence of the fact to the hunters at their own residence. Earth hearing this, repeated it to Rolfe, who was delighted at having interested Pukkwana in the search, and he begged Earth to try and obtain the same promise from her son, and at the same time to press upon them both his conviction that only through their endeavours was there a hope of obtaining any information. Earth made the request as desired, and the Indian boy readily complied. They were grateful for the kindness of the hunters, and promised not only to extend their search through their own, but also through the neighbouring tribes. The difficulty of conveying the information in the event that the captive was found, was then adverted to. But Pukkwana stated that with not more speed, would the eagle wing its way to its nest, than, if successful, should the tidings be borne to Rolfe. With this the hunters were satisfied, and began to make preparations for their journey.

“Stay, Earth,” said Rolfe, “suppose they were to find her, and some how or other I have great hopes they will, how would she know who it is that seeks her.”

“The boy and the old woman both know your name, and also, where you live,” said Earth, “they will tell her.”

“But suppose I write a line, Earth, it will not take long, and in case it ever reaches her, will explain every thing.”

“Very well, then, do so.”

In a moment Rolfe trimmed into a pen a quill which was lying on the ground, and gathering an oak ball, which grew near at hand, traced on the back of an old letter, the following lines:—

“With what emotions, my love, I now write, you can never know. Am I right in the supposition that your family lately left Petersburg for the west, and that you are now alone and a captive among the Indians? Oh! distracting thought!—how the bare suspicion of it maddens me. And yet, if it be true, know that I witnessed the scene on the Ohio, and have been in constant search of you since. Recollections of the past, connected only with you, are still the most pleasing reminiscences of my life; and oh! if so sad a calamity as that which I dare not mention has befallen you, name it to the bearer of this, who will tell it to me, and I will fly on the wings of love, to soothe, console, and restore you to your friends. I am now residing at Bowling Green, in Kentucky, and should these lines ever meet your eyes, believe me, dearest, I remain, what I have ever been, your most affectionate friend.

“R. ROLFE.”

Then folding them up carefully, he requested Earth to give them to Pukkwana, and enjoin it upon her, that they were to be given to the maiden, in the event of her being found. Firm relations of friendship were now established between Rolfe and the two Indians, and even Earth seemed to forget in his conduct toward them, the deep bitterness of feeling he entertained for their race. Requiring a renewal of the promise, on the part of Pukkwana, the hunters made many kind wishes for the welfare of herself and son, and again resumed their journey.

“Well, Earth,” said Rolfe, “as they proceeded along, the scene we have witnessed here has been a sad one.”

“You may say that,” replied Earth;—“it is to me like a dream. But it is now over, and I say, let us return, and trust to Providence; it is idle to attempt any thing more. If we should hereafter hear any tidings of her, we can then act according to circumstances.”

“God only knows what will or can happen,” said Rolfe. “I fear my fate is sealed. The loss of her for whom alone I lived, will embitter the remainder of my days. Poor girl, how sad must be her fate.”

Earth's eyes filled with tears:—“Come, Rolfe,” said he, “no more of this, let us go home and go to work.”

“I have no spirit for exertion, Earth; my hopes are blighted: the future is to me a dark and dreary waste, and through it I care not what my path may be.”

“Ah! Rolfe,” said Earth, “now you go too far. In the first place, you don't know whether she is the same girl, and you had better write to Petersburg, and learn that; and if she is, pity her, and talk of her as much as you please; but don't talk of giving up; no body ever made any thing by that. If you give up, you have got to live afterward, and one had better go to work, and be respected, than to poke about, and do nothing. But your country needs your services:—man! go, mingle in her councils, and make Earthquake proud of his adopted brother. Though times are rather squally, I hardly think there will be a war, and if there was, you are not overly clever with a gun; and you don't think right about killing Ingens no how; but, perhaps in a legislature or a court-house, you might make the wool fly.”

“I dare say your advice is good, Earth, and we will talk of this matter another time; but it is hard to surrender the cherished hope of years. Earth, were you ever in love?”

“Ah! Rolfe, there you are too hard for me, I hardly know what to say about that.”

“Surely,” said Rolfe, “you must know whether you were ever in love or not.”

“No, I don't,” said Earth;—“I have sometimes felt queer.”

“How? what do you mean by queer?”

“Why, don't you know what I mean by queer?”

“No,” said Rolfe; “how should I know.”

“Well, I mean that sometimes, when I have seen some of our Kentuck' gals, I've felt right funny;—felt as if somebody was drawing a briar over me. Now, if you call that love, I have been in love.”

“Well, I think you have,” said Rolfe, “and that you have felt one of its strongest symptoms. Do you know any body that you would marry?”

“No, not a living soul; nor, for the matter of that, a dead one either. I marry! what for? To be always toating a wife through the woods, or across the swamps, to keep some damn'd red skin from taking her hair off? Wouldn't she see rough times? Fool who?—She'd be all sorts of a gal who catches me.”

Rolfe could not resist laughing, and observed:—“You have queer ideas of wedlock, Earth.”

“Oh! I don't know,” said Earth, “a wife is a queer thing; and getting one is like taking a varment out of a hollow;—you don't know until you have got it into your hand, what sort of a thing it is.”

“That may be the case sometimes, Earth; but how delightful it must be to have for a companion, a lovely woman, whose every thought is virtuous and innocent; and then to have that woman so devoted to you, that her only pleasure consists in doing those things which make you happy.”

“That may be very fine, Rolfe; but I know that there ain't sich a gal in these parts, and I don't believe sich a thing ever happens.”

“Yes, Earth, it happens, when persons of congenial minds and dispositions are united, before they reach that scheming period of life in which interest sways all their actions.”

“Oh! now, Rolfe, you are talking too pretty for me; I don't know what it all means. I can only say this, that if I was to marry, I would pick a wife as I would a horse, and be governed altogether by looks.”

“And then, Earth, you might have just cause to think of wedlock as you do now.”

“Oh! I don't know; its well enough in its way. I shall never marry; I don't like your small gals no how you can fix it, and if I was to choose one for myself,—and you know I wouldn't let any body choose for me,—I should have a mighty heavy team; for, besides going for good looks, I should like a very large wife.”

“Then your taste is fortunate, Earth, and you will be the less apt to be plagued by rivals.—They are troublesome things.”

“I don't care what my taste is,” said Earth, “I will never have a rival; for, if I was to see a lady and love her, and any body else was loving her before me, I would back out. But if I was to see her first, and take notice of her, I should regard her just as I would a 'coon which I had treed:—I suppose you know, Rolfe, what I would do with a man if he was to trouble a 'coon which old Jupe had treed?”

“I think I can imagine, Earth; but come, let us be serious, and talk of something else.”

“Rolfe,” said Earth, “I never saw a good reason for a man being serious when he could be cheerful.—Now, if you want to be serious, I'll tell you a story:—I'll tell you one that made me serious once for a whole day.”

“Then give it to us,” said Rolfe.

“Very well,” said Earth, “be all attention, and you shall hear it.”

“I am,” said Rolfe.

“Well,” began Earth, “I was living, when it happened, upon that piece of land I bought of the 'squire, and a hard bargain it was,—I think he gouged me in that trade; but that's neither here nor there;—as I said before, I was living on it. I had been hard at work, for several weeks, killing a parcel of trees, and trying to get ready a small clearing for my next year's crop, when I thought I would step over to one of my neighbours, swap a lie or two, and hear what was going on. He lived about ten miles off, by the near way, but much further to go round by the swamp. So, taking the near path, I went over one evening, and, what I hardly ever did before, I forgot to take my gun along. I found the old fellow at home, and as soon as I got seated, I went hard to work and talked him full. After a while he got a chance, and come at me, and he made up for lost time;—he talked me all over and about in spots, until I was tired. Then he was just getting under way, so I turned in and the next morning, rising up very early, I started back.”

“Well, I think it ought to have made you serious,” said Rolfe.

Earth was a little confused at Rolfe's remark, but replied:—“Come, Rolfe, don't judge a man so hard,—you won't hear me through,—I was just greasing a little before starting out.”

“Go on, then, Earth.”

“Well, as I said, I had started back, and had got along some two or three miles;—the sun was rather better than an hour high, and every thing was right still, when I saw 'long the path, where a great big bear had turned over a log,”——

“How did you know that a large bear turned it over?” said Rolfe.

“Because,” said Earth, “the log was a large one, and it was rolled over and over, to some distance—a small bear could hardly have moved it, and then you know he would only have slipped it one side.”

“Earth, what do they turn them over for?”

“Rolfe, you ax too many questions. They turn them over to get the bugs and insects which are generally under them.”

“Then go on, Earth.”

“Well, when I saw the signs, I felt mighty bad;—I had no gun—old Jupe wan't with me, and I never had been known to pass a bear in that way, without taking any notice at all of him; so, I considered:—my knife was in my belt, sharp as I could wish it:—I took it out and drew the edge across my thumb; I felt satisfied that it would stand me good service, and I started off, determining in my own mind that I would at least take a look at him; and, if I couldn't do any thing, that then I would go home. Keeping a sharp look out, I got upon his tracks, and followed on; I kept seeing where he had been feeding, and after going along for nearly a mile, in a thick place, just ahead of me, I come upon him. He didn't notice me at first; so I stood and looked at him, and raised up my arms and took sight off my finger, just as if I had a gun. I could have blowed him to pieces. But 'twant nothing;—Oh! I did hate it.”—Saying so, Earth took off his hat, and rubbed his hair. “He was a peeler; it fairly made my mouth water to look at him. But there was no use in staying there: so I began to talk to him, and treating me with the utmost disgust, he buckled off, and began to let himself out, link at a time. I wan't much pleased at his conduct, and I knowed, if he would only keep out of the swamp, that I could run him to the girth; so I started after him:—he saw me coming, and the way that he and I did curl it for about half an hour, was curious. I tell you what, we made every thing clear the track as we moved along.

“We were going up a hill, and I was gaining upon him right fast, when all at once I saw him jump up, as if over something, and then change his direction; and then sich a rattling I never did hear. I thought there were at least forty snakes all up in a lump. So I forgot the bear, and stopped to look at 'em; and as long as I had been in the woods, I had never seen any thing like it before. As I stopped, they separated, and I saw that there were only two,—that they were the real rattles, taking a regular fight. A fight, Rolfe, you know I always see, if there is any chance; so I jest planted myself, determining to look on, and see that they had fair play. Both of 'em were larger than the biggest part of my arm, and as near as I could guess, about six feet long. When they first separated, they crawled off in different directions a few yards, and then stopping, began to lick themselves, just as if they were a couple of dogs. While they were doing this, they would occasionally raise their heads, and look about 'em for a time, and then begin licking agin. They were so long at this, that I began to think that they were not the real genuine pluck, but that they were getting tired of it, and wanted to crawl off. However, I begged their pardons for thinking so hard of 'em, for after resting a while, just long enough to cool out a little, one of 'em roared; he made a noise like an ox at a distance, and I tell you what, I trimbled all over. I then noticed them agin, and saw that they were very nearly the same size,—that one was of a dark, dingy brown colour, while the other was a bright yaller, covered with dark spots. It was the yaller looking one that first roared; and as soon as he finished, he raised his head about a foot and a half high, curved his neck like a horse, and then bringing his tail over his back, jest as if he had been nicked, he began to wave it horizontally. There was a string of rattles to it, about as long as my hand, and he shook 'em occasionally. It made the chills creep over me to look at him, he seemed to do it so boldly, and I thought he merely did it, to have some music to go to war with.

“Well, when the yaller one roared, it was just like putting a shovel of hot coals on the old brown;—he fairly squalled. He was so mad, that in an instant he raised his body nearly half as high as he was long, and began to peep about him, at the same time, raising his tail up about six inches, and rattling as if he would shake every bone out of his skin. He was proper mad, I tell you, and trimbled like he had an ague.

“But he wan't satisfied with merely squalling and rattling; for he quit that, and opening his mouth about wide enough for me to get my fist in, began to stretch his head out, and draw it back; and then sich hissing, Rolfe, you never did hear. The yaller one stood his ground like a man:—there didn't seem to be any back out about him, and when the old brown began to hiss, he opened his mouth until I thought he would swallow himself, and the way he did blow was nothing to nobody. I thought there was a small hurricane coming up. Well, now their dander was so high, they couldn't stand it any longer:—so at it they went. They glided off,—their heads and tails were both up;—there wan't more than about three feet of their bodies on the ground;—and they began to encircle each other like a couple of chickens. They had now quit hissing and squalling, and only rattled once in a while, looking each other straight in the face all the time. Every time they went round, I saw that they were getting closer and closer, and they looked to me just like two fellows of the true spunk, who had stripped and were eyeing each other, before taking a round. They were going at it so seriously, it naturally made my hair rise up. They were by themselves,—there was no other snake present, to cry hurra for one, or well done for the other, a thing you know which helps mightily sometimes;—but they were going to try it, rough, roar, and tumble for life.

“Well, now I was jest as much interested as if I had come across a couple of men who were going to take a brush. I clean forgot the bear, and if the snakes had fought till sunset, I meant to see 'em out, and give 'em all the fair play that I knew how. I left them, you know, circling round:—they went round, I think, as much as three times, when the first thing I knowed, they were both in a knot, and sich squeezing and swelling, and rattling, and creeping through one another, I never seed before in all my born days. They would lock their bodies together, and twist 'em just like the working of a worm into a screw, and all the time their mouths were so wide open, that I thought each one was trying to swallow the other.

“Rolfe, I don't care what people say, I won't believe that snakes have bones in 'em, for you couldn't have tied a thread into more knots than I saw them get into that day. They may be filled with small gristles.”

“Go on with your story, Earth,” said Rolfe.

“Well, I left 'em kinked up,—they were tangled for nearly half an hour;—and what do you suppose I was doing, then?”

“Ah! God knows,” said Rolfe, “it is more than I can tell.”

“Why, jest looking at 'em, and straining and twisting every joint almost out of place, following them in their motions. I did this without knowing it, and I never should have found it out, if I hadn't begun to feel sore all over.

“Well, to go back to the snakes:—I now saw that the old brown had ketched a double on the bright yaller, and was spinning his neck out, to about the size of my thumb. His body now began to unkink, his tongue come out several inches, and soon after, poor fellow, the old brown had laid him out, straight as a fishhook. However, it had been a fair fight, and a hard one, and after it was over, the old brown blowed jest like he had ris up from a pond of water, where he had been under longer than he wanted to, and crawling off to some distance, stretched out, and began to lick himself.

“Well, I was right sorry, and I looked on for some time, and hardly knowed what to do; but I saw 'twas all over, so, drawing my knife, I walked up to the bright yaller, and lifting up his tail, fetched a wipe, and took off his rattles.—I thought they belonged to me, for seeing fair play. But to my surprise, as I did so, I felt his tail slip through my fingers, and saw that the poor fellow had come to, and was moving off. But, Rolfe, in cutting them off, I made 'em rattle, and sich another squall as the old brown did set up,”——Here Earth whistled. “He hadn't been mad before:—he now doubled himself up in a hoop, and made after me. I streaked it; the faster I run, the more noise I made, and looking behind, I saw him rolling on; every time he turned over his eyes come up like two coals of fire in a dark night. He gained upon me, so I dropped the rattles, and as I did so, he settled down upon 'em, and spun round jest like he was a top. I thought it was a good time to get clear, so I slipped off, and continued my way home.”

“And that's what made you serious,” said Rolfe.

“No, it ta'int,” said Earth, “it might have made me serious; but since you think so lightly of it, I should like to know what would make you serious.”

“You mistake me, Earth, I do not, it is a good story, and I merely asked for information, come, go on.”

“Well,” said Earth, “since I see you believe in what I told you, and know how to appreciate the snakes, I will.”

“After I left the old brown spinning round, as I was saying, I took the nearest direction, and started off for home; I had walked along, I suppose, that is, as near as I can come at it, about two miles, when here 'twas agin.”

“What?” said Rolfe.

“Why the same bear that I had gin sich a race in the morning. He was setting up in a tree eating acorns.”

“How do you know 'twas the same?” inquired Rolfe.

“Do you know your horse?” said Earth.

“Yes.”

“Well, then I know my bear. And as I was saying, he was setting up in a tree; I looked at him for a while, and then he looked at me. He knowed I hadn't a gun, for he went up a little higher, and getting out upon a limb began to eat as if I want there. 'Twas a mighty trying thing to me, to see him do so, for 'twas conduct I wa'nt at all used to; so I scratched my head a while, and begun to think, and a notion struck me.”

“What was it?” said Rolfe.

“Why, I saw in the first place, that he was a tre-mend-ous fellow; and that the limb he was on was so far from any other, that he couldn't jump off it, without coming down upon the ground; and if he did that, he was so heavy, I was pretty sure he would break some of his joints. So I drawed my knife once or twice across my shoe, and started up; every thing went well, the higher I got up, the further out he went upon the limb; his head was from me, and the limb was so small I knowed he couldn't turn round. So I crawled right at once to where it branched off from the tree, and drawing my knife, I determined if he left that limb he should jump off. He now began to think how ticklish he was situated, and he was mightily scared; he trimbled all over, and kept squatting as if he would jump, but he couldn't git his courage up; he then tried to turn round, and would have come at me head foremost, but the limb was so small he couldn't, and he squatted down and cried like a child. He thought he could make me forgive him, but tw'ant nothing. I began to shake, and he slipped, but he caught and swung with his body under the limb; he made a mighty pitiful cry, and scrambled up agin. He knew it wouldn't do to stay so far out, that I would shake him off, so he began to back right to where I was, thinking he could back by me. I was laying on the limb, and he run upon me so fast, that he like to have knocked me off, he pressed agin me mighty hard, and I hadn't fair play, but I got at my knife, and making over hand licks I popped it into him every time. I hadn't a good purchase, and he stood it so long, that I began to think there was no point to my knife. But after a while the metal told, and he backed out, and crawled towards the end of the limb agin. I kept seeing him turn his head towards his rump, and I knew then I had been into him. But I had done no good, for there he seemed resolved to stay, I hollowed and shook, and did every thing I could, but he would'nt budge an inch. So I resolved to crawl after him, knowing that if I could only git one more lick, he would be sure to jump off. It was a mighty ticklish business, but I stretched out, and began to pull myself along, I felt the limb bend, but I saw if I could only get one foot further, I could reach him. So I drawed myself up, and stretched out:—I heard a mighty crash,—and the first thing I knowed I waked up about sunset, jist as if I had ris from a sound sleep. I did'nt know where I was, until I looked about and saw the limb which had been broke off; then it all come upon me like a dream. The bear was gone, I saw the print where he fell, and that was all he left me, so I made tracks for home, determining that I would'nt get into another scrape that day. Now, Rolfe, that's the time when I was serious, when I was lying under that tree.”

Thus amusing themselves, they continued their journey, to perform which, we must leave them, while we bring forward other parts of our story.