The Prairie (Fiscle Part 3) Of 2 by J Fenimore Cooper (phonics reading books TXT) 📕

Should Not Have Journeyed So Far,  And Seen So Much. But I Have Tarried

Long Among A People,  Who Lived In Those Woods You Mention,  And Much

Reason Did I Find To Imitate Their Courage And Love Their Honesty. The

Master Of Life Has Made Us All,  Pawnee,  With A Feeling For Our Kind. I

Never Was A Father,  But Well Do I Know What Is The Love Of One. You

Are Like A Lad I Valued,  And I Had Even Begun To Fancy That Some Of

His Blood Might Be In Your Veins. But What Matters That? You Are A

True Man,  As I Know By The Way In Which You Keep Your Faith; And

Honesty Is A Gift Too Rare To Be Forgotten. My Heart Yearns To You,

Boy,  And Gladly Would I Do You Good."

The Youthful Warrior Listened To The Words,  Which Came From The Lips

Of The Other With A Force And Simplicity That Established Their Truth,

And He Bowed His Head On His Naked Bosom,  In Testimony Of The Respect

With Which He Met The Proffer. Then Lifting His Dark Eye To The Level

Of The View,  He Seemed To Be Again Considering Of Things Removed From

Every Personal Consideration. The Trapper,  Who Well Knew How High The

Pride Of A Warrior Would Sustain Him,  In Those Moments He Believed To

Be His Last,  Awaited The Pleasure Of His Young Friend,  With A Meekness

And Patience That He Had Acquired By His Association With That

Remarkable Race. At Length The Gaze Of The Pawnee Began To Waver; And

Then Quick,  Flashing Glances Were Turned From The Countenance Of The

Old Man To The Air,  And From The Air To His Deeply Marked Lineaments

Again,  As If The Spirit,  Which Governed Their Movements,  Was Beginning

To Be Troubled.

"Father," The Young Brave Finally Answered In A Voice Of Confidence

And Kindness,  "I Have Heard Your Words. They Have Gone In At My Ears,

And Are Now Within Me. The White-Headed Long-Knife Has No Son; The

Hard-Heart Of The Pawnees Is Young,  But He Is Already The Oldest Of

His Family. He Found The Bones Of His Father On The Hunting Ground Of

The Osages,  And He Has Sent Them To The Prairies Of The Good Spirits.

No Doubt The Great Chief,  His Father,  Has Seen Them,  And Knows What Is

Part Of Himself. But The Wahcondah Will Soon Call To Us Both; You,

Because You Have Seen All That Is To Be Seen In This Country; And

Hard-Heart,  Because He Has Need Of A Warrior,  Who Is Young. There Is

No Time For The Pawnee To Show The Pale-Face The Duty,  That A Son Owes

To His Father."

"Old As I Am,  And Miserable And Helpless As I Now Stand,  To What I

Once Was,  I May Live To See The Sun Go Down In The Prairie. Does My

Son Expect To Do As Much?"

"The Tetons Are Counting The Scalps On My Lodge!" Returned The Young

Chief,  With A Smile Whose Melancholy Was Singularly Illuminated By A

Gleam Of Triumph.

"And They Find Them Many. Too Many For The Safety Of Its Owner,  While

He Is In Their Revengeful Hands. My Son Is Not A Woman,  And He Looks

On The Path He Is About To Travel With A Steady Eye. Has He Nothing To

Whisper In The Ears Of His People,  Before He Starts? These Legs Are

Old,  But They May Yet Carry Me To The Forks Of The Loup River."

"Tell Them That Hard-Heart Has Tied A Knot In His Wampum For Every

Teton," Burst From The Lips Of The Captive,  With That Vehemence With

Which Sudden Passion Is Known To Break Through The Barriers Of

Artificial Restraint "If He Meets One Of Them All,  In The Prairies Of

The Master Of Life,  His Heart Will Become Sioux!"

"Ah That Feeling Would Be A Dangerous Companion For A Man With White

Gifts To Start With On So Solemn A Journey," Muttered The Old Man In

English. "This Is Not What The Good Moravians Said To The Councils Of

The Delawares,  Nor What Is So Often Preached,  To The White-Skins In

The Settlements,  Though,  To The Shame Of The Colour Be It Said,  It Is

So Little Heeded. Pawnee,  I Love You; But Being A Christian Man,  I

Cannot Be The Runner To Bear Such A Message."

"If My Father Is Afraid The Tetons Will Hear Him,  Let Him Whisper It

Softly To Our Old Men."

"As For Fear,  Young Warrior,  It Is No More The Shame Of A Pale-Face

Than Of A Red-Skin. The Wahcondah Teaches Us To Love The Life He

Gives; But It Is As Men Love Their Hunts,  And Their Dogs,  And Their

Carabines,  And Not With The Doting That A Mother Looks Upon Her

Infant. The Master Of Life Will Not Have To Speak Aloud Twice When He

Calls My Name. I Am As Ready To Answer To It Now,  As I Shall Be

To-Morrow,  Or At Any Time It May Please His Mighty Will. But What Is A

Warrior Without His Traditions? Mine Forbid Me To Carry Your Words."

The Chief Made A Dignified Motion Of Assent,  And Here There Was Great

Danger That Those Feelings Of Confidence,  Which Had Been So Singularly

Awakened,  Would As Suddenly Subside. But The Heart Of The Old Man Had

Been Too Sensibly Touched,  Through Long Dormant But Still Living

Recollections,  To Break Off The Communication So Rudely. He Pondered

For A Minute,  And Then Bending His Look Wistfully On His Young

Associate,  Again Continued--

"Each Warrior Must Be Judged By His Gifts. I Have Told My Son What I

Cannot,  But Let Him Open His Ears To What I Can Do. An Elk Shall Not

Measure The Prairie Much Swifter Than These Old Legs,  If The Pawnee

Will Give Me A Message That A White Man May Bear."

"Let The Pale-Face Listen," Returned The Other,  After Hesitating A

Single Instant Longer,  Under A Lingering Sensation Of His Former

Disappointment. "He Will Stay Here Till The Siouxes Have Done Counting

The Scalps Of Their Dead Warriors. He Will Wait Until They Have Tried

To Cover The Heads Of Eighteen Tetons With The Skin Of One Pawnee; He

Will Open His Eyes Wide,  That He May See The Place Where They Bury The

Bones Of A Warrior."

"All This Will I,  And May I,  Do,  Noble Boy."

"He Will Mark The Spot,  That He May Know It."

"No Fear,  No Fear That I Shall Forget The Place," Interrupted The

Other,  Whose Fortitude Began To Give Way Under So Trying An Exhibition

Of Calmness And Resignation.

"Then I Know That My Father Will Go To My People. His Head Is Grey,

And His Words Will Not Be Blown Away With The Smoke. Let Him Get On My

Lodge,  And Call The Name Of Hard-Heart Aloud. No Pawnee Will Be Deaf.

Then Let My Father Ask For The Colt,  That Has Never Been Ridden,  But

Which Is Sleeker Than The Buck,  And Swifter Than The Elk."

"I Understand You,  Boy,  I Understand You," Interrupted The Attentive

Old Man; "And What You Say Shall Be Done,  Ay,  And Well Done Too,  Or

I'm But Little Skilled In The Wishes Of A Dying Indian."

"And When My Young Men Have Given My Father The Halter Of That Colt,

He Will Lead Him By A Crooked Path To The Grave Of Hard-Heart?"

"Will I! Ay,  That I Will,  Brave Youth,  Though The Winter Covers These

Plains In Banks Of Snow,  And The Sun Is Hidden As Much By Day As By

Night. To The Head Of The Holy Spot Will I Lead The Beast,  And Place

Him With His Eyes Looking Towards The Setting Sun."

"And My Father Will Speak To Him,  And Tell Him,  That The Master,  Who

Has Fed Him Since He Was Foaled,  Has Now Need Of Him."

"That,  Too,  Will I Do; Though The Lord He Knows That I Shall Hold

Discourse With A Horse,  Not With Any Vain Conceit That My Words Will

Be Understood,  But Only To Satisfy The Cravings Of Indian

Superstition. Hector,  My Pup,  What Think You,  Dog,  Of Talking To A

Horse?"

"Let The Grey-Beard Speak To Him With The Tongue Of A Pawnee,"

Interrupted The Young Victim,  Perceiving That His Companion Had Used

An Unknown Language For The Preceding Speech.

"My Son's Will Shall Be Done. And With These Old Hands,  Which I Had

Hoped Had Nearly Done With Bloodshed,  Whether It Be Of Man Or Beast,

Will I Slay The Animal On Your Grave!"

"It Is Good," Returned The Other,  A Gleam Of Satisfaction Flitting

Across His Features. "Hard-Heart Will Ride His Horse To The Blessed

Prairies,  And He Will Come Before The Master Of Life Like A Chief!"

The Sudden And Striking Change,  Which Instantly Occurred In The

Countenance Of The Indian,  Caused The Trapper To Look Aside,  When He

Perceived That The Conference Of The Siouxes Had Ended,  And That

Mahtoree,  Attended By One Or Two Of The Principal Warriors,  Was

Deliberately Approaching His Intended Victim.

              I Am Not Prone To Weeping,  As Our Sex

              Commonly Are.

                      --But I Have That Honourable

              Grief Lodged Here,  Which Burns Worse Than

              Tears Drown

                                                   --Shakspeare.

When Within Twenty Feet Of The Prisoners,  The Tetons Stopped,  And

Their Leader Made A Sign To The Old Man To Draw Nigh. The Trapper

Obeyed,  Quitting The Young Pawnee With A Significant Look,  Which Was

Received,  As It Was Meant,  For An Additional Pledge That He Would

Never Forget His Promise.