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

Sort Of Magical Ring Of Spears,  Shields,  Lances And Arrows,  All Of

Which Had In Their Time Done Good Service,  Was Suspended The

Mysterious And Sacred Medicine-Bag. It Was Highly-Wrought In Wampum,

And Profusely Ornamented With Beads And Porcupine's Quills,  After The

Most Cunning Devices Of Indian Ingenuity. The Peculiar Freedom Of

Mahtoree's Religious Creed Has Been More Than Once Intimated,  And By A

Singular Species Of Contradiction,  He Appeared To Have Lavished His

Attentions On This Emblem Of A Supernatural Agency,  In A Degree That

Was Precisely Inverse To His Faith. It Was Merely The Manner In Which

The Sioux Imitated The Well-Known Expedient Of The Pharisees,  "In

Order That They Might Be Seen Of Men."

The Tent Had Not,  However,  Been Entered By Its Owner Since His Return

From The Recent Expedition. As The Reader Has Already Anticipated,  It

Had Been Made The Prison Of Inez And Ellen. The Bride Of Middleton Was

Seated On A Simple Couch Of Sweet-Scented Herbs Covered With Skins.

She Had Already Suffered So Much,  And Witnessed So Many Wild And

Unlooked-For Events,  Within The Short Space Of Her Captivity. That

Every Additional Misfortune Fell With A Diminished Force On Her

Seemingly Devoted Head. Her Cheeks Were Bloodless,  Her Dark And

Usually Animated Eye Was Contracted In An Expression Of Settled

Concern,  And Her Form Appeared Shrinking And Sensitive,  Nearly To

Extinction. But In The Midst Of These Evidences Of Natural Weakness,

There Were At Times Such An Air Of Pious Resignation,  Such Gleams Of

Meek But Holy Hope Lighting Her Countenance,  As Might Well Have

Rendered It A Question Whether The Hapless Captive Was Most A Subject

Of Pity,  Or Of Admiration. All The Precepts Of Father Ignatius Were

Riveted In Her Faithful Memory,  And Not A Few Of His Pious Visions

Were Floating Before Her Imagination. Sustained By So Sacred

Resolutions,  The Mild,  The Patient And The Confiding Girl Was Bowing

Her Head To This New Stroke Of Providence,  With The Same Sort Of

Meekness As She Would Have Submitted To Any Other Prescribed Penitence

For Her Sins,  Though Nature,  At Moments,  Warred Powerfully,  With So

Compelled A Humility.

On The Other Hand,  Ellen Had Exhibited Far More Of The Woman,  And

Consequently Of The Passions Of The World. She Had Wept Until Her Eyes

Were Swollen And Red. Her Cheeks Were Flushed And Angry,  And Her Whole

Mien Was Distinguished By An Air Of Spirit And Resentment,  That Was

Not A Little,  However,  Qualified By Apprehensions For The Future. In

Short,  There Was That About The Eye And Step Of The Betrothed Of Paul,

Which Gave A Warranty That Should Happier Times Arrive,  And The

Constancy Of The Bee-Hunter Finally Meet With Its Reward,  He Would

Possess A Partner Every Way Worthy To Cope With His Own Thoughtless

And Buoyant Temperament.

There Was Still Another And A Third Figure In That Little Knot Of

Females. It Was The Youngest,  The Most Highly Gifted,  And,  Until Now,

The Most Favoured Of The Wives Of The Teton. Her Charms Had Not Been

Without The Most Powerful Attraction In The Eyes Of Her Husband,  Until

They Had So Unexpectedly Opened On The Surpassing Loveliness Of A

Woman Of The Pale-Faces. From That Hapless Moment The Graces,  The

Attachment,  The Fidelity Of The Young Indian,  Had Lost Their Power To

Please. Still The Complexion Of Tachechana,  Though Less Dazzling Than

That Of Her Rival,  Was,  For Her Race,  Clear And Healthy. Her Hazel Eye

Had The Sweetness And Playfulness Of The Antelope's; Her Voice Was

Soft And Joyous As The Song Of The Wren,  And Her Happy Laugh Was The

Very Melody Of The Forest. Of All The Sioux Girls,  Tachechana (Or The

Fawn) Was The Lightest-Hearted And The Most Envied. Her Father Had

Been A Distinguished Brave,  And Her Brothers Had Already Left Their

Bones On A Distant And Dreary War-Path. Numberless Were The Warriors,

Who Had Sent Presents To The Lodge Of Her Parents,  But None Of Them

Were Listened To Until A Messenger From The Great Mahtoree Had Come.

She Was His Third Wife,  It Is True,  But She Was Confessedly The Most

Favoured Of Them All. Their Union Had Existed But Two Short Seasons,

And Its Fruits Now Lay Sleeping At Her Feet,  Wrapped In The Customary

Ligatures Of Skin And Bark,  Which Form The Swaddlings Of An Indian

Infant.

At The Moment,  When Mahtoree And The Trapper Arrived At The Opening Of

The Lodge,  The Young Sioux Wife Was Seated On A Simple Stool,  Turning

Her Soft Eyes,  With Looks That Varied,  Like Her Emotions,  With Love

And Wonder,  From The Unconscious Child To Those Rare Beings,  Who Had

Filled Her Youthful And Uninstructed Mind With So Much Admiration And

Astonishment. Though Inez And Ellen Had Passed An Entire Day In Her

Sight,  It Seemed As If The Longings Of Her Curiosity Were Increasing

With Each New Gaze. She Regarded Them As Beings Of An Entirely

Different Nature And Condition From The Females Of The Prairie. Even

The Mystery Of Their Complicated Attire Had Its Secret Influence On

Her Simple Mind,  Though It Was The Grace And Charms Of Sex,  To Which

Nature Has Made Every People So Sensible,  That Most Attracted Her

Admiration. But While Her Ingenuous Disposition Freely Admitted The

Superiority Of The Strangers Over The Less Brilliant Attractions Of

The Dahcotah Maidens,  She Had Seen No Reason To Deprecate Their

Advantages. The Visit That She Was Now About To Receive,  Was The First

Which Her Husband Had Made To The Tent Since His Return From The

Recent Inroad,  And He Was Ever Present To Her Thoughts,  As A

Successful Warrior,  Who Was Not Ashamed,  In The Moments Of Inaction,

To Admit The Softer Feelings Of A Father And A Husband.

We Have Every Where Endeavoured To Show That While Mahtoree Was In All

Essentials A Warrior Of The Prairies,  He Was Much In Advance Of His

People In Those Acquirements Which Announce The Dawnings Of

Civilisation. He Had Held Frequent Communion With The Traders And

Troops Of The Canadas,  And The Intercourse Had Unsettled Many Of Those

Wild Opinions Which Were His Birthright,  Without Perhaps Substituting

Any Others Of A Nature Sufficiently Definite To Be Profitable. His

Reasoning Was Rather Subtle Than True,  And His Philosophy Far More

Audacious Than Profound. Like Thousands Of More Enlightened Beings,

Who Fancy They Are Able To Go Through The Trials Of Human Existence

Without Any Other Support Than Their Own Resolutions,  His Morals Were

Accommodating And His Motive Selfish. These Several Characteristics

Will Be Understood Always With Reference To The Situation Of The

Indian,  Though Little Apology Is Needed For Finding Resemblances

Between Men,  Who Essentially Possess The Same Nature,  However It May

Be Modified By Circumstances.

Notwithstanding The Presence Of Inez And Ellen,  The Entrance Of The

Teton Warrior Into The Lodge Of His Favourite Wife,  Was Made With The

Tread And Mien Of A Master. The Step Of His Moccasin Was Noiseless,

But The Rattling Of His Bracelets,  And Of The Silver Ornaments Of His

Leggings,  Sufficed To Announce His Approach,  As He Pushed Aside The

Skin Covering Of The Opening Of The Tent,  And Stood In The Presence Of

Its Inmates. A Faint Cry Of Pleasure Burst From The Lips Of Tachechana

In The Suddenness Of Her Surprise,  But The Emotion Was Instantly

Suppressed In That Subdued Demeanour Which Should Characterise A

Matron Of Her Tribe. Instead Of Returning The Stolen Glance Of His

Youthful And Secretly Rejoicing Wife,  Mahtoree Moved To The Couch,

Occupied By His Prisoners,  And Placed Himself In The Haughty,  Upright

Attitude Of An Indian Chief,  Before Their Eyes. The Old Man Had Glided

Past Him,  And Already Taken A Position Suited To The Office He Had

Been Commanded To Fill.

Surprise Kept The Females Silent And Nearly Breathless. Though

Accustomed To The Sight Of Savage Warriors,  In The Horrid Panoply Of

Their Terrible Profession,  There Was Something So Startling In The

Entrance,  And So Audacious In The Inexplicable Look Of Their

Conqueror,  That The Eyes Of Both Sunk To The Earth,  Under A Feeling Of

Terror And Embarrassment. Then Inez Recovered Herself,  And Addressing

The Trapper,  She Demanded,  With The Dignity Of An Offended

Gentlewoman,  Though With Her Accustomed Grace,  To What Circumstance

They Owed This Extraordinary And Unexpected Visit. The Old Man

Hesitated; But Clearing His Throat,  Like One Who Was About To Make An

Effort To Which He Was Little Used,  He Ventured On The Following

Reply--

"Lady," He Said,  "A Savage Is A Savage,  And You Are Not To Look For

The Uses And Formalities Of The Settlements On A Bleak And Windy

Prairie. As These Indians Would Say,  Fashions And Courtesies Are

Things So Light,  That They Would Blow Away. As For Myself,  Though A

Man Of The Forest,  I Have Seen The Ways Of The Great,  In My Time,  And

I Am Not To Learn That They Differ From The Ways Of The Lowly. I Was

Long A Serving-Man In My Youth,  Not One Of Your Beck-And-Nod Runners

About A Household,  But A Man That Went Through The Servitude Of The

Forest With His Officer,  And Well Do I Know In What Manner To Approach

The Wife Of A Captain. Now,  Had I The Ordering Of This Visit,  I Would

First Have Hemmed Aloud At The Door,  In Order That You Might Hear That

Strangers Were Coming,  And Then I--"

"The Manner Is Indifferent," Interrupted Inez,  Too Anxious To Await

The Prolix Explanations Of The Old Man; "Why Is The Visit Made?"

"Therein Shall The Savage Speak For Himself. The Daughters Of The

Pale-Faces Wish To Know Why The Great Teton Has Come Into His Lodge?"

Mahtoree Regarded His Interrogator With A Surprise,  Which Showed How

Extraordinary He Deemed The Question. Then Placing Himself In A

Posture Of Condescension,  After A Moment's Delay,  He Answered--

"Sing In The Ears Of The Dark-Eye. Tell Her The Lodge Of Mahtoree Is

Very Large,  And That It Is Not Full. She Shall Find Room In It,  And

None Shall Be Greater Than She. Tell The Light-Hair,  That She Too May

Stay In The Lodge Of A Brave,  And Eat Of His Venison. Mahtoree Is A

Great Chief. His Hand Is Never Shut."

"Teton," Returned The Trapper,  Shaking His Head In Evidence Of The

Strong Disapprobation With Which He Heard This Language,  "The Tongue

Of A Red-Skin Must Be Coloured White,  Before It Can Make Music In The

Ears Of A Pale-Face. Should Your Words Be Spoken,  My Daughters Would

Shut Their Ears,  And Mahtoree