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

His Intention To Look To The Safety Of The Camp In Person. When All

Was Still,  He Walked Out Upon The Prairie,  With A Sort Of Sensation

That He Found His Breathing Among The Tents Too Straitened. The Night

Was Well Adapted To Heighten The Feelings,  Which Had Been Created By

The Events Of The Day.

The Wind Had Risen With The Moon,  And It Was Occasionally Sweeping

Over The Plain,  In A Manner That Made It Not Difficult For The

Sentinel To Imagine Strange And Unearthly Sounds Were Mingling In The

Blasts. Yielding To The Extraordinary Impulses Of Which He Was The

Subject,  He Cast A Glance Around,  To See That All Were Slumbering In

Security,  And Then He Strayed Towards The Swell Of Land Already

Mentioned. Here The Squatter Found Himself At A Point That Commanded A

View To The East And To The West. Light Fleecy Clouds Were Driving

Before The Moon,  Which Was Cold And Watery Though There Were Moments,

When Its Placid Rays Were Shed From Clear Blue Fields,  Seeming To

Soften Objects To Its Own Mild Loveliness.

For The First Time,  In A Life Of So Much Wild Adventure,  Ishmael Felt

A Keen Sense Of Solitude. The Naked Prairies Began To Assume The Forms

Of Illimitable And Dreary Wastes And The Rushing Of The Wind Sounded

Like The Whisperings Of The Dead. It Was Not Long Before He Thought A

Shriek Was Borne Past Him On A Blast. It Did Not Sound Like A Call

From Earth But It Swept Frightfully Through The Upper Air Mingled With

The Hoarse Accompaniment Of The Wind. The Teeth Of The Squatter Were

Compressed,  And His Huge Hand Grasped The Rifle,  As If It Would Crush

The Metal. Then Came A Lull,  A Fresher Blast,  And A Cry Of Horror That

Seemed To Have Been Uttered At The Very Portals Of His Ears. A Sort Of

Echo Burst Involuntarily From His Own Lips,  As Men Shout Under

Unnatural Excitement,  And Throwing His Rifle Across His Shoulder He

Proceeded Towards The Rock With The Strides Of A Giant.

It Was Not Often That The Blood Of Ishmael Moved At The Rate With

Which The Fluid Circulates In The Veins Of Ordinary Men; But Now He

Felt It Ready To Gush From Every Pore In His Body. The Animal Was

Aroused,  In His Most Latent Energies. Ever As He Advanced He Heard

Those Shrieks,  Which Sometimes Seemed Ringing Among The Clouds,  And

Sometimes Passed So Nigh,  As To Appear To Brush The Earth. At Length

There Came A Cry,  In Which There Could Be No Delusion,  Or To Which The

Imagination Could Lend No Horror. It Appeared To Fill Each Cranny Of

The Air,  As The Visible Horizon Is Often Charged To Fulness By One

Dazzling Flash Of The Electric Fluid. The Name Of God Was Distinctly

Audible,  But It Was Awfully And Blasphemously Blended With Sounds That

May Not Be Repeated. The Squatter Stopped,  And For A Moment He Covered

His Ears With His Hands. When He Withdrew The Latter,  A Low And Husky

Voice At His Elbow Asked In Smothered Tones--

"Ishmael,  My Man,  Heard Ye Nothing?"

"Hist," Returned The Husband,  Laying A Powerful Arm On Esther,  Without

Manifesting The Smallest Surprise At The Unlooked-For Presence Of His

Wife. "Hist,  Woman! If You Have The Fear Of Heaven,  Be Still!"

A Profound Silence Succeeded. Though The Wind Rose And Fell As Before,

Its Rushing Was No Longer Mingled With Those Fearful Cries. The Sounds

Were Imposing And Solemn,  But It Was The Solemnity And Majesty Of

Nature.

"Let Us Go On," Said Esther; "All Is Hushed."

"Woman,  What Has Brought You Here?" Demanded Her Husband,  Whose Blood

Had Returned Into Its Former Channels,  And Whose Thoughts Had Already

Lost A Portion Of Their Excitement.

"Ishmael,  He Murdered Our First-Born; But It Is Not Meet That The Son

Of My Mother Should Lie Upon The Ground,  Like The Carrion Of A Dog!"

"Follow," Returned The Squatter,  Again Grasping His Rifle,  And

Striding Towards The Rock. The Distance Was Still Considerable; And

Their Approach,  As They Drew Nigh The Place Of Execution,  Was

Moderated By Awe. Many Minutes Had Passed,  Before They Reached A Spot

Where They Might Distinguish The Outlines Of The Dusky Objects.

"Where Have You Put The Body?" Whispered Esther. "See,  Here Are Pick

And Spade,  That A Brother Of Mine May Sleep In The Bosom Of The

Earth!"

The Moon Broke From Behind A Mass Of Clouds,  And The Eye Of The Woman

Was Enabled To Follow The Finger Of Ishmael. It Pointed To A Human

Form Swinging In The Wind,  Beneath The Ragged And Shining Arm Of The

Willow. Esther Bent Her Head And Veiled Her Eyes From The Sight. But

Ishmael Drew Nigher,  And Long Contemplated His Work In Awe,  Though Not

In Compunction. The Leaves Of The Sacred Book Were Scattered On The

Ground,  And Even A Fragment Of The Shelf Had Been Displaced By The

Kidnapper In His Agony. But All Was Now In The Stillness Of Death. The

Grim And Convulsed Countenance Of The Victim Was At Times Brought Full

Into The Light Of The Moon,  And Again As The Wind Lulled,  The Fatal

Rope Drew A Dark Line Across Its Bright Disk. The Squatter Raised His

Rifle,  With Extreme Care,  And Fired. The Cord Was Cut And The Body

Came Lumbering To The Earth A Heavy And Insensible Mass.

Until Now Esther Had Not Moved Nor Spoken. But Her Hand Was Not Slow

To Assist In The Labour Of The Hour. The Grave Was Soon Dug. It Was

Instantly Made To Receive Its Miserable Tenant. As The Lifeless Form

Descended,  Esther,  Who Sustained The Head,  Looked Up Into The Face Of

Her Husband With An Expression Of Anguish,  And Said--

"Ishmael,  My Man,  It Is Very Terrible! I Cannot Kiss The Corpse Of My

Father's Child!"

The Squatter Laid His Broad Hand On The Bosom Of The Dead,  And Said--

"Abiram White,  We All Have Need Of Mercy; From My Soul Do I Forgive

You! May God In Heaven Have Pity On Your Sins!"

The Woman Bowed Her Face And Imprinted Her Lips Long And Fervently On

The Pallid Forehead Of Her Brother. After This Came The Falling Clods

And All The Solemn Sounds Of Filling A Grave. Esther Lingered On Her

Knees,  And Ishmael Stood Uncovered While The Woman Muttered A Prayer.

All Was Then Finished.

On The Following Morning The Teams And Herds Of The Squatter Were Seen

Pursuing Their Course Towards The Settlements. As They Approached The

Confines Of Society The Train Was Blended Among A Thousand Others.

Though Some Of The Numerous Descendants Of This Peculiar Pair Were

Reclaimed From Their Lawless And Semi-Barbarous Lives,  The Principals

Of The Family,  Themselves,  Were Never Heard Of More.

              --No Leave Take I; For I Will Ride

              As Far As Land Will Let Me,  By Your Side.

                                                   --Shakspeare.

The Passage Of The Pawnee To His Village Was Interrupted By No Scene

Of Violence. His Vengeance Had Been As Complete As It Was Summary. Not

Even A Solitary Scout Of The Siouxes Was Left On The Hunting Grounds

He Was Obliged To Traverse,  And Of Course The Journey Of Middleton's

Party Was As Peaceful As If Made In The Bosom Of The States. The

Marches Were Timed To Meet The Weakness Of The Females. In Short,  The

Victors Seemed To Have Lost Every Trace Of Ferocity With Their

Success,  And Appeared Disposed To Consult The Most Trifling Of The

Wants Of That Engrossing People,  Who Were Daily Encroaching On Their

Rights,  And Reducing The Red-Men Of The West,  From Their State Of

Proud Independence To The Condition Of Fugitives And Wanderers.

Our Limits Will Not Permit A Detail Of The Triumphal Entry Of The

Conquerors. The Exultation Of The Tribe Was Proportioned To Its

Previous Despondency. Mothers Boasted Of The Honourable Deaths Of

Their Sons; Wives Proclaimed The Honour And Pointed To The Scars Of

Their Husbands,  And Indian Girls Rewarded The Young Braves With Songs

Of Triumph. The Trophies Of Their Fallen Enemies Were Exhibited,  As

Conquered Standards Are Displayed In More Civilised Regions. The Deeds

Of Former Warriors Were Recounted By The Aged Men,  And Declared To Be

Eclipsed By The Glory Of This Victory. While Hard-Heart Himself,  So

Distinguished For His Exploits From Boyhood To That Hour,  Was

Unanimously Proclaimed And Re-Proclaimed The Worthiest Chief And The

Stoutest Brave That The Wahcondah Had Ever Bestowed On His Most

Favoured Children,  The Pawnees Of The Loup.

Notwithstanding The Comparative Security In Which Middleton Found His

Recovered Treasure,  He Was Not Sorry To See His Faithful And Sturdy

Artillerists Standing Among The Throng,  As He Entered In The Wild

Train,  And Lifting Their Voices,  In A Martial Shout,  To Greet His

Return. The Presence Of This Force,  Small As It Was,  Removed Every

Shadow Of Uneasiness From His Mind. It Made Him Master Of His

Movements,  Gave Him Dignity And Importance In The Eyes Of His New

Friends,  And Would Enable Him To Overcome The Difficulties Of The Wide

Region Which Still Lay Between The Village Of The Pawnees And The

Nearest Fortress Of His Countrymen. A Lodge Was Yielded To The

Exclusive Possession Of Inez And Ellen; And Even Paul,  When He Saw An

Armed Sentinel In The Uniform Of The States,  Pacing Before Its

Entrance,  Was Content To Stray Among The Dwellings Of The "Red-Skins,"

Prying With But Little Reserve Into Their Domestic Economy,  Commenting

Sometimes Jocularly,  Sometimes Gravely,  And Always Freely,  On Their

Different Expedients,  Or Endeavouring To Make The Wondering Housewives

Comprehend His Quaint Explanations Of What He Conceived