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

The Route Of The Party Led Them At No Great Distance From One Of Those

Watchful Youths,  Who Was Charged With A Trust Heavy As The Principal

Wealth Of His Tribe. He Heard The Trampling Of The Horses,  And Cast

His Eye Aside,  But Instead Of Manifesting Curiosity Or Alarm,  His Look

Instantly Returned Whence It Had Been Withdrawn,  To The Spot Where The

Village Was Known To Stand.

"There Is Something Remarkable In All This," Muttered Middleton,  Half

Offended At What He Conceived To Be Not Only A Slight To His Rank,  But

Offensive To Himself,  Personally; "Yonder Boy Has Heard Of Our

Approach,  Or He Would Not Fail To Notify His Tribe; And Yet He

Scarcely Deigns To Favour Us With A Glance. Look To Your Arms,  Men; It

May Be Necessary To Let These Savages Feel Our Strength."

"Therein,  Captain,  I Think You're In An Error," Returned Paul,  "If

Honesty Is To Be Met On The Prairies At All,  You Will Find It In Our

Old Friend Hard-Heart; Neither Is An Indian To Be Judged Of By The

Rules Of A White. See! We Are Not Altogether Slighted,  For Here Comes

A Party At Last To Meet Us,  Though It Is A Little Pitiful As To Show

And Numbers."

Paul Was Right In Both Particulars. A Group Of Horsemen Were At Length

Seen Wheeling Round A Little Copse,  And Advancing Across The Plain

Directly Towards Them. The Advance Of This Party Was Slow And

Dignified. As It Drew Nigh,  The Partisan Of The Loups Was Seen At Its

Head,  Followed By A Dozen Younger Warriors Of His Tribe. They Were All

Unarmed,  Nor Did They Even Wear Any Of Those Ornaments Or Feathers,

Which Are Considered Testimonials Of Respect To The Guest An Indian

Receives,  As Well As Evidence Of His Own Importance.

The Meeting Was Friendly,  Though A Little Restrained On Both Sides.

Middleton,  Jealous Of His Own Consideration No Less Than Of The

Authority Of His Government,  Suspected Some Undue Influence On The

Part Of The Agents Of The Canadas; And,  As He Was Determined To

Maintain The Authority Of Which He Was The Representative,  He Felt

Himself Constrained To Manifest A Hauteur,  That He Was Far From

Feeling. It Was Not So Easy To Penetrate The Motives Of The Pawnees.

Calm,  Dignified,  And Yet Far From Repulsive,  They Set An Example Of

Courtesy,  Blended With Reserve,  That Many A Diplomatist Of The Most

Polished Court Might Have Strove In Vain To Imitate.

In This Manner The Two Parties Continued Their Course To The Town.

Middleton Had Time,  During The Remainder Of The Ride,  To Revolve In

His Mind,  All The Probable Reasons Which His Ingenuity Could Suggest

For This Strange Reception. Although He Was Accompanied By A Regular

Interpreter,  The Chiefs Made Their Salutations In A Manner That

Dispensed With His Services. Twenty Times The Captain Turned His

Glance On His Former Friend,  Endeavouring To Read The Expression Of

His Rigid Features. But Every Effort And All Conjectures Proved

Equally Futile. The Eye Of Hard-Heart Was Fixed,  Composed,  And A

Little Anxious; But As To Every Other Emotion,  Impenetrable. He

Neither Spoke Himself,  Nor Seemed Willing To Invite Discourse In His

Visiters; It Was Therefore Necessary For Middleton To Adopt The

Patient Manners Of His Companions,  And To Await The Issue For The

Explanation.

When They Entered The Town,  Its Inhabitants Were Seen Collected In An

Open Space,  Where They Were Arranged With The Customary Deference To

Age And Rank. The Whole Formed A Large Circle,  In The Centre Of Which,

Were Perhaps A Dozen Of The Principal Chiefs. Hard-Heart Waved His

Hand As He Approached,  And,  As The Mass Of Bodies Opened,  He Rode

Through,  Followed By His Companions. Here They Dismounted; And As The

Beasts Were Led Apart,  The Strangers Found Themselves Environed By A

Thousand,  Grave,  Composed,  But Solicitous Faces.

Middleton Gazed About Him,  In Growing Concern,  For No Cry,  No Song,  No

Shout Welcomed Him Among A People,  From Whom He Had So Lately Parted

With Regret. His Uneasiness,  Not To Say Apprehensions,  Was Shared By

All His Followers. Determination And Stern Resolution Began To Assume

The Place Of Anxiety In Every Eye,  As Each Man Silently Felt For His

Arms,  And Assured Himself,  That His Several Weapons Were In A State

For Service. But There Was No Answering Symptom Of Hostility On The

Part Of Their Hosts. Hard-Heart Beckoned For Middleton And Paul To

Follow,  Leading The Way Towards The Cluster Of Forms,  That Occupied

The Centre Of The Circle. Here The Visiters Found A Solution Of All

The Movements,  Which Had Given Them So Much Reason For Apprehension.

The Trapper Was Placed On A Rude Seat,  Which Had Been Made,  With

Studied Care,  To Support His Frame In An Upright And Easy Attitude.

The First Glance Of The Eye Told His Former Friends,  That The Old Man

Was At Length Called Upon To Pay The Last Tribute Of Nature. His Eye

Was Glazed,  And Apparently As Devoid Of Sight As Of Expression. His

Features Were A Little More Sunken And Strongly Marked Than Formerly;

But There,  All Change,  So Far As Exterior Was Concerned,  Might Be Said

To Have Ceased. His Approaching End Was Not To Be Ascribed To Any

Positive Disease,  But Had Been A Gradual And Mild Decay Of The

Physical Powers. Life,  It Is True,  Still Lingered In His System; But

It Was As If At Times Entirely Ready To Depart,  And Then It Would

Appear To Re-Animate The Sinking Form,  Reluctant To Give Up The

Possession Of A Tenement,  That Had Never Been Corrupted By Vice,  Or

Undermined By Disease. It Would Have Been No Violent Fancy To Have

Imagined,  That The Spirit Fluttered About The Placid Lips Of The Old

Woodsman,  Reluctant To Depart From A Shell,  That Had So Long Given It

An Honest And An Honourable Shelter.

His Body Was Placed So As To Let The Light Of The Setting Sun Fall

Full Upon The Solemn Features. His Head Was Bare,  The Long,  Thin,

Locks Of Grey Fluttering Lightly In The Evening Breeze. His Rifle Lay

Upon His Knee,  And The Other Accoutrements Of The Chase Were Placed At

His Side,  Within Reach Of His Hand. Between His Feet Lay The Figure Of

A Hound,  With Its Head Crouching To The Earth As If It Slumbered; And

So Perfectly Easy And Natural Was Its Position,  That A Second Glance

Was Necessary To Tell Middleton,  He Saw Only The Skin Of Hector,

Stuffed By Indian Tenderness And Ingenuity In A Manner To Represent

The Living Animal. His Own Dog Was Playing At A Distance,  With The

Child Of Tachechana And Mahtoree. The Mother Herself Stood At Hand,

Holding In Her Arms A Second Offspring,  That Might Boast Of A

Parentage No Less Honourable,  Than That Which Belonged To The Son Of

Hard-Heart. Le Balafre Was Seated Nigh The Dying Trapper,  With Every

Mark About His Person,  That The Hour Of His Own Departure Was Not Far

Distant. The Rest Of Those Immediately In The Centre Were Aged Men,

Who Had Apparently Drawn Near,  In Order To Observe The Manner,  In

Which A Just And Fearless Warrior Would Depart On The Greatest Of His

Journeys.

The Old Man Was Reaping The Rewards Of A Life Remarkable For

Temperance And Activity,  In A Tranquil And Placid Death. His Vigour In

A Manner Endured To The Very Last. Decay,  When It Did Occur,  Was

Rapid,  But Free From Pain. He Had Hunted With The Tribe In The Spring,

And Even Throughout Most Of The Summer,  When His Limbs Suddenly

Refused To Perform Their Customary Offices. A Sympathising Weakness

Took Possession Of All His Faculties; And The Pawnees Believed,  That

They Were Going To Lose,  In This Unexpected Manner,  A Sage And

Counsellor,  Whom They Had Begun Both To Love And Respect. But As We

Have Already Said,  The Immortal Occupant Seemed Unwilling To Desert

Its Tenement. The Lamp Of Life Flickered Without Becoming

Extinguished. On The Morning Of The Day,  On Which Middleton Arrived,

There Was A General Reviving Of The Powers Of The Whole Man. His

Tongue Was Again Heard In Wholesome Maxims,  And His Eye From Time To

Time Recognised The Persons Of His Friends. It Merely Proved To Be A

Brief And Final Intercourse With The World On The Part Of One,  Who Had

Already Been Considered,  As To Mental Communion,  To Have Taken His

Leave Of It For Ever.

When He Had Placed His Guests In Front Of The Dying Man,  Hard-Heart,

After A Pause,  That Proceeded As Much From Sorrow As Decorum,  Leaned A

Little Forward And Demanded--

"Does My Father Hear The Words Of His Son?"

"Speak," Returned The Trapper,  In Tones That Issued From His Chest,

But Which Were Rendered Awfully Distinct By The Stillness That Reigned

In The Place. "I Am About To Depart From The Village Of The Loups,  And

Shortly Shall Be Beyond The Reach Of Your Voice."

"Let The Wise Chief Have No Cares For His Journey," Continued Hard-

Heart With An Earnest Solicitude,  That Led Him To Forget,  For The

Moment,  That Others Were Waiting To Address His Adopted Parent; "A

Hundred Loups Shall Clear His Path From Briars."

"Pawnee,  I Die As I Have Lived,  A Christian Man," Resumed The Trapper

With A Force Of Voice That Had The Same Startling Effect Upon His

Hearers,  As Is Produced By The Trumpet,  When Its Blast Rises Suddenly

And Freely On The Air,  After Its Obstructed Sounds Have Been Heard

Struggling In The Distance: "As I Came Into Life So Will I Leave It.

Horses And Arms Are Not Needed To Stand In The Presence Of The Great

Spirit Of My People. He Knows My Colour,  And According To My Gifts

Will He Judge My Deeds."

"My Father Will Tell My Young Men,  How Many Mingoes He Has Struck,  And

What Acts Of Valour And Justice He Has Done,  That They May Know How To

Imitate Him."

"A Boastful Tongue Is Not Heard In The Heaven Of A White Man,"

Solemnly Returned The Old Man. "What I Have Done,  He Has Seen. His

Eyes Are Always Open. That,  Which Has Been Well Done,  Will He

Remember; Wherein I Have Been Wrong Will He Not Forget To Chastise,

Though He Will Do The Same In Mercy. No,  My Son; A Pale-Face May Not

Sing His Own Praises,  And Hope To Have Them Acceptable Before His

God."

A Little Disappointed,  The Young Partisan Stepped Modestly