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

Making Way For The Recent Comers To Approach. Middleton Took One Of

The Meagre Hands Of The Trapper,  And Struggling To Command His Voice,

He Succeeded In Announcing His Presence. The Old Man Listened Like One

Whose Thoughts Were Dwelling On A Very Different Subject,  But When The

Other Had Succeeded In Making Him Understand,  That He Was Present,  An

Expression Of Joyful Recognition Passed Over His Faded Features--"I

Hope You Have Not So Soon Forgotten Those,  Whom You So Materially

Served!" Middleton Concluded. "It Would Pain Me To Think My Hold On

Your Memory Was So Light."

"Little That I Have Ever Seen Is Forgotten," Returned The Trapper: "I

Am At The Close Of Many Weary Days,  But There Is Not One Among Them

All,  That I Could Wish To Overlook. I Remember You With The Whole Of

Your Company; Ay,  And Your Grand'ther,  That Went Before You. I Am

Glad,  That You Have Come Back Upon These Plains,  For I Had Need Of

One,  Who Speaks The English,  Since Little Faith Can Be Put In The

Traders Of These Regions. Will You Do A Favour To An Old And Dying

Man?"

"Name It," Said Middleton; "It Shall Be Done."

"It Is A Far Journey To Send Such Trifles," Resumed The Old Man,  Who

Spoke At Short Intervals,  As Strength And Breath Permitted; "A Far And

Weary Journey Is The Same; But Kindnesses And Friendships Are Things

Not To Be Forgotten. There Is A Settlement Among The Otsego Hills--"

"I Know The Place," Interrupted Middleton,  Observing That He Spoke

With Increasing Difficulty; "Proceed To Tell Me,  What You Would Have

Done."

"Take This Rifle,  And Pouch,  And Horn,  And Send Them To The Person,

Whose Name Is Graven On The Plates Of The Stock,--A Trader Cut The

Letters With His Knife,--For It Is Long,  That I Have Intended To Send

Him Such A Token Of My Love."

"It Shall Be So. Is There More That You Could Wish?"

"Little Else Have I To Bestow. My Traps I Give To My Indian Son; For

Honestly And Kindly Has He Kept His Faith. Let Him Stand Before Me."

Middleton Explained To The Chief What The Trapper Had Said And

Relinquished His Own Place To The Other.

"Pawnee," Continued The Old Man,  Always Changing His Language To Suit

The Person He Addressed,  And Not Unfrequently According To The Ideas

He Expressed,  "It Is A Custom Of My People For The Father To Leave His

Blessing With The Son,  Before He Shuts His Eves For Ever. This

Blessing I Give To You; Take It,  For The Prayers Of A Christian Man

Will Never Make The Path Of A Just Warrior,  To The Blessed Prairies,

Either Longer,  Or More Tangled. May The God Of A White Man Look On

Your Deeds With Friendly Eyes,  And May You Never Commit An Act,  That

Shall Cause Him To Darken His Face. I Know Not Whether We Shall Ever

Meet Again. There Are Many Traditions Concerning The Place Of Good

Spirits. It Is Not For One Like Me,  Old And Experienced Though I Am,

To Set Up My Opinions Against A Nation's. You Believe In The Blessed

Prairies,  And I Have Faith In The Sayings Of My Fathers. If Both Are

True,  Our Parting Will Be Final; But If It Should Prove,  That The Same

Meaning Is Hid Under Different Words,  We Shall Yet Stand Together,

Pawnee,  Before The Face Of Your Wahcondah,  Who Will Then Be No Other

Than My God. There Is Much To Be Said In Favour Of Both Religions,  For

Each Seems Suited To Its Own People,  And No Doubt It Was So Intended.

I Fear,  I Have Not Altogether Followed The Gifts Of My Colour,

Inasmuch As I Find It A Little Painful To Give Up For Ever The Use Of

The Rifle,  And The Comforts Of The Chase. But Then The Fault Has Been

My Own,  Seeing That It Could Not Have Been His. Ay,  Hector," He

Continued,  Leaning Forward A Little,  And Feeling For The Ears Of The

Hound,  "Our Parting Has Come At Last,  Dog,  And It Will Be A Long Hunt.

You Have Been An Honest,  And A Bold,  And A Faithful Hound. Pawnee,  You

Cannot Slay The Pup On My Grave,  For Where A Christian Dog Falls,

There He Lies For Ever; But You Can Be Kind To Him,  After I Am Gone,

For The Love You Bear His Master."

"The Words Of My Father Are In My Ears," Returned The Young Partisan,

Making A Grave And Respectful Gesture Of Assent.

"Do You Hear,  What The Chief Has Promised,  Dog?" Demanded The Trapper,

Making An Effort To Attract The Notice Of The Insensible Effigy Of His

Hound. Receiving No Answering Look,  Nor Hearing Any Friendly Whine,

The Old Man Felt For The Mouth And Endeavoured To Force His Hand

Between The Cold Lips. The Truth Then Flashed Upon Him,  Although He

Was Far From Perceiving The Whole Extent Of The Deception. Falling

Back In His Seat,  He Hung His Head,  Like One Who Felt A Severe And

Unexpected Shock. Profiting By This Momentary Forgetfulness,  Two Young

Indians Removed The Skin With The Same Delicacy Of Feeling,  That Had

Induced Them To Attempt The Pious Fraud.

"The Dog Is Dead!" Muttered The Trapper,  After A Pause Of Many

Minutes; "A Hound Has His Time As Well As A Man And Well Has He Filled

His Days! Captain," He Added,  Making An Effort To Wave His Hand For

Middleton,  "I Am Glad You Have Come; For Though Kind,  And Well Meaning

According To The Gifts Of Their Colour,  These Indians Are Not The Men,

To Lay The Head Of A White Man In His Grave. I Have Been Thinking Too,

Of This Dog At My Feet; It Will Not Do To Set Forth The Opinion,  That

A Christian Can Expect To Meet His Hound Again; Still There Can Be

Little Harm In Placing What Is Left Of So Faithful A Servant Nigh The

Bones Of His Master."

"It Shall Be As You Desire."

"I'm Glad,  You Think With Me In This Matter. In Order Then To Save

Labour,  Lay The Pup At My Feet,  Or For That Matter Put Him,  Side By

Side. A Hunter Need Never Be Ashamed To Be Found In Company With His

Dog!"

"I Charge Myself With Your Wish."

The Old Man Made A Long,  And Apparently A Musing Pause. At Times He

Raised His Eyes Wistfully,  As If He Would Again Address Middleton,  But

Some Innate Feeling Appeared Always To Suppress His Words. The Other,

Who Observed His Hesitation,  Enquired In A Way Most Likely To

Encourage Him To Proceed,  Whether There Was Aught Else That He Could

Wish To Have Done.

"I Am Without Kith Or Kin In The Wide World!" The Trapper Answered:

"When I Am Gone,  There Will Be An End Of My Race. We Have Never Been

Chiefs; But Honest And Useful In Our Way,  I Hope It Cannot Be Denied,

We Have Always Proved Ourselves. My Father Lies Buried Near The Sea,

And The Bones Of His Son Will Whiten On The Prairies--"

"Name The Spot,  And Your Remains Shall Be Placed By The Side Of Your

Father," Interrupted Middleton.

"Not So,  Not So,  Captain. Let Me Sleep,  Where I Have Lived,  Beyond The

Din Of The Settlements! Still I See No Need,  Why The Grave Of An

Honest Man Should Be Hid,  Like A Red-Skin In His Ambushment. I Paid A

Man In The Settlements To Make And Put A Graven Stone At The Head Of

My Father's Resting Place. It Was Of The Value Of Twelve Beaver-Skins,

And Cunningly And Curiously Was It Carved! Then It Told To All Comers

That The Body Of Such A Christian Lay Beneath; And It Spoke Of His

Manner Of Life,  Of His Years,  And Of His Honesty. When We Had Done

With The Frenchers In The Old War,  I Made A Journey To The Spot,  In

Order To See That All Was Rightly Performed,  And Glad I Am To Say,  The

Workman Had Not Forgotten His Faith."

"And Such A Stone You Would Have At Your Grave?"

"I! No,  No,  I Have No Son,  But Hard-Heart,  And It Is Little That An

Indian Knows Of White Fashions And Usages. Besides I Am His Debtor,

Already,  Seeing It Is So Little I Have Done,  Since I Have Lived In His

Tribe. The Rifle Might Bring The Value Of Such A Thing--But Then I

Know,  It Will Give The Boy Pleasure To Hang The Piece In His Hall,  For

Many Is The Deer And The Bird That He Has Seen It Destroy. No,  No,  The

Gun Must Be Sent To Him,  Whose Name Is Graven On The Lock!"

"But There Is One,  Who Would Gladly Prove His Affection In The Way You

Wish; He,  Who Owes You Not Only His Own Deliverance From So Many

Dangers,  But Who Inherits A Heavy Debt Of Gratitude From His

Ancestors. The Stone Shall Be Put At The Head Of Your Grave"

The Old Man Extended His Emaciated Hand,  And Gave The Other A Squeeze

Of Thanks.

"I Thought,  You Might Be Willing To Do It,  But I Was Backward In

Asking The Favour," He Said,  "Seeing That You Are Not Of My Kin. Put

No Boastful Words On The Same,  But Just The Name,  The Age,  And The

Time Of The Death,  With Something From The Holy Book; No More No More.

My Name Will Then Not Be Altogether Lost On 'Arth; I Need No More."

Middleton Intimated His Assent,  And Then Followed A Pause,  That Was

Only Broken By Distant And Broken Sentences From The Dying Man. He

Appeared Now To Have Closed His Accounts With The World,  And To Await

Merely For The Final Summons To Quit It. Middleton And Hard-Heart

Placed Themselves On The Opposite Sides Of His Seat,  And Watched With

Melancholy Solicitude,  The Variations Of His Countenance. For Two

Hours There Was No Very Sensible Alteration. The Expression Of His

Faded And Time-Worn Features Was That Of A Calm And Dignified Repose.

From Time To Time He Spoke,  Uttering Some Brief Sentence In The Way Of

Advice,  Or Asking Some Simple Questions Concerning Those In Whose

Fortunes He Still Took A Friendly Interest. During The Whole Of That

Solemn And Anxious Period Each Individual Of The Tribe Kept His Place,

In The Most Self-Restrained Patience. When The Old Man Spoke,  All Bent

Their Heads To Listen;