The Prairie (Fiscle Part 3) Of 2, J Fenimore Cooper [best e reader for manga txt] 📗
- Author: J Fenimore Cooper
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Mahtoree, Has Ever Struck A Pale-Face? Not One. But Mahtoree Must Be
Silent. Every Teton Will Shut His Ears When He Speaks. The Scalps Over
His Lodge Were Taken By The Women. They Were Taken By Mahtoree, And He
Is A Woman. His Mouth Is Shut; He Waits For The Feasts To Sing Among
The Girls!"
Notwithstanding The Exclamations Of Regret And Resentment, Which
Followed So Abasing A Declaration, The Chief Took His Seat, As If
Determined To Speak No More. But The Murmurs Grew Louder And More
General, And There Were Threatening Symptoms That The Council Would
Dissolve Itself In Confusion; And He Arose And Resumed His Speech, By
Changing His Manner To The Fierce And Hurried Enunciation Of A Warrior
Bent On Revenge.
"Let My Young Men Go Look For Tetao!" He Cried; "They Will Find His
Scalp Drying In Pawnee Smoke. Where Is The Son Of Bohrecheena? His
Bones Are Whiter Than The Faces Of His Murderers. Is Mahhah Asleep In
His Lodge? You Know It Is Many Moons Since He Started For The Blessed
Prairies; Would He Were Here, That He Might Say Of What Colour Was The
Hand That Took His Scalp!"
In This Strain The Artful Chief Continued For Many Minutes, Calling
Those Warriors By Name, Who Were Known To Have Met Their Deaths In
Battle With The Pawnees, Or In Some Of Those Lawless Frays Which So
Often Occurred Between The Sioux Bands And A Class Of White Men, Who
Were But Little Removed From Them In The Qualities Of Civilisation.
Time Was Not Given To Reflect On The Merits, Or Rather The Demerits,
Of Most Of The Different Individuals To Whom He Alluded, In
Consequence Of The Rapid Manner In Which He Ran Over Their Names; But
So Cunningly Did He Time His Events, And So Thrillingly Did He Make
His Appeals, Aided As They Were By The Power Of His Deep-Toned And
Stirring Voice, That Each Of Them Struck An Answering Chord In The
Breast Of Some One Of His Auditors.
It Was In The Midst Of One Of His Highest Flights Of Eloquence, That A
Man, So Aged As To Walk With The Greatest Difficulty, Entered The Very
Centre Of The Circle, And Took His Stand Directly In Front Of The
Speaker. An Ear Of Great Acuteness Might Possibly Have Detected That
The Tones Of The Orator Faltered A Little, As His Flashing Look First
Fell On This Unexpected Object, Though The Change Was So Trifling,
That None, But Such As Thoroughly Knew The Parties, Would Have
Suspected It. The Stranger Had Once Been As Distinguished For His
Beauty And Proportions, As Had Been His Eagle Eye For Its Irresistible
And Terrible Glance. But His Skin Was Now Wrinkled, And His Features
Furrowed With So Many Scars, As To Have Obtained For Him, Half A
Century Before, From The French Of The Canadas, A Title Which Has Been
Borne By So Many Of The Heroes Of France, And Which Had Now Been
Adopted Into The Language Of The Wild Horde Of Whom We Are Writing, As
The One Most Expressive Of The Deeds Of Their Own Brave. The Murmur Of
Le Balafre, That Ran Through The Assembly When He Appeared, Announced
Not Only His Name And The High Estimation Of His Character, But How
Extraordinary His Visit Was Considered. As He Neither Spoke Nor Moved,
However, The Sensation Created By His Appearance Soon Subsided, And
Then Every Eye Was Again Turned Upon The Speaker, And Every Ear Once
Part 3 Chapter 28 Pg 111More Drunk In The Intoxication Of His Maddening Appeals.
It Would Have Been Easy To Have Traced The Triumph Of Mahtoree, In The
Reflecting Countenances Of His Auditors. It Was Not Long Before A Look
Of Ferocity And Of Revenge Was To Be Seen Seated On The Grim Visages
Of Most Of The Warriors, And Each New And Crafty Allusion To The
Policy Of Extinguishing Their Enemies, Was Followed By Fresh And Less
Restrained Bursts Of Approbation. In The Height Of This Success The
Teton Closed His Speech, By A Rapid Appeal To The Pride And Hardihood
Of His Native Band, And Suddenly Took His Seat.
In The Midst Of The Murmurs Of Applause, Which Succeeded So Remarkable
An Effort Of Eloquence, A Low, Feeble And Hollow Voice Was Heard
Rising On The Ear, As If It Rolled From The Inmost Cavities Of The
Human Chest, And Gathered Strength And Energy As It Issued Into The
Air. A Solemn Stillness Followed The Sounds, And Then The Lips Of The
Aged Man Were First Seen To Move.
"The Day Of Le Balafre Is Near Its End," Were The First Words That
Were Distinctly Audible. "He Is Like A Buffaloe, On Whom The Hair Will
Grow No Longer. He Will Soon Be Ready To Leave His Lodge, To Go In
Search Of Another, That Is Far From The Villages Of The Siouxes;
Therefore, What He Has To Say Concerns Not Him, But Those He Leaves
Behind Him. His Words Are Like The Fruit On The Tree, Ripe And Fit To
Be Given To Chiefs.
"Many Snows Have Fallen Since Le Balafre Has Been Found On The War-
Path. His Blood Has Been Very Hot, But It Has Had Time To Cool. The
Wahcondah Gives Him Dreams Of War No Longer; He Sees That It Is Better
To Live In Peace.
"My Brothers, One Foot Is Turned To The Happy Hunting-Grounds, The
Other Will Soon Follow, And Then An Old Chief Will Be Seen Looking For
The Prints Of His Father's Moccasins, That He May Make No Mistake, But
Be Sure To Come Before The Master Of Life, By The Same Path, As So
Many Good Indians Have Already Travelled. But Who Will Follow? Le
Balafre Has No Son. His Oldest Has Ridden Too Many Pawnee Horses; The
Bones Of The Youngest Have Been Gnawed By Konza Dogs! Le Balafre Has
Come To Look For A Young Arm, On Which He May Lean, And To Find A Son,
That When He Is Gone His Lodge May Not Be Empty. Tachechana, The
Skipping Fawn Of The Tetons, Is Too Weak, To Prop A Warrior, Who Is
Old. She Looks Before Her And Not Backwards. Her Mind Is In The Lodge
Of Her Husband."
The Enunciation Of The Veteran Warrior Had Been Calm, But Distinct,
And Decided. His Declaration Was Received In Silence; And Though
Several Of The Chiefs, Who Were In The Counsels Of Mahtoree, Turned
Their Eyes On Their Leader, None Presumed To Oppose So Aged And So
Venerated A Brave, In A Resolution That Was Strictly In Conformity To
The Usages Of The Nation. The Teton Himself Was Content To Await The
Result With Seeming Composure, Though The Gleams Of Ferocity, That
Played About His Eye, Occasionally Betrayed The Nature Of Those
Feelings, With Which He Witnessed A Procedure, That Was Likely To Rob
Him Of That One Of All His Intended Victims Whom He Most Hated.
Part 3 Chapter 28 Pg 112
In The Mean Time Le Balafre Moved With A Slow And Painful Step Towards
The Captives. He Stopped Before The Person Of Hard-Heart, Whose
Faultless Form, Unchanging Eye, And Lofty Mien, He Contemplated Long,
With High And Evident Satisfaction. Then Making A Gesture Of
Authority, He Awaited, Until His Order Had Been Obeyed, And The Youth
Was Released From The Post And His Bonds, By The Same Blow Of The
Knife. When The Young Warrior Was Led Nearer To His Dimmed And Failing
Sight, The Examination Was Renewed, With Strictness Of Scrutiny, And
That Admiration, Which Physical Excellence Is So Apt To Excite In The
Breast Of A Savage.
"It Is Good," The Wary Veteran Murmured, When He Found That All His
Skill In The Requisites Of A Brave Could Detect No Blemish; "This Is A
Leaping Panther! Does My Son Speak With The Tongue Of A Teton?"
The Intelligence, Which Lighted The Eyes Of The Captive, Betrayed How
Well He Understood The Question, But Still He Was Far Too Haughty To
Communicate His Ideas Through The Medium Of A Language That Belonged
To A Hostile People. Some Of The Surrounding Warriors Explained To The
Old Chief, That The Captive Was A Pawnee-Loup.
"My Son Opened His Eyes On The 'Waters Of The Wolves,'" Said Le
Balafre, In The Language Of That Nation, "But He Will Shut Them In The
Bend Of The 'River With A Troubled Stream.' He Was Born A Pawnee, But
He Will Die A Dahcotah. Look At Me. I Am A Sycamore, That Once Covered
Many With My Shadow. The Leaves Are Fallen, And The Branches Begin To
Drop. But A Single Sucker Is Springing From My Roots; It Is A Little
Vine, And It Winds Itself About A Tree That Is Green. I Have Long
Looked For One Fit To Grow By My Side. Now Have I Found Him. Le
Balafre Is No Longer Without A Son; His Name Will Not Be Forgotten
When He Is Gone! Men Of The Tetons, I Take This Youth Into My Lodge."
No One Was Bold Enough To Dispute A Right, That Had So Often Been
Exercised By Warriors Far Inferior To The Present Speaker, And The
Adoption Was Listened To, In Grave And Respectful Silence. Le Balafre
Took His Intended Son By The Arm, And Leading Him Into The Very Centre
Of The Circle, He Stepped Aside With An Air Of Triumph, In Order That
The Spectators Might Approve Of His Choice. Mahtoree Betrayed No
Evidence Of His Intentions, But Rather Seemed To Await A Moment Better
Suited To The Crafty Policy Of His Character. The More Experienced And
Sagacious Chiefs Distinctly Foresaw The Utter Impossibility Of Two
Partisans So Renowned, So Hostile, And Who Had So Long Been Rivals In
Fame, As Their Prisoner And Their Native Leader, Existing Amicably In
The Same Tribe. Still The Character Of Le Balafre Was So Imposing, And
The Custom To Which He Had Resorted So Sacred, That None Dared To Lift
A Voice In Opposition To The Measure. They Watched The Result With
Increasing Interest, But With A Coldness Of Demeanour That Concealed
The Nature Of Their Inquietude. From This State Of Embarrassment, And
As It Might Readily Have Proved Of Disorganisation, The Tribe Was
Unexpectedly Relieved By The Decision Of The One Most Interested In
The Success Of The Aged Chief's Designs.
During The Whole Of The Foregoing Scene, It Would Have Been Difficult
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