Aesthetical Essays of Frederich Schiller | Page 8

and ornamented with feathers. A small silver medal hung from his neck, and I guessed from this that he was a friend to the white men, and had received it as a token for some service he had rendered them.
He made a friendly sign as he saw us approach, and put out his hand.
"We come to thank you for killing the wolf that was about to spring upon me," I said in English, for though I knew a few words of the Indian tongue, I could not at that time speak it sufficiently well to express what I wished to say.
"Kepenau is glad to have done you a service," he answered in English. "I heard the young maiden cry out, and guessed that she would not do so without cause, so I hurried on to help you. But why are you so far from home? It is dangerous for unarmed people to wander in this forest."
"We came out to gather berries, and were about to return," said Lily. "You will not detain us?"
"Not if you wish to go," answered the Indian.
"But come with me, and you shall return with something of more value than these berries."
I felt sure that the Indian would not injure us, so Lily and I followed him, hand in hand.
He moved through the forest faster than we could, and presently stopped near some rocks, amid which lay the body of a deer with huge antlers. Placing himself across the carcass of the animal, he exclaimed with a look of exultation, "See! I have overcome the king of these forests. Once, thousands of these animals wandered here, but since the white man has come they have all disappeared; and now that I have slain him, we must go likewise, and seek for fresh hunting-grounds. Still, Kepenau bears the Whiteskins no malice. He was ever their friend, and intends to remain so. You must take some of the meat and present it to your friends."
Saying this, he commenced skinning the deer, in which operation I assisted him. He then cut off several slices, which he wrapped up in some large leaves and placed in my basket.
"Take the venison to your mother, and say that Kepenau sends it," he observed.
"He has no mother," said Lily.
"Is he not your brother?" asked the Indian.
"No!" said Lily. "His mother was killed by the Redskins long, long ago."
Lily at that time did not know that her own mother had been murdered when mine was.
"You do not bear the red men any malice on that account, I trust?" said Kepenau, turning to me.
"The Great Spirit tells us to forgive our enemies; and there are good and bad Indians."
"You are a good Indian, I am sure," said Lily, looking up at him with more confidence in her manner than she had before shown.
"I wish to become so," he said, smiling. "I have learned to love the Great Spirit, and wish to obey him. But it is time for you to return home. Wait until I have secured the flesh of the deer, and then I will accompany you."
Kepenau quickly cut up the animal, and fastened the more valuable portion's to the bough of a tree--out of the reach of the wolves--by means of some lithe creepers which grew at hand; then loading himself with as much of the venison as he could conveniently carry, he said, "We will move on."
Having accompanied us to the edge of the forest, he bade us farewell. "Should there be more wolves in the forest, they will not follow you further than this," he said; "but if they do, remember that it will be better to sacrifice some of the venison, than to allow them to overtake you. Throw them a small bit at a time; and as in all likelihood they will stop to quarrel over it, you will thus have time to escape."
I remembered the Indian's advice, although we did not need to practise it on this occasion.
We reached home before dark, and greatly surprised Aunt Hannah with the present of venison. She had, she told us, been very anxious at our prolonged absence.
CHAPTER TWO.
GREENFORD SETTLEMENT--THE FLYING SQUIRRELS--MIKE LAFFAN AND TOM QUAMBO-- THEIR DOGS, YELP AND SNAP--A RACCOON-HUNT--MIKE HAVING SEEN A BEAR, WE GO IN CHASE--OUR DOGS SCENT BRUIN--QUAMBO IN DANGER--THE BEAR IS KILLED, AND QUAMBO RELEASED--WE RETURN TO THE HUT--THE LOGGING BEE--UNCLE STEPHEN'S HOUSE--INDIAN SUMMER--MIKE LAFFAN'S CREMONA--THE NIGHT ATTACK OF THE WOLVES--WE DETERMINE TO GO LUMBERING FOR THE WINTER--MIKE AND I GO ON AHEAD--UNCLE MARK IS ATTACKED BY A WOLF--MIKE SAVES HIM, AND WE PROCEED ONWARDS.
We had only lately, as I have already said, arrived at our new location. My uncles had been imbued with the restless spirit of backwoodsmen, and Aunt Hannah was ready to do whatever Uncle Stephen wished. So, having grown weary of the