Oonomoo the Huron | Page 4

mouth and looking sorrowfully at it. "'Cause dere ishn't
anything to fix it mit. It ish wonderful what mischief gets into dem
boys; dere ain't no time when dey ain't doin' notting what dey hadn't not
ought to--all de times just de same way, while I toils myself to death to
educate dem and bring 'em up in de way apout which dey ought to go."
Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock being in the habit of frequently
indulging in the use of tobacco, her husband was not deprived entirely
of his solace. Going into the wigwam, he unbosomed his griefs to her,
and she kindly loaned him her own pipe.
"I hopes dere ain't no powder in dat," he remarked, glancing uneasily
into the bowl.
"Nothing but tobac," replied his spouse, in her native tongue, "unless
you've put the powder in yourself."
"Dunderation, I don't does dat, and blow mine eyes out my head. Dem

little Dutchmen is up to all kinds of such tricks, and some dese days
dey will blow deir poor fader's brains out of his head, and den what will
become of dem?" feelingly inquired Hans Vanderbum.
"What will become of them?" repeated
Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, her voice rising higher and higher
at each word. "Who is it that supports them now and takes care of them?
Who is it that does that? Who is it--"
"It's you--it's you," replied her husband, seeing the mistake he had
made. "I doesn't do nottings--I doesn't do nottings; it's my wife, my
good Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, dat does it all. She's a very
nice squaw, de same shape all de way down."
These concessions and compliments greatly soothed the feelings of the
incensed spouse. She scolded her husband no more.
"What you going to do, my dear frau?" he asked, in a voice as cooing
and winning as a dove's.
"Going to work, to plant the corn, to get food for you and Quanonshet
and Madokawandock when the snow falls."
"Very kind, clever woman; good frau is mine
Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock."
"What are you going to do?" asked the wife, as the two passed out the
wigwam.
"Going to shmoke and _meditate_--meditate hard," replied Hans
Vanderbum, impressively.
"Can't you think as well while you're _fishing_?"
"I shpose I can; if my Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock t'inks so, I
can."
"Well, she thinks so."

The fact that his wife "thought so" was equivalent to a command with
Hans. He manifested no unwillingness or reluctance in obeying.
Accordingly, he furnished himself with a hook, line and bait, and set
out for the river.
It was now getting well along in the forenoon, the sun being above the
tree-tops. The Shawnee Indians had left their wigwams to engage in
their daily avocations. The women were mostly toiling in the field,
their pappooses hanging from the trees or leaning against their trunks.
The older children were frolicking through the woods, or fishing or
hunting. A few warriors and old men still lounged about the wigwams,
but the majority either were engaged in the hunt, or were upon the
war-trail.
Stolid and indifferent as was the nature of Hans, it struck him that there
was something unusual in the appearance and actions of the Indians. It
seemed as though some startling event had occurred from which they
had not fully recovered. They were uneasy and restless in their
movements, constantly passing to and from the river. Upon reaching
the banks of the latter, the Dutchman found a considerable number
already there. They were not engaged in fishing, but lay close to the
edge of the water, as if they expected the appearance of something
upon its surface. Had he been a little more observant, there was
something else which would have attracted his attention, on his passage
through the woods. Fully a dozen times a peculiar sound, like the
whistle of a bird, reached his ears, and he supposed it to be nothing
more, although it did seem odd to him that the bird should follow him
almost to the river bank. Besides this, he caught a flitting glimpse of an
Indian now and then, some distance in the woods, that appeared to be
watching him; but Hans did not care, even if such were the case, and he
paid no further heed to him.
Reaching the river, he made his preparations with great care and
elaboration. He had several hooks pendent from his line, upon each of
which he shoved the wriggling worms, spitting upon them during the
operation, as if to make them more tractable. To the line also was
fastened a pebble, to make it sink. Swinging this several times around

his head, he let go, when it spun far out in the river, and he commenced
cautiously following it by means of a projecting tree-trunk. This latter
extended a dozen feet out over the surface of