Oonomoo the Huron | Page 6

dat tree, and
he's doing it to make me look up at him. I'm looking but I can't see
notting."
He shaded his eyes as he spoke, and looked long and searchingly at the
tree, but for a considerable time could discover nothing unusual about it.
At length, however, he fancied that he saw one of the limbs sway
gently backward and forward in a manner that could hardly be caused
by the wind. Gradually it began to dawn upon him that if there was any
person upon the tree, he meant that his presence should not be
suspected by the Shawnees along the bank. Accordingly Hans
Vanderbum was more circumspect in his observations.
Still watching the tree, he soon discovered something else that he
thought was meant to attract his eye. The water directly beneath it
flashed and sparkled as if it was disturbed by some object. Straining his
gaze, he finally discerned what appeared to be a human hand swaying
backward and forward.
"Dat is enough!" thought Hans Vanderbum. "Dere's somebody dere dat
wants to see me, and is afeard of dese oder chaps about, so I goes to
him."
Working his way cautiously backward, he reached the land and started
apparently to return to his wigwam. As he did so, he looked at the
Shawnees and was gratified to see that their suspicions had not been
aroused by his movements. Proceeding some distance, he hid his fish
and line and made his way up the river, escaping the Shawnees by
means of a long _détour_.
Reaching the stream and tree, he was somewhat taken aback by not

finding any one at all. Considerably perplexed, he looked about him.
"Can't be dat Quanonshet and Madokawandock have been fooling deir
poor old fader again," said he. "I'm purty sure I seen some one on the
tree, when dem pieces of bark come swimming downstream."
A subdued whistle reached his ear. Looking behind him, he saw a
Huron Indian standing a few yards away. The eyes of both lit up as they
encountered the gaze of each other, for they were both friends and old
acquaintances.
"Ish dat you, Oonomoo?" inquired Hans Vanderbum.
"Yeh--me--Oonomoo," replied the Indian, pronouncing his name
somewhat differently from the Dutchman, (and from that by which we
have before referred to him).
"Was dat you on de tree out dere?"
"Yeh, me--Oonomoo out dere on log."
"And did you make dem pieces of bark to come swimming down by
me?"
"Yeh, me made 'em."
"And shtirred de water wid yer hand and moved de limb?"
"Yeh, Oonomoo do all dat."
"I shpose you wanted to see me?"
"Yeh, wanted to see you--want talk wid you," said the Huron,
motioning for Hans to follow him. The latter did not hesitate to do so,
as he had perfect faith in his honesty, knowing much of his history. The
savage led the way some distance into the woods, where they were not
likely to be seen or overheard, and then stopped and confronted his
companion.

"Where'd you come from, Oonomoo?" asked the latter.
"From fightin' de Shawnees," replied the savage, proudly.
"Yaw, I sees yer am in de war-paint. Did you get many?"
"The lodge of Oonomoo is full of the scalps of the cowardly Shawnees,
taken many moons ago," answered the Huron, his eyes flashing fire and
his breast heaving at the remembrance of his exploits. This reply was
made in the Shawnee language, as he spoke it as well as one of their
warriors; and, as Hans also understood it, the conversation was now
carried on in that tongue.
"When did you see Annie Stanton last?" inquired the Dutchman,
showing considerable interest.
"Several moons ago, when the sun was in the woods and the waters
were asleep."
"Is her husband, that rascally Ferrington, living?"
Oonomoo replied that he was.
"And is their baby, too?"
"Yes, they have two pappooses."
"Dunder and blixen!" exclaimed Hans Vanderbum, and then resuming
the English language, or rather his version of it, he added:
"Dat gal wanted to marry mit me once."
"Why no marry den?" inquired Oonomoo, also coming back to the
more difficult language.
"She wan't te right kind of a gal--she wan't like my
Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, dat is de same shape all de way
down from her head to her heels. So I let dat Ferrington have her."

The Huron, who understood all about that matter, indulged in a broad
smile at this remark. Whatever his business was, it was manifest he was
in no hurry, else he would not have indulged in this by-play of words
with his friend.
"You doesn't t'ink de baby will dies, does you?"
"No--in de settlement--Shawnee can't git her now--don't live off in de
woods like as dey did afore."
"Dat's lucky for her; don't t'ink dey