Oonomoo the Huron | Page 8

the woods in
search of his basket of fish. He experienced little difficulty in finding it,
and in a few moments was back again to his affectionate partner.
"How did you get wet?" she asked, looking at his flapping garments.
"Dem little Dutchmen done it; dey fixed de limb and made it proke and
let me down in de water and almost drownded. Quanonshet and
Madokawandock will be de death of deir poor dad."
The wife vouchsafed no reply, but jerking the fish from his hand,
entered the wigwam for the purpose of cooking them, while Hans
Vanderbum himself went lounging on through the village, it being his
purpose not to seem too anxious and hurried in his effort to gain his
news regarding the captive. He was, despite his stupidity, not devoid of

sagacity at times.
He had not long to search. In the very center of the town, his eyes fell
upon a promiscuous crowd collected around a wigwam, gazing at
something within.
"Vot you got dere?" he demanded, in a tone of great indignation, as he
shoved his way through the bystanders. Those addressed made no reply,
waiting for him to satisfy his curiosity by seeing the object for himself.
In the interior, he descried a young woman, or rather a girl, for she
could scarcely have been more than fifteen or sixteen years of age,
seated upon the ground, beside a squaw, with whom it was apparent she
had been endeavoring to hold a conversation; but, finding it impossible
in the ignorance of each other's language, they had ceased their efforts
by common consent and were now sitting motionless.
[Illustration: A girl, fifteen or sixteen years of age, seated upon the
ground, beside a squaw.]
As Hans Vanderbum gazed curiously at her, his big heart filled with
pity. She was attired in the plain, homespun dress common among the
settlers at that period, her head totally uncovered, and her long, dark
hair falling in luxuriant masses around her shoulders. Her hands were
clasped and her head bowed with a meek, resigned air that reached
more than one Shawnee heart. Her complexion was rather light, her
features not dazzlingly beautiful, but prepossessing, the expression
which instantly struck the beholder being that of refinement; speaking a
nature elevated and holy, as much above that of the beings who
surrounded her, as would have been that of an angel had he alighted
amid a group of mortals.
The great exertion made by Hans Vanderbum in reaching the wigwam,
caused him to breathe so heavily as to attract the attention of the
captive. Catching sight of a white man, she arose quickly, and
approaching him, said, eagerly:
"Oh! I'm so glad to meet one of my own color and race, for I am sure
you must be a friend."

"Yaw, I's your friend," replied Hans Vanderbum, hardly knowing what
he said; "and I's sorry as nobody to see you here. How did you got
here?"
"They brought me, the Shawnee warriors did. They attacked the house
in the night, when I was alone with the servants. They murdered them
all except me. They have brought myself here to perish in captivity."
"Yaw, de Shawnees ish great on dat business. 'Cause I shneezed dey
cotched me once and brought me here to perish in captivity mit
yourself," said Hans Vanderbum, in a feeling voice.
"Are you a prisoner, also?" asked the captive, in considerable surprise.
"Yaw, but I likes it! I's got a wife, Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock,
dat is de same shape all de way down, and a little Dutchman,
Madokawandock; so dey hasn't to watch, like I shpose dey will have to
you."
"Can any of these around me understand English?" asked the girl, in a
low tone.
"No; de women don't know notting about it, except my wife, and she
ain't here; and de men know notink. You needn't be afraid to say
anything you pleases to me."
"You could not betray me," added the girl, turning her dark, soulful
eyes anxiously full upon him.
"No, no," he replied, energetically. "Voot's your name?"
"Mary Prescott."
"How fur does you live from here--dat is, how fur did you live?"
"It must be over thirty miles, in an eastern direction, I think."
"Does you know Oonomoo?"

Hans Vanderbum asked the question in a lower tone, for the name was
well known to all present.
"A Huron Indian? Oh, yes; I know him well," replied the captive; her
countenance lighting up. "He was well remembered in our
neighborhood, and was a true friend to us all. Do you know him too?
Though I suppose of course you do, from your asking me the question."
"Yaw, I knows him, and he knows me too, and we both knows each
oder, so dat we are acquainted. Well, dat shentleman