Wyandotte | Page 4

was also added to his cares. Being an educated as well as a
provident man, Captain Willoughby had set about the execution of this
scheme with deliberation, prudence, and intelligence. On the frontiers,
or lines, as it is the custom to term the American boundaries, he had
become acquainted with a Tuscarora, known by the English sobriquet
of "Saucy Nick." This fellow, a sort of half-outcast from his own
people, had early attached himself to the whites, had acquired their
language, and owing to a singular mixture of good and bad qualities,
blended with great native shrewdness, he had wormed himself into the
confidence of several commanders of small garrisons, among whom
was our captain. No sooner was the mind of the latter made up,
concerning his future course, than he sent for Nick, who was then in the
fort; when the following conversation took place:
"Nick," commenced the captain, passing his hand over his brow, as was
his wont when in a reflecting mood; "Nick, I have an important
movement in view, in which you can be of some service to me."
The Tuscarora, fastening his dark basilisk-like eyes on the soldier,
gazed a moment, as if to read his soul; then he jerked a thumb
backward, over his own shoulder, and said, with a grave smile--
"Nick understand. Want six, two, scalp off Frenchman's head; wife and
child; out yonder, over dere, up in Canada. Nick do him--what you
give?"
"No, you red rascal, I want nothing of the sort--it is peace now, (this
conversation took place in 1764), and you know I never bought a scalp,
in time of war. Let me hear no more of this."

"What you want, _den_?" asked Nick, like one who was a good deal
puzzled.
"I want land--good land--little, but good. I am about to get a grant--a
patent--"
"Yes," interrupted Nick, nodding; "I know _him_--paper to take away
Indian's hunting-ground."
"Why, I have no wish to do that--I am willing to pay the red men
reasonably for their right, first."
"Buy Nick's land, den--better dan any oder."
"Your land, knave!--You own no land--belong to no tribe--have no
rights to sell."
"What for ask Nick help, den?"
"What for?--Why because you know a good deal, though you own
literally nothing. That's what for."
"Buy Nick know, den. Better dan he great fader know, down at York."
"That is just what I do wish to purchase. I will pay you well, Nick, if
you will start to-morrow, with your rifle and a pocket-compass, off here
towards the head-waters of the Susquehannah and Delaware, where the
streams run rapidly, and where there are no fevers, and bring me an
account of three or four thousand acres of rich bottom-land, in such a
way as a surveyor can find it, and I can get a patent for it. What say you,
Nick; will you go?"
"He not wanted. Nick sell 'e captain, his own land: here in 'e fort."
"Knave, do you not know me well enough not to trifle, when I am
serious?"
"Nick ser'ous too--Moravian priest no ser'ouser more dan Nick at dis
moment. Got land to sell."

Captain Willoughby had found occasion to punish the Tuscarora, in the
course of his services; and as the parties understood each other
perfectly well, the former saw the improbability of the latter's daring to
trifle with him.
"Where is this land of yours, Nick," he inquired, after studying the
Indian's countenance for a moment. "Where does it lie, what is it like,
how much is there of it, and how came you to own it?"
"Ask him just so, ag'in," said Nick, taking up four twigs, to note down
the questions, seriatim.
The captain repeated his inquiries, the Tuscarora laying down a stick at
each separate interrogatory.
"Where he be?" answered Nick, taking up a twig, as a memorandum.
"He out dere--where he want him--where he say.--One day's march
from Susquehanna."
"Well; proceed."
"What he like?--Like land, to be sure. T'ink he like water! Got some
water--no too much--got some land--got no tree--got some tree. Got
good sugar-bush--got place for wheat and corn."
"Proceed."
"How much of him?" continued Nick, taking up another twig; "much as
he want--want little, got him--want more, got him. Want none at all, got
none at all--got what he want."
"Go on."
"To be sure. How came to own him?--How a pale face come to own
America? Discover him--ha!--Well, Nick discover land down yonder,
up dere, over here."
"Nick, what the devil do you mean by all this?"

"No mean devil, at all--mean land--good land. Discover him--know
where he is--catch beaver dere, three, two year. All Nick say, true as
word of honour; much more too."
"Do you mean it is an old beaver-dam destroyed?" asked the captain,
pricking up his ears;