Nattie Nesmith/Chapter 11

by Sophia Homespun

 

Chapter XI.

Torch Eye.

T an early hour on the following morning, Nattie awoke. The first sight which met her gaze was the garments which she had worn on the night in which she was seized by the Indian, hanging on a stick close to her head. She started up with surprise and delight. There were the brown delaine dress, the white apron, the balmoral hose, and the boots. She had never expected to sec them again, or to know their fate. They were taken from her during her unconscious journeying into the wilderness, and her dress had since been the coarse, cotton fabric of the Indian children. She had often wished to ask for her clothes, but dared not venture to do so. Now here they were, at her side, looking just as she had last seen them. Nattie silently thanked God for the sight, and there was genuine gratitude in her heart.

It seemed to be the intention that she should put on the garments. The company were all sleeping around her when she rose and commenced the task. In a few moments she felt and looked quite like her former self.

"If I could find Black-bird's looking-glass," she whispered, stepping softly toward the spot where the Indian girl's cast off garments lay, "I would just like to take a peep at myself this morning; though I suppose my black face will scare me so much that I sha'n't take much comfort in seeing my clothes. But I'll look, though, if I can find the glass."

She searched Black-bird's pocket, and was successful. Then, stepping as lightly as she could toward one of the openings which served as windows, she held up the fragment of mirror and looked in. Her surprise was great when she saw that her face was quite restored to its original color.

What had occurred since last night? She almost thought that her prayers were answered,—that her father had come, and delivered her from captivity.

But she looked toward the sleeping forms, and now noticed that the old chief's place was occupied. A chill struck to her heart as she thought that her appearance had been improved that she might be presented, in a more favorable aspect, to the dreaded Torch Eye. She had been many times told that the boy would return with his father, and that she was destined to be his wife. Nattie looked toward the sleepers again, but counted only the mats of the old chief, his squaw, the three papooses, and Black-bird. "Perhaps, then. Torch Eye has not come;" this thought was a relief. She stepped toward the door, but, ere she gained it, a shadow darkened the opening, and a young man stood before her astonished eyes. He gazed at her with a slight smile, and stood aside, as if to let her pass out. But while she looked, her sight was dazzled, so she saw but half of his figure, and in trying to run by him, she came in contact with that half which her imperfect vision had rendered invisible. He put out his arm to save her from falling, and when she was fairly beyond him, she turned and said:

"Excuse me. I could see but half of you my head has got strange, and sometimes my sight serves me a bad turn."

"I am sure you don't look as if you were blind," said the young man, gazing at the trim figure before him.

"I'm not blind," was the answer; "only the beads have got in my head, and make me see wrong, sometimes."

"Do you, then, work with beads so much?" asked the stranger.

"Oh, all summer,—every long, long day," Nattie answered; "and always with white ones. I don't believe that any others would be as bad; but they dazzle so! I often see white beads everywhere."

"You don't see any about me, do you?" asked the youth, smiling.

"No," answered Nattie, regarding him. "I see you just as you are now; but, perhaps, in a minute, I shall see but half of you, or see flowers and letters in white beads, all over your clothes."

"Well, while you can see me as I really am, won't you please tell me what you think of me, and whom you take me to be?"

Nattie looked at her new acquaintance again, and said:

"I think that you are quite like white people."

Then some recollections of what Black-bird had told her, yesterday, in regard to a company of Canadian Frenchmen that had come into that region, and of their great wickedness, passed through her mind, and she added:

"I'm sure, I don't know who you are, but I hope that you are not a Canada man."

Nattie made a move as if she would re enter the wigwam, but the youth seemed to wish to detain her yet a while longer.

"Why do you hope that I am not a Canada man?" he asked.

"Because they are enemies to us," Nattie answered.

"To you and me?"

"No; to Indians."

"Then you and I are not Indians?"

"I am not," she said.

"So I see," he answered; "yet you live with them."

"I was brought here," she said, looking uneasily toward the cabin.

"Your name is Nathalie," he said.

"I am called Tulip," she answered.

"But I read the name, 'Nathalie Norton,' in the cabin, last night, and was told by Fox Heart that it was yours," he said.

"Then, you know our folks?" she remarked, quickly.

"I do," he returned. "There were visitors with you last night, but you were wearied out and sleeping, so you were not called to join the company."

"The chief has got home," said Nattie; "I saw him sleeping on his mat this morning, when I awoke."

"Yes; are you glad?"

"I——don't know. Could you tell me whether his son came with him or not?"

"Nattie asked this question with averted eyes.

"He did," was the answer.

"Do you know him?"

"Yes; I may say that I have some acquaintance with Torch Eye."

"What is he like?"

"I would not want to say much in his favor," was the response.

"Well, you had better not say anything against him, for his father is just within, and may be awake. He thinks very highly of his son."

"I have reason to believe it," was the answer. "I called to bid the old chief good morning, as my companions and I must be gone on a hunting expedition, full soon; but he is sleeping, so I will call on my return."

"Do you wish me to tell him who called?" asked Nattie, feeling some desire to learn the name of the dark-eyed young man, who had something Indian in his dress, but whose manners were like those of white people.

"You may tell him that Augustus Reid called, and had a pleasant interview with his little adopted daughter, Nathalie."

Nattie bowed, and the young man took his leave. Suddenly, while the little girl's eyes were bent thoughtfully on the damp, dark ground in front of the wigwam, she saw that name, "Augustus Reid,"—stretched out in great, white bead letters, at her feet. But, strange to tell, the next moment she saw another name, and one which she dreaded ever to think of, written directly below the first one. The second one was, "Torch Eye."

Nattie put her hands to her eyes, and returned to the interior of the wigwam. The old chief was sitting up, looking about him, in all directions. He soon discovered Nattie, and called out:

"Ho, my gay Tulip! has she been abroad already, to brighten the morning with her beauty? The eyes of old North Wind are gladdened by the sight of her, looking even as when the Great Spirit sent her forth from the white man's door, to become a child of the forest, the bold red man's bride. They tell me that some dimness has come to the bright eyes of the Tulip. She must make known to the old chief the tale of its coming, that he may drive it away by using the arts which the medicine-man of a great tribe taught him, when his years were few and his feet nimble as the deer on the mountains."

These, words roused the old squaw and her papooses. Black-bird sat up and stared blankly at Nattie, till a dark frown clouded her brow and flashes of anger shot from her murky, black eyes. She had noticed the hue of Nattie's skin and the garb which she wore. The sight filled her with wrath and jealousy. Fox Heart exclaimed:

"Tulip has turned white since yesterday; is it because she is Torch Eye's bride, pappy?"

The old chief laughed aloud, and said:

"Who knows but it may be because she is soon to behold her future chief? though some moons must wax and wane before their marriage morning. Tulip must grow to woman's hight, and Torch Eye must learn the warrior's life, before he takes the bride to his own wigwam."

The old squaw looked scowlingly toward Nattie, who stood leaning on a bench not far from the chieftain.

"Get you to the spring by the beech-tree, and draw water for filling the pot," she said; "we want no white idlers in our cabin. If your sick face is put on to get you ease, it will he best cured by work and the green hide."

Nattie droopingly took the two heavy buckets and started for the door. As she went down the well-trodden path, her head was full of strange sounds. She thought, at first, that it was the murmuring of the rivulet which supplied the spring, but the sounds grew louder and more confusing. She erred in her steps, and reeled against a great tree. She would have fallen heavily to the earth had not the arm of the old chief saved her.

"The brain of the pale-face is hurt," he said. "I must search for the remedies of the red medicine-man, before the sun reaches his half-way house this day. The gift of the Great Spirit to the Indian shall be treated as the future bride of his son."

North Wind took Nattie up in his blanket, and carried her back to the wigwam.

"What matter now?" asked the old squaw, when he entered with his burden.

He did not answer, but, placing Nattie on the settee, went to the fire, where the pot of herbs still simmered.

"What herbs have you got in the pot?" he at length asked, turning to the old squaw.

"Such as are good for dizzy, two-sighted heads," she answered. "But you spurned my hand. You would not let the white squaw drink the healing balm of the woods, that I toiled to make for her good. See what better health you can pour from the vials of the red medicine-man."

The old Indian tasted the contents of the pot, then dipped up a small quantity in a cup, added to it some drops from a vial, and carried the dose to Nattie.

"Drink and be healed, child of the pale-face," he said.

Nattie regarded him earnestly, as he spoke, and said, slowly:

"I can see half of a cup in your hand."

"Take hold of the half that you can see," he answered, "and you will find that it is a whole cup, Tulip."

She did as directed, passing her fingers around the brim.

"Why, so it is," she said, looking pleased to find it thus.

"Drink," he said.

She raised the cup to her lips, and after it was drained, looked steadfastly in the bottom of it, for some moments.

"What is there?" asked the chief.

"Augustus Reid's eyes," said Nattie, still gazing intently.

"Ho! What! Have you seen Augustus Reid, then?" asked the old Indian, eagerly.

"He came this morning, while you slept, to bid you good-bye before he went to the hunt; and he told me to tell you that he would call on his return."

"And what did you think of Augustus Reid, my Tulip of the woods?" asked old North Wind, looking closely in the young girl's face as he put the question.

"I thought well of him," answered Nattie.

The chief seemed pleased and satisfied.