Omawha, the friendly chief, adopted as a son the short young friar of La Salle’s party; and so the gray robe of Father Membré passed freely in and out of the lodges4 of the village. Like one of the chief’s family, he ate of the Indian fare and slept on buffalo robes beside smouldering lodge-fires. His fellow-whites were at the new fort; and he alone watched the coming of spring in the Indian town.
As winter began to break up, the hunting parties came home. The war party from the South brought captives with them, and the village became more populous6. But Chassagoac, the indefatigable7 hunter, was still off in the woods.
Even in the long stretches of the Indian country, winterlocked and drear, news traveled fast; and the Illinois well knew that runners were carrying all up and down the Great Valley tales of the white men among the Peorias, of the fort on the hill, and of the ship that was to sail down the long river. It was, therefore, with concern that the Peorias saw one day a gathering8 of Indians encamped about the fort. They were Osages and Chickasaws and Arkansas—tribes that lived along the Mississippi far to the south. And the villagers knew that they—jealous of the advantages of the Illinois—would tell the white chief of the easy navigation of the river and urge him to come down and live in their country.
Not many days passed before another group of Indians arrived, this time from the Far West—so far beyond the Mississippi River that they told of long-haired Spaniards who rode to war on horses and fought with lances. One of the Indians proudly wore at his belt a tobacco pouch9 made from the hoof10 of a horse with some of the skin of the leg attached. A week later came still another delegation11 to see the far-famed whites. They were Sioux from the distant Northwest, in the land where the Mississippi took its rise; and they were long-time foes12 of the tribes of the Illinois.
In the councils of the Illinois Indians there was much debate. Each chief had his own opinion. It was a time of new and strange happenings. Long had the Illinois tribe lived proud and comfortable in the valley. They had hunted and fished up and down the rivers at their will. In the open spaces before their arbor-like lodges they gambled and smoked and basked13 in the summer days, the bright sun warming their naked bodies. And when they were tired of basking14, they put on their garments of red and black paint, gathered howling in the war dance, and set out on a raid against the Sacs and Foxes west of the Lake of the Illinois, or the Sioux by the headwaters of the Mississippi, or the Osages and Arkansas and other tribes on its southern banks. Often, too, war came to them, and sometimes so desperate that even the Indian women fought hand to hand with the enemy in the spaces between the lodges of the village.
But of late years had come new dangers. Faint whisperings reached them of white-faced men who brought from across the sea weapons that roared like the thunder and smote15 their victims like bolts of lightning. Their ancient enemies, the Iroquois, bought these weapons with furs and carried their ravages16 upon the Western tribes with increased deadliness. Then they learned that the white men themselves were beginning to appear on the Great Lakes—first at the eastern end, but finally on the shores of Lake Superior and the Lake of the Illinois.
By and by there pushed out from the Lakes into the valleys of the Wisconsin and the Illinois, and even as far as the Upper Mississippi, the black-robed priest and the lone5 fur trader. Restless coureurs de bois floated down the rivers in greater numbers. They set up cabins and wintered in the lands which once the Indians alone knew. Priests, having come to visit, came again to stay. Soldiers and explorers pierced the far wilderness17. Strange canoes shot up and down the waters. The ringing of axes sounded in the woods, and forts sprang up. These new bold habitants brought hatchets18 that put the old stone clubs to shame, kettles such as the Indians had never dreamed of, knives with a deadly edge, blankets of bright color and fine texture—and the childlike heart of the Indian was made glad.
A new force had come upon the land and the end of the old days was at hand. No Indian fully19 realized it. The novelty of the white man’s ways and the charm of his gifts shortened their vision, and so they lived each in the eventful present. But as surely as the river flowed down to the sea, the Great Valley was passing out of their grasp. The wide reaches of meadow, the leagues of hill and plain, the waters that ran past a thousand hills, virgin20 forest for their game, live soil for their corn, all the freedom and bounty21 of the greatest valley in the world had been theirs—a valley to roam over at will, to hunt in with the changing seasons, to fight for in the glory of battle among themselves.
The red men did not know that things were really going to be different, for they were not wise in prophecy. But they were restless in mind and they felt some of the dangers of the present; for like children they feared a power they could not understand.
Among the Illinois tribes this vague fear rose and then died out in the more placid22 courses of their lives. Then lurking23 suspicion seized upon some event and all was alarm again. So it was with other tribes, for fierce courage and abject24 terror alternated in the Indian mind.
Over on the shores of the Fox River and about the foot of the Lake of the Illinois lived the nation of Miamis. They were relatives of the Illinois tribes as well as neighbors, and their language was much the same. The fear of the Iroquois, armed with white men’s weapons, had seized such firm hold upon them that once they migrated to the Mississippi. But in a time of peace they had wandered back to their former homes. Now and then trouble arose between Miami and Illinois, and for years they waged war upon each other.
The secret embassy of Monso with his Miami followers25 left the Illinois uneasy. How did the Miamis know so much about the Iroquois? If the Iroquois came, would the Miamis join them against the people of the Illinois? And what would La Salle and Tonty and the men at the fort do? Round and round went question and answer as the spring came on. Soon would Chassagoac, their greatest chief, be back with his hunters. Perhaps his wisdom might help them.
In the meantime they went about their duties and pleasures in the village. The end of February, 1680, came, and on the last day of the month they saw a great stirring—an unusual bustling26 about and strutting27 up and down on the part of the gray-robed Hennepin. Finally he planted his figure solidly in a canoe laden28 with skins and weapons and knives and kettles. The veteran woodsman, Michael Ako, was with him and Antoine Auguel—called the Picard by his comrades because he came from Picardy in France. Bidding good-bye to those on the bank, the three men slipped swiftly down the current and out of sight. What new move was this?
The Indians wondered until the next day when the village welcomed the return of one of its hunting parties, just arrived from down the river. They had passed Ako and his fellows about sundown the night before and tried to persuade them to return. But no, they were bound for the land of the Sioux, where Ako meant to trade in furs and learn of the country; and the affable friar pronounced himself bound to undertake the great perils29 of an unknown land to preach to the Indians of the Upper Mississippi. So the red hunters let them pass—the boastful friar and his two companions. Little did the three know what experiences were to befall them before they saw again the lights of white men’s cabins.
On the day that the hunters returned, those who watched the fort saw two other canoes set out, this time going up the river. Here was a still more important event, for in one of the boats was the figure of La Salle himself. Six Frenchmen were with him, and also a Mohegan warrior30 whom they called the Wolf, from the name of his people. The Indians waited in wonderment. Was the fort being deserted31? Not yet, for the mysterious Tonty, his arm swinging heavily at his side, passed about among the men at the fort giving orders in the absence of his chief.
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1
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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3
bleached
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| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
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4
lodges
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| v.存放( lodge的第三人称单数 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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7
indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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8
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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10
hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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delegation
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| n.代表团；派遣 | |
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12
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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13
basked
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的过去式和过去分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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14
basking
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的现在分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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15
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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ravages
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| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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hatchets
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| n.短柄小斧( hatchet的名词复数 )；恶毒攻击；诽谤；休战 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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bounty
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| n.慷慨的赠予物，奖金；慷慨，大方；施与 | |
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22
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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23
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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strutting
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| 加固，支撑物 | |
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28
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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30
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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31
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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