We bounded down the steep bank to the lake shore.
Life is a blessing, a precious boon indeed, in such an hour, and we
felt happy in the mere consciousness of existence - the glorious
privilege of pouring out the silent adoration of the heart to the
Great Father in his universal temple.
On entering the wigwam, which stood within a few yards of the
clearing, in the middle of a thick group of cedars, we found Mrs.
Tom alone with her elvish children, seated before the great fire
that burned in the centre of the camp; she was busy boiling some
bark in an iron spider. The little boys, in red flannel shirts which
were their only covering, were tormenting a puppy, which seemed to
take their pinching and pummelling in good part, for it neither
attempted to bark nor to bite, but, like the eels in the story,
submitted to the infliction because it was used to it. Mrs. Tom
greeted us with a grin of pleasure, and motioned to us to sit down
upon a buffalo-skin, which, with a courtesy so natural to the
Indians, she had placed near her for our accommodation.
"You are all alone," said I, glancing round the camp.
"Ye'es; Indian away hunting - Upper Lakes. Come home with much deer."
"And Susan, where is she?"
"By and by. (Meaning that she was coming.) Gone to fetch water - ice
thick - chop with axe - take long time."
As she ceased speaking, the old blanket that formed the door of the
tent was withdrawn, and the girl, bearing two pails of water, stood
in the open space, in the white moonlight. The glow of the fire
streamed upon her dark, floating locks, danced in the black,
glistening eye, and gave a deeper blush to the olive cheek! She
would have made a beautiful picture; Sir Joshua Reynolds would have
rejoiced in such a model - so simply graceful and unaffected, the
very beau ideal of savage life and unadorned nature. A smile of
recognition passed between us. She put down her burden beside Mrs.
Tom, and noiselessly glided to her seat.
We had scarcely exchanged a few words with our favourite, when the
old squaw, placing her hand against her ear, exclaimed, "Whist!
whist!"
"What is it?" cried Emilia and I, starting to our feet. "Is there
any danger?"
"A deer - a deer - in bush!" whispered the squaw, seizing a rifle that
stood in a corner. "I hear sticks crack - a great way off. Stay
here!"
A great way off the animal must have been, for though Emilia and
I listened at the open door, an advantage which the squaw did not
enjoy, we could not hear the least sound:
