The Wild Rose of the Beaver, and Tononqua, the pride of the Wyandots. Two border tales of the 18th century

Chapter I. A Vision

^INETY years ago! What a short period in the annals of the world, and yet how fraught with changes for the fair region now known to the geographer as Beaver county. Where schools and churches, w^here mills and factories, farms and villages now abound, ninety years ago not even the vestige of a building was to be seen. The river had not been dammed or spanned ; the precious coal bed had not been tapped, nor the fertile lield cleared. Indeed, one grand unbroken forest stretched from one end of the county to the other, and instead of the civilized white man, the dusky Indian, the greedy wolf, the blood-thirsty panther, and the awkward bear, thinly populated its sombre hills and valleys. Yet it was by no means void of beauty, only that this beauty in many places was of a serious, almost austere character. Through the dense foliage of its giant trees, and the denser one of its undergrowth, few sun rays found their cheering way, leaving fit haunts for poisonous serpents and beasts of prey underneath ; but where rivers, creeks and runs intercepted the green canopy, the aspect was cheering enough. True, even here the forest strove for mastery, sending mighty tree tops obliquely over the water, or causing dense bushes to hang festoon-like into the clear flood; but the sun lit up the foliage to the brightness of burnished gold, and there was always enough of the limpid mirror left to reflect the azure of the sky. Yes, the water-courses of the country were then beautiful, more

4 THE WILD ROSK OF THE BEAVER.

beautiful than now; for no ujrly dam had as yet disturbed the ripplinj? current, or the impetuous cascades of the rapids. Bridges and mill dams are practical improvements adapted to facilitate the intercourse and serve the purposes of man, but hardly calculated to enhance the beauty of the scene. Methinks I would gladly give a day of my life for the privilege of spending another on the waters and the banks of the Beaver river, as it api)eared ninety years ago. I would, however, hardly fancy meeting the dusky savage that Wits then creeping along its bushy banks, following the trail of his victim with unerring certainty, and driving the tomahawk into its skull without the warning of a moment. Those were perilous times for the solitary pale-face wanderer, and none but men of nerves, strong sinews, acute senses, and great experience in the use of the rifle and the ways of the wilderness, could venture in with any prospect of returning.

The two men we see wending their way up the left bank of Beaver creek seem to be of that character. They are evidently backwoodsmen, or rangers, wearing the apparel of that class, which consisted of a hunting frock, Indian leggins and moccasins. While the frock of the older and smaller of the two is made of plain linsey, that of his younger companion consists of tanned deer skin, and makes some pretensions to taste and neatness. His leggins also, are fringed more profusely, and his whole j?uit looks as though its owner wiis thinking a little about his appearance, or as if it had but lately left the hands of one skilled in the art of tailoring. A fur cap sat neatly upon a mass of auburn curls, and the upper lip of the handsome, though sunburnt face, sported a short mustache in so saucy a manner thai the young hunter would have done creflit to the park of an eastern city. On the other hand, however, one need only notice his elastic, noiseless step, his keen, penetrating glance, that seems to take in and understand the whole surroundings with the rapidity of lightning, and the ease and skill with which he poises the heavy rifle on his left arm, while the riyrht hand keeps in the neighborhood of the lock, ready for emergencies; we need only see all this to know at once that if the youth would grace the city, he is at home in the forest.

His senior is a man of smaller, but very compact build ; one of those persons whose strength we are very apt to underrate. They have little flesh, but considerable muscle and sinew, a body which is best qualified by the epithet of wiry. His bronzed face has an honest expression and regular features, which possess as much comeliness as constant exposure to the weather, several ugly scars and the age of forty-five will allow. We guess him to be that old, though such faces as his are by no means tell-tale faces, while his companion can, in our estimation, scarcely have passed his twenty-third year. The smaller man, however, seems not only older in years but also in experience ; for he takes the lead, his companion modestly walking in his footsteps and listening attentively to his words, without neglecting to use his own senses at the same time.

'*It is as it is, Bob," the leading man said, in a guarded undertone, *'and your disputin' it can't alter it, nohow; them critters are, to say the least, made of tarnation bad stufif. An inch is an inch, and a Delaware hardly better nor another. Don't talk to me about your poor injured Indian! all they're fit for is to be shot down, and no mistake."

*'That is the general opinion here, Dave, I am well aware; but I cannot help thinking that the case might have been different if the red men had always been treated right. You can't deny now that he has not always been dealt with as justice would dictate, can you?"

*'Well, I don't know. I guess you hint at the land question ; but even there I ain't prepared to knock under. It ain't meet that them red devils should rove over sich wild tracts of land when white men want 'em lor better purposes. We need corn, and wheat and terbacker, and you never saw the red man that would stoop tocultivatin', did you?"

*'No, David ; but it strikes rtie you don't like it much better. I have often heard you curse the plough and those that handle it, and turn these fine forests into fields and meadows. How do you explain this?"

b THE WILD ROSE OF THE BEAVER.

The other was slightly embarrassed. His case, however, stands not alone, but is one of the ninny where rights and privileges cannot be proven except by the strength of the owner. The forester argued in that strain.

"Well, I don't undertake to explain it," he said; *'but I know well enough that white ain't red, and that the white man wants these lands and is goin' to have them."

Such logic being irrefutable, the other kept his peace, but could not help smiling, a manifestation wholly innocent, as his comrade marched with his back tow^ard him. It is impossible to state what turn the conversation would have taken, for it was interrupted, and that, too, in a manner which caused the two frontiersmen to seek the cover of a tree, and keep their rifles ready for immediate execution. The cause of this alarm was a noise emanating on their right, and approaching them with a recklessness truly startling for such a precarious time and place. It sounded like some human being or heavy animal breaking thro' bughes or other obstacles in the way, with a total disregard {o secrecy or safety, and our hunters might have indulged in wondering calculations if the unknown being had not approached with such great rapidity. Five seconds had hardly elapsed since the first hearing of the noise, w^hen a fine stag made his appearance, and with one tremendous bound precipitated himself from the steep bank into the clear water below. It just reached to his side, and half wading, half swimming, the stag endeavored to gain the opposite shore.

*'What a fine animal," said the young man who had been called Robert by his companion. "Might we just as well kill him, and secure the good grace of our Indian friends by a savory morsel of venison?"

"No, no, Bob, don't shoot," the other exhorted. **A fellow never knows, in such ticklish times, what a bullet in the barrel may be good for. Besides we are too near their camp now to venture on so noisy a demonstration. I would rather— but there it goes. It seems we ain't as much to ourselves here as I would wish."

"The buck is down," said Robert, "and there comes the lucky hunter. He, for one, don't seem afraid to show himself."

On the other side of the stream the bushes parted, and a young Indian made his appearance. The bank being low he stepped on the gravelly bar, where the stag was lying, and in doing so exposed a figure of much beauty and promise. I say promise, because he did not seem to be much older than fourteen or fifteen years of age. Still his conduct foreshadowed already the coming warrior ; for in walking up to the deer he evinced a grace, dignity and self-possession peculiar to the Indian, especially when he knows himself the object of observation. The young hunter had, of course, noticed the pale-faces on the opposite bank ; but instead of fearing them he seem to be rather pleased with their sight. Placing his left foot on the dead stag, he, with his right hand, made a saluting gesture which could be intended for no one but the rangers.

"That boy sees us," whispered Robert.

"No wonder," replied the other tartly. "We hain't tried our hand at hiding, to my knowledge."

"Well, I mean he beckons us."

"So it appears. Well, I suppose he has instructions* 'Tisn't very likely we could walk into an Injun town without being noticed, and here you have the proof of it. That young jackanapes has his orders to watch us, and caper about us like a young kid about a mother goat. You'll see if he don't."

"Do you intend to cross here ?"

"Yes, We may as well ; the Injun camp is on t'other side, and this place is as easily crossed as another."

"Perhaps the boy can furnish us with a canoe."

"Yes, it would be a pity to spoil our suits b^ wading the creek," David said somewhat sarcastically. "Howsumever, we may as well ask him."

Upon this he stepped close to the bank and hailed the Indian, who might have been sixty yards off.

"Say, youngster," he cried "we want to cross this river,, and hate to wet our breeches ; can you perchance accommodate us with a canoe ?"

The youth evidently understood him, but before reply-

S THK WILD KO.SE OF THE BEAVER.

ing he turned hiji face towards the bushes behind him, as if expecting guidance from there. If so, his expectations were evidently realized, for nodding to the strangers he pointed to a bush at their feet, which was hanging into the water. They were men accustomed to take hints and read signs. Looking over the bank they saw footprints evidently made in the effort of climbing it.

"Aha, I understand it now,*' David said to his companion. *'Do you see the canoe under the bush? One of their party crossed the river by it and stirred up the stag. He cannot be far off I'm sure, and though he is only an Injun, common politeness requires us to wait. Hark ! there he is now."

It was even so. From the copse-wood lining the hillside a young Indian warrior at this moment 8teppe<l to the open river bank, at a distance of hardly a dozen paces from the white men. He was older than the boy on the bar, but hardly as old as the younger ranger. The exercise through which he had gone seemed to have called into play all the muscles of his body, and to have stirred him from that reserve which ^as become the second nature of the red man. His eye gleamed, a joyous smile lay on his lips, and he seemed to shout to the boy on the other side. But no sooner had his eye lit on the strangers than a change came over him, almost magical in its effect. The motions of the body ceased and he became as immovable as if he had been chiseled out of stone. The face lost its excitement under a mask of perfect reserve, and only the eye, incapable of belying its habitual fire, shone upon the stranger with an intenseness in which Robert imagined he saw the very essence of hatred. The older hunter now accosted the Indian.

"Good day to you, sir," he said rather roughly, and with no desire to conceal the contempt for the red man, which his former remarks have already betrayed to us. "I reckon this is your canoe ; we mean to use it for the purpose of crossin' over. If you have the same notion you might as well come along."

Instead of an answer the Indian descended the bank and entering the canoe, untied the cord with which It was fastened to a projecting root. Hohling onto the bush he looked at the strangers with an inviting glance, but abstained from uttering a word.

*'Dumb like a fish," David muttered, half to himself, and half to his companion. "I suppose oiir lamed Captain at the fort would call that mute illoquence. But we may as well embark, without raisin' the fellow's dander. This trip of ours is ticklish enough without making: unnecessary enemies. Here we are, Mr. Copperskin, and if you'll let the bush go, I'll give the craft a shove, that'll send her over, I reckon."

The Indian either understood his words or gestures ; for he relinquished his hold upon the bush and the canoe began to swing round with the current. When it stood at nearly right angles with the bank, David, who had held on as yet, gave the vessel so vigorous a push with his foot, that it began to cross the stream with great rapidity, and grated the low western shore with a momemtum showing that the propelling power was not yet fully spent. When the trio had stepped on the gravel David once more turned to the Indian.

"I judge from your ways," he said in the tongue of the Delawares, '*that you know our character and guess the nature of our errand."

The Indian nodded an affirmative.

"Well then, if that is the case, you might as well tell us where your camp is and inform your chief of our coming. Not that we couldn't find it ourselves," he continued with a derisive smile, "but a fellow hates to tumble in a hornet nest unawares, and it would least way do no harm, to give your folks a timely warning. What do you think of my proposal?"

The Indian raised his hand and pointed to the forest in their rear. When they turned to learn his meaning, their eyes beheld a sight, equally strange and charming. On the second bank of the river, which rose about three feet over the first, in one of the few apertures of the leafy seam, that hemmed the water course for many a mile, stood the figure of a young Indian woman. Now our rangers had seen many an Indian woman, old and young, and the sight of such alone would certainly have created no wonderment of theirs, but the young maiden standing there was evidently DO common apparition.

As a general thing, beauty, in our sense of the word, wa.s a rare attribute of the Indian squaw of North America. True she, in youth, shared with the white woman that beauty of form and grace of motion, that seems to be the inheritance of the female sex the world over;^ but her features were generally coarse, the cheek bones projecting in a striking manner. Besides, her hair was coarse, and lacked that lustre, which forms such a charm in the Cauctisian Kirl. The maiden on the bank, however, formed an exception to the rule, being entirely free from the defects of her race, and her figure and features formed an ensemble which would have created a sensation on the thronged boulevards of Paris. She stood there with the dignity of a queen, this dignity, however, tempered by the grace of her attitude and the smeet smile of a countenance, whose dark complexion was the only evidence of her origin. She was above medium size ; her face formed a beautiful oval, framed by thick masses of waving hair that vied in blackness with the plumage of the raven. Her skin, though dark, was clear and transparent, showing the bloom on her cheek and the cherry color of her lips. Her profile was purely Grecian, and the most fastidious sculpter could have dij^covered no defect in it. Her eyes were large, brilliant, and yet moist, of that dreamy depth which reveals the corresponding nature of the virgin soul. Her graceful figure was well set oflf by the fantastic dress she wore. The frock or tunic in which her upper body was clad, consisted of doe-skin which had been exquisitely tanned, and then dyed with a brilliant scarlet. It reached to the knees, and was drawn to tne waist by an embroidered belt of yellow leather. The lower edge was trimmed with white fringe of the same material, and so were the leggins, which shared the color of the belt. The small feet were encased in a neatly embroidered moccasin, in which the scarlet of the frock was repeated, showing that the Indian beauty did not only prize fine material and graceful cut in her apparel, but also understood the law of colors. A string of wampum around her neck and wrists, and a bunch of wild roses were the only ornaments she

THE WILD ROSE OF THE BEAVER. U

wore; but, indeed, the eyes of the spectators missed neither gold or diamonds, and so powerful was the effect of her unexpected appearance upon e\;en th6 older hunter, that he gazed fully a minute before he collected sufficient composure to address her. As to the younger he gladly yielded to his companion the otfice of speaker, as this allowed him to continue feasting his enraptured vision upon charms he liked, which he thought never to have encountered before, which perhaps struck him with double force on account of the wild surroundings.

AVhen the elder scout walked towards the maiden and began to speak to her, he showed none of that contempt which had become habitual with him in his intercourse with Indians. His tone and deportment showed, on the contrary, a respect which would perhaps have struck him as ridiculous, if he had been fully conscious of it. He went even as far as to borrow, in a measure, the flowery speech which the Indians use, but which accorded so little with his general blunt forwardness.

*'I see a gay bird in the woods," he addressed the girl, "which I never noticed before; what may be its name?''

This was said in the Delaware tongue, but — was it for reasons of politeness or vanity — the maiden replied in tolerably correct English.

"My pale-face father is very good : he may call his daughter the Wild Rose of the Beaver Valley."

"That is a pretty name ; does my daughter go by it?" "She only claims what belongs to her; her tongue is

not thievish like the magpie's, nor mischievous like the

mocking bird's."

"I reckon not, and I shall therefore ask the Wild Rose

a few questions : Does she belong to the tribe of the Beaver

that sojourns in this neighborhood ?"

"The Wild Rose is the old chiefs daughter."

"Ah ! no wonder then you look like the princess of a

fairy-tale. But see here,- would you trouble yourself to

show us the way to your father's wigwam, and secure us a

pleasant welcome?"

"The Wild Rose will do as her father wishes. She will tell the young men what to do, and then go with her paleface friends."

With these words she 8tepi)ed to the young Indians, who had remained near the stag, and been silent but attentive witnesses of the above dialogue. She addressed them in an undertone, and although the older youth cast sinister glances from under his contracted brows at what he might consider intruders, he submitted without contradiction to the directions of the maiden. Both youthd began to pull the venison towards the canoe, but when they came to lifting the dead carcass into the vessel, their united strength seeme<l inHdecjuate to the task, and the girl was on the point of aiding in the etfort, when the younger scout, with commendable zeal, sprang to their assistance. Bending his eye with undisguised admiration upon the fair creature, he cried engerly :

"Don't, don't ! you'll surely hurt yourself. This is no work for such tender hands. Come, lads, one good lift and the work is done. Steady! That's the style."

When the stag was in thecanoe, the two Indians shoved it into deeper water and began to push it up stream by means of pole and paddle. The maiden, on the other hand, after casting a look of gratelul acknowledgment upon the young scout, beckoned him and his companion to follow her. She took a northern direction, following the course of the creek, but cutting off the many curves which it describes, and succeeded in reaching the camp of her tribe at least half an hour in advance of the canoe. Little or nothing was spoken on the road, her capacity as guide necessitating a position in front of the hunters.

When the party reached the outskirts of the village, several sentinels were seen lounging about, and if alone, the white men might have found some difliculty in reaching the termination of their journey without molestation, or at least delay. As it was, however, the presence of the maiden sufficed to clear the way. She was not even questioned, either by the sentinels at the outskirts or by the groups of idling warriors they met and passed, further in the centre. At last the girl stopped before a hut, and turning to the scouts, said :

*'You stay here a little while, me call father." With these words she disappeared in the lodge, and the scouts found time to satisfy a natural curiosity by looking around. This was no common Indian town built on the spur of the moment, nor were the houses recently put up. They were regular blockhouses, erected and afterwards abandoned by the Christian Indians. Most of them were much decayed, having been deserted for more than eight years, nor did the recent improvements appear to be of a very substantial nature. To cut down, hew and square trees was too great a task for Indian patience to be thought of; so instead of renewing the wanting logs or missing shingles, the holes and crevices of the old buildings had been stopped up, and patched in a hurried and therefore careless manner, though may be well enough to answer the purpose. Even in their decayed condition these blockhouses were superior to the general habitations of the Indian, and Robert imagined to notice a more than usual dignity in the warriors, as they walked in and out of their mansions, or through the deserted streets, in which shrubs, trees and grass had until recently struggled for the mastery. Still his chance of observation was very short, for a minute had hardly elapsed since the withdrawal of the maiden, when she reappeared in company of a man, whose appearance was as striking in one way, as hers in another. He was a fine specimen of the Indian chief, such as sketches and border tales have brought his picture down to us. Although his hair began to show streaks of gray, and more than fifty winters must have passed over his head, nothing in his appearance betrayed signs of declining strength. On the contrary, where the muscles and sinews of his body were exposed, they told a tale of strength and power of endurance, which made the thought of a hostile encounter with him rather unpleasant. But more than these signs of undiminished vigor did the noble, dignified deportment, the pleasant smile of his well formed countenance, and the great intelligence of his eagle eyes impress his visitors. He waved his hand to them in token, and then extending it to them for a grasp and a pressure, he said in broken English, which was hardly as good as that of his daughter :

**My pale-face friends are welcome at the wigwam of the Beaver. He be far from his home, and the pale-faces have not left him much : but what he has they are welcome to."

Both scouts took the proffered hand, and David replied :

'*We thank you, Beaver, for your welcome. I suppose you kind o' guess that we are sent by the General in the Fort, to find out whether you have any notions to come to an understandin' or not. So if you will let us know whether you mean peace or war, we neednH bother you very long, but can return at once from where we came, and deliver your answer."

The Beaver smiled.

*' You in big hurry ; but hurry no good. You rest first, then eat, then sleep ; when the great light come again into heaven, then plenty time to speak. Let my brothers step into the wigwam now."

The guests were conducted into a room, which, though bare of civilized furniture, contained bundles of moss or hay, which answered the purpose of chairs. When all had sat down, the Beaver filled his pipe, lit it, and after taking a few draughts handed it to his guests, who imitated his example, and thereby secured his protection. After a grave silence of nearly an hour, the Wild Rose entered through a back-door, and carried on a stick the savory steaks, which were probably cut from the venison recently procured. She had wisely changed her toilet ; but the young hunter thought her as lovely in her plain working suit as in the gaudy dress in which she had first presented herself to his eyes. Indian meals do not admit of much ceremony. The meat being placed on a bundle in the center of the room, each one of the party secured a morsel, and dispatched it without other implements than his fingers, teeth, and perhaps his hunting-knife.

The meal being over, the company arose. "My brothers must be tired," the Beaver suggested. **They may want to lay down and sleep."

**Not just at j)resent, Beaver, thank you," replied David. '*lt don't agree with me to lie down right after supper. So with your permission I shall walk about a little and take a look at your town."

*'Good," said the Beaver, with a smile, and the company stepped again into the street, where the dusk of evening began to gather.

"Stay with the chief," David whispered to his companion, in an undertone, when he could do so without danger of being overheard. "I'll go and reconnoiter the place. There is no tellin' how soon we may want a little information concarnin' it."

Robert nodded, and turning to the chief, drew into a conversation, while his comrade slowly and with seeming carelessness loitered through the village. Here and there he passed groups of warriors, who answered his good evening with a grave nod of the head, but made no attempt at farther intercourse. As the scout had started on his. walk for the purpose of seeing, and not of talking, their reserve was very acceptable to him, and before the setting in of total darkness, he had well nigh finished a circle around the village, and fixed its most prominent features in his memory. He had no special reason for apprehension ; on the contrary, the Delaware chief had smoked the calumet with them, a proceeding entitling them to his protection ; but still the scout had lived too long in the wilderness not to know the instability of its affairs, and the wisdom of being prepared for the worst, while hoping for the best.

While he slowly wandered through and around the villiage, Robert remained with the chief, apparently to be entertained by him, but in reality to engage his attention and withdraw his eye from the movements* of David. For a little while the two exchanged the unmeaning phrases, which good breeding seems to demand in savage as well as civilized society. After talking for half an hour on the weather, or making compliments to one another, the chief informed the scout of the necessity of his departure, as he had to see his brother chiefs, and prepare the tribe for to-morrow's meeting, in which the question of a treaty with the Americans would be discussed. This information was of course intended as an excuse for his departure, and the rough frontier man might indeed have learned many a lesson from his savage neighbor, as far as decorum and dignity of manner is concerned. Self-possession is the foundation of all civility, and this art the Indian was taught from his very infancy. The white back-woodsman, on the contrary, was very impulsive, and given to sudden outbreaks of his passions, a fault hardly calculated to improve his rude manners.

"Me back soon," the chief added; ''but Wild Rose be at home ; my young brother talk to her if lonely."

This hint Robert followed to a letter. The girl came from the house a few moments after her father had departed. She did not bring "her sewing" along, as a white girl would have done under similar circumstances; nor did she show that natural or artificial diffidence, which white girls frequently evince, when alone with young men ; but for all that nature had taught the young savage the duties of her office to perfection. She knew that she was to entertain her guest to the best of her ability, and of this task she acquitted herself with admirable tact. Beckoning him to a rough bench before the house, and taking a seat there herself, she began talking to the young man with a self-possession and intelligence which would have done credit to the levee of a princess.