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Updated: June 14, 2025
Up popped the Indian's head, crack went the six-shooter; the head turned slowly, leaving the top exposed. Crack again went the alert gun of the soldier, the ball striking the head just below the scalp-lock and instantly jerking the body into a kneeling position. Then all was quiet in the gloomy woods.
It proceeded from an Indian's hut, in the centre of which a large fire was blazing. We made our way towards it, hoping to obtain a guide; besides, we required rest, and it was necessary to obtain it at all risks. The owner of the hut was seated before the fire boiling a pot of cocoa, and he did not appear to be surprised on seeing us.
And if, as the Indian's narrative implied, this particular valley had been selected deliberately because it was so hidden and so inaccessible, and if the described precautions had been taken to isolate its inhabitants, it very well might have continued to be lost in its deep concealment through an almost infinite range of years.
Yet the spirits of evil and the spirits of goodness are represented under the Indian's masked dances, just as the old miracle plays represented Faith, Hope, Charity, Lust, Greed, etc. There is the Bird Dance representing the gyrations of hummingbird, mocking-bird, quail, eagle, vulture. There is the dance of the "mud-heads." Have we no "mud-heads" befuddling life at every turn of the way?
He carefully wrapped it about the paper, and bestowed it somewhere within his shirt. The white man watched him in silence. When the operation was complete he abruptly thrust out one powerful hand. Just for an instant a gleam of pleasure lit the Indian's dark eyes. He gingerly responded. Then, as the two men gripped, the "spat" of rifle-fire began again.
He too was keeping his gaze directed toward Mr. Wentworth, whom he doubtless recognized. "White man very angry heap mad as mad, in fact, as a wet hen," said Bob, trying to imitate an Indian's way of talking, but making a sad mess of it in his excitement.
If the attack was half-hearted and the Indians gained time to rally, Celeste would suffer the consequences; they could kill her or escape with her. If you wish to gain an Indian's respect you must make a neat job of shooting him down. He never forgives a bungler. "And then," said Gabriel, "we will rush in with our knives and hatchets. It must be all done in a moment."
Although he felt the utmost confidence in the fact that Crow Wing had not come clear from Lake George simply to give him this warning and to bid him good-bye, Enoch still remained silent upon that subject which the Indian's appearance had brought so forcibly to his mind.
He wore less clothing than when he was in the white man's school at Albany, his arms and shoulders being bare, though not painted. The young Indian's aspect, too, had changed.
But an hour spent in a hammock in the shadiest part of the grove could not wipe out all memory of the past few days, nor quiet the uneasiness which had come to be Good Indian's portion. "I've got to go up on the hill again right after dinner, Squaw-with-sun-hair," he told her at last. "I can't rest, somehow, as long as those gentlemen are camping down in the orchard. You won't mind, will you?"
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