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Updated: June 15, 2025
His entrance was the occasion of not a few dark scowls and sinister glances. "Ugh! Yankee black-robe," sneered one of the braves. "Friend of the 'long-knives. The day of fight at Big Rapids him strike up my arm as me going to tomahawk Yankee prisoner. Had great mind to kill him, too." "Ugh!" echoed another; "me see him helping wounded 'long-knife, just like him brother." "No!
The Shawnees had not been consulted in the treaty with the Cherokees. Following the fierce and bloody battle of Point Pleasant in October, 1774, peace had been declared between the Northern Confederacy and the Long-Knife Virginians; nevertheless, here just before the war with England, British agents were stirring the Indians up against the colonists. Kentucky, said the Shawnees, must be cleared.
"Good!" cried the old warrior, as if in reply to what the others had said; "Long-knife go Piankeshaw nation, make great sight for Piankeshaw!" And so saying, he began to dance about, with many grimaces of visage and contortions of body, that seemed to have a meaning for his comrades, who fetched a whoop of admiration, though entirely inexplicable to the soldier.
No go home no more Piankeshaw nation; no more kill bear; no more kill buffalo; no more catch fish; no more feed old squaw, and young squaw, and little papoose; no more kill man, no more take scalp lose own scalp, take it Long-knife man Kentucky; no more see old Piankeshaw son, leave dead, big hole Kentucky; no more see no more Piankeshaw son, Piankeshaw nation!"
The Indian looked from one to the other of us in the growing darkness, and made a gesture of contempt. "The real Great White Father wears a red coat, and is friend to the Pottawattomie," he said with dignity. "He no lie, no shut Indian out of Fort, no steal furs, no throw rum in river. Who this man, White Chief? He no soldier, he long-knife."
The Great Spirit has put the thought into his mind that both alike might be his children; then would his heart leap for joy at the twice-spoken name of father!" "I do not understand the meaning of Bull Tail's words." "Sure, Long-Knife, you are slow to understand! Bull Tail would give his daughter to the Long-Knife. Does not Long-Knife love Chint-zille?"
"Ay!" exclaimed the prisoner, and his eyes shot fire as he spoke, "they fell under his hand, man and boy there was not one of them spared they were of the blood of Wenonga!" "Wenonga is a great chief!" cried the Indian: "he is childless; but childless he has made the Long-knife." "The Long-knife, and the son of Onas!" said Nathan.
The wonderful conjuror, and the wonderful young Long-knife, who was one moment a captive in the hands of Piankeshaws on the banks of the Wabash, and, the next, an invader of a Shawnee village in the valley of the Miami, were both forgotten: the captain of horse-thieves was a much more wonderful person, or, at least, a much more important prize.
"Uncanoola?" said I. He nodded. "Where 'bouts Captain Long-knife going?" I told him briefly; whereat he shook his head. "No find Captain Jennif' this way; find him that way," pointing back along the path. "How does the chief know that? Has he seen him?" Though my long exile had well-nigh cost me the trick of it, I made shift to drop into the stately Indian hyperbole. "Wah!
"Thar they go, the brutes!" roared Tom Bruce, adding as he sprang with his followers among the bushes, "show 'em your noses, and keep a good squint over your elbows." "Long-knife big fool, Piankeshaw eat him up!" cried, the old warrior, now releasing the soldier's throat from durance, but speaking with tones of ire and indignation: "shall see how great Injun fighting-man eat up white man!"
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