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The daughter of Weeum the Good must be brought back. It is not necessary to bring back Attick or his men. Their scalps will do as well." "Waugh!" pronounced with much emphasis showed that the old man's words were not only understood, but thoroughly appreciated. At this moment occurred the second event which I have said was the cause of surprise in the camp that night, if not of commotion.
"He took the mother of Waboose home to dwell with Himself and with her father Weeum. And men and women, you know, cannot be taken to the happy land without leaving their children behind them fatherless and motherless." Big Otter did not reply, but I saw by his grave look that he was not satisfied.
I shall never know it now." "At all events you must know his name, Waboose?" "His name was Weeum," replied the girl quickly. "Was that all?" "All," she replied with a quick look, "was not that enough?" "Well, perhaps it was," I replied, scarce knowing what to say. "And why did he give you the name of Waboose?" I asked.
It seemed so to me now, as I beheld the tall Indian stooping to gaze with intense earnestness into the tear-besprinkled face of the little old lady, who gazed with equally intense amazement into his huge, dark visage. "What does he mean by Weeum?" she asked, with an appealing look at me. "Weeum," I replied, "is the Indian way of pronouncing William.
Then, unfolding the last writing of the poor fellow whom the Indians had styled Weeum the Good, I slowly translated it into the Indian language. It was not an easy task; for, besides feeling that it stirred the heart of the listener with powerful emotions, I had great difficulty in taking my eyes off her changeful face, so as to read the manuscript.
Indeed, I myself found, now that I had frequent opportunities of conversing with Eve Liston, that the man who had been affectionately styled Weeum the Good by the Indians, had stored his child's mind with much varied secular knowledge, such as Indians never possess, besides instilling into her the elevating and refining precepts of Christianity.
"Waboose told me," he said. "Does the daughter of Weeum the Good hold communion with evil spirits?" asked the old chief, with a slight elevation of the eyebrows. "Not willingly, but evil spirits force themselves upon the daughter of Weeum the Good. My father knows that Attick is presumptuous. He wishes to mate Waboose."
She stopped, for at the moment her mother opened her eyes, and looked wistfully round. "Weeum!" she murmured, in a faint voice. "I thought I heard him speak." "No, dear mother," said Eve, beginning to weep silently. "Your spirit was in the land of dreams." "See," said I, pouring some hot tea into a cup and stirring it. "I have brought you some of the pale-faces' sweet-water.
Your late son, dear madam, was much beloved and respected by the tribe of Indians, with whom he dwelt, and was known to them only by the name of William, or Weeum. This man was his most intimate and loving friend and brother-in-law." The poor old lady was deeply affected while I spoke, for of course my words confirmed at last, her long resisted fear that Willie was indeed no longer of this world.
Attick went to Waboose, and offered to take her to his wigwam; but the daughter of Weeum the Good turned away from him. Attick is proud, and he is fierce. He told Waboose that he would kill all the pale-faces. Although a fool, he does not boast. Waboose knew that he was in earnest. "Did she tell you so?" asked Muskrat, sharply. "No; but the blue eyes of Waboose tell tales.
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