Part 14 (1/2)
Singing-Bird--for she it was--was apparently not more than two-and-twenty years of age. She was of small, light stature, yet with a full and healthy development of body. Her features, although they possessed the distinctive Indian cast, were moulded into a beauty admirable to behold. Her complexion was a softening of the tawny-red of the warriors into a delicate tint, while her large, dark eyes were full of a gentle expression, that might, if need be, be exchanged for a wild and pa.s.sionate fire. Her long, dark, glossy hair flowed in graceful waves down her neck, and were gathered in rich folds over her brow. Her costume was that of a young Indian female of the period, beautifully and tastefully decorated with ornaments of beads and flowers. As Ichabod first beheld her, the prevailing expression of her countenance was that of a gentle sorrow.
Ichabod was surprised. He had never beheld the wife of Eagle's-Wing, and never before had he beheld a female figure the beauty of which so much surprised and delighted him. He gazed at her with a pleasure he could not conceal, and then, while a melancholy smile pa.s.sed over her countenance, he said--
”You have heard of me from Eagle's-Wing, perhaps, as an old friend? He and I have known each other as tried friends, in times gone by.”
”I have heard of a pale-face,” replied Singing-Bird, in a low, silvery voice, ”who, on the war-path, saved the life of Eagle's-Wing, when he was in the hands of his enemies. I have heard it from Eagle's-Wing.”
”That's a circ.u.mstance not worth mentioning; but Eagle's-Wing and I _are_ friends. He knows he can always rely on me, in any sort of a speculation. But I'm in rather a bad fix here; yet we can always find some way of doing our duty by a friend, if we try. But Eagle's-Wing is free, and isn't far from here--you may depend on that.”
Perhaps the slightest trace of an expression of joy pa.s.sed over her countenance for a moment; but it was instantly subdued. With her eyes fixed upon the ground, she slowly said--
”I loved _once_ to look upon Canendesha--but he has pa.s.sed from my eyes.”
”What!” exclaimed Ichabod with a start that fairly made the withes snap that were fastened upon his limbs.
A momentary look of agony clouded the face of Singing-Bird. She seemed endeavoring to speak, yet had not the power to command her organs of speech.
”Shall I tell Eagle's-Wing this?” exclaimed Ichabod, with indignation.
”Shall I tell him to go back to the villages of his nation, and forget his squaw? Or shall I tell him to come and deliver himself up to his enemies?”
With an effort that seemed almost to destroy her, but which was lost upon Ichabod, as he had given himself up to the mastery of his indignation--she softly answered--
”I have said. Let the pale-face speak my words to his friend.”
It was not merely astonishment--it was shame, uncontrollable disgust, towards the fair being who stood before him, that, for a moment, kept Ichabod silent. When at last he found words to communicate his thoughts, he exclaimed--
”I wouldn't have believed it, if all the Senecas this side of the infarnal regions had told me! Such a beauty! Such a heart. I'll abandon the settlements: I'll thank G.o.d, night and day, that I've no wife! Poor Eagle's-Wing! Go and die. No; I know the heart of Eagle's-Wing. He won't die for a squaw. He'll wince a little, at first: but he'll have the scalps off the heads of the whole tribe of Senecas.” Then, as if concentrating all his indignation into one breath, he glanced at Singing-Bird with a look of abhorrence, and exclaimed--”Go, you painted lie!” and threw himself over on his bed, so as to avert his gaze from her.
Meanwhile, Singing-Bird stood with her eyes riveted upon the ground, and her countenance as calm and impa.s.sable as chiseled stone. A look of agony had impressed it for a moment, but that had fled. Not a gesture--not a breath, denoted that she felt the indignant speech of Ichabod. At its close, however, her ear detected a slight rustling among the leaves, near the door of the hut, and Panther glided from among the boughs, and crept towards an adjoining lodge.
Scarcely had she seen the retreat of the Seneca chief, than the whole expression of her countenance changed--her figure became erect--a fire gleamed in her eyes--a look of intense hatred clouded her countenance.
Then, springing towards the bed of Ichabod, she exclaimed--
”It _is_ a lie. Look at me, friend of Eagle's-Wing. It _is_ a lie: the heart of Singing-Bird is with her husband. She thinks only of him. Tell Eagle's-Wing so. Tell him I shall soon fly from the Senecas.”
Ichabod gazed on her now with admiration. Such consummate _acting_, though he thought himself skilled in Indian ways, he had never seen before. He had seen warriors die bravely, and, unmoved in the hour of peril, exasperate their enemies by words of reproach and shame: he had seen the Indian smile as the scalping-knife tore from his brow the lock of honor; but never did he imagine that one so young, so beautiful, so loving, could give to her countenance a look so false, with a heart so true.
”G.o.d bless thee, girl!” exclaimed he. ”Give me a woman, after all, for stratagem. I don't know _when_ I shall see Eagle's-Wing, but when I do, I'll tell him if he don't s.n.a.t.c.h you from these red devils, he ought to be scalped by Panther himself. Who would have believed it?”
”Eagle's-Wing's friend don't hate Singing-Bird now?”
”Hate you? Lord love you, girl! Give me your hand----- Pshaw! I haven't got a hand to give you: but after this, girl, I'll always believe you, and will find some means to get you out of this sc.r.a.pe. When are these Indians going to leave here?”
”Don't know,” said Singing-Bird. ”They want to get Eagle's-Wing, first.”
”It will be a long while, I reckon, before that happens. But I say,”
asked he, just thinking of the other captive who had been brought in that morning, ”what other prisoner have they got here?”
”They brought in a pale-face girl. King George's man got her from cottage. She stays in hut with me.”