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The Prairie Chief By: Robert Michael Ballantyne (1825-1894) |
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CHAPTER ONE. THE ALARM. Whitewing was a Red Indian of the North American prairies. Though not a
chief of the highest standing, he was a very great man in the estimation
of his tribe, for, besides being possessed of qualities which are highly
esteemed among all savages such as courage, strength, agility, and the
like he was a deep thinker, and held speculative views in regard to the
Great Manitou (God), as well as the ordinary affairs of life, which
perplexed even the oldest men of his tribe, and induced the younger men
to look on him as a profound mystery. Indeed the feelings of the latter towards Whitewing amounted almost to
veneration, for while, on the one hand, he was noted as one of the most
fearless among the braves, and a daring assailant of that king of the
northern wilderness, the grizzly bear, he was, on the other hand, modest
and retiring never boasted of his prowess, disbelieved in the principle
of revenge, which to most savages is not only a pleasure but a duty, and
refused to decorate his sleeves or leggings with the scalp locks of his
enemies. Indeed he had been known to allow more than one enemy to
escape from his hand in time of war when he might easily have killed
him. Altogether, Whitewing was a monstrous puzzle to his fellows, and
much beloved by many of them. The only ornament which he allowed himself was the white wing of a
ptarmigan. Hence his name. This symbol of purity was bound to his
forehead by a band of red cloth wrought with the quills of the
porcupine. It had been made for him by a dark eyed girl whose name was
an Indian word signifying "light heart." But let it not be supposed
that Lightheart's head was like her heart. On the contrary, she had a
good sound brain, and, although much given to laughter, jest, and
raillery among her female friends, would listen with unflagging
patience, and profound solemnity, to her lover's soliloquies in
reference to things past, present, and to come. One of the peculiarities of Whitewing was that he did not treat women as
mere slaves or inferior creatures. His own mother, a wrinkled, brown
old thing resembling a piece of singed shoe leather, he loved with a
tenderness not usual in North American Indians, some tribes of whom have
a tendency to forsake their aged ones, and leave them to perish rather
than be burdened with them. Whitewing also thought that his betrothed
was fit to hold intellectual converse with him, in which idea he was not
far wrong. At the time we introduce him to the reader he was on a visit to the
Indian camp of Lightheart's tribe in Clearvale, for the purpose of
claiming his bride. His own tribe, of which the celebrated old warrior
Bald Eagle was chief, dwelt in a valley at a considerable distance from
the camp referred to. There were two other visitors at the Indian camp at that time. One was
a Wesleyan missionary who had penetrated to that remote region with a
longing desire to carry the glad tidings of salvation in Jesus to the
red men of the prairie. The other was a nondescript little white
trapper, who may be aptly described as a mass of contradictions. He was
small in stature, but amazingly strong; ugly, one eyed, scarred in the
face, and misshapen; yet wonderfully attractive, because of a sweet
smile, a hearty manner, and a kindly disposition. With the courage of
the lion, Little Tim, as he was styled, combined the agility of the
monkey and the laziness of the sloth. Strange to say, Tim and Whitewing
were bosom friends, although they differed in opinion on most things. "The white man speaks again about Manitou to day," said the Indian,
referring to the missionary's intention to preach, as he and Little Tim
concluded their midday meal in the wigwam that had been allotted to
them. "It's little I cares for that," replied Tim curtly, as he lighted the
pipe with which he always wound up every meal. Of course both men spoke in the Indian language, but that being probably
unknown to the reader, we will try to convey in English as nearly as
possible the slightly poetical tone of the one and the rough Backwoods'
style of the other... Continue reading book >>
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Genres for this book |
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Fiction |
History |
Religion |
Teen/Young adult |
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