Edward Brabourne - Uncle Joe's Stories

So, indeed, it turned out, and out of the twenty-five savages who had captured us, I believe that nearly one-half escaped unhurt. More might have done so if the gallant Jumbo had not thought it necessary to take an active part in the combat, which he did by pursuing and pulling down several of the Sioux, who thus became easy victims to their pursuers.

"Pig-face and four of his men were taken unhurt, and when our friends re-assembled, and congratulations had passed between them and Moon-eye, the latter, having introduced me to her tribe, told them of the fate which the Sioux chief had intended for each of us.

"The leader of the Pawnees, who rejoiced in the name of 'the Rattle-snake,' and was painted to represent that interesting animal, approached the unhappy Pig-face after this, and gave him a piece of his mind upon the subject. I did not understand what he said, of course, being, as I told you before, somewhat ignorant of their language; but I knew by the manner of the two that they were going on after the usual Indian fashion, the one telling the other that he should soon be tied to the stake, and what jolly fun it would be to torture him till he howled again, and the other replying that he was a great chief, that the other belonged to a nation of women, and that if he tortured him as he said, he would see that a chief knew how to die.

"When they had satisfied themselves with this little interchange of compliments, 'the Rattle-snake' came up to me and spoke in his own language, saying, I have no doubt, several things which I should have very much liked to understand. I suppose, however, that my countenance showed him that he might as well have been talking to one of the trees, for he presently turned to Moon-eye and beckoned her to approach, which she accordingly did. Then he spoke to her in the same tongue, and she interpreted what he said to me in her pretty broken English.

"'Chief say he tank pale-face broder for kill bad Indian. Pawnee him friend, – white skin, Pawnee heart.'

"When I understood what the girl said, I replied at once that I was very much obliged for his good opinion, but that as a matter of fact my killing the bad Indians was not on account of any particular friendship for his tribe, but because if I had not done so, the beggars would certainly have killed me . 'The Rattle-snake' listened to this explanation with great attention, and answered through the interpreter that this was doubtless very true, inasmuch as these thieving Indians would kill any fellow they found in the woods if it suited their purpose; but that, nevertheless, a warrior who had assisted in disposing of so many Sioux must be a friend to the Pawnees, even if he had never heard of them before.

"There was no arguing against such a reason as this, and I therefore at once professed myself as a decided friend to the Pawnees, then and for ever. To tell the truth, I was not disinclined to become so, since Moon-eye had made such a deep impression upon me, that I felt a natural liking towards her people. The thought had several times crossed my mind during the last few days, whether I should not be much happier if I gave up the roving life which I had followed so long, and settled down comfortably in some quiet nook of the world, exchanging continual restlessness for domestic tranquillity. Coupled with this thought came another, namely, that I had become so unused to the polished manners of civilized people, that an Indian home and an Indian bride might possibly bring me more happiness than a return to my native land. So I resolved to accept the offer of the Pawnees to return with them to their own village, and bethought me at the same time that if I could but win the heart of the lovely Moon-eye, I might settle down among her people and become a regular Pawnee.

"Perhaps, my dear children, this might have been the case, and your dear uncle might now have been walking about with his head shaved for the most part, with an eagle's feather behind his ear, moccasins on his feet, and in every respect a perfect Indian. One little circumstance alone prevented me, and this was the painful fact that Moon-eye herself took a different view of the case. I soon discovered that her young affections had long been fixed upon a young chief of her tribe, who enjoyed the appellation of 'the Rising Sun,' and as he seemed to return the young lady's feelings, I thought I should only get into hot water if I acted upon my first idea. So I forthwith made up my mind that it would be a shocking thing for a white man of my education and position to marry an ignorant Indian girl, and that it was evidently my duty to think no more of it.

"I went to the Pawnee's village with them and stayed for a few weeks very happily. You will perhaps be glad to hear that Pig-face and his young men were not tortured after all. They were exchanged for prisoners whom the Sioux had taken in their last raid, and I never heard any more about them. Moon-eye was very gracious to me whilst I was with her people, but it annoyed me to see that fellow 'Rising Sun' always following her about, and I therefore shortened my stay.

"Jumbo and I took our departure early one morning, and were accompanied by a number of the tribe for some distance on our way. We had many more curious adventures together in the woods, my trusty companion and I, and very lucky we were to have come so well out of them all. But on looking back to my forest and wilderness life, I never remember to have had a more stirring adventure than that of which I have just told you. It sometimes comes back to me now, as I lie awake at nights: I fancy I see those ten vagabonds tramping after me through the woods, – then comes the horrid scene with the snake – the battle – the slaughter – the waking – the flight with Moon-eye – the capture – the rescue, – all comes flitting like a vision before my eyes, and I drop to sleep at last, wondering how I have been preserved through so much trouble and so many dangers, and thinking how lucky it is for you young ones to have a respectable old uncle with so many experiences to relate, and such interesting and curious tales with which to instruct and amuse your young minds."

King Fridolin sat gloomily in the ancient halls of his race. A mighty race, forsooth, had they been for many a long year, and a mighty king was Fridolin. I shall not tell you the precise situation of his kingdom, for it is only by avoiding particular descriptions that we historians escape a variety of impertinent and troublesome questions. Suffice it to say that the monarch ruled over a territory of goodly size, containing mountains, forests, houses, vineyards, cornfields, and everything else which the neighbourhood of a mighty river could supply. For a river, mighty, indeed, in size and reputation, flowed through his kingdom, and was the principal glory of his land. The monarch had succeeded to the throne at an early age, and had reigned for long years over his people. They, poor creatures, had apparently only been created in order to minister to his comfort. Ground down by oppressive taxation, their spirits broken, their bodies subject to the will of their despotic master, their homes held only at his pleasure, and scarcely daring to call their very thoughts their own, they dragged on such a miserable existence as was permitted to them, without a hope or an idea that their condition could ever be improved by any effort of their own. But with him, their imperious lord, the case was surely different. He, one would have imagined, had everything to make him happy. Lands, vassals, money – what would he more? And yet King Fridolin sat gloomily in his ancient halls. His crown was upon his head – surmounted by his favourite crest, representing the figure of an eagle clapping its wings; his left hand rested upon the hilt of the mighty sword which he and his fathers before him had so often wielded in battle, whilst in his right hand he held a watering-pot, by means of which he tormented his Lord Chamberlain, who, having offended him, and being troubled with a bad cold, had been ordered to stand below the balcony upon which his majesty sat, whilst the royal hand let iced water fall upon his bald head. But even as he watered, King Fridolin pondered, and melancholy were his thoughts the while. Broad, indeed, were his lands, full were his coffers, obedient his vassals, but he lacked that sunshine of the heart, without which life is dull and heavy at the best. Moreover, he had no one who dared to contradict him, no one who ventured to suggest to him any alteration in his way of living, no new occupation which could relieve him from the oppressive dulness under which he suffered. So there he sat, watering and thinking and wishing for he knew not what — anything to relieve the dreary monotony of his existence. Suddenly he started up.