CHAPTER XXVII.
"And underneath that face like summer's dreams, Its lips as moveless, and its cheek as clear, Slumbers a whirlwind of the heart's emotions, Love, hatred, pride, hope, sorrow--all save fear." --HALLECK.
The only singularity connected with the great age of the Indian and thenegro, was the fact that they should have been associates for near acentury, and so long intimately united in adventures and friendship. Isay friendship, for the term was not at all unsuited to the feeling thatconnected these old men together, though they had so little in common inthe way of character. While the Indian possessed all the manly and highqualities of a warrior of the woods, of a chief, and of one who hadnever acknowledged a superior, the other was necessarily distinguishedby many of the wickednesses of a state of servitude; the bitterconsequences of a degraded caste. Fortunately both were temperate, by nomeans an every-day virtue among the red-men who dwelt with the whites,though much more so with the blacks. But Susquesus was born at Onondago,a tribe remarkable for its sobriety, and at no period of his long lifewould he taste any intoxicating drink, while Jaaf was essentially asober man, though he had a thorough "nigger" relish for hard cider.There can be little doubt that these two aged memorials of past ages,and almost forgotten generations, owed their health and strength totheir temperance, fortifying natural predispositions to tenacity oflife.
It was always thought that Jaaf was a little the senior of the Indian,though the difference in their ages could not be great. It is certainthat the red-man retained much the most of his bodily powers, though,for fifty years, he had taxed them the least. Susquesus never worked;never would work in the ordinary meaning of the term. He deemed it to bebeneath his dignity as a warrior, and, I have heard it said, thatnothing but necessity could have induced him to plant, or hoe, even whenin his prime. So long as the boundless forest furnished the deer, themoose, the beaver, the bear, and the other animals that it is usual forthe red-man to convert into food, he had cared little for the fruits ofthe earth, beyond those that were found growing in their native state.His hunts were the last regular occupation that the old man abandoned.He carried the rifle, and threaded the woods with considerable vigorafter he had seen a hundred winters; but the game deserted him, underthe never-dying process of clearing acre after acre, until little of thenative forest was left, with the exception of the reservation of my own,already named, and the pieces of woodland that are almost invariablyattached to every American farm, lending to the landscape a relief andbeauty that are usually wanting to the views of older countries. It isthis peculiarity which gives to so many of the views of the republic,nay, it may be said to all of them, so much of the character ofpark-scenery when seen at a distance, that excludes the blemishes of awant of finish, and the coarser appliances of husbandry.
With Jaaf, though he had imbibed a strong relish for the forest, and forforest-life, it was different in many respects. Accustomed to labor fromchildhood, _he_ could not be kept from work, even by his extreme oldage. He had the hoe, or the axe, or the spade in his hand daily, manyyears after he could wield either to any material advantage. The littlehe did in this way, now, was not done to kill thought, for he never hadany to kill; it was purely the effect of habit, and of a craving desireto be Jaaf still, and to act his life over again.
I am sorry to say that neither of these men had any essential knowledge,or any visible feeling for the truths of Christianity. A hundred yearsago, little spiritual care was extended to the black, and the difficultyof making an impression in this way on the Indian has become matter ofhistory. Perhaps success best attends such efforts when the piousmissionary can penetrate to the retired village, and disseminate hisdoctrines far from the miserable illustration of their effects, that isto be hourly traced, by the most casual observer, amid the haunts ofcivilized men. That Christianity does produce a deep and benigninfluence on our social condition cannot be doubted; but he who is onlysuperficially acquainted with Christian nations, as they are called, andsets about tracing the effects of this influence, meets with so manyproofs of a contrary nature, as to feel a strong disposition to doubtthe truth of dogmas that seem so impotent. It is quite likely such wasthe case with Susquesus, who had passed all the earlier years of hisexclusive association with the pale-faces, on the flanks of armies, oramong hunters, surveyors, runners, and scouts; situations that were notvery likely to produce any high notions of moral culture. Nevertheless,many earnest and long-continued efforts had been made to awaken in thisaged Indian some notions of the future state of a pale-face, and topersuade him to be baptized. My grandmother, in particular, had keptthis end in view for quite half a century, but with no success. Thedifferent clergy, of all denominations, had paid more or less attentionto this Indian, with the same object, though no visible results hadfollowed their efforts. Among others, Mr. Warren had not overlooked thispart of his duty, but he had met with no more success than those who hadbeen before him. Singular as it seemed to some, though I saw nothingstrange in it, Mary Warren had joined in this benevolent project with agentle zeal, and affectionate and tender interest, that promised toachieve more than had been even hoped for these many years by herpredecessors in the same kind office. Her visits to the hut had beenfrequent, and I learned that morning from Patt, that, "though Maryherself never spoke on the subject, enough has been seen by others toleave no doubt that her gentle offices and prayers had, at last,touched, in some slight degree, the marble-like heart of the Trackless."
As for Jaaf, it is possible that it was his misfortune to be a slave ina family that belonged to the Episcopal Church, a sect that is sotempered and chastened in its religious rites, and so far removed fromexaggeration, as often to seem cold to those who seek excitement, andfancy quiet and self-control incompatible with a lively faith. "Yourpriests are unsuited to make converts among the people," said anenthusiastic clergyman of another denomination to me, quite lately."They cannot go among the brambles and thorns without tearing theirgowns and surplices." There may be a certain degree of truth in this,though the obstacle exists rather with the convert than with themissionary. The vulgar love coarse excitement, and fancy that a profoundspiritual sensibility must needs awaken a powerful physical sympathy. Tosuch, groans, and sighs, and lamentations must be not only audible toexist at all, but audible in a dramatic and striking form with men, inorder to be groans, and sighs, and lamentations acceptable with God. Itis certain, at any rate, that the practices which reason, education, agood taste, and a sound comprehension of Christian obligations condemn,are, if not _most_ effective, still effective with the ignorant andcoarse-minded. Thus may it have been with Jaaf, who had not fallen intothe hands of the exaggerated during that period of life when he was mostlikely to be aroused by their practices, and who now really seemed tohave lived beyond everything but the recollections connected with thepersons and things he loved in youth.
As men, in the higher meaning of the term, the reader will remember thatSusquesus was ever vastly the superior of the black. Jaaf's intellecthad suffered under the blight which seems to have so generally causedthe African mind to wither, as we know that mind among ourselves; whilethat of his associate had ever possessed much of the loftiness of agrand nature, left to its native workings by the impetus of anunrestrained, though savage liberty.
Such were the characters of the two extraordinary men whom we now wentforth to meet. By the time we reached the lawn, they were walking slowlytoward the piazza, having got within the range of the shrubbery thatimmediately surrounds, and sheds its perfume on the house. The Indianled, as seemed to become his character and rank. But Jaaf had neverpresumed on his years and indulgences so far as to forget his condition.A slave he had been born, a slave had he lived, and a slave he woulddie. This, too, in spite of the law of emancipation, which had, in fact,liberated him long ere he had reached his hundredth year. I have beentold that when my father announced to Jaaf the fact that he and all hisprogeny, the latter of which was very numerous, were fre
e and at libertyto go and do as they pleased, the old black was greatly dissatisfied."What good dat all do, Masser Malbone," he growled. "Why 'ey won't letwell alone? Nigger be nigger, and white gentle'em be white gentle'em. I'speck, now, nuttin' but disgrace and poverty come on my breed! Wealways _hab_ been gentle'em's nigger, and why can't 'ey let us begentle'em's nigger as long as we like? Ole Sus hab liberty all he life,and what good he get? Nuttin' but poor red sabbage, for all dat, andnever be anyt'ing more. If he could be gentle'em's sabbage, I tell him,_dat_ war' somet'ing; but, no, he too proud for dat! Gosh! so he only heown sabbage!"
The Onondago was in high costume; much higher even than when he firstreceived the visit of the prairie Indians. The paint he used gave newfire to eyes that age had certainly dimmed, though they had notextinguished their light; and fierce and savage as was the conceit, itunquestionably relieved the furrows of time. That red should be as muchthe favorite color of the redskin is, perhaps, as natural as that ourladies should use cosmetics to imitate the lilies and roses that arewanting. A grim fierceness, however, was the aim of the Onondago; itbeing his ambition, at that moment, to stand before his guests in thecolors of a warrior. Of the medals and wampum, and feathers, andblankets, and moccasons, gay with the quills of the porcupine, tingedhalf a dozen hues, and the tomahawk polished to the brightness ofsilver, it is not necessary to say anything. So much has been said, andwritten, and seen, of late, on such subjects, that almost every one nowknows how the North American warrior appears when he comes forth in hisrobes.
Nor had Jaaf neglected to do honor to a festival that was so peculiarlyin honor of his friend. Grumble he would and did, throughout the wholeof that day; but he was not the less mindful of the credit and honor ofSusquesus. It is the fashion of the times to lament the disappearance ofthe red-men from among us; but, for my part, I feel much more disposedto mourn over the disappearance of the "nigger." I use the Doric, inplace of the more modern and mincing term of "colored man;" for theDoric alone will convey to the American the meaning in which I wish tobe understood. I regret the "nigger;" the old-fashioned, careless,light-hearted, laborious, idle, roguish, honest, faithful, fraudulent,grumbling, dogmatical slave; who was at times good for nothing, and,again, the stay and support of many a family. But him I regret inparticular is the domestic slave, who identified himself with theinterests, and most of all with the _credit_ of those he served, and whoalways played the part of an humble privy counsellor, and sometimes thatof a prime minister. It is true, I had never seen Jaaf acting in thelatter capacity, among us; nor is it probable he ever did exactlydischarge such functions with any of his old masters; but he was a muchindulged servant always, and had become so completely associated withus, by not only long services, but by playing his part well and manfullyin divers of the wild adventures that are apt to characterize thesettlement of a new country, that we all of us thought of him rather asan humble and distant relative, than as a slave. Slave, indeed, he hadnot been for more than fourscore years, his manumission-papers havingbeen signed and regularly recorded as far back as that, though theyremained a perfect dead letter, so far as the negro himself wasconcerned.
The costume of Yop Littlepage, as this black was familiarly called byall who knew anything of his existence, and his great age, as well asthat of Susquesus, had gotten into more than one newspaper, was of whatmight be termed the old school of the "nigger!" The coat was scarlet,with buttons of mother-of-pearl, each as large as a half-dollar; hisbreeches were sky blue; the vest was green; the stockings striped blueand white, and the legs had no other peculiarities about them than thefacts that all that remained of the calves was on the shins, and thatthey were stepped nearer than is quite common to the centre of the foot;the heel-part of the latter being about half as long as the partconnected with the toes. The shoes, indeed, were somewhat conspicuousportions of the dress, having a length, and breadth, and proportionsthat might almost justify a naturalist in supposing that they were neverintended for a human being. But the head and hat, according to Jaaf'sown notion, contained the real glories of his toilet and person. As forthe last, it was actually laced, having formed a part of my grandfatherGeneral Cornelius Littlepage's uniform in the field, and the woolbeneath it was as white as the snow of the hills. This style of dresshas long disappeared from among the black race, as well as from amongthe whites; but vestiges of it were to be traced, my uncle tells me, inhis boyhood; particularly at the pinkster holidays, that peculiarfestival of the negro. Notwithstanding the incongruities of his attire,Yop Littlepage made a very respectable figure on this occasion, thegreat age of both him and the Onondago being the circumstances thataccorded least with their magnificence.
Notwithstanding the habitual grumbling of the negro, the Indian alwaysled when they made a movement. He had led in the forest, on the earlyhunts and on the war-paths; he had led in their later excursions on theneighboring hills; he always led when it was their wont to stroll to thehamlet together, to witness the militia musters and other similarstriking events; he even was foremost when they paid their daily visitsto the Nest; and, now, he came a little in advance, slow in movement,quiet, with lips compressed, eye roving and watchful, and far from dim,and his whole features wonderfully composed and noble, considering thegreat number of years he had seen. Jaaf followed at the same gait, but avery different man in demeanor and aspect. _His_ face scarce seemedhuman, even the color of his skin, once so glistening and black, havingchanged to a dirty gray, all its gloss having disappeared, while hislips were, perhaps, the most prominent feature. These, too, were inincessant motion, the old man working his jaws, in a sort of secondchildhood; or as the infant bites its gums to feel its nearly developedteeth, even when he was not keeping up the almost unceasingaccompaniment of his grumbles.
As the old man walked toward us, and the men of the prairies had not yetshown themselves, we all advanced to meet the former. Every one of ourparty, the girls included, shook hands with Susquesus, and wished him agood morning. He knew my grandmother, and betrayed some strong feeling,when he shook _her_ hand. He knew Patt, and nodded kindly in answer toher good wishes. He knew Mary Warren, too, and held her hand a littletime in his own, gazing at her wistfully the while. My uncle Ro and Iwere also recognized, his look at me being earnest and long. The twoother girls were courteously received, but his feelings were littleinterested in them. A chair was placed for Susquesus on the lawn, and hetook his seat. As for Jaaf, he walked slowly up to the party, took offhis fine cocked hat, but respectfully refused the seat he too wasoffered. Happening thus to be the last saluted, he was the first withwhom my grandmother opened the discourse.
"It is a pleasant sight, Jaaf, to see you, and our old friend Susquesus,once more on the lawn of the old house."
"Not so berry ole house, Miss Duss, a'ter all," answered the negro, inhis grumbling way. "Remem'er him well 'nough; only built tudder day."
"It has been built threescore years, if you call that the other day. Iwas then young myself; a bride--happy and blessed far beyond my deserts.Alas! how changed have things become since that time!"
"Yes, you won'erful changed--must say _dat_ for you, Miss Duss. Isometime surprise myself so young a lady get change so berry soon."
"Ah! Jaaf, though it may seem a short time to you, who are so much mysenior, fourscore years are a heavy load to carry. I enjoy excellenthealth and spirits for my years: but age will assert its power."
"Remem'er you, Miss Duss, like dat young lady dere," pointing atPatt--"now you _do_ seem won'erful change. Ole Sus, too, berry muchalter of late--can't hole out much longer, I do t'ink. But Injin nebberhab much raal grit in 'em."
"And you, my friend," continued my grandmother, turning to Susquesus,who had sat motionless while she was speaking to Jaaf--"do you also seethis great change in me? I have known you much longer than I have knownJaaf; and _your_ recollection of me must go back nearly to childhood--tothe time when I first lived in the woods, as a companion of my dear,excellent old uncle, Chainbearer."
"Why should Susquesus forg
et little wren? Hear song now in his ear. Nochange at all in little wren, in Susquesus's eye."
"This is at least gallant, and worthy of an Onondago chief. But, myworthy friend, age will make its mark even on the trees; and we cannothope to escape it forever!"
"No; bark smooth on young tree--rough on ole tree. Nebber forgetChainbearer. He's same age as Susquesus--little ole'er, too. Bravewarrior--good man. Know him when young hunter--he dere when _dat_happen."
"When _what_ happened, Susquesus? I have long wished to know what droveyou from your people; and why you, a red man in your heart and habits,to the last, should have so long lived among us pale-faces, away fromyour own tribe. I can understand why you like _us_, and wish to pass theremainder of your days with this family; for I know all that we havegone through together, and your early connection with my father-in-law,and _his_ father-in-law, too; but the reason why you left your ownpeople so young, and have now lived near a hundred years away from them,is what I could wish to hear, before the angel of death summons one ofus away."
While my grandmother was thus coming to the point, for the first time inher life, on this subject, as she afterward told me, the Onondago's eyewas never off her own. I thought he seemed surprised; then his lookchanged to sadness; and bowing his head a little, he sat a long time,apparently musing on the past. The subject had evidently aroused thestrongest of the remaining feelings of the old man, and the allusion toit had brought back images of things long gone by, that were probablyreviewed not altogether without pain. I think his head must have beenbowed, and his face riveted on the ground, for quite a minute.
"Chainbearer nebber say why?" the old man suddenly asked, raising hisface again to look at my grandmother. "Ole chief, too--he know; nebbertalk of it, eh?"
"Never. I have heard both my uncle and my father-in-law say that theyknew the reason why you left your people, so many long, long, years ago,and that it did you credit; but neither ever said more. It is reportedhere, that these red-men, who have come so far to see you, also know it,and that it is one reason of their coming so much out of their way topay you a visit."
Susquesus listened attentively, though no portion of his personmanifested emotion but his eyes. All the rest of the man seemed to bemade of some material that was totally without sensibility; but thoserestless, keen, still penetrating eyes, opened a communication with thebeing within, and proved that the spirit was far younger than thetenement in which it dwelt. Still, he made no revelation; and ourcuriosity, which was getting to be intense, was completely baffled. Itwas even some little time before the Indian said anything more at all.When he did speak, it was merely to say--
"Good. Chainbearer wise chief--Gin'ral wise, too. Good in camp--good atcouncil-fire. Know _when_ to talk--know _what_ to talk."
How much further my dear grandmother might have been disposed to pushthe subject, I cannot say, for just then we saw the redskins coming outof their quarters, evidently about to cross from the old farm to thelawn, this being their last visit to the Trackless, preparatory todeparting on their long journey to the prairies. Aware of all this, shefell back, and my uncle led Susquesus to the tree where the benches wereplaced for the guests, I carrying the chair in the rear. Everybodyfollowed, even to all the domestics who could be spared from theordinary occupations of the household.
The Indian and the negro were both seated; and chairs having beenbrought out for the members of the family, we took our places near by,though so much in the back ground as not to appear obtrusive.
The Indians of the prairies arrived in their customary marching order,or in single files. Manytongues led, followed by Prairiefire;Flintyheart and Eaglesflight came next, and the rest succeeded in anameless but perfect order. To our surprise, however, they brought thetwo prisoners with them, secured with savage ingenuity, and in a way torender escape nearly impossible.
It is unnecessary to dwell on the deportment of these strangers, as theytook their allotted places on the benches, it being essentially the sameas that described in their first visit. The same interest, however, wasbetrayed in their manner, nor did their curiosity or veneration appearto be in the least appeased by having passed a day or two in theimmediate vicinity of their subject. That this curiosity and venerationproceeded, in some measure, from the great age and the extendedexperience of the Trackless was probable enough, but I could not divestmyself of the idea that there lay something unusual behind all, whichtradition had made familiar to these sons of the soil, but which hadbecome lost to us.
The American savage enjoys one great advantage over the civilized man ofthe same quarter of the world. His traditions ordinarily are true,whereas, the multipled means of imparting intelligence among ourselveshas induced so many pretenders to throw themselves into the ranks of thewise and learned, that blessed, thrice blessed is he, whose mind escapesthe contamination of falsehood and prejudice. Well would it be for menif they oftener remembered that the very facilities that exist tocirculate the truth, are just so many facilities for circulatingfalsehood; and that he who believes even one-half of that which meetshis eyes, in his daily inquiries into passing events, is most apt tothrow away quite a moiety of even that much credulity, on facts thateither never had an existence at all, or, which have been so mutilatedin the relation, that their eye-witnesses would be the last to recognizethem.
The customary silence succeeded the arrival of the visitors; thenEaglesflight struck fire with a flint, touched the tobacco with theflame, and puffed at a very curiously carved pipe, made of some softstone of the interior, until he had lighted it beyond any risk of itssoon becoming extinguished. This done, he rose, advanced with profoundreverence in his air, and presented it to Susquesus, who took it andsmoked for a few seconds, after which he returned it to him from whom ithad been received. This was a signal for other pipes to be lighted, andone was offered to my uncle and myself, each of us making a puff or two;and even John and the other male domestics were not neglected.Prairiefire himself paid the compliment to Jaaf. The negro had notedwhat was passing, and was much disgusted with the niggardliness whichrequired the pipe to be so soon returned. This he did not care toconceal, as was obvious by the crusty observation he made when the pipewas offered to him. Cider and tobacco had from time immemorial been thetwo great blessings of this black's existence, and he felt at seeing onestanding to receive his pipe, after a puff or two, much as he might havefelt had one pulled the mug from his mouth, after the second or thirdswallow.
"No need wait here"--grumbled old Jaaf--"when I done, gib you de pipe,ag'in; nebber fear. Masser Corny, or Masser Malborne, or MasserHugh--dear me, I nebber knows which be libbin' and which be dead, I getso ole, nowaday! But nebber mind if he be ole; can smoke yet, and don'tlub Injin fashion of gibbin' t'ings; and dat is gib him and den takeaway ag'in. Nigger is nigger, and Injin is Injin; and nigger best. Lord!how many years I _do_ see--I do see--most get tire of libbin' so long.Don't wait, Injin; when I done, you get pipe again, I say. Best not makeole Jaaf _too_ mad, or he dreadful!"
Although it is probable that Prairiefire did not understand one-half ofthe negro's words, he comprehended his wish to finish the tobacco,before he relinquished the pipe. This was against all rule, and aspecies of slight on Indian usages, but the red-man overlooked all, witha courtesy of one trained in high society, and walked away as composedlyas if everything were right. In these particulars the high-breeding ofan Indian is always made apparent. No one ever sees in his deportment, ashrug or a half-concealed smile, or a look of intelligence; a wink or anod, or any other of that class of signs, or communications, which it isusually deemed underbred to resort to in company. In all things, he isdignified and quiet, whether it be the effect of coldness, or the resultof character.
The smoking now became general, but only as a ceremony; no one but Jaafsetting to with regularity to finish his pipe. As for the black, hisopinion of the superiority of his own race over that of the red-man, wasas fixed as his consciousness of his inferiority to the white, and hewould have thought the circumstance t
hat the present mode of usingtobacco was an Indian custom, a sufficient reason why he himself shouldnot adopt it. The smoking did not last long, but was succeeded by asilent pause. Then Prairiefire arose and spoke.
"Father," he commenced, "we are about to quit you. Our squaws andpappooses, on the prairies, wish to see us; it is time for us to go.They are looking toward the great salt lake for us; we are lookingtoward the great fresh-water lakes for them. There the sun sets--here itrises; the distance is great, and many strange tribes of pale-faces livealong the path. Our journey has been one of peace. We have not hunted;we have taken no scalps; but we have seen our great father, uncle Sam,and we have seen our great father Susquesus; we shall travel toward thesetting sun satisfied. Father, our traditions are true; they never lie.A lying tradition is worse than a lying Indian. What a lying Indiansays, deceives his friends, his wife, his children; what a lyingtradition says, deceives a tribe. Our traditions are true; they speak ofthe Upright Onondago. All the tribes on the prairies have heard thistradition, and are very glad. It is good to hear of justice; it is badto hear of injustice. Without justice an Indian is no better than awolf. No; there is not a tongue spoken on the prairies which does nottell of that pleasant tradition. We could not pass the wigwam of ourfather without turning aside to look at him. Our squaws and pappooseswish to see us, but they would have told us to come back, and turn asideto look upon our father, had we forgotten to do so. Why has my fatherseen so many winters? It is the will of the Manitou. The Great Spiritwants to keep him here a little longer. He is like stones piled togetherto tell the hunters where the pleasant path is to be found. All thered-men who see him think of what is right. No; the Great Spirit cannotyet spare my father from the earth, lest red-men forget what is right.He is stones piled together."
Here Prairiefire ceased, sitting down amid a low murmur of applause. Hehad expressed the common feeling, and met with the success usual to suchefforts. Susquesus had heard and understood all that was said, and Icould perceive that he felt it, though he betrayed less emotion on thisoccasion than he had done on the occasion of the previous interview.Then, the novelty of the scene, no doubt, contributed to influence hisfeelings. A pause followed this opening speech, and we were anxiouslywaiting for the renowned orator Eaglesflight, to rise, when a singularand somewhat ludicrous interruption of the solemn dignity of the sceneoccurred. In the place of Eaglesflight whom Manytongues had given usreason to expect would now come forth with energy and power, a muchyounger warrior arose and spoke, commanding the attention of hislisteners in a way to show that he possessed their respect. We were toldthat the young warrior's name, rendered into English, was Deersfoot, anappellation obtained on account of his speed, and which we were assuredhe well merited. Much to our surprise, however, he addressed himself toJaaf, Indian courtesy requiring that something should be said to theconstant friend and tried associate of the Trackless. The reader may becertain we were all much amused at this bit of homage, though every oneof us felt some little concern on the subject of the answer it mightelicit. Deersfoot delivered himself, substantially, as follows:--
"The Great Spirit sees all things; he makes all things. In his eyes,color is nothing. Although he made children that he loved of a redcolor, he made children that he loved with pale faces, too. He did notstop there. No; he said, 'I wish to see warriors and men with facesdarker than the skin of the bear. I will have warriors who shallfrighten their enemies by their countenances.' He made black men. Myfather is black; his skin is neither red, like the skin of Susquesus,nor white, like the skin of the young chief of Ravensnest. It is nowgray, with having had the sun shine on it so many summers; but it wasonce the color of the crow. Then it must have been pleasant to look at.My black father is very old. They tell me he is even older than theUpright Onondago. The Manitou must be well pleased with him, not to havecalled him away sooner. He has left him in his wigwam, that all theblack men may see whom their Great Spirit loves. This is the traditiontold to us by our fathers. The pale men come from the rising sun, andwere born before the heat burned their skins. The black men came fromunder the sun at noon-day, and their faces were darkened by looking upabove their heads to admire the warmth that ripened their fruits. Thered men were born under the setting sun, and their faces were colored bythe hues of the evening skies. The red man was born here; the pale manwas born across the salt lake; the black man came from a country of hisown, where the sun is always above his head. What of that? We arebrothers. The Thicklips (this was the name by which the strangersdesignated Jaaf, as we afterward learned) is the friend of Susquesus.They have lived in the same wigwam, now, so many winters, that theirvenison and bear's-meat have the same taste. They love one another.Whomsoever Susquesus loves and honors, all just Indians love and honor.I have no more to say."
It is very certain that Jaaf would not have understood a syllable thatwas uttered in this address, had not Manytongues first given him tounderstand that Deersfoot was talking to him in particular, and thentranslated the speaker's language, word for word, and with greatdeliberation, as each sentence was finished. Even this care might nothave sufficed to make the negro sensible of what was going on, had notPatt gone to him, and told him, in a manner and voice to which he wasaccustomed, to attend to what was said, and to endeavor, as soon asDeersfoot sat down, to say something in reply. Jaaf was so accustomed tomy sister, and was so deeply impressed with the necessity of obeyingher, as one of his many "y'ung missuses"--_which_ he scarcely knewhimself--that she succeeded in perfectly arousing him; and he astonishedus all with the intelligence of his very characteristic answer, which hedid not fail to deliver exactly as he had been directed to do.Previously to beginning to speak, the negro champed his toothless gumstogether, like a vexed swine; but "y'ung missus" had told him he _must_answer, and answer he _did_. It is probable, also, that the old fellowhad some sort of recollection of such scenes, having been present, inhis younger days, at various councils held by the different tribes ofNew York; among whom my grandfather, General Mordaunt Littlepage, hadmore than once been a commissioner.
"Well," Jaaf began, in a short, snappish manner, "s'pose nigger _must_say somet'in'. No berry great talker, 'cause I no Injin. Nigger had toomuch work to do, to talk all 'e time. What you say 'bout where niggercome from, isn't true. He come from Africa, as I hear 'em say, 'longtime ago. Ahs, me! how ole I do get! Sometimes I t'ink poor ole blackman be nebber to lie down and rest himself. It _do_ seem dat ebberybodytake his rest but old Sus and me. I berry strong, yet; and git strongerand stronger, dough won'erful tired; but Sus, he git weaker and weakerebbery day. Can't last long, now, poor Sus! Ebbery body _must_ die sometime. Ole, ole, ole masser and missus, fust dey die. Den Masser Cornygo; putty well adwanced, too. Den come Masser Mordaunt's turn, andMasser Malbone, and now dere anudder Masser Hugh. Well, dey putty muchall de same to me. I lubs 'em all and all on 'em lubs me. Den Miss Dusscount for somet'in', but she be libbin', yet. Most time she die, too,but don't seem to go. Ahs, me! how ole I _do_ git! Ha! dere come demdebbils of Injins, ag'in, and dis time we _must_ clean 'em out! Get yourrifle, Sus; get your rifle, boy, and mind dat ole Jaaf be at yourelbow."
Sure enough, there the Injins _did_ come; but I must reserve an accountof what followed for the commencement of the next chapter.