Oowikapun Part 5

To all of these things Astumastao listened, and, not being suspected, she kept what she knew in her heart. She was an active, brave girl, and knew how to handle both the paddle and the gun. Kistayimoowin, her uncle, was pleased with her prowess and industry, and while possessing the pagan ideas about women, so that he would never allow himself to show them any particular affection, yet ever since she had been brought as a little child into his wigwam he had treated her not unkindly. With his superst.i.tious nature he had been strongly influenced by the words of the missionary, when he handed the orphan child over to his care, and had told him that if he wanted the favour of the Great Spirit he must treat her kindly and well.

So it happened that as Kistayimoowin had no children of his own, this bright, active girl was always with him and his wife as they, Indianlike, moved from one hunting ground to another in quest of different kinds of game. As she was so quick and observant, her uncle had taught her many things about the habits and instincts of the different animals and the best method known for their capture. The result was she had become a very Diana, skillful and enthusiastic in the chase.

Thus the years rolled on, and she grew to beautiful young womanhood, and more than one pair of eyes looked toward her as the one they would like to woo and win, or, as they thought of it, be able by abundant or valuable gifts to purchase her from her uncle. Up to this time, however, he had repelled most decidedly all advances made to him for her, and had acted in so harsh a manner toward all would-be suitors that they had been obliged to keep at a respectful distance. So Astumastao was still free as a prairie breeze.

CHAPTER TEN.

A MORTAL WOUND.

The summer following the visit of Oowikapun, Kistayimoowin had taken his wife and his niece and gone out to an island in one of the large lakes to hunt and fish. Theirs was the only wigwam on that island that summer. While out in a small canoe on the lake one day shooting ducks, his gun, which was an old flintlock, unfortunately burst, and, not only severely wounded him, but caused him to upset the canoe while out about half a mile from the sh.o.r.e. His wife and Astumastao heard his wild whoop of danger, and quickly realised the sad position he was in.

Unfortunately they had no other canoe and no friendly helper was within range of their voices. Astumastao, however, like all Indian girls, could swim like a duck; and so without hesitancy she sprang into the lake and as rapidly as possible swam out to the rescue of her wounded uncle, who sorely needed her a.s.sistance. The explosion of the gun had nearly blown off one of his hands, and some pieces of the barrel had entered into his body. The result was that he was very helpless and weak from the loss of blood.

Astumastao reached him as soon as possible, and finding it impossible to right the canoe, she succeeded in tying a deerskin thong around the wounded wrist, and then resolved to try to swim with him to the sh.o.r.e.

It was a desperate undertaking, but she knew just what to do to succeed, if it were possible. The wounded man could do nothing to help himself, so she placed him so that he could put his unwounded hand upon her back, and thus keep afloat, then she bravely struck out for the distant sh.o.r.e.

Only those who have tried to rescue a helpless person in the water can have any correct idea of the fearful task she had to perform; but buoyed up by hope and her naturally brave, true heart, she persevered, and, although at times almost exhausted, she succeeded in reaching the shallow water, out into which her feeble aunt had ventured to come to a.s.sist her. As well as they could, they helped or carried the almost exhausted man to the wigwam, and immediately made use of every means at their disposal to stop the wounds from which his life's blood seemed to be ebbing away.

The poor man was no sooner laid on his bed, weak and exhausted, than he turned his eyes toward Astumastao and startled her, although he spoke in a voice that was little above a whisper.

What he said was, "Nik.u.mootah!" ("Sing!")

Astumastao hesitated not; but choking back her emotions she began in sweet and soothing notes the song we have already heard her sing:

"Jesus, my all, to heaven is gone, He whom I fix my hopes upon; His track I see, and I'll pursue The narrow way, till him I view."

When she had sung two or three verses the sick man said, "Who is this Jesus?"

Not much was it that was remembered through all the long years that had pa.s.sed away since Astumastao had received her last Sabbath school lesson, but she called up all she could, and in that which still clung to her memory was the matchless verse: "For G.o.d so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." The sick man was thrilled and startled, and said, "Say it again and again!" So over and over again she repeated it. "Can you remember anything more?" he whispered.

"Not much," she replied, "only I remember that I was taught that this Jesus, the Son of the Great Spirit, said something like this: 'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.'"

"Did they say," said the dying man, "that that included the Indian? May he, too, go in the white man's way?"

"O yes," she answered; "I remember about that very well. The missionary was constantly telling us that the Great Spirit and his Son loved everybody--Indians as well as whites--and that we were all welcome to come to him. Indeed it must be so, for there are the words I have learned about it out of his great book: 'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.'"

"Sing again to me," he said. And so she sang:

"Lo! glad I come; and thou, blest Lamb, Shalt take me to thee, as I am; Nothing but sin have I to give; Nothing but love shall I receive."

"What did you say his name was?" said the dying man.

"Jesus," she sobbed.

"Lift up my head," he said to his weeping wife. "Take hold of my hand, my niece," he said. "It is getting so dark I cannot see the trail. I have no guide. What did you say was his name?"

"Jesus," again she sobbed. And with that name on his lips he was gone.

Call not this picture overdrawn. Hundreds of these Indians have long lost faith in paganism, and in their hours of peril, or in the presence of death even, many of them who have learned but little about Christianity cling to those who have some knowledge of the great salvation and strive to grope into the way.

The two women were alone on the island with their dead, and with no canoe by which they could return to the distant mainland. But Indian women are quick at devising plans to meet emergencies, and so Astumastao speedily resolved on a plan to bring help to them. What she did was this. She cut a long pole from a clump of tall, slender trees which grew near their wigwam, and then securely fastening her shawl to it, she hoisted it up as a signal on a point where it was visible from the sh.o.r.e. Soon it was observed, and help came speedily.

There was a good deal of genuine sorrow expressed by the Indians in their own quiet way. After many questions had been asked and answered, they wrapped up the body in birch bark, and conveyed it across to the mainland, and there buried it with their usual Indian pagan rites, much to the regret of Astumastao.

Left alone with her aunt, who was quite feeble, upon Astumastao fell the chief work of supplying food for both. Bravely did she apply herself to the task; and such was her skill and industry that a good degree of success crowned her efforts, and very seldom indeed was it that their wigwam was dest.i.tute of food. Often had she some to spare for the old and feeble ones who, according to the heartless custom of some of the tribes, when they reach the time of life when they can neither snare rabbits nor catch fish, are either thrown out of the wigwams in the bitter cold, and left to freeze to death, or they are deserted in the forests, and left to be devoured by the wild beasts.

Astumastao, when a poor orphan child, had been rescued and kindly cared for, and she never forgot those early days and kindly deeds performed for her happiness, and so now we see her ever striving to comfort or help others.

During the remaining part of the summer which followed the sad death of her uncle, she succeeded in killing a number of reindeer, which are at times very plentiful in those high lat.i.tudes. Annoyed by the numerous flies, these reindeer frequently rush into the great lakes and rivers; and as the Indians can paddle their light canoe much faster than these animals can swim, they easily overtake and kill them.

Astumastao, with a couple of other Indian girls, succeeded in killing quite a number of them. Their plan was to lash a sharp knife to the end of a pole, and then when they had paddled near enough they stabbed the deer and dragged it ash.o.r.e. All the deer do not give up without a struggle. This Astumastao found to her cost one day. She and a couple of young maidens about her own age had hurried out to try and kill a famous deer whose many-p.r.o.nged antlers told that he was one of the great monarchs of the forest. When they tried to get near enough to stab him, he suddenly attacked the canoe with such fury that, although Astumastao succeeded in mortally wounding him, yet he so smashed the canoe that it was rendered useless, and the girls had to spring out and swim to the sh.o.r.e, which was a long way off. However, they reached it in safety, amid the laughter of the people, who had observed their discomfiture.

Nothing daunted, however, the plucky girls quickly secured another canoe and paddled out and brought in their splendid deer.

When the long, cold winter set in again, Astumastao applied herself very diligently to the work of trapping and snaring rabbits and some of the smaller fur-bearing animals. In her hunting excursions she followed her plans of the preceding winters, and often plunged farther into the dense forest to set her traps and snares beyond those of any other woman hunter.

Here, in the solitude of nature, she could sing to her heart's content while deftly weaving her snares or setting her traps. On one of these trips she caught a glimpse of a black fox, and suspecting him to be the thief who had been robbing her snares of some rabbits during the last few days, she resolved if possible to capture the valuable animal. His rich and costly fur would buy her and her aunt some valuable blankets and other things much required for their comfort. Returning quickly back to her wigwam, she succeeded in borrowing a fox trap from a friendly hunter, and then making all preparations she started very early the next morning for the spot where she intended to set her trap. The distance was so great that she had to tramp along for several hours on her snow-shoes ere she reached the place. But the air was clear and bracing, and hoping for success in her undertaking she felt but little fatigue. Skillfully she set the trap, and then walking backward, and with a heavy balsam brush carefully brushing out her tracks, she retraced her steps to the ordinary trail, and began collecting her rabbits and partridges from the snares. Although the fox had robbed her of several, yet she was more than ordinarily successful and gathered sufficient to make a heavy load.

At one place the path led her through a dense, gloomy part of, the forest, where the great branches of the trees seemed to interlock above her head, and shut out the greater part of the light and sunshine. But she was a brave Indian maiden who knew no such thing as fear, and so, throwing her heavy load over her shoulder, and supporting it with the carrying strap from her forehead, she cheerily moved along, thinking how happy she would be if she captured that fox to-morrow, when suddenly the shriek of a wild beast rang in her ears, and she was hurled down on her face to the ground.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE RESCUE.

We left Oowikapun hurrying along on willing feet at the place in the forest where he had first observed the snowshoe tracks of the hunter of the village he was approaching. Observing that the tracks were those of a woman, he could not help hoping that they were those of the fair maiden whom he had met near that same spot two winters before. This hope filled him with pleasant antic.i.p.ation, and so on and on he hurried.

As he strode along swiftly but quietly, an object caught his attention that filled him with excitement and called for all his hunter's experience and trained instincts. Crouching down, and yet hurrying along rapidly, in front of him, not three hundred yards away, was an enormous catamount. This was not a mere lynx or wild cat, but one of those great fierce brutes, more allied to the mountain lion of the Rockies, or the panthers, now about extinct, in the western and northern part of this continent.

As Oowikapun watched the graceful, dangerous brute gliding along before him, the thought came into his mind that perhaps this was the very one whose wild, weird shrieks had sounded in his ears so dolefully, as he shivered in the little wigwam of the village he was now approaching.

Knowing the habits of these animals, he supposed this one, from its rapid, persistent, forward movements, and the absence of that alert watchfulness which they generally possess, was on the track of a deer.

Oowikapun dropped to the ground and carefully looked for the tracks of the game that this fierce catamount was pursuing, but to his surprise he could not discover the footprints of any animal. All at once the truth flashed upon him, that this fierce brute had got on the trail of the woman, and, maddened it may be by hunger, was resolved to attack her.

As he hastened on he became more thoroughly convinced of this, as he observed how like a great sleuth-hound it glided along in the snowshoe tracks before them. Quickly did Oowikapun prepare for action. His trusty gun was loaded with ball. His knife and axe were so fastened in his belt that they were ready for instant use if needed. The strap of his sled was dropped from his shoulders, and thus disenc.u.mbered--with all a hunter's excitement in such a position increased by the thought that perhaps it was Astumastao who was in such danger--he glided along silently, cautiously, and rapidly. Indian trails are very crooked, and so it was that he only now and then caught a glimpse of the bloodthirsty brute; but when he did, he observed it was intent on its one purpose, as it hardly turned its head to the right or the left as it crouched or bounded along. Soon, however, the trail led from the open forest, where the trees were not cl.u.s.tered together very closely, into a dense, gloomy place of venerable old trees, whose great limbs stretched and intertwined with each other for quite a distance. This was the same gloomy part of the forest into which we had seen Astumastao go as she was returning with her heavy load of game.

When Oowikapun reached the entrance to this part of the trail, he was surprised to notice the sudden disappearance of the tracks of the catamount. Rapidly did his eye scan every spot within jumping distance, and still not a vestige of a footstep was visible. However, he was not to be deceived, but, knowing the habits of these animals, he carefully examined the trunks of the trees close at hand, and on one of them he found the marks of the creature's claws, as it had sprung from the trail into it. This discovery, while it added to the excitement of Oowikapun, caused him to be, if possible, more alert and cautious, as he rapidly and silently moved along. These animals can climb trees like squirrels, and glide along from branch to branch with amazing celerity where the trees are large. They seem to prefer to make their attack by springing upon their victims from a tree rather than from the ground, as their aim is, if possible, to seize them by the throat. Oowikapun was aware of this, and it added to his anxiety.

Once or twice he caught sight of the creature as, like a South American puma, it glided along from tree to tree. Soon he saw it pause for an instant, and become greatly agitated, and apparently quiver with excitement. It was still a long shot from him, as he had only a smooth-bore, flintlock gun. The temptation to fire was great, but, wishing to be sure of his aim, he resolved to follow on, and get so near that no second ball would be needed. On again glided the beast, and was soon lost to view, while Oowikapun followed as rapidly as he thought it was best in the crooked trail, when suddenly he heard the wild shriek that seemed to tell of the triumph of the savage beast. As he dashed on, a sharp turn in the trail showed him the bloodthirsty brute tearing at the back of a prostrate woman, upon whom he had sprung from the tree, thus dashing her to the ground.

With all an Indian's coolness and presence of mind, Oowikapun knew that, while he must act quickly, he must also guard against accidentally injuring the woman, and so, raising his gun in position, he shouted the Indian word for "keep still," and as the fierce brute raised his head at the unexpected sound, the bullet went crashing through his brain, and he fell dead as a stone.

To rush forward and find out who the woman was he had rescued, and the extent of her wounds, was but the work of an instant. And that instant was all the woman required to spring up and see who it was that she had to thank for her sudden deliverance from such a terrible death.

Thus face to face they met again--Oowikapun and Astumastao. Reaching out her hand, while her bright eyes spoke more eloquently than her words, she said, "I am very thankful for your coming and for my speedy rescue; and not less so," she added, "when I see it has been by Oowikapun."

"Oowikapun is glad to be of any service to Astumastao," he said, as he took the proffered hand and held it, while he added, "But you are not badly wounded?"