Malaeska: The Indian Wife of the White Hunter

the fores

ight is da

the water

to her wo

its name to the richest intervale in New York State, was always munificent in its hospitality to less fortunate brethren, to whom its hunting-grounds were ever open. Malaeska knew that her pe

hat beat over the little cove near her lodge where she had kept it moored. She made no attempt to remedy its desolate look. The tiger-skin was left behind in her lodge. No crimson cushions rendered the single seat tempting to sit upon. These fanciful comforts were intended for

ream. She had few wants, but pulled at the oars all day long, keeping time to the

happy days spent, after the sylvan fashion, with her boy, and she would sit moaning over the untasted food till the very birds that hovered near would pause in their singing to look ask

n traced at intervals by some rock close to the shore, blackened with embers, where she had bak

ary, heavy-hearted dread of pursuing her journey further. What if her people should reject her as a renegade? She had deserted them in their

oul rather courted pain, and would have smiled to know that death was near. Some vague ideas of religion, that the gentle grandmother of her son had taken pai

se: under the wild grape-vines that bent down the young elms with their purple fruit-under the golden willows and dusky pines she sou

ress, she threaded the forest-paths, knowing by the hacked trees that her tribe had passed that way. But her path was rough, and the encampment far off, and she had many a heavy mile to walk before it could be reached. Her

me in sight of those familiar lodges. In all her sorrow, she could not forget that s

entered the encampment and sought the lodge which, by familiar s

sisterhood liked to be in the way of intelligence. Malaeska had changed greatly during the years that she had been absent among the whites. If the lightness and grace of youth were gone, a more imposing dign

without finding a familiar face, she walked on toward the lodge, and lifting the mat, stood within the openi

t would have made a person who feared death tremble. Malaeska stood undismayed, surveying the savage group with a calm, regretful lo

, daughter of t

h the lodge and the women crowded tog

Malaeska, "he told me to go down the great water and carry

the friend of her father, arose

fathers. The hemlock that was green has died at the top since then.

r voice faltered. "The boy is not dead-yet M

as he become the enemy of our people?" said ano

his youth, had besought her to share his wigwam. A gleam of proud rep

ome back to her tribe like a bird with its wings bro

e pride of her character rose as the

her own people. She tried to bring the boy into the forest again, but they f

er father was loud in the woods. She comes back when the corn is ripe, but there is no wigwam open

open air, and gathering fiercely around the door, cried out, "Give her to us! She has stolen

to seize Malaeska, who stood pale and still before them; but the chief, whom

great chief dies only by the hands of a chief. To the war

his face-how changed it was since the

that want my

e to the east-it is growing dark; the forest is deep; no one shall

er life belonged to him. He had a right to choose the time and place of her execution. But the women expressed their disapp

d over it the day before. Thus, in darkness and profound silence, she walked on all night till her limbs were so weary that she longed to call

walked along without deigning a reply. During the day he took a handful of parched corn from his po

k, near the very spot where she had left her boat. Th

came so near. She cast one look of pathetic pleading on his face,

lae

quivered as the name once so swee

oat leaves no track. Go! the Great Spirit will light you w

her heart swelled with gentle sweetness, which was the grace of her ci

"Malaeska has no wor

mble; a glow of the old

ty; will you go back? It is

inted upwar

d, waiting for Malaeska to come. Could sh

ed; then they settled down into the cold gravity o

from its mooring, and motioned her to jump in; he forbore to touch her hand, or even look on her face, but saw her take up the oars and leave th

the river, urged by a white man, the only one who over visited his tribe. This man was a missionary among the

een rescued, and of the forlorn life to which she must henceforth be consigned. There was something grand in this compassion that touched a thousand generous impulses in the missionary's heart. He w

Malaeska's little craft by its slender cable, and he was conversing

y could be performed. His mission lay always where human souls required knowledge. So he never left the lonely woman till long after they had passed the mouth of the Mohawk, and were floating on the Hudson. When they came in sight of the Catskill range

trifles as her inventive talent could create, and if any of the

had whistled for years; but she went diligently to work, gathering moss and turf with which this old home, connected with so many sweet and bitter associations, was rendered habitable again. Then s

fore Malaeska's residence in the neighborhood was known. She shrank from approaching a people w

he had questioned the missionary earnestly about these lands, and had now a settled idea of their extent and distance across the ocean. The great waters no long