Oowikapun Page 8

  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?”

  “Only in my arm do I feel hurt,” she replied.

  On inspection it was found that the wounds there were made by the claws and not by the teeth, and so did not appear serious.

  As these very practical young people discussed the attack and escape, it was unanimously agreed that it was fortunate for Astumastao that she had the heavy load of rabbits on her back and several brace of partridges about her neck. So when the brute sprang upon her, with the exception of wounding her arm, he had only plunged his teeth and claws into the game.

  We need not here go into the particulars of all the beautiful things which were said by these two interesting young people. Human nature is about the same the world over. This is not a romantic love story, even if it turns out to be a lovely story. Suffice it here to say that at first a fire was kindled and the wounded arm was dressed and bandaged. Some balsam from the trees was easily obtained by Oowikapun for the purpose, and a warm wrapping of rabbit skins taken from the newly caught animals sufficed to keep the cold from the wounds. These prompt and thorough Indian methods for curing wounds were most successful, and in a few days they were completely healed. When the dressing of the arm was attended to, Oowikapun returned for his sled, which he had left at the spot where he first caught sight of the catamount, while Astumastao busied herself with cooking some of the game which she had caught, and which she had about ready when he returned.

  Perhaps some of my fastidious readers would not have cared much for a simple meal thus prepared, and eaten without the use of plates or forks; but there are others who have dined in this way, and the remembrance of such meals, with the glorious appetite of forest or mountain air, is to them a delicious memory. This one at any rate was very much enjoyed by these young people. When it was over Oowikapun quickly skinned the catamount, and, leaving the head attached to the skin, he placed it on his sled that it might be shown to the villagers when they arrived. The body he left behind as worthless, as it is never eaten by the Indians, although they are fond of the wild cat, and some other carnivorous animals. Astumastao’s load of game was also placed upon his sled, and then together they resumed their journey to the village.

  Great was the excitement among the people when the story became known, and in their Indian way they at once promoted Oowikapun to the ranks of the great “braves.” He was considered quite a hero and made welcome in all of the wigwams he chose to visit. The aunt of Astumastao welcomed him most cordially, and, kissing him again and again, called him her son, while she thanked him most gratefully for his noble deed. Gladly accepting her invitation, he repeated his visits to her wigwam as often as Indian etiquette would sanction.

  One day, when only the three were present, Oowikapun, who had heard from some of the people of the heroic way in which Astumastao had rescued her Uncle Kistayimoowin from a watery grave, asked her to tell him the story.

  As a general thing among the Indians, but little reference is made to the dead. The whole thing to them, without any light to illumine the valley of the shadow of death, is so dreadful that they do not mention the word death. When obliged to speak of those who have gone they say, “Non-pimatissit,” which means, “He is not among the living.” However, Astumastao and her aunt had none of these foolish notions, especially as, since the sad event, the aunt had eagerly drunk in air the information she could get from her niece, who now had none in the wigwam to crush her song or quiet her speech.

  As Astumastao had a double object in view, she willingly, at the request of her aunt, described the scene as we have already done. She dwelt fully upon Kistayimoowin calling for her to sing, and his longing to learn all he could about the name of Jesus. The recital produced a deep impression upon Oowikapun, and brought up all the memories of his own darkness and mental disquietude, while, month after month, he had been groping along in his vain attempts to find soul-happiness.

  During this interview she told him how she and her aunt had tried ever since her uncle’s death to live in the way of the book of heaven; but that they knew so little, and there were so many mysteries and perplexities all around them, that they were at times much discouraged. Yet there was one thing that they had resolved upon, and that was never to go back to the old pagan religion of their forefathers, for they were happier in their minds now, with the glimmering light of the white man’s way, than ever they had been in their lives before.

  Oowikapun listened and was encouraged. He told them fully of his own troubles, for he felt he had for the first time sympathetic listeners. When he described his various methods to get peace and quiet from his fears and anxieties, and referred to the ceremony of torture through which he had gone, Astumastao’s eyes seemed to flash at first with indignation, and then to fill up with tears. Strong words seemed about to come from her lips, but with an effort she controlled herself, and remained quiet.

  Very frequently did Oowikapun find his way to the wigwam where dwelt these two women, and doubtless many were the things about which they talked.

  For a time he visited the snares and traps and brought in the game. One day he returned with the splendid black fox which Astumastao had tried so hard to capture. For this they gratefully thanked him, as well as for the great, tawny skin of the catamount, which he had carefully prepared as a splendid rug, and spread out for them in their wigwam.

  The wounded arm was now completely healed, and the business which Oowikapun had used as his excuse for coming to the village was long ago arranged, still he lingered.

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  Chapter Twelve.

  A Noble Ambition.

  To the villagers the cause was evident, but why there should be any trouble or delay in his courtship they could not make out. Of course he would take Astumastao’s aunt to live with them, and therefore there was no price to pay for the maiden. So quickly and promptly do they generally attend to these things, that, when matters have gone between their young folks as they evidently imagined they had between these two, a decision one way or another is quickly reached.

  These simple people do not believe in long courtships. So they began to wonder and conjecture why this matter was not settled between them. They were nearly all favourably inclined toward Oowikapun, and were pleased at the prospect of his marrying a maiden of their village. Even some of the young men who had hoped to have won her, when they heard the story of her wonderful deliverance by this fine young hunter of another village, and observed how evident it was that he had set his heart upon her, retired from the field, saying that Oowikapun’s claims to her were greater than theirs, and that for themselves they must look elsewhere.

  But strange to say, while Astumastao’s eyes brightened when Oowikapun entered the wigwam, and her welcome was always kindly, yet she skillfully changed the conversation when it seemed to be leading toward the tender sentiment, and parried with seeming unconsciousness all reference to marriage. And being, as women are, more skillful and quick-witted than men, she, for some reason or other, would never let him see that she appeared to think of him as a suitor for her hand and heart, and by her tact, for some reason unaccountable to him, kept him from saying what was in his heart. And yet she was no mere coquette or heartless flirt. In her great, loving heart was a purpose noble and firm, and a resolve so high that, for the present at least, all other sentiments and feelings m
ust hold a subordinate place. And so, while she did not repel him, or offend his sensitive spirit, she, in some way which he could not exactly define, made him feel that he must defer the thing to him so important, and talk on other subjects. There was one theme on which she was always eager to talk and to get him to talk, and to her it never grew stale or threadbare. It was about what he and she had learned or could remember of the book of heaven, and the good white man’s way.

  She sang her hymns to him, and called up all the memories possible of that happy year in childhood which she had spent in the home of the missionary. She made him tell her over and over again all he could remember of Memotas and Meyooachimoowin, and as well as she could, in her quiet way, let him see how solicitous she was that he should try to find out how to get into this way, which she said, she was sure was the right way and the one in which he could find that soul comfort for which he had been so long seeking.

  Oowikapun was thankful for all this kindness, and was very happy in her presence, but was all the time getting more deeply in love with her, and while anxious to learn all he could from her, had come to the sage conclusion that if she would only marry him he could learn so much the faster.

  It is said “that all things come to him who waits,” and so the opportunity which our Indian friend had so long desired came to him. Astumastao had been telling him one day when they were alone of the persecutions and oppositions she had met with from her uncle Koosapatum, the conjurer, and from others, and then stated how hard it was for her alone to remember about the good Book, and live up to its lessons. Then she added, if there had only been some one among the people who knew more than she did to stand firm with her, they might have helped each other along and been so firm and brave.

  When she had finished. Oowikapun saw his opportunity, and was quick enough in availing himself of it. He replied by deeply sympathising with her, and then, referring to his own difficulties and failures in the past, stated how fearful he was of the future, unless he had some true, brave friend to help him along. Then, suddenly facing her, in strong and loving words he begged and urged her to be his teacher and helper, his counsellor, his wife.

  So quickly had the conversation changed, and so suddenly had come this declaration, that Astumastao was thrown off her guard and more deeply agitated than we have ever seen her before. However, she soon regained her composure, and replied to him—not unkindly, but candidly and unmistakably—that she was very sorry he had made such a request, as she had set her heart upon the accomplishment of some work which perhaps would make it impossible for her to think of marriage for years to come.

  Vainly he urged his suit, but most firmly she resisted; and with only the satisfaction of getting from her the information that at some future interview she would tell him of the great object she had set her heart upon, he had to leave the wigwam, feeling that his chances of winning Astumastao were not quite so bright as he had vainly imagined.

  Oowikapun, as we may well suppose, was very anxious to know the reasons which had so strong a hold upon Astumastao as to cause her thus to act; and, so soon as Indian etiquette would allow another visit to her wigwam, he was not absent.

  When some Indian maidens, who had been learning from Astumastao some new designs in beadwork, at which she was very skillful, had retired, and the two young people and the aunt were now left alone, she, in her clear, straightforward manner, told what was uppermost in her heart. It was of a purpose which had been growing there for years, but which she had only seen the possibility of carrying out since her uncle’s death. She said she believed they ought to have a missionary to teach them the truths in the book of heaven. Pe-pe-qua-napuay, the new chief, was not unfriendly, as he had himself declared that he had lost faith in the old pagan way; and Koosapatum, the conjurer, had lost his power over the young men, who now feared not his threats; and at Tapastanum, the old medicine man, they even laughed when he threatened them. So she had resolved to go all the way to Norway House, to plead with the missionary there to send away to the land of missionaries, and get one to come and live among them and be their teacher of this right way, as described in the book of heaven. She knew it was far away, and her hands and arms would often get weary with paddling many days, and her feet would get sore, and perhaps the moccasins would wear out in the portages where the stones were sharp and the rocks many. But they had talked it all over, and they had resolved to go. Two women were to go with her. One, who was a widow, was to be the guide. She had gone over the way years ago, with her husband, and thought that she could remember the trail. The other was a young woman, the companion of Astumastao, who from being so much with her had learned what she knew, and so longed, for more instruction that she was willing to go on the long journey, hard and dangerous though it was. These two women, she said, were anxious to go with her. They were sick of the way they were living, and longed for the better life and a knowledge, of what was beyond.

  They had been making their preparations for a long time, she said. A friendly family would keep the aunt in her absence and look after her little wigwam. They had been making beadwork and some other things to sell at Norway House, so that they would not be dependent upon the friends there while they pleaded for a missionary.

  Thus talked this noble girl, and, as she went on and described the blessing that would come to her people if she should succeed, she became so fired with this noble resolve which had taken such complete possession of her that poor Oowikapun, while more and more in love with her, felt himself, while under the witchery of her impassioned words, verily guilty in having dared to make a proposal of marriage which would in any way thwart a purpose so noble, and which might be followed by such blessed results.

  And yet, when alone and in cool blood, Oowikapun pondered over the nature of the task she had decided to undertake, and thought of the perils and difficulties in the way to which she and her companions would be exposed, he resolved to try to persuade her to abandon the perilous undertaking.

  Patiently she listened to all he had to say, but she would not be persuaded to abandon this, on which her heart was so set. Seeing this, he tried to arrange some compromise or some other plan. First he asked her to marry him, and let him go along in place of the young Indian maiden, companion of Astumastao. This plan, which seemed so agreeable to Oowikapun, she quickly dismissed, saying that she did not intend to be married until she could be married in the beautiful Christian way she remembered having seen when a child, and by a Christian missionary.

  Failing in this scheme, Oowikapun suggested that he should select some strong young fellow, and that together they should set off as soon as the ice disappeared from the rivers, and present her request.

  To this Astumastao replied, and there was a little tinge of banter, if not of sarcasm, as well as a good deal of seriousness in her voice: “And suppose, in one of the Indian villages through which you might pass, a sun or ghost dance, or even the ceremony of the devil worship or dog feast might be going on, who knows but you might be persuaded to jump into the magic circle and dance yourself senseless? Or if you did not succeed, might you not in your discouragement go off again to the tortures and miseries of hock-e-a-yum?”

  These words made him wince, but he could only feel that they were true, and that he deserved them all; and he felt that, until he did something to redeem himself in the eyes of this brave, true woman, he was only worthy of her reproofs.

  Seeing that her words had so hurt him, this generous-hearted girl, who, while grieved at the failures he had made, could also appreciate his noble qualities and sympathise with him in his struggles for the light, quickly turned the conversation, and then, as though making a confidant of him, told him of all the plans of their contemplated journey, which was to begin just as soon as the spring opened, as they supposed it would take them all the season of open water in their lakes and rivers to go and return. Then she added: “And shall I not be happy when again I see the spire of that house of prayer at Norway House? And if I can only succeed in ge
tting the promise of a missionary to come and dwell among our people I shall forget all the dangers and hardship of the trip.”

  One day, while Oowikapun was pondering over the words of Astumastao, and thinking of the risks she and her companions were about to run, and the dangers they would have to encounter in their great undertaking, and contrasting it with the listless, aimless life he had lately been leading, suddenly there came to him, as a revelation, a noble resolve which took such possession of him and so inspired him that he appeared and acted like another man.

  To carry it out was quickly decided upon, and so, letting no one know of his purpose, he very early, one crisp, wintry morning, tied his little travelling outfit, with his axe and gun, upon his sled, and, without saying “Good-bye” to anyone, even to Astumastao, secretly left the village.

  There were many surmises among the people when it was known that he was gone. Many conjectures were made, and when some hunters returned along the trail which led to his own village, and reported that the tracks of his sled and snow-shoes were not seen in that direction, they were all the more surprised; and it was a long time ere they had any hint of where he had gone or the cause which had taken him away.

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  Chapter Thirteen.

  The Sudden Disappearance.

  The mysterious disappearance of Oowikapun from the village of his friends caused a good deal of excitement and innocent gossip. That he was deeply in love with Astumastao was evident to all, and while she did not allow even her most intimate friends to hear her say that she intended to marry him, yet her conduct very plainly indicated that he stood higher than anyone else in her esteem. That she had positively rejected him none of them could believe. Why then had he thus shown the white feather, and so ignominiously and so suddenly left the field when it seemed so evident that a little more perseverance would have surely resulted in his success. In this way the young men and maidens of the village talked, while the old men gravely smoked the calumets and mourned that the times were so changed that a young brave should have so much trouble in capturing a squaw.