The Trapper's Daughter: A Story of the Rocky Mountains. Gustave Aimard

this moment a movement took place in the crowd assembled round the sweating lodge, in which the old chief, was. The door opened, and Panther appeared. He was an old man of majestic height – in opposition to the majority of Indians, who retain for a long time the appearance of youth – his hair and beard, which fell in disorder on his shoulders and chest, were of a dazzling whiteness. On his face, whose features were imprinted with unconquerable energy, could be seen all the marks of a decrepitude which had attained its last limits. He was clothed in his handsomest costume, and painted and armed for war.

      So soon as he appeared in the doorway of the hut all the chiefs rose. Unicorn walked up to him and respectfully offered his right arm, on which he leant. The old man, supported by his son, tottered up to the fire, before which he squatted. The other chiefs took their place by his side, and the warriors formed a wide circle round them. The great calumet of peace was brought in by the pipe bearer, who presented it to the old man, and when it had gone round the circle, Panther took the word. His voice was low and faint, but, owing to the deep silence that prevailed, it was heard by all.

      "My sons," he said, "I am about to depart for another country; I shall soon be near the Master of Life. I will tell the warriors of our nation whom I meet on the road that the Comanches are still invincible, and their nation is the queen of the prairies."

      A murmur of satisfaction, soon suppressed, however, greeted these words; in a moment the old man continued —

      "Continue to be brave as your ancestors; be implacable to the palefaces, those devouring wolves, covered with an elk skin; let them ever assume the feet of the antelope, to fly more speedily before you, and may they never see the wolf tails you fasten to your heels. Never taste the firewater, that poison, by the help of which the palefaces enervate us, render us weak as women, and incapable of avenging insults. When you are assembling round the war or hunting fire in your camp, think sometimes of Panther, the chief, whose renown was formerly great, and who, seeing that the Wacondah forgot him on earth, preferred to die sooner than be longer a burthen to his nation. Tell the young warriors who tread the path for the first time, the exploits of your chief, Bounding Panther, who was so long the terror of the foes of the Comanches."

      While uttering these words the old chief's eye had become animated, and his voice trembled with emotion. The Indians assembled round him listened to him respectfully.

      "But what use is it to speak thus?" he went on, suppressing a sigh; "I know that my memory will not die out among you, for my son Unicorn is here to succeed me, and guide you in his turn on the path where I so long led you. Bring my last meal, so that we may soon strike up 'the song of the Great Remedy.'"

      Immediately the Indians brought up pots filled with boiled dog's flesh, and at a sign from Panther, the meal commenced. When it was ended the old man lit his calumet, and smoked, while the warriors danced round him, with Unicorn at their head. Presently the old man made a sign, and the warriors stopped.

      "What does my father desire?" Unicorn asked.

      "I wish you to sing the song of the Great Remedy."

      "Good," Unicorn replied, "my father shall be obeyed."

      Then he struck up that strange chant, of which the following is a translation, the Indians joining in chorus and continuing to dance:

      "Master of Life, thou givest us courage! It is true that redskins know that thou lovest them. We send thee our father this day. See how old and decrepit he is! The Bounding Panther has been changed into a clumsy bear! Grant that he may find himself young in another world, and able to, hunt as in former times."

      And the round danced on, the old man smoking his pipe stoically the while. At length, when the calumet was empty, he shook out the ashes on his thumbnail, laid the pipe before him, and looked up to heaven. At this moment the first signs of twilight tinged the extreme line of the horizon with an opaline hue, the old man drew himself up, his eye became animated, and flashed.

      "The hour has come," he said, in a loud and firm voice; "the Wacondah, summons me. Farewell, Comanche warriors; my son, you have to send me to the Master of Life."

      Unicorn drew out the tomahawk hanging from his belt, brandished it over his head, and without hesitation, and with a movement swift as thought, cleft the skull of the old man, whose smiling face was turned to him, and who fell without a sigh.

      He was dead!

      The dance began again more rapid and irregularly, and the warriors shouted in chorus:

      "Wacondah! Wacondah! Receive this warrior! See, he did not fear death! He knew there was no such thing, as he was to be born again in thy bosom!

      "Wacondah! Wacondah! Receive this warrior. He was just! The blood flowed red and pure in his heart! The words his chest uttered were wise!

      "Wacondah! Wacondah! Receive this warrior! He was the greatest and most celebrated of thy Comanche children!

      "Wacondah! Wacondah! Receive this warrior. See how many scalps he wears at his girdle.

      "Wacondah! Wacondah! Receive this warrior!"

      The song and dancing lasted till daybreak, when, at a signal from Unicorn, they ceased.

      "Our father has gone," he said; "his soul has left his body, which it inhabited too long, to choose another abode. Let us give him a burial suited to so great a warrior."

      The preparations were not lengthy; the body of the Bounding Panther was carefully washed, then interred in a sitting posture, with his war weapons; the last horse he had ridden and his dogs were placed by his side, after having their throats cut; and then a bark hut was erected over the tomb to preserve it from the profanation of wild beasts; on the top of the hut a pole was planted, surmounted by the scalps the old warrior had taken at a period when he, still young and full of strength, led the Comanches in action.

      Black Cat witnessed all the affecting incidents of this mournful tragedy respectfully, and with religious devotion. When the funeral rites were ended, Unicorn came up to him.

      "I thank my brother," the Comanche said, "for having helped us to pay the last duties to an illustrious warrior. Now I am quite at my brother's service, he can speak without fear; the ears of a friend are open, and his heart will treasure up the words addressed to it."

      "Unicorn is the first warrior of his nation," Black Cat replied, with a bow; "justice and honour dwell in him: a cloud has passed over my mind and rendered it sad."

      "Let my brother open his heart to me, I know that he is one of the most celebrated chiefs of his nation. Black Cat no longer counts the scalps he has taken from his enemies – what is the reason that renders him sad?"

      The Apache chief smiled proudly at Unicorn's remarks.

      "The friend of my brother, the great pale hunter, adopted by his tribe," he said sharply, "is running a terrible danger at this moment."

      "Wah!" the chief said; "Can that be true? Koutonepi is the flesh of my bones; who touches him wounds me. My brother will explain."

      Black Cat then narrated to Unicorn the way in which Valentine had saved his life, the leagues formed by the Apaches and other nations of the Far West against him, and the critical position in which the hunter now was, owing to the influence of Red Cedar with the Indians, and the forces he had at his command at this moment. Unicorn shook his head over the story.

      "Koutonepi is wise and intrepid," he said; "loyalty dwells in his heart, but he cannot resist – how to help him? A man, however brave he may be, is not equal to one hundred."

      "Valentine is my brother," the Apache answered; "I have sworn to save him. But what can I do alone?"

      Suddenly a woman rushed between, the two chiefs: it was Sunbeam.

      "If my master permits," she said with a suppliant look at Unicorn, "I will help you: a woman can do many things."

      There was a silence, during which the chief regarded the squaw, who stood modest and motionless before them.

      "My sister is brave," Black Cat at length said; "but a woman is a weak creature, whose help is of but very slight weight under such grave circumstances."

      "Perhaps so," she