"Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, ain't you got dat cooked?"
A girl, fifteen or sixteen years of age, seated on the ground, beside a
squaw.
Mary Prescott.
"If you don't want to be killed, get up," said the young officer.
"Niniotan, my son, is late."
"You have saved me, and I want to grasp your hand for it."
But Oonomoo and the Miami had whipped out their knives.
So terrible did the exasperated Huron appear, that the entire party of
Shawnees paused out of sheer horror.
Niniotan stood like a statue, his arms folded and his stony gaze fixed
upon the senseless forms of his parents.
OONOMOO, THE HURON.
CHAPTER I.
HANS VANDERBUM.
The mountain's sides
Are flecked with gleams of light and spots of shade;
Here, golden sunshine spreads in mellow rays, and there,
Stretching across its hoary breast, deep shadows lurk.
A stream, with many a turn, now lost to sight,
And then, again revealed, winds through the vale,
Shimmering in the early morning sun.
A few white clouds float in the blue expanse,
Their forms revealed in the clear lake beneath,
Which bears upon its breast a bark canoe,
Cautiously guided by a sinewy arm.
High in the heavens, three eagles proudly poise,
Keeping their mountain eyrie still in view,
Although their flight has borne them far away.
Upon the cliff which beetles o'er the pool,
Two Indians, peering from the brink, appear,
Clad in the gaudy dress their nature craves--
Robes of bright blue and scarlet, but which blend
In happy union with the landscape round.
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