Chapter 5

Several years previous to the Revolution a Scotchman and his wife, named M'Dougal, emigrated to America. Having but very little money, he purchased land where it was then sold for almost nothing, in a country thinly peopled, and on the extreme verge of civilization.

His first care was to construct a house and clear away some of the trees around it This done, he spent his whole time, early and late, in making a garden and cultivating a few fields. By unwearied industry and with the occasional help of older settlers, he by degrees acquired a stock of cattle, sheep, and pigs, and was in a rough way, possessed of a comfortable independence. His greatest discomforts were, distance from his neighbors, the church, market, and even the mill; but, above all, the complete separation from his friends; and this he would have felt still more had he been an idle man.

One day, Farmer M'Dougal, having a quantity of corn to grind, knowing that the distance was considerable, and the road none of the smoothest, set out in the morning at sunrise, hoping he should reach home again before dark.

When the farmer was at home he always drove up the cows for his wife to milk, morning and evening; but now this care devolved on her, and the careful woman went out in quest of them. Not accustomed to go far from the house, she found herself in an unknown country, and, with neither pocket compass nor notched trees to guide, it is not to be wondered that she wandered long and wearily to very little purpose. Tall trees seemed to encompass her on every side, or where the view was more open, she beheld the distant blue hills rising one behind another; but no village spire or cottage chimney was there to cheer her on her way, and fatigued with the search, and despairing of finding the cattle, she resolved while it was yet light, to retrace her steps homeward.

But this resolution was more easily formed than executed; she became completely bewildered; she knew not in which direction to turn, and, at length, with tears in her eyes, and her mind agitated almost to distraction, she sunk on the ground. But she had not rested there many minutes before she was startled by the sound of approaching footsteps, and, on looking up, she beheld before her an Indian hunter.

Although Mrs. M'Dougal knew that there were Indians living in the neighborhood, she had never yet seen one, and her terror was very great. The Indian, however, knew her; he had seen her before, he knew where she lived, and he instantly guessed the cause of her distress. He could speak but a few words of English; but he made signs for her to follow him. She did so, and after a few minutes' walk, they arrived at the door of an Indian wigwam. He invited her to enter, but not being able to persuade her to do so, he darted into the wigwam, and spoke a few words to his wife, who instantly appeared, and by the kindness of her manner induced the stranger to enter their humble abode. Venison was prepared for supper, and Mrs. M'Dougal, though still alarmed at the novelty of her situation, could not refuse to partake of the savory meal.

Seeing that their guest was weary, the Indians removed from their place two beautiful deer skins, and, by stretching and fixing them across, divided the wigwam into two apartments. Mats were then spread in both, and the stranger was made to understand that one division was for her accommodation. But here again her courage failed her, and to the most pressing entreaties she replied that she would sit and sleep by the fire. This determination seemed to puzzle the Indian and his squaw sadly. They looked at one another, and conversed softly in their own language; and at length, the squaw taking her guest by the hand, led her to her couch and became her bedfellow.

In the morning she awoke greatly refreshed, and anxious to depart without further delay; but this her new friends would not permit, until she had eaten of their corn cakes and venison. Then the Indian accompanied his guest, and soon conducted her to the spot where the cattle were grazing. These he drove from the wood, on the edge of which Mrs. M'Dougal descried her husband, who was equally delighted at seeing her, as her absence from home all night had caused him great uneasiness. They invited their Indian benefactor to their house, and, on his departure, presented him with a suit of clothes.

Three days after, he returned and endeavored, partly by signs, and partly by broken English, to induce Farmer M'Dougal to follow him into the forest; but he refused. Time was precious to him, who had to work hard for every thing he possessed, and the Indian repeated his entreaties in vain. The poor fellow looked grieved and disappointed; but a moment after, a sudden thought struck him. He hit on an expedient which none but an Indian hunter would have thought of.

Mrs. M'Dougal had a young child, which the Indian's quick eye had not failed to notice; and, finding that his eloquence was completely thrown away upon the parents, he approached the cradle, seized the child, and darted out of the house with the speed of an antelope. The father and mother instantly followed, calling loudly on him to return; but he had no such intention. He led them on, now slower, now faster, and occasionally turning towards them, laughing, and holding up the child to their view.

It is needless to go into all the details of this singular journey, further than to say that the Indian, instead of enticing them to his own wigwam, as they expected, halted on the margin of a most beautiful prairie, covered with the richest vegetation, and extending over several thousand acres. In a moment the child was restored to its parents, who, wondering what so strange a proceeding could mean, stood awhile panting for breath, and looking at one another with silent astonishment.

The Indian, on the other hand, seemed overjoyed at the success of his manoeuvre, and never did a human being frisk about and gesticulate with greater animation. We have heard of a professor of signs, and if such a person were wanted, the selection would not be a matter of difficulty, so long as any remnant exists in the aborigines of North America. All travellers agree in describing their gestures as highly dignified, and their countenances intelligent; and we have Mr. M'Dougal's authority for stating that the hero of this tale proved himself a perfect master of the art of eloquence his broken English was nearly in these words:

"You think Indian treacherous; you think him wish steal the child. No, no; Indian has child of his own. Indian knew you long ago; saw you when you not see him; saw you hard working man. Some white men bad, and hurt poor Indian. You not bad; you work hard for your wife and child; but you choose bad place; you never make rich there. Indian see your cattle go in forest; think you come and catch them; you not come; your wife come. Indian find her faint and weary; take her home; wife fear go in; think Indian kill her! No, no; Indian lead her back; meet you very sad; then very glad to see her. You kind to Indian; give him meat and drink, and better clothes than your own. Indian grateful; wish you come here; not come; Indian very sorry; take the child; know you follow child. If Indian farm, Indian farm here. Good ground; not many trees; make road in less than half a moon; Indians help you; Indians your friends; come, live here."

M'Dougal immediately saw the advantage that such a change would be to him, and, taking the Indian's advice, the day was soon fixed for the removal of the log-house, along with the rest of his goods and chattels; and the Indian, true to his word, brought a party of his red brethren to assist in one of the most romantic removals that ever took place, either in the Old World, or the New.

In a few days a roomy log-house was raised, and garden marked out in the most fertile and beautiful part of the prairie. The Indians continued friendly and faithful, and the good understanding; between them and the white settlers was a source of great comfort to both parties.

Contests with Jaguars

Nature, ever provident, has scattered with a bounteous hand her gifts in the country of the Orinoco, where the jaguar especially abounds. The savannahs, which are covered with grasses and slender plants, present a surprising luxuriance and diversity of vegetation; piles of granite blocks lie here and there, and, at the margins of the plains, occur deep valleys and ravines, the humid soil of which is covered with arums, heliconias, llianas. The shelves of primitive rocks, scarcely elevated above the plain, are partially covered with lichens and mosses, together with succulent plants and tufts of evergreen shrubs with shining leaves. The horizon is bounded with mountains overgrown with forests of laurels, among which clusters of palms rise to the height of more than a hundred feet, their slender stems supporting tufts of feathery foliage. To the east of Atures other mountains appear, the ridge of which is composed of pointed cliffs, rising like huge pillars above the trees.

When these columnar masses are situated near the Orinoco, flamingoes, herons, and other wading birds perch on their summits, and look like sentinels. In the vicinity of cataracts, the moisture which is diffused in the air, produces a perpetual verdure, and wherever soil has accumulated on the plains, it is adorned by the beautiful shrubs of the mountains.

Such is one view of the picture, but it has its dark side also; those flowing waters, which fertilize the soil, abound with alligators: those charming shrubs and flourishing plants, are the hiding places of deadly serpents; those laurel forests, the favorite lurking spot of the fierce jaguar; while the atmosphere, so clear and lovely, abounds with musquitoes and zancudoes, to such a degree that in the missions of Orinoco, the first questions in the morning when two people meet, are, "How did you find the zancudoes during the night? How are we to-day for the musquitoes?"

It is in the solitude of this wilderness, that the jaguar, stretched out motionless and silent, upon one of the lower branches of the ancient trees, watches for its passing prey; a deer, urged by thirst, is making its way to the river, and approaches the tree where this enemy lies in wait. The jaguar's eyes dilate, the ears are thrown down, and the whole frame becomes flattened against the branch. The deer, all unconscious of danger, draws near, every limb of the jaguar quivers with excitement every fibre is stiffened for the spring; then, with the force of a bow unbent, he darts with a terrific yell upon his prey, seizes it by the back of the neck, a blow is given by his powerful paw, and with broken spine the deer falls lifeless to the earth. The blood is then sucked, and the prey dragged to some favorite haunt, where it is devoured at leisure.

Humboldt surprised a jaguar in his retreat. It was near the Joval, below the mouth of the Cano de la Tigrera, that in the midst of wild and awful scenery, he saw an enormous jaguar stretched beneath the shade of a large mimosa. He had just killed a chiguire, an animal about the size of a pig, which he held with one of his paws, while the vultures were assembled in flocks around. It was curious to observe the mixture of boldness and timidity which these birds exhibited; for although they advanced within two feet of the jaguar, they instantly shrunk back at the least motion he made. In order to observe more clearly their proceedings, the travellers went into their little boat, when the tyrant of the forest withdrew behind the bushes, leaving his victim, upon which the vultures attempted to devour it, but were soon put to flight by the jaguar rushing into the midst of them.

The following night, Humboldt and his party were entertained by a jaguar hunter, half-naked, and as brown as a Zambo, who prided himself on being of the European race; and called his wife and daughter, who were as slightly clothed as himself, Donna Isabella and Donna Manuela. As this aspiring personage had neither home nor hut, he invited the strangers to swing their hammocks near his own between two trees, but, as ill-luck would have it, a thunder storm came on, which wetted them to the skin; but their troubles did not end here, for Donna Isabella's cat had perched on one of the trees, and frightened by the thunderstorm, jumped down upon one of the travellers in his cot; he naturally supposed that he was attacked by a wild beast, and as smart a battle took place between the two, as that celebrated feline engagement of Don Quixotte; the cat, who, perhaps had most reason to consider himself an ill-used personage, at length bolted, but the fears of the gentleman had been excited to such degree, that he could hardly be quieted. The following night was not more propitious to slumber. The party finding no tree convenient, had stuck their oars in the sand, and suspended their hammocks upon them. About eleven, there arose in the immediately adjoining wood, so terrific a noise, that it was impossible to sleep. The Indians distinguished the cries of sapagous, alouates, jaguars, cougars, peccaris, sloths, curassows, paraquas, and other birds, so that there must have been as full a forest chorus as Mr. Hullah himself could desire.

When the jaguars approached the edge of the forest, which they frequently did, a dog belonging to the party began to howl, and seek refuge under their cots. Sometimes, after a long silence, the cry of the jaguars came from the tops of the trees, when it was followed by an outcry among the monkeys. Humboldt supposes the noise thus made by the inhabitants of the forest during the night, to be the effect of some contest that had arisen among them.

On the pampas of Paraguay, great havoc is committed among the herds of horses by the jaguars, whose strength is quite sufficient to enable them to drag off one of these animals. Azara caused the body of a horse, which had been recently killed by a jaguar, to be drawn within musket-shot of a tree, in which he intended to pass the night, anticipating that the jaguar would return in the course of it, to its victim; but while he was gone to prepare for his adventure, behold the animal swam across a large and deep river, and having seized the horse with his teeth, dragged it full sixty paces to the river, swam across again with his prey, and then dragged the carcass into a into a neighboring wood: and all this in sight of a person, whom Azara had placed to keep watch. But the jaguars have also an aldermanic gout for turtles, which they gratify in a very systematic manner, as related by Humboldt, who was shown large shells of turtles emptied by them.

They follow the turtles toward the beach, where the laying of eggs is to take place, surprise them on the sand, and in order to devour them at their ease, adroitly turn them on their backs; and as they turn many more than they can devour in one night, the Indians often profit by their cunning. The jaguar pursues the turtle quite into the water, and when not very deep, digs up the eggs; they, with the alligator, the heron, and the gallinago vulture ore the most formidable enemies the little turtles have. Humboldt justly remarks, When we reflect on the difficulty that the naturalist finds in getting out the body of the turtle, without separating the upper and the under shell, we cannot enough admire the suppleness of the jaguar's paw, which empties the double armor of the _arraus_, as if the adhering parts of the muscles had been cut by a surgical instrument.

The rivers of South America swarm with alligators, and these wage perpetual war with the jaguars. It is said, that when the jaguar surprises the alligator asleep on the hot sandbank, he attacks him in a vulnerable part under the tail, and often kills him, but let the alligator only get his antagonist into the water, and the tables are turned, for the jaguar is held under the water until he is drowned.

The onset of the jaguar is always made from behind, partaking of the stealthy treacherous character of his tribe; if a herd of animals, or a party of men be passing, it is the last that is always the object of his attack. When he has made choice of his victim, he springs upon the neck, and placing one paw upon the back of the head, while he seizes the muzzle with the other twists the head round with a sudden jerk which dislocates the spine, and deprives it instantaneously of life: sometimes, especially when satiated with food, he is indolent and cowardly, skulking in the gloomiest depths of the forest, and scared by the most trifling causes, but when urged by the cravings of hunger, the largest quadrupeds, and man himself, are attacked with fury and success.

Mr. Darwin has given an interesting account of the habits of the jaguar: the wooded banks of the great South American rivers appear to be their favorite haunt, but south of the Plata they frequent the reeds bordering the lakes; wherever they are they seem to require water. They are particularly abundant on the isles of the Payana, their common prey being the carpincho, so that it is generally said, that where carpinchos are plentiful, there is little fear of the jaguar; possibly, however, a jaguar which has tasted human flesh, may afterwards become dainty, and like the lions of South Africa, and the tigers of India, acquire the dreadful character of maneaters, from preferring that food to all others.

It is not many years ago since a very large jaguar found his way into a church in Santa Fe; soon afterward a very corpulent padre entering, was at once killed by him: His equally stout coadjutor, wondering what had detained the padre, went to look after him, and also fell a victim to the jaguar; a third priest, marveling greatly at the unaccountable absence of the others, sought them, and the jaguar having by this time acquired a strong clerical taste, made at him also, but he, being fortunately of the slender order, dodged the animal from pillar to post, and happily made his escape; the beast was destroyed by being shot from a corner of the building, which was unroofed, and thus paid the penalty of his sacrilegious propensities.

On the Parana, they have even entered vessels by night. One dark evening the mate of a vessel, hearing a heavy but peculiar footstep on deck, went up to see what it was, and was immediately met by a jaguar, who had come on board, seeking what he could devour; a severe struggle ensued, assistance arrived, and the brute was killed, but the man lost the use of the arm which had been ground between his teeth.

The Gauchos say that the jaguar, when wandering about at night, is much tormented by the foxes yelping as they follow him: this may perhaps serve to alarm his prey, but must be as teasing to him as the attentions of swallows are to an owl, who happens to be taking a daylight promenade; and if owls ever swear, it is under these circumstances.

Mr. Darwin, when hunting on the banks of the Uruguay, was shown three well-known trees to which the jaguars constantly resort, for the purpose, it is said, of sharpening their claws. Every one must be familiar with the manner in which cats, with out-stretched legs and extended claws, will card the legs of chairs and of men; so with the jaguar; and of these trees the bark was worn quite smooth in front; on each side there were deep grooves, extending in an oblique line nearly a yard in length. The scars were of different ages, arid the inhabitants could always tell when a jaguar was in the neighborhood, by his recent autograph on one of these trees.

The Indian Parents.

Captain William Wells was a noted hunter and ranger in the western country. He was captured by the Indians when but a child, and raised among them. When the Indians defeated the United States troops, who were under the command of Generals Harmer and St. Clair, Captain Wells fought among the red men, and distinguished himself by his courage and skill. But when General Wayne was placed at the head of the United States forces in the west.

Captain Wells came over to the side of the whites, and received the command of a company of rangers, or woodmen, who acted as spies and scouts for General Wayne. The captain performed many daring exploits, and caused the Indians to feel that in losing him they had gained a terrible enemy.

Captain Wells was desperate in battle, but he often displayed much kindness and generosity. On one of his excursions with a party of rangers, through the Indian country, he came to the bank of the river St. Mary, and discovered some Indians in canoes coming across the stream. The captain dismounted, and concealed his men near the bank of the river, while he went to the bank in open view, and called to the Indians to come over. As he was dressed nearly in the Indian style, and spoke to them in their own language, the Indians, without suspicion of danger came across the river. The moment the first canoe struck the shore, Wells heard the clicking of the locks of his comrades' rifles, as they prepared to shoot the Indians. But who should be in the canoe, but his Indian father, mother, and their children! As his comrades were coming forward with their rifles cocked, ready to pour in the deadly storm, Wells called upon them to hold their hands. He then informed them who the Indians were, and solemnly declared, that the man who would attempt to injure one of them should receive a ball in his head. He continued, "That family fed me when I was hungry, clothed me when I was naked, and kindly nursed me when I was sick. In every respect they were as kind and affectionate to me as they were to their own children. No one belonging to them shall be hurt." But four men were with the Indian party, and they did not attempt hostility. The short, pathetic speech of Captain Wells found its way to the hearts of his comrades. They entered into his feelings, threw down their rifles and tomahawks, went to the canoe, and shook hands with the trembling Indians in the most friendly manner.

Captain Wells assured the red men that they had nothing to fear from him, and after talking with them to dispel their dread, he said, that General Wayne was approaching with an overwhelming force; that the best thing that the Indians could do was to make peace; that the white men did not wish to continue the war. He urged his Indian father to keep out of danger for the future. The Indians appeared very grateful for his clemency. After the captain bade them farewell, they pushed off their canoe, and went down the river as fast as they could paddle.

Wells's conduct on this occasion proved him to be as generous as he was brave. This famous ranger was killed near Chicago, at the commencement of the war of 1812, in an attempt to save an American garrison. At that time sixty-four whites were attacked by four hundred red men, and all killed or captured. The Indians were very glad to get the scalp of Captain Wells. He was as wild a spirit as ever shouldered a rifle or wielded a tomahawk.

Attack on Captain Ward's Boat

About 1784 and '85, boats ascending the Ohio river were often fired upon by the Indians, and sometimes the crew were all killed or made prisoners. A t that time, the whites had no settlements on either side of the Ohio. But Kentucky contained several very important stations. In 1785, Captain James Ward descended the river, under circumstances, which rendered a meeting with the Indians peculiarly to be dreaded.