The Sun Maid - A Story of Fort Dearborn

Evelyn Raymond

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• Publié par: soul
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 22
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Sun Maid, by Evelyn Raymond This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Sun Maid A Story of Fort Dearborn Author: Evelyn Raymond Release Date: June 16, 2010 [eBook #32843] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SUN MAID*** E-text prepared by D Alexander and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries (http://www.archive.org/details/americana) Note: Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive/American Libraries. See http://www.archive.org/details/sunmaidstoryoffo00raym THE SUN MAID A STORY OF FORT DEARBORN BY EVELYN RAYMOND AUTHOR OF “THE LITTLE LADY OF THE HORSE,” ETC. FORT DEARBORN NEW YORK E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 31 W EST TWENTY-THIRD ST. COPYRIGHT, 1900 BY E. P. DUTTON & CO. The Knickerbocker Press, New York Page 22. KITTY AND THE SNAKE. Frontispiece. TO ALL YOUNG HEARTS IN THAT FAIR CITY BY THE INLAND SEA CHICAGO PREFACE. In some measure, the story of the Sun Maid is an allegory. Both the heroine and the city of her love grew from insignificant beginnings; the one into a type of broadest womanhood, the other into a grandeur which has made it unique among the cities of the world. Discouragements, sorrows, and seeming ruin but developed in each the same high attributes of courage, indomitable will power, and far-reaching sympathy. The story of the youth of either would be a tale unfinished; and those who have followed, with any degree of interest, the fortunes of either during any period will keep that interest to the end. There are things which never age. Such was the heart of the Maid who remained glad as a girl to the end of her century, and such the marvellous Chicago with a century rounded glory which is still the glory of a youth whose future magnificence no man can estimate. E. R., BALTIMORE, January, 1900. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. AS THE SUN WENT DOWN II. TWO FOR BREAKFAST III. IN INDIAN ATTIRE IV. THE WHITE BOW 1 13 27 38 V. HORSES: WHITE AND BLACK VI. THE THREE GIFTS VII. A THREEFOLD CORD IS STRONGEST VIII. AN ISLAND RETREAT IX. AT MUCK-OTEY-POKEE X. THE CAVE OF REFUGE XI. UNDER A WHITE MAN’S ROOF XII. AFTER FOUR YEARS XIII. THE HARVESTING XIV. ONCE MORE IN THE OLD HOME XV. PARTINGS AND MEETINGS XVI. THE SHUT AND THE OPEN DOOR XVII. A DAY OF HAPPENINGS XVIII. WESTWARD AND EASTWARD OVER THE PRAIRIE XIX. THE CROOKED LOG XX. ENEMIES, SEEN AND UNSEEN XXI. FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH XXII. GROWING UP XXIII. HEROES XXIV. CONCLUSION 50 64 77 91 107 124 138 156 169 180 194 209 231 247 260 272 284 296 306 315 ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE FORT DEARBORN BLACK PARTRIDGE AND THE SUN MAID KITTY AND THE SNAKE THE GIFT OF THE WHITE BOW SNOWBIRD AND THE SUN MAID GASPAR AND KITTY REACH THE FORT “KITTY! MY KITTY!” OSCEOLO AND GASPAR Title-page Frontispiece 6 22 48 68 188 258 276 THE SUN MAID. CHAPTER I. AS THE SUN WENT DOWN. along W ith gloom inofhis heart, Black Partridge strode homewardtops of the beach path.on the west and the The glory a brilliant August sunset crimsoned the the sandhills waters of the broad lake on the east; but if the preoccupied Indian observed this at all, it was to see in it an omen of impending tragedy. Red was the color of blood, and he foresaw that blood must flow, and freely. “They are all fools. All. They know that Black Partridge cannot lie, yet they believe not his words. The white man lies, and works his own destruction. His doom be on his head!” [Pg 1] As his thought took this line the chief’s brow grew still more stern, and an expression of contempt curled the corners of his wide, thin lips. A savage though he was, at that moment he felt himself immeasurably superior to the pale-faces whom he had known; and in the consciousness of his integrity [Pg 2] he held his tall form even more erect, while he turned his face toward the sky in gratitude to that Great Spirit who had made him what he was. Then again he remembered the past, and again his feather-adorned head drooped beneath its burden of regret, while his brown fingers clasped and unclasped themselves about a glittering medal which decorated his necklace, and was the most cherished of his few possessions. “I have worn it for long, and it has rested lightly upon my heart; but now it becomes a knife that pierces. Therefore I must return it whence it came.” Yet something like a sigh escaped him, and his hands fell down straight at his sides. Also, his narrow eyes gazed forward upon the horizon, absently, as if their inward visions were much clearer than anything external. In this manner he went onward for a little distance, till his moccasined foot struck sharply against something lying in his path, and so roused him from his reverie. “Ugh! Ugh! So. When the squaw dies the papoose must suffer.” The soft obstruction was a little child, curled into a rounded heap, and fast asleep upon this primitive public highway. The touch of the red man’s foot had partially wakened the sleeper, and when he bent and laid his hand upon her shoulder, she sprang up lightly, at once beginning to laugh and chatter with [Pg 3] a gayety that infected even the stolid Indian. “Ugh! The Little-One-Who-Laughs. Why are you here alone, so far from the Fort, Kitty Briscoe?” “I runned away. Bunny rabbit runned away. I did catch him two times. I did find some posies, all yellow and round and—posies runned away, too. Ain’t that funny? Kitty go seek them.” Her laughter trilled out, bird clear, and a mischievous twinkle lighted her big blue eyes. “I runned away. Bunny rabbit runned to catch me. I runned to catch bunny. I caught the posies. Yellow posies gone—I go find them, too.” As if it were the best joke in the world, the little creature still laughed over her own conceit of so many runnings till, in whirling about, she discovered the remnants of the flowers she had lost upon the heathardened path behind her. Indeed, when she had dropped down to sleep, overcome by sudden weariness, it had been with the cool leaves and blossoms for a couch. Now the love of all green and growing things was an inborn passion with this child, and her face sobered to a keen distress as she gazed upon her ruined treasures. But