never a hope
that he might some day have occasion to use it--never one regret that he
had not accepted at once the priceless blessing it offered.

Chapter XVI.

HOW BIG BLACK BURL FIGURED ON THE PEACE-PATH.

It were long, and needless too, to tell of every thing that happened in
and around our little fort during the fortnight the young Indian
remained a captive among the Whites. Captive, however, we should hardly
call him, since he was left entirely at liberty to go whithersoever he
chose; and there was nothing to hinder him from walking back to
Chillicothe, his home, whenever the humor might seize him, except a nice
sense of honor and a crippled arm. Every morning, after he had cheered
his solitude with a pipe of tobacco, Kumshakah--for that was the young
Indian's name--accompanied by Bushie, would go and present himself at
Mrs. Reynolds's door, that, according to her express desire, he might
have his wound dressed. Though grave and reserved in his demeanor toward
every one else, Kumshakah could show himself talkative and affable
enough when alone with Shekee-thepatee ("Little Raccoon"), as he called
his little white friend Bushie. For hours together would these two
loving chums--for such they soon became--keep up a lively, confidential
interchange of thought and sentiment, each in his own language, and
evidently quite as much to the other's entertainment as to his own
satisfaction, which was rather remarkable, seeing that neither
understood a word the other was saying. The other children of the fort,
holding the red stranger in too great awe and dread to trust themselves
within his reach, would watch the two with sharp curiosity from a
distance, admiring and envying the courage and easy assurance with
which their playfellow could rub against so terrible a creature as a
skin-clad, feather-crested Indian warrior, who was always whittling with
his scalping-knife.

Every day the pair would take a long ramble into the forest, in the
course of which they never failed to go or come by the corn-field, where
Big Black Burl--his feet in the peace-path, his head in his peace-cap,
his heart in his peace-song--was tickling the fat ribs of mother earth
with a plow, to make her laugh with johnny-cakes and pumpkin-pies for
his little master. Kumshakah had given his big black friend also a new
name, Mish-mugwa ("Big Bear"); the title being suggested, no doubt, by
the Fighting Nigger's bear-skin rigging no less than by his