While the men were in council with her father, Magaskawee had turned over the con- tents of her work-bag. She had found a small roll of birch-bark in which she kept her porcu- pine quills for embroidery, and pulled the deli- cate layers apart. The White Swan was not altogether the untutored Indian maiden, for she had lived in the family of a missionary in the States, and had learned both to speak and write some English. There was no ink, no pen or pencil, but with her bone awl she pressed upon the white side of the bark the following words:
MR. ANGUS McLEOD:--
We are near the hollow rock on the Mouse River. The buffalo went away across the Missouri, and our powder and shot are gone. We are starving. Good-bye, if I don't see you again.
MAGASKAWEE.
The girl entrusted this little note to her grandmother, and she in turn gave it to the messenger. But he, as we know, was unable to deliver it.
"Angus, tell the boys to bury the poor fel- low to-morrow. I dare say he brought us some news from White Lodge, but we have got to go to the happy hunting-grounds to get it, or wait till the exile band returns in the spring. Evidently," continued McLeod, "he fell sick on the way: or else he was starving!"This last suggestion horrified Angus. "I believe, father," he exclaimed, "that we ought to examine his bundle."A small oblong packet was brought forth from the dead man's belt and carefully un- rolled.
There were several pairs of moccasins, and within one of these Angus found something wrapped up nicely. He proceeded to unwind the long strings of deerskin with which it was securely tied, and brought forth a thin sheet of birch-bark. At first, there seemed to be noth- ing more, but a closer scrutiny revealed the im- pression of the awl, and the bit of nature's parchment was brought nearer to his face, and scanned with a zeal equal to that of any student of ancient hieroglyphics.
"This tells the whole story, father!" ex- claimed the young man at last. "Magaska- wee's note--just listen!" and he read it aloud. "I shall start to- morrow. We can take enough provision and ammunition on two sleds, with six dogs to each. I shall want three good men to go with me." Angus spoke with deci- sion.
"Well, we can't afford to lose our best hunt- ers; and you might also bring home with you what furs and robes they have on hand," was his father's prudent reply.
"I don't care particularly for the skins," Angus declared; but he at once began hurried preparations for departure.
In the meantime affairs grew daily more desperate in the exile village on the far-away Mouse River, and a sort of Indian hopelessness and resignation settled down upon the little community. There were few who really ex- pected their messenger to reach the fort, or be- lieved that even if he did so, relief would be sent in time to save them. White Lodge, the father of his people, was determined to share with them the last mouthful of food, and every morning Winona and Magaskawee went with scanty portions in their hands to those whose supply had entirely failed.
On the outskirts of the camp there dwelt an old woman with an orphan grandchild, who had been denying herself for some time in order that the child might live longer. This poor teepee the girls visited often, and one on each side they raised the exhausted woman and poured into her mouth the warm broth they had brought with them.
It was on the very day Face-the-Wind reached Fort Ellis that a young hunter who had ventured further from the camp than any one else had the luck to bring down a solitary deer with his bow and arrow. In his weakness he had reached camp very late, bearing the deer with the utmost difficulty upon his shoulders. It was instantly separated into as many pieces as there were lodges of the famishing Sioux. These delicious morsels were hastily cooked and eagerly devoured, but among so many there was scarcely more than a mouthful to the share of each, and the brave youth himself did not receive enough to appease in the least his crav- ing!
