A TALE OF NEGRO LIFE IN THE SOUTH AND SOUTHWEST.
PAULINE E. HOPKINS.
Copyright, 1902, by Pauline E. Hopkins.
Crossing the Niagara river in a direct line, the Canadian shore liesnot more than eight miles from Buffalo, New York, and in the early 50’ssmall bands of Indians were still familiar figures on both the Americanand Canadian borders. Many strange tales of romantic happenings in thismixed community of Anglo-Saxons, Indians and Negroes might be toldsimilar to the one I am about to relate, and the world stand aghast andtry in vain to find the dividing line supposed to be a natural barrierbetween the whites and the dark-skinned race. No; social intercoursemay be long in coming, but its advent is sure; the mischief is alreadydone.
From 1842, the aborigines began to scatter. They gave up the last oftheir great reservations then before the on-sweeping Anglo-Saxon,moving toward the setting sun in the pasture lands surrounding theBlack Hills.
Of those who remained many embraced Christianity; their children weresent to the pale-face schools; they themselves became tillers ofthe soil, adopting with their agricultural pursuits all the arts ofcivilized life, and cultivating the friendship of the white populationabout them. They, however, still clung to their tribal dress ofbuckskin, beads, feathers, blankets and moccasins, thereby addingpicturesqueness of detail to the moving crowds that thronged the busystreets of the lively American city. Nor were all who wore the tribaldress Indians. Here and there a blue eye gleamed or a glint of gold inthe long hair falling about the shoulders told of other nationalitieswho had linked their fortunes with the aborigines. Many white menhad been adopted into the various tribes because of their superiorknowledge, and who, for reasons best known to themselves, sought toconceal their identity in the safe shelter of the wigwam. Thus it waswith White Eagle, who had linked his fortunes with the Seneca Indians.He had come among them when cholera was decimating their numbers at afearful rate. He knew much of medicine. Finally, he saved the life ofthe powerful chief Red Eagle, was adopted by the tribe, and ever afterreverenced as a mighty medicine man.
Yet, though Erie County urged the Indians farther West, and took uptheir reservations for white settlers, their thirst for power stoppedshort of the curtailment of human liberty. The free air of the landof the prairies was not polluted by the foul breath of slavery. Wefind but one account of slaves being brought into the country, andthey were soon freed. But the free Negro was seen mingling with othersettlers upon the streets, by their presence adding still more to thecosmopolitan character of the shifting panorama, for Buffalo was ananti-slavery stronghold,—the last and most convenient station of theunderground railroad.
It was late in the afternoon of a June day. It was uncommonly hot, theheat spoke of mid-summer, and was unusual in this country borderingupon the lakes.
On the sandy beach Indian squaws sat in the sun with their gaudyblankets wrapped about them in spite of the heat, watching the steamersupon the lakes, the constant traffic of the canal boats, their beadedwares spread temptingly upon the firm white sand to catch the fancyof the free-handed sailor or visitor. Upon the bosom of Lake Eriefloated a canoe. It had been stationary at different points along theshore for more than an hour. The occupants were fishing; presently thecanoe headed for an island lying close in the shadow of Grand Island,about a mile from it. The la