The Albany register. [volume] (Albany, Or.) 1868-18??, 1870-10-08

impart. And as the young ofhcer looked
upon the fair form of his youthful prls
oner-her delicate foot and ankle, bound
| in a moccasin of the wild deerskin fan
cifully trimmed with beads, peerlng from
beneath her native costume-her slender
and tapering fingers, as she twIned the
wild flowers in her hair, which fell IN
dark clusters over her neck and bosom,
revealing more fully the voluptuous love
illness it in vain attempted to conceal
the crimson flush that mingled with the
olive upon her cheek-her well-formed
mouth, her dark eye, aud expansive fore
head he resolved that, regardless of
consequence, heneeforth she should be
his own.
The kind treatment and devoted atten-
ton of Col. Williston soon gained the
confidence and artless affections of the
Forest Flower. Time few on, and the
intimacy of the lovers increased, and
their affection strengthened, until they
were happy only in each others society
Orders at length came for the regiment
under Col. Williston to repair, without
delay, to Lake Erie, to join the American
forces in that quarter in defense of the
western frontier A wild unsettled coun-
try was to be traversed and preparations
were Immediately made for marching.
But what was to be done with the afh
anced bride? 1t was finally resolved that
she should accompany the expedition
and ample arrangements were accordingly
made for her accommodation.
/ The Indian maiden knew that the line
of march would be through the hunting
grounds of her native tribe. This gave
her much uneasiness; as she well knew
that, if her father should become ac-
qua;uted with the approach of the whites
in time to summon his warriors, despe-
rate encounter would ensue. And even
could a hostile collision be avoided, she
dreaded to risk meeting with her faith
er; for, while filial love and duty urged
her to fly to, and embrace him, she knew
p. the tidings of her intended union with
the ''paIe face" had reached his ears !;
and she could not encounter his anger.
She, however, remained silent, and held
/ frequent and devout communication with
the 'tGreat Spirit" that all might be
we'll.
Four days had Col Williston and his
regiment prosecuted their fatiguing
march. On the morning of the fifth they
approached the Genesee Valley near the
! point have before described. The labor
of fordIng the river lad scarcely been ac
complished, and the ranks begun to form
on the opposite shore, when the terrific
war-cry Of the savage, mingled with the
sharp report Of thousand rifles, broke
! forth from the surrounding underwood.
/ \ moment more, and every leaf in the
forest appeared to glitter with the un-
sheathed knife and deadly tomahawk.
! Short was the conflict, but terrible the
carnage. The Indians fought with un-
usual desperation while in the thickest
of the combat, and towering above all
others, was seen the stalwart foim of
Wa-ke-ko, urging on his companions and
dealing slaughter around at every blow.
The whites recovered from the cenfus-
sion occasioned by the suddenness of the
attack, and rallied to the charge with be-
coming spirit. But they were soon over
powered by superior numbers, and the
most of them cut to pieces upon the
ground some making their escape by
fleeing to the thickets, some by swim
ming the river, and others being swept
away and drowned in making the attempt.
Col Williston was among the first that
fell His skull was cleft in sunder by
blow from the hand of the infuriated
chief. He was found by party of hum
ters ON the following day, still alive, and
carried to the nearest settlement, where,
by the greatest care and attention, he
finally recovered.
After the battle, Wa ke>ko and his
warriors retired to an emipenee short
distance farther up the river, where
council was Immediately convened be-
meath the branches of an, immense oak.
Each warrior had assumed his place
every eye was fixed upon the same OBJ
ject; and silenee-iRtense silence
reigEed for a moment, when Wake ko
rose up In the midst of his assembled
braves, and thus addressed them -
brothers, hear my voice. / speak to
you for the last time. My tongue cam
not tell how much my heart thanks you.
The enemy came and burned my wig
wan, and carried away my daughter-all
for which | cared to live. l teld you my
/ wrongs. You joined me to be avenged
When | pointed to the enemy, you knew
no fear. Pale faces know how to be cow
ards. l shall lead you no more to battle.
shall soon go to the land of the Great
Spirit, and spread my blanket and build
my wigwam beyond the great waters,
Were there is no more sundown. The
pale-face cannot come there, and there
will be no more war. When the next
hunting season returns, l shall be away
the new moon will not shine on me. L
cannot live here, for the white man hath
stolen my treasure-the Wild Flower is
dead, and will not bloom again. Brothers,
hear my voice. know my people are
weak. but this tree shall not wither till
they are strong again Talk often with
the Great Spirit when | am away am
going Brothers, farewellr
The voice of the chief ceased, and all
was again silent. His form was still erect,
with one hand extended against the tree,
and the other elevated toward the west,
in beckoning attitude.
The quick eye of the Indian soon dis
covered the truth. The spirit of the no.
BILE chief had departed. And yet, though
cold in death, he stood erect, with all the
apparent dignity of his nature and his