Hardscrabble; or, the fall of Chicago. a tale of Indian warfare by John Richardson


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Page 76

"On his promptly saying that he would, I added that the
men of his party should be made acquainted with my wish,
and asked if I might depend upon their secrecy. He replied
that there was not a man among them who did not so love
Miss Heywood, as to run the risk of any punishment, rather
than utter one word that could be the means of giving
her pain, and that while on the way down he would take
care to warn them.

"Elmsley, I was touched at this--almost to tears--for it
was a source of proud yet tender pleasure to me--much
more so than I can express--to know that Maria was so
great a favorite with these rude-hearted fellows. Assured
that every thing was right, I told the corporal to embark
his men immediately, and pull for the Fort, while I, with
Waunangee and his Indians proceeded by land with the body
of Mr. Heywood.

"'Don't you think, sir,' said the corporal, hesitatingly,
as he prepared to execute my orders--'don't you think it
would be well for the ladies' sake that they should not
be reminded of the name of this place, more than can be
helped?'

"'Undoubtedly, Nixon, but what do you mean?'

"'Why, sir, I mean that as poor Mr. Heywood never can be
here again, it would be better nothing should be left to
remind them of the bloody doings of yesterday.'

"'And what other name would you give it?' I asked.

"'If it was left to me, Mr. Ronayne,' replied the corporal;
'I would call it HARDSCRABBLE, on account of the hard
struggle the fellows must have had with Mr. Heywood,
judging from his wounds and his broken rifle, before they
mastered him.'

"'Then, HARDSCRABBLE be it,' I said, 'not that I can
really see it will make much difference in calling the
thing to mind, yet it would scarcely be fair to deny to
you, who have so bravely defended the place, the privilege
of giving it a new name, if the old one is to be abandoned.'

"'Thank you, sir,' returned Nixon, 'but if you hadn't
come to our assistance, I don't know what the upshot
might have been, I suspect that fellow whose comrade you
killed, sent them off sooner than they intended.'

"'No more of that, Nixon--and now do you remember what
you are to say when you get back to the Fort?'

"'I do, sir, and every man shall be told to say as I
do--but about the new name, Mr. Ronayne,' he pursued,
returning, after he had gone a few paces, 'do you think,
sir, Mrs. Heywood will consent to it?'

"'My good fellow,' I answered, 'recollect that Mrs.
Heywood must know nothing about it--at least for the
present. I will settle all that later. In the mean time,
as you have called it HARDSCRABBLE, so let it remain.'

"And HARDSCRABBLE that scene of blood is called to this
hour.

"I had at first apprehended," pursued Ronayne, "that the
Indians would evince disinclination to carry the body so
long a distance, or even at all, but on Waunangee explaining
my desire, they all to my surprise, expressed even eagerness
to meet my wishes, for, as he assured me, the young men
looked upon me as a great warrior who had achieved a deed
of heroism that might procure the distinction of a chief,
and entitling me to their services in all things.

"I certainly thought my honors cheaply enough purchased;
however I was but too glad to appropriate to myself the
respect and good-will which the killing of the Winnebago
had entailed--and matters were soon arranged.

"The body having been removed outside, and the doors
secured as well as, under the circumstances, could be
done, one of the warriors cut from a tree in the adjacent
wood, a semi-circular piece of tough and flexible bark,
about six feet in length, and in the hollow of this, the
murdered father of Maria Heywood, already swathed tightly
in a blanket, was placed. A long pole was then passed
through the equi-distant loops of cord that encircled
the whole, and two of the Indians having, with the
assistance of their companions, raised it upon their
shoulders, it was thus borne--the parties being relieved
at intervals--over the two long miles of road that led
to the skirt of the woods near the encampment. Here the
body of Indians stopped, while Waunangee and myself
repaired to the tent of his father, who no sooner had
heard detailed by his son the account of my Winnebago
killing practice of the preceding evening, than he
overwhelmed me with congratulations, and looked proudly
on the knife, still stained with a spot or two of blood,
which I returned to him, and which he restored to its
usual resting-place on his hip.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Wed 11th Feb 2026, 13:52