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Richardson, John, 1796-1852

"Hardscrabble; or, the fall of Chicago. a tale of Indian warfare"

He was becomingly dressed in deer
skin, richly embroidered, pliant and of a clear brown
that harmonized well with the snowy whiteness of his
linen shirt, which was fastened with silver brooches,
while on the equally decorated leggins, he wore around
the ankle, strings of minute brass bells. On his head
floated the rich plumage of various rare birds, but no
paint was visible beyond the slightest tint of vermilion
on the very top of each cheek-bone, rendering even more
striking the expression of his soft dark eyes.
Beckoning to him, Ronayne drew the young Indian within
the door, which had he not accidentally distinguished
him in the crowd, he was quite too modest to enter alone.
Then drawing his arm through his own, he led him, coloring
and embarrassed at the novelty of the scene, to the place
where Captain Headley was still lingering with his charge.
The moment they were near enough, the latter held out
her hand to Waunangee, and with all the warmth of her
generous nature, pressed that which he extended. The
young Indian colored more deeply even than before--his
hand trembled in hers--and the look of thankfulness which
he bent upon her, in return for this unmistakable
confidence, had all the touching melancholy of expression
which she had remarked in them at their first meeting.


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