Oowikapun by Egerton Ryerson Young

Author:Egerton Ryerson Young [Young, Egerton Ryerson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Native American Studies, Social Science, General, Religion, Ethnic Studies, Native American, History
ISBN: 9780554398648
Publisher: BiblioLife
Published: 2008-08-14T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN. A MORTAL WOUND.

The summer following the visit of Oowikapun, Kistayimoowin had taken his wife and his niece and gone out to an island in one of the large lakes to hunt and fish. Theirs was the only wigwam on that island that summer. While out in a small canoe on the lake one day shooting ducks, his gun, which was an old flintlock, unfortunately burst, and, not only severely wounded him, but caused him to upset the canoe while out about half a mile from the shore. His wife and Astumastao heard his wild whoop of danger, and quickly realised the sad position he was in. Unfortunately they had no other canoe and no friendly helper was within range of their voices. Astumastao, however, like all Indian girls, could swim like a duck; and so without hesitancy she sprang into the lake and as rapidly as possible swam out to the rescue of her wounded uncle, who sorely needed her assistance. The explosion of the gun had nearly blown off one of his hands, and some pieces of the barrel had entered into his body. The result was that he was very helpless and weak from the loss of blood.

Astumastao reached him as soon as possible, and finding it impossible to right the canoe, she succeeded in tying a deerskin thong around the wounded wrist, and then resolved to try to swim with him to the shore. It was a desperate undertaking, but she knew just what to do to succeed, if it were possible. The wounded man could do nothing to help himself, so she placed him so that he could put his unwounded hand upon her back, and thus keep afloat, then she bravely struck out for the distant shore.

Only those who have tried to rescue a helpless person in the water can have any correct idea of the fearful task she had to perform; but buoyed up by hope and her naturally brave, true heart, she persevered, and, although at times almost exhausted, she succeeded in reaching the shallow water, out into which her feeble aunt had ventured to come to assist her. As well as they could, they helped or carried the almost exhausted man to the wigwam, and immediately made use of every means at their disposal to stop the wounds from which his life's blood seemed to be ebbing away.

The poor man was no sooner laid on his bed, weak and exhausted, than he turned his eyes toward Astumastao and startled her, although he spoke in a voice that was little above a whisper.

What he said was, “Nikumootah!” (“Sing!”)

Astumastao hesitated not; but choking back her emotions she began in sweet and soothing notes the song we have already heard her sing:

“Jesus, my all, to heaven is gone,

He whom I fix my hopes upon;

His track I see, and I'll pursue

The narrow way, till him I view.”

When she had sung two or three verses the sick man said, “Who is this Jesus?”

Not much was

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