CHAPTER V
THE MOHAWK CHIEF
The canoe was passing between low shores, and they landed on the left bank, lifting out of the water the little vessel that had served them so well, and carrying it to a point some distance in the bushes. There they sat down beside it a while and drew long, deep and panting breaths.
"I don't want to repeat that experience soon," said Robert. "I think every muscle and bone in me is aching."
"So do mine," said Willet, "but they ache in a good cause, and what's of more importance just now a successful one too. Having left no trail the Indians won't be able to follow us, and we can rest here a long time, which compels me to tell you again to put on your clothes and become respectable."
They were quite dry now, and they dressed. They also saw that their arms and ammunition were in order, and after Willet had scouted the country a bit, seeing that no human-being was near, they ate breakfast of the deer meat and felt thankful.
"The aches are leaving me," said Willet, "and in another half-hour I'll be the man I was yesterday. Not I'll be a better man. I've been in danger lots of times and always there's a wonderful feeling of happiness when I get out of it."
"That is, risk goes before real rest," said Robert.
"That's about the way to put it, and escaping as we've just done from a siege, this dawn is about the finest I've ever seen. Isn't that a big and glorious sun over there? I suppose it's the same sun I've been looking at for years, but it seems to me that it has a new and uncommonly splendid coat of gilding this morning."
"I think it was put on to celebrate our successful flight," said Robert. "It's not only a splendid sun, Dave, but it's an uncommonly friendly one too. I can look it squarely in the eye for just a second and it fairly beams on me."
"My brothers are right," said Tayoga gravely. "If it had not been the will of Manitou for us to escape from the trap that had been set for us the sun rising newly behind the mountains would not smile upon us."
"I take that as allegorical," said Robert. "We see with our souls, and our eyes are merely the mirrors through which we look. Seeing, or at least the color of it, is a state of mind."
Tayoga followed him perfectly and nodded.
"You are getting too deep," interrupted the hunter. "Let's be satisfied with our escape. Here, each of you take another piece of venison. I'm glad you still have your bow and arrows, Tayoga, because it won't be long before we'll have to begin looking for another deer."
"The woods swarm with game. It will not be difficult to find one," said
Tayoga.
"But for the present I think we'd better lie close. Of course the chief danger of attack from those savages has passed, but we're some distance from Canada, and it's still doubtful ground. Another wandering band may run upon us and that Ojibway, Tandakora, will never quit hunting us, until a bullet stops him. He has a terrible attack of the scalp fever. We want to make good time on our journey, but we mustn't spoil everything by trying to go too fast."
"It might be wise for us to remain the entire day in the forest," replied the Onondaga. "After the great and long trial of our strength last night, we need much rest. And tonight we can make speed on the river again. What says Lennox?"
"I'm for it," replied Robert, "but I suggest that we go deeper into the forest, taking the canoe with us, and hide our trail. I think I see the gleam of water to our right and if I'm correct it means a brook, up which we can walk carrying the canoe with us."
"A good idea, Robert," said Willet. "Suppose you look first and see if it's really a brook."
The lad returned in a moment or two with a verification. The water of the little stream was clear, but it had a fine sandy bottom on which footprints were effaced in a few seconds. They waded up it nearly a mile until they came to stony ground, when they left the brook and walked on the outcrop or detached stones a considerable distance, passing at last through dense thickets into a tiny open space. They put the canoe down in the center of the opening, which was circular, and stretched their own bodies on the grass close to the bushes, through which they could see without being seen.
"That trail is well hidden," said Willet, "or rather it's no trail at all. It's just about as much trace as a bird leaves, flying through the air."
"Do you know where we are, Dave?" asked Robert.
"We're not so far from the edge of the wilderness. Before long the land will begin to slope down toward the St. Lawrence. But it's all wild enough. The French settlements themselves don't go very far back from the big river. And the St. Lawrence is a mighty stream, Robert. I reckon there's not another such river on the globe. The Mississippi I suppose is longer, and carries more volume to the sea, but the St. Lawrence is full of clear water, Robert, think of that! Most all the other big rivers of the world, I hear, are muddy and yellow, but the St. Lawrence, being the overflow of the big lakes, is pure. Sometimes it's blue and sometimes it's green, according to the sunlight or the lack of it, and sometimes it's another color, but always it's good, fresh water, flowing between mighty banks to the sea, the stream getting deeper and deeper and broader and broader the farther it goes, till beyond Quebec it's five and then ten miles across, and near the ocean it's nigh as wide as Erie or Ontario. I'm always betting on the St. Lawrence, Robert. I haven't been on all the other continents, but I don't believe they can show anything to beat it."
"Have you seen much of the big lakes, Dave?"
"A lot of Erie and Ontario, but not so much of those farther west, Michigan, Huron and Superior, although they're far bigger and grander. Nothing like 'em in the lake line in this world. We don't know much about Superior, but I gather from the Indians that it's nigh to four hundred miles long, and maybe a hundred and fifty miles across in the middle. What a power of water! That's not a lake! It's a fresh-water sea. I've seen Niagara, too, Robert, where the river comes tumbling over two mighty cliffs, and the foam rises up to the sky, and the rainbow is always arching over the chasm below. It's a tremendous sight and it keeps growing on you the longer you look at it. The Indians, who like myths and allegories, have a fine story about it. They say that Heno, to whom Manitou gave charge of the thunderbolt, once lived in the great cave or hollow behind the falls, liking the damp and the eternal roar of the waters. And Manitou to help him keep a watch over all the thunderbolts gave him three assistants who have never been named. Now, the nations of the Hodenosaunee call themselves the grandchildren of Heno, and when they make invocation to him they call him grandfather. But they hold that Heno is always under the direction of Hawenneyu, the Great Spirit, who I take it is the same in their minds as Manitou. The more you learn of the Indians, and especially of the Hodenosaunee, Robert, the more you admire the beauty and power of their minds."
Willet spoke with great earnestness, his own mind through the experiences of many years being steeped in forest lore and imagery. Robert, although he knew less of Indian mythology, nevertheless knew enough to feel for it a great admiration.
"I studied the myths of the Greeks and Romans at Albany," he said, "and
I don't see that they were very much superior to those of the Indians."
"Maybe they weren't superior at all," said Willet, "and I don't believe the Greeks and Romans ever had a country like the one in which we are roaming. The Book says God made the world in six days, and I think He must have spent one whole day, and His best day, too, on the country in here. Think of the St Lawrence, and all the big lakes and middle-sized lakes and little lakes, and the Hudson and the other splendid rivers, and the fine mountains east of the Hudson and west of it, and all the grand valleys, and the great country of the Hodenosaunee, and the gorgeous green forest running hundreds and hundreds of miles, every way! I tell you, Robert—and it's no sacrilege either—after He did such a splendid and well-nigh perfect job He could stop for the night and call it a good and full day's work. I reckon that nowhere else on the earth's surface are so many fine and wonderful things crowded into one region."
He took a deep breath and gazed with responsive eyes at the dim blue crests of the mountains.
"It's all that you call it," said Robert, whose soul was filled with the same love and admiration, "and I'm glad I was born within its limits. I've noticed, Dave, that the people of old lands think they alone have love of country. New people may love a new land just as much, and I love all this country about us, the lakes, and the rivers, and the mountains and the valleys and the forests."
He flung out his arms in a wide, embracing gesture, and he, too, took deep long breaths of the crisp air that came over the clean forest. Tayoga smiled, and the smile was fathomless.
"I, Tayoga, of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee, can rejoice more than either of you, my white friends," he said, "because I and my fathers for ages before me were born into this wonderful country of which you speak so well, but not too well, and much of it belongs to the Hodenosaunee. The English and the French are but of yesterday. Tododaho lighted the first council fire in the vale of Onondaga many generations before either came across the sea."
"It's true, Tayoga," said Willet, "and I don't forget it for a moment. All of us white people, English, French, Dutch, Germans and all other breeds, are mere newcomers, and I'm not one ever to deny the rights of the Hodenosaunee."
"I know that the Great Bear is always our friend," said the young
Onondaga, "and Lennox too, no less."
"I am, Tayoga," said Robert fervently.
The white lad went to sleep by and by, the others to follow in their turn, and when he woke it was afternoon. About midway of his comrade's nap Tayoga had gone to sleep also, and now Willet followed him, leaving Robert alone on guard.
His eyes could pierce the bushes, and for some distance beyond, and he saw that no intruder had drawn near. Nor had he expected any. The place was too remote and well hidden, and the keenest warriors in the world could not follow a vanished trail.
He ate two or three strips of the deer meat, walked around the complete circle of the opening, examining the approaches from every side, and having satisfied himself once more that no stranger was near, returned to his place on the grass near his comrades, full of the great peace that can come only to those of sensitive mind and lofty imagination. His sleep had rested him thoroughly. The overtaxed muscles were easy again, and with the vast green forest about him and the dim blue mountains showing on the horizon, he felt all the keen zest of living.
He was glad to be there. He was glad to be with Tayoga. He was glad to be with Willet and he was glad to be going on the important mission which the three hoped to carry out, according to promise, no matter what dangers surrounded them, and that there would be many they already had proof. But, for the present, at least, there was nothing but peace.
He lay on his back and stared up at the blue sky, in which clouds fleecy and tiny were drifting. All were going toward the northeast and that way the course of himself and his comrades lay. If Manitou prospered them, they would come to the Quebec of the French, which beforetime had been the Stadacona of old Indian tribes. That name, Quebec, was full of significance to him. Standing upon its mighty rock, it was another Gibraltar. It told him of the French power in North America, and he associated it vaguely with young officers in brilliant uniforms, powdered ladies, and all the splendor of an Old World court reproduced in the New World. St. Luc had come from there, and with his handsome face and figure and his gay and graceful manner he had typified the Quebec of the chevaliers, which the grave and solid burghers of Albany regarded with dread and aversion and yet with a strange sort of attraction.
He did not deny to himself that he too felt the attraction. An unknown kinship with Quebec, either in blood or imagination, was calling. He wondered if he would see St. Luc there, but on reflection he decided that it was impossible. The mission of the chevalier to the Hodenosaunee would require a long absence. He might arrive in the vale of Onondaga and have to wait many days before the fifty sachems should decide to meet in council and hear him.
But Robert believed that if St. Luc should appear before the fifty he would prove to be eloquent, and he would neglect no artifice of word and manner to make the Hodenosaunee think the French power at Quebec invincible. He would describe the great deeds of the French officers and soldiers. He would tell them of that glittering court of Versailles, and perhaps he would make them think their salvation depended upon an alliance with France.
Robert was sorry for the moment that his mission was taking him to Quebec and not to the vale of Onondaga, where Willet and he—and Tayoga too—could appear before the sachems as friends true and tested, and prove to them that the English were their good and natural allies. They would recall again what Frontenac had done. They would dwell upon the manner in which he had carried sword and fire among the Six Nations, then the Five, and they would keep open the old wound that yet rankled.
It was a passing wish. The Iroquois would remain faithful to their ancient allies, the English. The blood that Frontenac had shed would be forever a barrier between the Long House and the Stadacona that was. Once more Quebec filled his eye, and he gazed into the northeast where the French capital lay upon its mighty and frowning rock. His curiosity concerning it increased. He wanted to see what kind of city it was, and he wanted to see what kind of a man the Marquis Duquesne, the Governor-General of Canada, was. Well, he would be there before many days and he would see for himself. He and his comrades already had been triumphant over a danger so great that nothing could stop them now. He felt all the elation and certainty that came from a victory over odds.
He rose, parted the bushes and made another tour of the region about their covert. When he was at a point about a hundred yards away he fancied that he heard a sound in a thicket a considerable distance ahead. Promptly taking shelter behind a large tree, he used both eyes and ears, watching the thicket closely, and listening for any other sound that might come.
He heard nothing else but his keen eyes noted a bush swaying directly into the teeth of the wind, a movement that could not occur unless something alive in the thicket caused it. He slid his rifle forward and still watched. Now the bush shook violently, and an awkward black figure, shooting out, ran across the open. It was only a bear, and he was about to resume his circling walk, but second thought told him that the bear was running as if he ran away from an object of which he was afraid, and there was nothing in the northern forests except human beings to scare a bear.
He settled back in his shelter and resumed his watch in the thicket, leaving the bear to run where he pleased, which he did, disappearing with a snort in another thicket. A full ten minutes passed. Robert had not stirred. He was crouched behind the tree, blending with the grass, and he held his rifle ready to be fired in an instant, should the need arise.
The bush that had moved against the wind had ceased stirring long since, but now he saw another shaking and it, too, paid no attention to the laws of nature, defying the wind as the first had done. Robert concentrated his gaze upon it, thankful that he had not made the black bear the original cause of things, and presently he saw the feathered head of an Indian appear among the leaves. It was only a glimpse, he did not see the body or even the face of the warrior, but it was enough. Where one warrior was another was likely to be in those northern marches, the most dangerous kind of neutral ground.
He began to slide away, keeping the big tree trunk between him and the thicket, using all the arts of the forest trailer that he had learned by natural aptitude and long practice. He went back slowly, but the grass stems moved only a little as he went, and he was confident that he not only had not been seen, but would not be seen. Yet he scarcely dared to breathe—until he reached the bushes inclosing the opening in which his comrades lay.
He paused a few moments before waking the others and filled his lungs with air. He was surprised to find that the hands holding his rifle were damp with perspiration, and he realized then how great the brief strain had been. Suppose he had not seen the Indian in the bush, and had been ambushed while on his scouting round! Or suppose he had stayed with his comrades and had been ambushed there! But neither had happened, and, taking Willet by the shoulder, he shook him, at the same time whispering in his ear to make no noise. The hunter, his trained faculties at once awake and on guard, sat up quietly, and Tayoga, who seemed to awake instinctively at the same time, also, sat up.
"What is it, Robert?" whispered Willet.
"An Indian in the bush about two hundred yards away," replied the youth. "I merely saw his hair and the feather in it, but it's safe to assume that he's not the only one."
"That is so," said Tayoga. "A warrior does not come here alone."
"It can't be the band we beat off when we were in the hollow," said Willet confidently. "They must be far south of us, even if they haven't given up the chase."
"It is so, Great Bear," said Tayoga. "Was the warrior's head bare,
Lennox, or did he have the headdress, gustoweh, like mine?"
"I think," replied Robert, "that the feather projected something like yours, perhaps from a cross-splint."
"Could you tell from what bird the feather came?"
"Yes, I saw that much. It was the plume of an eagle."
Tayoga mused a moment or two. Then he put two fingers to his mouth and blew between them a mellow, peculiar whistle, much like the notes of a deep-throated forest bird. He waited half a minute and a reply exactly similar came.
"These," said Tayoga, "are our people," and rising and parting the bushes, he walked, upright and fearless, toward the thicket in which Robert had seen the warrior. Robert and Willet, influenced by boldness as people always are, followed him with confidence, their rifles not thrust forward, but lying in the hollows of their arms.
A dozen warriors issued from the thicket, at their head a tall man of middle age, open and noble in countenance and dignified in bearing.
"These be Mohawks, Ganeagaono, the Keepers of the Eastern Gate," said
Tayoga, "and the sachem Dayohogo, which in English means, At the Forks,
leads them. He is a great man, valiant in battle and wise in council.
His words have great weight when the fifty sachems meet in the vale of
Onondaga to decide the questions of life and death."
He paused and bent his head respectfully before the man of superior age, and, as yet, of superior rank. A look of pleasure appeared upon the face of the Mohawk chief when he saw the young Onondaga.
"It is Tayoga of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onundagaono
(Onondaga)," he said.
"It is so, Dayohogo of the clan of the Wolf, of the nation Ganeagaono (Mohawk)," replied Tayoga. "Thou of the Keepers of the Eastern Gate and my father, Daatgadose, of the Keepers of the Council Fire, have been friends since they stood at the knees of their mothers, and we too are friends, Dayohogo."
"You speak true words, Tayoga," said the chief, looking with an
appraising eye upon the handsome face and athletic figure of the young
Onondaga. "And the white people with you? One I know to be the Great
Bear who calls himself Willet, but the boy I know not."
"His name is Lennox, O Dayohogo. He is the true friend of the Great Bear, of Tayoga and of the Hodenosaunee. He has within the last two days, standing beside us, fought a valiant battle against the Abenakis, the Hurons, the St. Regis and warriors of the other savage tribes that call themselves the allies of Onontio."
Robert felt the penetrating eye of the Mohawk chief upon him. But the gaze of the Indian was friendly, and while he felt admiration for Tayoga he felt equal approval of Lennox.
"You have fought against odds and you have come away safe," he said.
"None of us received any hurt," replied Tayoga, modestly, "but we slew more than one of those who attacked. It was in a gorge of the river far back, and we escaped in the night, swimming with our canoe. Now we rest here, and truly, Dayohogo, we are glad to see you and your warriors. The forest has become safe for us. We have part of a deer left, and we ask you to share it with us."
"Gladly," said Dayohogo. "We bring venison and corn meal, and we will have food together."
His warriors were stalwart men, armed well, and they had no fear of any foe, lighting a fire in the open, warming their deer meat and making bread of their corn meal. The three ate with them, and Robert felt that they were among friends. The Mohawks not only had Frontenac to remember, but further back Champlain, the French soldier and explorer, who had defeated them before they knew the use of firearms. He felt that Duquesne at Quebec would have great difficulty in overcoming the enmity of this warlike and powerful red nation, and he resolved to do what he could to keep them attached to the British cause. It might be only a little, but a little many times amounted to much.
Dayohogo and his warriors had been on a scout toward the north to the very borders of the French settlements, and the chief told the three that an unusual movement was going on there. Regular soldiers were expected soon from France. War belts and splendid presents had been sent to the tribes about the Great Lakes, both to the north and to the south, and Onontio was addressing messages of uncommon politeness to his brethren, the valiant Ganeagaono, otherwise the Mohawks, the Keepers of the Eastern Gate.
"And do the Mohawk chiefs listen to the words of Onontio?" asked Robert anxiously.
Dayohogo did not reply at once. He looked at the green woods. Birds, blue or gray or brown, were darting here and there in the foliage, and his eye rested for a moment on a tiny wren.
"The voice of Onontio is the voice of a bird chattering in a tree," he said. "In the day of my father's father's father the children of Onontio, under Champlain, came with guns, which were strange to us, and with presents they induced the Adirondack warriors to help them. They came up the great lake which the white people call Champlain, then they crossed to Ticonderoga, near the outlet of the lake, Saint Sacrement, and fell upon two hundred warriors of the Ganeagaono, who then knew only the bow and arrow and the war club, and slew many of them. It was four generations ago, but we do not forget. Then when my father was a young warrior Frontenac came with a host of white soldiers and the Canadian Indians and killed the warriors and laid waste with fire the lands of the Five Nations, now the Six. Can the Hodenosaunee forget?"
The chief gloomed into the fire, and his eyes flashed with the memory of ancient wrongs.
"Onontio has sent belts to the Ganeagaono also, has he not?" asked
Robert.
The eyes of the chief flashed again.
"He has tried to do so," he replied, "but the Ganeagaono are loyal to their brethren of the Hodenosaunee since Tododahoe first found the sacred wampum on the shore of the lake, Chautauqua. Our three clans, the Turtle, the Wolf and the Bear, met in our largest village south of the river, Ganeagaono (Mohawk), and listened to the bearers of the belts. Then we sent them back to Onontio, telling them if they wished to be heard further they must bring the belt to the council of all the sachems of the Hodenosaunee in the vale of Onondaga."
"The other nations of the Hodenosaunee," said Tayoga, "have always known that the Ganeagaono would do no less. The Keepers of the Eastern Gate have never departed by the width of a single hair from their obligations."
Dayohogo turned his gloomy face upon the Onondaga youth, and it was lighted up suddenly by a smile of appreciation and pleasure.
"Tayoga of the Onundagaono," he said in measured tones, "you have spoken well. The Onundagaono, the Keepers of the Council Fire, and the Ganeagaono, the Keepers of the Eastern Gate, be the first tribes of the Hodenosaunee, and better it be for a warrior of either to burn two days and two nights in the fire than to violate in the least the ancient customs and laws of the Hodenosaunee."
"Before we had the fight with the savage band," said Robert, "we met a Frenchman, the Chevalier Raymond Louis de St. Luc, who was going to the vale of Onondaga with belts from Onontio. St. Luc is a brave man, a great orator, and his words will fall, golden and sweet like honey, on the ears of the fifty chiefs. He will say that Champlain and Frontenac belonged to an ancient day, that the forests have turned green and then turned red a hundred and fifty times since Champlain and sixty times since Frontenac. He will say that what they did was due to a false wind that blew between the French and the Hodenosaunee, hiding the truth, and making friends see in the faces of friends the faces of enemies. He will say that a true wind blows now, and that it has blown away all the falsehoods. He will say that Onontio is a better friend than Corlear to the Hodenosaunee, and far more powerful."
The veteran Mohawk chief looked at young Lennox, and again his gaze was one of approval, also of comprehension.
"My young white friend is already a great warrior," he said. "What he did with Tayoga and the Great Bear proves it, but great as he is he is even greater in the council. The words of the son of Onontio, St. Luc, may drip from his lips like honey, but the speech of Lennox is the voice of the south wind singing among the reeds. Lennox will be a great orator among his people."
Robert blushed, and yet his heart was beating at the praise of Dayohogo, obviously so sincere. He felt with a sudden instinctive rush of conviction that the Mohawk was telling him the truth. It was an early and partial display of the liquid and powerful speech, which afterward gave him renown in New York and far beyond, and which caused people everywhere to call him the "Golden Mouthed." And he was always eager to acknowledge that much of its strength came from the lofty thought and brilliant imagery shown by many of the orators of the nations of the Hodenosaunee, with whom so much of his youth was spent.
"I only spoke the thought that was in my mind, Dayohogo," he said modestly.
"Wherein is the beginning of great speech," said the sachem sagely. "When Lennox returns from the journey on which he is now going it would be fit for him to go to the vale of Onondaga and meet St. Luc in debate before the fifty sachems."
Robert's heart leaped again. It was like a call to battle, and now he knew what his great aim in life should be. He would strive with study and practice to make himself first in it, but, for the present, he had other thoughts and purpose. Willet, however, took fire too from the words of the Mohawk chief.
"I've noticed before, Robert," he said, "that you had the gift of tongues, and we'll make a great orator of you. In times such as ours a man of that kind is needed bad. Maybe what Dayohogo thinks ought to be, will be, and you will yet oppose St. Luc before the fifty sachems in the vale of Onondaga."
"It would be well," said Dayohogo thoughtfully, "because the men at Albany still give the Hodenosaunee trouble, making a promise seem one thing when it is given, and another when the time to keep it comes."
"I know, Dayohogo!" exclaimed Willet, vehemently. "I know how those sleek traders who are appointed to deal with you cheat you out of your furs and try to cheat you out of your lands! But be patient a little longer, you who have been patient so long. Word has come from England that the King will remove his commissioners, and make Sir William Johnson his Indian agent for all North America."
The eyes of Dayohogo and his warriors glistened.
"Is it true?" he asked. "Is Waraiyageh (Johnson) to be the one who will talk with us and make the treaties with us?"
"I know it to be a fact, Dayohogo."
"Then it is well. We can trust Waraiyageh, and he knows that he can trust us. Where our trail runs to Kolaneha (Johnstown) on a hill not far from our tower castle he has built a great house, and I and my brother chiefs of all the three clans the Wolf, the Bear and the Turtle, have been there and have received presents from him. He is the friend of the Ganeagaono, and he knew that he could build a house among us and live there in peace, with our warriors to guard him."
The news that Johnson would be the King's Indian agent had an electric effect upon the Mohawks. Whether he talked English or Iroquois he talked a language they understood, and his acts were comprehensible by them. He had their faith and he never lost it.
Some of the hunters went out, and, the woods being full of game, they quickly shot another deer. Then the warriors still feeling in their strength that they had nothing to dread from enemies, built high the fire, cut up the deer, cooked it and made a great feast. The good feeling that existed between the Mohawks and the two whites increased. Robert unconsciously began to exercise his gift of golden speech. He dwelt upon the coming appointment of Waraiyageh, their best friend, to deal in behalf of the King with the Hodenosaunee, and he harped continually upon Champlain and Frontenac. He made them seem to be of yesterday, instead of long ago. He opened the old wounds the Mohawks had received at the hands of the French and made them sting and burn again. He dwelt upon the faith of the English, their respect for the lands of the Hodenosaunee and the ancient friendship with the Six Nations. He had forgotten the words of Dayohogo that he would be a great orator, but five minutes after they were spoken he was justifying them.
Tayoga and Willet glanced at each other, but remained silent. Young Lennox was saying enough for all three. Dayohogo did not take his eyes from the speaker, following all his words, and the warriors, lying on their elbows, watched him and believed what he said. When he stopped the chief and all the warriors together uttered a deep exclamation of approval.
"You are called Lennox," said Dayohogo, "and after the white custom it is the only name that you have ever had, but we have a better way. When a warrior distinguishes himself greatly we give him a new name, which tells what he has done. Hereafter, Lennox, you will be known to the Ganeagaono as Dagaeoga, which is the name of a great chief of the clan of the Turtle, of our nation."
"I thank you much, Dahoyogo," said Robert, earnestly, knowing that a high honor was conferred upon him. "I shall try to deserve in some small way the great name you have conferred upon me."
"One can but do his best," said the Mohawk gravely.
But Willet rejoiced openly in the distinction that had been bestowed upon his young comrade, saying that some day it might be carried out with formal ceremonies by the Mohawk nation, and was a fact of great value. To be by adoption a son of any nation of the Hodenosaunee would be of enormous assistance to him, if he negotiated with the League in behalf of the English colonists. But to be adopted by both Onondagas and Mohawks gave him a double power.
Robert had already been influenced powerfully by Tayoga, the young Onondaga, and now the words of Dayohogo, the Mohawk, carried that influence yet further. He understood as few white men did the power of the Hodenosaunee and how its nations might be a deciding factor in the coming war between French and English, just as he understood long after that war was over their enormous weight in the new war between the Americans and English, and he formed a resolution as firm as tempered steel that his main effort for many years to come should be devoted to strengthening the ties that connected the people of New York and the great League.
The afternoon went on in pleasant talk. The Indians, among themselves or with those whom they knew from long experience to be good friends, were not taciturn. Robert told the Mohawks that they were going to Quebec, and Dayohogo expressed curiosity.
"It is the story in our nation, and it is true," he said, "that generations ago we held the great rock of Stadacona, and that the first Frenchman, Cartier, who came to Canada, found us there, and drove us away with firearms, which we had never seen before, and which we did not know how to meet. It is said also by our old men that we had a town with palisades around it at Hochelaga (Montreal), but whether it is true or not I do not know. It may be that it was a town of the Wanedote (Hurons), our enemies. And yet the Wanedote are of our blood, though far back in the past we split asunder, and now they take the peace belts of the French, while we take those of the English."
"And the capital of the French, which they call Quebec, and which you call Stadacona, stands on land which really belongs to the Mohawks," said Robert meaningly.
Dayohogo made no answer, but gloomed into the fire again. After a while he said that his warriors and he must depart. They were going toward Ticonderoga, where the French had built the fort, Carillon, within the territory of the Mohawks. He had been glad to meet Tayoga, the Great Bear, and the new young white chief, Dagaeoga, whose speech was like the flowing of pleasant waters. It was a favoring wind that had brought them together, because they had enjoyed good talk, and had exchanged wise counsel with one another. Robert agreed with him in flowery allegory and took from the canoe where it had been stored among their other goods a present for the chief—envoys seldom traveled through the Indian country without some such article for some such occasion.
It was gajewa, a war club, beautifully carved and polished, made of ironwood about three feet long, and with tufts of brilliant feathers at either end. Inserted at one end was a deer's horn, about five inches in length, and as sharp as a razor. While it was called a war club, it was thus more of a battle ax, and at close range and wielded by a powerful arm it was a deadly weapon. It had been made at Albany, and in order to render it more attractive three silver bands had been placed about it at equal intervals.
It was at once a weapon and a decoration, and the eyes of Dayohogo glistened as he received it.
"I take the gift, Dagaeoga," he said, "and I will not forget."
Then they exchanged salutations, and the Mohawks disappeared silently in the forest.
CHAPTER VI
THE TWO FRENCHMEN
When the three were left alone in the glade the hunter turned to young
Lennox.
"You've done good work today, Robert," he said. "I didn't know you had in you the makings of an orator and diplomatist. The governor of New York did better than he knew when he chose you for one of this mission."
Robert blushed again at praise and modestly protested.
"Lennox has found that for which he is best fitted," said Tayoga, slyly.
"If I'm to talk without end I'll do my best," said Robert, laughing, "and I suggest that we resume our journey now. There doesn't appear to be any further danger from the Indians who besieged us."
"You're right about it, Robert," said the hunter. "The coming of the Mohawks has put a barrier between us and them. I've an idea that Dayohogo and his warriors won't go far toward Ticonderoga, but will soon turn south to meet those savages and acquire a few scalps if they can, and if they do meet 'em I hope they'll remove that Ojibway, Tandakora, who I think is likely to make us a lot of trouble."
Willet never spoke of the Iroquois as "savages," but he often applied the term to the Canadian and Western Indians. Like Robert, he regarded those who had built up the great political and military power of the Hodenosaunee as advanced, and, in a sense, civilized nations.
"I think my friend, the Great Bear, is right," said Tayoga. "Unless
Tandakora and his band have gone toward the west it is likely that
Dayohogo will meet them, and they cannot stand before the Mohawks."
"I think it more probable," said Robert, "that after the failure to destroy us Tandakora went back to St. Luc, giving a false explanation of his absence or none at all, just as he pleased."
"It may be so," said Tayoga, "but I have another opinion."
While they talked they were taking the canoe from its shelter, and then they bore it down to the river again, putting it back into the stream and listening with pleasure to the gurgle of the water by its sides.
"Paddling isn't the easiest work in the world," said Willet with satisfaction, "but when you're used to it your muscles can stand it a long time, and it's far ahead of walking. Now, ho for Canada!"
"Ho for Canada!" said Robert, and the three paddles flashed again in the clear water. The canoe once more became a live thing and shot down the stream. They were still in the wilderness, racing between solid banks of green forest, and they frequently saw deer and bear drinking at the edge of the river, while the foliage was vivid with color, and musical with the voices of singing birds.
Robert had a great elation and he had reason to be satisfied with himself. They had triumphed over the dangers of the gorge and savage siege, and he had sowed fruitful seed in the mind of Dayohogo, the powerful Mohawk chief. He had also come to a realization of himself, knowing for the first time that he had a great gift which might carry him far, and which might be of vast service to his people.
Therefore, the world was magnificent and beautiful. The air of forest and mountain was keen with life. His lungs expanded, all his faculties increased in power, and his figure seemed to grow. Swelling confidence bore him on. He was anxious to reach Quebec and fulfill his mission. Then he would go back to the vale of Onondaga and match himself against the clever St. Luc or any other spokesman whom the Marquis Duquesne might choose to send.
But his golden dreams were of Quebec, which was a continuous beacon and lure to him. Despite a life spent chiefly in the woods, which he loved, he always felt the distant spell of great capitals and a gorgeous civilization. In the New World Quebec came nearer than any other city to fulfilling this idea. There the nobles of France, then the most glittering country in the world, came in silks and laces and with gold hilted swords by their sides. The young French officers fought with a jest on their lips, but always with skill and courage, as none knew better than the British colonials themselves. There was a glow and glamor about Quebec which the sober English capitals farther south did not have. It might be the glow and glamor of decay, but people did not know it then, although they did know that the Frenchman, with his love of the forest and skill in handling the Indians, was a formidable foe.
"When do you think we'll reach the St. Lawrence, Dave?" he asked.
"In two or three days if we're not attacked again," replied the hunter, "and then we'll get a bigger boat and row down the river to Quebec."
"Will they let us pass?"
"Why shouldn't they? There's no war, at least not yet."
"That battle back there in the gorge may not have been war, but it looked precisely like it."
The hunter laughed deep in his throat, and it was a satisfied laugh.
"It did look like it," he said, "and it was war, red war, but nobody was responsible for it. The Marquis Duquesne, the Governor General of Canada, who is Onontio to our Iroquois, will raise his jeweled hand, and protest that he knew nothing about those Indians, that they were wild warriors from the west, that none of his good, pious Indians of Canada could possibly have been among them. And the Intendant, François Bigot, the most corrupt and ambitious man in North America, will say that they obtained no rifles, no muskets, no powder, no lead from him or his agents. Oh, no, these fine French gentlemen will disown the attack upon us, as they would have disavowed it, just the same, if we had been killed. I want to warn you, Robert, and you, Tayoga, that when you reach Quebec you'll breathe an air that's not that of the woods, nor yet of Albany or New York. It's a bit of old Europe, it's a reproduction on a small scale of the gorgeous Versailles over there that's eating the heart out of France. The Canadian Frenchman is a good man, brave and enduring, as I ought to know, but he's plundered and fooled by those people who come from France to make fame or quick fortunes here."
He spoke with earnestness, but not as a hunter. Rather he seemed now to Robert, despite his forest dress, to be a man of the world, one who understood cities as well as the wilderness.
"I don't know all your life, Dave," said young Lennox, "but I'm quite sure you know a great deal more than you would have people to think. Sometimes I believe you've been across the great water."
"Then you believe right, Robert. I never told you in so many words before, but I've been in Europe. I'll talk to you about it another time, not now, and I'll choose where and when."
He spoke so positively that Robert did not pursue the topic, knowing that if the hunter wished to avoid it he had good reasons. Yet he felt anew that David Willet, called the Great Bear by the Iroquois, had not spent his whole life in the woods and that when the time came he could tell a tale. There was always the fact that Willet spoke excellent English, so unlike the vernacular of the hunters.
The afternoon was waning fast. The sun was setting in an ocean of fire that turned the blue line of the mountains in the east to red. The slope of the land made the current of the river much swifter, and Robert and Willet drew in their paddles, leaving the work to Tayoga alone, who sat in the prow and guided their light craft with occasional strokes, letting the stream do the rest.
There was no more expert canoeman than Tayoga in the whole northern wilderness. A single sweep of his paddle would send the canoe to any point he wished, and apparently it was made without effort. There was no shortening of the breath nor any sudden and violent movement of his figure. It was all as smooth and easy as the flowing of the water itself. It seemed that Tayoga was doing nothing, and that the canoe once more was alive, the master of its own course.
The ocean of fire faded into a sea of gray, and then black night came, but the canoe sped on in the swift current toward the St. Lawrence. It was still the wilderness. The green forest on either side of the stream was unbroken. No smoke from a settler's chimney trailed across the sky. It was the forest as the Indian had known it for centuries. Robert, sitting in the center of the canoe, quit dreaming of great cities and came back to his own time and place. He felt the majesty of all that surrounded him, but he was not lonely, nor was he oppressed. Instead, the night, the great forest, the swift river and the gliding canoe appealed to his sensitive and highly imaginative mind. He was uplifted and he felt the confidence and elation that contribute so much to success.
It was characteristic of the three, so diverse in type, and yet knitted so closely together in friendship, that they would talk much at times and at other times have silence long and complete. Now, neither spoke for at least three hours. Tayoga, in the prow, made occasional strokes of his paddle, but the current remained swift and the speed of the canoe was not slackened. The young Onondaga devoted most of his time to watching. Much wreckage from storms or the suction of flood water often floated on the surface of these wild rivers, and his keen eyes searched for trunk or bough or snag. They also scanned at intervals the green walls speeding by on either side, lest they might pass some camp fire and not notice it, but finding no lighter note in the darkness he felt sure that no hostile bands were near.
About midnight the force of the current began to abate and Robert and Willet used the paddles. The darkness also thinned. The rainless clouds drifted away and disclosed a full moon, which turned the dusk of the water to silver. The stars came out in cluster after cluster and the skies became a shining blue. The wilderness revealed itself in another and splendid phase, and Robert saw and admired.
"How long will we go on, Dave?" The words were his and they were the first to break the long silence.
"Until nearly daylight," replied Willet. "Then we can land, take the canoe into the bushes and rest. What do you say, Tayoga?"
"It is good," replied the Onondaga. "We are not weary, because the
river, of its own accord, has borne us on its bosom, but we must sleep.
We would not wish to appear heavy of eye and mind before the children of
Onontio."
"Well spoken, Tayoga," said the hunter. "An Iroquois chief knows that appearance and dignity count, and you were right to remind us of it. I think that by the next sunset we'll be meeting French, not the Canadian French that they call habitants, but outposts made up mostly of officers and soldiers from France. They'll be very curious about us, naturally so, and since your new friend Dayohogo has announced that you are a great orator, you can do most of the talking and explaining, Robert."
"I'll talk my best," replied young Lennox. "Nobody can do more."
As agreed, they drew the canoe into the bushes shortly before daylight, and slept several hours. Then they returned to the river and resumed their journey. By the middle of the afternoon they saw signs of habitation, or at least of the presence of human beings. They beheld two smokes on the right bank, and one on the left, trailing black lines against the blue of the sky, but they were all far away, and they did not care to stop and determine their origin.
Shortly before sunset they saw a camp fire, very close on the eastern shore, and as they drew near the figures of men in uniform were visible against the red glow.
"I think we'd better draw in here," said Robert. "This is undoubtedly an outpost, and, likely, an officer of some importance is in charge. Ours is a mission of peace, and we want to placate as many people as we can, as we go."
"It is so," said Tayoga, making a sweep or two of the paddle, and sending the canoe in a diagonal line toward the designated shore.
Two men in blue uniforms with white facings walked to the edge of the water and looked at them with curiosity. Robert gave them a gaze as inquiring as their own, and after the habit of the forest, noted them carefully. He took them to be French of France. One was about forty years of age, rather tall, built well, his face browned by forest life. He had black, piercing eyes and a strong hooked nose. A man of resolution but cold of heart, Robert said to himself. The other, a little smaller, and a little younger, was of much the same type. The uniforms of both were fine and neat, and they bore themselves as officers of importance. Like St. Luc, they fortified Robert's opinion of what he was going to find at Quebec.
Neither of the men spoke until the canoe touched the shore, and its three occupants sprang out. Then they bowed politely, though Robert fancied that he saw a trace of irony in their manner, and the elder said in good English:
"Good evening, gentlemen."
"Good evening, Messieurs," said Robert, remembering that he was to be spokesman. "We are English."
"I can see readily that two of you are."
"The third, Tayoga, the son of a great Onondaga chief, is English also at heart."
The lips of the Frenchman curled ever so little. Robert saw at once that he challenged his assertion about Tayoga, but he did not seem to notice it, as he expected that his comrades and himself would be guests in the French camp.
"I have mentioned Tayoga," he said, "but I will introduce him again. He is of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee. I also present Mr. David Willet, a famous scout and hunter, known to the Indians, and perhaps to some of the French, too, as the Great Bear. My own name is Robert Lennox, of Albany and New York, and I have done nothing that is descriptive of me, but I bear important letters from the Governor of New York to Quebec, to be delivered to the Marquis Duquesne, the Governor General of Canada."
"That, young sir, is no slight mission," said the elder man, "and it is
our good fortune to speed you on your way. My friend is the Chevalier
François de Jumonville, one of France's most gallant officers, and I am
Auguste de Courcelles, a colonel by fortune's favor, in the service of
His Majesty, King Louis."
"I am sure," said Robert, "that it is not chance or the favor of fortune that has given you such important rank. Your manner and presence are sufficient assurance to me that you have won your rank with your own merits."
De Courcelles laughed a little, but it was a pleased laugh.
"You have a more graceful tongue than most of the English," he said, "and I could almost believe you had been at court."
"No nearer a court than Albany or New York."
"Then, sir, your credit is all the greater, because you have acquired so much with so little opportunity."
Robert bowed formally and Colonel de Courcelles bowed back in the same manner.
"The roads from Albany to Quebec are but trails," said de Courcelles, "but I hope your journey has been easy and pleasant."
Willet gave Robert a warning glance, and the lad replied:
"Fairly pleasant. We have met a slight obstacle or two, but it was not hard to remove them."
De Courcelles lifted his eyebrows a little.
"'Tis reported," he said, "that the savages are restless, that your English governors have been making them presents, and, as they interpret them, 'tis an inducement for them to take up the tomahawk against our good Canadians. Oh, don't be offended, Mr. Lennox! I have not said I believe such tales. Perhaps 'tis but the tongue of scandal wagging in this way, because it must wag in some way."
Robert believed much meaning underlay the man's words, and he made rapid surmises. Was de Courcelles trying to draw him out? Did he know of the attack made upon them at the hollow beside the river? Did he seek to forestall by saying the English were corrupting the Indians and sending them forth with the tomahawk? All these questions passed swiftly in his mind, but the gift discovered so newly came to his aid. His face expressed nothing, and smiling a little, he replied:
"The tongue of scandal, sir, does indeed wag wildly. The Governor of New York seeks at all times to keep peace among the Indians, and the fact that I am bearing letters from him to the Marquis Duquesne is proof of his good intentions."
"I accept your professions," said de Courcelles, "as I trust you will accept my own assurances of amity and good faith. Why should we discuss politics, when we are well met here in the woods? We have a fairly good camp, and it's at your service. If I may judge by appearances your journey has been attended by some hardships."
"You infer correctly," replied Robert, "and we shall be glad indeed to share your fire and food with you."
De Courcelles and Jumonville led the way to a large camp fire around which at least fifty French, Canadians and Indians were seated. All the French and Canadians were in uniform, and the Canadians, although living in a colder climate, had become much darker than the parent stock. In truth, many of them were quite as dark as the Indians.
These Canadians of the French stock were, for the present, silent men, and Robert regarded them with the deepest interest. Those who were not in uniform wore long frock coats of dark gray or dark brown, belted at the waist with a woolen sash of bright colors, decorated heavily with beads. Trousers and waistcoats were of the same material as the coats, but their feet were inclosed in Indian moccasins, also adorned profusely with beads. They wore long hair in a queue, incased in an eel-skin, and with their swarthy complexions and high cheek bones they looked like wild sons of the forest to Robert. Tayoga, the Onondaga, was to him a more civilized being. All the Canadians were smoking short pipes, and, while they did not speak, their black eyes, restless with eager curiosity, inspected the strangers.
The Indians in de Courcelles' party were of two types, the converted Indians of Canada, partly in white man's costume, and utterly savage Indians of the far west, in very little costume at all, one or two of them wearing only the breech cloth. The looks they bestowed upon Robert and his comrades were far from friendly, and he wondered if any Ojibway, a warrior who perhaps owned Tandakora as a chief, was among them. They were sitting about the fire and none of them spoke.
"We cannot offer you a banquet," said de Courcelles, "but we can give you variety, none the less. This portion of His Majesty's territory is a wilderness, but it provides an abundance of fish and game."
Robert believed that he had alluded purposely to the territory as "His Majesty's," and, his mind challenging it instantly, he was about to reply that in reality it was the northern part of the Province of New York, but his second and wiser thought caused him to refrain. He would enter upon no controversy with the older man, especially when he saw that the latter wished to draw him into one. De Courcelles, seeing that his lead was not followed, devoted himself to hospitality.
"We have venison, beaver tail, quail, good light bread and some thin red wine," he said. "You Americans or English—which shall I call you?"
"Either," replied Robert, "because we are both."
"Then English it shall be for the present, because you are under that flag. I was going to say that you are somewhat hostile to wine, which we French love, and which we know how to drink in moderation. In some respects we are a people of more restraint than you are. The slow, cold English mind starts with an effort, but when it is started it is stopped with equal difficulty. You either do too little or too much. You lack the logic and precision of the Frenchman."
Robert smiled and replied lightly. Having avoided controversy upon one point, he was of no mind to enter it upon another, and de Courcelles, not pressing a third attack, entered with Jumonville upon his duties as host. Both were graceful, easy, assured, and they fulfilled Robert's conception of French officers, as men of the world who knew courts and manners. It was a time when courts were more important than they are today, and they were recognized universally as the chief fountains from which flowed honor and advancement.
Robert did not like them as well as St. Luc, but he found a certain charm in their company. They could talk of things that interested him, and they exerted themselves, telling indirectly of the glories of Quebec and alluding now and then to the greater splendors of Paris and Versailles. It was a time when the French monarchy loomed as the greatest power in the world. The hollowness and decay of the House of Bourbon were not yet disclosed, even to the shrewdest observers, and a spell was cast upon all the civilized nations by the gorgeous and glittering world of fashion and the world of arms. The influence reached even into the depths of the vast North American wilderness and was felt by Robert as he sat beside the camp fire in the savage woods with the Frenchmen.
He drank a little of the red wine, but only a very little, and Tayoga would not touch it at all. Willet took a small leather cup of it, but declined a second. The food was good, better cooked than it usually was among the English colonists, where the table was regarded as a necessity, and in no particular as a rite. Robert, despite his habitual caution, found his heart warming toward his French hosts. It could not be possible that the Indians had been set upon his comrades and himself by the French! The warmth of his heart increased when one of the Canadians took a violin from a cloth cover and began to play wailing old airs. Like so many others, Robert was not made melancholy by melancholy music. Instead, he saw through a pleasing glow and the world grew poetic and tender. The fire sank and Americans, French, Canadians and Indians listened with the same silent interest. Presently the violinist played a livelier tune and the habitants sang to the music:
"Malbrouck, s'en va t-en guerre
Mironton, mironton, mirontaine;
Malbrouck s'en va t-en guerre
Ne sait quand reviendra."
Then he left Malbrouck, and it was:
"Hier sur le pont d'Avignon
J'ai oui chanter la belle
Lon, la,
J'ai oui chanter la belle
Elle chantait d'un ton si doux
Comme une demoiselle
Lon, la,
Comme une demoiselle."
The Canadians sang well, particularly in "The Bridge of Avignon," and the dying fire, the black woods around them and the sighing wind created an effect that no stage scenery could ever have given it. When the last note melted with the wind de Courcelles sighed a little and stared into the sinking fire.
"It is a fair country, sweet France," he said; "I myself have stood upon the bridge of Avignon, and I have watched the pretty girls. It may be that I have had a kiss or two, but all that is far away now. This is a bolder country than France, Mr. Lennox, larger, more majestic, but it is wild and savage, and will be so for many years to come. Nor can the rules that apply to old and civilized Europe apply here, where the deeds of men, like the land, are wilder, too."
Robert was conscious of some meaning in his words, perhaps a trace of apology for a deed that he had done or would do, but in the mind of young Lennox men's standards should be the same, whether in the wilderness of New York and Canada or in the open fields of France and England. De Courcelles, thoughtful for a moment, turned suddenly to the man with the violin and cried:
"Play! Play again!"
The man played quaint old airs, folk songs that had been brought from Normandy and Brittany, and the habitants sang them in low voices or rather hummed them in the subdued manner that seemed fitting to the night, since the black shadows were creeping up closer, leaving only the fire, as a core of light with the dusky figures around it. During all the talk the Indians had been silent. They had eaten their food and remained now, sitting in Turkish fashion, the flickering flames that played across their faces giving to them a look sinister and menacing to the last degree.
The Frenchmen, too, fell silent, as if their courtesy was exhausted and conversation had become an effort. The last of the old French airs was finished, and the player put his violin away. Jumonville, who had spoken but little, threw a fresh stick on the fire and looked at the black wall of circling forest.
"I can never get quite used to it," he said. "The wilderness is so immense, so menacing that when I am in it at night a little shiver will come now and then. I suppose our remote ancestors who lived in caves must have had fear at their elbows all their lives."
"Very likely," said de Courcelles, thoughtfully, staring into the coals. "It isn't strange that many people have worshiped fire as God. Why shouldn't they when it brings light in the dark, and lifts up our souls, when it warms us and makes us feel strong, when it cooks our food and when in the earlier day it drove away the great wild animals, with which man was not able to fight on equal terms?"
"I am not one to undervalue fire," said Robert.
"Few of us do in the forest. The night grows chill, but two of our good Canadians will keep the coals alive until morning. And now I suppose you are weary with your day's travels and wish sleep. I see that you have blankets of your own or I should offer you some of ours."
Tayoga had been sitting before the fire, as silent as the Canadian Indians, his rifle across his knees, his eyes turned toward the blaze. The glow of the flames fell upon him, disclosing his lofty countenance, his splendidly molded figure, and his superiority to the other Indians, who were not of the Hodenosaunee and who to him were, therefore, as much barbarians as all people who were not Greeks were barbarians to the ancient Greeks. Not a word of kinship or friendship had passed between him and them. For him, haughty and uncompromising, they did not exist. For a long time his deep unfathomable eyes had never turned from the fire, but now he rose suddenly and said:
"Someone comes in the forest!"
De Courcelles looked up in surprise.
"I hear nothing," he said.
"Someone comes in the forest!" repeated Tayoga with emphasis.
De Courcelles glanced at his own Indians. They had not yet moved, but in a moment or two they too rose to their feet, and then he knew that the Onondaga was right. Now Robert also heard a moccasined and light footstep approaching. A darker shadow appeared against the darkness, and the figure of an Indian, gigantic and sinister, stepped within the circle of the firelight.
It was Tandakora, the Ojibway.