CHAPTER XXIX
THE WORD OF AN INDIAN CHIEF
"What is he going to do, Bob?" demanded Sandy, who had opened his eyes, after a minute or so had passed without the expected blow, and who heard Pontiac's demand that the guns of the prisoners be handed to him without understanding what the meaning of the order could be.
"Watch and see!" replied Bob, in a husky voice, and without taking his eyes off the sachem a second. He himself, as yet, had only a vague suspicion concerning any benefit that might spring from this action on the part of Pontiac.
Almost as in a dream, then, Sandy saw first one musket thrust out to the famous chieftain, and then the second. Pontiac examined them eagerly, and, after handling the gun belonging to Bob, once more gave it back into the possession of the keeper. But, as he raised that which Sandy himself had owned, a look of intelligence flashed across the dark face of the Indian.
He even raised the musket to his nose as though to smell the odor of burnt powder that must have still clung to it after the recent discharge. Then he turned upon the two young prisoners.
"Yours?" he demanded, his flashing eyes fastened on the astonished face of Sandy, just as though he had been able to read the nature of both lads in that single earnest look, and understood how impulse swayed one more than the other.
Sandy might have wished to deny all ownership of the weapon; but somehow he was unable to do so, with those impelling eyes fastened upon him. So, still unable to use his tongue, he simply nodded his head.
"You shoot at French trader?" continued Pontiac.
Another nod in the affirmative answered him; and then Bob saw a change begin to spread over the dark features of the chief. He looked at Sandy; but his brother failed to grasp the wonderful meaning of the miracle that had been wrought in their behalf. To his mind all this talk only served as a forerunner to the dreadful fate that was surely to be their portion.
"Why white boy shoot French trapper?" asked Pontiac.
Realizing that Sandy was unable to frame a coherent reply, Bob boldly took it upon himself to make answer.
"You ask why, great Pontiac?" he said. "Because he could not lie there and see a cowardly snake creep up behind a brave man to strike him in the back. He sent his lead into the arm that held the warclub, and saved the life of Pontiac!"
Then, Indian though he was, the great Pontiac smiled. Perhaps he understood how these paleface boys must have known that, if the traitorous Frenchman had been allowed to carry out his will, it would have been much to the advantage of the border settlements; but that Sandy, unable to control his impulse to rebuke such rank treachery as Larue exhibited, had been unable to hold his fire.
Pontiac turned to the surging crowd of Indians. He held up his hand, and every shout was stilled; even the murmuring ceased, such was his magnetic influence over the wild spirits of hot-headed young warriors whom their own chiefs could not restrain.
"Listen!" he said, in a voice that reached easily to the further extremity of the gathered throng. "Pontiac sat on yonder log. Your chief Kiashuta had left him to seek for something that was in his lodge. In the mind of Pontiac many things dwell to give him cause for thought. He heard not the coming of the snake in the grass who crawled up behind, and swung aloft the club with which he expected to dash out the brains of a chief.
"Listen. In the bushes and the grass lay two paleface boys. They had guns. They had come many miles from their cabin on the running water to the south. They had no reason to love Pontiac, who has ever been the enemy of their race; but they had hate in their hearts for a snake that could sting in the heel. So, quickly did this gun speak. The arm that was raised fell helpless. And then Pontiac closed with the treacherous Frenchman.
"Listen yet again, warriors. Had it not been for this paleface boy, where now would be your leader? How could Pontiac strike the flint that will make the whole border blaze with fires, if he lay here on this ground, dead?"
He looked around him as though expecting an answer; but not a single voice was raised. Slowly the truth was penetrating the brains of those who heard. They understood that, no matter what his motive may have been, the paleface boy had saved the famous chieftain to those who hung upon his every look or word, as though he had charmed them with his magic.
"Release them!" Pontiac continued, making an imperious gesture toward the warriors who were clutching the two lads; and immediately they hastened to obey his will. "They belong to Pontiac; let one of you from this hour lay so much as a finger on them at his peril!"
When Sandy heard these words he seemed to regain his power of speech once more, for he clutched Bob's arm convulsively as soon as he found himself free, and exclaimed:
"Bob, do you hear that? He says we are his prisoners, and that we will not be harmed! Oh! if only we could get him to give us Kate now, what a blessed thing it would be! Perhaps after all, Bob, my hasty nature did better for us than all the planning. Ask him if he will help us, won't you, Bob? 'Strike while the iron is hot,' father always says. Speak to him, now."
But Bob held back, for he saw that the chief had more to say, since he was once again turning toward them. To the delight of the boys he gravely held out his hand, white man fashion, for Pontiac had been brought up among the French, and knew almost as much of the white men's ways as though he had been born a paleface.
"We are friends," he said, as he pressed each hand firmly. "You have saved the life of Pontiac. Ask what favor you will, and, if it is in his power, so shall it be granted. First tell me what you seek, so far away from your home?"
"In a cabin, where the swift water runs between the hills, lives our mother," said Bob. "Our father has gone over the big hill to Richmond to bring back with him some of the things a white woman needs. Besides my brother and myself, there was one child, a sweet girl, about so high," and he held his hand below his shoulder to indicate that his sister was much shorter than himself.
Pontiac bowed his head gravely to indicate that he understood what the boy was saying.
"One day there came some Senecas to the settlement," Bob went on, eagerly. "They, held up their hands in the peace sign, and we met them as friends. They told us they had been on a long journey into Kentucky, to visit another tribe. They were without tobacco, and their stock of maize had dwindled low. We gave them of each, enough to last until they could reach their lodges on the Great Lakes.
"But one young Seneca, who bore the feather of a chief in his hair, looked long on the sweet face of the white girl. He remembered that in his lodge, far away, no longer the voice of his own sister was heard; and that the old squaw, his mother, mourned each day for the one who was not.
"So he made up his mind to steal the paleface girl, and bear her away to the village of the Senecas on the big water to the north. When my brother and myself were in the forest hunting for meat he stole our sister away. We have followed him from the rushing Ohio to the Great Lakes. Our sister is here. Will the great Pontiac keep his word by giving her back to our charge, and letting us depart for the cabin where a mother mourns?"
Bob knew how to put the case before the one who must be their judge, so that, as an Indian, Pontiac could grasp it readily; and he saw from the face of the other that he had succeeded in his effort. When an Indian gives his word it is ever afterward sacred.
"Listen!" said the chief, impressively. "Look around you. There are many Senecas here, braves and chiefs. Does the paleface boy see the one who took tobacco and maize from the white man's hand, and then stole his daughter?"
"Yes!" exclaimed Sandy, finding his voice. "I saw him just then, among those Indians yonder. There, he is trying to steal away; for he fears the frown of the great and just Pontiac. It is Black Beaver!"
The young chief, seeing that escape was useless, returned, and, standing before Pontiac, folded his arms across his naked chest. Words in the Indian tongue passed quickly between them. Black Beaver seemed defiant at first; but presently he came under the persuasive eloquence of the marvellous orator. He let his chin fall on his breast, and finally, when Pontiac dismissed him with an imperious gesture, the subdued young chief stalked away, heading straight for his wigwam.
"When he comes back he will bring the white girl," said Pontiac. "She shall go with the brave young boys who have sought her so far; and not a warrior will lift a hand to do them harm. More than this, because of what you have done this night, you and your family are forever the friends of Pontiac. Danger and death will never come near your cabin while he lives. There will be a dead line drawn about it, and woe to the Indian who molests the friends of the chief. I have spoken!"
Loudly did his voice ring out as he said these thrilling words that would never be forgotten by either of the two lads as long as they lived. And far and wide would the command be sent that the little brood of David Armstrong was to be immune from all the perils of an Indian war, even though flame and destruction swooped down upon their nearest neighbor.
"Look! he is coming back, and our sister is with him!" cried Sandy, unable to restrain his delight at sight of the one they loved so dearly.
Black Beaver did not show any emotion as he drew near. He realized that, when Pontiac spoke, it was for him to obey. And as a true Indian, he was ready to accept the fortunes of war, no matter how it hurt.
The Indians made a passage-way to allow them to approach. Pontiac himself took the trembling hand of the frightened girl, and led her to where her two gallant brothers stood with outstretched arms.
"Weep no more, paleface girl. You are going home to the white squaw who mourns in the cabin on the bank of the swift water," said Pontiac, as he released her in front of the boys.
Another instant and Kate, with a cry of joy, had flung her arms about the neck of first one brother and then the other, while Pontiac stood and watched the happy reunion without his face expressing the feelings that must have been struggling in his heart; for so has an Indian been trained never to betray emotion.
How like magic had the scene been changed! Only a few minutes before and poor Sandy was deeply dejected, in the belief that his hasty and ill-advised act had forever ruined their only chance for a rescue. And now they stood there, not only free, and with their dear sister given into their charge, but safe in the pledged friendship of the most powerful of all Indians, Pontiac himself.
"It seems like a dream, Bob!" cried Kate. "I can hardly believe it to be true. How did you manage it, you and dear Sandy? Oh! how happy I am to think that soon I shall see my own mother again! Not that Black Beaver has been cruel to me. He tried to be a brother after his way. I am sorry for him; but there is no one can take the place of father, mother, Bob and Sandy."
"In good time you will hear it all, Kate," said Bob. "It is a strange story. But I wonder whether Pontiac will extend his favor to our good friends who have come with us to try and influence Black Beaver to give us back our sister. The whites and the Senecas are at peace, for the hatchet has not yet been dug up between them, so we hoped to win Kiashuta to our side; to have him say that Black Beaver had done wrong when he smote the hand that fed him."
Pontiac heard what he said, for he immediately gave the assurance Bob requested.
"If others have come with you to bring the white girl back, they, too, shall not be harmed until they have reached the swift water. Because they are your friends, Pontiac has said this. So let them appear. They shall walk among us in safety, for the word of the chief is given."
But, though Bob raised his voice and called, none of the other four cared to accept the invitation to come into the village and meet the sachem of the Sacs.
Perhaps it was just as well. Both Simon Kenton and Pat O'Mara were well-known Indian fighters, and belonged to a class of men who threatened to be thorns in the side of Pontiac in his ambitious designs to head a new confederation of tribes.
Doubtless they would be quickly recognized by some of the Indians present from other tribes; and even the word of Pontiac might not keep these warriors from seeking to avenge their kin who had fallen in times past before the rifles of Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton and their fellow borderers.
CHAPTER XXX
SAFE AT LAST
"We must get away from here without delay, Sandy," said the elder of the young pioneers, after exchanging a few more words with Pontiac.
"Shall we accept the offer of Pontiac," asked Sandy, "and make for the river under the guard of his men?"
"No," replied Bob, quickly; "for many reasons that must not be. He has promised to give us a totem flag that will warn any wandering band of Indians we may happen to meet that we are friends of the great Pontiac, and must not be disturbed. And I have promised him that it shall always be kept in our own cabin, only to be shown in case of any uprising."
"Then we must try to find Kenton, Pat and Blue Jacket?" questioned Sandy, who was fairly wild to be away; for he seemed to fear lest their late good fortune turn out to be a dream, from which they might be rudely awakened.
"Yes," Bob went on; "and if we go soon I believe we will run across them at the place Kenton appointed. They will wait there for us the balance of the night, I feel sure."
"What do you think they believed must have happened, Bob?" Kate in turn asked.
"Who can say?" her brother answered, shaking his head, as though puzzled. "Fancy how astonished they must have been when all this racket broke out, before they could make ready to start the fires, or Blue Jacket get among the lodges to steal Kate, here, away. And then, if Kenton was near enough to see Pontiac take our hands in his, how he must have stared!"
"But it seems all for the best, to me," said Sandy, softly; "even my foolish rashness in firing without thinking. We have made a powerful friend in Pontiac, and perhaps saved our mother and father from the doom that comes to so many settlers in the wilderness. And here is Kate given over to our charge without either of us having to shoot down a single Indian. Yes, Heaven was kind to us."
"Here comes the great sachem, and bearing in his hand the totem flag which is to stand between us and harm," remarked Bob, as he saw Pontiac approaching them, followed by a retinue of jostling braves and chiefs.
The object which he thrust into the hand of Bob was a beautifully made wampum belt that had been attached to a stick. It was of unusual wideness, and the symbols represented in its barbaric splendor undoubtedly told a story that every warrior could understand. (Note 8.)
It seemed as though every brave in the great Seneca village had gathered to hear what the chief among ten thousand Indians had to say, as he presented this badge of friendship to the young pioneers. Some scowled as they surveyed the palefaces; but the majority seemed friendly, because they realized that as Indians they owed a debt of gratitude to the white boy who had saved the life so valuable to their cause.
"Hear!" said Pontiac, elevating his wonderful voice, even as he raised his dusky arm with the air of a king, "these are the friends of Pontiac. Let no Indian lift a hand against them, or dare to follow as they pass over the back trail to the swift water. Where this totem hangs, that cabin is secure from the torch, those inmates safe from the hatchet, the flaming arrow, the knife. So long as Pontiac lives let there be peace between the red men and those who bear the name of Armstrong. I have spoken."
Once again he thrust out his hand, and gravely shook that of each of the whites, not even forgetting Kate. And, in the stirring times to come, when the whole border would ring with the wonderful, masterful ability of this organizer and red leader, perhaps there would arise days of alarm when Bob and Sandy would rejoice to know that the word of a chief may never be broken.
So they took their parting look at the village on the Great Lakes, and plunged into the forest. Not a single brave dared to follow them, so great was their fear and respect for the mighty sachem of the Sacs.
Straight to the meeting-place of the five chestnuts Bob led the way. Unerringly he took his companions there, and at the first signal call Kenton and the other three made their appearance.
"What does this magic mean?" asked the borderer, when he saw who was the companion of the Armstrong boys.
"Sure it makes me think I do be draming!" declared Pat O'Mara, as he wrung the hands of those he loved so well; nor did Kate hesitate to throw her arms about the neck of this faithful friend of her parents, so wild with delight was she to see some one from home.
"Sandy did it," replied Bob, hastily, only too glad to tell what a wonderful change in their fortunes the hasty act of his brother had effected. "He stopped Larue from bringing down a club on the head of Pontiac as the chief sat on a log, lost in thought. And, because of that, Pontiac has called us his friends. This totem flag will warn every red-skinned warrior to injure us at the risk of making the chief his deadly foe. And the Armstrong cabin will never be put to the torch, or a single inmate harmed by an Indian so long as Pontiac lives!"
Loud were the expressions of astonishment on the part of the others. Kenton, who saw himself reflected on a small scale in the quick-tempered Sandy, grasped hold of the boy, and shook him almost fiercely by the hand; after which Pat and Abijah, yes, even the undemonstrative Blue Jacket, followed suit.
"It seems almost too good to be true," cried the delighted Kenton. "Not but that it would have been a great thing for the struggling border settlements if Pontiac had been slain here and now; yet how wonderfully that shot won our cause. But what is this you tell us of Larue? We left him yet a prisoner in the cavern back of the cataract. We must see to that!"
He immediately started for the stream, and, as it would not be much out of their route, as they headed for the far-distant Ohio, both boys were quite willing. Besides, they were curious to learn just how the wily French trapper had slipped his bonds.
On the road to the waterfall Kenton asked many questions. He, together with his companions, had been stunned when the uproar burst forth, just before they were ready to begin operations. But all was made plain now, and, while Simon Kenton would have been happier had he found himself in the thick of the fray, he could not complain at the way things had turned out.
They found the two French trappers still where they had been left. All they would say was that Larue had seemed to suddenly break loose, and had basely left them, possibly in his haste to reach the village and give the alarm, not wishing to linger long enough to effect their release.
"The tricky Frenchman rolled into this pool of water, and let his bonds soak," said Kenton, after he had made an examination. "When wet, the deerskin thongs stretched enough for him to work loose. He was afraid we might come back and secure him again, so he fled without stopping to so much as lend a helping hand to his mates."
"Yes, and upon reaching the village he must have seen Pontiac sitting there alone," said Bob, in turn. "Remembering how the great chief had struck him in the face, and humiliated him at the grand council under the big oak, he was unable to resist the temptation to creep up and try to obtain revenge. In doing it Larue never suspected that he was playing right into our hands."
"If the Indians only knew that we listened to what was said at that same council," remarked Kenton; "they might not be willing to let the rest of us escape so easily."
"But what shall we do with these two men?" asked Bob, thoughtfully. "We can't leave them here, for perhaps Larue may be put to the stake with the dawn, and the story of their captivity would never be known. The Indians avoid this spot, Blue Jacket says, as the waterfall is believed to be haunted by the spirits of their ancestors, who call out constantly, and try to make the red children understand what they are doing in Manitou Land."
"No, we will take them along with us," determined Kenton. "Some days hence we can let them go free. By that time they could not harm us by returning to the Seneca village, and telling what they know of the council spies."
They lost no time in starting. Though Kenton knew that Pontiac's totem belt would probably be able to protect them, he was, nevertheless, anxious to be well on the way to the Ohio.
So, for several days they journeyed; after which the two French trappers were let go, with a warning that they would be roughly treated if they ever again showed themselves near the settlement on the river bank.
And one day the little company arrived safely at home. Great was the rejoicing of Mrs. Armstrong. The entire community gathered around that humble home in the clearing to hear the story of the wonderful journey. And every hand had to touch the wampum belt of Pontiac that was to stand between the Armstrongs and peril, in case of another Indian uprising.
Time passed on. It proved too late in the fall for the expected flame to develop; and from their scouts the settlers learned, much to their relief, that the uprising had been postponed until spring. Of course that did not mean they would be free from interference, because the Shawanees were always on the warpath, and the hatchet remained dug up between them and the encroaching whites.
Bob and Sandy went on their way, gathering the pelts that they found in their traps. Often they talked over the adventures that had marked their journey to the land of the Great Lakes. Sandy was more determined than ever to lead the life of an explorer, and follow in the footsteps of the bold and resourceful hero whom he fairly worshipped, Simon Kenton.
"Some day," he would say, as they thus talked and exchanged confidences, "I mean to set eyes on that wonderful river away to the west, the mighty Mississippi, under which rest the bones of the bold discoverer, De Soto. I will never rest happy, Bob, until I can say that I have seen the grandest river in all the world."
"Well," replied his brother with a smile, "perhaps I may yet conclude to go with you, Sandy. It is time our people knew more about what the French traders are doing in that region, establishing posts for dealing with the Indians. But in a few days, now, we ought to hear something of father."
"Yes, winter is here, the snow is thick, and it is nearly time," sighed Sandy; "and let us hope the good fortune that followed us all the way to the far north, will bring him back to mother, safe and sound."
Though neither of them could see just how their ambition was to be realized, there was a way developing, and, in a new story concerning the fortunes of Bob and Sandy, to be called: "The Pioneer Boys of the Mississippi," we will have considerably more to narrate in connection with the fortunes of the two lads.
One afternoon there was a loud shout heard close to the Armstrong cabin; and a train of four horses was discovered heading from the main settlement, followed by a score of men and women, all greatly excited.
Of course it was David Armstrong, returned with a store of necessities that must delight the heart of the good housewife, who, however, was ten times happier over the safe home-coming of the man she loved so fondly, than because of anything the newly-recovered money could buy.
They had a great time of feasting and rejoicing. The boys were compelled to narrate every incident connected with their eventful journey in search of Kate; and, as Pat O'Mara still hung around, assisting Bob and Sandy in their trapping expeditions, he was able to add many little touches to the wonderful story.
So the winter which they had dreaded so much proved to be a period of joy to the whole settlement on the Ohio. Mr. Armstrong would often take up that magic wampum belt of the great sachem, Pontiac, and fondle it reverently, as his imagination pictured that stirring scene when, with his apparently ill-advised shot, Sandy made a friend of the powerful leader, and thus insured the safety of those he loved.
THE END.
NOTES
Note 1 (page 7)
The modern repeating rifle is a far different weapon from the clumsy, uncertain, inaccurate flint-lock musket, and yet our forefathers developed rare skill in the use of these primitive guns, which were fired by a flint striking the hammer, causing a spark to ignite a pinch of powder in a receptacle called the "pan." This in turn ignited the charge of powder that speeded the bullet on its way.
The loading of such a gun was a slow and painstaking task. The charge of powder must be measured out and poured down the barrel. The bullet, with its "patch," or bit of rag, must then be rammed down upon the powder, and finally the priming of powder must be placed in the pan. The utmost care was used in loading, but, even then, the spark might fail to ignite the priming, or the latter might be damp, or have been shaken from the pan. Many a brave frontiersman lost his life because, in his time of need, his musket failed to "go off."
Note 2 (page 21)
The Five Nations was the name given by Champlain to a league that had been formed by five powerful tribes of the Iroquois race, the Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas, Cayugas and Senecas, who inhabited the Lake Region of what is now Central New York. The name of the league was changed to the Six Nations when, in 1722, the Tuskaroras, fleeing from North Carolina, found a refuge with the league and became a member of it.
The union was for the purposes of offence and defence and originally had a permanent central government lodged in fifty chiefs, who held office for life. In the colonial wars between the French and English and, later, in the Revolutionary War, the Six Nations were usually found fighting on the side of the English.
Note 3 (page 85)
Except for some tribes of the Pacific Coast, who held their captives as slaves, a male prisoner was either adopted into the tribe, or else put to death by torture, the decision usually resting with the women. If the prisoner's death was decided on, the most fiendish ingenuity was shown. While burning at the stake was the most common mode of death, it was usually preceded by a succession of tortures, carefully planned to prolong the victim's agony to the utmost.
Note 4 (page 107)
The turkey, now domesticated in nearly every country of the world, is a native of North America, and was unknown before the coming of Columbus. While now the wild turkey is almost extinct, the early settlers found these birds in the greatest abundance, and they formed a not unimportant portion of the frontiersman's fare.
Note 5 (page 192)
The Indian method of disposing of the dead varied with the different tribes and different localities. While burial in the ground was more common, many tribes, notably of the plains, placed the bodies in trees or upon platforms; others placed their dead in sitting positions in caves; still others practised cremation. It was the general custom to either burn or bury the personal belongings of the deceased, in order that he might enjoy their use in the life to come.
Note 6 (page 226)
Although smoking was a universal custom among the American Indians, tobacco was unknown to the rest of the world previous to the discovery of America; but its use has since spread to the four quarters of the globe. The Spaniards were the first European smokers, but their example was quickly followed by the other nations, although church and state did what they could to prevent the spread of the habit, Pope Urban VII having even gone so far as to issue an edict against it.
The scientific name, Nicotiana, was given tobacco in honor of Jean Nicot, French Ambassador to Portugal, who, on his return to France, presented a package of seed to Catherine de Medici.
Among the Indians, ceremonial smoking was a universal rite, and had a deep religious significance, smoke being considered as an incense of the gods, while the act of smoking was the strongest form of oath.
All discussions between individuals, all councils of a tribe, all treaty-making was preceded by the smoking of "the pipe of peace" and all agreements were ratified by the passing of the sacred pipe from hand to hand until all had joined in the solemn ceremony.
Note 7 (page 284)
Among the eastern Indians the principal civil officers were the Sachems. This office was elective, in theory; but, in practice, it was usually hereditary. There was also a head war-chief, although at times the two offices were held by the same individual. Except for these two officers, there can hardly be said to have been any social distinctions among the various members of a tribe. At that, the authority of the Sachem generally depended more on the ability and influence of the individual than on the power conferred by his office, while, except in actual warfare, where his commands were fairly well obeyed, the head war-chief seems to have had no authority whatever.
Note 8 (page 337)
Wampum was used by the Indians both as an ornament and as money. It was of two kinds, the white, made from the stem of the periwinkle shell, and the black, made from the dark spot in the quahog shell. Both were carefully shaped and polished, then pierced and strung in the form of belts, necklaces or bracelets. The black wampum was considered more valuable than the white.
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"Mr. Johnston has done faithful work in this volume, and his relation of battles, sieges and struggles of these famous Indians with the whites for the possession of America is a worthy addition to United States History."—New York Marine Journal.
FAMOUS SCOUTS
"It is the kind of a book that will have a great fascination for boys and young men, and while it entertains them it will also present valuable information in regard to those who have left their impress upon the history of the country."—The New London Day.
FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVENTURERS OF THE SEA
"The tales are more than merely interesting; they are entrancing, stirring the blood with thrilling force and bringing new zest to the never-ending interest in the dramas of the sea."—The Pittsburgh Post.
FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES OF THE BORDER
This book is devoted to a description of the adventurous lives and stirring experiences of many pioneer heroes who were prominently identified with the opening of the Great West.
"The accounts are not only authentic, but distinctly readable, making a book of wide appeal to all who love the history of actual adventure."—Cleveland Leader.