"No," answered Aeana, decisively. "That is," she added, "we will return to our father, and that quickly, but we must either take this young man with us or leave him to perish. See you not that the river is flowing backward and that its waters are rising? If we leave him he must die, since he is in no condition to care for himself. How we may get him into the canoe I know not, but if that can be done we will carry him to Kaweras, our father."

The elder though more timid sister attempted a further expostulation, but without heeding her Aeana brought the canoe close to where the wounded youth still sat, indifferent alike to his fate and his surroundings, idly repeating the strange words that had fixed themselves in his bewildered brain. Aeana spoke to him, but he failed to comprehend what she said. She laid a gentle hand on his arm and endeavored to persuade him into the canoe, but he sat passively motionless.

Finally in despair the girl uttered one of the strange words that he so constantly repeated. "Massasoit," she said, and the youth looked at her, seeming for the first time to recognize her presence. A faint smile flickered across his blood-smeared features, and he made a movement towards her. In another moment, aided by her supple strength, he had gained the interior of the canoe, and lay weakly with closed eyes while the two girls pulled it out from among the reeds. Then seizing their paddles, they urged the light craft swiftly down the river towards their father's lodge.

Thus did the daughters of Kaweras, who had been sent to fetch a bundle of stout reeds that might serve as shafts for bird arrows, return without them, but bringing a wounded and unconscious youth in their place.

Although the old arrow-maker saw at a glance that the young warrior was not of the Maqua, nor even of the Iroquois people, his ideas of hospitality did not permit him to ask questions nor hesitate a moment before attending to the stranger's needs. It required the united strength of father and daughters to transfer Nahma from canoe to lodge, and when he was finally laid in the latter on a hastily improvised couch of boughs and skins, he was once more to all appearance dead.

CHAPTER VI IN THE LODGE OF THE ARROW-MAKER

The lodge of Kaweras, occupied only by him and his two daughters, stood by itself in a grassy glade shaded by elms on the western bank of the lordly Shatemuc. Close at hand flowed a spring of crystal water, while at no great distances were abundant materials for the prosecution of the old arrow-maker's trade. Nearby hills furnished him with flints and slate, agate and milk-white quartz; stout reeds and tough, straight-grained woods were to be had for the taking. Deer of the forest yielded him their strong back-sinews for binding arrow-head to shaft, and myriads of sea-fowl flying up or down the broad river gave him of their feathers. In his younger days Kaweras had been a noted warrior. Now he was the most expert arrow-maker of the region in which he dwelt. He was also a mystic, a prophet, and one well versed in the science of healing by means of herbs, roots, bark, and leaves.

In his double capacity of arrow-maker and medicine-man Kaweras was much sought after, and though his lodge stood remote from any village of his people, it was rarely without visitors. Young warriors came for arrows and to catch glimpses of his pretty daughters; their elders came to consult with him concerning grave affairs; while many of all ages and both sexes came for healing or to profit by his advice. As all brought gifts, Kaweras was well-to-do, and his larder was always stocked with choicest products of forest and field without effort on his own part or that of his daughters.

These last kept tidy the spacious lodge with its three divisions, of which only the outer one was for the general public, prepared the family meals, and did much sewing with needles of fishbone threaded with fibre or sinew. At the same time they found abundant leisure for paddling on the river in their canoe of white birch brought from the far north and for attending to the needs of their pets, two tame fawns and a large flock of wild ducks bred in captivity. Also they helped their father in the making of arrows, and especially in the gathering of material.

With this busy but uneventful life the elder sister was quite content, but Aeana always longed for excitement and adventure. Now she had found both in the coming to their quiet lodge of a stranger, young, mysterious, wounded to the point of death, and speaking a language to which even the wisdom of her father could find no clue. Furthermore, she regarded him with a proprietary interest, for had she not discovered him and rescued him from almost certain destruction?

During the long illness that followed his coming, and while he lay oblivious to his surroundings, she often gazed curiously upon his face, listened to the three strange words that he repeated to the exclusion of all others, and speculated concerning him. She became impatient for him to get well that he might tell her who he was, where he came from, and how he happened to be in the sad plight that had so nearly proved fatal. She would have talked of him to their many visitors but for her father's expressed wish that Nahma's presence in their lodge should be kept a secret from all men. Kaweras hoped thus to learn something concerning him from unguarded conversations, but in this he was disappointed. It is true that he heard of the mysterious disappearance of Nahma, the son of Longfeather, but whenever that youth was mentioned Miantinomo was described, and as this description did not coincide in any particular with the appearance of his patient, he had no reason to connect the two.

Otshata was quite as much interested in the young stranger as was her sister, but in another way. She thought him very handsome, which Aeana would not admit, and secretly rejoiced in the helplessness that depended so largely upon her gentle ministrations. She had the motherly instinct that found pleasure in self-sacrifice, and from the first constituted herself chief nurse of the stricken youth.

For a long time it was doubtful if Nahma would ever recover from the illness by which he was prostrated; but after it finally took a turn for the better he began rapidly to mend. On the day that he first ventured outside the lodge into the freedom of open air there was much rejoicing in the little family, but it was tinged with sadness. Although weak and emaciated from his long sickness, he was still a goodly youth to look upon, and gave promise of speedily regaining his physical powers; but his mind was that of a child. He could neither tell nor remember anything of his former life, even its language was lost to him, and he could converse only in such words of the Iroquois tongue as he had acquired from his present associates. As he could not tell them his name, they called him "Massasoit," from the word he had most frequently uttered during his delirium, and this he accepted as readily as he did all else that they offered him.

While thus compelled to relearn everything that required mental effort, it was soon discovered that he had lost none of his cunning in matters calling for physical strength or skill. He could still shoot an arrow or hurl a spear with unerring aim, was rarely at fault on the dimmest trail, and proved himself an adept in such branches of Indian handiwork as usually fell to the share of warriors, such as the fashioning of weapons or the building of canoes. He soon regained a muscular strength even greater than that with which he had been endowed before his illness, while his fleetness of foot excited the wonder of his friends.

With all this Nahma was gentle and submissive to authority, a trait that aroused the utmost scorn in the mind of Aeana. From the time his mental weakness was discovered this high-spirited girl treated him as she would a child, bidding him come or go, fetch or carry, according as she felt inclined, and apparently she despised him for his ready obedience to her orders. He, on the other hand, regarded her with an intense admiration and sought in every way to win her favor. All his trophies of the chase were laid at her feet only to be contemptuously rejected or flung to Otshata. In the latter, however, the young man found a friend to whom his misfortune appealed so keenly that she treated him with unwearied kindness and tenderest consideration. He called her "sister," a term that he dared not apply to Aeana, and poured all his troubles into her sympathetic ear.

One day Nahma returned hot and weary from a chase that had lasted many hours and presented a noble stag to Aeana. Without taking notice of the gift, and careless of his evident weariness, she bade him fetch her water from the spring. As he willingly departed on this mission she regarded him with curling lip, and when he returned bearing a large earthen jar of water that he set before her, she promptly overturned it so that its contents were spilled. At the same time she uttered the single word "squaw" with an accent of utter contempt and entered the lodge, leaving him bewildered and mortified.

Walking slowly towards the river, he discovered Otshata seated in a shaded nook on its bank embroidering a moccasin with painted quills.

"My sister, why does Aeana hate me?" he asked, as he flung himself despondently on the turf beside her.

"She hates thee not, my brother," replied the other, interrupting her work to look at him.

"Truly she does. In every word and by every act she shows her dislike," declared Nahma, bitterly. "She would be glad never to see me more, and I will go away rather than remain longer to displease her by my presence."

"Speak not of such a thing!" exclaimed Otshata. "Whither would you go, and what should we do without our hunter? If Aeana seems to treat thee unkindly, it is only to inspire thee with a braver spirit. She likes it not that one come to the estate of a warrior should tamely serve her. She would have thee do brave deeds, and also she would have thee remember thy past. Canst thou not do this, and by hard thinking recall some one thing? Who was thy father? Who struck the cruel blow that so nearly ended thy life? Who are thy people? Are they the Saganaga of the south, the Oneidas of the west, or wast thou born among the fish-eaters who dwell in the country of sunrising? I will not ask if thou hast Huron blood in thy veins; for in spite of thy moccasins I feel assured that thou art not of that wicked people."

By this reference Otshata recalled the fact that, when found wounded in the river sedge, Nahma had on his feet a pair of Huron-made moccasins procured in the village of Peace to replace others worn out by his journey; but of these he could give no account.

"I strive to remember," declared the youth, vehemently. "Night and day, sleeping and waking, I think till my head seems like to burst, but 'tis of no use. The only life that I know is here, and if I have had another, it is gone from me like a dream of the black hours. So it is well that I should go away, and if these Hurons be thy enemies and the enemies of Aeana, then will I go and fight against them that she may no longer despise and hate me."

"No, no!" cried Otshata. "Think not of the war-path, my brother. The Hurons are very fierce and terrible and cruel. Also they are so filled with evil designs that only the wisest and most experienced warriors may hope for success against them. Thee they would easily kill; or, what is worse, they would take advantage of thy simplicity to adopt thee and make thee sharer of their wickedness."

At this point the conversation was interrupted by a summons from Kaweras bidding Massasoit come to him quickly.

While it had been comparatively easy to keep secret the presence of a stranger in the lodge of Kaweras during his illness, it became impossible to do so after he was out and about. So a knowledge of the mysterious youth who could remember nothing of his past speedily became noised abroad, and many persons, attracted by curiosity, came to see him. The victim of these interviews dreaded them so intensely that he spent much time in remote forest depths to avoid them. Now, however, he was fairly caught, and going reluctantly to the lodge, followed at a distance by Otshata, he found himself in the presence of a distinguished-looking chieftain who was seated on a robe beside Kaweras. Behind them stood a group of warriors. As Nahma drew near the eyes of all these were fixed intently upon him, though no word was spoken until he paused within a few paces of his host.

CHAPTER VII NAHMA JOINS A WAR-PARTY

"Massasoit," said Kaweras, as the young man regarded him inquiringly, "I would have plumes from Ke-neu, the great eagle, to make a war-bonnet. He waits yonder for an invitation to come to us. Can you persuade him?"

With this the speaker pointed upward to where a golden eagle, attracted by a bait of raw flesh placed temptingly at some distance from the lodge, circled on motionless pinions.

Glancing in the direction indicated, Nahma stepped within the lodge, from which he quickly reappeared bearing a bow and three arrows. Again taking his station in front of Kaweras, he stood for a moment motionless, watching intently the movements of the eagle, that still circled slowly downward. One arrow was fitted to the bowstring, while the other two were stuck in the ground before him. Suddenly the youth lifted his weapon and let fly its feathered dart. Then he shot twice more with such marvellous rapidity of motion that the third arrow was leaving the bow ere the first had reached its mark. As the spectators uttered an involuntary exclamation of amazement, the great bird, evidently stricken to its death, plunged dizzily downward with feebly beating wings.

"Bring it," said the sachem, addressing those who stood behind him, and each taking the command to himself, all sprang away in a breathless race for the trophy.

"Do thou bring it," said Kaweras to Nahma.

Instantly the young bowman darted forward with such amazing swiftness that, despite the distance already gained by the others, he overtook and passed them ere they could reach the coveted goal. As he picked up the dead bird and bore it back the others made way for him, nor did one offer to take from him the prize that he had thus twice won. As he laid it at the feet of Kaweras the bird was seen to be transfixed by three arrows.

"The young man should be named Sharp-eye, Quick-hand, and Swift-foot," exclaimed the visiting sachem, who was none other than Sacandaga, "for he has proved himself to excel the best of my warriors in all these things. Not until this day have I believed the tales told me touching his skill; but now I know them to have been less than the truth. If he be as fearless as he is quick he should take high rank as a warrior. How say you, Massasoit? Will you go with me and my young men to do battle with the Hurons, who are reported to have taken the war-path against us?"

For a moment the youth hesitated. He glanced at the old arrow-maker, whose features were unmoved and who made no sign. Then he looked towards Otshata, whose face showed her distress and who made an imploring gesture for him to decline the offer. Finally he turned to Aeana, who stood motionless and with averted gaze, but her attitude and expression were unmistakable. They said as plainly as words, "He is a squaw and dares not face the war-path."

In an instant Nahma's resolution was taken, and he answered Sacandaga, saying,—

"I am without experience of the war-path, nor have I knowledge of any people save only of these, my father and my sisters. If, however, these Hurons be the enemies of Kaweras and of his daughters, then will I gladly go with thee to fight against them."

"It is well," replied Sacandaga, greatly pleased to have gained so promising a recruit. "Spend thou the night with my young men, who will instruct thee concerning many things, and in the morning will we set forth."

Some hours later, when the camp-fires had burned low and the recumbent forms gathered about them were buried in slumber, two men issued silently from the lodge of Kaweras and made their way to a secluded spot on the river-bank, where they believed they might discuss weighty matters without danger of being overheard. They were Sacandaga and the old arrow-maker, and when they had gained the place they sought the latter broke the silence by saying,—

"It is now many days since I became aware that Sacandaga proposed to honor my poor lodge by a visit. Also am I informed of his object in coming, though he has told it to no man."

"How may such a thing be?" asked the other.

"To all men come dreams, but to a few only is given the power of understanding them," replied Kaweras. "The many dream dreams and forget them on waking. Some indeed recall them and make vain efforts to comprehend their meaning; but to Kaweras a dream speaks a language as easy of understanding as the signs of the forest or the voices of birds that dwell among its branches."

"So I have heard, and for that reason have I come to thee," said Sacandaga. "Tell me, then, what is my desire and if it may be accomplished."

"The Hurons are reported to be gathering on the war-path leading to the country of the Iroquois, and thy desire is to proceed with such promptness against them that they may be surprised and destroyed while still in their own territory. Then would you descend on their villages and wipe them out, that the power of our enemies may be broken forever."

"That is indeed a hope that I have cherished, but always in secret, and for my brother to know of it is proof that I have not done wrong in coming to him for advice," said Sacandaga. "How, then, Kaweras, will this plan of mine succeed, and shall we thus rid ourselves of the wolves whose howling has so long troubled our ears?"

The prophet hesitated before making reply. Then he said slowly, "Sometimes the dream-pictures are so plenty and come so quickly that it is hard to make out one from another, as it is hard to understand the words of one man when many are talking. I see a fight. In it are Maquas and Hurons. The Maquas chase their enemies and kill them. It is morning and the sun is shining. Also with this picture I see another battle in which the Hurons are overcoming the Maquas and taking many prisoners. In this one is thunder and lightning, by which many are killed. Which is the true picture I know not, nor how to advise my brother concerning them."

"Then will I interpret and tell thee their meaning," exclaimed Sacandaga. "Both are true, and their meaning is this. I and my young men are to go on the war-path against the Huron dogs and will surely encounter them. If we do so on a fair morning when there is no sign of storm in the air, then shall we overcome them and wipe them from the face of the earth. If we should meet them in the morning and delay an attack until later in the day, then would the Great Spirit grow angry and send his lightnings to destroy us. It is well, my brother. I will remember to seek the enemy on a fair morning and avoid him on a day of storm. Now I would ask thee one more question. What do thy dreams tell of the young man who is called Massasoit?"

"This only," answered Kaweras, "that he is the son of a chieftain, and will himself become a leader of men, wiser even and more powerful than his father."

"But who is his father?"

"I know not, though of late I have come to a suspicion that this young man may be Nahma, the missing son of Longfeather."

"That cannot be, for I have had dealings with the son of Longfeather and know that he and this youth are not one person."

"Did not that one also claim to be a son of Canonicus?"

"He did so claim."

"Then he may have spoken falsely; for Uncas, the Mohican, hath lately sent me word that Nahma and Miantinomo are two separate persons, holding no love for each other and having nothing in common."

"If the words of Uncas should prove true and it shall appear that I have been led falsely into a treaty with Canonicus, then shall the wrath of Sacandaga fall upon the Narragansetts even as one destroys a serpent that has stung him. I will look closely into the matter when I have returned from dealing with the Hurons. Until then it is well that I keep this young man where I may watch over him."

In the mean time the youth under discussion had just passed the pleasantest evening his short memory could recall. He was like a boy brought up in a nursery with only girls for companions, at length set free and for the first time admitted to the company of men. He had no recollection of companions of his own age and sex, so that the young warriors who now welcomed him to their ranks were revelations as surprising as they were interesting.

How much they knew, and what wonderful things they told him! At the same time how delightful was it to listen to their praise of his own accomplishments! Until now he had not known that he possessed accomplishments, but supposed that every one could shoot and run equally well with himself. He could not remember having learned to do these things, nor had he found occasion since entering the lodge of Kaweras to test his skill in them against that of others. Now, therefore, he was surprised as well as pleased to find himself in the position of a hero on account of abilities that he had heretofore regarded as commonplace.

So pleasant was the evening thus spent with his new companions that when Sacandaga gave the signal for conversation to cease that his young men might sleep and so prepare for an early start on the morrow, Nahma was filled with eager anticipations of the new life opening before him, and already wondered how he could have been content with that passed in the lodge of Kaweras.

With the earliest promise of dawn he was first of all the sleeping warriors to spring to his feet and begin preparations for departure. Such as he had to make were few and simple, but to him they were of vast importance. New moccasins and leggings of buckskin, a light robe of soft furs in which to wrap himself at night, and a wing feather from the great eagle for his head completed his list of personal belongings. Besides these he would take a bow and the quiver of fine flint-headed arrows that Kaweras presented to him that morning, his stone hatchet or tomahawk, and the copper scalping-knife that was his sole relic of a former but unremembered life. Also he must furnish to the general stock of provisions a large, close-woven basket of parched corn.

By sunrise a meal had been hastily eaten and everything was in readiness for the setting forth of the war-party. Kaweras embraced Nahma and bade him make for himself a name. Tears streamed down the cheeks of Otshata as she bade him farewell and pressed into his hands a pair of daintily embroidered moccasins as a token of remembrance. The youth looked on all sides for Aeana, but she was nowhere to be seen. Only after his canoe was well out on the river and he glanced back for a farewell view of the place that had been to him a home did he see, standing on a slight elevation and gazing in his direction, a solitary figure that he knew to be that of the girl who scorned him.

Some days later he found tucked down in the toe of one of Otshata's moccasins an exquisite little tinder-bag of softest fawn-skin that he had last seen hanging from the shapely neck of Aeana.

CHAPTER VIII TWO YOUNG SCOUTS

For two days did Sacandaga's little expedition proceed up the Shatemuc, now making tedious carries around roaring waterfalls, and again laboriously hauling their laden canoes up some stretch of tumultuous rapids. At one of these places Sacandaga, bidding Nahma accompany him, left the river and made his way swiftly along a broad trail that led to the westward. After following it for a while they came to a place of many springs delightfully shaded by giant trees. Although no human being was to be seen, there were on all sides remnants of former encampments. Also the ground about certain of the springs was worn bare by innumerable hoof-prints, showing that deer and other animals were accustomed to gather here in great numbers. Deeply marked trails leading from every direction centred here, as though the springs formed a meeting-place for all people.

As Nahma noted these things Sacandaga smiled at his expression of astonishment. "It is Sara Tioga, the place of healing," he said. "To it come all who are sick or suffer pain that they may drink of the medicine waters and be cured. Many would be here now but for the report that an enemy is coming this way. When we have wiped him out then will we return hither, that we may rejoice with feasting and dancing. At that time will be seen a great gathering of the Iroquois, for this is the place of all their places that they most love. Now, however, we may tarry only long enough to drink of the life-giving waters and then must we hasten forward. In drinking take careful note of the spring most offensive to thy taste, for thus may be discovered which one is most needful to thy well-being."

So Nahma drank of all the springs, finding some of them salt, some sparkling with effervescence, and others so nauseous that he turned from them in disgust.

"I like none of them and will drink no more," he finally declared.

"Then must all of them be for thy good and thou must stand in need of all the elements they contain," answered his companion, who cared to hear naught but praise of his beloved springs. "But let us go, for we have no time to lose."

As they turned to depart from the beautiful place, Nahma suddenly sprang upon his companion with such violence that Sacandaga was hurled to the ground and the young man fell with him. At the same moment an arrow was buried to its shaft in the trunk of a beech a few paces in front of them, where it stood quivering with the force that had sped it. Even as he fell Nahma bounded up, and an instant later, when the startled sachem also gained his feet, he saw the young warrior darting back in the direction from which they had just come.

At the same time a third figure hideously daubed with war-paint appeared in plain view. He stood directly in front of the rash youth with bended bow and a second arrow drawn to its head. Quick as thought Nahma dropped, and the feathered missile flew harmlessly above him. As he again leaped to his feet his assailant turned to fly, but ere he had taken half a dozen steps he sprang convulsively into the air and plunged headlong with outstretched arms. An arrow sped from Sacandaga's bow had passed through his body.

"Why did you kill him?" asked Nahma, regretfully, as the two stood together looking down on the still twitching body of their late foe.

"Is it not what my young brother would have done?" inquired Sacandaga, in surprise.

"No; I would have caught him and made him tell me things."

"What things?"

"Why he hid from us and tried to kill us, who he was, and what he was doing here. I do not remember seeing him among thy young men."

Sacandaga smiled grimly. "He seems to have escaped being seen until he came within range of Quick-eye's vision; but all thy questions may be answered in a word. He is a Huron."

"A Huron!" cried Nahma. "How may that be, when he looks like other men? I thought a Huron was a wolf. Surely my father has said so."

"A Huron is a wolf in spirit," replied Sacandaga, as he stooped and deftly removed the dead man's scalp, "but the wolfish spirit is concealed beneath the semblance of a man."

"Then how may one know a Huron?" asked the puzzled youth.

"By his paint, his moccasins, the cut of his scalp-lock, the fashion of his weapons, his cast of feature, and by a thousand other signs as plain as the difference between light and darkness."

All these things had once been well known to Nahma; but now they were as though he had never before heard of them, and he listened eagerly to the words of Sacandaga's lesson.

"This time," concluded the sachem, "my young brother has done well, and to his quickness of sight combined with promptness of action do I owe my life. But never again, my son, run openly upon an enemy without first knowing his strength. It is seldom that a Huron spy comes alone into the Iroquois country, and had there been others, or even one other, with this one, thy death had been certain. Always when surprised seek first a place of hiding from which to discover the strength of thy enemy and plan for meeting him."

The Huron scout who had just paid the penalty of his daring was one of two sent to discover if the Iroquois had knowledge concerning the projected invasion of their country. His companion had remained with their canoe at the upper end of Andia-ta-roc-te (Lake George) while he had penetrated the country as far as the springs of healing, where, if the Iroquois felt themselves secure from invasion, he was certain to discover a number of their lodges. He was greatly disappointed at finding the place unoccupied, and was about to retrace his steps with the information that an alarm had been given, when Sacandaga and his young companion appeared on the scene. Hiding like a snake in the grass, the Huron watched these two with longing eyes while waiting to see if they would be followed by others. He recognized Sacandaga, and was determined if possible to carry back with him the scalp of that redoubtable chieftain.

An opportunity came as his enemies turned to depart, and he cautiously brought his bow into position. At that instant Nahma, glancing back, caught sight of a tip of the weapon projecting above the tall grasses and did the only thing possible to save his companion's life.

As the fortunate survivors of this episode left the scene of its occurrence they took a path leading northward, and after a time came again to the Shatemuc, having cut off a great bend of the river that the canoes must necessarily follow. As they went they discovered the slight trail left by the Huron scout, but at the river it was lost. Wading to the opposite bank, Nahma soon recovered it, and asked permission to follow it farther; but Sacandaga would not grant this until the arrival of the canoes. Then, after briefly relating what had happened, he selected a young warrior already famous as a trailer and ordered him to accompany Nahma over the path the Huron had come. This warrior was named Ah-mik-pan-pin, or the Grinning Beaver, on account of two prominent front teeth over which his lips were never wholly closed.

"Have a care," said Sacandaga on parting with the young men, "and run no risks for the sake of scalps. What I desire is a knowledge of the party to which that Huron belonged. I would know how large it is, where it is camped, and whether it is coming or going. Find out these things as quickly as may be and come again with thy news. The Maquas will sleep to-night at the foot of the great rock by the shore of the wide waters. They will have no fire and will make no sound, but he who utters the cry of wah-o-nai-sa (the whippoorwill) twice and then once will be answered by the same cry once and then twice. Go thou and come again quickly."

With this Nahma and Grinning Beaver set forth, and were instantly lost to view in the thickness of the forest. For two hours they sped forward without a pause, then they began to see spaces of light through the trees, and the Beaver intimated that they must now exercise the greatest caution.

"This trail will not lead us to them," he whispered, "for they will have moved to one side or the other after their runner left. Let us, then, go separately to the water's edge, thou on the one side and I on the other. Whoever reaches the beach first shall utter the cry of wah-o-nai-sa, and if it be not quickly answered he shall return to see what is wrong. Is it well?"

"It is well," replied Nahma, and the two went their respective ways as agreed.

With the utmost caution and without a sound louder than his own breathing did Nahma circle towards the lighted space marking the limit of the forest. All at once he stopped and listened. From behind him, faint and distant, he had heard an unmistakable exclamation of surprise.

It was not repeated nor did he hear further sounds, but it was enough, and after a moment of listening he started back over the way he had come. He found the place where he had parted from his companion, and then followed the slight trail made by the latter. Suddenly and without warning he came upon a sight so startling that he stood in his tracks like one petrified, gazing at it with dilated eyes.

Two warriors locked in a deadly embrace lay motionless on the ground. Their surroundings were drenched with blood, and to all appearance both were dead. Nahma stooped over them, and saw to his horror that one of the faces, so swollen and distorted that he had not sooner recognized it, was that of his recent comrade. The other was a Huron, and a knife still clutched by the Beaver's hand was buried to the hilt in his heart. At the same time his own fingers held the throat of the young Iroquois with a grip like that of a vise.

It required all of Nahma's strength to unlock that death-clutch, but at length he succeeded, and the two mortal foes so recently thrilled with vigorous life lay side by side stark and rigid.

CHAPTER IX ON THE LAKE

Nahma gazed about him in dismay. Night was coming on, he was alone in a place of which he had no knowledge, and he believed himself surrounded by enemies. He even fancied he could see dark faces peering at him from behind the shadowy tree-trunks. Above all, the companion upon whom he had relied for guidance and counsel lay dead at his feet. Although a savage himself, accustomed only to savage sights and ways, our lad had seen so little of death that this last fact seemed incredible. He kneeled beside the Beaver and gazed into his face, calling him by name in a low voice and bidding him open his eyes.

As he did this the dreadful aspect of the face on which he was looking suggested another that he had seen but a week earlier. It had been that of a man drowned in the Shatemuc and brought to the lodge of Kaweras. To all appearance he was dead, and yet the old arrow-maker had restored him to life. Nahma remembered perfectly what was done at that time, for he had closely watched every operation, and had even assisted Kaweras in his efforts. Now, in his despair over the present situation, but feeling that he could not yield to it without making some attempt at its betterment, he set to work upon the Beaver exactly as Kaweras had done with the drowned man. He turned the body on its face, drew forward the tongue, and cleared the mouth of froth. Then by rolling the body on its side and back again, at the same time applying a gentle pressure to back and breast, he forced air into and expelled it again from the lungs, thus producing an artificial breathing. After that he sought to restore circulation by rubbing upward along the legs. In all his efforts he was without hope of success and only worked for the sake of doing something. He was therefore utterly amazed as well as overjoyed to detect in his patient a slight gasping for breath. He could scarcely believe he had heard aright until it was repeated, and then he knew that the Beaver was still to be counted among those who lived.

Without thought of the danger from probable enemies, Nahma sprang to his feet, started towards the lake for water, and had gone half-way before he recalled that he had nothing in which to fetch it. Upon this he ran back, and picking up the still unconscious form of his companion, staggered to the beach with it in his arms. On his way he ran across a canoe concealed in a clump of bushes, but paid no attention to it for the moment.

As he laid his burden on the sand and glanced up to see if they were still safe from the presence of enemies, he detected a vague form some distance up the beach that disappeared within the forest even as he looked. It must of course be a Huron warrior, and doubtless others were with him. In that case to remain where they were meant certain destruction, and there was but one way to save his helpless companion as well as himself. The canoe that he had just discovered would at least bear them away from the treacherous forest and give them a fighting chance for their lives in the open.

In another minute Nahma had launched the light craft, placed his comrade inside, and was paddling furiously out over the lake. He had not gone more than one hundred yards when a series of yells from behind, and a flight of arrows sent with deadly intent, showed that his escape was discovered. Most of the arrows fell short, and none of them inflicted any damage. At the same time Nahma, glancing back, thought he saw other canoes coming down the coast.

It was now so nearly dark that all objects were indistinct, and if he could only maintain his lead for a short time longer he might still evade his pursuers. So the tired youth infused new energy into his paddling and urged his craft forward with redoubled speed. As he knew nothing of the lake, he had no idea where to look for the great rock beside which Sacandaga was to spend the night, nor was the Beaver in any condition to afford him information. So he held a course as far as possible from both shores and continued his paddling until nearly midnight, when he was forced by sheer exhaustion to give it over.

Dark as was the night, our lad could still distinguish the darker forms of occasional islands as he passed them, and at length drawing cautiously in towards one of these, he made a landing. In all this time the Beaver had been slowly struggling back to life, but he was still devoid of strength or a knowledge of his surroundings. So Nahma prepared as well as he could a bed of branches and grass, to which he bore his comrade. He also dragged up the canoe and turned it on its side to provide shelter from a drizzle of chill rain that was beginning to fall. Having completed these simple preparations, the youth ate a handful of parched corn drawn from his wallet, and lying down beside the Beaver was almost instantly fast asleep.

In regard to the necessaries of life the American of that day was in no degree removed from the beasts of the field. Like them he could thrive upon the natural products of the forest, and he also found its shelters sufficient for his needs even in the most inclement weather. With materials for a feast at hand he feasted; but when they were lacking he went without food uncomplainingly and for incredible lengths of time. If in the present instance our lad had dared allow himself the luxury of a fire he would quickly have acquired all the comforts of a home, including an abundance of cooked food, a good bed, warmth, and light. As it was he accepted cold, wet, hunger, and a most uncomfortable resting-place as things liable to be encountered at any time in the ordinary course of events.

The remainder of the night passed without incident, and by dawn Nahma was once more alert. His first move was to climb a tall tree that stood close at hand and take a comprehensive survey of the lake. Seeing it thus for the first time by daylight, he was impressed by its marvellous beauty. Its blue waters were dotted with islands all wooded and blending every shade of green. On both sides forest-covered hills rose abruptly from the shore, and back of them towered mountains higher than any he had ever seen. The lake was nowhere more than a mile or two in width, and to the northward it narrowed rapidly.

Having gazed as long as he dared on the outspread beauties of the scene, and satisfied himself that nothing was in motion on the face of the waters, the youth descended from his observatory and proceeded to make ready a breakfast. He was tired of parched corn, and his ravenous appetite demanded something more substantial. He even decided to run the risk of a fire. So he gathered a small quantity of dry, hard wood that would burn with the least amount of smoke, and, after an exasperating struggle with flints and tinder, caught a spark that was finally fanned into a brisk blaze. With the making of a fire the hardest part of his breakfast-getting was ended, although he had as yet nothing to cook. Five minutes later, however, he was in possession of a large pickerel and two good-sized bass, all of which had been enticed within striking distance of his arrows by a bait of worms. These fish wrapped in green leaves were buried under a bed of coals, and while they were cooking Nahma gathered berries.

When all was in readiness, he was vastly disappointed to find that his companion was unable to share in the meal. The Beaver had so far recovered that he was able to sit up and take an intelligent interest in what was going on. The expression of longing with which he regarded those baked fish left no doubt that he, too, was hungry; but, alas! he could not swallow food. His throat was so swollen that he could not even speak, and he still breathed with difficulty. He was so parched with thirst that he managed after a painful struggle to swallow a few drops of water, but that was all.

So Nahma was reluctantly obliged to eat alone while his companion watched him enviously. As he ate, the former told what he knew concerning the events of the preceding evening, and the Beaver learned for the first time that they were on an island far down the lake in hiding from a war-party of Hurons. He had wondered at finding himself alone with Nahma instead of in Sacandaga's company, but had supposed that they were within a short distance of the great rock, as he knew had been the case when they first gained the lake-shore. His distress at being unable to ask questions and express his views on the situation was so evident as to suggest a possible remedy, upon which Nahma immediately set to work. First he stripped some sheets of bark from a white birch, and with them fashioned a rude but water-tight bowl that would hold about a gallon. This he partially filled with water. In the mean time he had thrown into the fire some large beach pebbles, and these were now thoroughly heated. Lifting them with forked sticks and dropping them into the bowl, he almost instantly had hot water, with which he bade the Beaver bathe his throat.

While the latter was doing this Nahma bethought himself to climb once more into his observatory for another look at the lake. As he gained the highest available branch and glanced back over the way they had come he uttered an exclamation of dismay. Not more than two miles distant was a fleet of canoes advancing directly towards him. He could plainly see the flash of their paddles and note their movements as they separated or closed together. There was no doubt but that the enemy from whom he had fled was again close upon him, and to remain on that island meant certain discovery, since no Indian would pass a fire without finding out by whom it had been kindled. To leave the island and make for the mainland on either side was out of the question, for their moving canoe would surely be discovered. Thus the only thing remaining to be done was to proceed straight down the lake, with the hope of gaining another place of concealment while still hidden by the island from those who came behind.

With this plan formed our young warrior hastily descended the tree, told his companion that the Hurons were again in hot pursuit, and bundled him into the canoe ere he had time to gain further information. Then Nahma gave him a paddle and told him that if he valued his life he must put forth whatever of strength he had remaining.

CHAPTER X AN OKI OF THE WATERS

As Nahma had intended remaining on the island until his companion fully recovered from his injuries, he had not hurried with anything that he had done that morning. Consequently it was mid-day when the flight was resumed and the fugitives again headed their canoe down the lake, keeping the island directly behind them as a screen from their pursuers. Although working furiously at his paddle, Nahma glanced behind him every few moments, and as time passed was amazed that the enemy did not come into sight.

At length, after a couple of hours of incessant labor, the canoe rounded a bold headland that nearly cut the lake in twain, and was hidden behind it from any who might be following. Here the lake was very narrow, and Nahma proposed that they should run the canoe ashore, hide it, and seek to rejoin their friends by land.

"No," said the Beaver, who had recovered his power of speech. "If the Hurons are following us, they will surely have scouts in the forest on both sides. We should be certain to fall in with these, and I am not yet ready for fighting. Now that we have come thus far by water, let us keep on. At a short distance from here this lake ends, but it is joined to another much larger. On that other a canoe may go north even to the country of the Hurons. It may also go south to the land of the Iroquois. Let us, then, find the big water and turn to the south, for if those following us be Hurons they will certainly hold a course to the northward."

"We will do as my brother says," replied Nahma, delighted to have again the counsel of his more experienced companion. So the course of the canoe was continued, but only Nahma now wielded a paddle. The Beaver had been so much benefited by hot-water applications and by the subsequent exercise of paddling that his throat was again serviceable. Not only could he talk but he believed he could eat, and as Nahma had brought along one of the three fish caught for breakfast, he made the attempt with such gratifying success that it quickly disappeared. Being thus refreshed and strengthened, he began to question his companion concerning the events of the preceding night.

When Nahma related the finding of the two mortal enemies clutched in a death-grapple the Beaver said,—

"It is so. As I saw the Huron he saw me, and we sprang at each other with our knives, for we were too close to use bows or even the tomahawk. His knife broke, and as I drove mine into his body his fingers closed about my throat. Ugh! It was the grip of a bear, and I could not loose it. Again and again did I bury my knife in his heart, but he would not let go. Then all became black and I died. How my brother brought me back from the place of Okis [departed spirits] I know not, but when next I awoke he lay beside me under a canoe and a band as of fire was about my head. Now, therefore, the life of Grinning Beaver belongs to his brother. But tell me quickly how knew you we were pursued by Hurons? There were traces of but two of them, while many of our own people were to meet Sacandaga at the great rock."

"I know that our pursuers are Hurons, or at least enemies, because they crept on us by stealth. Also when they saw we had escaped they yelled with rage and shot arrows to kill us. Besides that, they followed after us in canoes, and but for the coming of darkness would surely have overtaken us."

"Is it certain that they shot after us with arrows?"

"It is certain, for one of them struck the canoe and lies even yet where it fell. So my brother may see for himself and know that I have spoken truly."

The Beaver plucked the arrow thus indicated from the sheathing of the canoe in which its point was embedded and examined it closely. As he did so a puzzled expression came over his face, and he exclaimed,—

"But this is not a Huron arrow! It is of the Iroquois, and might have been made by Kaweras himself. Look. As a bowman thou shouldst know this fashion of feathering."

"I do know it," replied Nahma, taking the proffered arrow as he spoke and studying its make. "Also I should have recognized it sooner had I looked, but it fell in darkness, and since then I have been too busy to recall it until now."

"If this was the only style of arrow aimed at us," continued the Beaver, "those who pursue us must be friends, who have in turn mistaken us for enemies."

"It would seem so," agreed Nahma, in a mortified tone, "and it is to my shame that I should have shown so great stupidity."

"Take it not to heart, my brother. No warrior may learn his trade save by experience. What you have done has been well done, and no harm has come of it. Only now that we know those behind us to be friends, we must look sharply for enemies in front and see that our friends come not upon them unaware."

"Shall we not turn back at once," asked Nahma, "and give to Sacandaga a warning of the true state of affairs?"

"Not at once, but presently," replied the Beaver, "for we are even now close to the great waters of which I spoke. It will be well, therefore, if we take a look at them before turning back. We may thus have news to report that will cause him to rejoice at sight of us."

During this conversation Nahma had continued to paddle easily, and the canoe had glided gently forward with the current of a forest-shaded stream forming an outlet to the lake they had just traversed. As the Beaver concluded his remarks the roar of falling waters ahead of them gave warning that their farther progress in this direction was barred. So the canoe was left cunningly as though it had drifted to that place, and the two young scouts made their way through a mile-wide strip of forest to the shore of a second lake that lay behind. Here they gazed eagerly out over the wide water-way, but for a moment saw nothing unusual. As they were about to venture into the open, Nahma checked the movement with a guarded exclamation of amazement. A human figure had suddenly appeared on the crest of a headland that jutted into the lake a short distance from them, and for several seconds it stood motionless in the full light of the westering sun, as though spell-bound by the beauty of the outspread landscape.

Although it presented the form of man, it was unlike anything either of the astonished observers had ever seen. It appeared twice the size of an ordinary man, and at certain points it glinted in the sunlight with a sheen like that of rippling waters. Its head, upon which the sunlight also flashed, was of huge proportions and apparently devoid of hair.

"It is an Oki," whispered the Beaver, apprehensively. "A god of the waters. See you not how he shines with wetness?"

Even as the Beaver spoke, a second figure appeared for an instant beside the one at which the awe-stricken youths were gazing. It was that of a man like themselves, half-naked, painted, and bedecked with feathers. This last apparition plucked the other by the arm and they disappeared together.

Our young scouts looked at each other in wonderment. "We must know more of this affair," said the Beaver. "Let us move in that direction and see what may be found."

A few minutes later, moving with the utmost caution, they had reached a point from which they could look beyond the headland. There they beheld a scene that held their gaze with breathless interest, and, crouching beneath the overhanging branches of a thick-growing spruce, they watched it in silence.

The sun was setting and its light was growing dim, but they could see a fleet of canoes drawn up on the lake-shore, and beyond them many men moving busily about a large cleared space. They could not discover among these the strange figure that had first attracted their attention, nor was there any glow of fire-light.

The Beaver drew in his breath as though about to speak, but Nahma checked him with warning hand, and at the same instant a twig snapped directly behind them. The young scouts dared not so much as move their heads, but from the corners of their eyes they caught glimpses of four shadowy forms that flitted noiselessly by and vanished in the direction from which they themselves had come. They were Hurons seeking to make certain before the complete shutting in of night that no enemy lurked in the vicinity of their camp.

For several minutes after these had passed our lads remained motionless and silent. Then the Beaver rose and moved without a sound in the direction taken by the Huron scouts, while Nahma, his nerves tense with excitement, followed the lead thus given. Neither spoke until finally they came again to the place where they had left their canoe. To their dismay, it was gone, but the Beaver said in a whisper,—

"It is well for us that it is of Huron make, so that they may think it was left by those of their own people who were sent ahead. Now let us find Sacandaga, for we have much to tell him."

The task of making their unlit way back along the shore of the stream they had so recently descended without effort was beset with many difficulties. They must keep close to the river, for not only was it their guide but by it sooner or later their friends were almost certain to pass. They must thread the forest mazes in silence, and they must pause with every minute to listen for the dip of paddles. Even then Sacandaga's canoes might drift by them unseen and unheard. But a warning must be given, if such a thing were possible, and in spite of all obstacles they pushed steadily forward.

At length they came to a place where the stream began to broaden. They had gained the lower end of Andia-ta-roc-te and dared go no farther. So they waited while Nahma uttered full and clear the plaintive call of the whippoorwill. Twice did he repeat it, and then once more after a brief interval.

CHAPTER XI THE COMING OF SACANDAGA

As the concluding notes of Nahma's cry echoed over the still waters and were lost among the distant hills, the two youths listened anxiously for an answer. Nor had they long to wait, for within a minute the call of a whippoorwill came back to them almost exactly as the young warrior had uttered it; but it came from the wrong direction.

"Sacandaga has passed us after all," muttered Nahma in a tone of vexation.

"Not so," replied the Beaver, "for that was not the answer agreed upon. Do you not remember? The call was to be two and then one, while the answer was to be one and then two. This answer came back even as the call was given, and so could not have been made by Sacandaga or any of his warriors."

"Who, then——?" began Nahma, but he was interrupted by a quavering note of ko-ko-anse (the little screech-owl) that came from no great distance.

"It is a Huron call," whispered the Beaver; "answer it quickly." This Nahma did, and the Beaver continued, "They are on the water and will come to this point for further information. Do you remain here and take care that they discover not thy presence. I will retire a little and entice them or some of them to me, for I can speak the Huron tongue. After that we must be guided by what will follow. Is it well?"

"It is well," whispered Nahma, as he crouched low beside a log, one end of which extended into the water. He did not hear the Beaver take his departure, but knew that he was gone. Then from off the river, but close at hand, came again the tremulous cry of ko-ko-anse. It was answered by the Beaver from a short distance inland, who in a voice disguised as though by weakness cried,—

"Help me, brothers. Help me before I die."

"Who calls?" inquired a voice from the water.

"A Huron scout sorely wounded and helpless," answered the Beaver.

"Is he alone?"

"He is alone. There was another with him, but he was killed two days since. Help or I perish."

"Art thou Chebacno or Wabensickewa?"

"I am Wabensickewa. Chebacno was slain by the Iroquois, who are even now making ready a war-party. I hastened back to bring news of it, and landed here to rest until darkness. While I slept a panther leaped on my back. Before I could kill him he had so injured me that I cannot walk. Also are my eyes blinded so that I cannot see. I have a canoe that you will find at the water's edge, if indeed the wind has not drifted it away. I have called many times, and was about to give over calling when your answer came to lend me new strength. Now, then, my brothers, come quickly, for I have much to tell before I die."

A moment later Nahma felt a slight jar pass through the log against which he lay and heard a few whispered words of consultation. Then two figures stepped ashore and, passing so close to him that he could have touched them, noiselessly entered the forest. He waited for a moment and then cautiously lifted his head. Against the faint gleam of water he could distinguish the black bulk of a canoe and see that it still held two other figures who sat motionless. Slowly he raised his bow with a stone-headed arrow fitted to its string until one of the sitting figures was fairly covered. Then he waited with tense muscles and a heart that seemed like to burst with its furious beating. From behind him came a low moaning that he knew was made by the Beaver to deceive his enemies.

Suddenly the oppressive silence was broken by the twang of a bowstring that was instantly followed by fierce yells. High above these rose the defiant war-cry of the Iroquois, but its last note was cut short and ended in a choking gurgle.

Somehow Nahma managed to hear these things, though he was at the same time intensely busy with affairs of his own. At the first intimation of a struggle behind him he had let fly his ready arrow, and one of the two figures in the canoe dropped heavily forward. The other, seeing what he had supposed was a log suddenly endowed with life and leaping towards him, uttered a cry of terror, sprang overboard, and disappeared beneath the black waters. While Nahma tossed the limp form of the other Huron from the canoe preparatory to going in pursuit of this swimmer, a rustling among the bushes warned him to make good his own escape while yet he might, and giving the canoe a great shove, he leaped aboard.

As the craft shot out into the open a voice hailed it from the shore; but as the words were spoken in the Huron tongue, Nahma made no answer. He hesitated for a moment, wondering whether it might not be the Beaver who called; but with a repetition of the demand he knew that that was not the case. He was confirmed in this belief by hearing a slight splash from close at hand, a stifled exclamation, and a few whispered words. Evidently the swimmer who had made so hasty an exit from the canoe had been encouraged by the voice of a friend to gain the land, and now the two were once more in communication.

What had become of the Beaver? Recalling the Iroquois war-cry and its sadly suggestive ending, Nahma had little doubt that he had been overcome and killed. He hated to think of deserting his comrade without knowing for a certainty whether he were alive or dead, and yet to attempt a landing in face of two enemies, and perhaps three, would be an act of folly. His canoe had drifted out so far that they could not see him in his present position, but it would be almost impossible to gain the shore anywhere in that vicinity without detection.

While in this state of indecision, which in reality lasted but a few seconds, he heard faint and far away the cry of a whippoorwill. Twice was it uttered, and then again after a short interval. It must be the signal of Sacandaga, since it came from up the lake. Doubtless it had been made in answer to the Beaver's far-reaching war-cry. In another moment Nahma's canoe, impelled by a noiseless paddle, was speeding in that direction. He dared not at once reply to the signal for fear of drawing a flight of Huron arrows; but as soon as he believed himself beyond range of these he rested on his paddle and sent far across the lake the vibrant cry of wah-o-nai-sa once and then twice.

A full minute elapsed before the answer came, and then he was startled by its nearness. Had he not known better, he would have sworn that it was uttered by a bird in flight while passing directly above him. Allowing his craft to drift, he listened and heard the quick dip of many paddles. A fleet of canoes was rushing towards him, and, as he began to distinguish their vague outlines, he uttered a low call to attract attention.

"Who is it?" demanded the voice of Sacandaga, sharply, as the speed of the oncoming canoes was checked.

"It is Massasoit," answered the lad.

"Where is Grinning Beaver, thy companion? Did he utter the war-cry of the Iroquois that came to us as we were entering our canoes for a night of travel?"

"I fear the Beaver is dead," replied Nahma. "And if so, he was killed even with the sounding of his war-cry."

"Who killed him?" demanded Sacandaga, fiercely.

"The Hurons."

"How many are there?"

"Only four did we encounter. Of these I saw one fall, and believe that the Beaver, who was separated from me, killed another. One leaped into the water and one I know escaped from the Beaver."

"Were you on land or on the water?"

"We were on land, and this is the canoe in which the Hurons came."

"Where did it happen?"

"At the beginning of a river that leads to the wide waters lying towards the rising sun."

"What know you of these wide waters? Have you been to them?"

"Shortly before the coming of darkness were we there, and we turned back to bring news of the war-party that we saw."

"Hurons?"

"Hurons, my father, and like the leaves of a tree for numbers. Also they have with them an Oki to make timid the hearts of their enemies."

"What mean you by an Oki?"

With this Nahma described as well as he could the strange being seen by himself and the Beaver, and all who could get within hearing listened to his words with breathless attention. When Nahma declared that the apparition, though seen on a headland, still gleamed with wetness as though just emerged from the lake, his auditors were deeply impressed. Only Sacandaga was incredulous, and appeared to treat the incident as of small account.

"It is but a Huron trick!" he exclaimed, that all might hear. "They are too cowardly to fight like men, but have prepared an image with the hope that sight of it will turn our blood to water. It is well, though, that we have learned of this thing and know what to expect. Now let us find whether the Beaver is alive or dead, and if the Huron dogs have indeed slain him, bitterly shall he be avenged before we are done with them."

So Nahma guided the Iroquois canoes to the place where he had uttered that first fateful call of the whippoorwill, and Sacandaga, with half a dozen warriors, made a landing on the very log beside which he had lain.

It took them but a few minutes to discover the body of their late comrade cold in death and scalped; but there was no trace of those who had perpetrated the deed. If he had indeed killed one of them, the others had either hidden the body or taken it away.

Having learned these things and thirsting for vengeance, the Iroquois re-entered their canoes and glided silently down-stream towards the place where their enemies were encamped.