After carrying their canoes around the two waterfalls that obstruct the outlet of Lake George, the Iroquois finally glided like so many night-shadows out onto the surface of Lake Champlain. Then, guided by the son of Longfeather, they approached the place where he had seen the Hurons. Sacandaga had entered the canoe of the young scout that he might learn more fully what had happened during the past two days; also his place was in the leading canoe, that from it he might direct the movements of his followers, who were now nearly two hundred in number.
He had thought of attempting a night surprise of the northern invaders by attacking their camp under cover of darkness; but this plan was dismissed almost as soon as formed, for he remembered the prophecy of Kaweras. The fight in which the Iroquois were to be successful must take place in broad daylight and on a fair morning. The battle might not, therefore, be waged at night, nor even on the morrow, unless it were a day of cloudless sunshine. At the same time the Hurons must be given no chance for escape, and to compel them to remain where they were he stationed his force at the mouth of the cove in which lay their fleet. This position was taken in silence and, it was thought, without attracting attention.
That the men from the north had, however, received notice of their enemies' coming and were keenly on the alert to meet them was soon proved by a jeering hail from the land.
"Are the bark-eaters fish that they remain in the water? If they call themselves men, why do they not come on shore and accept the welcome awaiting them?"
To this taunt the Iroquois replied with a chorus of fierce yells and savage intimations of what would happen when they got ready to enter the camp of the Huron dogs.
So the night was spent in a brisk exchange of taunts, jeers, threats, and insulting remarks well calculated to increase the bitterness of the hate already existing between the two tribes. The Iroquois even betrayed their knowledge of the mysterious being whom the Hurons had called to their aid, and expressed the utmost contempt for him. To this those on shore made no reply except to advise the Iroquois to call upon their own gods for the aid they would surely need on the morrow.
"Something has given them courage," remarked Sacandaga, "for never have I known Hurons to talk so bravely in the presence of Iroquois. But we will see whether their boldness can stand the test of daylight."
At length the wished-for dawn arrived, and by its earliest gleams Sacandaga landed his force at a point beyond arrow-shot of the Huron camp and bade them light fires for the preparation of breakfast. He was well aware of the fighting value of a full stomach, and was too wise a leader not to seek every possible advantage even against a foe whom he despised.
Nor were the Hurons less ready to make the most of this opportunity for preparing cooked food, the first time they had dared do so in several days. Thus both parties remained hidden from each other, except through the eyes of their watchful scouts, until the sun was an hour high. Not only did Sacandaga wish to refresh his men by this rest, but he was determined not to begin fighting until assured of conditions propitious to his undertaking. With the weather, however, he had every reason to be pleased, for never was a fairer morn. The sky was cloudless, the air clear and crisp, the lake of a heavenly blue, and all nature was at its best. As he looked about him he became elated over the certainty of his forthcoming victory.
"The Hurons have never yet been able to stand before an equal number of Iroquois," he said, "and to-day with all things in our favor it will be strange indeed if we do not wipe them out. But we may not delay, lest the spirits become angry and send their lightnings to punish our indifference to the favors they have shown. Let us, then, get to work and finish this business quickly, that we may the more speedily return to our own people."
Although Sacandaga was one of the most skilful warriors of his time, and well versed in all the tricks of his trade as practised by forest fighters, he saw fit in the present instance to lead his painted savages to the attack in a compact body. As the Hurons occupied the centre of a large cleared space so wide as to place them beyond the reach of arrows from forest covers, this plan was in a measure forced upon him. At the same time he hoped to overawe the enemy and terrify him by the number and ferocious appearance of his followers. So the Iroquois, half naked, painted, befeathered, decked with bears' claws and wolf-tails, dashed from the forest yelling and brandishing their weapons, and advanced with a rush to where the Hurons awaited them.
The latter appeared terrified, and seemed to shrink from the impending onslaught. Then their solid formation broke, leaving a wide gap, from which stepped a single figure. The Iroquois were not more than fifty paces distant; but at sight of this apparition they came to a sudden halt and stood as though petrified with amazement. The figure confronting them was indeed that described by Massasoit, only it loomed up larger than they had expected, and gleamed with a dazzling lustre in the bright sunlight. It had the form of a man, but its face was covered with a growth of hair that hung down on its breast.
The person who appeared so remarkable to the denizens of the forest that they deemed him a god was none other than the intrepid French explorer Samuel de Champlain, founder of the city of Quebec. With but two followers he had been induced to accompany a war-party of Canadian Indians on their foray into Iroquois territory, and was thus the first of his race to look upon the waters of the noble lake that has ever since borne his name.
For a few moments the Iroquois gazed awe-stricken upon this first white man they had ever seen. Then, relying upon the prophecy of Kaweras, that only thunder and lightning could prevent them from winning a victory, they bent their bows and let fly a cloud of arrows. Many of these were aimed at the white man standing so boldly before them, but, to their dismay, he remained unharmed. Nahma in particular, who had shot at the very centre of the shining breastplate, was amazed and terrified to see his arrow, after striking, bound back as though it had encountered a wall of rock.
But scant time was given for the consideration of this marvel; for, even as they shot at him, the mysterious being brought into position a strange-looking stick that he carried until it was pointed directly at them. Then came a flash of lightning, a roar of thunder, a cloud of smoke, and a dozen of the Iroquois fell to the ground as though smitten by the wrath of God. As was afterwards proved, but two of them were killed and one—Sacandaga—was grievously wounded, while the others had fallen from sheer fright. At the same time the Hurons rushed forward with triumphant yells and a flight of arrows.
For a moment the Iroquois wavered and seemed about to fly. Then Nahma, son of Longfeather, sprang to the front with a loud cry, and, swinging a stone war-club above his head, made straight for the thunder-god who had wrought such havoc. Champlain was in the act of drawing his sword when he was staggered by a terrific blow that would surely have killed him but for the steel cap that he wore. Before he could recover, and ere a second blow could be delivered, there came another flash of lightning accompanied by its thunderous roar from a clump of bushes at one side, and two more Iroquois were stricken with sudden death.
At this fresh proof that the all-powerful spirits were indeed fighting against them the hearts of the Iroquois melted, and they fled from the field a panic-stricken mob. Even Nahma joined in the mad flight; but he paused long enough to pick up his wounded chieftain, whom he hoped to be able to carry as far as the canoes.
At their heels streamed the exultant Hurons, striking down the fugitives by the score. One of these drove a spear through the body of Sacandaga; and Nahma, staggering under his burden, was knocked down by the force of the blow. As he disengaged himself from the dead sachem and regained his feet he found himself once more face to face with the awful being who held in his hands the thunders and lightning of a Manitou.
At this moment Champlain, who had found time to reload his musket, fired a second shot into the ranks of the flying Iroquois. Ere its smoke could lift, Nahma, frenzied with rage and reckless of consequences, sprang upon the white man with uplifted knife. The blow was urged with all the splendid strength of the young warrior's arm, but it only bent the copper blade in his grasp and left him defenceless. Ere he could renew his flight he was flung to the earth and bound immovably with thongs of tough bark.
NAHMA SPRANG UPON THE WHITE MAN WITH UPLIFTED KNIFE
Nahma's first battle was ended in utter defeat, but he did not feel humiliated, for he believed that he had fought against immortal spirits who could come to no harm from the hands of man. He only wondered vaguely, as he lay awaiting the pleasure of his captors, why the Okis should have ranged themselves on the side of the perfidious Hurons instead of aiding the Iroquois, whom he then believed to be the most nearly perfect of human beings.
About one-half the force that Sacandaga had led so confidently to battle that morning reached the canoes and continued their flight up the lake. The Hurons did not pursue them, for they were too busy killing or taking captive those who were left behind.
By noon the whole affair was ended, and the triumphant Hurons, taking with them twoscore of dejected prisoners, as many bloody Iroquois scalps, and a number of canoes laden with spoils, set forth on their return to the St. Lawrence.
With them went Champlain, still thrilled with the excitement of fighting and killing, but already disgusted with the barbarities of his savage allies. Could he have foreseen that his act of that day had created a powerful enemy who for two hundred years to come would let pass no opportunity for the killing of a Frenchman, his thoughts would have been still more sombre.
In camp that night, while still occupied with his melancholy reflections, he was accosted by one of his white companions, who said,—
"Look yonder, monsieur. They are about to punish in pretty fashion the young devil who twice this day attempted to take thy life."
Realizing that for some reason the all-powerful white man who had that day given them a victory over their enemies was displeased, the Hurons agreed after a long consultation that it must be because the only one among the Iroquois who had dared attack him was still allowed to live. So, although such pleasures were generally reserved for their home-returning, they determined to sacrifice the audacious young warrior on the spot with the hope of thus regaining the favor of their allies. In order that he might thoroughly comprehend what was in store for him, they decided that he should first witness the torture of one of his companions. For this purpose a victim was selected at random from among the captives, and the two young men, facing each other, were securely bound to saplings standing but a few yards apart.
About the feet of each was piled a quantity of dry wood, and they were ordered to chant their death-songs if they dared. The Maqua immediately began in defiant tones to recount his own deeds of prowess on the war-path, and tell how many Hurons he had slain. He hurled defiance at his enemies, taunted them with their cowardice, and sought to so enrage them that they would kill him at once; but Nahma remained dumb. He had no deeds to tell of, nor was he in a humor to invent any.
Suddenly the Hurons made a rush at the one who thus defied them, and for a few minutes a fierce struggle raged about the helpless form. When next it appeared in view its scalp had been torn off, while the still living body was gashed and mutilated almost beyond recognition; but defiant words still issued chokingly from its trembling lips. The poor mortal frame was nearly spent, but its brave spirit was undaunted. The next act of torture was by fire. Blazing splinters of fat pine were thrust into the mangled body and hot ashes were poured on its bleeding head. Then a light was applied to the dry wood, and in another minute the eager flames were leaping high about their victim.
The awful tragedy was accompanied by shrieks of laughter, mocking yells, and a frantic dancing about the two young warriors, one of whom was thus made to serve as a hideous object lesson to the other. When the first was so nearly dead that his defiant utterances were reduced to mere gaspings for breath, the dancing demons turned their attention to the second victim, and prepared to inflict upon him a series of still more devilish torments.
Nahma had witnessed everything with fascinated gaze; but though sickened to the point of fainting, had made no movement nor uttered a sound to betray the agony of his thoughts. He now knew what to expect, and was nerving himself to endure to the end, as became a warrior. Aeana would never know, of course; but if by any chance the story of his last hour should reach her ear, she must have no excuse to call him "squaw."
One of his tormentors approached with a bar of iron heated until it glowed; for, through trading with the French, this metal was now known to the Indians of the St. Lawrence valley.
"Put out his eyes," shouted a spectator. "He has seen enough."
As the glowing iron approached his face Nahma instinctively closed his eyes; but a yell of derision from those near enough to note the movement caused him to open them again quickly. But even in that brief space something had happened, for the first thing on which they rested was a gigantic figure bounding towards him. It uttered inarticulate cries of rage and brandished a weapon. With a single blow from this it dashed to earth the man bearing the red-hot iron. Falling on his own instrument of torture, the wretch uttered a yell of pain as it seared his flesh. At the same moment the terrible new-comer levelled his weapon at the mutilated form bound to the opposite stake, and with a flash of lightning accompanied by a stunning burst of thunder, instantly freed the tortured spirit from its misery.
Before the smoke of the discharge cleared away the new-comer was beside Nahma, cutting savagely at his bonds. As the last one dropped he grasped the young warrior by an arm and led him a few paces from the cruel stake. Then turning to the sullen Hurons, who shrank from the indignant blaze of his eyes, he denounced them in bitter terms.
"You are worse than wolves," he cried. "You are scum and canaille. You are devils, and should be made to dwell forever in a pit of fire. Because you go forth to fight against a man and he meets you bravely, is that a reason for torturing him when the fortune of war has placed him helpless in your hands? This youth was the only one of all his people who dared attack me face to face and hand to hand. Better still, he was the only Iroquois brave enough to attempt the succor of their wounded chieftain. He is fleet of foot and might easily have escaped, but he would not go alone. So he fell into your inhuman hands, and as a reward for his bravery you propose to torture him to death. Bah! You make me so sick that I have a mind to sever all connection with you from this hour, and order my men to beat you from my sight with sticks. Now remember that this youth is my captive, and whoever touches so much as a hair of his head shall die, for I will not have him harmed.
"Come, lad, with me," added Champlain, turning to Nahma; "you shall eat and rest, and after that if you desire to return to your own people you shall be free to do so. Only it would please me to have you remain a little for instruction in the ways of white men and the making of a better acquaintance between us, for I have taken a fancy to you beyond any that I have yet entertained for a native of this wilderness."
Although Nahma understood no word of what the marvellous stranger said, he recognized the friendly tone and gesture, and was quite willing to follow wherever the other might lead. As they were about to move away a chief of the Hurons stood in the path and begged for a hearing.
"It is true," he said, "that we would have killed this young man; but it is because we thought our white father angry that he still lived. Also is it true that in any case we should have put him to death on reaching the place of our own people. We must have done this, for if we should let him live he would sooner or later make an escape, and in escaping would surely kill some of our people. It is because he is a brave warrior that we could not let him live to do us mischief. If he were a coward, then could we make of him a slave to hoe corn with the squaws; but with a brave man this might not be done. Also because of his bravery would we have tested him by fire, that he might give proof of his courage to the very end of his life. Any brave man, Huron or Iroquois, would rather perish at the stake than live the life of a slave. It is our way, and if it be not also the way of our white father, let him not cover us with shame on account of it, for we have not yet learned one that is better."
"You have spoken well," answered Champlain, "and already am I penitent for my hasty words, since, as you say, you were only acting according to your conception of what is right. Therefore I forgive you and will continue to extend the hand of friendship. At the same time, see you to it that no more atrocities are enacted in my presence. Also see to it that this youth is accorded the respect due him over whom my protection is extended."
So it came to pass that Nahma, son of Longfeather, now known as Massasoit the Iroquois, was saved from a dreadful death to become the companion of the first white man he had ever met, who was also one of the foremost adventurers of his age.
Although Champlain had laid aside his steel armor, he was still so utterly different in appearance from any person Nahma had ever seen that the latter continued to regard him as a supernatural being, and accompanied him with much trepidation. Also the youth was dazed by the peril he had just escaped and the strangeness of his deliverance.
As they went towards Champlain's own camp-fire, Nahma noticed for the first time that two more of the strange beings walked close beside them; and, listening to their conversation, though of course without understanding it, he all at once became convinced that they were indeed human like himself. Moreover, it flashed into his mind that they must be of that white race concerning which he had heard much talk in the lodge of Kaweras. By that shrewd Indian the apparently meaningless words repeated by Nahma during his illness had been conjectured to belong to the vocabulary of white men, and he had said as much to his young guest. Thinking of these things and acting upon a sudden impulse, just as they reached Champlain's separate camp Nahma exclaimed,—
"Hillo!"
The three white men stared at him in amazement.
"Sacré!" added the young warrior.
"What have we here?" cried Champlain. "A savage from the interior wilderness speaking both English and French. It is incredible.—My young friend, who taught you the tongues of the Old World? Where have you met white men?"
"Mass, I saw it," remarked Nahma. He was well pleased at the effect of the words already used, but looked for a still greater exhibition of amazement on the part of his hearers at this final utterance. To his disappointment, they only gazed blankly and evidently without understanding.
"That is evidently a native word, and must be his own name," said Champlain. "Massasoit. It hath a pleasing sound and fits well his aspect. Not only has he proved himself to be braver than any of his fellows, but he hath a look of superior intelligence. For these things I had thought to afford him opportunity of escaping during the night, and so of making his way back to his own people. Now, however, he has so aroused my interest and curiosity with his fluency in foreign tongues that I cannot afford to loose him until we are better acquainted. See to it, therefore, that he does not escape."
Thus Nahma, who if he had held his tongue would have been set free, was still retained as a captive and borne northward by the victorious Hurons. The journey down the lake, through the rapid Richelieu, and over the broad flood of the mighty St. Lawrence was full of interest and novel sensations to our lad. None of them was, however, to be compared with the wonder and amazement that filled his soul on the evening of the tenth day of travel, when they came to Quebec, and he gazed for the first time on the lodges of white men.
Samuel de Champlain was one of the most daring and persistent of explorers in the New World. Before coming of age he visited the West Indies and Mexico, going down the Pacific coast of the latter country as far as Panama. Then as he crossed the isthmus he conceived the idea, which he afterwards made public, of a ship canal that should connect the two oceans. His next voyage, inspired by the published narrative of Jacques Cartier, carried him into the St. Lawrence and up that mighty river as far as Hochelaga (Montreal), which point Cartier had also reached nearly seventy years earlier.
Champlain subsequently explored the coasts of Canada and New England, helped to found the unfortunate settlements of St. Croix and Port Royal, and sailed to the southward as far as Cape Cod. On his way he stopped in Boston harbor, which he describes as being filled with heavily wooded islands. He also discovered the Charles River, and named it Rivière du Guast. On the following day he took refuge from a gale in Plymouth harbor, which he named Port St. Louis, and which he thus visited long before the Pilgrims landed on its shores.
After spending some years on the coast and crossing the Atlantic several times, the energetic Frenchman again entered the St. Lawrence and sailed as far as Stadaconie, where Cartier first and after him Roberval had planted ill-starred and short-lived settlements. At this point Champlain determined to establish a base from which to explore the vast regions that, hidden in savage mystery, stretched away indefinitely on all sides. It should also be head-quarters for the greatest fur trade the world had ever known, and for the religious institutions from which he hoped to spread Christianity among the heathen.
Here, then, on a narrow strand at the foot of towering cliffs, he set his men to work, and before the summer was ended they had erected three spacious buildings, enclosed them within a stout palisade, planted defensive batteries, dug a moat around the whole, cleared land for a garden, and opened up a trade with the neighboring Indians. Thus was begun a city destined to become one of the most important of the New World, and to it Champlain gave the name of Quebec, which was his pronunciation of a native word signifying a narrowing of the river.
In Quebec, twenty-seven years later, the great Frenchman died, leaving behind him a record of adventure and achievement such as but few others could show. He had succeeded where many had failed, and had established an empire in the New World. He had crossed the ocean more than a score of times to make himself equally welcome in the court circles of France and beside the council-fires of Huron warriors. He had explored the Ottawa to its head-waters, crossed the divide to Lake Nipissing, descended to Georgian Bay, and was the first white man to gaze upon the inland sea that he named Lake Huron. He next discovered Lake Ontario, crossed it in a bark canoe, and penetrated the Iroquois country as far as the site of Syracuse. In the beautiful lake that bears his name he has an enduring monument. He started on the journey that ended on Lake Champlain with the hope, then common to all explorers, of discovering a western passage to China, and only failed because he could not find what did not exist. Instead of it, he discovered, saved from an awful death, and carried to Quebec the youth who was to become known to the world as Massasoit, chief of the Wampanoags.
Champlain had long been looking for some young Indian of intelligence and proved courage whom he might teach to speak his own language, attach to his person, and employ to advantage in his proposed explorations. In Nahma he believed he had found all the desired qualities, and, what was still better, the youth, being an Iroquois, would never join any Huron conspiracy against the French. The shrewd adventurer was therefore greatly pleased with his prize and impatient to begin his training. At the same time he found his Huron allies so jealous of his liking for an Iroquois, that while he remained in their company he dared not treat his captive with any marked attention. He saw that Nahma was provided with food, and would not permit him to be beaten or abused, as were some of the prisoners, but that was all. He dared not even have the youth in his own canoe, much as he wished to gain his confidence. Thus, Nahma saw but little of his white companions on the weary journey that finally ended at Quebec.
At the mouth of the Richelieu the victorious war-party disbanded, the larger number, together with most of the prisoners, going up the St. Lawrence towards their homes on the Ottawa, and only half a dozen canoes of Montagnais, who dwelt on the Saguenay, followed Champlain down the great river. As these came within sight of Quebec they raised a triumphant war-song and plied their paddles with redoubled energy, while Champlain and the other white men discharged their muskets in token of victory. This was the first news of their absent leader received by the anxious garrison since his departure, and in their joy over his safe return they gave him a thunderous welcome from their cannon.
Not only did this dreadful sound nearly paralyze poor Nahma, but it so terrified a small party of Indians who were trading within the fort that they rushed from it in dismay, took to their canoes, and paddled off with all speed. So precipitate was their flight that they left behind one of their number, who in his terror had leaped from a second-story window of the trading house and broken a leg.
Champlain had left his infant colony in charge of Pierre Chauvin, a smart young officer, who now met him outside the palisades with tidings that caused an instant change of plan. The only ship that would return to France that year had dropped down to Tadousac for a lading of furs but two days earlier. For a moment Champlain hesitated, and then his mind was made up. He must board that ship before she sailed, for he had despatches of the utmost importance to send home by her. Thus he must immediately hasten to Tadousac. This decision he imparted to Chauvin, adding,—
"I will shortly return, and until then take thou good care of this youth." Here the speaker indicated Nahma. "See that he escape not, for his security is of importance to our cause. Keep him, then, safely until I come again, when I will inform thee further concerning him. Au revoir, mon ami. May the saints protect thee."
Thus saying, Champlain rejoined his Indian allies, who were impatient to be off, and in another minute was again sweeping down the great river. By his order Nahma had been hastily bundled ashore, and now stood gazing first at the wonderful structures rising close at hand and then at the disappearing canoes. Chauvin stood near by, biting his moustache and growling at his chief's sudden departure.
"I wish I were in his place," he muttered; "and if once I could set foot on shipboard I would sail away never again to revisit this detestable country. How now, you spawn! What are you staring at?" he cried, suddenly turning upon Nahma, who was looking curiously at him.
Chauvin hated Indians as he did everything else in the country that had so bitterly disappointed his dreams of easily acquired wealth, and he was disgusted that one of them should now be left in his care.
"Away with him to the guard-house!" he shouted to a couple of soldiers in attendance, "and keep him in close confinement until the governor's return, since that is his Excellency's order."
So Nahma was roughly hustled away, led inside the palisade, across the enclosed court, and thrust into the guard-house. It was a small structure solidly built of logs, having a rude stone chimney and a single unglazed window some eighteen inches square that was fitted with iron bars and could be closed from the outside by a heavy shutter. There were also bars across the throat of the chimney. The floor was of earth and the room was unfurnished. As the massive door of this dungeon swung to with a crash behind him the young Indian stood for a moment motionless. Then, in a frenzy of rage, he dashed himself against the immovable barrier, clutched at the window-bars in a vain effort to wrench them from their fastenings, and rushed about the narrow space, seeking some outlet, like a wild animal when first caged.
While our lad was thus engaged the door of his prison was again flung open and two soldiers entered. Still possessed by his frenzy, Nahma sprang forward, determined to kill them and make good his escape or die in the attempt; but the sight of a burden that they bore caused him to pause. It was the form of another Indian youth apparently helpless. Behind them came others bringing straw, two blankets, food, and a jug of water. With the straw and blankets they made a bed in one corner, on which they laid the wounded youth. Then without a word to the prisoner they departed, barring the door behind them.
Now our lad had at least something to occupy his mind and divert his thoughts from his own unhappiness. He saw that the new-comer was neither a Huron nor an Iroquois; but as he bent over him and began to ask questions he discovered that they had many words of the wide-spread Algonquin tongue in common. Thus he quickly learned that the other was named Tasquanto, that he was of a band of the Abenakis who had come to Quebec to trade, and that, terrified by the awful noise of cannon, he had leaped from a window and broken a leg. His comrades having deserted him, he had been brought to the guard-house that the only other Indian remaining in the fort might wait upon him.
So Nahma was provided with an occupation that probably prevented him from either killing himself in his despair or losing his mind. Thanks to the teaching of Kaweras, he was able to set and properly bandage Tasquanto's broken limb, and for weeks thereafter he was his fellow-prisoner's devoted attendant.
In the mean time the green of summer was succeeded by the gorgeous tints of autumn, and its short-lived glory gave way to the white desolation of a northern winter; but Champlain did not return to Quebec, nor did any word come from him. At the end of two months Chauvin sent messengers to Tadousac; but they returned without having seen a living soul, white or red; and not until the weary winter was half spent did the garrison of that lonely fort learn what had become of the leader whom they were mourning as dead.
The Canadian winter, that is now a time of so much animation and gayety in the city of Quebec, proved a season of terror, starvation, sickness, and death to the handful of Frenchmen left by Champlain to guard his infant settlement. At its beginning they recklessly squandered their stores, eating and drinking with no thought of the morrow. If Champlain had been with them he would have taught them differently, for he had already passed several winters in the country and knew their bitter meaning. But, lacking his wise guidance, they indulged in riotous living until suddenly they came face to face with famine. The winter was not more than half spent when this happened, and they began to suffer from hunger.
Now that it was too late for any real good, Chauvin seized every particle of food that remained, locked it up, and doled it out to his men in such meagre allowance as barely served to keep life in their shivering bodies. He also sent them into the woods to hunt, or to dig roots and groundnuts, with which to help out their scanty fare. He had expected to be able to purchase all the provisions he needed from Indians, who, during the summer, had brought game to the fort in abundance, but now not a native was to be seen except a few poor wretches who came empty-handed and as beggars.
Unlike their brethren of the south, who cultivated fields and stored harvests for the winter, the improvident dwellers of that region lived wholly by hunting, feasting while game was plentiful and starving when it was gone.
In all this time no one within the limits of that wretched fort suffered as did the son of Longfeather. From the day that he was thrust into his prison he was not allowed to leave it for a breath of outside air, or a glimpse of the freedom for which his soul longed, until it seemed as though he would rather die than remain within those hated walls another minute.
And with it all he had no idea why he was thus confined or what fate was in store for him. Only, as days, weeks, and months passed, he became more and more certain that he was to have no release save only by death itself. But one thing kept him from seeking this instead of waiting for it, and that was the friendship of the young Indian who, wounded and helpless, had been brought to him during the first hour of his imprisonment. Tasquanto's recovery was slow, and for many weeks he depended upon Nahma for everything. It did not take long for these two, drawn to each other by the bonds of race and a common misfortune, to cement a friendship, and swear that they would either gain freedom or perish together.
Although they could not plan an escape from their closely guarded prison and must wait for chance to aid them, they spent hours in discussing the course to be pursued if ever they got beyond those hated walls.
"We must make all haste to cross the river," said Tasquanto, "for the Hurons would quickly kill us if we remained on this side. If it is frozen that will be easy. If not, we must steal one of the clumsy boats of these awkward white men, who make everything bigger and heavier than is needful. On the other side we will conceal ourselves until we can build a canoe, and then we will go southward. Beyond that I cannot see, for if we go to the country of thy people, they will kill me; while it would be dangerous for thee, an Iroquois, to be found in my country."
"But I am not of the Iroquois," protested Nahma.
"Not of the Iroquois! Who, then, are thy people?"
"That I know not. I was found among the Maquas, who are a tribe of the Iroquois, sorely wounded and without memory of aught that had ever happened before that time. Since then I have been an Iroquois by adoption, but it is certain that I am not one by birth."
This statement so changed the aspect of affairs that it was agreed they should travel towards the country of the Abenakis in case an escape could be effected. It also afforded a fruitful topic of speculation, and thus helped pass the weary hours.
Finally, the time came when Tasquanto was so fully recovered that he was sent out to hunt food for the hungry garrison, and during the day Nahma was left alone, since only at night was his companion allowed to rejoin him. Chauvin realized that if both were sent into the woods they would at once make good their escape; while, from the friendship he had noted between them, he felt assured that Tasquanto would return to his comrade so long as the latter was held. Nor did he dare allow Nahma to escape while there was a chance of Champlain's return.
So our poor lad shivered and starved in his hated prison-house, finding his only occupation in making snow-shoes from materials furnished by Tasquanto. He designed them for his own use, but they were taken from him by his guards as fast as completed, so that in the end he had nothing to show for his labors. One night a great grief befell him; Tasquanto failed to appear at the usual hour, nor did he come during the night, though Nahma watched and waited for him until morning. He asked eager questions of the guard who brought his miserable breakfast, but the man refused to answer, and all that day our lad sat in a lethargy of despair, careless whether he lived or died.
The following night was one of furious storm and bitter cold. The north wind roaring through the bending forest shrieked and howled in savage glee as it struck the forlorn little outpost of white men. It leaped down the wide-throated chimneys and scattered their fires. It slammed shutters and doors, while if any ventured abroad, it blinded and choked them with stinging volleys of snowdrift. So fierce and deadly was it that even military discipline came to an end, and all sentries were permitted to abandon their posts.
Nahma sat alone in the dark, numbed and nearly perished with the cold, for he had burned up the last bit of fuel brought him two days earlier by Tasquanto, and none had been supplied since. In the many voices of the storm, now shrill and clamorous, then deep and menacing, and again filled with weird moanings that died in long-drawn sighs, he heard the spirits of the dead, the Okis of another world, calling to him, and bidding him share their wild freedom. He knew that he had but to yield to the drowsiness already overpowering him, and the deadly cold would speedily release him from all earthly prisons. Perhaps Tasquanto's spirit was among those now calling; yes, he was sure of it, for he recognized his friend's voice. "Massasoit," it called, "Massasoit, wake up! It is I, Tasquanto, thy brother. Wake up and come to me."
The cry was agonized in its intensity, and after a little even Nahma's dulling senses recognized that it was uttered by human lips. At the same time he felt that the storm was beating on his face, and struggling weakly to his feet, he gained the window through which it came. Its shutter was wide open, and beyond its bars stood Tasquanto speaking to him.
"I thought thee dead, my brother, for I have called many times without answer," said Tasquanto, as he became aware that his friend was at hand.
"And I believed thy voice to be that of thy spirit, for I also thought thee gone to the place of the dead," replied Nahma. "Why have you remained away from me these many hours?"
"It is because they drove me from the gate, saying that my hunting was of no avail, and that I should not longer eat of their stores. But I could not go, my brother, without word with thee, and now has the storm-god given me a chance for speaking. If it were not for these bars we could do more than speak, for those who kept guard have been driven to shelter, and there is none to hinder us from going away together. But they may not be broken, and so we must wait until other means are found for thy release. But fear not that I will desert thee. I have found a way for passing the wall, and will come to this place whenever it may be done without notice. In the mean time I will prepare for our flight. Already have I built a lodge in a safe place beyond the river, and——"
Here Tasquanto's words were suddenly interrupted, and the heavy shutter was slammed to as though by a fierce gust of wind. Then the door was flung open and the faint gleam of a horn lantern illumined the interior.
A little earlier on that same evening Chauvin, while talking with one of his officers concerning Champlain and his unexplained absence, had been reminded of the young Indian whom the governor had consigned to his care, but to whom he had not given a thought in many days. Now he inquired carelessly whether he were alive or dead.
"I know not," replied the officer, who, following his chief's example, had not concerned himself about the fate of so insignificant a being as a captive Indian.
"And why do you not know?" cried Chauvin, with a sudden burst of petulant rage. "It is your duty to know, and to be ready with instant report concerning everything taking place within the walls of Quebec. Do you think because the governor chooses to absent himself for a while that no one is left here to maintain his authority? By the saints, monsieur, I will give you cause to remember that Pierre Chauvin is not to be trifled with, and that when he asks a question he expects it to be promptly answered. Go, then, at once, sir, and inform yourself by personal observation of the condition of this prisoner, or haply you may find yourself in his place."
Without daring to reply, the bewildered officer bowed and left the room. Thus it happened that, accompanied by a soldier whom he had summoned to attend him, he came to Nahma's prison-house in time to interrupt the conversation between him and Tasquanto and frighten the latter into a precipitate retreat.
Finding, to his satisfaction, that the prisoner was still alive, the officer demanded of the soldier why, in such weather, he was kept without fire.
The soldier replied that it had been left to the other Indian to provide the guard-house with fuel; whereupon his superior passed out to him the rating he himself had received from Chauvin.
"And so, canaille, you leave your duties to be performed by a miserable skulking savage. A pretty state of affairs in a king's fortress. Bring wood at once, sir, and fire, also fetch something in the way of food, for this wretch looks like to die of starvation, a thing that may not be allowed of the governor's own prisoner, even though he be a heathen."
So on that night of bitter tempest not only were Nahma's spirits raised by a new hope, but the horrors of freezing and starvation that had threatened his life were sensibly mitigated. Two days later came the first word received from Champlain since his hurried departure for Tadousac four months earlier.
The mystery of Champlain's disappearance weighed heavily on the spirits of the forlorn little garrison left to hold Quebec. He had been the life and mainstay of the colony, the firm rock upon which it was founded. Without him there seemed no hope of its continuance or of relief from their distress. They were convinced that he was dead, for they knew he would never have left them without at least sending a message to tell where he had gone. So they mourned him sincerely if also selfishly, and planned to abandon his settlement at the first opportunity, if indeed any should offer.
The great storm cast an added gloom over the garrison, and they were so unhappy that every man was ready to fly at his neighbor's throat upon the slightest provocation, when a small band of Indians was reported to be making a camp near at hand. Instantly every face brightened, for it was thought that they must have brought provisions to trade for goods. Thus, when, a little later, one of them approached the fort, he was given prompt admittance. Being conducted to the presence of the commandant, he announced that his people were so very hungry that they had come to the white men to beg a little food from their abundant stores. At the same time he had brought a message from the great white chief, for which he was entitled to a reward.
With this the Indian produced a folded paper, greasy and grimed with dirt, which he handed to Chauvin.
As the latter unfolded it he uttered an exclamation, for it contained a note written in French and signed "Champlain." Its condition rendered it difficult to decipher, but as the reader gradually mastered its contents his face darkened, until suddenly he sprang up, seized a stick, and began furiously to belabor the astonished savage, who had been waiting in smiling expectancy for his reward. With a howl of pained surprise, he leaped back and rushed from the building with the enraged commandant in hot pursuit.
Not until the terrified native had escaped from the fort and disappeared in the forest did Chauvin give over his chase. Then, to the amazement of his men, he ordered a cannon to be loaded and fired in the direction taken by the object of his wrath. Although the crashing ball did no damage, it, and the roar of the gun bursting upon the winter stillness, so frightened the recently arrived Indians that they instantly abandoned their partially constructed camp and fled in hot haste from that hostile neighborhood.
Refusing to answer questions, and so leaving the curiosity of his men unsatisfied, Chauvin returned to his quarters, and lifting Champlain's note from the floor where he had flung it, read it for the second time with gritting teeth and bitter maledictions. It was dated four months earlier, and read as follows:
"My Good Friend Pierre:
"I am just arrived at Tadousac and find the ship about to sail. I also find it to be of the last importance that one of us should return in her to France. Had I known this two days earlier, or could I get word to you in season, the mission would devolve upon you, since I am loath to leave at this time. As it happens, I myself must go; but will return in earliest spring. So, my friend, until then everything is left to you. Husband carefully your provisions, keep up the spirits of your men, and maintain friendly relations with the natives. I forward this by a messenger, whom you will suitably reward for its prompt delivery. Regretting that we may not exchange duties, for I would gladly remain, I sign myself, as ever,
"Thy friend,
"Champlain."
"Death and furies!" cried Chauvin, again flinging the note to the floor and grinding it beneath his heel. "To think that while we have mourned him as dead he has been all the time comfortably in France. Also that I might have gone in his stead if only he could have got word to me in time. Ten thousand thunders! It would enrage a saint! Maintain friendly relations with the natives, forsooth! I would I could blow them all to eternity. Suitably reward that rascal messenger! Burning at the stake would be too good for him. And, heavens! all this time we have been keeping one of the scoundrels in luxurious idleness, gorging him with food robbed from our own bellies, providing him with fire and lodging to gratify a whim of the governor's, doubtless long since forgotten. But not another minute shall he thus impose upon us. He shall go, and that with such speed as will amaze him."
With this the angry commandant again descended to the court, summoned all the able-bodied men of the garrison, and bade them form a double line outside the guard-house door, after first providing themselves with cudgels. "The red whelp inside," he said, "has without recompense devoured our substance long enough. Now, therefore, I propose to send him forth bearing tokens of our regard that may not be forgotten in haste. Watch sharply, then, and remember that any man failing to deal him at least one blow shall go without his supper this night. Are you ready? It is well!"
Thus saying, Chauvin unlocked the guard-house door and flung it open preparatory to stepping inside and driving out with blows its solitary occupant. The next moment he was hurled sprawling to the ground, and a slight, half-naked figure, animated by desperation, was darting with such speed between the lines of unprepared soldiers that some failed even to go through the motions of striking at him, while others wasted their blows on the empty air. Uttering yells of delight at the novel nature of this entertainment, they ran after him; but they might as well have pursued a fleeting shadow. Before they could head him off he had sped through the open gate and was gone.
After Tasquanto's visit Nahma's shutter had been nailed up, so that he no longer had even the poor consolation of gazing out on the blank wall of palisades. Nor could he employ his hands, for he was now in darkness, save for such faint gleams as filtered down his chimney. Under these conditions he believed that he might speedily die, and planned for one last effort at escape before his waning strength should turn to utter weakness. On that very day he had determined that when next his prison door was opened it should never again close on his living body. So he sat watching it with feverish impatience.
The roar of Chauvin's vengeful cannon startled him and at the same time gave him a vague hope of some unusual happening that might result in his favor. So he became keenly alert, and was not taken by surprise when, without previous warning, the door of the guard-house was flung open. Dropping from his shoulders the blanket which alone had saved him from freezing, the youth sprang forward, reckless of consequences, and a minute later, without an idea of how the miracle had been accomplished, found himself outside the fort and speeding towards the icebound river. So blinded were his eyes by the unaccustomed light and glare of snow that until now he had seen nothing save the figure that had opened his door, and his movements had been guided by instinct rather than knowledge. The single fact indelibly impressed upon his brain was that Tasquanto waited somewhere beyond the river. Consequently that was the one direction for him to take, and he would doubtless have plunged into its waters, had they been free, as readily as he now leaped upon its snow-covered surface.
So long as he was within sight of the fort and within range of its guns his strength lasted, and he sped forward with the same fleetness that had formerly aroused the wonder of his Iroquois friends. Thus he gained the middle of the river, and climbed a rugged ridge of hummocks and huge ice-blocks upheaved during the final struggle of rebellious waters against the mighty forces of the frost-king.
On the farther side of this our poor lad faltered, staggered, and then sank with a groan. The nervous strength that had borne him thus far was exhausted, and in this place of temporary safety it yielded to the weakness of his long imprisonment. He had made a splendid dash for liberty, but now he had reached the limit of his powers, and must either be recaptured within a short space or die of the bitter cold. Even as he lay with closed eyes gasping for breath he felt its numbing clutch, and knew that very shortly he would be powerless against it. But it did not matter. He would at least die in possession of the freedom for which he had longed, and, after all, what had he to live for? He was friendless, homeless, and without even a people whom he might call his own. No tribe claimed him, there was no lodge within which he had the right of shelter. It would be much better in the land of spirits, for there his own would know him as he would know them. The trail to it was easy and short, also it was a very pleasant path, bright with sunshine and gay with flowers. There was music of singing birds, and already were the voices of his own people calling to him. "Massasoit!" they cried, "Massasoit!" Then they named him brother and bade him open his eyes that he might see them. So he opened his eyes and gazed into the anxious face of Tasquanto, who knelt beside him rubbing vigorously at his limbs and slapping him smartly to restore circulation in the numbing body.
He smiled happily at sight of Nahma's unclosed eyes, but did not for an instant desist from his rubbings and slappings until the other at length sat up, and then unsteadily regained his feet.
"Now, my brother," said Tasquanto, taking a robe of skins from his own shoulders as he spoke and throwing it about Nahma, "together must we reach the lodge I have prepared, for I will never return to it alone. The trail is long and hard, but it must be overcome or we shall perish together."
So the journey was begun, Nahma at first leaning heavily on his comrade's supporting arm, but gaining new strength with each step. As he had taken neither nourishment nor stimulant, this was wholly owing to the effect upon his spirits of renewed hope and a cheery companionship. As they walked Tasquanto told him how, ever since the storm, his attempts at communication had been frustrated, how in the mean time he had increased the comforts of his hidden lodge, how at sound of Chauvin's cannon he had hastened towards the fort to learn the cause of the firing, and of the overwhelming joy with which he had discovered Nahma as the latter topped the ice-ridge in the middle of the river. Then Nahma related as well as he could the details of his wonderful escape from the fort, and by the time his narrative was ended they were come to the rude lodge that Tasquanto had built in anticipation of just such a need as had now arisen.
Tasquanto's lodge was snugly hidden in a dense growth of heavy timber near the place where the Chaudière flows into the St. Lawrence. It was merely a frame of poles covered so thickly with branches of fragrant spruce and balsam that it presented the appearance of a green mound rising above the surrounding snow. Its walls were so thick as to be almost wind-proof, and in the middle of its earthen floor was a small circle of stones that formed a rude fireplace. In this only the dryest of wood was burned, and the little smoke that resulted escaped through an aperture left in the roof. On two sides were elastic beds of spruce boughs covered deep with flat hemlock branches and balsam tips. The very air of the place was a tonic, and the escaped captive, fresh from the foulness of his prison, drew in eager breaths of its life-giving sweetness as he sank wearily, but happily, down on the nearest pile of boughs.
As he lay there gazing about the rude shelter with an air of perfect content he uttered frequent exclamations of amazement, for Tasquanto was drawing from various hiding-places an array of treasures such as no Indian of Nahma's acquaintance had ever before possessed: a copper kettle, a steel hatchet, two knives, a blanket, several glass bottles, and a fragment of mirror. Then, with conscious pride, but also with evident trepidation, he produced the most wonderful trophy of all, a rusty musket, one of the awful thunder-sticks that rendered the white man all-powerful.
During the night of the great storm the entire garrison of Quebec had gathered for warmth in the hall of the commandant's house, and Tasquanto had taken advantage of this to make a foray into the deserted barracks with the above result. He had brought away the musket with fear and trembling, dreading lest it might explode and kill him at any moment. Even now he handled it cautiously, while Nahma could not for some time be persuaded to touch it. So it was laid carefully down, and he was permitted to feast his eyes on the marvel while Tasquanto busied himself in preparing a feast of more substantial character.
He had been so fortunate as to discover the winter den of a bear, which he had also succeeded in killing, so that now he could offer his guest not only the warmth of a shaggy robe but an abundance of meat. Instead of half-burning and half-cooking a chunk of this on the coals, as was the custom of his people, he displayed a rudiment of civilization by cutting it up into small bits and stewing them in his copper kettle.
After the youths had eaten heartily of this meal, which, simple as it was, proved more satisfactory to Nahma than the very best of those given him in Quebec, they spent several hours in discussing their plans for the future and in examining Tasquanto's treasures. Having overcome his awe of the thunder-stick sufficiently to take it in his hands, Nahma became anxious to test its powers. He had seen Champlain discharge his musket, and knew that it was done through the agency of a lighted slow-match applied to the priming-pan. His knowledge of the firing of a gun was thus far in advance of Tasquanto's, who, having never witnessed the operation at close range, had no idea of how it was accomplished. But he was quite willing to learn, and so it was agreed that on the following morning Nahma should give the owner of the musket his first lesson in its use.
Both of them were so excited over the prospect of experimenting for their own benefit with the deadly thunder of the white man that they lay awake most of the night discussing their proposed adventure; and, as a consequence, slept much later than they had intended on the following morning. The day was well advanced, therefore, when the two lads, after preparing and eating another hearty meal, stepped outside to test their newly acquired weapon. It was carried by Nahma, who, nervous with excitement, still presented a bold front, while, under his direction, Tasquanto fetched a blazing brand from the fire.
Resting the barrel of his piece across the trunk of a prostrate tree and holding its stock at arm's length, Nahma bade his companion apply fire to the pan. With much trepidation and a strong desire to clap both hands to his ears, Tasquanto valiantly did as he was bidden, but without result. Again and again did he apply the glowing coal, but still the gun refused to obey the wishes of its inexperienced owners.
"It will only speak and deal out its death-medicine at the command of white men," said Tasquanto, disconsolately.
"Not so," replied Nahma, "for once I saw it obey the will of a Huron warrior. But I think I know what is needed. It must be turned over so that the flame may rise to it. Also in this weather the thunder-stick is so cold that it will take much fire to warm it into action. Make, therefore, a hot blaze, and I am assured that something will happen."
So Nahma turned the gun, and, forgetting to remain at arm's length, bent anxiously over the refractory piece, while Tasquanto built a regular fire beneath it. Of a sudden the musket went off with a tremendous report that roused the woodland echoes for miles. Also it sprang savagely backward, bowling over both Nahma and Tasquanto as though they had been ninepins. But the most astounding result of the discharge was a series of shrieks and yells that resounded through the forest as though it were peopled by a pack of demons. At the same time a number of leaping figures dashed from an extensive thicket at which the gun had been inadvertently pointed and fled as though for their lives. Something had assuredly happened.
As our bewildered lads cautiously lifted their heads to learn the extent of the damage done by the fearful force they had so recklessly let loose, each was thankful to see that the other was still alive. Next they glanced at the musket. It lay half buried in the snow, looking as innocent and harmless as a stick of wood; but they knew of what terrible things it was capable, and would hereafter be very careful how they allowed it to come into contact with fire. They were convinced that in some unexplained manner it could absorb flame until it had accumulated a certain quantity and could then eject this with deadly effect.
Being reassured concerning their own condition and the present harmlessness of the musket, they next bethought themselves of the dreadful cries that had seemed to mingle with the report, and they agreed that these must have been uttered by the Okis, or spirits of the forest, in protest against such a rude disturbance of its winter quiet. As they stiffly picked themselves up, Nahma declared his intention of visiting the thicket towards which the thunder-stick had been pointed, to see whether he could discover where its lightnings had struck. Tasquanto tried to dissuade him, declaring that the place must be the abode of Okis; but to this Nahma answered that if so they were certainly frightened away for the present, which would therefore be the best time to visit their haunts.
So the two cautiously made their way in that direction, and had not gone more than fifty paces when they came upon a sight almost as startling as had been the discharge of the musket. It was the dead body of a Huron warrior not yet cold. His life's blood still trickled from a jagged wound in the breast and crimsoned the snow on which he had fallen. On all sides of him were other signs that told as plainly as spoken words how narrowly our lads had escaped falling into the hands of a merciless foe. There were marks of a cautious approach along the trail they themselves had made the day before, of the halt for observation when the intended victims were discovered, and of the panic-stricken flight that followed the unexpected musket-fire by which one of their number had been so suddenly killed.
"The thunder-stick is indeed a god," remarked Nahma. "It can discover and kill the enemies of those to whom it is friendly even before they have knowledge of approaching danger."
"Yes," replied Tasquanto, as he coolly scalped the dead Huron; "with it to fight on our side we are become as sagamores, terrible and all-powerful. I will take it to my own people, and when it shall lead them in battle who will be able to stand before them? Even the white men, whom many still think to be gods, are now no stronger than we. Oh, my friend! let us shout for joy, since in all the world there is no man more powerful than are Massasoit and Tasquanto, his brother."
When the exultant young warriors returned to camp, bearing with them the trophies of their exploit, they also carried, very reverently, the weapon which they termed a "thunder-god," and which had rendered them such notable service. Then, while Nahma set to work on a pair of snow-shoes, Tasquanto, who had seen the French soldiers oil and burnish their guns, coated his with bear's grease, removed its smoke-stains, and rubbed its barrel until it shone. When he had done for it everything that his limited knowledge prescribed, he placed it in a corner where they could constantly admire it, and began the construction of a rude toboggan of bark.
By the time this was completed Nahma's snow-shoes were also ready for service, and the fugitives were prepared to start on their long southward journey. For a beginning of this they made their way slowly up to the head-waters of the Chaudière, crossed a rugged divide to those of the Penobscot, and there established a permanent camp. From this they set lines of traps that yielded a rich reward in the way of pelts, and before spring opened they got out the frame of a canoe. As soon as sap began to run in the birch-trees they secured enough bark to cover it, and by the time the river opened they were prepared to float with its current to the country of Tasquanto's people.
Their voyage down the swift-rushing river was filled with adventures and with hair-breadth escapes. Not only were they in almost constant danger from foaming rapids and roaring waterfalls, but only unceasing vigilance and an occasional display of their musket saved them from death or capture by the hostile tribes through whose territory they passed.
At length they carried around the last cataract and entered upon the long, broad reaches by which the river flowed in dignified majesty to the sea. This was Tasquanto's country, and now they might watch for the villages in which he would be assured a friendly welcome.
Finally one was sighted, and Nahma proposed that, after the custom of white men on returning from victorious expeditions, they should discharge their thunder-stick. Nothing loath to add to his own importance by such an announcement of their coming, Tasquanto promptly assented to this proposition. So they landed a few hundred yards above the village and made preparations for the second discharge of their formidable weapon.