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Ticonderoga; A Story of Early Frontier Life in the Mohawk Valley

<h4>CHAPTER XX</h4> Through the widespread woods which lay between the extensive territory occupied by the Mohawks and the beautiful land of the Oneidas, early in the morning of the day, some of the events of which have been already recorded, a small troop of Indians glided along in their usual stealthy manner. They were in their garments of peace. Each was fully clothed according to the Indian mode, and the many-colored mat of ceremony hung from their shoulders as they passed along, somewhat encumbering them in their progress. They took the narrow trails; but yet it was not so easy for them to conceal themselves, if such was their object, as it might have been in another dress and at another time; for, except when passing a still brilliant maple, or a rich brown oak, the gaudy coloring of their clothing showed itself strongly either against the dark evergreens or the white snow. The party had apparently traveled from night into day, for as soon as the morning dawned the head man of the five stopped, and, without changing his position--and thus avoiding the necessity of making fresh prints in the snow-conversed over his shoulder with those behind him. Their conversation was brief, and might be translated into modern English thus: "Shall we halt here, or go on farther? The day's eyes are open in the east." "Stay here till noon," said an elder man behind him. "The Oneidas always go to their lodge in the middle of the day. They are children. They require sleep when the sun is high." Another voice repeated the same advice, and springing one by one from the trail into the thicket, they gathered together under a wide-spreading hemlock, where the ground was free from snow, and seated themselves in a circle beneath the branches. There they passed their time nearly in silence. Some food was produced, and also some rum, the fatal gift of the English; but very few words were uttered, and the only sentences worth recording were: "Art thou quite sure of the spot, brother?" "Certain," answered the one who had been leading. "The intelligence was brought by an Albany runner, a man of a true tongue." From time to time each of the different members of the group looked up toward the sky, and at length one of them rose, saying: "It is noon; let us onward. We can go forward for an hour, and then we shall be near enough to reach the place and return while the shadows are on the earth." "We were told to spread out and enter by several trails," said an elder man of the party. "It is not needful now," said the man who seemed the leader of the party, "when it can all be done between sun and sun." His words seemed conclusive, and they resumed the path again, walking on stealthily in a single file, as before. They had gone about three miles more, when a wild, fearful yell, such as no European would believe a human throat could utter, was heard upon their right. Another rose up on their left the instant after, and then another in their front. Each man stopped in breathless silence, as if suddenly turned to stone, but each with the first impulse had laid his hand upon his tomahawk. All listened for a repetition of the well-known war-whoop, and each man asked himself what such a sound could mean in a land where the Indians were all at peace amongst themselves, and where no tidings had been received of a foreign foe; but no man uttered a word, even in a whisper, to the man close to him. Suddenly a single figure appeared upon the trail before them, tall, powerful, commanding, and one well known to all there present. It was that of the Black Eagle, now feathered and painted for battle, with his rifle in his hand, and his tomahawk ready. "Are ye Mohawks?" he exclaimed, as he came near. "Are we brethren?" "We are Mohawks and brethren," replied the leader of the party. "We are but wandering through the forest, seeking to find something which has been lost." "What is it?" asked the Black Eagle, sternly; "nothing is lost which cannot be found. Snow may cover it for a time, but when the snow melts, it will come to light." "It is a young lad's coat," said the cunning Mohawk; "but why is Black Eagle on the warpath? Who has unburied the hatchet against the Oneidas?" "The Black Eagle dreamed a dream," replied the chief, round whom numerous Oneidas, equipped for war, had by this time gathered, "and in his dream he saw ten men come from the midday into the land of the Oneida, and ten men from the side of the cold wind. They wore the garb of peace, and called themselves brothers of the children of the Stone. But the eyes of the Black Eagle were strong in his dream, and he saw through their bosoms, and their hearts were black, and a voice whispered to him that they came to steal from the Oneida that which they cannot restore, and to put a burden upon the children of the Stone that they will not carry." "Was it not the voice of the singing bird?" asked the young Mohawk chief. "Was the dream sent by the bad spirit?" "I know not," answered the Black Eagle, "say ye!" But the Black Eagle believed the dream, and starting up, he called his warriors round him, and he sent Lynx Eyes, the sachem of the Bear, to the north, and led his own warriors to the south, saying: "Let us go and meet these ten men, and tell them, if they be really brethren of the Oneidas, to come with us, and smoke the pipe of peace together, and eat and drink in our lodges and return to their own land when they are satisfied; but if their hearts are black and their tongues double, to put on the warpaint openly, and unbury the long buried hatchet, and take the warpath like men and warriors, and not creep to mischief like the silent copperhead!" These last words were spoken in a voice of thunder, while his keen black eyes flashed, and his whole form seemed to dilate with indignation. The Mohawks stood silent before him, and even the young chief who had shown himself the boldest amongst them bent down his eyes to the ground. At length, however, he answered: "The Black Eagle has spoken well, and he has done well, though he should not put too much faith in such dreams. The Mohawk is the brother of the Oneida; the children of the Stone and the men of blood are one, though the Mohawk judges the Oneida hasty, in deeds. He is the panther that springs upon his prey from on high, before he sees whether it is not the doe that nourishes his young. He forgets hospitality----" The eyes of the Black Eagle flashed fiercely for a moment, but then the fire went out in them, and a grave, and even sad look succeeded. The young man went on boldly, however, saying: "He forgets hospitality. He takes to death the son of his brother, and sheds the blood of him who has eaten of the same meat with him. He waits not to punish the guilty, but raises his tomahawk against his friend. The Five Nations are a united people; that which brings shame upon one brings it upon all. The Mohawk's eyes are full of fire and his head bends down, when men say 'the Oneida is inhospitable; the Oneida is hasty to slay, and repays faith, and trust, and kindness by death.' What shall we say to our white father beyond the salt waters, when he asks us, 'Where is my son Walter, who loved the Oneidas, who was their brother, who sat by their council fire, and smoked the pipe of peace with them?' Shall we say, 'The Oneidas have slain him because he trusted to the hospitality of the Five Nations and did not fly?' When he asks us, 'What was his crime?' and 'Did the Oneidas judge him for it like calm and prudent men?' shall we answer, 'He had no crime, and the Oneidas took him in haste, without judgment. He was full of love and kindness toward them--a maple tree overrunning with honey for the Oneidas, but they seized him in haste, when, in a few moons, they could have found many others.' If we say that, what will our great father think of his red children? Black Eagle, judge thou of this, and when thou dreamest another dream, see thou forked-tongued serpents hissing at the Five Nations, and ask, 'Who made them hiss?' I have spoken." The feeling excited by this speech in all the Oneida warriors who heard it would be difficult to describe. There was much anger, but there was more shame. The latter was certainly predominant in the breast of Black Eagle. He put his hand to his shoulder, as if seeking for his mantle to draw over his face, and after a long pause he said: "Alas! that I have no answer. Thou art a youth, and my heart is old. My people should not leave me without reply before a boy. Go in peace! I will send my answer to him who sent thee, for our brethren the Mohawks have not dealt well with us in using subtlety. There are more of you, however. Let each of them return to his home, for the children of the Stone are masters of themselves." "Of us there are no more than thou seest," answered the young man. Black Eagle gazed at him somewhat sternly, and then answered: "Six men have entered the Oneida lands from this side since morning yesterday, by separate ways. Let them go back. We give them from sun to sun, and no one shall hurt them; but if they be found here after that, their scalps shall hang upon the warpost." Thus saying, he turned and withdrew with his warriors, the young Mohawk and his companions glided back through the woods toward their own district, almost as silently as they came. The returning path of the great Oneida chief was pursued by him and his companions with a slow and heavy tread. Not a word was spoken by anyone, for there were both deep grief and embarrassment upon each; and all felt that there was much justice in the reproof of the young Mohawk. They had come forth with feelings of indignation and anger at the intelligence which had been received of the interference of other tribes in the affairs of the Oneida people, and they still felt much irritation at the course which had been pursued; but still their pride was humbled, and their native sense of justice touched by the vivid picture which had just been given of the view which might be taken by others of their conduct toward Walter Prevost. At this time, while the confederacy of the five powerful nations remained entire, and a certain apprehensive sense of their danger from the encroachments of the Europeans was felt by all the Indian tribes, a degree of power and authority had fallen to the great chiefs which probably had not been attributed to them in earlier and more simple times. The great chief of the Mohawks called himself king, and in some degree exercised the authority of a monarch. Black Eagle, indeed, assumed no different title from the ordinary Indian appellation of sachem, but his great renown and his acknowledged wisdom had, perhaps, rendered his authority more generally reverenced than that of any other chief in the confederacy. The responsibility, therefore, weighed strongly upon him, and it was with feelings of deep gloom and depression that he entered the great Oneida village shortly before the hour of sunset. The women and children were assembled to see the warriors pass, excepting Otaitsa, who sat before the door of Black Eagle's great lodge, with her head bent down, under an oppressive sense of the difficulties and dangers of her coming task. Black Eagle saw her well, and saw that she was moved by deep grief; but he gave no sign even of perceiving her, and moving slowly, and with an unchanged countenance, to the door, he seated himself by her side, while his warriors ranged themselves round, and the women and young people formed another circle beyond the first. It was done without concert and without intimation, but all knew that the chief would speak before they parted. Otaitsa remained silent, in the same position, out of reverence for her father, and, after a short pause, the voice of the Black Eagle was heard, saying: "My children, your father is grieved. Were he a woman, he would weep. The reproach of his people, and the evil conduct of his allies, would bring water into the eyes that never were moist. But there is a storm upon us, the heaviest storm that ever has fallen. The waters of our lake are troubled, and we have troubled them ourselves. We must have counsel. We must call the wisdom of many men to avert the storm. Let, then, three of my swiftest warriors speed away to the heads of the eight tribes, telling them to come hither before the west is dark to-morrow, bringing with them their wisest men. Then shall my children know my mind, and the Black Eagle shall have strength again." He paused, and Otaitsa sprang upon her feet, believing that intelligence of what she had done had reached her father's ears. "Ere thou sendest for thy chiefs, hear thy daughter!" Black Eagle was surprised, but no sign of it was apparent on his face. He slowly bowed his head, and the Blossom went on: "Have I not been an obedient child to thee? Have I not loved thee, and followed thy slightest word? I am thy child altogether. Thou hast taken me often to the dwelling of the white man, because he is of my kindred. Thou hast often left me there whilst thou hast gone upon the warpath, or hunted in the mountains. Thou hast said, 'They are of our own blood. My wife, my beloved, was of high race amongst the paleface people of the east, the daughter of a great chief. I saved her in the day of battle, and she became mine; and true and faithful, loving and just, was the child of the white chief to the great sachem of the Oneidas. Shall I keep her daughter from all communication with her kindred?' Young was I, a mere child, when first thou tookest me there, and Edith was a sister, Walter a brother to me. They both loved me well, and I loved them; but my love for the brother grew stronger than for the sister, and his for me. We told our love to each other, and he said, 'When I am old enough to go upon the warpath I will ask the Black Eagle to give me Otaitsa, and the red chief and the white chief shall again be united, and the bonds between the Oneidas and the English people shall be strengthened;' and we dreamed a dream that all this would be true, and pledged ourselves to each other forever. Now, what have I done, my father? The brethren of the Snake, and the chief Apukwa, contrary to the customs of the Oneidas, seized upon my betrothed, carried off my husband captive four days after their brother was slain by a white man, but not by my Walter. It is not for me to know the laws of the Oneidas, or to speak of the traditions of our fathers, but in this, at least, I knew that they had done evil; they had taken an innocent man before they had sought for the guilty. I found the place where they had hid him. I climbed to the top of the rock above the chasm. I descended the face of the precipice. I tied two ropes to the trees for his escape. I loosened the thongs from his hands, and from his feet, and I said, 'This night thou shalt flee, my husband, and escape the wrath of thine enemies.' All this I did, and what is it? It may be against the law of the Oneidas, but it is the law of a woman's own heart, placed there by the Great Spirit. It is what my mother would have done for thee, my father, hadst thou been a captive in the hands of thine enemies. Had I not done it, I should not have been thy child, I should have been unworthy to call the Black Eagle father. The daughter of a chief must act as the daughter of a chief. The child of a great warrior must have no fear. If I am to die, I am ready." She paused for a moment, and Black Eagle raised his head, which had been slightly bowed, and said, in a loud, clear voice: "Thou hast done well, my child. So let every Indian woman do for him to whom she is bound. The women of the children of the Stone are not as other women. Like the stone, they are firm; like the rock, they are lofty. They bear warriors for the nation. They teach them to do great deeds." "Yet bear with me a little, my father," said Otaitsa, "and let thy daughter's fate be in thy hand before all the eyes here present. Apukwa and the brethren of the Snake had set a watch, and stole upon me and upon my white brother, and mocked thy daughter and her husband, and bound his hands and feet again, and said that he shall die!" It is rare that an Indian interrupts the speech of anyone, but the heart of the chief had been altogether with Otaitsa's enterprise, and he now exclaimed, with great anxiety, "Then has he not escaped?" "He has not," replied Otaitsa. "It went as I have said. Walter Prevost is still in the hands of the brethren of the Snake and of Apukwa, and he is not safe, my father, even until the nation shall have decided what shall be his fate. When the nation speaks," she continued, emboldened by her father's approbation, "then will Otaitsa live or die, for I tell thee, and I tell all the warriors here present, that if my husband is slain for no offence by the hand of an Oneida, the daughter of the chief dies, too!" "Koui! koui!" murmured the chiefs, in a low, sad tone, as they gazed upon her, standing in her great beauty by her father's side, while the setting sun peeped out from beneath the edge of the snow cloud and cast a gleam of rosy light around her. "He is not safe even till the word is spoken," said Otaitsa, "for they are bad men that hold him. They took him contrary to our customs. They despise our laws. They are Honontkoh, and fear nothing but the tomahawk of the Black Eagle. They drink blood. They slay their mothers and their brethren. They are Honontkoh!" A murmur of awe and indignation at the hated name of the dark secret order existing amongst the Indians, but viewed with apprehension and hatred by all the more noble warriors of the tribes, ran round the circle, and Black Eagle rose, saying: "Let them be examined, and if the stripe be found upon them, set honest men to guard the lad. To-morrow, at the great council, we will discuss his fate, and the Great Spirit send us dreams of what is right. Come with me, my child. The Blossom is ever dear." Thus saying, he turned and entered the lodge. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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