The Hidden Children

  CHAPTER XII

  AT THE FORD

  When at length from the forest's edge we saw star-beams splinteringover broken water, cutting the flat, translucent darkness of the riverwith necklaces of light, we halted; for this was the ford foaming therein obscurity with its silvery, mellow voice, unheeded in thewilderness, yet calling ever as that far voice called through theshadows of ages dead.

  Now, from where we stood the faint line of sparkles seemed to run alittle way into the darkness and vanish. But the indications weresufficient to mark the spot where we should enter the water; and,stepping with infinite precaution, we descended to the gravel. Here westripped to the clout and laid our rifles on our moccasins, coveringthe pans with our hunting shirts. Then we strapped on our war-belts,loosening knife and hatchet, pulled over our feet our spareankle-moccasins of oiled moose-hide soled with the coarse hair of thegreat, blundering beast himself.

  I led, setting foot in the icy water, and moving out into the shadowwith no more noise than a chub's swirl or a minnow's spatter-leap whena great chain-pike snaps at him.

  Feeling my way over bed stones and bottom gravel with my feet, strivingin vain to pierce the dense obscurity, I moved forward with infinitecaution, balancing as best I might against the current. Ankle-deep,shin-deep, knee-deep we waded out. Presently the icy current chilled mythighs, rising to my waistline. But it grew no deeper.

  Yet, here so swift was the current that I scarcely dared move, and waspeering around to find the Sagamore, when a shape loomed up on my left.And I reached out and rested my hand on the shadowy shoulder, and stoodso, swaying against the stream.

  Suddenly a voice said, in the Seneca dialect:

  "Is it thou, Butler?"

  And every drop of blood froze in my body.

  God knows how I found voice to answer "Yes," and how I found courage tolet my hand remain upon my enemy's shoulder.

  "It is I, Hiokatoo," said the low voice.

  "Move forward," I said; and dropped my hand from his shoulder.

  Somehow, although I could see nothing, all around me in the water Ifelt the presence of living creatures. At the same moment somebody cameclose to me from behind, and the Sagamore breathed his name in my ear.

  I managed to retain my presence of mind, and, laying my mouth againsthis ear in the darkness, I whispered:

  "The Seneca Hiokatoo and his warriors--all around us in the water. Hemistakes me for Walter Butler, They have been reconnoitring our camp."

  I felt the body of the Mohican stiffen under my grasp, Then he saidquietly:

  "Stand still till all have passed us."

  "Yes; but let no Seneca hear your Algonquin speech. If any speak I willanswer for you."

  "It is well," said the Sagamore quietly. And I heard him cautiouslyloosening his hatchet.

  Presently a dark form took shape in the gloom and passed us withoutspeaking; then another, and another, and another, all wading forwardwith scarce a ripple sounding against their painted bodies. Then onecame up who spoke also in Seneca dialect, saying to the Mohican thatthe canoe was to be sent up stream on observation, and asking thewhereabouts of McDonald.

  So they were all there, the bloody crew! But once more I found voice toorder the Seneca across, saying that I would attend to the canoe whenthe time came to employ it.

  This Indian seemed to understand very little English, and he hesitated;but I laid my hand flat on his naked back, and gave him a slight shovetoward the farther shore. And he went on, muttering.

  Two more passed. We waited in nervous silence for the next, not knowinghow many had been sent to prowl around our camp. And as no more came, Iwhispered to the Sagamore:

  "Let us go back. If more are to come, and if there be among them Butleror McDonald or any white man, he will never mistake me for any of hisfellows after he hears me speak."

  The Sagamore turned, the water swirling to his waist. I followed. Weencountered nobody until the water began to shoal. Then, in mid-stream,a dark figure loomed out of the night, confronting us, and I heard himsay in the Seneca language:

  "Halt and turn. You travel the wrong way!"

  "Go forward and mind your business!" I said in English.

  The shadowy figure seemed astounded, remaining motionless there in theford. Suddenly he bent forward as though to see my features, and at thesame instant the Sagamore seized him and jerked his head under water.

  But he could not hold him, for the fellow was oiled, and floundered upin the same instant. No doubt the water he had swallowed kept the yellsafe in his throat, but his hatchet was out and high-swung as theSagamore grasped his wrist, holding his arm in the air. Then, holdinghim so, the Mohican passed his knife through the man's heart, strikingwith swiftness incredible again and again; and as his victim collapsed,he eased him down into the water, turned him over, and took hisshoulders between his knees.

  "God!" I whispered. "Don't wait for that!"

  But the Siwanois warrior was not to be denied; and in a second or twothe wet scalp flapped at his belt.

  Rolling over and over with the current, the limp body slipped downstream and disappeared into deeper shadows. We waded swiftly toward ourown shore, crawled across the gravel, drew on our clothing, and stoleup into the woods above.

  "They'll know it by sunrise," I said. "How many did you count?"

  "Thirteen in that war-party, Loskiel. And if Butler and McDonald bewith them, that makes fifteen--and doubtless other renegades besides."

  "Then we had best pull foot," said I. And I drew my knife and blazedthe ford; and, as well as I might without seeing, wrote the depth ofwater on the scar.

  I heard the Mohican's low laughter.

  "The Senecas will see it and destroy it. But it will drive themfrantic," he said.

  "Whatever they do to this tree will but mark the ford more plainly,"said I.

  And the Mohican laughed and laughed and patted my shoulder, as we movedfast on our back trail. I think he was excited, veteran though he was,at his taking of a Seneca warrior's scalp. "Had you not jerked himunder water when he leaned forward over your shoulder to see whatmanner of man was speaking English," said I, "doubtless he had awakenedthe forest with his warning yell in another moment."

  "Let him yell at the fishes, now," said the Mohican, laughing. "Nodoubt the eels will understand him; they are no more slippery than he."

  Save for the vague forms of the trees dimly discerned against thewater, the darkness was impenetrable; and except for these guides, evenan Indian could scarcely have moved at all. We followed the bank,keeping just within the shadows; and I was ever scanning the spots ofstarlit water for that same canoe which I had learned was to goupstream to watch us.

  Presently the Siwanois checked me and whispered:

  "Yonder squats your Wyandotte sentinel."

  "Where? I can not see him."

  "On that flat rock by the deep water, seeming a part of it."

  "Are you certain?"

  "Yes, Loskiel."

  "You saw him move?"

  "No. But a Siwanois of the Magic Clan makes nothing of darkness. Hesees where he chooses to see.

  "Mayaro," said I, "what do you make of this Wyandotte?"

  "He has quitted his post without orders for a spot by the deep water. Acanoe could come there, and he could speak to those within it."

  "That might damn a white soldier, but an Indian is different."

  "He is a Wyandotte--or says he is."

  "Yes, but he came with credentials from Fortress Pitt."

  "Once," said the Sagamore, "he wore his hair in a ridge."

  "If the Eries learned that from the Nez Perces, why might not theWyandottes also learn it?"

  "He wears the Hawk."

  "Yes, I know it."

  "He saw the moccasin tracks in the sand at the other ford, Loskiel, andremained silent."

  "I know it."

  "And I believe, also, that he saw the canoe."

  "Then," said I, "you mean that this Wyandotte is a traitor."

  "
If he be a Wyandotte at all."

  "What?"

  "He may be Huron; he may be a Seneca-Huron. But we Indians thinkdifferently, Loskiel."

  "What do you think?"

  "We do not know for certain. But"--and the Mohican's voice becamequietly ferocious--"if a war-arrow ever struck this Wyandotte betweenthe shoulders I think every tree-cat in the Long House would squall atthe condoling council."

  "You think this Wyandotte an Erie in disguise?" I asked incredulously.

  "We Indians of different nations are asking that question of eachother, Loskiel."

  "What is the mind of the Grey-Feather concerning this?" I asked,horrified.

  "Oneida and Stockbridge begin to believe as I believe."

  "That this creature is a spy engaged to lead us to our deaths? Do theybelieve that this self-styled Wyandotte is an infamous Erie?"

  "We so believe, Loskiel. We are not yet certain."

  "But you who have taken Erie scalps should know----"

  "We know an Erie by his paint and lock; by his arms and moccasins. Butwhen an Erie wears none of these it is not easy to determine exactlywhat he might be. There is, in the Western nation, much impure blood,much mixing of captive and adopted prisoners with the Senecaconquerors. If an Erie wear cats' claws at the root of his scalp-lock,even a blind Quaker might know him. If one of their vile priests wearhis hair in a ridge, then, unless he be a Nez Perce, there need be nodoubt. But this man dresses and paints and conducts like no Erie I haveever seen. And yet I believe him one, and a Sachem at that!"

  "Then, by God!" said I in a cold fury. "I will go down to the streamand put him under arrest until such time as his true colours may beproperly determined!"

  "Loskiel, if yonder Indian once saw in your eye that you meant to takehim, he would slip between your hands like a spotted trout and be offdown stream to his comrades. Go not toward him angry, or with anythingin your manner and voice that he might distrust."

  "I never learned to smile in the face of a traitor!"

  "Learn now, then. Brother, you are young; and war is long. And of manyaspects are they who take arms in their hands to slay. Strength isgood; quickness and a true eye to the rifle-sight are good. But best ofall in war are the calmness and patience of wisdom. A Sagamore hasspoken."

  "What would you have me do?"

  "Nothing, yet."

  "But we must make a night march of it, and I could not endure thatinfamous creature's company, even if it were safe for us to take himwith us."

  "My brother may remain tranquil. The Grey-Feather and I are watchinghim. The praying Indian and Tahoontowhee understand also. When we onceare certain, the Erie dies."

  "When you are certain," said I in a fury, "I will have him properlytried by military court and hung as high as Amherst hung two of hisfellow devils. I wish to God he had executed the entire nation while hewas about it. For once Sir William Johnson was wrong to interfere."

  The Sagamore laughed and laid one hand on my shoulder:

  "Is it a custom for an Ensign to pass judgment on a Major-General, OLoskiel, my dear but much younger brother?"

  I blushed hot with annoyance and shame. Of all things on earth,self-control was the most necessary quality to any officer commandingIndians.

  "The Sagamore is right," I said in a mortified voice.

  "The Sagamore has lived longer than his younger brother," he rejoinedgently.

  "And is far wiser," said I.

  "A little wiser in some few things concerning human life, Loskiel....Does my brother desire that Mayaro shall bring in the Wyandotte?"

  "Bring him," I said; and walked forward toward our camp.

  Tahoontowhee stopped me with his challenge, then sprang forward at thesound of my voice.

  "Men in the woods," he whispered, "creeping up from the South. They sawno fire and prowled no nearer than panthers prowl when they know a campis awake."

  "Senecas," I said briefly. "We make a night march of it. Remain onguard here. The Grey-Feather will bring your pack to you when we pickyou up."

  As I ascended the rocky pulpit, both the Grey-Feather and theStockbridge were standing erect and wide awake, packs strapped andslung, rifles in hand.

  "Senecas," I said. "Too many for us."

  "Are we not to strike?" asked the Oneida wistfully, as the Mohican cameswiftly up the rock followed by the Wyandotte, who seemed inclined tolag.

  "Why did you quit your post?" I asked him bluntly.

  "There was a better post and more to see on the rock," he said simply.

  "You made a mistake. Your business is to obey your commanding officer.Do you understand?"

  "The Black-Snake understands."

  "Did you discover nothing from your rock?"

  "Nothing. Deer moved in the woods."

  "Red deer," I said coolly.

  "A July deer is in the red coat always."

  "The deer you heard are red the whole year round."

  "Eho! The Black-Snake understands."

  "Very well. Tie your pack, sling it, and shoulder your rifle. We marchimmediately."

  He seemed to be willing enough, and tied his points with alacrity. Norcould I, watching him as well I might in so dark a spot, see anythingsuspicious in any movement he made.

  "The Sagamore leads," I said; "the Black-Snake follows; I follow him;after me the Mole; and the Oneidas close the rear.... Attention!...Trail arms! File!"

  And as we climbed out of our pulpit and descended over the moss to thesoundless carpet of moist leaves:

  "Silence," I said. "A sound may mean the death of us all. Cover yourrifle-pans with your blankets. No matter what happens, no man is tofire without orders----"

  I stopped abruptly and laid my hand on the Black-Snake'shatchet-sheath, feeling it all over with my finger-tips in the dark.

  "Damnation!" I said. "There are tin points on the fringe! You mightbetter wear a cow-bell! Where did you get it?"

  "It was in my pack."

  "You have not worn it before. Why do you wear it now?"

  "It is looser in time of need."

  "Very well. Stand still." I whipped out my knife and, bunching thefaintly tinkling thrums in my fingers, severed the tin points andtossed them into the darkness.

  "I can understand," said I, "a horse-riding Indian of the plainsgalloping into battle all over cow-bells, but never before have I heardof any forest Indian wearing such a fringe in time of war."

  The rebuke seemed to stun the Wyandotte. He kept his face averted whileI spoke, then at my brief word stepped forward into his place betweenmyself and the Mohican.

  "March!" I said in a low voice.

  The Sagamore led us in a wide arc north, then west; and there was nohope of concealing or covering our trail, for in the darkness no mancould see exactly where the man in front of him set foot, nor hope toavoid the wet sand of rivulets or the soft moss which took the imprintof every moccasin as warm wax yields to the seal.

  That there was in the primeval woods no underbrush, save along streamsor where the windfall had crashed earthward, made travelling in silencepossible.

  The forest giants branched high; no limbs threatened us; or, if therewere any, the Sagamore truly had the sight of all night-creatures, fornot once did a crested head brush the frailest twig; not once did amoccasined foot crash softly through dead and fallen wood.

  The slope toward the river valley became steeper; we travelled along aheavily-wooded hillside at an angle that steadily increased. After anhour of this, we began to feel rock under foot, and our moccasinscrushed patches of reindeer moss, dry as powder.

  It was in such a place as this, or by wading through running water,that there could be any hope of hiding our trail; and as we began totraverse a vast, flat shoulder of naked rock, I saw that the Mohicanmeant to check and perplex any pursuit next morning.

  What was my disgust, then, to observe that the Wyandotte's moccasinswere soaking wet, and that he left at every step his mark for themorning sun to dry at leisure.

  Stooping stealthily
, I laid my hand flat in his wet tracks, and feltthe grit of sand. Accidentally or otherwise, he had stepped into somespring brook which we had crossed in the darkness. Clearly the man wasa fool, or something else.

  And I was obliged to halt the file and wait until the Wyandotte hadchanged to spare moccasins; which I am bound to say he seemed to dowillingly enough. And my belief in his crass stupidity grew, relievingme of fiercer sentiments which I had begun to harbour as I thought ofall we knew or suspected concerning this man.

  So it was forward once more across the naked, star-lit rock, whereblueberry bushes grew from crevices, and here and there some tallevergreen, the roots of which were slowly sundering the rock into soil.

  Rattlesnakes were unpleasantly numerous here--this country beingnotorious for them, especially where rocks abound. But so that theysprung their goblin rattles in the dark to warn us, we had less fear ofthem than of that slyer and no less deadly cousin of theirs, whichmoved abroad at night as they did, but was often too lazy or toovicious to warn us.

  The Mohican sprang aside for one, and ere I could prevent him, theWyandotte had crushed it. And how to rebuke him I scarcely knew, forwhat he had done seemed natural enough. Yet, though the Mohican seizedthe twisting thing and flung it far into the blueberry scrub, the marksof a bloody heel were now somewhere on the rocks for the rising sun todry but not to obliterate. God alone knew whether such repeatedevidence of stupidity meant anything worse. But now I was resolved tohave done with this Indian at the first opportunity, and risk thechance of clearing myself of any charge concerning disobedience oforders as soon as I could report to General Sullivan with my command.

  The travelling now, save for the dread of snakes, was pleasant andopen. We had been gradually ascending during the last two hours, andnow we found ourselves traversing the lengthening crest of a rocky andtreeless ridge, with valleys on either side of us, choked withmotionless lakes of mist, which seemed like vast snow fields under thesplendour of the stars.

  I think we all were weary enough to drop in our tracks and sleep as wefell. But I gave no order to halt, nor did I dream of interfering withthe Sagamore, or even ask him a single question. It was promising togive me a ruder schooling than my regiment could offer me--thistravelling with men who could outrun and outmarch the vast majority ofwhite men.

  Yet, I had been trained under Major Parr, and with such men in mycommand as Elerson, Mount, and Murphy; and I had run with Oneidasbefore and scouted far and wide with the best of them.

  It was the rock-running that tired us, and I for one was grateful whenwe left the starlit obscurity of the ridge and began to swing downward,first through berry scrub and ground-hemlock, then through a thin beltof birches into the dense blackness of the towering forest.

  Down, ever down we moved on a wide-slanting and easy circle, such asthe high hawk swings when he is but a speck in the midsummer sky.

  Presently the ground under our feet became level. A low, murmuringsound stole out of the darkness, pleasantly filling our ears as weadvanced. A moment later, the Mohican halted; and we caught a faintgleam in the darkness.

  "Sisquehanne," he said.

  If, was the Susquehanna. Tired as I was I could not forbear a smilewhen this Mohican saluted the noble river by its Algonquin name in thepresence of those haughty Iroquois who owned it. And it seemed to me asthough I could hear the feathered crests stiffen on the two Oneidaheads; for this was Oneida country, and they had been maliciouslyreminded that the Lenape had once named for them their river undercircumstances in which no Iroquois took any pride. Little evidences ofthe subtle but ever-living friction between my Mohican and the twoOneidas were plenty, but never more maliciously playful than this. Andpresently I heard the Sagamore politely mention the Ouleout by itsIroquois name, Aulyoulet, which means "a voice that continues"; andwhile I sent the Night-Hawk down to the water to try for a crossing,Mohican and Oneida conversed very amiably, the topic being our enemies,and how it was that on the Ouleout and in Pennsylvania they had sooften spared the people of that state and had directed their full furytoward New York.

  The Oneida said it was because the Iroquois had no quarrel with Penn'speople, who themselves disliked the intruding Yankee and New Yorker;but they were infuriated against us because we had driven the Iroquoisfrom their New York lands and had punished them so dreadfully atOriskany. And he further said that Cherry Valley would not have beenmade such a shambles except that Colonel Clyde and Colonel Campbelllived there, who had done them so much injury at Oriskany.

  I myself thought that this was the truth, for no Iroquois ever forgaveus Oriskany; and what we were now about to do to them must foreverleave an implacable and unquenchable hatred between the Long House andthe people of New York.

  For on this river which we now followed, and between us and Tioga,where our main army lay, were the pretty Iroquois towns, Ingaren,Owaga, Chenang, and Owega, with their well-built and well-cellaredhouses, their tanneries, mills, fields of corn and potatoes, orchards,and pleasant gardens full of watermelons, muskmelons, peas, beans,squashes--in fact, everything growing that might ornament the estate ofa proud man of my own colour. Thus had the Mohican described thesetowns to me. And now, as I sat weary, thinking, I knew that even beforeour army at Otsego joined the Tioga army, it would utterly destroythese towns on its way down; ruin the fields, and burn and girdle theorchards.

  And this was not even the beginning of our destined march ofdestruction and death from one end of the Long House to the other!

  Now our Oneida crept back to us, saying that the river was so low wecould cross up to our arm-pits; and stood there naked, a slender andperfect statue, all adrip, and balancing pack and rifle on his head.

  Wearily we picked our way down to the willows, stripped, hoisted riflesand packs, and went into the icy water. It seemed almost impossible forme to find courage and energy to dress, even after that chilling andinvigorating plunge; but at last I was into my moccasins and shirtagain. The Sagamore strode lightly to the lead; the Wyandotte startedfor the rear, but I shoved him next to the Mohican and in front of me,hating him suddenly, so abrupt and profound was my conviction that hisstupidity was a studied treachery and not the consequences of a loutishmind.

  "That is your place," I said sharply.

  "You gave no orders."

  "Nor did I rescind my last order, which was that you march behind theSagamore."

  "Is that to be the order of march?" he asked.

  "What do you mean by questioning your officer?" I demanded.

  "I am no soldier, but an Indian!" he said sullenly.

  "You are employed and paid as a guide by General Sullivan, are you not?Very well. Then obey my orders to the letter, or I'll put you underarrest!"

  That was not the way to talk to any Indian; but such a great loathingand contempt far this Wyandotte had seized me, so certain in my mindwas I that he was disloyal and that every stupid act of his had beendone a-purpose, that I could scarce control my desire to take him bythat thick, bull-throat of his and kick him into the river.

  For every stupid act or omission of his--or any single one ofthem--might yet send us all to our deaths. And their aggregate nowincensed me; for I could not see how we were entirely to escape theirconsequences.

  Again and again I was on the point of ordering a halt and having thefellow tried; but I dreaded the effect of such summary proceedings onthe Oneidas and the Stockbridge, whose sense of justice was keen, andwho might view with alarm such punishment meted out to mere stupidity.

  It was very evident that neither they nor my Mohican had come to anydefinite conclusion concerning the Wyandotte. And until they did so,and until I had the unerring authority of my Indians' opinions, I didnot care to go on record as either a brutal or a hasty officer. Indiansentertain profound contempt for the man who arrives hastily and lightlyat conclusions, without permitting himself leisure for deep anddignified reflection.

  And I was well aware that with these Indians the success of anyenterprise depended entirely upon their opi
nion of me, upon my personalinfluence with them.

  Dawn was breaking before the Sagamore turned his head toward me. I gavethe signal to halt.

  "The Ouleout," whispered Tahoontowhee in my ear. "Here is itsconfluence with the Susquehanna."

  The Mohican nodded, saying that we now stood on a peninsula.

  I tried to make out the character of the hillock where we stood, but itwas not yet light enough to see whether the place was capable ofdefence, although it would seem to be, having two streams to flank it.

  "Sagamore," said I, "you and I will stand guard for the first twohours. Sleep, you others."

  One after another unrolled his blanket and dropped where he stood. TheMohican came quietly toward me and sat down to watch the Susquehanna,his rifle across his knees. As for me, I dared not sit, much less lieflat, for fear sleep would overpower me. So I leaned against a rock,resting heavily on my rifle, and strained my sleepy eyes toward theinvisible Ouleout. A level stream of mist, slowly whitening, marked itscourse; and "The Voice that Continues" sounded dreamily among the treesthat bordered its shallow flood of crystal.

  Toward sunrise I caught the first glimmer of water; in fact, so nearwas I that I could hear the feeding trout splashing along the reaches,and the deer, one by one, retreating from the shore.

  Birds that haunt woodland edges were singing, spite of their moultingfever; and I heard the Scarlet Tanager, the sweet call of the CrimsonCardinal, the peeping of the Recollet chasing gnats above the water,the lovely, linked notes of the White-throat trailing to a minorinfinitely prolonged.

  Greyer, greyer grew the woods; louder sang the birds; suddenly adazzling shaft of pink struck the forest; the first shred of mistcurled, detached itself, and floated slowly upward. The sun had risen.

  Against the blinding glory, looming gigantic in the mist, I saw theSagamore, an awful apparition in his paint, turn to salute the risingsun. Then, the mysterious office of his priesthood done, he lifted hisrifle, tossed the heavy piece lightly to his shoulder, and strodetoward me.

  I shook the sleeping Oneidas, and, as they sprang to their feet, Ipointed out their posts to them, laid my rifle on my sack, and droppedwhere I stood like a lump of lead.

  I was aroused toward nine by the Mohican, and sat up as wide awake as adisturbed tree-cat, instantly ready for trouble.

  "An Oneida on the Ouleout," he said.

  "Where?"

  "Yonder--just across."

  "Friendly?"

  "He has made the sign."

  "An ambassador?"

  "A runner, not a belt-bearer."

  "Bring him to me."

  Strung along the banks of the Ouleout, each behind a tree, I saw myIndians crouching, rifles ready. Then, on the farther bank, at thewater's shallow edge, I saw the strange Indian--a tall, spare youngfellow, absolutely naked except clout, ankle moccasins, hatchet-girdle,and pouch; and wearing no paint except a white disc on his forehead thesize of a shilling. A single ragged frond hung from his scalp lock.

  Answering the signal of the Mohican, he sprang lightly into the streamand crossed the shallow water. My Oneidas seemed to know him, for theyaccosted him smilingly, and Tahoontowhee turned and accompanied himback toward the spot where I was standing, naively exhibiting to thestranger his first scalp. Which seemed to please the dusty andbrier-torn runner, for he was all smiles and animation until he caughtsight of me. Then instantly the mask of blankness smoothed hisfeatures, so that when I confronted him he was utterly withoutexpression.

  I held out my hand, saying quietly:

  "Welcome, brother."

  "I thank my brother for his welcome," he said, taking my offered hand.

  "My brother is hungry," I said. "He shall eat. He is weary because hehas came a long distance. He shall rest unquestioned." I seated myselfand motioned him to follow my example.

  The tall, lank fellow looked earnestly at me; Tahoontowhee lighted apipe, drew a deep, full inhalation from it, passed it to me. I drewtwice, passed it to the runner. Then Tahoontowhee laid a square of barkon the stranger's knees; I poured on it from my sack a little parchedcorn, well salted, and laid beside it a bit of dry and twisted meat.Tahoontowhee did the same. Then, very gravely and in silence we ate ourmorning meal with this stranger, as though he had been a friend of manyyears.

  "The birds sing sweetly," observed Tahoontowhee politely.

  "The weather is fine," said I urbanely.

  "The Master of Life pities the world He fashioned. All should givethanks to Him at sunrise," said the runner quietly.

  The brief meal ended, Tahoontowhee laid his sack for a pillow; thestrange Oneida stretched out on the ground, laid his dusty head on it,and closed his eyes. The next moment he opened them and rose to hisfeet. The ceremony and hospitality devolving upon me had been formallyand perfectly accomplished.

  As I rose, free now to question him without losing dignity in his eyes,he slipped the pouch he wore around in front, where his heavy knife andhatchet hung, and drew from it some letters.

  Holding these unopened in my hand, I asked him who he was and from whomand whence he came.

  "I am Red Wings, a Thaowethon Oneida of Ironderoga, runner for GeneralClinton--and my credentials are this wampum string, so that you shallknow that I speak the truth!" And he whipped a string of red and blackwampum from his pouch and handed it to me.

  Holding the shining coil in my hands, I looked at him searchingly.

  "By what path did you come?"

  "By no path. I left Otsego as you left, crossed the river where you hadcrossed, recrossed where you did not recross, but where a canoe hadlanded."

  "And then?"

  "I saw the Mengwe," he said politely, as the Sagamore came up besidehim.

  Mayaro smiled his appreciation of the Algonquin term, then he spat,saying:

  "The Mengwe were Sinako and Mowawak. One has joined the Eel Clan."

  "The Red Wings saw him. The Cat-People of the Sinako sat in a circlearound that scalpless thing and sang like catamounts over their dead!"

  It is impossible to convey the scorn, contempt, insult, and loathingexpressed by the Mohican and the Oneida, unless one truly understandthe subtlety of the words they used in speaking of their common enemies.

  "The Red Wings came by the Charlotte River?" I asked.

  "By the Cherry, Quenevas, and Charlotte to the Ouleout. The Mengwefired on me as I stood on a high cliff and mocked them."

  "Did they follow you?"

  "Can my brother Loskiel trail feathered wings through the high airpaths? A little way I let them follow, then took wing, leaving them towhine and squall on the Susquehanna."

  "And Butler and McDonald?" I demanded, smiling.

  "I do not know. I saw white men's tracks on the Charlotte, not twohours old. They pointed toward the Delaware. The Minisink lies there."

  I nodded. "Now let the Red Wings fold his feathers and go to rest," Isaid, "until I have read my letters and considered them."

  The Oneida immediately threw himself on the ground and drew his pouchunder his head. Before I could open my first letter, he was asleep andbreathing quietly as a child. And, on his naked shoulder, I saw a smearof balsam plastered over with a hazel leaf, where a bullet had left itsfurrow. He had not even mentioned that he had been hit.

  The first letter was from my General Clinton:

  "Have a care," he wrote, "that your Indians prove faithful. TheWyandotte I assigned to your command made a poor impression among ourOneida guides. This I hear from Major Parr, who came to tell me soafter you had left. Remember, too, that you and your Mohican are mostnecessary to General Sullivan. Interpreters trained by Guy Johnson areanything but plenty; and another Mohican who knows the truest route toCatharines-town is not to be had for whistling."

  This letter decided me to rid myself of the Wyandotte. Here wassufficient authority; time enough had elapsed since he had joined usfor me to come to a decision. Even my Indians could not consider myjudgment hasty now.

  I cast a cold glance at him, where he stood in
the distance leaningagainst a huge walnut tree and apparently keeping watch across theOuleout. The Grey-Feather was watching there, too, and I had no doubtthat his wary eyes were fixed as often on the Wyandotte as on thewooded shore across the stream.

  A second letter was from Major Parr, and said:

  "An Oneida girl called Drooping Wings, of whom you bought some trumperyor other, came to the fort after you had left, and told me that amongthe party in their camp was an adopted Seneca who had seen andrecognized your Wyandotte as a Seneca and not as a Huron.

  "Not that this information necessarily means that the Indian calledBlack-Snake is a traitor. He brought proper credentials from theofficer commanding at Pitt. But it is best that you know of this, andthat you feel free to use your judgment accordingly."

  "Yes," said I to myself, "I'll use it."

  I took another long look at the suspect, then opened my third and lastletter. It was from Lois; and my heart beat the "general" so violentlythat for a moment it stopped my breath:

  "Euan Loskiel, my comrade, and my dear friend: Since you have gone,news has come that our General Wayne, with twelve hundred lightinfantry, stormed and took Stony Point on the Hudson on the 15th ofthis past month. All the stores, arms, ammunition, and guns are ours,with more than five hundred prisoners. The joy at this post iswonderful to behold; our soldiers are mad with delight and cheer allday long.

  "Lieutenant Beatty tells me that we have taken fourteen pieces of goodordnance, seven hundred stand of arms, tents, rum, cheese, wine, and anumber of other articles most agreeable to recount.

  "On Wednesday morning last a sad affair; at Troop Beating three menwere brought out to be shot, all found guilty of desertion, one fromthe 4th Pennsylvania, one from the 6th Massachusetts, and one from the3rd New York. The troops were drawn up on the grand parade. Two of themen were reprieved by the General; the third was shot.... It meant moreto me, kneeling in my room with both hands over my ears to shut out thevolley, than it meant to those who witnessed the awful scene. Marchingback, the fifes and drums played 'Soldiers' Joy.' I had forgotten tostop my ears, and heard them.

  "On Tuesday rain fell. News came at noon that Indians had surprised andkilled thirty-six haymakers near Fort Schuyler; and that other Indianshad taken fifteen or seventeen of our men who were gatheringblueberries at Sabbath Day Point. Whereupon Colonel Gansevoortimmediately marched for Canajoharie with his regiment, which had butjust arrived; and in consequence Betty Bleecker and Angelina aredesolate.

  "As you see from this letter, we have left Croghan's new house, and areliving at Otsego in a fine Bush House, and near to the place whereCroghan's old house stood before it was destroyed.

  "Sunday, after an all night rain, clear skies; and all the officerswere being schooled in saluting with the sword, the General looking on.In the afternoon the Chaplain, 'Parson' Gano, as the soldiers call him,gave us a sermon. I went with Betty and Angelina. Miss Helmer went onthe lake in a batteau with Mr. Boyd. The Rifles tried their guns on thelake, shooting at marks. Murphy and Elerson made no misses.

  "On Monday the officers had a punch, most respectable and gay. Weladies went with Major Parr, Lieutenant Boyd, and the Ensign you sodetest, to view the hilarity, but not to join, it being a sociableoccasion for officers only, the kegs of rum being offered by GeneralClinton--a gentleman not famed for his generosity in such matters.

  "This, Euan, is all the general news I have to offer, save that thearmy expects its marching orders at any moment now.

  "Euan, I am troubled in my heart. First, I must acquaint you that LanaHelmer and I have become friends. The night you left I was sitting inmy room, thinking; and Lana came in and drew my head on her shoulder.We said nothing to each other all that night, but slept together in myroom. And since then we have come to know each other very well in theway women understand each other. I love her dearly.

  "Euan, she will not admit it, but she is mad about Lieutenant Boyd--andit is as though she had never before loved and knows not how toconduct. Which is strange, as she has been so courted and is deeplyversed in experience, and has lived more free of restraint than mostwomen I ever heard of. Yet, it has taken her like a pernicious fever;and I do neither like nor trust that man, for all his good looks, andhis wit and manners, and the exceedingly great courage and militarysagacity which none denies him.

  "Yesterday Lana came to my little room in our Bush House, where I sleepon a bed of balsam, and we sat there, the others being out, and shetold me about Clarissa, and wept in the telling. What folly will not awoman commit for love! And Sir John riding the wilderness with hismurdering crew! May the Lord protect and aid all women from such birdso' passage and of prey! And I thought I had seen the pin-feathers ofsome such plumage on this man Boyd. But he may moult to a prettiercolour. I hope so--but in my heart I dare not believe it. For he is ofthat tribe of men who would have their will of every pretty petticoatthey notice. Some are less unscrupulous than others, that is the onlydifference. And he seems still to harbour a few scruples, judging fromwhat I see of him and her, and what I know of her.

  "Yet, if a man bear not his good intention plainly written on his face,and yet protests he dies unless you love him, what scruples he mayentertain will wither to ashes in the fiercer flame. And how after alldoes he really differ from the others?

  "Euan, I am sick of dread and worry, what with you out in the West withyour painted scouts, and Mr. Boyd telling me that he has his doubtsconcerning the reliability of one o' them! And what with Lana so whiteand unhappy, and coming into my bed to cry against my breast atnight----"

  Here the letter ended abruptly, and underneath in hurried writing:

  "Major Parr calls to say that an Oneida runner is ordered to try tofind you with despatches from headquarters. I had expected to send thisletter by some one in your own regiment when it marched. But now Ishall intrust it to the runner.

  "I know not how to close my letter--how to say farewell--how to let youknow how truly my heart is yours. And becomes more so every hour. Norcan you understand how humbly I thank God for you--that you are whatyou are--and not like Sir John and--other men.

  "Women are of a multitude of kinds--until they love. Then they are ofbut two kinds. Of one of these kinds shall I be when I love. Not that Idoubt myself, yet, who can say what I shall be? Only three, Euan--God,the man who loves me, and myself."

  "I sit here waiting for a rifleman to take my letter to the General whohas promised to commit it to the runner.

  "A regiment is trying its muskets at the lake. I hear the firing.

  "I have a tallow dip and wax and sand, ready to close my letterinstantly. No one comes."

  "Lana comes, very tired and pale. Her eyes frighten me, they seem sotragic. I learn that the army marches on the 9th. Yet, you wentearlier, and I do not think my eyes resembled hers."

  "Soldiers passing, drums beating. A Pennsylvania regiment. Lana lies onmy bed, her face to the wall, scarce breathing at all, as far as I cansee. Conch-horns blowing--the strange and melancholy music of yourregiment. It seems to fill my heart with dread unutterable."

  "The runner is here! Euan--Euan! Come back to me!

  "Lois de Contrecoeur."

  My eyes fell from the letter to the sleeping runner stretched out at myfeet, then shifted vaguely toward the river.

  After a while I drew my tablets, quill, and ink-horn from my pouch, andsetting it on my knees wrote to her with a heart on fire, yet perfectlycontrolled.

  And after I had ended, I sealed the sheet with balsam, pricking theglobule from the tree behind me, and setting over it a leaf ofpartridge-berry. Also I wrote letters to General Clinton and to MajorParr, sealed them as I had sealed the other, and set a tiny, shiningleaf on each.

  Then, very gently I bent forward and aroused the Oneida runner. He satup, rubbed his eyes, then got to his feet smiling. And I consigned tohim my letters.

  The Mohican, on guard by the Susquehanna, was watching me; and as soonas the Red Wings had star
ted on his return, and was well across theOuleout, I signalled the Sagamore to come to me, leaving the Mole andTahoontowhee by the Susquehanna.

  "Blood-brother of mine," I said as he came up, "I ask counsel of awiser head and a broader experience than my own. What is to be donewith this Wyandotte?"

  "Must that be decided now, Loskiel?"

  "Now. Because the Unadilla lies below not far away, and beyond that theTioga. And I am charged to get myself thither in company with you assoon us may be. Now, what is a Sagamore's opinion of this Wyandotte?"

  "Erie," he said quietly.

  "You believe it?"

  "I know it, Loskiel."

  "And the others--the Oneidas and the Stockbridge?"

  "They are as certain as I am."

  "Good God! Then why have you not told me this before, Mayaro?"

  "Is there haste?"

  "Haste? Have I not said that we march immediately? And you would havelet me give my order and include that villain in it!"

  "Why not? It is an easier and safer way to take a prisoner to TiogaPoint than to drag him thither tied."

  "But he may escape----"

  The Sagamore gave me an ironic glance.

  "Is it likely," he said softly, "when we are watching?"

  "But he may manage to do us a harm. You saw how cunningly he has keptup communication with our enemies, to leave a trail for them to follow."

  "He has done us what harm he is able," said the Sagamore coolly.

  I hesitated, then asked him what he meant.

  "Why," he said, "their scouts have followed us. There are two of themnow across the Susquehanna."

  Thunderstruck, I stared at the river, where its sunlit surfaceglittered level through the trees.

  "Do the others know this?" I asked.

  "Surely, Loskiel."

  I looked at my Indians where they lay flat behind their trees, riflespoised, eyes intent on the territory in front of them.

  "If my brother does not desire to bring the Wyandotte to GeneralSullivan, I will go to him now and kill him," said the Mohicancarelessly.

  "He ought to hang," I said between my teeth.

  "Yes. It is the most dreadful death a Seneca can die. He would preferthe stake and two days' torture. Loskiel is right. The Erie has been apriest of Amochol. Let him die by the rope he dreads more than thestake. For all Indians fear the rope, Loskiel, which chokes them sothat they can not sing their death-song. There is not one of us who hasnot courage to sing his death-song at the stake; but who can sing whenhe is being choked to death by a rope?"

  I nodded, looking uneasily toward the river where the two Seneca spieslurked unseen as yet by me.

  "Let the men sling their packs," I said.

  "They have done so, Loskiel."

  "Very well. Our order of march will be the same as yesterday. We keepthe Wyandotte between us."

  "That is wisdom."

  "Is it to be a running fight, Mayaro?"

  "Perhaps, if their main body comes up."

  "Then we had best start across the Ouleout, unless you mean to ford theSusquehanna."

  The Sagamore shook his head with a grimace, saying that it would beeasier to swim the Susquehanna at Tioga than to ford it here.

  Very quietly we drew in or picked up our pickets, including theruffianly Wyandotte, or Erie, as he was now judged to be, and, filingas we had filed the night before we crossed the Ouleout and entered theforest.

  Two hours later the Oneida in the rear, Tahoontowhee, reported that theSeneca scouts were on our heels, and asked permission to try for ascalp.

  By noon he had taken his second scalp, and had received his firstwound, a mere scratch from a half-ounce ball, below the knee. But hewore it and the scalp with a dignity unequalled by any monarch loadedwith jewelled orders.

  "Some day," said the Sagamore in my ear, "Tahoontowhee will accept theantlers and the quiver."

  "He would be greater yet if he accepted Christ," said the Stockbridgequietly.

  We had halted to breathe, and were resting on our rifles as the Mohicansaid this; and I was looking at the Stockbridge who so quietly hadconfessed his Master, when of a sudden the Wyandotte, who had beenleaning against a tree, straightened up, turned his head over hisshoulder, stared intently at something which we could not see, and thenpointed in silence.

  So naturally was it done that we all turned also. Then, like athunder-bolt, his hatchet flew, shearing the raccoon's tail from mycap, and struck the Stockbridge Indian full between the eyes, dashinghis soul into eternity.