The Chainbearer; Or, The Littlepage Manuscripts

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  "How far that little candle throws his beams, So shines a good deed in a naughty world." --SHAKESPEARE.

  I have said that my narrative of the manner in which justice issometimes meted out among us was not without its effect on even thatrude band of selfish and envious rioters: rude, because setting atnaught reason and the law; and selfish, because induced so to do bycovetousness, and the desire to substitute the tenants for those whomthey fancied to be better off in the world than they were themselves. Aprofound stillness succeeded; and after the bundles of calico hadwhispered one with another for a moment or two, they remained quiet,seemingly indisposed, just then at least, to molest us any farther. Ithought the moment favorable, and fell back to my old station,determined to let things take their own course. This change, and theprofound stillness that succeeded, brought matters back to the visit ofthe Indians, and its object.

  During the whole time occupied by the advance of the "Injins," the menof the prairies and Susquesus had continued nearly as motionless as somany statues. It is true that the eyes of Flintyheart were on theinvaders, but he managed to take good heed of them without betraying anyundue uneasiness or care. Beyond this, I do affirm that I scarce noted asingle sign of even vigilance among these extraordinary beings; thoughManytongues afterward gave me to understand that they knew very wellwhat they were about; and then I could not be watching the red-men thewhole time. Now that there was a pause, however, everybody and thingseemed to revert to the original visit, as naturally as if nointerruption had occurred. Manytongues, by the way of securingattention, called on the Injins, in an authoritative voice, to offer nointerruption to the proceedings of the chiefs, which had a species ofreligious sanctity, and were not to be too much interfered with, withimpunity.

  "So long as you keep quiet, my warriors will not molest you," he added;"but if any man amongst you has ever been on the prer-ies, he mustunderstand enough of the nature of a redskin to know that when he's in'airnest he _is_ in 'airnest. Men who are on a journey three thousandmiles in length, don't turn aside for trifles, which is a sign thatserious business has brought these chiefs here."

  Whether it was that this admonition produced an effect, or thatcuriosity influenced the "disguised and armed," or that they did notchoose to proceed to extremities, or that all three considerations hadtheir weight, is more than I can say; but it is certain the whole bandremained stationary, quiet and interested observers of what nowoccurred, until an interruption took place, which will be related inproper time. Manytongues, who had posted himself near the centre of thepiazza, to interpret, now signified to the chiefs that they might pursuetheir own purposes in tranquillity. After a decent pause, the same youngwarrior who had "called up" Jaaf, in the first instance, now rose again,and with a refinement in politeness that would be looked for in vain inmost of the deliberative bodies of civilized men, adverted to thecircumstance that the negro had not finished his address, and might havematter on his mind of which he wished to be delivered. This was saidsimply, but distinctly; and it was explained to the negro byManytongues, who assured him not one among all the chiefs would say aword until the last person "on his legs" had an opportunity of finishinghis address. This reserve marks the deportment of those whom we callsavages; men that have their own fierce, and even ruthless customs,beyond all controversy, but who possess certain other excellentqualities that do not appear to flourish in the civilized state.

  It was with a good deal of difficulty that we got old Jaaf up again;for, though a famous grumbler, he was not much of an orator. As it wasunderstood that no chief would speak, however, until the black hadexhausted his right, my dear Patt had to go, and laying one of herivory-looking hands on the shoulder of the grim old negro, persuade himto rise and finish his speech. He knew her, and she succeeded; it beingworthy of remark, that while this aged black scarce remembered for anhour what occurred, confounding dates fearfully, often speaking of mygrandmother as Miss Dus, and as if she were still a girl, he knew everyone of the family then living, and honored and loved us accordingly, atthe very moments he would fancy we had been present at scenes thatoccurred when our great-grandparents were young people. But to thespeech--

  "What all them fellow want, bundle up in calico, like so many squaw?"growled out Jaaf, as soon as on his legs, and looking intently at theInjins, ranged as they were in a line four deep, quite near the piazza."Why you let 'em come, Masser Hugh, Masser Hodge, Masser Malbone, MasserMordaunt--which you be here, now, I don't know, dere so many, and it sohard to 'member ebberyt'ing? Oh! I _so_ ole!--I do won'er when my timecome! Dere Sus, too, _he_ good for nuttin' at all. Once he greatwalker--great warrior--great hunter--pretty good fellow for redskin; buthe quite wore out. Don't see much use why he lib any longer. Injin goodfor nuttin' when he can't hunt. Sometime he make basket and broom; butthey uses better broom now, and Injin lose _dat_ business. What demcalico debbil want here, eh, Miss Patty? Dere redskin, too--two, t'ree,four--all come to see Sus. Won'er nigger don't come to see _me_! Oleblack good as ole red-man. Where dem fellow get all dat calico, and putover deir faces? Masser Hodge, what all dat mean?"

  "These are anti-renters, Jaaf," my uncle coldly answered. "Men that wishto own your Master Hugh's farms, and relieve him from the trouble ofreceiving any more rent. They cover their faces, I presume, to concealtheir blushes, the modesty of their nature sinking under the sense oftheir own generosity."

  Although it is not very probable that Jaaf understood the whole of thespeech, he comprehended a part; for, so thoroughly had his feelings beenaroused on this subject, a year or two earlier, when his mind was notquite so much dimmed as at present, that the impression made wasindelible. The effect of what my uncle said, nevertheless, was mostapparent among the Injins, who barely escaped an outbreak. My uncle hasbeen blamed for imprudence, in having resorted to irony on such anoccasion; but, after all, I am far from sure good did not come of it. Ofone thing I am certain; nothing is ever gained by temporizing on thesubject of principles; that which is right, had better always be freelysaid, since it is from the sacrifices that are made of the truth, asconcession to expediency, that error obtains one half its power. Policy,or fear, or some other motive, kept the rising ire of the Injins under,however, and no interruption occurred, in consequence of this speech.

  "What you want here, fellow?" demanded Jaaf, roughly, and speaking as ascold would break out on some intrusive boy. "Home wid ye!--get out! Oh!I _do_ grow so ole!--I wish I was as I was when young for your sake, youvarmint! What you want wid Masser Hugh's land?--why dat you t'ink to getgentle'em's property, eh? 'Member 'e time when your fadder come creepin'and beggin' to Masser Morder, to ask just little farm to lib on, and behe tenant, and try to do a little for he family, like; and now come, incalico bundle, to tell _my_ Masser Hugh dat he shan't be masser of heown land. Who _you_, I want to knew, to come and talk to gentle'em indis poor fashion? Go home--get out--off wid you, or you hear what youdon't like."

  Now, while there was a good deal of "nigger" in this argument, it wasquite as good as that which was sometimes advanced in support of the"spirit of the institutions," more especially that part of the latterwhich is connected with "aristocracy" and "poodle usages." The negro hadan idea that all his "massers," old and young, were better than the restof the human race; while the advocates of the modern improvement seem tothink that every right is concentrated in the lower half of the great"republican family." Every gentleman is no gentleman; and everyblackguard, a gentleman, for one postulate of their great socialproposition; and, what is more, every man in the least elevated _above_the mass, unless so elevated by the mass, who consequently retain thepower to pull him down again, has no rights at all, when put inopposition to the cravings of numbers. So that, after all, the negro wasnot much more out of the way, in his fashion of viewing things, than thephilosophers of industrious honesty! Happily, neither the reasoning ofone of these parties, nor that of the other, has much influence on theactual state of things.
Facts are facts, and the flounderings of envyand covetousness can no more shut men's eyes to their existence, andprove that black is white, than Jaaf's long-enduring and besettingnotion that the Littlepages are the great of the earth, can make us morethan what we certainly are. I have recorded the negro's speech, simplyto show some, who listen only to the misstatements and opinions of thosewho wish to become owners of other men's farms, that there are two sidesto the question; and, in the way of argument, I do not see but one isquite as good as the other.

  One could hardly refrain from smiling, notwithstanding the seriousnessof the circumstances in which we were placed, at the gravity of theIndians during the continuance of this queer episode. Not one of themall rose, turned round, or manifested the least impatience, or evencuriosity. The presence of two hundred armed men, bagged in calico, didnot induce them to look about them, though their previous experiencewith this gallant corps may possibly have led them to hold it somewhatcheap.

  The time had now come for the Indians to carry out the main design oftheir visit to Ravensnest, and Prairiefire slowly arose to speak. Thereader will understand that Manytongues translated, sentence bysentence, all that passed, he being expert in the different dialects ofthe tribes, some of which had carried that of the Onondagoes to theprairies. In this particular, the interpreter was a somewhat remarkableman, not only rendering what was said readily and without hesitation,but energetically and with considerable power. It may be well to add,however, that in writing out the language I may have used Englishexpressions that are a little more choice, in some instances, than thosegiven by this uneducated person.

  "Father," commenced Prairefire, solemnly, and with a dignity that it isnot usual to find connected with modern oratory; the gestures he usedbeing few, but of singular force and significance--"Father, the minds ofyour children are heavy. They have travelled over a long and thornypath, with moccasons worn out, and feet that were getting sore; buttheir minds were light. They hoped to look at the face of the UprightOnondago, when they got to the end of the path. They have come to theend of that path, and they see him. He looks as they expected he wouldlook. He is like an oak that lightning may burn, and the snows coverwith moss, but which a thousand storms and a hundred winters cannotstrip of its leaves. He looks like the oldest oak in the forest. He isvery grand. It is pleasant to look on him. When we see him, we see achief who knew our fathers' fathers, and _their_ fathers' fathers. Thatis a long time ago. He is a tradition, and knows all things. There isonly one thing about him, that ought not to be. He was born a red-man,but has lived so long with the pale-faces, that when he does go away tothe happy hunting-grounds, we are afraid the good spirits will mistakehim for a pale-face, and point out the wrong path. Should this happen,the red-men would lose the Upright of the Onondagoes, forever. It shouldnot be. My father does not wish it to be. He will think better. He willcome back among his children, and leave his wisdom and advice among thepeople of his own color. I ask him to do this.

  "It is a long path, now, to the wigwams of red-men. It was not so once,but the path has been stretched. It is a very long path. Our young mentravel it often, to visit the graves of their fathers, and they know howlong it is. My tongue is not crooked, but it is straight; it will notsing a false song--it tells my father the truth. The path is very long.But the pale-faces are wonderful! What have they not done? What willthey not do? They have made canoes and sledges that fly swift as thebirds. The deer could not catch them. They have wings of fire, and neverweary. They go when men sleep. The path is long, but it is soontravelled with such wings. My father can make the journey, and not thinkof weariness. Let him try it. His children will take good care of him.Uncle Sam will give him venison, and he will want nothing. Then, when hestarts for the happy hunting-grounds, he will not mistake the path, andwill live with red-men forever."

  A long, solemn pause succeeded this speech, which was delivered withgreat dignity and emphasis. I could see that Susquesus was touched withthis request, and at the homage paid his character, by having tribesfrom the prairies--tribes of which he had never even heard throughtraditions in his younger days--come so far to do justice to hischaracter; to request him to go and die in their midst. It is true, hemust have known that the fragments of the old New York tribes had mostlyfound their way to those distant regions; nevertheless, it could not butbe soothing to learn that even they had succeeded in making so strong animpression in his favor, by means of their representations. Most men ofhis great age would have been insensible to feelings of this sort. Such,in a great degree, was the fact with Jaaf; but such was not the casewith the Onondago. As he said in his former speech to his visitors, hismind dwelt more on the scenes of his youth, and native emotions camefresher to his spirit, now, than they had done even in middle age. Allthat remained of his youthful fire seemed to be awakened, and he did notappear that morning, except when compelled to walk and in his outwardperson, to be a man who had seen much more than his threescore years andten.

  As a matter of course, now that the chiefs from the prairies had sodistinctly made known the great object of their visit, and so vividlyportrayed their desire to receive back, into the bosom of theircommunities, one of their color and race, it remained for the Onondagoto let the manner in which he viewed this proposition be known. Theprofound stillness that reigned around him must have assured the oldIndian how anxiously his reply was expected. It extended even to the"disguised and armed," who, by this time, seemed to be as much absorbedin the interest of this curious scene as any of us who occupied thepiazza. I do believe that anti-rentism was momentarily forgotten by allparties--tenants as well as landlords, Landlords as well as tenants. Idare say, Prairiefire had taken his seat three minutes ere Susquesusarose; during all which time, the deep stillness, of which I havespoken, prevailed.

  "My children," answered the Onondago, whose voice possessed just enoughof the hollow tremulousness of age to render it profoundly impressive,but who spoke so distinctly as to be heard by all present--"My children,we do not know what will happen when we are young--all is young, too,that we see. It is when we grow old, that all grows old with us. Youthis full of hope; but age is full of eyes, it sees things as they are. Ihave lived in my wigwam alone, since the Great Spirit called out thename of my mother, and she hurried away to the happy hunting-grounds tocook venison for my father, who was called first. My father was a greatwarrior. You did not know him. He was killed by the Delawares, more thana hundred winters ago.

  "I have told you the truth. When my mother went to cook venison for herhusband, I was left alone in my wigwam."

  Here a long pause succeeded, during which Susquesus appeared to bestruggling with his own feelings, though he continued erect, like a treefirmly rooted. As for the chiefs, most of them inclined their bodiesforward to listen, so intense was their interest; here and there one oftheir number explaining in soft guttural tones, certain passages in thespeech to some other Indians, who did not fully comprehend the dialectin which they were uttered. After a time, Susquesus proceeded: "Yes, Ilived alone. A young squaw _was_ to have entered my wigwam and staidthere. She never came. She wished to enter it, but she did not. Anotherwarrior had her promise, and it was right that she should keep her word.Her mind was heavy at first, but she lived to feel that it is good to bejust. No squaw has ever lived in any wigwam of mine. I do not think everto be a father: but see how different it has turned out! I am now thefather of all red-men! Every Indian warrior is my son. _You_ are mychildren! I will own you when we meet on the pleasant paths beyond thehunts you make to-day. You will call me father, and I will call yousons.

  "That will be enough. You ask me to go on the long path with you, andleave my bones on the prairies. I have heard of those hunting-grounds.Our ancient traditions told us of them. 'Toward the rising sun,' theysaid, 'is a great salt lake, and toward the setting sun, great lakes ofsweet water. Across the great salt lake is a distant country, filledwith pale-faces, who live in large villages, and in the midst of clearedfields. Toward the setting sun were large cle
ared fields, too, but nopale-faces, and few villages.' Some of our wise men thought these fieldswere the fields of red-men following the pale-faces round after the sun;some thought they were fields in which the pale-faces were followingthem. I think this was the truth. The red-man cannot hide himself in anycorner where the pale-faces will not find him. The Great Spirit willhave it so. It is his will; the red-man must submit.

  "My sons, the journey you ask me to make is too long for old age. I havelived with the pale-faces, until one-half of my heart is white; thoughthe other half is red. One-half is filled with the traditions of myfathers, the other half is filled with the wisdom of the stranger. Icannot cut my heart in two pieces. I must all go with you, or all stayhere. The body must stay with the heart, and both must remain where theyhave now dwelt so long. I thank you, my children, but what you wish cannever come to pass.

  "You see a very old man, but you see a very unsettled mind. There arered traditions and pale-face traditions. Both speak of the Great Spirit,but only one speak of his Son. A soft voice has been whispering in myear, lately, much of the Son of God. Do they speak to you in that way onthe prairies? I know not what to think. I wish to think what is right;but it is not easy to understand."

  Here Susquesus paused; then he took his seat, with the air of one who isat a loss how to explain his own feelings. Prairiefire waited arespectful time for him to continue his address, but perceiving that herose not, he stood up himself, to request a further explanation.

  "My father has spoken wisdom," he said, "and his children have listened.They have not heard enough; they wish to hear more. If my father istired of standing, he can sit; his children do not ask him to stand.They ask to know where that soft voice came from, and what it said?"

  Susquesus did not rise, now, but he prepared for a reply. Mr. Warren wasstanding quite near him, and Mary was leaning on his arm. He signed forthe father to advance a step or two, in complying with which, the parentbrought forth the unconscious child also.

  "See, my children," resumed Susquesus. "This is a great medicine of thepale-faces. He talks always of the Great Spirit, and of his goodness tomen. It is his business to talk of the happy hunting-ground, and of goodand bad pale-faces. I cannot tell you whether he does any good or not.Many such talk of these things constantly among the whites, but I cansee little change, and I have lived among them, now, more than eightywinters and summers--yes, near ninety. The land is changed so much thatI hardly know it; but the people do not alter. See, there; here aremen--pale-faces in calico bags. Why do they run about, and dishonor thered-man by calling themselves Injins? I will tell you."

  There was now a decided movement among the "virtuous and industrious,"though a strong desire to hear the old man out, prevented any violentinterruption at that time. I question if ever men listened moreintently, than we all lent our faculties now, to ascertain what theUpright of the Onondagoes thought of anti-rentism. I received theopinions he expressed with the greater alacrity, because I knew he was aliving witness of most of what he related, and because I was clearly ofopinion that he knew quite as much of the subject as many who rose inthe legislative halls to discuss the subject.

  "These men are not warriors," continued Susquesus. "They hide theirfaces and they carry rifles, but they frighten none but the squaws andpappooses. When they take a scalp, it is because they are a hundred, andtheir enemies one. They are not braves. Why do they come at all? What dothey want? They want the land of this young chief. My children, all theland, far and near, was ours. The pale-faces came with their papers, andmade laws, and said 'It is well! We want this land. There is plentyfarther west for you red-men. Go there, and hunt, and fish, and plantyour corn, and leave us this land.' Our red brethren did as they wereasked to do. The pale-faces had it as they wished. They made laws, andsold the land, as the red-men sell the skins of beavers. When the moneywas paid, each pale-face got a deed, and thought he owned all that hehad paid for. But the wicked spirit that drove out the red-man is nowabout to drive off the pale-face chiefs. It is the same devil, and it isno other. He wanted land then, and he wants land now. There is onedifference, and it is this. When the pale-face drove off the red-manthere was no treaty between them. They had not smoked together, andgiven wampum, and signed a paper. If they had, it was to agree that thered-man should go away, and the pale-face stay. When the pale-facedrives off the pale-face, there is a treaty; they have smoked together,and given wampum, and signed a paper. This is the difference. Indianwill keep his word with Indian; pale-face will not keep his word withpale-face."

  Susquesus stopped speaking, and the eye of every chief was immediately,and for the first time that morning, turned on the "disguised andarmed"--the "virtuous and hard-working." A slight movement occurred inthe band, but no outbreak took place; and, in the midst of the sensationthat existed, Eaglesflight slowly arose. The native dignity and ease ofhis manner more than compensated for his personal appearance, and he nowseemed to us all one of those by no means unusual instances of the powerof the mind to overshadow, and even to obliterate, the imperfections ofthe body. Before the effect of what Susquesus had just said was lost,this eloquent and much-practised orator began his address. His utterancewas highly impressive, being so deliberate, with pauses so welladjusted, as to permit Manytongues to give full effect to each syllablehe translated.

  "My brethren," said Eaglesflight, addressing the Injins and the otherauditors, rather than any one else, "you have heard the words of age.They are the words of wisdom. They are the words of truth. The Uprightof the Onondagoes cannot lie. He never could. The Great Spirit made hima just Indian; and, as the Great Spirit makes an Indian, so he is. Mybrethren, I will tell you his story; it will be good for _you_ to hearit. We have heard your story; first from the interpreter, now fromSusquesus. It is a bad story. We were made sorrowful when we heard it.What is right, should be done; what is wrong, should not be done. Thereare bad red-men, and good red-men; there are bad pale-faces, and goodpale-faces. The good red-men and good pale-faces do what is right; thebad, what is wrong. It is the same with both. The Great Spirit of theIndian and the Great Spirit of the white man are alike; so are thewicked spirits. There is no difference in this.

  "My brethren, a red-man knows in his heart when he does what is right,and when he does what is wrong. He does not want to be told. He tellshimself. His face is red, and he cannot change color. The paint is toothick. When he tells himself how much wrong he has done, he goes intothe bushes, and is sorry. When he comes out he is a better man.

  "My brethren, it is different with a pale-face. He is white, and uses nostones for paint. When he tells himself that he has done wrong, his facecan paint itself. Everybody can see that he is ashamed. He does not gointo the bushes; it would do no good. He paints himself so quickly thatthere is no time. He hides his face in a calico bag. This is not good,but it is better than to be pointed at with the finger.

  "My brethren, the Upright of the Onondagoes has never run into thebushes because he was ashamed. There has been no need of it. He has nottold himself he was wicked. He has not put his face in a calico bag; hecannot paint himself, like a pale-face.

  "My brethren, listen; I will tell you a story. A long time agoeverything was very different here. The clearings were small, and thewoods large. Then the red-men were many, and the pale-faces few. Now itis different. You know how it is, to-day.

  "My brethren, I am talking of what was a hundred winters since. We werenot born, then. Susquesus was then young, and strong, and active. Hecould run with the deer, and battle with the bear. He was a chief,because his fathers were chiefs before him. The Onondagoes knew him andloved him. Not a war-path was opened that he was not the first to go onit. No other warrior could count so many scalps. No young chief had somany listeners at the council-fire. The Onondagoes were proud that theyhad so great a chief, and one so young. They thought he would live along time, and they should see him, and be proud of him for fiftywinters more.

  "My brethren, Susquesus has lived twice fifty winters longer; but he
hasnot lived them with his own people. No; he has been a stranger among theOnondagoes all that time. The warriors he knew are dead. The wigwamsthat he went into have fallen to the earth with time; the graves havecrumbled, and the sons' sons of his companions walk heavily with oldage. Susquesus is there; you see him; he sees you. He can walk; hespeaks; he sees: he is a living tradition! Why is this so? The GreatSpirit has not called him away. He is a just Indian, and it is good thathe be kept here, that all red-men may know how much he is loved. So longas he stays no red-men need want a calico bag.

  "My brethren, the younger days of Susquesus, the Trackless, were happy.When he had seen twenty winters, he was talked of in all the neighboringtribes. The scalp notches were a great many. When he had seen thirtywinters, no chief of the Onondagoes had more honor, or more power. Hewas first among the Onondagoes. There was but one fault in him. He didnot take a squaw into his wigwam. Death comes when he is not looked for;so does marriage. At length my father became like other men, and wishedfor a squaw. It happened in this way.

  "My brethren, red-men have laws, as well as the pale-faces. If there isa difference, it is in keeping those laws. A law of the red-men givesevery warrior his prisoners. If he bring off a warrior, he is his; if asquaw, she is his. This is right. He can take the scalp of the warrior;he can take the squaw into his wigwam, if it be empty. A warrior namedWaterfowl, brought in a captive girl of the Delawares. She was calledOuithwith, and was handsomer than the humming-bird. The Waterfowl hadhis ears open, and heard how beautiful she was. He watched long to takeher, and he did take her. She was his, and he thought to take her intohis wigwam when it was empty. Three moons passed, before that could be.In the meantime, Susquesus saw Ouithwith, and Ouithwith saw Susquesus.Their eyes were never off each other. He was the noblest moose of thewoods, in her eyes; she was the spotted fawn, in his. He wished to askher to his wigwam; she wished to go.

  "My brethren, Susquesus was a great chief; the Waterfowl was only awarrior. One had power and authority, the other had neither. But thereis authority among red-men beyond that of the chief. It is the red-man'slaw. Ouithwith belonged to the Waterfowl, and she did not belong toSusquesus. A great council was held, and men differed. Some said that souseful a chief, so renowned a warrior as Susquesus, ought to be thehusband of Ouithwith, some said her husband ought to be the Waterfowl,for he had brought her out from among the Delawares. A great difficultyarose on this question, and the whole six nations took part in it. Manywarriors were for the law, but most were for Susquesus. They loved him,and thought he would make the best husband for the Delaware girl. Forsix moons the quarrel thickened, and a dark cloud gathered over the paththat led among the tribes. Warriors who had taken scalps in company,looked at each other, as the panther looks at the deer. Some were readyto dig up the hatchet for the law; some for the pride of the Onondagoes,and the humming-bird of the Delawares. The squaws took sides withSusquesus. Far and near, they met to talk together, and they eventhreatened to light a council-fire, and smoke around it, like warriorsand chiefs.

  "Brethren, things could not stand so another moon. Ouithwith must gointo the wigwam of the Waterfowl, or into the wigwam of Susquesus. Thesquaws said she should go into the wigwam of Susquesus; and they mettogether, and led her to his door. As she went along that path,Ouithwith looked at her feet with her eyes, but her heart leaped likethe bounding fawn, when playing in the sun. She did not go in at thedoor. The Waterfowl was there, and forbade it. He had come alone; hisfriends were but few, while the heads and arms of the friends ofSusquesus were as plenty as the berries on the bush.

  "My brethren, that command of the Waterfowl's was like a wall of rockbefore the door of the Trackless's wigwam. Ouithwith could not go in.The eyes of Susquesus said 'no,' while his heart said 'yes.' He offeredthe Waterfowl his rifle, his powder, all his skins, his wigwam; butWaterfowl would rather have his prisoner, and answered, 'no.' 'Take myscalp,' he said; 'you are strong and can do it; but do not take myprisoner.'

  "My brethren, Susquesus then stood up, in the midst of the tribe, andopened his mind. 'The Waterfowl is right,' he said. 'She is his, by ourlaws; and what the laws of the red-man say, the red-man must do. Whenthe warrior is about to be tormented, and he asks for time to go homeand see his friends, does he not come back at the day and hour agreedon? Shall I, Susquesus, the first chief of the Onondagoes, be strongerthan the law? No--my face would be forever hid in the bushes, did thatcome to pass. It should not be--it _shall_ not be. Take her, Waterfowl;she is yours. Deal kindly by her, for she is as tender as the wren whenit first quits the nest. I must go into the woods for awhile. When mymind is at peace, Susquesus will return.'

  "Brethren, the stillness in that tribe, while Susquesus was getting hisrifle, and his horn, and his best moccasons, and his tomahawk, was likethat which comes in the darkness. Men saw him go, but none dare follow.He left no trail, and he was called the Trackless. His mind was never atpeace, for he never came back. Summer and winter came and went oftenbefore the Onondagoes heard of him among the pale-faces. All that timethe Waterfowl lived with Ouithwith in his wigwam, and she bore himchildren. The chief was gone, but the law remained. Go you, men of thepale-faces, who hide your shame in calico bags, and do the same. Followthe example of an Indian--be honest, like the Upright of theOnondagoes!"

  While this simple narrative was drawing to a close, I could detect thesigns of great uneasiness among the leaders of the "calico bags." Thebiting comparison between themselves and their own course, and an Indianand his justice, was intolerable to them, for nothing has more conducedto the abuses connected with anti-rentism than the wide-spread delusionthat prevails in the land concerning the omnipotency of the masses. Theerror is deeply rooted which persuades men that fallible parts can makean infallible whole. It was offensive to their self-conceit, andmenacing to their success. A murmur ran through the assembly, and ashout followed. The Injins rattled their rifles, most relying onintimidation to effect their purpose; but a few seemed influenced by aworse intention, and I have never doubted that blood would have beenshed in the next minute, the Indians now standing to their arms, had notthe sheriff of the county suddenly appeared on the piazza, with JackDunning at his elbow. This unexpected apparition produced a pause,during which the "disguised and armed" fell back some twenty yards, andthe ladies rushed into the house. As for my uncle and myself, we were asmuch astonished as any there at this interruption.