CHAPTER XXI
About two o'clock on the following day long lines of Indian chiefs and warriors might be seen approaching the great Oneida village. Soon after, a great fire was lighted before the door of the principal lodge, and, as on the preceding evening, the warriors were ranged in a circle round, and the women and children in another beyond. The great chief, dressed in all the glittering finery of the Indian peace costume, with feathers and red and white head dress, and crimson mantle, and embroidered shirt and overdress, and medals innumerable hung around his neck, took the seat of honor with a grave dignity, such as few civilized monarchs have, even after the greatest study, been able to attain. He wore no warlike weapons, nothing but a single knife appeared in his girdle, and in his hand he carried the richly ornamented calumet, or pipe of piece.
Close behind her father sat Otaitsa, with her heart greatly troubled, but less, perhaps, with fear than with expectation. The Black Eagle had been kind and tender with her when they had been alone together. He had held her to his heart with a display of fondness such as an Indian rarely shows openly to his child. He had listened to the whole tale of her love for Walter Prevost without a word of disapprobation or reproach, and sometimes even a playful smile had come upon his dark, stern face as her words recalled the memory of feelings experienced in youth, like a well-remembered song heard again after a long lapse of years. Instead of reprehending her attempt to deliver Walter, he commended it highly. "It was thy part, my child; thou shouldst have been a boy, Otaitsa; the warrior's spirit is in the maiden's bosom."
But when she came to speak of her lover's fate, to plead, to sue, to entreat, the stern, grave coldness of the Indian chief returned; and though she could see that he was full of fixed resolves, she could in no way discover what they were. The explanation of them she knew was now to come, and it may be imagined with what eager and intense interest she listened for every word.
There was, of course, some little confusion as the multitude took their places, but it was soon hushed, and then a deep silence spread around. The great pipe was lighted, and sent from hand to hand till it had passed all around the circle, and then, and not till then, Black Eagle rose and spoke.
"Have my words been heard?" he said. "Have my warriors examined whether any of the dark and infernal order of the Honontkoh are amongst us?"
He seated himself again as soon as he had made the inquiry, and after a moment's pause two middle-aged warriors, who had been with him on the preceding day, rose and took a step forward, while one of them said: "We have heard thy words, and examined. The brother of the Snake, Apukwa, the medicine man, and the Flying Squirrel are Honontkoh. The stripe is upon them and upon none else."
"It is well," said the chief, rising again. "Bring forward that man who was taken at our Castle door, last night."
Half a dozen young men sprang upon their feet and speedily brought from the door of a neighboring lodge the half-breed runner Proctor, whom we have seen with Brooks and Lord H---- at Albany. He had a calumet in his hand, the sign of a peaceful mission, and he showed no fear, for he knew that his life would be respected, although he had learned by this time that the Oneidas had been greatly excited by some acts referring to the very object of his mission. Standing in the midst of them, as calm and collected as he had been in the fort at Albany, he hardly gave a glance round the circle, but looked straight, with a cold and inexpressive countenance, at the chief before whom he was placed.
"What hast thou to say?" demanded Black Eagle.
The man remained silent, although there was an evident movement of his lips as if to speak.
"Fear not," said Black Eagle, mistaking the ineffectual effort to speak for a sign of apprehension, although it really proceeded from a habitual unwillingness to hear the sound of his own voice, "thou shalt go in safety, whatever be thy message. Art thou dumb, man? Is thy tongue a stone?"
"I am not dumb--I am not afraid," said the man, with a great effort, "Great chiefs in Albany send me to say, 'Give us the boy?'"
There he stopped, for it had cost him much to utter so many words.
"Were they war chiefs?" demanded Black Eagle, aloud.
The man nodded his head, and Black Eagle asked: "Did they threaten the Oneidas--did they say they would unbury the hatchet?"
The runner shook his head, and the chief asked, "What did they say, then, would befall us if we refused to comply?"
"Shame," replied Proctor, aloud; and Black Eagle suddenly drew his mantle over his face.
A low murmur spread round like the hum of a hive of bees, and when it had subsided the chief rose, and with an air of grave, sad dignity, looked round upon his people. "Ye have heard, oh children of the Stone," he said, in a rich, clear, deep-toned voice, "what the chiefs of the palefaces say of the Oneida nation; and there are warriors here who were with me yesterday when our brethren the Mohawks reproached me with treachery and inhospitality toward our paleface brother, Prevost; and the Black Eagle had nothing to answer. Ye know the history. Why should I sing again the song of yesterday? A man of our nation was slain by one of the Yengees, and the brethren of the dead man seized upon the son of Prevost, who is also our son, without searching for him who had spilt the blood. This was contrary to the custom of the Five Nations; but they say the man was not to be found, he was already beyond our territory, and we must take the first we can find to appease the spirit of our brother. But Prevost is a good man, loved by all the Five Nations, as a brother to the redman, a friend who trusted us. So hard do the Mohawks and the Onondagas think this deed, that they have dealt subtly with the Oneidas, and striven to rescue our captive from our hands by the crooked ways of the serpent. The paleface chiefs, too, have sent men into our land, and think darkly of the Oneidas; but the Black Eagle saw what they did, and spread his wings and drove them forth. He had no answer for the reproaches of the Mohawks or for the Yengees. He will give them both their answer this day by the messenger, and the children of the Stone will thereby know his mind. Let them say if it be good."
Then turning to Proctor, he stretched out his hand toward the south, saying: "When thou goest hence, two of my warriors shall go with thee to the Castle of the Mohawk, and thou shalt say, 'Why hast thou dealt subtly with the Oneidas? If thou hast aught against him, why didst thou not send a messenger of peace to tell thy brother thy mind, or why didst thou not appeal to the great council of the Five Nations, to judge between thee and him? If thou wilt unbury the hatchet, and cut down the tree of peace, and bring trouble into the Five Nations, that the paleface may prevail, and our Long House be pulled down to the ground, then paint thy face, and dance the war dance, and come upon the battleway, but follow not the trail of the serpent, to steal unperceived into thy brother's land.'"
A murmur of approbation followed this bold speech, but the next moment the chief continued, still addressing Proctor, and saying: "When thou hast thus spoken to the Mohawk, thou shalt go on to the paleface chiefs at Albany, and to them thou shalt say: 'The children of the Stone have heard your message. They are the children of the great king. He is their father, and they love him. But the Oneidas have their own laws, and are led by their own chiefs. They take the warpath against your enemies as against their own, and ye are glad in the day of battle when they fight the Frenchman by your side. It is sweet to them that you have used no threats, and they would not have their white brother think darkly of them. They love, too, the chief, Prevost. They love his son as a brother; but one of their own children has been slain by one of yours, and their law must be fulfilled. His spirit must not be shut out from the happy hunting grounds. They will mourn as a whole nation for Walter Prevost, but Walter Prevost must die unless the wanderer is taken. Thus says the Black Eagle, the great chief of the Oneida nation; he who has taken a hundred scalps of his enemies, and fought in fifteen battles with your foes and his. Give us up the murderer if ye would save the boy. He is in your land. You can find him. Do justly by us in this matter, and walk not in the trail of the fox to deceive us and to save from us our captive.'"
Then pausing for an instant, he somewhat lowered his voice, but spoke the succeeding words very slowly and distinctly, in order that every syllable might not only be impressed upon the mind of the man he addressed, but be clearly heard and comprehended by all the people around: "Thou shalt say, moreover, to our brethren, the paleface chiefs at Albany, that the Black Eagle finds that Walter Prevost has fallen into the hands of bad men, who cannot be trusted, dealers in dark things, vultures whose heads are bare but whose hearts are covered. The Black Eagle will take the boy from their hands, and will treat him well and keep him in safety till the hour come. As ye have said that the Oneidas are hasty, that they do rashly, that they have not sought as they ought to seek, for six moons will Black Eagle keep the lad in peace as his own son, to see if ye will give him up the murderer of an Oneida. But as the chief would slay his own son if the laws of his own people required it at his hands, so will he and the chiefs of his nation slay Walter Prevost, if in six moons ye do not give him up the murderer. He shall die the death of a warrior, with his hands unbound; and as Black Eagle knows the spirit that is in him, he is sure that he will die as a warrior should. This thou shalt say to the English chiefs; let them look to it; the fate of the boy depends upon their counsel. Give him a roll of wampum for his reward, and let him go in peace."
His commands were immediately obeyed, and the half-breed runner removed from the circle. Then, turning to the warriors, without reseating himself, the chief demanded, "Have I said well?"
The usual words of approbation followed, repeated by almost every voice present, and then Black Eagle resumed in a stern tone, saying: "And now, my children, what shall be done to the Honontkoh? I have already removed the captive from their hands, for they are a people without faith. They live in darkness, and they wrap themselves in a shadow. They take their paths in deceit, and we see blood and dissension follow them. Already have they raised against us the wrath of our brethren of the Five Nations. They have brought the yellow cloud of shame upon the Oneida name. They have well nigh severed the threads which hold the roll of our league together. They have laid the hatchet to the root of the tree which we and our English father planted. I say let them go forth from amongst us. The totem of the Tortoise casts them forth. We will not leave our lodges near their lodges. They shall not dwell within our palisade. Let them betake themselves to the darkness of the forest and to the secret holes of the rock, for darkness and secrecy are the dwelling places of their hearts; or let them go, if they will, to the deceitful Hurons, to the people beyond Horicon, and fight beside the deceitful Frenchman. With us they shall not dwell; let them be seen no more amongst us. Is my judgment good?"
A general cry of approbation followed, the council broke up, the warriors commenced wandering about, those who came from a distance seeking hospitality in the neighboring lodges, for the great lodge itself could not afford room for all.
To her own little chamber Otaitsa retired at once, and barring the door, went down upon her knees to offer up thanksgiving and prayer--thanksgiving, for hope is ever a blessing--prayer, for there was danger still before her eyes. Safe for the next six months she knew Walter would be in the careful custody of her father, but she still prayed, earnestly that her mother's God would find some way of deliverance for the sake of Him who died to save mankind.