CHAPTER XI THE COMING OF SACANDAGA
As the concluding notes of Nahma's cry echoed over the still waters and were lost among the distant hills, the two youths listened anxiously for an answer. Nor had they long to wait, for within a minute the call of a whippoorwill came back to them almost exactly as the young warrior had uttered it; but it came from the wrong direction.
"Sacandaga has passed us after all," muttered Nahma in a tone of vexation.
"Not so," replied the Beaver, "for that was not the answer agreed upon. Do you not remember? The call was to be two and then one, while the answer was to be one and then two. This answer came back even as the call was given, and so could not have been made by Sacandaga or any of his warriors."
"Who, then——?" began Nahma, but he was interrupted by a quavering note of ko-ko-anse (the little screech-owl) that came from no great distance.
"It is a Huron call," whispered the Beaver; "answer it quickly." This Nahma did, and the Beaver continued, "They are on the water and will come to this point for further information. Do you remain here and take care that they discover not thy presence. I will retire a little and entice them or some of them to me, for I can speak the Huron tongue. After that we must be guided by what will follow. Is it well?"
"It is well," whispered Nahma, as he crouched low beside a log, one end of which extended into the water. He did not hear the Beaver take his departure, but knew that he was gone. Then from off the river, but close at hand, came again the tremulous cry of ko-ko-anse. It was answered by the Beaver from a short distance inland, who in a voice disguised as though by weakness cried,—
"Help me, brothers. Help me before I die."
"Who calls?" inquired a voice from the water.
"A Huron scout sorely wounded and helpless," answered the Beaver.
"Is he alone?"
"He is alone. There was another with him, but he was killed two days since. Help or I perish."
"Art thou Chebacno or Wabensickewa?"
"I am Wabensickewa. Chebacno was slain by the Iroquois, who are even now making ready a war-party. I hastened back to bring news of it, and landed here to rest until darkness. While I slept a panther leaped on my back. Before I could kill him he had so injured me that I cannot walk. Also are my eyes blinded so that I cannot see. I have a canoe that you will find at the water's edge, if indeed the wind has not drifted it away. I have called many times, and was about to give over calling when your answer came to lend me new strength. Now, then, my brothers, come quickly, for I have much to tell before I die."
A moment later Nahma felt a slight jar pass through the log against which he lay and heard a few whispered words of consultation. Then two figures stepped ashore and, passing so close to him that he could have touched them, noiselessly entered the forest. He waited for a moment and then cautiously lifted his head. Against the faint gleam of water he could distinguish the black bulk of a canoe and see that it still held two other figures who sat motionless. Slowly he raised his bow with a stone-headed arrow fitted to its string until one of the sitting figures was fairly covered. Then he waited with tense muscles and a heart that seemed like to burst with its furious beating. From behind him came a low moaning that he knew was made by the Beaver to deceive his enemies.
Suddenly the oppressive silence was broken by the twang of a bowstring that was instantly followed by fierce yells. High above these rose the defiant war-cry of the Iroquois, but its last note was cut short and ended in a choking gurgle.
Somehow Nahma managed to hear these things, though he was at the same time intensely busy with affairs of his own. At the first intimation of a struggle behind him he had let fly his ready arrow, and one of the two figures in the canoe dropped heavily forward. The other, seeing what he had supposed was a log suddenly endowed with life and leaping towards him, uttered a cry of terror, sprang overboard, and disappeared beneath the black waters. While Nahma tossed the limp form of the other Huron from the canoe preparatory to going in pursuit of this swimmer, a rustling among the bushes warned him to make good his own escape while yet he might, and giving the canoe a great shove, he leaped aboard.
As the craft shot out into the open a voice hailed it from the shore; but as the words were spoken in the Huron tongue, Nahma made no answer. He hesitated for a moment, wondering whether it might not be the Beaver who called; but with a repetition of the demand he knew that that was not the case. He was confirmed in this belief by hearing a slight splash from close at hand, a stifled exclamation, and a few whispered words. Evidently the swimmer who had made so hasty an exit from the canoe had been encouraged by the voice of a friend to gain the land, and now the two were once more in communication.
What had become of the Beaver? Recalling the Iroquois war-cry and its sadly suggestive ending, Nahma had little doubt that he had been overcome and killed. He hated to think of deserting his comrade without knowing for a certainty whether he were alive or dead, and yet to attempt a landing in face of two enemies, and perhaps three, would be an act of folly. His canoe had drifted out so far that they could not see him in his present position, but it would be almost impossible to gain the shore anywhere in that vicinity without detection.
While in this state of indecision, which in reality lasted but a few seconds, he heard faint and far away the cry of a whippoorwill. Twice was it uttered, and then again after a short interval. It must be the signal of Sacandaga, since it came from up the lake. Doubtless it had been made in answer to the Beaver's far-reaching war-cry. In another moment Nahma's canoe, impelled by a noiseless paddle, was speeding in that direction. He dared not at once reply to the signal for fear of drawing a flight of Huron arrows; but as soon as he believed himself beyond range of these he rested on his paddle and sent far across the lake the vibrant cry of wah-o-nai-sa once and then twice.
A full minute elapsed before the answer came, and then he was startled by its nearness. Had he not known better, he would have sworn that it was uttered by a bird in flight while passing directly above him. Allowing his craft to drift, he listened and heard the quick dip of many paddles. A fleet of canoes was rushing towards him, and, as he began to distinguish their vague outlines, he uttered a low call to attract attention.
"Who is it?" demanded the voice of Sacandaga, sharply, as the speed of the oncoming canoes was checked.
"It is Massasoit," answered the lad.
"Where is Grinning Beaver, thy companion? Did he utter the war-cry of the Iroquois that came to us as we were entering our canoes for a night of travel?"
"I fear the Beaver is dead," replied Nahma. "And if so, he was killed even with the sounding of his war-cry."
"Who killed him?" demanded Sacandaga, fiercely.
"The Hurons."
"How many are there?"
"Only four did we encounter. Of these I saw one fall, and believe that the Beaver, who was separated from me, killed another. One leaped into the water and one I know escaped from the Beaver."
"Were you on land or on the water?"
"We were on land, and this is the canoe in which the Hurons came."
"Where did it happen?"
"At the beginning of a river that leads to the wide waters lying towards the rising sun."
"What know you of these wide waters? Have you been to them?"
"Shortly before the coming of darkness were we there, and we turned back to bring news of the war-party that we saw."
"Hurons?"
"Hurons, my father, and like the leaves of a tree for numbers. Also they have with them an Oki to make timid the hearts of their enemies."
"What mean you by an Oki?"
With this Nahma described as well as he could the strange being seen by himself and the Beaver, and all who could get within hearing listened to his words with breathless attention. When Nahma declared that the apparition, though seen on a headland, still gleamed with wetness as though just emerged from the lake, his auditors were deeply impressed. Only Sacandaga was incredulous, and appeared to treat the incident as of small account.
"It is but a Huron trick!" he exclaimed, that all might hear. "They are too cowardly to fight like men, but have prepared an image with the hope that sight of it will turn our blood to water. It is well, though, that we have learned of this thing and know what to expect. Now let us find whether the Beaver is alive or dead, and if the Huron dogs have indeed slain him, bitterly shall he be avenged before we are done with them."
So Nahma guided the Iroquois canoes to the place where he had uttered that first fateful call of the whippoorwill, and Sacandaga, with half a dozen warriors, made a landing on the very log beside which he had lain.
It took them but a few minutes to discover the body of their late comrade cold in death and scalped; but there was no trace of those who had perpetrated the deed. If he had indeed killed one of them, the others had either hidden the body or taken it away.
Having learned these things and thirsting for vengeance, the Iroquois re-entered their canoes and glided silently down-stream towards the place where their enemies were encamped.