[[14]] Literally, "The Beautiful Valley."
And I endorsed his words without reserve on the evening of our tenth day on the Great Trail, when we stood on the brink of the sweetest vale in all the world—aye, more beautiful even than the sacred valley of Onondaga—and looked across the tree-tops at the river that wound along its center like a looping flood of silver, with the myriad colors of the sunset tinting the hills beyond and a soft wind wafting upward to our level the odors of the woodlands and orchards.
From a little village that was huddled on the near bank of the river Ta-wan-ne-ars sent off that night a messenger to carry on word of our coming. So two days later, when we had passed the Gen-nis-he-yo and the belt of forest beyond to the Senecas' chief town, De-o-nun-da-ga-a, it was to find ourselves expected guests. Warriors and hunters, women and children, along the trail, hailed Ta-wan-ne-ars and his friends; and at the gates of the palisade which fortified the village—for it was the principal stronghold of the Western Door—stood Do-ne-ho-ga-weh himself, the Guardian of the Door, with his roy-an-ehs and ha-seh-no-wa-weh[[15]] or chiefs, around him.
[[15]] Literally, "An Elevated Name." The office of chief was elective and in no sense hereditary or noble as was that of roy-an-eh, which has been misnamed sachem.
He was a splendid-looking old man, tall as Ta-wan-ne-ars, his massive shoulders unbent by age, his naked chest, with the vivid device of the wolf's head, rounded like a barrel; his pendant scalp-lock shot with gray. He and those with him were in gala dress, and the sun sparkled on elaborate beadwork and silver and gold ornaments and inlay of weapons.
He took one step forward as we halted, and his right arm went up in the graceful Iroquois salute.
"Qua, Ta-wan-ne-ars!" his voice boomed out. "You are welcome home, O my nephew. I can see that you have been brave against our enemies, for you carry a string of scalps at your belt. I can see that you have been honored, for Corlaer walks with you. I can see that you have been fortunate, for a strange white man walks beside you who has friendship in his face.
"Enter, O my nephew, with your white friends. The Council-House is made ready for them, and you will dwell with them a while until their feet have become accustomed to the new paths and their eyes see straight the unfamiliar things about them. We are eager to hear of your experiences and the deeds you have done. Enter!"
He turned on his heel and walked before us, and those who had accompanied him fell into single file behind us. So we paraded through the village—or rather I should say town, for it contained many thousand people—until we reached a house in the center where burned the tribal Council-Fire and where ambassadors and distinguished guests were lodged.
This house was oblong, almost square. The roy-an-ehs, chiefs and elders filed into it at our heels and arranged themselves around the fire in the center. Then squaws fetched in clay dishes of meats and vegetables of several kinds, as well as fruit, which they set down at intervals around the circle, and at a signal from Do-ne-ho-ga-weh everybody began to eat, each one dipping his fingers into whichever dish was nearest or most to his liking, but all governed by the utmost deference toward the wishes of their neighbors.