Lost in the Backwoods: A Tale of the Canadian Forest

by Catharine Parr Strickland Traill

The Indians, intent only on the sport which they had come to enjoy, seemed in high glee, and apparently peaceably disposed; every night they returned to the camp on the north side. The boys could see their fires gleaming among the trees on the opposite shore; and now and then, in the stillness of the evening, their wild shouts of revelry would come faintly to their ears, borne by the breeze over the waters of the lake.

The allusion that Indiana had made to her own history, though conveyed in broken and hardly intelligible language, had awakened feelings of deep interest for her in the breasts of her faithful friends. Many months after this she related to her wondering auditors the fearful story of the massacre of her kindred, which I will now relate, as I have raised the curiosity of my youthful readers.

There had been for some time a jealous feeling existing between the chiefs of two principal tribes of the Ojebwas and the Mohawks, which like a smothered fire had burned in the heart of each without having burst into a decided blaze; for each strove to compass his ends and obtain the advantage over the other by covert means. The tribe of the Mohawks of which I now speak claimed the southern shores of the Rice Lake for their hunting-grounds, and certain islands and parts of the lake for fishing, while that of the Ojebwas considered themselves masters of the northern shores and certain rights of water besides. [Footnote: The facts of this narrative were gathered from the lips of the eldest son of a Rice Lake chief. I have preferred giving it in the present form, rather than as the story of the Indian girl. Simple as it is, it is matter of history.] Possibly it was about these rights that the quarrel originated; but if so, it was not openly avowed between the "Black Snake" (that was the totem borne by the Mohawk chief) and the "Bald Eagle" (the totem of the Ojebwa).

These chiefs had each a son, and the Bald Eagle had also a daughter of great and rare beauty, called by her people the "Beam of the Morning." She was the admiration of Mohawks as well as Ojebwas, and many of the young men of both the tribes had sought her hand, but hitherto in vain. Among her numerous suitors, the son of the Black Snake seemed to be the most enamoured of her beauty; and it was probably with some intention of winning the favour of the young Ojebwa squaw for his son, that the Black Snake accepted the formal invitation of the Bald Eagle to come to his hunting-grounds during the rice-harvest, and shoot deer and ducks on the lake, and to ratify a truce which had been for some time set on foot between them. But while outwardly professing friendship and a desire for peace, inwardly the fire of hatred burned fiercely in the breast of the Black Snake against the Ojebwa chief and his only son, a young man of great promise, renowned among his tribe as a great hunter and warrior, but who had once offended the Mohawk chief by declining a matrimonial alliance with one of the daughters of a chief of inferior rank who was closely connected to him by marriage. This affront rankled in the heart of the Black Snake, though outwardly he affected to have forgiven and forgotten the slight that had been put upon his relative.

The hunting had been carried on for some days very amicably, when one day the Bald Eagle was requested, with all due attention to Indian etiquette, to go to the wigwam of the Black Snake. On entering the lodge, he perceived the Mohawk strangely disordered: he rose from his mat, on which he had been sleeping, with a countenance fearfully distorted, his eyes glaring hideously, his whole frame convulsed and writhing as in fearful bodily anguish; and casting himself upon the ground he rolled and grovelled on the earth, uttering frightful yells and groans.

The Bald Eagle was moved at the distressing state in which he found his guest, and asked the cause of his disorder, but this the other refused to tell. After some hours the fit appeared to subside, but the chief remained moody and silent. The following day the same scene was repeated; and on the third, when the fit seemed to have increased in bodily agony, with great apparent reluctance, wrung seemingly from him by the importunity of his host, he consented to reveal the cause, which was, that the Bad Spirit had told him that these bodily tortures could not cease till the only son of his friend, the Ojebwa chief, had been sacrificed to appease his anger, neither could peace long continue between the two nations until this deed had been done; and not only must the chief's son be slain, but his flesh must be served up at a feast at which the father must preside. The Black Snake affected the utmost horror and aversion at so bloody and unnatural a deed being committed to save his life and the happiness of his tribe, but the peace was to be ratified for ever if the sacrifice were made,—if not, war to the knife was to be ever between the Mohawks and Ojebwas.

The Bald Eagle, seeing that his treacherous guest would make this an occasion of renewing a deadly warfare, for which possibly he was not at the time well prepared, assumed a stoical calmness, and replied,—

"Be it so; great is the power of the Bad Spirit to cause evil to the tribes of the chiefs that rebel against his will. My son shall be sacrificed by my hand, that the evil one may be appeased, and that the Black Snake's body may have ease, and his people rest beside the fires of their lodges in peace."

"The Bald Eagle has spoken like a chief with a large heart," was the specious response of the wily Mohawk, "moreover, the Good Spirit also appeared, and said, 'Let the Black Snake's son and the Bald Eagle's daughter become man and wife, that peace may be found to dwell among the lodges, and the war-hatchet be buried for ever.'"

"The Beam of the Morning shall become the wife of the Young Pine," was the courteous answer; but stern revenge lay deep hidden beneath the unmoved brow and passionless lip.