The Long Journey

by Elsie Singmaster

He found himself taken by the hand and led up the hill, the strange forms following after. Through the Indian village where the women stared from firelit doorways, and where over great fires meat was cooking, to the center of the council he was taken, and there he was placed alone beside the council fire. About sat the chiefs, behind them in the shadowy circle the young men. Conrad stood still, his eyes seeking Quagnant. If death should come, he hoped its messenger would be a swift knife. The medicine men were behind him; it would be by their hands that the blow would be struck.

Shikellamy was the first to speak. Upon his magnificent body the firelight danced. His immobile face told nothing of his heart, but it seemed to Conrad that his voice was kind.

"We have listened to the story of our brother Quagnant," said he. "We believe that you are honest and true. We believe that you speak our words. In order that we may bind ourselves to you and you to us"—now Conrad's heart stood still—"in order that we may bind ourselves to you and you to us, we make you a member of the Five Nations. We give you our heart and you give us your heart. He who is our friend is your friend. He who is our enemy is your enemy. We invite you to the extended lodge, we bid you come to our feasts. We will give you in token deerskins to make you clothes and shoes."

Now there was a long pause. The rising wind moaned in the pine trees, the fire leaped. Shikellamy crossed to the council fire and held out his great hand.

"We give you also in token a new name. 'Eyes-like-the-Sky' you are to the children, but among men you are, 'He-holds-our-fate.'"

Now the King of Rivers came forward. A true Indian, he gave no sign that he recollected the camp of Blackheath and the strange encounter which reached now its stranger consummation.

"We are to see dark sights," said he. "I see wars, with Indians creeping upon pale-faces and pale-faces upon Indians. I hear cries to the Great Spirit. See that you, who are now our Tongue, are true to us. Then the English will conquer the French and the land will have peace. Between the Indian and the English is a bond. You are that bond."

Now Shikellamy spoke again.

"You will have a great name while you live, and after you die your Indian brothers will visit the place where you lie. Your children will say with pride, 'I am of the great He-holds-our-fate, his blood is mine, I have his brave heart.' Will you be true to your brothers?"