The returning path of the great Oneida chief was pursued by him and his companions with a slow and heavy tread. Not a word was spoken by any one; for deep grief and embarrassment were upon each; and all felt that there was much justice in the reproof of the young Mohawk. They had come forth with feelings of much indignation and anger at the intelligence which had been received of the interference of other tribes in the affairs of the Oneida people, and they still felt much irritation at the course which had been pursued; but their pride was humbled, and their native sense of justice touched by the vivid picture which had been given of the view which might be taken by others, of their conduct towards Walter Prevost. They knew, indeed, that that conduct was mainly attributable to one family of one Totem; but they felt that the shame fell upon the whole nation, and would be reflected to a certain degree upon the confederacy generally.
Nothing grieved or depressed the Indian so much as the sense of shame. It was produced, of course, by very different causes from those which affected a European: still it was very powerful; and Black Eagle felt that, in the case of Walter Prevost, the customs of his own people had been violated by his hasty seizure; and that he himself, the chief of the nation, was in some degree responsible in the eyes of all men for an act which he had permitted, if he had not done.
At this time, while the confederacy of the Five powerful Nations remained entire, and a certain apprehensive sense of their danger from the encroachments of the Europeans was felt by all the Indian tribes, a degree of power and authority had fallen to the great chiefs which probably had not been accorded to them in earlier and more simple times. The great chief of the Mohawks called himself King, and in some degree exercised the authority of a monarch. Black Eagle, indeed, assumed no different title than the ordinary Indian appellation of Sachem; but his great renown, and his acknowledged wisdom, had perhaps rendered his authority more generally reverenced than that of any other chief in the confederacy. The responsibility, therefore, weighed strongly upon him; and it was with feelings of deep gloom and depression that he entered the great Oneida village shortly before the hour of sunset.
The women and children were all assembled to see the warriors pass; all, excepting Otaitsa, who sat before the door of Black Eagle's great lodge, with her head bent down under an oppressive sense of the difficulties and dangers of her coming task.
Black Eagle saw her well, and saw that she was moved by deep grief; but he gave no sign even of perceiving her; and, moving slowly and with an unchanged countenance to the door, he seated himself beside her, while his warriors ranged themselves around, and the women and young people formed another circle beyond the first. It was done without concert and without intimation; but all knew that the chief would speak before they parted.
Otaitsa remained silent, in the same position, out of reverence for her father; and, after a pause, the voice of Black Eagle was heard, saying,--
"My children, your father is grieved. Were he a woman, he would weep. The reproach of his people, and the evil conduct of his allies, would bring water into the eyes that never were moist. But there is a storm upon us--the heaviest storm that ever has fallen. The waters of our lake are troubled, and we have troubled them ourselves. We must have counsel. We must call the wisdom of many men to avert the storm. Let, then, three of my swiftest warriors speed away to the heads of the eight tribes, and tell them to come hither before the west is dark to-morrow, bringing with them their wisest men. Then shall my children know my mind, and the Black Eagle shall have strength again."
He paused; and Otaitsa sprang upon her feet, believing that intelligence of what she had done had reached her father's ears.
"Ere thou sendest for the chiefs, hear thy daughter."
Black Eagle was surprised; but no sign of it was apparent on his face. He slowly bowed his head; and the Blossom went on:--