"He is not safe even till the word is spoken," said Otaitsa, "for they are bad men that hold him. They took him contrary to our customs. They despise our laws. They are Honontkoh, and fear nothing but the tomahawk of the Black Eagle. They drink blood. They slay their mothers and their brethren. They are Honontkoh!"
A murmur of awe and indignation at the hated name of the dark secret order existing amongst the Indians, but viewed with apprehension and hatred by all the more noble warriors of the tribes, ran round the circle, and Black Eagle rose, saying: "Let them be examined, and if the stripe be found upon them, set honest men to guard the lad. To-morrow, at the great council, we will discuss his fate, and the Great Spirit send us dreams of what is right. Come with me, my child. The Blossom is ever dear."
Thus saying, he turned and entered the lodge.
CHAPTER XXI
About two o'clock on the following day long lines of Indian chiefs and warriors might be seen approaching the great Oneida village. Soon after, a great fire was lighted before the door of the principal lodge, and, as on the preceding evening, the warriors were ranged in a circle round, and the women and children in another beyond. The great chief, dressed in all the glittering finery of the Indian peace costume, with feathers and red and white head dress, and crimson mantle, and embroidered shirt and overdress, and medals innumerable hung around his neck, took the seat of honor with a grave dignity, such as few civilized monarchs have, even after the greatest study, been able to attain. He wore no warlike weapons, nothing but a single knife appeared in his girdle, and in his hand he carried the richly ornamented calumet, or pipe of piece.
Close behind her father sat Otaitsa, with her heart greatly troubled, but less, perhaps, with fear than with expectation. The Black Eagle had been kind and tender with her when they had been alone together. He had held her to his heart with a display of fondness such as an Indian rarely shows openly to his child. He had listened to the whole tale of her love for Walter Prevost without a word of disapprobation or reproach, and sometimes even a playful smile had come upon his dark, stern face as her words recalled the memory of feelings experienced in youth, like a well-remembered song heard again after a long lapse of years. Instead of reprehending her attempt to deliver Walter, he commended it highly. "It was thy part, my child; thou shouldst have been a boy, Otaitsa; the warrior's spirit is in the maiden's bosom."
But when she came to speak of her lover's fate, to plead, to sue, to entreat, the stern, grave coldness of the Indian chief returned; and though she could see that he was full of fixed resolves, she could in no way discover what they were. The explanation of them she knew was now to come, and it may be imagined with what eager and intense interest she listened for every word.
There was, of course, some little confusion as the multitude took their places, but it was soon hushed, and then a deep silence spread around. The great pipe was lighted, and sent from hand to hand till it had passed all around the circle, and then, and not till then, Black Eagle rose and spoke.
"Have my words been heard?" he said. "Have my warriors examined whether any of the dark and infernal order of the Honontkoh are amongst us?"
He seated himself again as soon as he had made the inquiry, and after a moment's pause two middle-aged warriors, who had been with him on the preceding day, rose and took a step forward, while one of them said: "We have heard thy words, and examined. The brother of the Snake, Apukwa, the medicine man, and the Flying Squirrel are Honontkoh. The stripe is upon them and upon none else."