"Koui! koui!" exclaimed a number of voices, and one of the old sachems rose, saying in slow and deliberate tones: "Our white brother has the words of truth and resolution. The Oneida has shown the speed of the deer, but not the wisdom of the tortoise. The law of the Oneida is our law, and he should have waited at least one moon to see if the right man could be found. The Oneida must be in trouble at his own hastiness. Let us deliver him from the pit into which he has fallen, but let us do it with the silent wisdom of the snake, which creeps through the grass where no one sees him. The rattlesnake is the most foolish of reptiles, for he talks of what he is going to do beforehand. We will be more wise than he is, and as our thoughts are good, we will keep them for ourselves. Let us only say, 'The boy shall be delivered, if the Mohawks and the Onondagas can do it;' but let us not say how; for a man who gives away a secret deprives himself of what he can never recover, and benefits nothing but the wind. I have said."
All the assembled chiefs expressed their approbation of the old man's words, and seemed to consider the discussion concluded. Mr. Prevost, indeed, was anxious to have something more definite, but Sir William Johnson nodded his head significantly, saying in a low tone: "We have done as much, nay, more than we could expect. It will be necessary to close our conference with some gifts, which will be, as it were, a seal upon our covenant."
"But have they entered into any covenant?" rejoined Mr. Prevost. "I have heard of none made yet on their part."
"As much as Indians ever do," answered Sir William Johnson, "and you can extract nothing more from them with your utmost skill."
He then called some of his people from without into the hall, ordered the stores to be opened, and brought forth some pieces of scarlet cloth, one of the most honorable presents which could be offered to an Indian chief. A certain portion was cut off for each, and received with grave satisfaction. Mats and skins were then spread upon the floor in great abundance. Long pipes were brought in and handed round, and after having smoked together in profound silence for nearly half an hour, the chiefs stretched themselves out upon the ground and composed themselves to rest.
Sir William Johnson and his guest, as a mark of confidence and brotherhood, remained with them throughout the night, but retired to the farther end of the hall. They did not sleep as soon as their dusky companions. Their conversation, though carried on in low tones, was, nevertheless, eager and anxious, for the father could not help still feeling great apprehensions regarding the fate of his son; and Sir William Johnson was not altogether without alarm regarding the consequences of the very determination to which he had brought the chiefs of the Mohawks and Onondagas. Symptoms of intestine discord had of late been perceived in the great Indian confederacy. They had not acted on the behalf of England with the unanimity which they had displayed in former years, and it was the policy of the British government by every means to heal all divisions and consolidate their union, as well as to attach them more and more firmly to the English cause. Although he doubted not that whatever was done by the chiefs with whom he had just been in conference would be effected with the utmost subtlety and secrecy, yet there was still the danger of producing a conflict between them and the Oneidas in the attempt, or causing angry feeling, even if it were successful; and Sir William, who was not at all insensible to his government's approbation, felt some alarm at the prospect before him. However, he and Mr. Prevost both slept, at length, and the following morning saw the chiefs dispersing in the gray dawn of a cold and threatening morning.
CHAPTER XVIII
The snow was falling fast, the early snow of northern America. Otaitsa stole forth from the shelter of the great lodge, passed amongst the huts around, and out into the fields through the opening in the palisade. She was going where she wished not her steps to be traced, and she knew that the fast falling snow would speedily fill up every footprint. Quietly and gracefully she glided on till she reached the edge of the deep wood, and then along a little frequented trail, till, at the distance of about half a mile, her eyes, keenly bent forward, perceived something brown, crouching, still and motionless, under cover of a young hemlock, the branches of which nearly swept the ground. As the Blossom approached, a head, covered with glossy black hair rolled up behind, was raised above a little bush which partly hid the woman's figure; and, coming nearer, the girl asked, in a low voice, "Did he pass?"
"No," answered the young maiden to whom she spoke. "It was Apukwa, the medicine man."
Otaitsa waved her head sadly to and fro, saying, "Now I understand;" and then, speaking to the girl again, she said: "Now back to the Castle, through the bush, then to the other trail, and then home."