The frontiersmen

by Gustave Aimard

"No get my scalp this time;" said Eagle's-Wing. "I get another scalp first;" and he pointed to a bleeding trophy of a recent encounter, with all the pride with which a victorious general would have pointed to the capture of the standards and munitions of war of a vanquished enemy.

"What's the meaning of all this, Eagle's-Wing?" asked Ichabod, with evident disgust at beholding the bleeding trophy. "Why has Canendesha dug up the hatchet, when the pale-faces and their Indian allies have buried it?"

"I no dig it up," answered the Tuscarora, with energy; "Seneca dig it up. I must have Panther's scalp too," and he was about following the canoe up the river.

"Stop a moment, Eagle's-Wing," exclaimed Ichabod, who laid his strong hand on the shoulder of his friend. "I want to know the meaning of all this; you must not go after them Injins now. I hate a Seneca, on general principles, as much as you do; but it won't do to go scalping round in these days, without good reason for it. Let me know what's the matter, and if it's anything where a friend can help with an easy conscience, I'll rush into the speculation."

Thus urged, the Indian, after a sufficient time had elapsed to satisfy the dignity of a chief, proceeded to relate one of those romances of the forest, which, in general feature, may not be very dissimilar to those of civilized life—the only difference consisting in the darker and wilder coloring which belongs to pictures of savage life. We will not attempt to give it in the precise words and with the manner of the Tuscarora, although we hope to exhibit in some degree the energy with which some portions of it were related.

It seemed that a short time before, a band of Senecas, for some purpose, had been hanging about the villages of the Oneidas and Tuscaroras, situated some fifty miles north of that portion of the valley about which we are now writing. Their business did not seem to be of a warlike nature, and frequent visits of ceremony had been exchanged between the chiefs of the once hostile tribes: and professions were made by the Senecas of a desire to unite once more the severed bond of union between the different nations of the confederacy. This condition of things existed for a few days, when it was announced by the Senecas that they were about to depart towards their own villages. The Tuscarora, the day before that announced for the departure of the Senecas, made them a visit of ceremony, accompanied by his young wife, whose Indian name, translated into English, was Singing-Bird. The visitors were treated with the utmost distinction, although Eagle's-Wing fancied that on one or two occasions he observed symptoms of a revival of the old feeling of hostility towards him, which the late conflicts had engendered. The band of Senecas consisted of about thirty-five warriors, under the command of Panther, whose treacherous and perfidious nature Eagle's-Wing was well acquainted with.

But the Tuscarora was brave, and if he felt, did not exhibit any symptoms of the suspicions which occupied his mind. At length on the approach of evening, the Tuscarora announced his departure. Panther courteously accompanied him a short distance from the lodge, when suddenly a number of Indians who had been secreted in ambush, sprang upon the Tuscarora and the young squaw, and they were at once bound and brought back to the lodge. The Indians made immediate preparations for departure—as would be necessary, indeed, after such an act of perfidy—for the Tuscaroras and Oneidas, whose villages were situated but a few miles distant, would shortly suspect the treachery, and come in search of the prisoners. Panther's motive in this double act of treachery and inhospitality, was supposed to be a feeling of revenge towards the Tuscarora—who had signalized himself during the war, by his friendship for the cause of the Colonies—and also a desire to obtain the beautiful Singing-Bird for his own wigwam.

The Senecas, with their prisoners, had marched all that night in a southerly direction, making use of all the devices of which an Indian is capable, to conceal the direction of their march. Near morning, the Tuscarora, although closely guarded, had found means to escape; but instead of retracing his steps to get assistance from his own people or from the Oneidas, he followed on the trail of the Senecas, hoping that he should find some means to release Singing-Bird from her captivity. He also hoped that his brethren, discovering, as they certainly would, the treachery that had been used towards him, would send out a party of warriors to rescue him.

The Senecas had passed along the valley on the day when we first introduced the Tuscarora to the reader. They had encamped on the flats, about two miles below the shanty we have mentioned, but in a direction much nearer the river than that taken by Ralph and Miss Barton, in their journey of the day before.

The Tuscarora, after the party, on the night before, had left the shanty, carefully obliterated all traces of the recent occupancy of the hut, and proceeded towards the encampment of the Senecas. He had nearly accomplished his purpose of delivering Singing-Bird, who was confined in a temporary wigwam which had been erected for her, when he was discovered by a young warrior of the Senecas. A conflict, brief but terrible, had ensued, which resulted in the death of the Seneca; and although this conflict had prevented the execution of his purpose, he succeeded in bearing away the usual Indian trophy of victory.