When they had approached within fifteen or twenty feet of the position occupied by Barton and Ichabod, the former advanced towards them with a smile, and welcomed them to his cottage.
"It is not often," said he, "that I have an opportunity to honor the young warriors of the Senecas. It is seldom that they visit the country of the Oneidas, in time of peace."
"The Oneidas and Senecas are brothers," said Deersfoot. "A cloud sometimes has passed between them; but there is no cloud now. They are brothers still. The young men of the Senecas came to look on the hunting grounds of their brothers."
"The country of the Senecas is not a good country, then?" asked Barton, "I had heard that the Senecas dwelt in a garden—that they owned large lakes that are filled with fish, and forests that are filled with deer."
"My father," said Deersfoot, in deference to the grey hairs of Barton, "my father tells the truth; such is the country of the Senecas. The Great Spirit has given us a good land to dwell in. He has given us lakes that are full of fish, and forests that are full of deer. The Senecas and Oneidas belong to the same nation;—together they conquered the Sennape; and the Senecas are proud when they hear of the fame of the Oneidas. Why should we not love to look upon the country of our brothers?"
"I am glad that you like to look upon this valley, Deersfoot. I am glad to hear that there is no cloud between the Senecas and the Oneidas. It would not be well if there were."
Barton had carefully abstained from touching the point which was likely to be that of controversy. It never comports with the dignity of an Indian to show haste or curiosity; and he knew that he could maintain a better position on the question which would probably arise, if he suffered them, without any manifestation of curiosity on his part, to unfold the nature of their errand.
"The Five Nations were once a great nation," said Deersfoot, "they could travel a great many day's journey and not leave their country: the wolf that howled amidst the snows north of the great lakes, they had a right to hunt; and to gather fruits from under the warm sun of the south. But it is not so now. We are now weak; and the pale-faces are strong. The Great Spirit has willed it, and we cannot help it: we would help it if we could. But it does no good to talk. We grow weaker every day."
"The Great Spirit," said Barton, "has not been so unkind to the Five Nations. The warriors of the Five Nations have not always been wise. If they had listened to the words of the Christian teachers who have talked to them, they would have been a stronger nation. But they dug up the hatchet against their brothers of the Colonies, and they lost a great many warriors."
A gleam of deadly ferocity passed over the face of Deersfoot for a moment, and his wild, dark eyes shot forth glances of hatred—but in an instant he recovered his composure.