"It may be that my father speaks wise. The Indians know but a little, and may be they were wrong. They lost a great many warriors, it is true. But they pleased the eyes of their old men and squaws with many scalps of their enemies. A white man followed every warrior of the Senecas, in the path that leads to the happy hunting grounds of the Great Spirit."
The tone in which this reply of the Seneca was uttered was sufficiently startling. Ichabod stretched his tall form as if he was about to intrude upon the conversation, but at a gesture from Barton, he remained silent.
Deersfoot, after a moment's silence, continued: "We have come to have a talk with the pale-faces of the cottage. The Senecas have not got forked tongues. They have buried the hatchet with the Yengeese, and with the Colony pale-faces. They would not dig it up again. Let my brothers hear and be wise. Snake-tongue will speak."
With these words, he stepped back, with dignity, while Snake-tongue, after a few moment's hesitation, advanced towards Barton. In a low but musical voice, he commenced his harangue:
"My name is Snake-tongue. It is a good name for friends to bear—it is a bad name for enemies. The warrior is known by his name.
"Deersfoot has said that the Five Nations are weak, and that the pale-faces are strong. It may be so; I cannot dispute it. I have seen the Yankee pale-faces fight the Great King over the water for seven winters and summers—they must be strong. Deersfoot has spoken the truth.
"Deersfoot has said that the Five Nations grow weaker every day. We are now Six Nations, and we are weaker than when we were Five Nations. Why is it so? The pale-faces have slain a great many of our warriors; but that has not made us weak. It is because the Great Spirit has turned the hearts of his red children against each other. If a pale-face slays an Indian, it is wrong; but it is not so wrong as it is for one Indian to slay another. The sad spirit of the dead warrior goes on its path, and complains to the Great Spirit, that its enemy does not follow him, and the Great Spirit is angry. We must shed the blood of the murderer. It is the law of the Great Spirit, and it is a good law.
"The Yankee pale-faces are strong, when they come together in armies; but are they strong here? My father is away from his friends in the settlements; he has but two or three pale-paces with him. Are two or three pale-faces a match for the young warriors of the Senecas? Let my father pause and think."
"There are five of us, Snake-tongue, with plenty of rifles and powder; and good walls behind which we can stand and pick out our enemies," said Barton, who saw the tendency of this harangue, and who was disposed to meet the issue half way.
Snake-tongue continued, cold and impassive. "My father speaks the truth. There are five warriors to defend the cottage of the pale-faces. There are four pale-faces, and a red man. But we have buried the hatchet with the pale-faces:—we are no longer enemies, but friends. We do not care whether there are five warriors or twenty in the cottage. We are at peace with the pale-faces. It makes no difference to us. We are friends."