The Trail of the Seneca

by James A. Braden

But there was another reason for a feeling of happiness in the Delaware town, and particularly was Lone-Elk, the Seneca, in a good humor. This very day there had arrived the two warriors whom Captain Pipe had sent with an offering of white wampum to the friends of him Lone-Elk had slain. Not as compensation, not as damages for the injury done, had the gift of wampum pure and white been sent, but as a plea for forgiveness; as a symbol of the slayer’s penitence and sorrow.

It was somewhat unusual for an offering of peace to be accepted so long after the crime had been committed, and it was known, too, that Lone-Elk’s offense had been particularly cruel. So was there very good reason for the Seneca to shake hands with his Delaware friends and receive their congratulations.

Captain Pipe thought the outcast seemed less truly sorry for his crime than he should have been. He little liked the haughty manner in which the one so lately restored to a place of honor and respect in his own tribe and nation bore himself. Perhaps he thought, also, that the Seneca was less appreciative of the service rendered him than he should have been. Nevertheless he gave the bold warrior his hand and told him that, though he was now free to return to his own people, he would have a place of honor among the Delawares as long as he chose to remain with them.

John Jerome heard by degrees of what had happened. He wondered if the Seneca would not now be less bitter toward him, and more fair and honorable. But he was grievously disappointed. Lone-Elk showed himself more hostile, if possible, than before; more keen to carry out his plot to avenge the pretended killing of Big Buffalo by witchcraft; more intense in his hatred.

As he learned just how matters stood, John’s only hope for escape lay in Return Kingdom and the men of whom Fishing Bird had told him. He knew they would attempt to rescue him, but seeing how greatly they were out-numbered, fear of the outcome worried him more and more. It was bad enough for him to suffer, he declared within himself, again and again, without dragging Ree and others to the same fate.

The hour of the council to inquire into the guilt of the prisoner arrived. The Indians assembled and once again John found himself in the long, low bark house where always in the past he had met the Delawares as friends. Captain Pipe and every buck and warrior of the village was in attendance; but more conspicuous than any of them, more proud and more erect, was Lone-Elk, the Seneca. In his hands he held the hatchet brought by him from the cornfield of the young Palefaces, the hatchet with which, he said, Big Buffalo had been slain. It was the evidence that-would substantiate his story of the witch’s work.

Captain Pipe stated the purpose of the council briefly and quietly. Then he informed the prisoner that the Delawares would hear what he had to say, but urged him to confess his sin and not, on the eve of death, be guilty of a lie.

With face and body blackened, his hands bound to a stick behind him, the accused boy arose. He tried to be bold and fearless, but, though he looked the Indians squarely in the eyes, he could not speak as he wished to do. His voice did not falter, but the words seemed somehow to refuse to come.

The charge against him was false, he said, and time would prove it. Never except in fair fight had he harmed any Indian. He would leave it to Captain Pipe to judge if he had not always conducted himself as a friend of the Delawares. He reminded them how, only the past winter, he had brought their women and children food while the able men were away for the fighting that had taken place. With a suppressed sigh as he saw how little impression he had made on the hostile faces round him, John sat down.

In an instant Lone-Elk was on his feet. With head thrown back and flashing eyes he repeated the story of the cloud which drifted over the lake—repeated again the whole miserable tale he had told so many times before. Then he exhibited the hatchet taken from the shock of corn on which a crow of most strange appearance had the same day been seen.