Satanstoe; Or, the Littlepage Manuscripts. A Tale of the Colony

by James Fenimore Cooper

“Been see—have see—know him just so. Come—call young men; go on war-path.”

Here, then, was an explanation of the mystery of the Onondago's absence! He had heard us speak of an intention of moving with the troops, at the last moment, and he had gone to reconnoitre, in order that we might have seasonable notice when it would be necessary to quit the 'Ridge,' as we familiarly termed the Patent. I saw nothing treasonable in this, but rather deemed it a sign of friendly interest in our concerns; though it was certainly 'running' much farther than the Indian had been directed to proceed, and 'running' a little off the track. One might overlook such an irregularity in a savage, however, more especially as I began to weary of the monotony of our present manner of living, and was not sorry to discover a plausible apology for a change.

The reader may be certain, it was not long before I had communicated the intelligence brought by the Trackless, to my companions; who received it as young men would be; apt to listen to tidings so stirring. The Onondago was summoned to our council, and he renewed his protestation that it was time for us to be moving.

“No stop”—he answered, when questioned again on the subject; “time go. Canoe ready—gun loaded—warrior counted—chief woke up—council fire gone out. Time, go.”

“Well then, Corny,” said Guert, rising and stretching his fine frame like a lion roused from his lair, “here's off. We can go to Ravensnest to sleep, to-day; and, to-morrow we will work our way out into the highway, and fall into the line of march of the army. I shall have another opportunity of seeing Mary Wallace, and of telling her how much I love her. That will be so much gained, at all events.”

“No see squaw—no go to Nest!” said the Indian, with energy. “War-path this way,” pointing in a direction that might have varied a quarter of a circle from that to Herman Mordaunt's settlement. “Bad for warrior to see squaw when he dig up hatchet—only make woman of him. No; go this way—path there—no here—scalp there—squaw here.”

As the gestures of the Onondago were quite as significant as his language, we had no difficulty in understanding him. Guert continued his questions, however, while dressing, and we all soon became convinced, by the words of the Indian, broken and abrupt as they were, that Abercrombie was on the point of embarking with his army on Lake George, and that we must needs be active, if we intended to be present at the contemplated operations in front of Ticonderoga.

Our decision was soon reached, and our preparations made. By packing and shouldering his knapsack, and arming himself, each man would be ready; though a short delay grew out of the absence of Traverse and his chain-bearers. We wrote a letter, however, explaining the reason of our intended absence, promising to return as soon as the operations in front of Ty should be terminated. This letter we left with Pete, who was to remain as cook, though Jaap bestirred himself, loaded his broad shoulders with certain indispensables for our march, took his rifle, pack and horn and was ready to move as soon as any of us. All this the fellow did, moreover, without orders; deeming it a part of his duty to follow his young master, even if he followed him to evil. No dog, indeed, could be truer, in this particular, than Jaap or Jacob Satanstoe, for he had adopted the name of the Neck as his patronymic; much as the nobles of other regions style themselves after their lands.

When all was ready, and we were on the point of quitting the hut, the question arose seriously, whether we were to go by Ravensnest, or by the new route that the Onondago had mentioned. Path there was not, in either direction; but, we had land-marks, springs, and other known signs, on the former; while of the latter we literally knew nothing. Then Anneke and Mary Wallace, with their bright, blooming, sunny faces—bright and happy whenever we appeared, most certainly, of late—were in the former direction, and even Dirck cried out 'for Ravensnest.' But, on that route the Onondago refused to stir one foot. He stood, resembling a finger-post, pointing north-westerly with an immovable obstinacy, that threatened to bring the order of our march into some confusion.

“We know nothing of that route, Trackless,” Guert observed, or rather replied, for the Indian's manner was so expressive as to amount to a remark, “and we would rather travel a road with which we are a little acquainted. Besides, we wish to pay our parting compliments to the ladies.”