Back in the valley of the Illinois, after the departure of the little group of French from the village, all pretense at peace was cast aside, and Iroquois fury turned itself loose. The Illinois had gone, leaving them only a deserted village, on which they wreaked their vengeance. Having destroyed the lodges by fire, they dug up the caches of corn and burned and scattered the contents. Then they moved on to the village graveyard and tore down from the scaffolds the bodies that had been left there for a time before burial. From the graves of the village they dug up the long-buried relatives of the departed inhabitants, and scattered the bones in every direction. Out of pure fiendishness they despoiled this most sacred spot in the Indian town. On the half-burned poles of the lodges they hung skulls for the crows to pick. Then they followed the fleeing Illinois down the river.
The Illinois gathered again at the place where their women and children had taken refuge. It was a long narrow bit of land on the north bank of the river. Between it and solid ground was a heavy, muddy swamp across which only a four-foot path of firm ground was to be found. On this semi-island, half a league in length and but fifteen or twenty paces wide, the women had built temporary lodges. Only from the water side could attack be made, and here they piled up their pirogues in the form of a wall.
The Iroquois, following close after, camped on the shore directly across the river, where over a hundred huts were soon erected. On the bark of near-by trees they cut the savage story of the raid, and traced rude pictures of the chiefs and the number of warriors that each chief led out. Five hundred and eighty-two braves were thus recorded. On one tree a diagram was traced showing the scalps of the Illinois who had been killed and the number of captives who had been taken; while on their own record of warriors were figures represented as pierced with gunshot or wounded with arrows.
The Illinois, terrified by the pursuit of their enemy, crossed the narrow path to the mainland and took up their journey downstream. At night they again camped beside the river; and soon the fires of the Iroquois camp shot up from the other shore. Another day’s march, and again two camps appeared at night on opposite banks. The Iroquois, who did not yet dare to make an attack, hung on the flanks of the Illinois like a pack of cowardly wolves.
The Illinois traveled slowly, for they were greatly impeded by the women and children and old men, and food must be gathered by the way. But just as slowly and deliberately followed the Iroquois. Occasionally they tried to put the Illinois off their guard by offerings of peace; but the Illinois were wary. The two armies, marching side by side with only the river between, passed Peoria Lake, and the men of the Peoria village crossed over and joined their brethren. When the Iroquois came to the deserted ruins of Fort Crèvecœur below the village, they stopped long enough to pull the nails out of the timbers of the skeleton of the boat by the water’s edge.
Day after day the Illinois and Iroquois walked beside the river. Night after night camp-fires faced each other across the waters. On the way the Illinois had gathered many of their tribes together. The Peorias, the Cahokias, the Moingwenas, the Tamaroas, and several minor tribes had joined the moving army like parts of a rolling snowball. If only they were armed with guns and free from their wives and children, they might strike a blow that the Iroquois would long remember. But wiser counsels prevented such a move.
It became more and more difficult to find food for so many; and as they neared the Mississippi River they longed to separate and go off each tribe to its own hunting-ground. They held a parley with the enemy across the river, and a truce was declared. Then the Illinois tribes separated. The Moingwenas with several of the smaller tribes went down the Mississippi; the Peorias crossed to the western side; while the Kaskaskias and Cahokias preferred to go up the river toward the land of the Sioux. But the Tamaroas, most luckless of all, lingered near the mouth of the Illinois River. It was the opportunity for which the Iroquois had waited, for their long-time policy had been to “divide and conquer.” Such had been their plan when they came into the valley, separating the Miamis from the Illinois and falling upon the latter.
As soon as the other tribes were out of the way, the Iroquois attacked the Tamaroas. That feeble tribe fled in terror. Some of the men escaped, while the rest were massacred. Along the margin of the Illinois, not far from its mouth, was an open meadow; and here were enacted scenes such as had long made the Iroquois hated and feared. The captives were put to horrible torments: some were roasted to death, some skinned alive. The nerves and sinews of some were torn out; and when their tortures had done their work, the heads and even whole bodies of women and children were placed upon upright poles and upon stakes driven into the ground.
CHAPTER XV
A SIOUX WAR PARTY