David.—Yes, ’tis so.
Zeisb.—And yet you said nothing, and followed with the rest as if all had been right!
David.—Yes; the guides are somewhat older than myself; they took the lead, and never asked me whether I had any knowledge of the country. If they had enquired, I would have told them.
Zeisb.—Will you now tell them?
David.—No, indeed; unless they ask me. It does not become an Indian to instruct his elders.
The question was then asked him at the instigation of Mr. Zeisberger, when he immediately told them that they must all return to a certain spot, six miles back, and then direct their course more to the north-east, which would bring them to a gap in the mountain, where they could pass through with great ease. They did so, and he followed them, and being now desired to take the lead, he did it, and brought them to the very spot he had described, and from thence led them all the way to Wyoming. This difficult part of the road, in the swamp, has been since called David’s path, and the state road now passes through it.[172]
This anecdote was told me by Mr. Zeisberger himself, whom I have never known to say anything that was not strictly true. I therefore give it full credit; the more so, as I have myself witnessed two similar instances, with the relation of which I shall conclude this chapter.
The first happened in the year 1791. I had parted by accident from the company I was with, and lost my way in the woods. I had with me an Indian lad about twelve or thirteen years of age, and wished him to take the lead, to which, however, he would not consent. We were at last found by our party, who had gone in search of us. I complained to them of the boy, for not doing what I had bidden him; but they answered, “that he had done right, and that it did not become a boy to walk before a man and be his leader.”
The second occurrence of the like kind, took place in the year 1798. I was on a journey with two young Indians, from Upper Canada to the Muskingum, round the head of Lake Erie.[173] Neither of these Indians having ever been in the country we were going to, they received their instructions from others before their departure. The leader, however, whose name was Leonhard, having once mistaken a path, we travelled several miles in a wrong direction, until, at last, I discovered the mistake, by our having the Owl creek to our left, when we ought to have had it to our right. I observed this to Christian, the young Indian in the rear, who coinciding with me in opinion, I desired him to run forward to Leonhard, who was far ahead of us, and to bring him back; but the lad answered that he could not do it. I asked him the reason. “It is,” said he, “because I am younger than he is.” “Will you then,” replied I, “take my message to him, and tell him that I desire him to return to this place, where I will wait for him?” The young man immediately consented, went forward to Leonhard, and brought him back, on which we took an eastward course through the wood to the Owl creek, and, after crossing it, fell into our right path.
