At that moment the young warrior was listening with eager interest to the stories of white men and their great winged canoes, told by Samoset, an Abenaki youth of his own age, who had accompanied his chieftain to the council at Montaup.
"What do they call their tribe?" inquired Nahma, "and of what nature is their speech? Doth it resemble ours so that one may comprehend their words?"
"They appear to be of many tribes," replied Samoset, "though we call them all 'Yengeese.' Also they speak with many tongues, strange and unpleasant to the ear."
"What are they like, these tongues? Hast thou not caught some word that we may hear?"
"Often they say 'Hillo' and 'Sacré,'" replied Samoset, "but what these mean I know not. Also, once, where from hiding I watched them cooking fish on a beach, a pebble rolled from me to them. As they sprang up in alarm I slipped away, fearing lest they might take offence. As I did so one of them cried out very loud, 'Mass i-sawit!'" (By the mass I saw it.)
"Massasoit," repeated Nahma, thoughtfully. "It hath a familiar sound, and might be a word of the Wampanoags, except that it is without meaning. I long greatly to see these white-skinned fish-catchers and their big canoes that resemble floating hill-tops with trees growing in them. So if it may be arranged I will return with thee, Samoset, to look upon these wonders. But you have said naught of the thunder-sticks about which we hear so much. What of them? Are they indeed as terrible as represented?"
Ere Samoset could answer, Nahma received word that Longfeather desired his presence, and, promising shortly to rejoin his companions, he left them. Ten minutes later, without their knowledge or that of any person in all Montaup, save only his parents, the young runner had left his father's lodge bound on a solitary mission, longer, more important, and more dangerous than any he had heretofore undertaken. He was to make his way with all speed and in utmost secrecy to Sacandaga, head sachem of the Maquas, and urge him, in the name of Longfeather, not to treat with the Narragansetts or any other single tribe before the arrival of the Peacemaker's own embassy.
Longfeather had given his instructions hastily and in a few words. He had invested the lad with his own superb belt as a badge of authority, and had dismissed him with the peremptory orders of a sachem, delivered in the loving tone of a father who sends his only son into danger.
Besides the Belt of Seven Totems, Nahma carried only a bow and arrows slung to his back, a wallet of parched corn bruised in a mortar until it formed a coarse meal, a small fire-bag of flints and tinder, and a copper knife, the precious gift of his father. Having taken but five minutes for preparation, he tenderly embraced his mother and bade her farewell. Filled with a presentiment of coming evil, Miantomet clung to him as though she could not let him go; but, comforting her with loving words, the lad gently disengaged her arms from about his neck and sprang away. In another minute he had plunged into the forest and was lost to sight amid its blackness.