"Peace," he said, again raising his hand, palm out; and again I raised my hand, saying, "Peace!"
From the scarlet pouch he drew a little stick, six inches long, and painted red.
"Look out," said I to the soldier, "that is a war-stick! If he shifts his rifle, aim at his heart."
But the runner had now brought to light from his pouch other sticks, some blood-red, some black ringed with white. These he gravely sorted, dropping the red ones back into his pouch, and naïvely displaying the black and white rods in a bunch.
"War-ragh-i-ya-gey!" he said, gently, adding, "I bear belts!"
It was the title given by our Mohawks to Sir William, and signified, "One who unites two peoples together."
"You wish to see Chief Warragh," I repeated, "and you come with your pouch full of little red sticks?"
He darted a keen glance at me, then, with a dignified gesture, laid his rifle down in the dew.
A little ashamed, I turned and dismissed the soldier, then advanced and gave the silent runner my hand, telling him that although his moccasins and pouch were strange, nevertheless the kin of the Cayugas were welcome to Johnson Hall. I pointed at his rifle, bidding him resume it. He raised it in silence.
"He is a belt-bearer," I thought to myself; "but his message is not of peace."