"Have you heard of the little maid of Askalege? Yonder she stands, thank God! For the Oneida follow their prophetess; and the Oneida are with us in this war if she becomes our friend!"
I had heard of the little Athabasca girl, found in the forest by Skenandoa and Spencer, and how she grew up like a boy at Askalege, with the brave half-breed interpreter, Thomas Spencer; and how it was her delight to roam the forests and talk—they said—to trees and beasts by moonlight; how she knew the language of all things living, and could hear the tiny voices of the growing grass! Legends and fairy tales, but by many believed.
Yet, Sir William had seen the child at Askalege dancing in the stream of sparks that poured from Spencer's smithy when the Oneida blacksmith pumped his home-made bellows or struck fire-flakes from the cherry-red iron.
I said: "Are you sure, Nick? For never have I seen an Indian maid play boy in earnest."
"She is the little witch-maid of Askalege—their prophetess," he repeated. "I saw her once at Oneida Lake, dancing on the shore amid a whirl of yellow butterflies at their strawberry feast. God send she favours our party, for the Oneidas will follow her."
I turned to the girl, who was standing quietly beside a young silver birch-tree.
"Who are you, my sister, who wear a little blue moon on your brow, and the dress and weapons of an adolescent?"
"Brother," she said in her soft Oneida tongue, "I am an Athabascan of the Heron Clan, adopted into the Oneida nation. My name is Thiohero,[7] and my privilege is Oyaneh.[8] Brother, I come as a friend to liberty, and to help you fight your great war against your King.
"Brother, I have spoken," she concluded, with lowered eyes.
Surprised and charmed by this young girl's modesty and quiet speech, but not knowing how to act, I thanked her as I had the young men, and offered her my hand.