I was dumb. I could not speak. I dared not ask this girl why and by what knowledge she presumed to predict the death of Spencer, and to raise me up in his place and give me the same name.
In spite of me her magic made me shudder.
But now that I was truly an Oneida, and in absolute authority, I must act quickly.
"Come, then," said I in a shaky voice, "we People of the Rock must march on the Gates of Sunset. If my fate lies there, why then I am due to die in that place!... Make ready, Oneidas!"
The Screech-owl found a hollow under a windfall; and here we hurriedly hid our heavier baggage.
Then, when all had completed painting the Little Red Foot on their bellies, I stepped swiftly ahead of them and turned northwest.
"March," I said in a low voice.
We travelled as the honey-bee flies, and as rapidly while the going was good en route; but to cover this great triangle of forests we were obliged to use the tactics of hunting wolves and, from some given point, circle the surrounding country, in hopes of cutting the hidden British trail we sought.
This delayed us; but it was the only way. And, like trained hunting dogs, we even quartered and cut up the wilderness, halting and encircling Cherry Valley on the second day out, because I knew how familiar was Walter Butler with that region and with the people who inhabited it, and suspected that he might be likely to lead his first attack over ground he knew so well.
Ah, God!—had I known then what all the world knows now! And I erred only in guessing at the time of Cherry Valley's martyrdom, not in estimating the ferocious purpose of young Walter Butler.