Chagrined and vexed beyond measure that they had once more been baulked of their prey, and that the "Iroquois devils" had got the best of them, they discontinued the useless pursuit, and returned to the fort.
The Indians travelled quickly, and soon reached the head waters of the Genesee River, and on the afternoon of the fifth day, from a lofty eminence they looked down upon the lodges and wigwams of their tribe in the peaceful valley below.
A triumphant yell broke from their lips as they beheld this welcome sight, for ever welcome to the soul of the returning warrior is the lodge that he calls his home. The village was quickly deserted by its inhabitants, for every stripling and maiden, all the squaws and children came dancing and shouting to receive them.
With all the agility and suppleness of the deer, the Indian youths came bounding forth to caper about the braves, to finger those gruesome trophies that hung at their girdles, and to carry their rifles and tomahawks. Their faces were radiant with the lofty hero-worship that burned in their young hearts. How they longed to leave the comparative security of the village and join the war parties!
The maidens, too, well versed in all the art and coquetry of the forest, their long raven tresses decked with flowers, their dark eyes beaming with love, welcomed home their sweethearts with unfeigned joy. But there is always a fly in the honey, and the joy of victory was somewhat marred by the bitter lamenting of those squaws whose husbands and sons returned no more.
A hasty meal was then prepared and set before the Indians in wooden platters and gourds, and as soon as this was cleared away by the attendant squaws, a fire was lit and the braves seated themselves in a circle and waited solemnly for the passing round of the peace-pipe and the council that was to follow. A feeling of reverence and awe seemed to pervade the very atmosphere, and the paleface youths became not a little uneasy, wondering what important event was about to happen next.
The two strangers had caused no little curiosity by their presence, especially amongst the squaws and striplings, but so far no one had addressed them personally. Evidently they were all waiting for some explanation as to why these two palefaces returned home with the braves and were not treated as prisoners. Their curiosity was soon to be satisfied.
A low murmur of voices ran around the council fire, and as if by instinct the braves rose to their feet, and in one place the serried ranks opened to admit a very aged chief, who came from one of the lodges near the "painted post" and slowly made his way to the assembly. He was accompanied by several other aged chiefs, but none amongst them looked so wise or even so old, by a generation at least, as the Sagamore, who now toiled painfully across the ground.
His form had once been straight like the fir-tree, but it was now bent, and he leaned heavily on his staff. His face was covered with wrinkles, and his white locks carried the snows of more than a hundred winters. Not till this aged chief had taken his seat at the post of honour amongst the chiefs that formed the front circle did the Indians deign to follow his example.
Then the sacred pipe, the calumet, was lit and solemnly passed from mouth to mouth, and amid a silence that could almost be felt, the blue smoke curled upwards around the fire and scented the still air of the early evening.