“There are children to-day in our lodges who can remember the Big Buffalo, who can remember our adopted son who shared our fires and food, who shared our hunts, who lived with us as freely as an Onondaga. We saw him every day, and we forgot that his heart was as white as his skin, for his tongue was the tongue of an Onondaga. We forgot that the white man has two tongues. It has not been long, my brothers,––not long enough for an Onondaga to forget. But the Big Buffalo is a mangy dog. He forgot the brothers of his lodge. He it was who took the Onondaga hunters and carried them away to be slaves. But the Manitou did not forget. He has put this Big Buffalo into our hands, that we may give him what should be given to the dog who forgets his master.”
Again the Long Arrow paused.
“No; this is not the time to speak of corn. It is not the Senecas who call us, it is our brothers and their squaws and children. The 252 Iroquois have been the greatest warriors of the world. They have driven the Hurons to the far northern forests; the Illinois to the Father of Waters, two moons’ travel to the west; the Delawares to the waters of the south. They have told the white man to stay within his boundaries, and he has stayed. They have been kind to the white man; they have welcomed the holy Fathers into their villages. But now the Great Mountain makes slaves of the Onondagas. He brings his warriors across the Great Lake to punish the Senecas and destroy their lodges. Shall the Long House of the Five Nations turn a white face to this Great Mountain? Shall the Long House call out in a shaking voice, ‘See, Onontio, there are no heads on our arrows, no flints in our muskets! our hatchets are dull, our knives nicked and rusted! come, Onontio, and strike us, that we may know you are our master and our father’?”
The Long Arrow’s voice had risen only slightly, but now it dropped; he went on, in a tone that was keen as a knife, but so low that those at the farther end of the house leaned forward and sat motionless.
“It has been said to-day to the Long House 253 that we shall close our ears to the thunder of the Great Mountain, that we should think of our corn and our squaws, and leave the Senecas to fight their own battles. But the Long House will not do this. The Long House will not give up the liberty that has been the pride of the Iroquois since first the rivers ran to the lake, and the moss grew on the trees, and the wind waved the tops of the long grass. The Great Mountain has come to take this liberty. He shall not have it. No; he shall lose his own––we will leave his bones to dry where the Seneca dogs run loose. The Big Buffalo shall die to tell the white man that the Iroquois never forgets; the Great Mountain shall die to tell the white man that the Iroquois is free.”
CHAPTER XIII.
THE VOICE OF THE GREAT MOUNTAIN.
There was no lack of interest now in the council. The weariness left the maid’s eyes as she followed the speeches that came in rapid succession. There was still the disagreement, the confusion of a dozen different views and demands; but the speech of the Long Arrow had pointed the discussion, it had set up an opinion to be either defended or attacked.