The Road to Frontenac

by Samuel Merwin

“My brother must think quickly, for the time is short. All that I promise he will have, if he will be a friend to the Big Buffalo. And every Onondaga knows that the word of the Big Buffalo is a word that has never been broken. My brother will be a friend. He will watch close, and to-night, when the dark has come, he will let his knife touch the thongs that hold the White Chief captive.”

The Indian’s face was without expression. 309 Menard watched him closely, but could not tell whether his offer was taking effect. What he had no means of knowing was that since the battle at the hut, and the short fight in the council-house, the younger braves had centred their superstitions on him. It was thought that his body was occupied by some bad spirit that gave him the strength of five men, and that he had been sent to their village by a devil to lure the warriors into the hands of the French. These were not the open views that would have been heard at a council; they were the fears of the untried warriors, who had not the vision to understand the diplomacy of the chiefs, nor the position in the village to give them a public hearing. They had talked together in low tones, feeding the common fear, until a few words from the Long Arrow had aroused them into action. And so this guard was between two emotions: the one a lust for wealth and position in the tribe, common to every Indian and in most cases a stronger motive than any of the nobler sentiments; the other an unreasoning fear of this “bad doctor,” the fear that to aid him or to accept furs from him would poison the ears of his own Oki, and destroy his chance of a name and wealth during 310 his life, and of a long, glorious hunt after death.

“My brother shall come with me to the land of the white men, where there is no trouble,––where he shall have a great lodge like the white chiefs, with coloured pictures in gold frames, and slaves to prepare his food. He shall be a great chief among white men and redmen, and his stores shall be filled to the doors with furs of beaver and seal.”

Menard’s voice was so low and deliberate that the Indian did not question his statements. He was tempted more strongly than he had ever been tempted before, but with the desire grew the fear of the consequences. As for the Captain, he was clutching desperately at this slender chance that lay to his hand.

“I have given my brother his choice of greater power than was ever before offered to a youth who has yet to win his name. The stroke of a knife will do it. No one shall know, for the Big Buffalo can be trusted. My brother has it before him to be a red chief or a white chief, as he may wish. The warriors are near,––the day grows bright; he must speak quickly.”

There was a call from the group by the fire, 311 and the young Indian gave a little start, and slowly rising, walked away, yielding his place as guard to an older man. Menard rolled over and pressed his face to the ground as if weary; he could then watch the youth through the grass as he moved to the fire, but in a moment he lost sight of him. The new guard was a stern-faced brave, and his appearance promised no help; so the Captain, having done all that could be done at the moment, tried to get another sleep, struggling to put thoughts of the maid from his mind. Perhaps, after all, she was safe at the village.

Meantime the youth, after a long struggle with the temptings of the bad doctor, yielded to his superstition, and sought the Long Arrow, who lay on the green bank of the stream. In a few moments the story was told, and the chief, with a calm face but with twinkling eyes, came to the prisoner and stood looking down at him.

“The White Chief is glad to be with his Onondaga brothers?” he said in his quiet voice.

Menard slowly raised his eyes, and looked coolly at the chief without replying.

“The tongue of the Big Buffalo is weary perhaps? 312 It has moved so many times to tell the Onondaga what is not true, that now it asks for rest. The Long Arrow is kind. He will not seek to move it again. For another sleep it shall lie at rest; then it may be that our braves shall find a way to stir it.”