THERE was peace in the land of the Senecas. The red men were away upon the chase, or busied themselves in fashioning the arrow-points and in shaping the mighty bows from which the shafts of death were sent forth when food was needed in the wigwam. The Indian women stooped among the blades of growing corn and tilled the soil between the thrifty stalks with sharp-pointed branches from the strong young hickory. The children ran and leaped in the sunshine and their laughter filled the air and mingled with the low, crooning songs of the old men and women who watched them, while dreams of their youth rose like phantoms from the past. Under the fresh verdure of a new-born summer, groups of the young men and maidens were plaiting the soft and flexible willows into baskets, mats and coverings. Abroad on the hills the medicine men roamed, marking the places where the prized and cherished herbs that drove away the bad spirits of suffering and sickness had put forth their vigorous shoots.
There was peace in the land of the Senecas, and for many moons they had waged no war against their brothers. Their villages were growing in strength; their numbers were increasing in greatness. The young men were taught to follow the chase, but their ears had drunk the stones of wars, and their hearts burned to be upon the trail, seeking conquest over the powerful tribes of the Mohawks, Onondagas or Oneidas. When the soft winds came, some of them said to their elders, "We will go into the country of the Mohawks and learn from our brothers there if the Manito gave them corn for the winter, and if the venison was sweet to their tongues."
Five suns they threaded the forests and sported along the pleasant streams. At last they came upon some young men and maidens of the Mohawk nation engaged in preparing the ground for the maize. Forgetting the counsels of their elders, or heedless of what they had said to them, and eager to show their cunning, they surprised and bound the young Mohawks and carried them away as captives toward the land of the Senecas.
When they had passed the homes of the Onondagas, which they did without discovery, they released one of the young men and told him to go back to the Mohawks and say to them that they would find their maidens in the wigwams of the Senecas, their young men slaves in the villages.
The wise men and sachems of the council shook, their heads gravely when the young warriors boasted of their conquest, for they knew that the peace of the Senecas was broken.
A few days had passed, when, one evening as the fires began to cast their red lights against the rough sides of the great trees, five Mohawk warriors appeared at the council village of the Senecas.
"Let the swift runners say to the chiefs of the Senecas that the warriors of the Mohawks have been long upon the trail and must not sleep. By the light of the council-fire they would tell the message that is sweet to the tongues of the Mohawks but which will burn the ears of the Senecas who listen." Thus spoke Orontadeka, the strong chief of the Mohawks, as he strode to the council-place of the Senecas, followed by the four solemn and determined sachems who accompanied him on the mission. They at once took seats upon the ground and in silence awaited the coming of the Senecas.
Soon the fire-keepers of the tribe came to the council-place, and with due ceremony started three fires. When the last was lighted, the Seneca chiefs, sachems and warriors took their stations in silence around the blazing resinous wood. Dark forms hurried from the well-beaten paths which led through the forest to the different villages of the Senecas, and, without a word or sign of recognition, the warriors who had been notified by the swift runners and had come from their distant homes, took their places by the council-fire. At length, when all had assembled, the Seneca chief, Kanyego, arose and said:
"Will the great chiefs of the Mohawks eat?"