We need not follow our nimble scout on his homeward way, a journey performed with far greater celerity than when he followed the footsteps of Acashee. Green meadows and mountain hights were left behind him, and with foot swift as that of the wild stag, and knowing as little of fatigue, he in due time reached the Casco Bay. Here he found a canoe secreted or deserted, which he took without scruple and launched fearlessly across the water, the long strokes of the paddle showing him fresh as the day on which he started upon his adventures.
No sooner was it known that he had returned, than the council-fire was lighted, the pipe passed round in token of good, for the calumet was as indicative of loyalty and secrecy in the eye of the savage, as was the rose to the classical world.
The young scout told his story in a few brief, frank words, to which the sagamore listened in silence. He had been confident of learning something of the fate of Hope Vines, through this return of Acashee to her people, and now he seemed doomed to disappointment. He had, in spite of himself, dwelt upon the words of the wizard, “Go to the east,” and he felt that there he should learn of the fate of Hope Vines. When the scout at length told of the mysterious disappearance of the woman at the foot of the falls, and the no less mysterious appearance of the old man, his interest revived. He waited the conclusion of the recital, and looked around for the comments of the older chiefs.
All eyes were fixed upon War-ra-was-ky—a chief who had numbered nearly a hundred years, and who was scarred by many a hard-contested battle, renowned also for his great wisdom. Rising slowly to his feet, and resting heavily upon his war-club, the old Nestor thus spoke.
“The words of the young brave awaken a memory that has long slept in the caves of the past. Listen, my brothers!
“The Great Spirit, mindful of his children, has filled their hunting-grounds with secret places, where they may hide themselves when the black cloud descends, and the air is ringing with hurtling clubs and lightning arrow-heads.
“Listen! In my youth, ere the moss of a century had converted the sapling into a gnarled and withered tree, our tribes held power over the Androscoggins. We demanded tribute of them, which they refused to pay. We burned their wigwams, slew their braves in battle, and chased them from their oldhunting-grounds. At length they made alliance with the Kennebecs and Penobscots, and we in turn showed the sole of the foot in place of the white of the eye.”
The war-club of the warrior smote the ground, and his arm shook with rage as he recalled this hour of defeat.
“Listen! We rallied again; we burned the village of the Androscoggins, at the top of the Pejipscot, where the great waters pour themselves in one continuous flood, as the young brave has described. The women sprung with their children into the boiling waters beneath. The warriors, few in number, stood on the rocks below.
“Listen! One by one the warriors were gone. We shot our arrows into their midst, but the rocks above impeded their flight, and there stood the band beneath in one solid mass, and yet their numbers became less, till all were gone but a youth, who had all the while stood in front amidst the spray.
“Listen! He stood there and sung the song of the warrior; he spread his arms, as if he embraced the waters, and we saw his body dashed from, rock to rock, till it was lost in the gulf below.”
A murmur ran through the assemblage; the old man bowed his head in homage of the dauntless dead, and went on:
“Listen! I waited suns and moons around Pejipscot; my eyes never lost sight of the spot at which the warriors disappeared. At length one morning, just as the sun tipped the tops of the ancient pines with fire, I saw a warrior issue from the spray. He cast an eager glance to the sky, and earth, and water, and before I could save him, he too plunged himself adown the cataract.
“Listen! A Saco chief is tireless. I waited and watched till, one by one, the Androscoggins, thin and powerless, showed themselves amid the spray, and were lost in the flood below.”
The Sagamore of Saco arose to his feet, as the old chief ceased to speak.
“There is a chamber under the falls, my father, is there not?”
“Thou hast well divined, my son! And there the squawmen who fear the war-club and the arrow, hide their wolfish bones.”
“The Androscoggins have joined the Terrentines and Kennebecs, and will descend upon the Sacos with all their power. Let us not wait their coming. Ere the moon is full, we will spring upon their path like the panther upon his prey.”
The younger chiefs rose to their feet, and responded by twanging their bow-strings in token of defiance.
“We will avenge the blood of our warriors; we will reassert our power over the Androscoggins.”
Such were the words of the young braves.
It was decided, as at one voice, to anticipate the warlikedesigns of the eastern tribes, and carry the war, as of old, to the ancient battlefields of the Androscoggins. The scout was in possession of all their plans; they would feast their warriors upon the banks of the Saco, and winter at the Pool, where Indian and white man were alike to fall in one exterminating blow.
The more cautious chiefs proposed calling upon the colonists to aid in the expedition, but this was overruled by the sagamore, who declared the red-man able to carry on his own wars, and strike without aid for their old council-fires, their altars and their homes.
This audacity pleased the majority, which determined that the expedition should start upon the third day. They would descend the Saco—cross Casco Bay to the Kennebec, which river they would ascend till it receives the Androscoggin, and thence up the latter river till the Falls of the Pejipscot (Lewiston) should be reached—thus performing the entire route by water.
It was determined that two hundred picked warriors, headed by the sagamore, would be sufficient to effect the surprise and discomfiture of the eastern alliance, which had proposed to wait till the hunting season was finished before they started upon their warlike expedition. But the Sacos boasted that the grass never grew in the trail of their warriors, and now, headed by their brave and untiring sagamore, they were confident of success.
But, before the tribe started upon this perilous enterprise, according to their wont they consulted the prophet of the Sacos, to learn the tokens of the invisible powers, for an Indian, no more than an ancient Roman, would not impiously expose the public interests of the tribe without first learning if the gods approved.
Accordingly, the chief men resorted to his wigwam; they laid the choicest venison, fish and corn at his threshold; then they lighted a fire upon a rock near by, and having laid beside it an arrow pointing eastward, and a canoe with the paddles pointing in the same direction, they seated themselves in silence upon the ground.
It was not long before the wizard appeared, with signs of exultation. Seizing the arrow, he hurled it into the air, and seemed to urge the canoe onward; he shouted in a high key words like the following:
“High on this rock the bold eagle is screaming,Safe in his wigwam the warrior is dreaming.There’s a cry from the hill-top—a cry from the plain.A shriek from the dauntless that come never again.Up, up to the battle, but never a blow!Up, up to the battle, but never a foe!”
“High on this rock the bold eagle is screaming,Safe in his wigwam the warrior is dreaming.There’s a cry from the hill-top—a cry from the plain.A shriek from the dauntless that come never again.Up, up to the battle, but never a blow!Up, up to the battle, but never a foe!”
“High on this rock the bold eagle is screaming,Safe in his wigwam the warrior is dreaming.There’s a cry from the hill-top—a cry from the plain.A shriek from the dauntless that come never again.Up, up to the battle, but never a blow!Up, up to the battle, but never a foe!”
“High on this rock the bold eagle is screaming,
Safe in his wigwam the warrior is dreaming.
There’s a cry from the hill-top—a cry from the plain.
A shriek from the dauntless that come never again.
Up, up to the battle, but never a blow!
Up, up to the battle, but never a foe!”
The chiefs exchanged looks of doubt and surprise. The more cautious would have forced him again before them, but thesagamore declared the omens were for good, and directed to start upon their way. At once the two hundred were to be seen threading their way to the river-side, where the canoes were manned. Here we must leave them, now hugging the shore to avoid observation, and now boldly breasting the waters of the stormy sea. Headlands were crossed, not doubled, the warriors shouldering the canoes at “carrying-places,” which greatly abridged the distance, the hazards, and the labors of the way.