"Seize her, Murray," he panted in French. "She is insane."
But she closed with him, and the two knives sank home at the same instant. Hers pierced de Veulle to the heart. His drove to the hilt into her right breast, and she staggered back, coughing blood, against the rigid form of Ta-wan-ne-ars, bound fast to the stake.
"Ga-ha-no—was not—worthy of—Ta-wan-ne-ars," she gasped as her head slipped down his chest. "It—is—better—so."
No torture could have distorted his face into the image of frenzied despair which it displayed as he strove uselessly to bend down to her.
"My Lost Soul!" he muttered. "Oh, Ha-wen-ne-yu, my Lost Soul! Oh, Great Spirit, my Lost Soul!"
Marjory crept nearer to me, the horror in her face turning to pity, the tears streaming from her eyes.
"The poor lass!" she cried softly. "The poor, brave lass!"
The silence of consternation gripped the hordes of the Keepers of the Trail. The sea of painted, scowling faces exhibited one frozen expression of awe at the suddenness of the tragedy. Only Murray gave no indication of feeling as he knelt by de Veulle's side.
"Where is Black Robe?" I whispered to Marjory, shivering on my shoulder.
"He went away last night. There was a call from Ga-o-no-geh, a village down the Trail. I think he was tricked."
"Would he——"
Murray stood up, wiping a spot of blood off one of his hands with a laced handkerchief.
"He is gone," he remarked impartially. "'Twas no more than to be expected. A man can not mix politics with women—especially uncivilized women."
"Give a look to the Indian girl," I urged.
He shrugged his shoulders as if to say it was not worth while; but Marjory stooped over Ga-ha-no, composed the disordered black tresses and closed the wildly staring eyes.
"'Tis useless, Harry," she said. "She is dead."
"Ga-ha-no—is—dead!" repeated Ta-wan-ne-ars blankly.
His heaving muscles relaxed, and he hung limp in his bonds against the stake.
"At the least, the woman gave you an avenue of escape from an intricate problem," commented Murray. "You do not seem glad, my dear."
"I am not glad," retorted Marjory scornfully. "And I am right content that you should be unable to understand why I will be mourning for her."
"Ah, well, we have never understood each other, have we?" rejoined Murray, taking snuff absent-mindedly. "Come, we will give orders for the removal of the unfortunate pair, and——"
The horror dawned once more in Marjory's face.
"And what!" she gasped.
"You forget, Marjory, that my savage henchmen have work to do," he answered nonchalantly. "I take it for granted that you do not wish to remain and view their labors?"
"You—you would——"
Emotion shocked her; but she fought for her self-control.
"You would leave these—these men—Master Ormerod—to—to——"
"And why not!" he replied. "They are enemies. As I have had occasion to tell him ere this, Master Ormerod has sought to contrive my ruin. Why should I spare him?"
"You know not the meaning of humanity, then!" she cried, anger striving with terror for control of her voice.
"'Tis a word which has divers meanings," he said. "But I am a reasonable man. I am always willing to discuss terms."
"And what might you mean by terms?" I demanded, taking a hand in the conversation.
He deliberated as unconcernedly as if we sat on opposite sides of a table in London, entirely ignoring the huddled corpses at his feet, the line of bodies stiffening in the bitter cold against the stakes and the attendant cordon of Indians whose faces studied his as their fingers itched to resume the torture.
"An undertaking to abandon this wholly barren persecution of my enterprises," he decided. "I should require the signature of Governor Burnet to the document."
"And my companions here?" I asked curiously.
"You forget that even my powers are necessarily limited," he said. "I could not possibly snatch from my people's vengeance Iroquois warriors taken red-handed in an attempt to massacre them."
I laughed.
"You do not yet know me, Murray."
"Possibly you are subject to education," he retorted, buttoning up his greatcoat. "Come, Marjory."
She drew away from him.
"I choose to remain," she said coldly.
"I choose that you shall not."
He waved his hand in unmistakable signal of release to the watchful False Faces and their followers. A yell of satisfaction swelled from their hungry throats, and they dashed forward. Indeed, so violent was their reaction from the restraint just imposed upon them that in the first mad rush a number of the younger men were carried beyond control of the evil priests and commenced to butcher the Senecas outright with knife and tomahawk.
Marjory shrank back and covered her eyes with her hands as a feather-tufted warrior ran up to Ta-wan-ne-ars and dangled a freshly severed scalp in his face.
"'Twill be difficult for me to control them at all in a few moments," observed Murray.
"Oh, you vile coward!" exclaimed Marjory, her own courage now regained. "I am steeped in shame whenever I remember that I have in my veins blood that is akin to yours."
"You are unreasonable, my mistress," he remonstrated. "I am giving the young man a chance for his life."
He addressed me directly.
"You will bear me out, Master Ormerod, that I warned you life on the frontier was not pretty. We who deal with savages must employ measures designed to strike their imaginations. We can not be overdainty. We——"
He looked up in amazement, as a mantle of silence enveloped the Council-Place for the second time.
"O my people," boomed a harsh voice in the Cahnuaga dialect, "verily Ha-ne-go-ate-geh has claimed you! You are mad! You toy with your enemies here when the warriors of the Long House are as thick along the Doom Trail as the falling leaves of Autumn. The Keepers who were on watch are dead or in flight. At any minute the Iroquois will be here. They have burned Ga-o-no-geh. The snow of the Trail is trampled flat by their multitudes. Aye, the Doom Trail is bringing doom upon its Keepers."
The tall, severe figure of Black Robe pushed through the surrounding masses of renegades until he had reached Marjory's side.
"What have they done to you, my daughter?" he asked kindly, his tone changing as if by magic. "I was led away by a false story."
She pointed down at the corpses of Ga-ha-no and de Veulle. Père Hyacinthe made the sign of the cross and muttered a brief prayer.
"Providence works mysteriously," he sighed. "Once I trusted this man—" and he swung around with stern hostility upon Murray—"and this one here. Now I think I know them for what they were, servants of evil who employed the force of God's holy Word in the furtherance of their own wicked plans.
"France is great, my daughter. France has a destiny before her. But her greatness and her destiny may not be reached through by-paths of sin and evil-doing."
He would have said more, but Murray intervened.
"I will answer your personal comments at a future time, sir," he said; "but do I understand you to say that the Doom Trail has been penetrated by the Iroquois?"
"They are almost at your door," replied Black Robe sternly.
"'Sdeath!" swore Murray. "This is too much!"
He raised his voice in a shout.
"To your arms, O Keepers of the Trail! The Iroquois are upon us!"
But his words were drowned in a racket of firing from the heart of the Evil Wood. A number of the False Faces emerged from the shelter of the firs, their awful masks wabbling unsteadily.
"The People of the Long House!" they wailed. "The People of the Long House are come!"
"We are attacked back and front," snarled Murray. "Well, Master Ormerod, you and your friend the chief are excellent hostages."
He bellowed a series of commands which brought some degree of order out of the confusion, and dispatched one party of Keepers into the Wood to resist the attack from that quarter. Another body he sent through the village to hold the approaches of the Doom Trail. Under his directions the remainder of the warriors unbound the surviving prisoners from the stakes and escorted us to the stockaded house in which he dwelt.
As we passed the chapel we saw Black Robe standing in the doorway. His eyes were fixed upon the heavens.
"You were a chosen people!" he cried. "You were the few selected from the many! The Word of God was brought to you, and you saw the light—or said you did. Your feet were set upon the narrow way. A great work was given you to do.
"But you wandered far afield, back into unexplored realms of the ancient wickedness of your race. You became devil-worshipers in secret; aye, eaters of human flesh. You lived a life of deceit. You became tools of Ha-ne-go-ate-geh.
"Great was your fall, and great will be your punishment therefor. You will be torn up, root and branch. You will be banished from your villages and exiled to a strange country. Your warriors will die under the tomahawk, your children will be reared by your enemies. You will perish, O Keepers of the Trail! Your end is——"
Cowering under the whip-lashes of his words, the Keepers hurried by the chapel, and ran us inside the stockade. In the doorway they paused to await the coming of Murray. He arrived presently, with Marjory hanging unwillingly on his arm.
"The prisoners?" he rasped in answer to the question of our guards. "Take them to the cellar. Look to their security if you value your lives."
An echo of distant shouts reached our ears as we stood there, and across the posts of the stockade we saw the Keepers streaming from the Evil Wood and at their heels certain darting, quick-moving figures that we knew must be the warriors of the Eight Clans.
"It is time to bring our women and children inside the stockade," proposed one of the Cahnuagas.
Murray shook his head.
"We have not room nor food to spare," he refused with iron determination.
Discontent showed in the faces of the Keepers, for even these fiends knew the instinct of domestic affection; but Murray cut off attempts at protestation.
"See," he said, as the sound of firing came from the southward, "we are surrounded. We are ignorant of the strength of the Iroquois. It may be all we can do to defend ourselves. Women and children would be so many inconveniences to us."
And whilst a squad of savages conducted us to our prison the rest manned the firing-platforms around the stockade and prepared to cover the retreat of the Keepers, who were falling back rapidly before the hard-driving attacks of the Iroquois.
I sought for a word with Marjory as we entered the door, but Murray deliberately strode between us. All I gained was a glance from her eyes that bade me be strong and confident. And I needed all the strength and confidence I could obtain during that dreadful afternoon and night in the cellar, with the shouts of the opposing sides and the discharges of their muskets the sole tidings to reach us of what went on above.
Ta-wan-ne-ars sat with his back to a wall, his eyes fixed on vacancy, his lips murmuring at intervals Ga-ha-no's name. I tried to interest him in what went on without success. He looked at me, and turned his eyes away.
In desperation I struggled with two of our eight surviving comrades to untie our bonds, and after hours of trial we succeeded and released the others. This permitted me to pay attention to those who had been injured. One had a broken shoulder, the result of a blow from a war-club the night we were captured. One had been partially scalped at the stake, and three had been hacked and cut in the preliminary stages of torture.
We slept little that night, for we were very cold and we had no food. But in the morning the Keepers thrust a pan of corn-mush within the door and we ate it to the last kernel. I forced a portion upon Ta-wan-ne-ars, feeding him with a stick we found on the floor.
After that we slept for several hours, and then a lanthorn gleamed on the stairs and Murray stepped into our midst, an immaculate periwig on his head, his linen spotless, his brown cloth suit as fresh as if direct from the tailor's hands.
He set the lanthorn on the dirt floor and stood beside it.
"A good morrow to you, Master Ormerod," he began. "I have come to hold counsel with you."
"'Tis more than kind," I observed sarcastically.
"Nay, 'tis no more than a proposition of business," he returned coolly. "Look you, my friend, we each of us have that which the other wants. In such a case sensible men come to terms."
"If I remember rightly you were speaking of terms only yesterday," I said dryly.
"True, and naturally I was not then disposed to yield you much."
"I would not trust you now on any terms," I said flatly.
"Tut, tut, sir. Is that language for one gentleman to employ to another?"
"You are not a gentleman, sir; you are——"
He glowered.
"Have a care, sir," he warned.
"You are a scoundrel," I finished.
He made a gesture of magnificent disdain.
"Let it pass, let it pass. Your opinion, Master Ormerod, is of little moment to me. What I seek is an accommodation of our mutual desires."
"As how?"
He pursed his lips.
"Look you, Master Ormerod," he replied, "I have you fast here. I have also the chief, your friend. I have in addition one you love."
"Before you proceed further," I interrupted, "I wish you to answer me one question: Whose child is she!"
He hesitated, and regarded me sidewise.
"Oh, well," he said after a moment, "it might as well out now as later. She'd tell you herself, I suppose. The maid is the child of my sister."
"And her name!"
"She is a Kerr of Fernieside," he answered pompously. "I should add, sir, that I have been at particular pains with the girl, having an especial affection for her."
"Oh," I murmured politely. "An especial affection!"
"Even so."
He bowed elegantly.
"I have treated her as my own daughter. Her father was lost in the '15, and since then, seeing that her mother was dead, I have made her my charge. She hath been well educated in a dame's school in Edinburgh."
"Well, of that we will say no more," I said. "I find it unpleasant to hear you talk of her."
He frowned, but made no reply.
"You consider us as hostages, then?" I continued.
"Yes. I might as well admit to you that I am surrounded here. The Iroquois have sent out the largest war-party ever I saw."
"You are helpless, but you attempt to impose terms," I said.
"Pardon me, sir; I am not helpless," he objected. "If the worst comes to the worst I shall give intelligence to my opponents of my intent to blow up my house and my hostages and undertake to fight a way through the Iroquois. Better a death in such fashion than captivity and disgrace, let alone the torture-stake."
I considered this, and gauged him as capable of doing all that he said.
"Yes," I assented finally; "being what you are, you have advantages on your side. What are your terms?"
"A safe-conduct for me and my people to Canada."
"So that you may restore your trade again?"
A look of sorrow fitted over his face.
"I can not restore it, Master Ormerod. That fact is indisputable. My one hold upon public opinion was my success and the power it gave me. Let me fail and lose my power, and my influence is dead."
"Yes," I agreed; "that is true."
"Moreover," he went on, "my savages are killed or scattered. My organization is gone. My most valuable servants are slain."
"And Mistress Marjory?"
He regarded me oddly.
"Do you care to sue for her hand?" he parried.
"I shall wed her, if she pleases," I responded; "but I do assure you, sir, I have no intent to approach you in the matter."
"You make a grave mistake then. I should like to settle upon her a jointure proportionate to her birth and heritage."
My first sensation of amusement was turned to ridicule.
"Murray," I said, "you seem not to understand that honest men and women want nothing of your bloody, ill-gotten money. I know that Mistress Marjory will uphold me in this. All we ask of you is that you should disappear, erase yourself."
He flushed, but had himself in hand immediately.
"You have insulted me more than enough, sir," he said with dignity. "Let us end this interview. Are you prepared to go outside the stockade and secure consent to the terms we have discussed, giving your word of honor to return here afterwards?"
I bowed.
"I will do so, but first permit me to acquaint my companions."
And as rapidly as I could I informed the Senecas of the upshot of our talk. All heard it with relief, save Ta-wan-ne-ars. His sombre eyes looked through and beyond me.
"My Lost Soul!" was his response. "I must seek my Lost Soul, brother!"
"In time," I assured him gently. "Do you bide here and await me, and presently you shall go hence and seek her if you wish."
"Qua, O-te-ti-an-i!"
Do-ne-ho-ga-weh's right arm was lifted in the salute. The little group of Indians standing at his side on the fringe of the woods overlooking the smoking ruins of La Vierge du Bois repeated the greeting. Corlaer, his broad face with its insignificant, haphazard features shining with emotion, grasped my hand and wrung it heartily.
"You hafe der lifes of a cat, my friendt!" he exclaimed. "We hafe foundt der torture stakes with der bodies of some of your party andt——"
He paused and glanced at Do-ne-ho-ga-weh. The Guardian of the Western Door drew himself up proudly.
"Ga-ha-no did wrong," he said, "but she died as became the daughter of aroy-an-ehof the Long House."
"She died like a warrior," I replied.
"O-te-ti-an-i makes the heart of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh very glad," acknowledged theroy-an-eh. "Can he still my fears for my nephew?"
"Ta-wan-ne-ars fought like a chief," I answered. "But his heart was made very sad by the death of Ga-ha-no and his mind has wandered from him for a space."
"It will return," affirmed Do-ne-ho-ga-weh. "Now tell us, O my white son, do you come hither as a captive or a conqueror?"
"I come to offer the terms of Murray; but first tell me how successful you have been, so that I may know whether I should advise acceptance of what he offers."
Do-ne-ho-ga-weh swept his arm around the horizon.
"Everywhere you see ashes and destruction," he replied. "The Keepers of the Trail are dead or imprisoned in Murray's stockade. Their women and children are our prisoners. Our belts can scarcely support the loads of scalps we have taken. We have swept the Doom Trail."
A new figure stepped forward—modestly, as became a young warrior in the company ofroy-an-ehsand chiefs. 'Twas the Otter. He too saluted me.
"We thought that you escaped the ambush," I said. "You did well. Great will be the fame of the Otter."
He selected two from a bundle of scalps at his belt and held them aloft.
"Two pursued the Otter when he ran from the Evil Wood," he boasted. "But none returned to tell the way he took. The Otter hastened day and night, O my white brother, O-te-ti-an-i, hoping he might bring warriors to rescue you from the Keepers."
"The Otter did well," I repeated. "Had it not been for him, Murray might have been able to flee to Canada. As it is, the warriors of the Long House have surrounded him. He wishes only to save his life. Harken to the terms he offers."
They listened without comment to Murray's proposition.
"But we have a hostage, also," objected Do-ne-ho-ga-weh when I had finished. "We have been holding him for the torture-stake. Perhaps Murray will be willing to accept less when he learns that we have taken Black Robe."
"No, Black Robe means nothing to Murray," I said.
And I described the clash between the two rulers of La Vierge du Bois over the wedding of Marjory.
"It does not matter," commented Do-ne-ho-ga-weh. "Black Robe is our enemy, and we will torture him to avenge our warriors who have perished here at the stake."
"No, no," I objected. "You must let him go. The Great Spirit has set his seal upon him. Twice before this he has been tortured, yet he still lives."
"The third time may be the last," insisted Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, and the other chiefs murmured agreement with him.
"Will my father yield the life of Black Robe to me as a special gift?" I tried again. "He befriended the maiden I hope to marry. I should like to set him free."
They consulted together, and Corlaer urged my cause. In the end Do-ne-ho-ga-weh assented because, he said, I had brought good luck to the Long House and this was the first favor I had requested.
"And now," he concluded, "take back this message to Murray, my white son. Tell him that he is to surrender his house as it stands, with all it contains. Tell him that he is to give up to us the maiden he calls his daughter, whom you desire to wed. Tell him that he is to send forth the prisoners he has taken. Tell him that he is to render up all the arms he has in his possession.
"And then he and those of the Keepers of the Trail who are left to him shall march out, and the People of the Long House will escort them to Jaraga, where they shall be handed over to Joncaire to dispose of as pleases Onontio and the French.
"Na-ho!"
I said good-bye to them, and tramped back across the clearing to the stockade above which waved a white napkin fastened to a ramrod. Murray awaited me just within the gate. The Keepers, in their fantastic feather headdresses, crouched on the firing-platform and peered down at us fearfully. Splotches of blood in the dirty snow showed where several of them had been killed by the plunging fire of the Iroquois from the trees which rimmed the clearing.
Murray heard my report in silence, and cast his eye over the surrounding scene before replying.
"It shall be done," he said at last. "Was ever a man so sorely tried by fate? Zooks! 'twill cost me a pretty penny and no slight effort to recoup my fortunes."
I regarded him with amazement.
"Do you think to be tolerated hereabouts in the future?" I asked.
"Hereabouts! It may be so; it may not be," he answered musingly. "But my star is no ordinary star, Master Ormerod. And despite my demerits, which seem to have impressed you unduly, if you will allow me to say so, I am not entirely without certain capacities which are valuable in adversity."
"The devil looks out for his own!" I ejaculated rudely.
"Needs must, if the devil drives," he countered. "Ah, well, we are simply headed toward another fruitless bicker. You are strangely burdened by that animus which the clergy dub conscience. Your judgment is biased."
"Where you are concerned."
"I fear so," he deplored. "Let us set a term to this debate. Does our treaty go into effect at once?"
"Yes."
"So be it. I will give orders to have your friends conducted here."
The battered remnants of our war-party appeared with Ta-wan-ne-ars walking in the lead, his face once more a study in impassive rigor.
"Murray says we are free, brother," he said, stepping to my side.
"It is true."
The sadness shone momentarily in his eyes.
"I have had a bad dream, brother," he went on.
"'Twas no dream," I cried. "Do not doubt your sorrow, Ta-wan-ne-ars. It was——"
"It was a dream," he answered steadily. "My Lost Soul is redeemed by Ha-wen-ne-yu and is gone on before me for a visit to Ata-ent-sic. But in a little time, when I am rested, I shall go after her and fetch her back to dwell happily with me in my lodge."
"But how can you, a mortal, journey into the hereafter?" I protested.
"Did I not tell you an old tale of my people of a warrior who ventured to the Land of Lost Souls? O my brother, the Great Spirit is generous. He recognizes courage and true love. If I am daring of everything, surely he will stand my aid and help me into Ata-ent-sic's country."
"It can not be!"
"How shall we know it can not be until we have tried? Ta-wan-ne-ars will try."
I could say no more. Such simple faith was unanswerable. And I watched him, quietly directing the piling of the weapons of the Keepers and the unbarring of the gate in the stockade. I wondered how much of it was the unconscious working on a sensitive mind of the very Christianity he had rejected.
Marjory's voice recalled me to the present.
"Master Murray tells me he hath surrendered," she said.
I turned eagerly to find her at my side. My hands leaped out for hers, and she yielded them without hesitation, her brave eyes beaming love and comradeship unashamed.
"Yes, we are free, Marjory. Will you come with me——"
She caught my meaning, and made to pull away from me.
"But we will have had no wooing," she exclaimed, half between laughter and tears. "Sure, sir, you will not be expecting a maid to yield without suit?"
I would not let her go.
"Every minute that hath passed since I stepped into the main cabin of the New Venture to see the face of the mysterious songbird hath been a persistent suit," I declared.
"And you would really wed an unrelenting Jacobite?" she murmured.
"Whatever you are I love you, and as a reformed Jacobite I can see reasons for forgiving your contumacy."
Her face grew serious.
"As I told you once before—" she shuddered with the memory of the incident—"I have learned much since leaving Scotland. I know that you are no traitor and your beliefs are honorable and patriotic, and that Country means more than King. But, Harry, you will be overlooking the narrowness of a poor maid brought up in a Scots Jacobite household to consider the Stuart cause sacred—will you not?"
"So sweet a recantation!" sneered Murray at my elbow. "He will never be able resist you, my dear."
She withdrew so that I stood between her and her uncle.
"I have supported much from you, sir," she answered coldly; "in part through mistaken loyalty to the object you said you served; in part because, evil though you were, you were my flesh and blood. But from this day I disown you. I will be having naught to do with you. You mean nothing to me. You are a horrid specter I expel from my mind."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"'Tis a fitting reward for the loving care I gave you, Mistress Marjory. You are with me until my fortunes wane. Well, I am content. Henceforth Andrew Murray plays his own hand alone. Yet it suits me, my children, to annoy you to the extent of assuring you my blessing and good wishes.
"You are a fine, healthy maid, Marjory. As for Master Ormerod, he hath been a resourceful enemy, and as the first man to cry 'Checkmate!' against me I congratulate him."
Ta-wan-ne-ars tapped him on the shoulder and he swung around to meet the frowning gaze of the Seneca.
"You are a prisoner, Murray. Come with Ta-wan-ne-ars."
"'Sdeath, I was to have safe-conduct!"
"You are to go safely to Jagara—yes," I interposed; "but think not we will trust you at liberty."
He took snuff and dusted his lapels carefully.
"Have your way, noble Iroquois," he sighed. "A little while, and I shall be quit of you."
The warriors of the Long House came pouring through the gates of the stockade, and their war-whoops echoed over the forest as they commenced the work of looting Murray's establishment and securing their prisoners. As Marjory and I passed out of that sinister enclosure, which had seen so much of wickedness and human suffering, we had our last joint glimpse of Andrew Murray. The Otter was lashing his arms at his back, and on his face was a look of whimsical distaste.
"Farewell, my children," he called. "Bear in mind 'twas Andrew Murray brought you together. So good cometh out of evil."
Marjory shrank closer against my side.
"Yes," she said; "take me away from here. Let us go away, Harry—and forget."
But 'twas Corlaer, and not I, who escorted my lady to Albany and the tender care of Mistress Schuyler, into whose charge Governor Burnet most kindly commended her. For duty commanded me to discharge my obligation of removing Murray and his Cahnuagas—not many survived the castigation of the Iroquois—in safety to Jagara; and I must accompany Do-ne-ho-ga-weh and Ta-wan-ne-ars and the warriors of the Eight Clans in the triumphal procession which traversed the Long House from the Upper Mohawk Castle to the shores of the Thunder Waters as an illustration of the wrath of the Great League.
And I was not sorry that I did so, for it enabled me to sit beside Do-ne-ho-ga-weh and his brother chiefs in the half-finished stone fort at Jagara and hear him lay down the law of the Long House to Joncaire, as representative of the French.
"Qua, O Joncaire, mouthpiece of Onontio who rules at Quebec," he said. "We people of the Long House come to you in peace. And we give into your hands the white man Murray and those who are still alive of the Keepers of the Doom Trail. We promised that they should come here, and we have fulfilled our promise. But we have set a bar across the Doom Trail, O mouthpiece of Onontio, and we desire you to tell the French of that.
"If Onontio chooses, we will live in peace with him, and—" this was a crafty use of an advantage I had forced upon him—"in earnest of our friendship we have saved the life of the Frenchman called Black Robe, although he has been no friend of our people. But the Doom Trail is closed to red men and white men alike. We have obliterated it. We have set a bar across it.
"It is our wish that you should acquaint Onontio with our decision. We ask him to assist us in wiping out this source of trouble between us.
"Na-ho!"
"I have heard your message, Oroy-an-ehsand chiefs of the Long House," replied Joncaire. "I will repeat it to Onontio, but I do not think it will be welcome in his ears. As to the white man Murray, why do you bring him to me? He is English. You should carry him to the English at Albany."
"He asked to be brought to you," returned Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, and thus spiked an adroit attempt to shift the implied responsibility for Murray's enterprises in the past.
"Very well," said Joncaire. "You may leave him here. Do you enter any charge against him?"
"We might enter many charges against him," answered Do-ne-ho-ga-weh grimly. "But we pledged our word to bring him here in safety—and we have washed away the stains of his offenses in the blood of the Keepers of the Trail."
"He shall tell his story to Onontio," replied Joncaire, politely threatening. "I am pleased with your assurances of peacefulness. I have no more to say."
But as the Iroquois were leaving he buttonholed me in the sallyport.
"I know you, my lad from Arles," he said jocosely. "I knew you the minute I laid my eyes on you. You have played ducks and drakes with high policies in your few months on the frontier. I hope your people appreciate you."
I laughed and returned his compliment. He waxed serious.
"For myself I am not so sorry this has happened," he declared. "I'll fight the English any day—and beat them, too. But I like not this stealthy intriguing by crime, by perverting the poor savages, by downright cruelty and superstition. This fellow de Veulle, now——"
"He's dead," I interrupted.
"Ma foi, you seem to have made a clean sweep of it, Jean! You are a lad after my own heart. De Veulle, he was a bad one. He cast discredit on France. I am glad you disposed of him. Let us fight clean and win clean, I say. Do you tell that to your governor."
"I will," I promised, laughing.
"You haven't a chance, you know," continued Joncaire gravely. "Not a chance."
"It seems to me you once told me at some length of the importance of the fur-trade," I suggested.
"Peste! Did I? Well, it has its place, lad. But if you have rooted out that excrescence at La Vierge du Bois we have a tight little fortalice here at Jagara. 'Twill serve, 'twill serve. And you English have no imagination. Once in a while you get a good man—Burnet for example. But you do not trust him, and you invariably have your Murrays who want another king than his Majesty who sits in London and will pay any price we ask for promises of help we never keep.
"Must you be going? Adieu, then! And do not be setting any of your neat snares for me, Monsieur l'Arlesien."
The sun bathed the dust of Pearl Street wherever it could steal between the layers of the thick-leafed boughs overhead. I lounged on the doorstep of our cozy, red-brick house by the corner of Garden Street, and reread the letter from Master Juggins which the supercargo of the Bristol packet had delivered a half-hour earlier.
My Hart is reejoiced, deare Lad, at ye Ezcelant report of yon which is come From Governour Burnet. Granny was so Plesed she sang untill ye Prentises sent word above-stares Beseching a Treate of ale which ye Swete Soul dispached at once. I have This Day taken out ye Papers of partnership in Your name, and when this Reches you ye sign above ye Doore will run as Juggins & Ormerod.
Murray's discomfitur hath had Exceding Advantageous efects in ye Citie and ye Marchaunts who Earley did Clamor for ye freedom of Trade with ye French are now Perceveinge how ye Planne of Governour Burnet did Sette to their Profit in ye Longe Runne. Use your Own Judgments, I praye you, in developping ye Provincial Trade and draw Upon mee at will for what Funds you Maye need.
Grannie and I do send you our Love and Respect and She biddes me say she Considders 'Twas ye Actte of Godde I was sette Upon in ye Mincing Lane what time you Came to my Rescue. We desire that you and Mistress Marjory may Deem ye house in Holbourne your home and 'twould deelight our Eyes might we See you Here. Butte of that you will bee ye Judges. Ye New World is ye world for Youth, of that There can bee no Dispute.
I do Enclose ye Miniature of your Mother which an Agente hath secured from ye Jew on ye Quai de l'Horloge in Paris as you Tolde mee and Agane do Salute you with Afectionate Regarde and asure you and your Wife all ye Love that Words may encompass.
I drew the miniature from my pocket and recalled the damp, wintry day in Paris I had made up my mind to quit the Jacobite cause and try my fortune at all risks in England; the pang with which I had abandoned the last link remaining with my dead parents; the rough trip in the smuggler's lugger; the wet landing at night on the dreary Channel coast; the fruitless attempts to enlist the aid of former friends; the hue and cry upstart cousins had raised; the flight to London; the——
"Ha, there, Ormerod!"
I looked up to see the burly figure of Governor Burnet rounding the corner. He waved a handful of papers at me.
"The packet hath brought great news!" he cried.
"What is it, your Excellency?"
"The Lords of Trade have seen the light, —— 'em! After we had overridden 'em and pounded sense into their thick heads with mallets, by gad! But they are coming around to our view, and for that a humble provincial governor should be thankful, I daresay. Do but hark to this!"
And, standing with legs spread apart in the middle of the paved sidewalk, he read:
"And seeing that the resentment of the Six Nations is so deeply stirred by reason of the tabling of the law, we are resolved that the provincial Government shall have authority to impose the duties upon trade-goods for Canada as before. And his Excellency the governor shall be required to file a complete report of the situation with such addenda, facts and statistics relative to amounts and totals of trade and fluctuations therein in the recent past as may be helpful to their lordships in reaching a final decision in this matter."
He shook the paper with a quaint mixture of derision and satisfaction.
"A final decision, forsooth! The plain truth, Ormerod, is that the protests of the French Court have aroused our merchants at home to a realization of the dangers they ran, and now that Murray is defeated and broken his friends and fellow-plotters have no reason for pushing their intrigue. 'Tis a commentary, indeed, upon the brains we have at Whitehall. I say naught of the City men, who after all can not be expected to be familiar with politics and the interplay of national ambitions.
"There is more of the same tone as that I read, but I will not burden you with it. Do but wait until I write them, as I shall by the first sailing, that the price of beaver is declined again at Montreal to half our quotations at Albany. Aye, and that we are sending into the wilderness country this Summer twice the number of traders who went out last year.
"But I am selfishly occupied with my own interests, Ormerod. Here is a matter which more nearly concerneth yourself."
He produced a large rolled sheet of parchment, imposingly enscrolled, across the top of which ran the legend:
A FREE PARDON
"'Twas bound to come," he rambled on. "Do you go within and show it to Mistress Ormerod."
But Marjory had been listening at the window, and as I opened the door she fell into my arms and clung there, sobbing for the relief that came to both of us with the lifting of the menace which had overhung my life so long.
"There, there," admonished the governor. "Gadslife, what does the girl weep for?"
"Be-be-because—I am—so—happy," answered Marjory,
"Heaven help us, should you weep for grief!" he exclaimed. "And what will you say when I tell you I am come likewise to summon your husband to attend for the first time as a member of the Council!"
His rubicund face gleamed with pleasure at the joy he had inspired in two hearts.
"Tut, tut, 'tis nothing," he pursued his discourse. "I do but serve myself. I have been housecleaning this past Spring. There were rats in the Council who sought to trip me in the days you know of. They are gone. Ormerod should have had a seat ere this but 'twas best to await the pardon."
"I am so happy I know not what to do," protested Marjory, wiping her eyes. "But, oh, see who comes!"
We followed her pointing finger; and there, striding between the ordered house-fronts of Pearl Street, exactly as I had seen him the first time we met, came Ta-wan-ne-ars, the eagle's feather slanting from his scalp-lock, the wolf's head of his clan insignia painted on his naked chest. His grave face was smiling. His right arm was raised in salute.
"Qua, Ga-en-gwa-ra-go!Qua, friends! Ta-wan-ne-ars greets you."
"You are just arrived?" I asked.
"This hour landed, brother, from the river-sloop."
"Have you any frontier news?" questioned the governor, alert as always for tidings of his distant dominions.
"Only news of peace. The frontier is quiet. The Doom Trail is closed. Do-ne-ho-ga-weh and To-do-da-ho say to Ga-en-gwa-ra-go that the French have forgotten the threats they made. The Covenant Chain was too strong for them, and so long as the English and the People of the Long House keep their hands clasped the peace will endure."
"I told the French that the People of the Long House had the right to destroy a force which assailed their interests," responded the governor. "And his Majesty my King sent word to the French King that my words were straight."
"Ga-en-gwa-ra-go is a friend to the Great League," rejoined the Seneca. "His fame as a truth-teller and a covenant-keeper has gone broadcast. The far tribes are traveling to Albany to offer their allegiance and friendship to him. The fur-trade is once more under control of the English and the Long House."
"We have waited long for you to visit us, brother," I said. "Now that you have come we shall make you stay many moons."
His smile became sad.
"It can not be. Ta-wan-ne-ars comes to say good-bye."
"Good-bye?"
"Yes, brother. Have you forgotten the search for my Lost Soul!"
"But she is dead!"
"She is with Ata-ent-sic."
"What is this that you speak of?" demanded the governor.
And we told him the story of Ga-ha-no, while the sunshine mottled the dust of Pearl Street and the life of the little town droned sleepily under the trees.
Master Burnet drew a deep breath when the tale was finished.
"You really believe you may find this Land of Lost Souls out there"—he motioned over the scattered house-tops toward Hudson's River—"beyond the setting sun?"
"The ancient tales of my people say that I may," replied Ta-wan-ne-ars.
"And why not?" returned the governor. "God alone—and I say it with all fitting reverence—knows what lies beyond the wilderness country.
"Go, Ta-wan-ne-ars. Seek your Lost Soul. Even if you do not find the shadow land of Ata-ent-sic, you may find wonders that your people and mine have never dreamed of."
"Yes," said the Seneca. "Ta-wan-ne-ars will go. What is life but a search? Some men seek scalps. Some men seek beaver-pelts. Some men seek honors as leaders and orators. Some men seek truth.
"Ta-wan-ne-ars seeks his Lost Soul. He has no fear. He will go through Da-ye-da-do-go-war, the Great Home of the Winds, where Ga-oh, the Wind Spirit, dwells. He will go through Ha-nis-ka-o-no-geh, the Dwelling-Place of the Evil-Minded. He will go to the world's end if the Great Spirit will but guide his footsteps."
"Oh, I pray that you may find what you seek," cried Marjory, the tears in her eyes again. "But sure, you will stay with us a little while?"
"I will go at once, Sister Ne-e-ar-go-ye"—he called her the Bear in memory of her exploit in rescuing us from the False Faces—"now that I have seen my white friends."
"Stay with us a while," she pleaded.
"You would not ask me if you knew how my heart hungered for her whom I have lost," he answered.
"Then go," said Marjory quickly. "And God bless you."
"Hi-ne-a-weh,[1] O, my sister. It is time. I have been delayed overlong. There were many things for Ta-wan-ne-ars to do before he could go. The affairs of the Long House required attention. The guard of the Western Door must be secured.. But from this day I shall turn my face to the setting sun, and the hunger in my heart will be satisfied—if the Great Spirit wills it, as I think He does."
[1] I thank you.
He would not step indoors for food, but insisted on walking back toward the Broad-Way with Master Burnet and me. At the Bowling Green we encountered Peter Corlaer. His huge belly waggled before him with the energy of his pace, and he was quite out of breath.
"Ha, Peter," the governor hailed him. "Well met, indeed. What hath earned us this honor?"
"I heardt Ta-wan-ne-ars was here," he panted. "I followedt him down rifer from Fort Orange."
"What does Corlaer wish?" asked Ta-wan-ne-ars.
The big Dutchman stammered and gurgled with embarrassment.
"I go with you," he gasped after much effort.
"But you know not whither I go," said Ta-wan-ne-ars.
"Wherefer you go. Idt does not matter."
"I go to the Land of Lost Souls."
"Ja, that's all righdt," returned Corlaer. "I go with you."
"Take him, Ta-wan-ne-ars," advised the governor. "'Tis a friend you may depend upon who will follow you a week's journey for the privilege of securing your assent to the risking of his life in your service."
The hard lines of the Seneca's stern face were softened by a rare glow of feeling.
"Ta-wan-ne-ars never doubted Corlaer, Ga-en-gwa-ra-go," he answered, squeezing Peter's hand in his. "He would not ask any to go with him because the peril is great. But he will be glad to have Peter by his side. We will take the first boat which leaves."
"One is sailing from der Whale's Headt wharf," suggested Peter.
"Good. Then we will say good-bye here."
"No, no, we will accompany you to the wharf," said the governor. "Where are you from, Peter?"
"I was in der Shawnees' country when I heardt Ta-wan-ne-ars was going upon a long journey alone. So I go to De-o-nun-da-ga-a, andt from there to Fort Orange andt here."
"Have you heard aught of Black Robe since the burning of La Vierge du Bois?"
"He was in der country of der Miamis this Spring, they saidt."
"And Murray?"
"Nein, Murray is nefer spoken of. Der French would hafe none of him. They saidt he sailed from Quebec for der Hafana."
"So are the mighty fallen," mused the governor as we strolled along. "A few short months ago he was more powerful than I in the province. Today he is nobody."
"Beg yer pardons, sirs," wheezed a voice behind us, "but the tapman at the Whale's Head Tavern yonder said as how one o' ye was Master Ormerod."
The speaker was a tarry, grizzled sailor-man, with three fingers slashed off his left hand. He touched his cap knowingly, and ranged up beside us.
"I am Master Ormerod," I told him.
"Ah, yessir. Thanky, sir."
He eyed me keenly.
"It's the face and the figger, right enough. I'd ha' knowed you anywheres."
"Where have I seen you before!" I inquired with surprize.
"Never laid eyes on me, you ain't, sir—nor me on you," he returned promptly.
"What is it you want then?"
I reached into my pocket, thinking perhaps the man was a beggar. 'Twas my lucky day, I reflected, and 'twould be churlish to deny help to one in want.
"I won't be refusin' o' a pan o' rum like," he responded with a grin. "But my business was to give ye this."
And he produced from the inside of his jacket an oblong package wrapped in canvas.
"Here y'are, sir."
He thrust it into my grasp, fisted the shilling I offered him and made off at speed into a convenient alley. I called after him, but he only cast a look over his shoulder and took to his heels.
"Examine the package," said the governor. "'Tis a queer gift a man will not wait to see appraised."
Beneath the canvas was a wrapping of oiled silk, and within that one of heavy linen. As this fell away our eyes were blinded by a dazzling heap of red and white stones linked with bars of gold.
"A necklace of rubies and diamonds," opined Master Burnet. "Spoil of the Indies."
A slip of paper fluttered to the ground. I picked it up. The writing was in brown ink, faded by dampness, but fully legible—a bold, flowing script. It ran:
From One who shal bee Namelesse, a Gentleman of goode Estate and Name, who is now Under a Cloude but will Yette recover fromme 'ye slings and Arrowes of Outrageous fortune.' Take this so Mistress Ormerod maye not bee Portionlesse. There is More where this came from.
"I'll wager there is," pronounced the governor. "Master Murray hath turned pirate. I would I had that tarry breeks who scurried hence, and we might screw some information from him. But New York town is a favorite haunt of his breed, and he will disappear without trouble."
"What shall I do with it?" I asked in bewilderment.
Ta-wan-ne-ars and Peter joined in the governor's hearty roar of amusement.
"Why, even accept it," quoth Master Burnet. "The villain has tricked you so you can do naught else. 'Tis an extraordinary rogue."
So I pocketed the gems, and we walked out upon the wharf where the sloopRiver Queenelay with her moorings slack.
"Tumble aboard, my masters," shouted the captain. "There's a fair breeze and the tide is flowing."
"Good-bye," said Ta-wan-ne-ars. "Ga-en-gwa-ra-go and O-te-ti-an-i will be always in the thoughts of Ta-wan-ne-ars."
"Goodt-by," mumbled Corlaer.
"Good-bye for a while," retorted the governor. "We shall be ready to welcome you with rejoicing when you return with a brave tale to tell us."
"Good-bye," I called, and my voice choked.
I raised my right arm in the Iroquois gesture of greeting and farewell. Ta-wan-ne-ars answered in kind, motionless as a bronze statue against the dirty gray expanse of the sail. The sloop dropped her moorings and glided out into the current.
In ten minutes Peter's face was a broad white blotch at the foot of the mast and Ta-wan-ne-ars was a darker blur beside him. They sailed on into the eye of the setting sun.
"'Tis the very spirit of this land, Ormerod," observed Master Burnet as we watched. "Having finished one adventure, they seek a fresh trial of their resource and daring. Ah, well, 'tis for you and me to take their precept and strive to sharpen our wits upon some homely adventures of our own. All of us may not seek the Land of Lost Souls, but each of us may find a worth-while task upon his doorstep."
EPILOGUE
Bow down your heads, O my Readers! He-no, the Thunderer, and Ga-oh, the Old Man of the Winds, are filling the air with confusion. Our Council-Fire is dying. The smoke has drifted away. Ha-wen-ne-yu has shut his ears. The doors to Yesterday are closing.
We will dance the O-ke-wa, the Dance for the Dead, for what was has passed. It is no more. Only the memory of the wise and the brave remains. Not even the Falling Waters of Jagara can sweep away the names of To-do-da-ho and the Shining Ones of the Great League.
They have been honored by Ha-wen-ne-yu. They sit at his side in the Halls of Ho-no-che-no-keh. The Good Spirits laugh and chant their praises as they show the scalps they have taken and recount the tribes they conquered. The De-o-ha-ko, the Three Sisters, our Supporters, are their handmaidens. They flourish in the Hereafter like the Pine-Tree on earth.
Remember them, O my Readers! Remember the Founders! Remember the Long House they built! Remember the warriors of the Eight Clans!
For what you are you owe to them.
Ha-ho!
THE END