"This belt was given to me by To-do-da-ho," he said, turning to me. "He bade me, at any time I required speech with him or desired his friendship and assistance, to send it to him as a reminder of his pledge of alliance. I entrust it in your hands, Master Ormerod."
Several hours later, when the lights of Albany were gleaming through the night, the governor said good-by to us at a sally-port. He offered no parting advice, indulged in no rounded homilies. That was not his way. He had laid all his cards before us on the table; he had taken us completely into his confidence; he had told us how much depended upon our effort. He was content with that.
"A safe journey," he called cheerily, "and whatever William Burnet may do for you, doubt not he will attempt."
That was all.
We set our feet to the Great Trail and made camp toward morning in the woods beyond Schenectady, deeming it best not to show ourselves in the settlements.
Our journey was uneventful. We rapidly traversed the Mohawk and Oneida countries, and came presently to Ka-na-ta-go-wa, the seat of the Council-Fire of the Great League, where To-do-da-ho dwelt. Ta-wan-ne-ars' brothers of the Wolf Clan made us welcome and sent a messenger to the venerableroy-an-eh, announcing the arrival of a party of ambassadors from Ga-en-gwa-ra-go. The following morning we were invited to the Council-House.
In the oblong, high-roofed bark building, with the undying fire burning in its center, To-do-da-ho sat amongst his brotherroy-an-ehs, the chiefs and Keepers of the Faith. Ta-wan-ne-ars pointed them out to me: To-nes-sa-ah of the Beaver Clan; Da-at-ga-dose and Sa-da-kwa-ha of the Bear; Ga-nea-da-je-wake of the Snipe; and so on. To-do-ha-ho himself was a wrinkled wisp of a man who would have seemed a corpse as he crouched down, burdened with heavy robes, but for the warm brightness of his eyes that glowed from under beetling brows.
He made me welcome in a speech of high-sounding phrases, which Ta-wan-ne-ars translated; and I replied as best I could through the same medium, confining my remarks to expressions of the honor I felt in being so received and the affection in which theroy-an-ehand his people were held by the governor. We smoked the ceremonial pipe as usual, and the council broke up.
The real business was transacted the next day when we three had speech privately with To-do-da-ho, and I gave him the Belt of the Covenant Chain and the message of the governor. He heard me out in silence, and sat for a while smoking, his eyes fixed on vacancy. This was his answer:
"I have heard your words, O white man whose name I can not say. Ta-wan-ne-ars, whom I have known since he was a boy, says that you speak with a straight tongue, but I did not need his endorsement of you. I am a very old man, and the one thing I have learned in life has been to tell true talk from false. I hope that you will soon given an Indian name, so that we can speak to you more politely.
"Moreover, I know, too, that Ga-en-gwa-ra-go would not have sent to me a messenger with a belt who could not be trusted. Therefore I answer you with a straight tongue.
"What Ga-en-gwa-ra-go says by your mouth is so. I have watched with uneasiness the efforts of the French to control the fur-trade. So have many of our wise men, but most of our people are busy with their hunting and other affairs and they do not consider such matters. In this they are much like the white people.
"Ga-en-gwa-ra-go says that it is to the interest of the People of the Long House to break down the Doom Trail. I agree with him. But Ga-en-gwa-ra-go is a ruler of men, and he knows it is always difficult to induce a people to take a difficult course of action unless the suggestion comes from their midst. My counsel to you is that you continue on along the Great Trail to the country of the Senecas, and give the message of Ga-en-gwa-ra-go to Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, the Guardian of the Western Door.
"The Frenchman de Veulle has taken away the daughter of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, and you tell me that he has used her to set up a foul religion amongst the renegade Keepers of the Doom Trail. Murray is equally guilty with de Veulle in this matter. Do-ne-ho-ga-weh has a just cause for vengeance against them.
"Let him, as Guardian of the Western Door, send out belts for a meeting of the Ho-yar-na-go-war, giving warning that the French are building a fort at Jagara to be a menace against us and that they are encouraging Murray in his disregard of the rights of the Long House. So he will arouse the resentment of our people much better than could be done if I acted solely on the suggestion of Ga-en-gwa-ra-go."
"Will you support Do-ne-ho-ga-weh in a demand for an expedition against the Doom Trail?" I asked.
"I will," he replied.
There was no more to be said, and we resumed our journey that day. Peter and Ta-wan-ne-ars both approved of To-do-da-ho's suggestion. And indeed, as I thought it over, its sagacity became more and more apparent. 'Tis the instinct of any people to be suspicious of requests for assistance from outside their own ranks.
We sent messengers on ahead of us, and traveled leisurely, arriving at De-o-nun-da-ga-a on the sixth day after starting from Ka-na-ta-go-wa. Outside the village we encountered a party of young warriors of the Wolf Clan, who strung the scalps of Bolling, Tom and their Cahnuagas on a lance and marched before us in a kind of triumphal procession.
The splendid old Guardian of the Western Door, attended by his counselors and retainers, met us at the village limits and escorted us to the Council-House, where there was high feasting and a rendition of the Trotting Dance which is used to open councils or welcome ambassadors.
"Ya-ha-we-ya-ha!" chanted the leader.
"Ha-ha!" replied the dancers.
"Ga-no-ok-he-yo!" yelled the leader.
"Wa-ha-ah-he-yo!" howled the dancers.
"Ya-wa-na-he-yo!" sang the leader.
"Wo-ha-ah-ha!" came the rumbling response.
As on our former visit 'twas late at night when Do-ne-ho-ga-weh slipped back to our quarters, and we were able to talk freely of our mission. First, however, Ta-wan-ne-ars must recount our adventures at La Vierge du Bois and the scouting of the Doom Trail.
Theroy-an-eh'sface became convulsed with passion as Ta-wan-ne-ars described, in words I did not need to understand, the part which Ga-ha-no played in the evil life of the Keepers of the Trail. His hand played with the hilt of his scalping-knife as Ta-wan-ne-ars narrated how Peter and I had slain Red Death and Black Death.
Then Ta-wan-ne-ars translated my message from the governor and the advice of To-do-da-ho. I stressed the fort at Jagara, repeating excerpts of the conversation of Joncaire and de Lery. I told him of the increase in the price of furs at Montreal, and vast quantities of trade-goods which were passing over the Doom Trail and the unwillingness of the New York merchants to understand the political aspects of the French policy in permitting them to reap such golden profits. I emphasized the attitude toward the People of Long House which the French would take once they fastened their grip on the fur-trade and were safely entrenched at Jagara.
"Two things may be done, Oroy-an-eh," I concluded. "Ga-en-gwa-ra-go might take up the hatchet against the French on behalf of Go-weh-go-wa and destroy the new fort at Jagara, or the People of the Long House might descend upon the Keepers of the Trail and destroy La Vierge du Bois and its wickedness. For Ga-en-gwa-ra-go to take up the hatchet would mean a long war, with much bloodshed, even if his people would obey him. For the People of the Long House to smash the Doom Trail would mean the use of one large war-party and at most a few weeks on the war-path. If the Doom Trail is smashed you need not worry over the fort at Jagara, for with Murray gone Ga-en-gwa-ra-go can soon control his own people, and we will dispose of Joncaire in due time. 'Tis for you to choose."
"Yo-hay!"[1] answered Do-ne-ho-ga-weh. "Your words have entered my ears, friend of my nephew. They are pleasant to me. I like to hear them. They arouse thoughts of the pain I wish to visit upon my enemies.
[1] "I have heard—I have understood."
"I am much pleased that To-do-da-ho suggested you should come to me. It is true, as he says, that the People of the Long House will be more eager to fight if the appeal is made to them by one of their own leaders. I will make such an appeal.
"We will summon a council of the Senecas to meet tomorrow. I will present what you have told me to them. We will send out belts to the Cayugas, the Onondagas, the Oneidas, the Tuscaroras, the Mohawks. You shall come with me to the Ho-yar-na-go-war and hear me make good my promises.
"Na-ho!"
He knocked the ashes from his pipe, and rose to go; but in the doorway he tarried strangely.
"Has Do-ne-ho-ga-weh more to say to me?" I asked him through Ta-wan-ne-ars.
"Have you a father, white man?" he answered.
"My father is dead."
"My son is dead also. He died many years ago. I have a nephew—" a stern smile lighted his austere face—"but I would not have him otherwise.
"White man, your enemy is my enemy. You are a brave warrior. You are the friend of Ta-wan-ne-ars. Will you become my son?"
"Ja, ja," muttered Peter in my ear as Ta-wan-ne-ars translated with impartial accuracy. "Idt is a greadt honor."
"If Do-ne-ho-ga-weh thinks that I am worthy to be his son I shall accept his offer with pride," I replied.
"Good," he said phlegmatically, and his arm lifted in the gesture of salutation. "Tomorrow the Keepers of the Faith shall raise you up and find you a vacant name on the roll of the Wolf Clan."
The statesmen and warriors of the Senecas had come by hundreds to attend the tribal council at De-o-nun-da-ga-a. They squatted in serried ranks around the open place in the middle of the village where stood the ga-on-dote, or war-post, where public assemblies were held, where war-parties gathered when setting off upon expeditions, where prisoners were tortured and victories were celebrated.
They had come from near and far, from Nun-da-wa-o, the ancient village at the head of the Canandaigua Lake, which was the cradle of the tribe, and from the most remote ga-na-sote and the farthest frontiers of the immense domain which was ruled by the Keepers of the Western Door.
In front sat the eightroy-an-ehsand the two hereditary war-chiefs, the Wardens of the Door, the elective chiefs who had displayed merit in battle or negotiation, the Keepers of the Faith—and one white man, who was yet a Seneca, myself. Behind stretched row on row of warriors and huntsmen, and back of them the women and children.
The ceremonies were brief and were divided into two sessions upon different days. The first session was occupied mainly by the speech of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, explaining why he had summoned the council and pleading for authorization of the sending of belts to the other nations of the League so that the Ho-yar-na-go-war might be convened. He spoke at length in the midst of a silence so intense that the rustling of robes could be heard.
"You have heard my cause, O my people," he framed his peroration. "You know that the French have ravished one of the fairest daughters of the tribe. You know that I have been deeply wronged. You know that at Jagara, on land which is our land as much as that on which you now sit, the French are building a fort, and that they boast it will be a chain by which they will bind us in the future.
"You know that they scheme to gather into their own hands the fur-trade with the western tribes, so that we may no longer exact tribute of those who would pass through our territories to trade with the English. You know that ever since Onontio came to Quebec the French have been our enemies, and the English have been our friends. You know that these men, Murray and de Veulle, who have stolen my daughter, who have debased our ancient religion, who have deluded so many of the white men, who have built the foul nest of fiends who guard the Doom Trail, are the servants of the French.
"I ask you for vengeance. I ask you for the right to go before the Ho-yar-na-go-war. I speak with a straight tongue. I have witnesses by me. One is my nephew. Ta-wan-ne-ars. You know him. The other is O-te-ti-an-i,[1] my white son, who is a brother of the Wolf Clan.
[1] "Always Ready."
"They are Senecas. They have been to Jagara, and talked with the Frenchmen there. They were carried captives to La Vierge du Bois, and escaped. They have seen the evil which is at work. They have found the secret of the Doom Trail, and they will lead our warriors to it.
"If you will follow them, O my people, you will gain rich spoils and take many scalps. The cries of your captives will delight your ears. Your families will be proud of you.
"Na-ho!"
The council broke up into separate councils of the five clans of the tribe, the Bear, Wolf, Turtle, Snipe and Hawk. After the clan councils had come to agreement, theroy-an-ehsof the several clans, as spokesmen, met and reached a joint agreement. Their response was made at the second session of the tribal council on the following day by Ga-ne-o-di-yo of the Turtle Clan, the seniorroy-an-ehof the tribe.
"We have heard the pleas of the Guardian of the Western Door," he said. "We have discussed the stories told by Ta-wan-ne-ars and O-te-ti-an-i. We believe that all three have spoken with straight tongues. We believe that the Frenchman de Veulle has put a slight upon us, as well as upon Do-ne-ho-ga-weh and Ta-wan-ne-ars.
"We believe that Murray means harm to us. We believe that the trade over the Doom Trail is as dangerous to us as to the English. We believe that the French are our enemies.
"It is the judgment of the council that belts be sent to the brother nations for the meeting of the Ho-yar-na-go-war. Let the Counselors of the People decide what course is best.
"Na-ho!"
"Yo-hay!" echoed the audience.
That night the messengers were dispatched. They traveled night and day, with only the barest necessary intervals for food and sleep, and as they passed from nation to nation, the People of the Long House stirred with expectancy.
The Supreme Council of the League was summoned. Great events were under way. And on the heels of the messengers flowed a steadily swelling stream of men, women and children, for every family that had completed the harvest and Fall hunting was determined to be present upon so momentous an occasion.
The delegates of the Senecas found the Great Trail already choked with humanity when they set out from Nun-da-wa-o a week behind the messengers. It was like some highway of civilized life, with the difference that the current ran in but one direction. The faces of all were turned eastward toward the Onondaga Lake.
But when we reached the outskirts of Ka-na-ta-go-wa we encountered a second stream flowing westward. Senecas and Cayugas met and mingled with Oneidas, Tuscaroras and Mohawks, and Onondagas viewed the extraordinary confluence of people with grave interest.
The shores of the Onondaga Lake and the valley of the Onondaga River were outlined by the myriad camp-fires which marked the temporary habitations of this migratory swarm. The principal personages, of course, were entertained by their clan brethren in the Onondaga villages. But for the rank and file 'twas an occasion calling for the Indian's instinctive ability to make much out of nothing. Lodges of sticks and bark and skins, with fires in the door-ways, sufficed for hundreds of families, and whole villages sprang up in a day, each grouped about some strong or well-known personality, a favorite orator or successful war-chief, whose name was appropriated for the site.
Dancing and games, trials of skill with weapons, singing and feasting and story-telling occupied the time of the multitudes to whom the Ho-yar-na-go-war was an opportunity for escaping the monotony of forest life. They left to their leaders the serious business of government.
Theroy-an-ehsof the different tribes visited one another; consultations were held; and Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, Ta-wan-ne-ars, Peter and myself were called upon again and again to repeat our arguments and offer the evidence we had gathered. In this way theroy-an-ehsfamiliarized themselves with the subject in advance of its formal presentation. 'Twas their habitual method whenever possible, I was told.
It must have been a week after our arrival that Ta-wan-ne-ars entered the Council-House of the Onondaga Wolves and announced the belated arrival of the Tuscarora delegation.
"It ill becomes the youngest nation of the League to come last," remarked Do-ne-ho-ga-weh.
"Aye, and all the more so when they are allowed to appear only by courtesy," rejoined Ta-wan-ne-ars.
"How is that?" I asked, full of curiosity to familiarize myself with the novel customs of my adopted people.
"The founders of the Long House created the fixed number ofroy-an-ehsand divided them amongst the five original nations," explained Ta-wan-ne-ars whilst Do-ne-ho-ga-weh resumed his interrupted conversation with several Oneida Wolves. "When the Tuscaroras and other nations applied for the protection of the League it was given with the understanding that they could not disrupt our ancient organization. In the case of the Tuscaroras, however, because they had been a great nation, we gave them the privilege of being represented at the Ho-yar-na-go-war, although their representatives may not take part in the deliberations."
"How many of theroy-an-ehswill attend?"
"All of the forty-eight are here."
"Is that the total?"
"No, brother. The Founders created fifty places, but when they themselves died it was determined that no other men should ever hold their names. So, as the Founders were both Mohawks, that tribe today has but seven, instead of the nine,roy-an-ehsapportioned to it, and when the Keeper of the Wampum calls the roll of theroy-an-ehstomorrow there will be no answer to two of the names—unless it be that Da-ga-na-we-da and Ha-yo-wont-ha make answer from their lodges in the Halls of the Ho-no-che-no-keh."
That afternoon To-do-da-ho proclaimed the meeting of the Ho-yar-na-go-war for the next day, and my friends busied themselves in oiling their skins, painting their clan emblems and donning their choicest garments. In the morning the delegations of the six nations left their headquarters, and marched with slow dignity to the Council-Ground, a broad meadow on the edge of the forest above the river valley.
In the center of the meadow a fire had been kindled from brands of the sacred, undying Council-Fire which burned in the Council-House and had burned in one spot or another of the Onondaga Valley ever since that dim day, far, far back in the remote past of history, when the Long House was built.
Around the fire theroy-an-ehsranged themselves, each with his assistant behind him. Of them all only Do-ne-ho-ga-weh was allowed two supporters, and I had been permitted to take the place of one of these—that of So-no-so-wa, the junior hereditary war-chief, who had been left at De-o-nun-da-ga-a to maintain the guard on the all-important Western Door. With Ta-wan-ne-ars beside me to give necessary instructions, I stood at Do-ne-ho-ga-weh's back and watched the imposing ceremonies.
My task was to hold the skin robe of theroy-an-ehupon which he sat during the deliberations. Ta-wan-ne-ars carried a bundle of red-cedar fagots, denoting that the Council was held to decide a question of war. Had its object been peaceful the fagots would have been of white cedar.
In the center of the circle, on the eastern side, stood the Keeper of the Wampum, Ho-yo-we-na-to, an Onondaga Wolf and seventh of theroy-an-ehsof his nation.
"Are you all here,roy-an-ehsof the Ho-de-no-sau-nee?" he called.
"We are all here," replied theroy-an-ehs.
"Now, then," he continued, "behold, I call the roll of you, you who were the Great Ones, you who were the Shining Ones, you who were joined with the Pounders. And first I call the roll of the peoples. Are you here, O Da-go-e-o-ga, the Shield People?"
"We are here, O Keeper," replied Da-ga-e-o-ga, seniorroy-an-ehof the Mohawks.
"Are you here, O Ho-de-san-no-ge-ta, the Name-Bearers?"
"We are here," replied To-do-da-ho for the Onondagas.
"Are you here, O Ho-nan-ne-ho-ont, the Keepers of the Door?"
"We are here," replied Ga-ne-o-di-yo for the Senecas.
"Are you here, O Ne-ar-de-on-dar-go-war, the Great Tree People?"
"We are here," replied Ho-das-ha-teh, seniorroy-an-ehof the Oneidas.
"Are you here, O So-nus-ho-gwa-to-war, Great Pipe People?"
"We are here," replied Da-ga-a-yo of the Cayuga Deers.
"Are you here, O Dus-ga-o-weh-o-no, Shirt-Wearing People?"
"We are here," echoed a Tuscarora chief from the position of his people just outside the charmed circle of theroy-an-ehs.
Ho-yo-we-na-to raised his arms in a gesture of invocation.
"The peoples are here, O Founders who sit aloft with Ha-wen-ne-yu. Heed ye now, O peoples. I begin the Roll of the Great Ones."
And his resonant voice sounded like trumpet-blasts blown for a victory as he intoned the names of theroy-an-ehs, beginning with Da-ga-e-o-ga of the Mohawk Turtles and ending with Do-ne-ho-ga-weh of the Seneca Wolves. When, immediately after the name of Da-ga-e-o-ga, he called the names of the Founders, Ha-yo-wont-ha and Da-ga-no-we-da, he paused, and the immense concourse of Indians who stood and sat around the fringes of the meadow all turned their eyes skyward, as if expecting some demonstration from the Shining Ones.
Again the Keeper of the Wampum raised his arms in invocation. Then he took from the ground at his feet belt after belt of wampum, and from the designs woven into them recited, clearly and rapidly, the principal events in the recorded history of the League and the rules prescribed for the conduct of the Ho-yar-na-go-war. At the end of his recitative, which was crudely rhythmical, he addressed himself once more to the assemblage.
Under his direction the skin robes of theroy-an-ehswere deposited on the ground with the fagots in front of them. The Mohawks, Onondagas and Senecas, the senior nations, who were brothers to each other, were ranged on the eastern half of the circle, with the rising sun at their backs. The Cayugas and Oneidas, who were sons to the three senior nations, with the Tuscaroras sitting behind them, were on the western side.
The Keeper of the Wampum next set fire to his own fagot by friction, and then passed around the circle, setting each fagot alight, so that a circle of little fires blazed up around the sacred Council-Fire. When all the fires were going he returned to his place and led theroy-an-ehsin a stately procession three times around the circle, each turning from time to time as he walked, so as to expose both sides of his person to the heat in typification of the warming influence of their mutual affections.
With the completion of the third round the fagots had been burned to cinders; theroy-an-ehswere all seated; and the deliberations of the Council were begun, the direction of affairs passing simultaneously from the hands of the Keeper of the Wampum to To-do-da-ho.
"We are met, O my brethren," began the venerable Onondaga, "to decide whether or no we shall lift the hatchet. Do-ne-ho-ga-weh speaks for the Keepers of the Door who ask for war."
There would be no point in repeating Do-ne-ho-ga-weh's oration. It was masterly, superior even to the address by which he carried his own people with him. The intervening days had given him time for thought and his statements were the more convincing, his figures more polished, his arguments more closely reasoned.
He arraigned the whole history of the intercourse of the French with the League. He described how de Veulle had lured away Ga-ha-no as a young maid. He expanded the designs of Murray and his French allies. He touched glowingly upon the friendship of the English. He pointed out how the fortunes of the two peoples had become intertwined.
Theroy-an-ehsand the attendant throngs sat phlegmatically through it all. An audience of white men must have applauded or derided so positive a speaker, and I expressed my fears to Ta-wan-ne-ars. He smiled.
"It is the custom of my people," he whispered. "Wait, brother, until the speeches in answer come."
At last Do-ne-ho-ga-weh sat down. An interval of some minutes elapsed. Then aroy-an-ehof the Mohawks arose.
"My people have been much concerned over the power which Murray has acquired," he said. "But it has seemed to us that it was more dangerous to Ga-en-gwa-ra-go than to us. Why do not the English scotch this snake in their midst?"
Do-ne-ho-ga-weh explained succinctly the situation which existed in New York. A Cayuga responded, expressing amazement that the English, who were usually so sensible, should act in such a childish manner. He concluded by asking if the League might expect the help of the English in an attack upon the Doom Trail.
This was the most difficult point we had to overcome, and Do-ne-ho-ga-weh replied with circumspection.
"It is true, as my brother has said," he answered, "that we might expect the English to move with us in this matter. But my friends among the English send me word that their people are blinded for the moment by the falsities of Murray and the French. Their counsels are divided.
"Ga-en-gwa-ra-go would welcome our action, and would support it and protect us from the vengeance of France. But he would find it difficult to act himself."
"If Ga-en-gwa-ra-go will not act, why should the League act?" demanded the Cayuga.
"Because it is to the interest of our people to act even more than it is to the interest of the English," retorted Do-ne-ho-ga-weh with impassioned energy. "Already the English are more numerous than we are. They have strong forts. We have only the forest. They have brothers across the Great Water who will aid them. We have only the uncertain aid of our allies and subject tribes.
"Some day the French will try to drive the English from the land, but before they can do that they must destroy our League. It is we who will feel the first blow, and Murray's trade over the Doom Trail and his bands of Keepers of the Trail are in preparation for the destruction of the Long House. If you wait, O my people, you will perish. If you strike now you will live and the League will continue.
"The decision is in your hands. If you fight for the English you will survive and grow stronger. If you fight for the French or if you do not fight for the English, you will slowly be crippled and in a little time you will be no more feared than the Mohicans or the Eries.
"Na-ho!"
That was the last speech of the day, and the Council adjourned, only, as in the case of the Senecas' tribal council, to dissolve into minor councils of theroy-an-ehsof the different clan groups in each tribe. These continued throughout the following day, and as theroy-an-ehsof one clan agreed they consulted amongst themselves with theroy-an-ehsof another clan group, and so gradually the representatives of an entire tribe came to an accord.
When the representatives of each tribe had reached the unanimity which was required by the laws of the League, they discussed the situation informally with theroy-an-ehsof the other tribes; and on the fifth day To-do-da-ho summoned the final and decisive session of the Ho-yar-na-go-war.
The preliminary ceremonies were brief. After an invocation to the Great Spirit by the Keeper of the Wampum, To-do-da-ho delivered the common judgment of theroy-an-ehs.
"Murray and the Keepers of the Doom Trail are the enemies of the Long House. We must break them now before they grow too powerful. Therefore we have decided to take up the hatchet against them. But we shall send word to Ga-en-gwa-ra-go, appealing to him, by virtue of the covenant chain between us, to support us against the vengeance of the French. This is the decision of the Ho-yar-na-go-war, O my people."
"Yo-hay!" answered theroy-an-ehs.
And the thousands of people in the meadow echoed the shout.
Do-ne-ho-ga-weh stood up.
"I have a favor to ask of the Council, O my brothers," he said. "Will you relieve me of my duties as Guardian of the Western Door so that I may raise the warriors who will go against the Doom Trail?"
"The request of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh is granted," replied To-do-da-ho after a short consultation with theroy-an-ehs. "Let him set up the war-post and strike it with his hatchet. Many brave warriors will be glad to follow so famous a chief. So-no-so-wa, who now holds the Door, shall continue his watch until Do-ne-ho-ga-weh returns to tell of the many scalps he took."
The bystanders responded with the war-whoop; but my attention was diverted by a young Onondaga who attempted to explain something to me in his dialect. Seeing I could not understand, Ta-wan-ne-ars approached and listened to him, a look of astonishment creasing his usually impassive face.
"The Onondaga says that a Frenchman has come to the village who claims to have a message for you," translated the Seneca.
"For me? Who can it be from?"
But even as I asked, a sense of foreboding gripped me.
"I do not know, brother. Let us hasten and find out."
We pushed our way through the masses of warriors already beginning the war-dance, and ran between the vegetable gardens toward Ka-na-ta-go-wa, the roofs of whose long houses showed above the tree-tops of the lower ground.
We found the messenger squatting placidly by the Council-House under the guard of several Onondagas, who obviously did not relish the sight of a Frenchman in their midst during the sitting of the Ho-yar-na-go-war. He put aside his pipe as we approached and stood up. But for his white skin, which was rather dingy under a coating of tan and dirt, 'twould have been difficult to distinguish him from the savages. He was of the usual type ofcourrier du bois, but with an unusually repellant countenance.
"You have a message for me?" I said.
"Are you Monsieur Ormerod?" he replied in his peasant's patois.
"I am."
He examined me with a sidewise squint out of his shifty eyes, and fished with one hand in the bosom of his filthy leather shirt.
"You will pay for the service?" he inquired warily.
"Anything in reason," I answered impatiently.
"She said you would pay what I asked," he temporized.
"She! Who?"
My worst fears were confirmed. I took one step forward and grasped the ruffian by the arm.
"Who?" I repeated. "Tell me, if you value your life! And give me the message."
"No offense, no offense,monsieur" he growled, pulling away from me. "Mademoiselle Murray——"
"Give it to me," I insisted. "We will talk of pay afterward."
He reluctantly withdrew his hand from his shirt, and offered me a folded square of heavy paper, stained with sweat. I opened it carefully, lest it tear, and saw these lines of fine, angular writing staring me in the face:
"La Vierge du Bois, ye 21st Sptr., 1725.
You said You wld. come if I calld for You. I Begge you now, in ye Name of All you Holde Deer, help Mee. I am to be Forcd to wed ye Chev. de Veulle. 'Tis ye Price he has Fixd for his Services to Mr. Murray. They have Procurd a Dispensation from ye Bishoppe of Quebec. They will Marrie me whenne Père Hyancinthe is returnd from a Visitt to ye Dionondadies by ye Huronne Lake. So much grace I have obtaned from them. Help Mee. MARJORY.
Do notte Trust ye messenjer who Carries this, but plese Pay him What he asks. Come by ye waye you Lefte through ye Woodde of ye Fake Faces.
Stunned, I read it a second time, then handed it to Ta-wan-ne-ars.
"What is your name!" I asked the messenger whilst Ta-wan-ne-ars scanned the paper.
"Baptiste Meurier," he said sullenly.
"How long since is it that you started from La Vierge du Bois!"
"Five weeks more or less.Monsieurhas been difficult to find."
"More," I decided, remembering the date on the letter. "Do you know what the message said?"
"How should I,monsieur?" he objected quickly. "Me, I do not read."
"Was there no other word?"
"Mais, non."
"Who gave you the paper?"
"Who but themademoiselleherself?"
"How did she happen to choose you?"
He protruded his chest.
"Who better could she select than Baptiste Meurier?" he replied. "North of the Lakes every one knows Baptiste Meurier—and I am not unknown to the Iroquois."
"But how did themademoisellehear of you, Baptiste?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Who can say? A beautiful young person says she has a mission of much importance and profit to be performed. I reply I will go anywhere for a price. I am told I have only to name it. And so I am here,monsieur."
"And what is your price?" I inquired, amused despite myself by the cool insolence of the scoundrel.
"Two hundred livres," he said instantly.
"Very well. It shall be paid. You will be detained here for a time, and I will purchase for you a sufficient number of beaver-pelts to defray that sum. Is that satisfactory?"
"Why should I have to wait?" he parried. "Peste, Winter draws on fast, and I——"
"You will wait," I cut him off. "And you will be paid."
And, turning to Ta-wan-ne-ars, I asked him to give the necessary instructions to the Onondagas. The messenger, a look of sour satisfaction on his cunning face, was marched off to undergo the restraint of an unwelcome visitor.
"Well?" I said to Ta-wan-ne-ars.
The Seneca returned me the letter.
"See," he said, pointing to the wild geese flying in pairs to the south, "the cold weather is coming. For the last week the northern sky has been hard and clear. There has been snow beyond the Lakes."
"What does that mean!" I demanded.
"That Black Robe will be delayed in returning from his visit to the Dionondadies. And that is a very good thing for us, brother. But for that I think we would be too late."
"But we shall have fighting," I exclaimed. "The Keepers will soon discover us, and no matter how numerous we may be they will fight desperately. They may carry her away to Canada before we reach La Vierge du Bois."
"That is true," he admitted. "And the thought Ta-wan-ne-ars had, brother, was that we might leave to Do-ne-ho-ga-weh and Corlaer the breaking of the Doom Trail whilst you and I with a handful of warriors marched around by the way we escaped, as the white maiden advises in her letter. That way is not guarded, for none has known it, and perhaps we may hide in the Wood of the False Faces and bear off the maiden in the confusion of a surprize attack."
"It sounds reasonable," I said doubtfully. "'Tis preferable to trusting to the main attack."
"There is no other plan," he rejoined with energy. "Moreover, as my brother knows, Ta-wan-ne-ars seeks to save Ga-ha-no, too."
The hint of pain in his voice, which was never absent when he spoke of his lost love, shamed me for the instinctive selfishness which had made me concerned only with my own troubles.
"We will not save one without the other," I cried. "No, Ta-wan-ne-ars, do we not owe our lives as much to her as to Marjory?"
"What you say is true," he replied. "But let us not talk of what we will do until the time comes. I hope that the Great Spirit will be lenient with my Lost Soul, yet it may be her time has not come. If it has come we shall save her. If it has not Ta-wan-ne-ars will try again."
"And so will I."
"My brother is generous, as always," he said simply. "Now we must tell what we have learned to Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, and arrange our plans with him."
The Guardian of the Western Door was the center of an immense mob of warriors who danced around the war-post which had been planted in the Council-Place. Man after man, chanting the deeds he had performed or those he pledged himself to in the future, rushed up and struck the post with his hatchet in token of his intent to participate in the expedition.
The grim face of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh was alight with the joy of battle.
"Behold, O my son," he called to me, "the warriors of the Eight Clans are with us. Our brothers of the Turtle, Beaver, Bear and Wolf, and our younger brothers of the Snipe, Heron, Deer and Hawk, all hunger for the scalps of the Keepers of the Trail.
"A thousand braves will follow us on the war-path. We will give the French a lesson. They shall see the might of the Long House."
But the light faded from his features as Ta-wan-ne-ars told him of the message from Marjory. A look of cold hatred accentuated the grimness of the hooked nose and high cheekbones.
"The French dog de Veulle is wearied of Ga-ha-no," he rasped. "He has had enough of the red maiden. Now he craves the white. Yes, it is well that my red nephew and my white son should go against this man who knows no laws to curb his lust.
"He may think that I am only an Indian, but my fathers have beenroy-an-ehsand chiefs for more moons than I could count in the whole of a moon. They sat beside the Founders. They took in marriage and they gave in marriage. It is time that this insult to their memory was wiped out. Let it be wiped out in a river of blood. Then, O my nephew and my son, draw; his scalp across his trail so that no man can tell he ever passed. I charge you, do not spare him."
"We will not spare him, Oha-nih,[1]" I promised.
[1] Father.
"Good! It shall be as you ask. Corlaer shall guide me to the Doom Trail. How many warriors are to go with you?"
We debated this point together, and decided that for purposes of swift movement and secrecy we had best restrict our escort to twenty men. Do-ne-ho-ga-weh approved this number.
"Do nothing, if you can help it, until we have begun our attack," he said. "If you must move without us, rely upon flight, for you can not hope to succeed by fighting."
The remainder of that day was devoted to the organization of our party and the instruction of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh and his lieutenants in the geography of the Doom Trail and the bearing of La Vierge du Bois, which, it must be remembered, no hostile tongue had been able to describe until Ta-wan-ne-ars and I had escaped from the clutches of the False Faces.
Our party mustered at dawn the next morning. It consisted of twenty stalwart young Seneca Wolves, each man selected by Ta-wan-ne-ars for strength and wind. Despite the chill of advancing Winter in the air, they were stripped to the waist, their leather shirts rolled in packages which were slung from their shoulders. In addition to their clothing and weapons each man also carried two lengthy contrivances of wood, with hide strips laced across them.
"What are they for?" I asked as Ta-wan-ne-ars presented me with a pair and showed me how to fasten them on my back so that the narrower ends stuck up over my head.
"Ga-weh-ga—snow-shoes," he replied. "In the wilderness, brother, the snow lies deep, and we should sink down at every step once the ground was covered after the first storm. You must learn how to use the ga-weh-ga, for otherwise you would be helpless."
Few Indians in the long chain of encampments in the Onondaga Valley saw us march forth, and those who did thought we were only an advance scout, for we kept our purpose a strict secret, even from the warriors of our escort. They were told no more than that they were given an opportunity to go upon a hazardous venture which should yield them fame and a proportionate toll of scalps.
That was all they wanted to know. Ta-wan-ne-ars was a leader they had fought under before. I was assigned a wholly undeserved measure of fame because of my recent adventures in his company.
We marched rapidly, taking advantage of the withering of the foliage to abandon the Great Trail and cut across country through the forest, which stood untouched outside the infrequent clearings of the Iroquois. For three days we averaged thirty miles a day, and each day, when, we camped, I practised with the snow-shoes on some level bit of ground, learning how to walk without catching the points and tripping myself.
We had not gone very far on the fourth day when O-da-wa-an-do, the Otter, a warrior who had attached himself to me, pointed through the leafless trees toward a grayish-white bank which was rolling down upon us from the north.
"O-ge-on-de-o," he said. "It snows."
The word was passed along the line, and Ta-wan-ne-ars ordered the warriors to don their shirts. Fifteen minutes later the snow began to fall. Driven by a piercing wind, it descended like a vast, enveloping blanket, coldly damp, strangling the breath, blinding the eyes, numbing the muscles.
We struggled along against it until we came to a hillside scattered with large boulders. Here we halted and built shelters for ourselves by roofing the boulders with pine saplings we hacked down with our tomahawks. Under these, with fires roaring at our feet, we made shift to resist the cold.
The snow fell for the better part of two days, so thickly as to preclude traveling, and during that time we dared not stir from shelter, except to collect firewood. In the evening of the second day the storm passed, and the stars shone out in a sky that was a hard, metallic blue.
"We have lost much time, brothers," said Ta-wan-ne-ars, "and we have had a long rest. Let us push on tonight."
After the fashion of the Iroquois he always gave his commands in the form of advice; but no warrior ever thought of disputing him.
"I no longer see the Loon above us," I remarked to him as I put on my snow-shoes. "How shall you find your way?"
"The Great Spirit has taken care of that," he answered, and he raised his arm toward the sparkling group of the Pleiades. "There are the Got-gwen-dar, the Seven Dancers. They shine for us in the Winter, and we shall guide our steps by them."
Our progress that night and for several days afterward was slowed considerably by my clumsiness on snow-shoes. But The Otter and other warriors went to considerable pains to help me, picking out the easiest courses to follow, quick with hint or advice to remedy my ignorance. I became proficient enough to travel at the tail of the column, although my companions could never march as rapidly as they would have done without me.
After starting we met only one party of Oneida hunters, who had not heard of the decision of the Ho-yar-na-go-war to take the war-path against Murray. The Mohawks had all retired to their villages for the Winter, and the wilderness which was traversed by the Doom Trail was deserted because of the universal Indian fear of the False Faces. Ta-wan-ne-ars and I discussed this point as we neared the forbidden country, and I suggested that he tell his followers our destination.
He waited until we were a long day's march from and well to the northwest of the goal. Then he gathered the warriors about him as they mustered for the trail.
"Soon, O my brothers," he said in the musical, cadenced Seneca dialect which I was beginning to take pleasure in understanding, "we shall strike our enemies. It is a desperate enterprise you go upon. No war-party ever set out to risk such heavy odds. No warriors of the Long House were ever called upon to practise such caution, to reveal such courage.
"O my brothers, we are going into the Wood of Evil, the haunt of the False Faces which is the breeding-place of all the wickedness that brands the Keepers of the Doom Trail. You will face much that is horrible. You will be threatened with spells and witchcraft. But I ask you to remember that my brother O-te-ti-an-i and I passed through all such perils without harm. Keep your hearts strong."
"Yo-hay," muttered the warriors in gutteral assent. "We will keep our hearts strong, O Ta-wan-ne-ars."
Their faces were more serious than before, but they exhibited no signs of fear. Several asked questions as to the False Faces and their rites, and we explained to them the false atmosphere of horror which had been spread designedly to protect the traffic of the Doom Trail.
We moved much more cautiously now that we were near our journey's end, with three scouts always in front, one on either flank of the path we trod. But we saw no signs of other men, although many times we came upon bear-tracks. Toward evening we struck the waters of the tumbling little river through which Ta-wan-ne-ars and I had waded that night after Marjory had released us.
Here we rested whilst scouts went ahead as far as the edge of the Evil Wood. They returned to report not a footprint in the snow. We ate a little parched corn mixed with maple-sugar and some jerked meat we carried in our haversacks.
About midnight we all moved forward, Ta-wan-ne-ars leading the line. The oaks and elms, maples and willows, which had composed the elements of the forest, now gave place to tall, funereal firs, whose massive jade-green foliage remained untouched by the icy breath of Winter.
It seemed as if we had entered a different world when they closed around us. The stars had twinkled through the bare branches of the other trees. Here were utter darkness and a far-away, mournful music of wind rustlings and clashing boughs. Grotesque shadows darted vaguely over the white ground as the trees swayed and groaned. In the distance an owl hooted solemnly. The Otter touched my shoulder.
"Did you hear the owl?" he murmured.
"Yes," I whispered back.
"It is cold for an owl to leave his tree-hole."
He threw back his head, and I started at the fidelity of the repetition.
"Too-whoo-oo! Too-hoo!"
We listened, but there was no answer. Instead, after a brief interval, the howl of a wolf resounded.
A few yards farther on the owl hooted again. The line halted, and the warrior in front of him whispered that Ta-wan-ne-ars wished to speak with me. I passed by him and several others and came to where the chief stood, peering, or trying the peer, into the night.
"There was something strange about the owl, brother," he said. "The warriors told me that the Otter answered it, yet it did not reply. And then the wolf——"
A yell as of fiends from hell shattered the mantle of silence. Flames spurted through the firs, and in the gleam of the discharges and of torches thrown into our midst I had a fleeting glimpse of hideous masked figures bounding between the tree-trunks.
"Keep your hearts strong, brothers of the Long House," shouted Ta-wan-ne-ars. "They are only Cahnuaga dogs. Stand to it."
He fired as he spoke. I imitated him. Our men shot off a scattering volley. Then the False Faces were amongst us, coming from all sides, springing out of the ground, dropping from the very branches overhead and wielding theirga-je-was, or war-clubs, with dreadful effect.
There was no time to reload. We fought with ax and knife as best we could. Ta-wan-ne-ars and I, with half a dozen of our warriors, crowded back to back. The rest of our party were cut off in twos and threes.
Resistance was hopeless. The swarms of False Faces seemed to care nothing for death if only they could bring down an Iroquois. They eschewed steel altogether, and battered down opposition with their knotted war-clubs, which shattered arms and shoulder-blades, but seldom killed.
I was knocked senseless by a blow which I partially warded with my tomahawk. When I came to I was lying in the snow in front of a huge fire. My arms were bound and my head ached so violently that I felt sick.
"Is my brother in pain?" asked the voice of Ta-wan-ne-ars.
I rolled over to find him lying beside me, the blood from three or four trivial cuts freezing on his head and shoulders.
"Yes," I groaned, "but 'tis naught."
"There was treachery," he said. "They knew we were coming, and they lost many men so that they might take us alive."
"All our warriors——" I faltered.
He turned his head to the left; and, following his gaze, I saw that I was on the right of a line of recumbent figures, which my dizziness would not permit me to count.
"No, not all, I think," Ta-wan-ne-ars answered after a moment. "Five are slain and fourteen others lie here. But I do not see the Otter."
He addressed the warrior next to him, but none of our fellow-prisoners could account for the Otter.
"The Otter suspected something wrong," I said. "'Twas he who answered the owl's call."
"It may be he escaped," replied Ta-wan-ne-ars. "I must warn our brothers to say naught of him. If the keepers do not suspect, they may believe they have all of us safe in their net."
He whispered his warning to the man beside him, and it was passed down the line.
"Your head is much swollen, brother," he said, rolling over again so as to face me. "Let Ta-wan-ne-ars make shift to bathe it with snow."
A shadow fell athwart us as we lay and a mocking voice replied for me:
"By all means, most excellent Iroquois. I trust you will nurse our valuable captive back to full strength and health."
I struggled to a sitting position, for I liked not to lie at de Veulle's feet, however much I might be at his mercy.
"So you walked into the spider's web," he continued, standing betwixt me and the firelight which ruddied his sinful face. "A woman's plea—and you threw caution to the winds! You fool! I used to value you as an enemy, but 'tis tame work fighting against a man who thinks I keep so easy a watch as to permit our beautiful friend to come and go as she lists."
"The letter was a bait?" I exclaimed incredulously.
"For you—yes. I say again—you fool! Baptiste took the letter to Murray, and Murray read it to me. It could not have been contrived more skilfully to suit our plans."
'Twas ridiculous, no doubt, but I was easier in my heart for assurance that Marjory had not known her appeal was used as a lure. It enabled me to maintain a stoicism of demeanor I did not feel.
"Well, 'twas kind of you to make such haste," he went on, sneering down at me. "You will be in time for the wedding after all. Oh, never fear; you shall be permitted to live that long. We have plenty of meat in this bag to supply diversion for our savages in the meantime.
"You, my friend, and the noble Iroquois here"—he kicked Ta-wan-ne-ars viciously—"shall be kept for the last. Who knows! We may have a new Mistress of the False Faces then. We are not pleased with the present one. There was something uncommonly odd about the circumstances of your escape—although 'tis true I had the little wildcat in my arms at the time—and it would add to the aroma of the mystery to have a white Mistress for a change. Aye, that is an idea worth considering."
He switched suddenly into the Seneca vernacular.
"Are you all here, Iroquois dogs?" he demanded curtly. "The scouts reported twenty warriors."
"All are here, French mongrel," returned Ta-wan-ne-ars pleasantly.
De Veulle kicked him.
"Keep that for the torture-stake," he advised. "We have five corpses and fourteen warriors and yourself. That is all?"
"All," reiterated Ta-wan-ne-ars.
De Veulle passed along the line, cross-questioning each prisoner to an accompaniment of kicks and threats. All told the same story. Next to success in battle nothing pleased an Iroquois more than the opportunity to exhibit indifference to torture. De Veulle seemed satisfied. The mistake he made was in failing to understand that the scouts had not counted Ta-wan-ne-ars, a chief, as a warrior. He returned to my side, and summoned a host of masked figures from the surrounding shadows. They jerked us to our feet, stamped out the fire and escorted us over the trampled, bloody snow where we had fought, through the gloomy aisles of the Evil Wood and into the irregular streets of La Vierge du Bois.
The dawn was a mere hint of pink in the eastern sky, but the Cahnuagas and their allied broods of renegades were all awake to greet us, and our guards forced a passage through the mass with difficulty. To our surprize, we were carried by the oblong hulk of the Council-House, and traversed the Indian village without stopping. Ahead of us loomed the tower of the chapel and the house where Murray dwelt, encircled by its stockade.
Two men stood by the gate of the stockade to greet us. One was Murray, debonair as ever in a frieze greatcoat, with a showing of lace at the collar, and a cocked hat. The other was Baptiste Meurier.
The unsavory face of thecourrier de boisgrinned appreciation of my astonishment.
"Peste, monsieur!" he exclaimed. "It seems you are a slow traveler. I feared I might be behind you, but I arrived twenty-four hours in advance. I have to thank you for the beaver-pelts. They were a sufficient bribe for my immediate release."
"That will do, Baptiste," interjected Murray.
And to me:
"One might think the animal deserved credit for a plan in which he was the humble instrument of superior intellects—which, I am bound to say, displayed their superiority mainly by seizing upon the opening presented to them by fortune. No, no; even had the good Baptiste been delayed we should have been ready for you. Heard you ever, Ta-wan-ne-ars, of scouts who wore bears' pads for moccasins?"
For the first and only time during our acquaintance Ta-wan-ne-ars was surprized into a look of chagrin.
"We thought it was late for bears to be out," he admitted.
Murray chuckled with amusement.
"Quite so, quite so! And so you visit us once more, Master Ormerod. I confess 'tis an unexpected pleasure which we shall strive to make the most of."
"Sir," I said earnestly, "it makes little difference to me what is my fate, but I conjure you by whatever pretensions to gentility you possess to give over your plan of selling your daughter."
He took snuff with his odd deliberation, and his face became as impassive as an Indian's.
"The words you choose for your appeal do not commend it to me," he returned. "Nor do I perceive what business of yours it may be to question my daughter's marriage."
Now, what put it in my head I know not, unless it was the fact that in her letter to me Marjory had spoken of him as "Mr. Murray"; but I leaped to the instant conclusion that she was not his daughter. Sure, no man could have disposed of his own daughter so cold-bloodedly!
"She is not your daughter in the first place," I retorted boldly. "And in the second place, she has expressed to me her abhorrence of the marriage, as you know."
His face revealed no expression but for a faint tremor of the eyelids.
"Zooks," he remarked mildly after an interval of silence, "'tis strong language that you use. You are a headstrong young man, Master Ormerod. Can it be that you have some personal interest in the matter?"
Again some instinct prompted me.
"I have," I asserted. "Your daughter prefers me to the man you would force upon her."
"Really," he replied, "you possess vast self-assurance. You are my deadly enemy, you have sought by every means to ruin me, you were caught in an attempt to depredate my home—yet you would pose as a suitor for my daughter's hand."
"She is not your daughter," I repeated. "And as a suitor, according to your estimates of the world's opinion, I am far more eligible than this Frenchman."
"You are scarcely wise to say so to his face, and I beg leave to differ with you. I find the Chevalier de Veulle a very eligible young man, of rank in the world, of achievement, of distinct promise for the future."
"If you can call a man eligible who was not even eligible for continued residence at the most profligate court in Europe, I agree with you."
"Tut, tut," remonstrated Murray. "Your words are not those of a gentleman, sir. We will abandon the subject. Where do you propose to incarcerate the prisoners,chevalier?"
"I would not risk them a second time in the keeping of the savages," said de Veulle. "Let us try your strong-room. There you and I can have an eye to their security."
"That is well conceived. Is there any news of Père Hyacinthe!"
"I have stationed a man at the river-crossing to bring word the instant he arrives."
"I applaud your thoughtfulness. This continued delay in the ceremony is annoying. Master Ormerod, your sufferings are upon your own head."
I looked eagerly for Marjory's face as we were marched across the yard inside the stockade and through the heavy timber doors of the house. But she was not visible. The house was sturdily built, evidently with an eye to defensibility, and the cellar beneath it, to which we were conducted, was floored with clay and walled with immense wooden slabs. Our guards examined our bonds carefully, fastened our legs and then left us, three of them sitting just outside the door at the foot of the stairs which ran down from the kitchen above.
We remained there three days, without intercourse with any one except our Indian jailers, who brought us messes of food twice daily. In that time the bump on my head was reduced and Ta-wan-ne-ars' cuts began to heal.
On the third day several Cahnuaga chiefs visited us and removed one of our Senecas with an assurance that he was destined for the torture-stake. The man laughed at their threats, and called back to his brothers that he would set them a good example. I do not doubt that he did.
On the fourth day we were eating our meager fare of boiled corn when the door was flung open violently and the gaunt figure of Black Robe entered unannounced. Behind him, obviously unwillingly, walked Murray.
"Which is the Englishman Ormerod?" demanded the priest in French.
"Here I am, father," I answered, standing up as well as I could.
"Mistress Murray tells me that you have won her affections?" he asked coldly.
My heart leaped with sudden joy.
"That is true, father," I said.
"And you love her!"
"As much as a man may, father."
He turned upon Murray with a gesture of decision.
"There!" he exclaimed. "You have it in the face. What do you expect of me? Would you have me violate God's sacrament by wedding a maid against her affections? Some priests might do so, but I will never! Marriage without affection is adultery."
Murray's discomfiture was comical. I was quick to seize the opportunity presented to me.
"He knows how we stand, father," I declared. "He himself asked me concerning it when I was brought here."
Père Hyacinthe bent upon Murray a glance of deep disdain.
"This is not well,monsieur," he said. "You have told me an untruth."
"You leap to conclusions, my good sir," returned Murray, who had now regained his poise. "The maid does not know her own mind. She is a conquest for the Church, and her alliance with the Chevalier de Veulle cements the great work we are undertaking together."
"I will have naught to do with it," responded the priest with decision. "Not even to admit her into the Church would I tolerate the fastening upon herself, her husband and myself of a mortal sin. As for the Chevalier de Veulle, I will say nothing at present. But I am not satisfied with everything here at La Vierge du Bois. I shall have more to say on that score later."
He went out and up the stairs, and Murray, after a moment's hesitation, followed him.
But our reprieve was brief. The next morning an augmented force of jailers appeared. The thongs on our arms were tightened; our legs were unlashed; and we were marched up into the wintry sunshine again, our eyes blinking at the unwonted light.
The village was deserted, and we perceived the reason when we reached the Council-Place and saw the long row of stakes which stretched before the background of the green firs of the Evil Wood. Jeers and cries of derision greeted us.
The False Faces strung their ill-omened circle around us, and the feather-tufted Keepers and their women and children pressed close to view the gruesome spectacle. We were bound to the stakes, Ta-wan-ne-ars and I in the middle of the line; and almost at once the torturing began upon the unfortunates at the two extremities. Their songs and shouts of defiance soon gave way to a sinister silence, as they fought with all their will-power to curb the agony which bade them cry for mercy.
The horror of it first sickened me, then flogged me into a red-hot tempest of anger. And in the midst of the orgy of bestiality Murray and de Veulle penetrated the circle of False Faces, with Marjory, white-faced, tight-lipped, between them. They walked up to the stake to which I was bound.
"I deeply regret, my dear," said Murray in a voice which was conscientiously paternal, "that you must be exposed to this spectacle——"
"'Tis no more distressing than the knowledge of your wickedness," she flashed. "You have overset my belief in a cause I had thought holy."
"Well, we will not talk politics, if you please," he replied. "I want you to realize now beyond question the fate which awaits this misguided young man upon whom you have been so ill-advised as to pin your affections."
"Would you like to walk nearer the other stakes and study what has been done to the Senecas upon whom the torture has been begun?" suggested de Veulle suavely.
She eyed him with such scorn that even he felt it, for his face hardened appreciably.
"No, sir," she answered; "I shall not be contributing to your entertainment any more than I can help."
Murray addressed me.
"We are making a bargain with the lady, Master Ormerod. She is to renounce her objections to de Veulle, own herself mistaken in her feeling of affection for you—and you are to be permitted to escape when she has sealed her engagements."
"Do not think of it, Marjory," I called to her. "I mind this not at all. And fear not. Help will come to you."
A tinge of color showed in her cheeks, and she stepped to my side.
"I can not let you die, Harry," she said with a sob. "Indeed I will not be able to stand the thinking of it. Better anything—better marriage to this beast—than—than—that!"
"You are wrong," I urged her. "You must not. I should go mad if you did. I should hate myself! I——"
I twisted my head toward Ta-wan-ne-ars beside me.
"Bid her not, brother," I appealed to him. "Tell her I do not fear to pay the price! And why should I escape if you——"
His granite features softened as his eyes met hers. But before he could speak the scene shifted with startling rapidity. There was a bulge in the ring of False Faces, and Ga-ha-no burst into the group.
Dressed in her uniform as Ga-go-sa Ho-nun-as-tase-ta, the kilt and moccasins, she fronted de Veulle with eyes blazing, breast heaving.
"Do you seek now to buy the white maiden with this man's life?" she stormed.
"You have no place here," he replied in the Cahnuaga dialect. "Go away. You will make——"
"You shall not!" she defied him. "You have had your pleasure with me. Now you would like to have a woman of your own color. You shall not! I have been bad. I have forgotten the ways of my fathers. I have betrayed a good man."
She threw a glance at Ta-wan-ne-ars, straining at his bonds.
"For that I am sorry, but it is too late!" she exclaimed. "White maiden," she cried to Marjory, "do not listen to this man. He is more wicked than I—and I am now a creature of Ha-ne-go-ate-geh!"
De Veulle waved his arm toward the attentive circle of False Faces.
"Remove the Mistress," he ordered. "She is hindering the torture."
The False Faces moved forward reluctantly, but Ga-ha-no acted without hesitation. A knife leaped from a fold of her kilt, and she sprang upon de Veulle like the wildcat to which he had likened her. He retreated, and ripped out his own knife.