The return of Lord H---- without his guide and companion, Captain Brooks, caused some surprise in Mr. Prevost and his daughter, who had not expected to see any of the party before a late hour of the following evening. Not choosing to explain, in the presence of Edith, the cause of his parting so suddenly from the hunter, the young nobleman merely said that circumstances had led him to conclude it would be advisable to send Woodchuck in the boat with Walter, to Albany, and his words were uttered in so natural and easy a tone that Edith, unconscious that her presence put any restraint upon his communication with her father, remained seated in their pleasant little parlor till the hour for the evening meal.
"Well, my lord," said Mr. Prevost, after the few first words of explanation had passed, "did you meet with any fresh specimens of the Indian in your short expedition?"
The question might have been a somewhat puzzling one for a man who did not want to enter into any particulars, but Lord H---- replied with easy readiness:
"Only one. Him we saw only for a moment, and he did not speak with us."
"They are a very curious race," said Mr. Prevost, "and albeit not very much given to ethnological studies, I have often puzzled myself as to whence they sprang, and how they made their way over to this continent."
Lord H---- smiled. "I fear I cannot help you," he said. "Mine is a coarse and unstudious profession, you know, my dear sir, and leads one much more to look at things as they are than to inquire how they came about. It strikes me at once, however, that in mere corporeal characteristics the Indian is very different from any race I ever beheld, if I may judge by the few individuals I have seen."
"Bating the grace and dignity," said Edith, gayly, "I do think that what my father would call the finest specimens of the human animal are to be found among the Indians. Look at our dear little Otaitsa, for instance. Can anything be more beautiful, more graceful, more perfect than her whole face and form?"
Lord H---- smiled and slightly bowed his head, saying: "Now many a fair lady, Miss Prevost, would naturally expect a very gallant reply, and I might make one without a compliment, in good cool blood, and upon calm, mature consideration. I am very poorly versed, however, in civil speeches, and therefore I will only say that I think I have seen white ladies as beautiful, as graceful, and as perfect as your fair young friend, together with the advantage of a better complexion. But at the same time I will admit that she is exceedingly beautiful, and not only that but very charming, and very interesting, too. Hers is not exactly the style of beauty I admire the most, but certainly hers is perfect in its kind, and my young friend Walter seems to think so, too."
A slight flush passed over Edith's cheek, and her eyes instantly turned toward her father. But Mr. Prevost only laughed, saying: "If they were not so young, I should be afraid that my son would marry the sachem's daughter, and perhaps in the end take to the tomahawk and the scalping knife. But joking apart, Otaitsa is a very singular little creature. I never can bring myself to feel that she is an Indian--a savage, in short, when I hear her low, melodious voice, with its peculiar song-like sort of intonation, and see the grace and dignity with which she moves, and the ease and propriety with which she adapts herself to every European custom. I have to look at her bead-embroidered petticoat and her leggings and moccasins before I can bring it home to my mind that she is not some very high-bred lady of the court of France or England. Then she is so fair, too; but that is probably from care, and the lack of that exposure to the sun which may at first have given and then perpetuated the Indian tint. To use an old homely expression, she is the apple of her father's eye, and he is as careful of her as of a jewel, after his own particular fashion."
"She is a dear creature," said Edith, warmly, "all soul, and heart, and feeling. Thank God, too, she is a Christian, and you cannot fancy, my lord, what marvellous stores of information the little creature has. She knows that England is an island in the midst of the salt sea, and she can write and read our tongue nearly as well as she speaks it. She has a holy hatred of the French, however, and would not speak a word of their language for the world, for all her information and a good share of her ideas come from our good friend Mr. Gore, who has carried John Bull completely into the heart of the wilderness and kept him there perfect in a sort of crystallized state. Had we but a few more men such as himself amongst the Indian tribes, there would be no fear of any wavering in the friendship of the Five Nations. There goes an Indian now past the window. We shall have him in here in a moment, for they stand upon no ceremony--no, he is speaking to Antony, the negro boy. How curiously he peeps about him--he must be looking for somebody he does not find."
Lord H---- rose and went to the window, and in a minute or two after the Indian stalked quietly away and disappeared in the forest.
"What could he want?" said Edith. "It is strange he did not come in. I will ask Antony what he sought here," and going to the door she called the gardener boy up and questioned him.
"He want Captain Woodchuck, Missa," replied the lad. "He ask if he not lodge here last night. I tell him yes, but Woodchuck go away early this morning, and not come back since. He 'quire very much about him, and who went with him. I tell him Massa Walter and de strange gentleman, but both leave him soon. Massa Walter go straight to Albany, strange gentleman come back here."
"Did he speak English?" asked Edith.
"Few words," replied the negro. "I speak few words Indian. So patch 'em together make many, missy;" and he laughed with that peculiar, unmeaning laugh with which his race are accustomed to distinguish anything they consider witty.
The whole conversation was heard by the two gentlemen within. On Mr. Prevost it had no effect but to call a cynical smile upon his lips, but the case was different with Lord H----. He saw that the deed which had been done in the forest was known to the Indians; that its doer had been recognized, and that the hunt was up; and he rejoiced to think that poor Woodchuck was already far beyond pursuit. Anxious, however, to gain a fuller insight into the character and habits of a people of whom, as yet, he had obtained but a glimpse, he continued to converse with Mr. Prevost in regard to the aboriginal races, and learned several facts which by no means tended to decrease the uneasiness which the events of the morning had produced.
"The Indians," said his host, in answer to a leading question, "are, as you say, a very revengeful people, but not more so than many other barbarous nations. Indeed, in many of their feelings and habits they greatly resemble a people I have heard of in central Asia, called Alghanns. Both, in common with almost all barbarians, look upon revenge as a duty imperative upon every family and every tribe. They modify their ideas, indeed, in case of war, although it is very difficult to bring about peace after war has commenced; but if any individual of a tribe is killed by another person in time of peace, nothing but the blood of the murderer can satisfy the family or the tribe, if he can be caught. They will pursue him for weeks and months, and employ every stratagem which their fertile brains can suggest to entrap him, till they feel quite certain that he is beyond their reach. This perseverance proceeds from a religious feeling, for they believe that the spirit of their dead relation can never enter the happy hunting grounds till his blood has been atoned for by that of the slayer."
"But if they cannot catch the slayer," asked Lord H----, "what do they do then?"
"I used a wrong expression," replied Mr. Prevost. "I should have said the blood of some other victim. It is their duty, according to their ideas, to sacrifice the slayer. If satisfied that he is perfectly beyond their power, they strive to get hold of his nearest relation. If they cannot do that, they take a man of his tribe or nation and sacrifice him. It is all done very formally, and with all sorts of consideration and consultation, for in these bloody rites they are the most deliberate people in the world, and the most persevering, also."
A few days before, Lord H---- might have plainly and openly told all the occurrences of the morning in the ears of Edith Prevost, but sensations had been springing up in his breast which made him more tender of her feelings, more careful of creating alarm and anxiety, and he kept his painful secret well till after the evening meal was over, and she had retired to her chamber. Then, however, he stopped Mr. Prevost just as that gentleman was raising a light to hand to his guest, and said: "I am afraid, my good friend, we cannot go to bed just yet. I have something to tell you which, from all I have heard since it occurred, appears to me of much greater importance than at first. Whether anything can be done to avert the evil consequences, or not, I cannot tell; but at all events, it is as well that you and I should talk the matter over."
He then related to Mr. Prevost all the events of the morning, and was sorry to perceive that gentleman's face assuming a deeper and deeper gloom as he proceeded.
"This is most unfortunate, indeed," said Mr. Prevost, at length. "I quite acquit our poor friend Brooks of any evil intent, but to slay an Indian at all, so near our house, and especially an Oneida, was most unlucky. That tribe or nation, as they call themselves, from the strong personal regard, I suppose, which has grown up accidentally between their chief and myself, has always shown the greatest kindness and friendship toward myself and my family. Before this event I should have felt myself in any of their villages as much at home as by my own fireside, and I am sure that each man felt himself as secure on any part of the lands granted to me as if he were in his own lodge. But now, as they will call it, their blood has stained my very mat, and the consequences no one can foresee. Woodchuck has himself escaped. He has no relations or friends on whom they can wreak their vengeance."
"Surely," exclaimed Lord H----, "they will never visit his offence on you or yours?"
"I trust not," replied Mr. Prevost, after a moment's thought, "but yet I cannot feel exactly sure. They will take a white man for their victim--an Englishman--one of the same nation as the offender. Probably it may not matter much to them who it is, and the affectionate regard which they entertain toward us may turn the evil aside. But yet these Indians have a sort of fanaticism in their religion, as well as we have in ours--the station and the dignity of the victim which they offer up enters into their consideration--they like to make a worthy and an honorable sacrifice, as they consider it; and just as this spirit moves them or not, they may think that anyone will do for their purpose, or that they are required by their god of vengeance to immolate someone dear to themselves, in order to dignify the sacrifice."
"This is indeed a very sad view of the affair which had never struck me," replied Lord H----, "and it may be well to consider, my dear sir, what is the best and the safest course. I must now tell you one of the objects which made me engage your son to carry my dispatches to Albany. It seemed to me, from all I have heard during my short residence with you, especially during my conference with Sir William Johnson, that the unprotected state of this part of the country left Albany itself and the settlements around it unpleasantly exposed. We know that on a late occasion it was Dieskau's intention, if he had succeeded in defeating Sir William and capturing Fort George, to make a dash at the capital of the province. He was defeated, but there is reason to believe that Montcalm, a man much his superior both in energy and skill, entertained the same views, although I know not what induced him to retreat so hastily after his black and bloody triumph at Fort William Henry. He may seize some other opportunity, and I can perceive nothing whatsoever to impede his progress or delay him for an hour, if he can make himself master of the few scattered forts which lie between Albany and Carrillon or Ticonderoga. In the circumstances, I have strongly urged that a small force should be thrown forward to a commanding point on the river Hudson, not many miles from this place, which I examined as I came hither, with an advanced post or two still nearer to your house. My own regiment I have pointed out as better fitted for the service than any other, and I think that if my suggestions are attended to, as I doubt not they will be, we can give you efficient protection. But I think," continued the young nobleman, speaking more slowly and emphatically, "that with two young people so justly dear to you--with a daughter so beautiful and in every way so charming, and so gallant and noble a lad as Walter, whose high spirit and adventurous character will expose him continually to any snares that may be set for him, it will be much better for you to retire with them both to Albany, at least till such time as you know that the spirit of Indian vengeance has been satisfied, and that the real peril has passed."
Mr. Prevost mused for several minutes, and then replied: "The motives you suggest are certainly very strong, my lord, but I have strange ways of viewing such subjects, and I must have time to consider whether it is fair and right to my fellow countrymen scattered over this district to withdraw from my share of the peril which all who remain would have to encounter. Do not argue with me upon the subject to-night--I will think over it well, and doubt not that I shall view the plan you have suggested with all the favor that paternal love can afford. I will also keep my mind free to receive any further reasons you may have to produce. But I must first consider quietly and alone. There is no need of immediate decision, for these people, according to their own code, are bound to make themselves perfectly sure that they cannot get possession of the actual slayer before they choose another victim. It is clear from what the Indian said to the negro boy, that they know the hand that did the deed, and they must search for poor Brooks first, and practice every device to allure him back before they immolate another. Let us both think over the matter well and confer to-morrow."
Thus saying, he shook hands with Lord H----, and they retired to their several chambers with very gloomy and apprehensive thoughts.
Next morning Mr. Prevost was aroused by a distant knocking at the huts where the outdoor servants slept, and then by a repetition of the sound at the door of the house itself. Rising hastily, he got down in time to see the door opened by old Agrippa, and found a man on horseback bearing a large official-looking letter addressed to Major-General Lord H----.
It proved to be a dispatch from Sir William Johnson, requesting both Lord H---- and himself to attend a meeting of some of the chiefs of the Five Nations, which was to be held at Johnson Castle, on the Mohawk, in the course of the following day. The distance was not very great, but still the difficulty of traveling required the two gentlemen to set out at once in order to reach the place of rendezvous before night, and neither liked to neglect what they considered a duty.
"I will mount my horse as soon as it can be got ready," said Lord H----, when he had read the letter and shown it to Mr. Prevost. "I suppose, in existing circumstances, you will not think it advisable to accompany me?"
"Most certainly I will go with you, my lord," replied his host. "As I said last night, the danger, though very certain, is not immediate. Weeks, months may pass before these Indians feel assured that they cannot obtain possession of the actual slayer of their red brother; and as many of the Oneidas will probably be present at this talk, as they call it, I may perhaps (though it is very doubtful) gain some insight into their thoughts and intentions. I will take my daughter with me, however, for I should not like to leave her here altogether alone. Her preparations may delay us for half an hour, but still we have ample time, and the horse of the messenger, who will act as our guide, must have some little time to take rest and food."
A very brief time was spent at breakfast, and then the whole party set out on horseback, followed by a negro leading a pack-horse, and preceded by the messenger of Sir William Johnson. Mr. Prevost, the messenger, and the negro, were all armed; but Lord H----, who had hitherto worn nothing but the common riding suit in which he had first presented himself, except in his unfortunate expedition with Captain Brooks, had now donned the splendid uniform of a major-general in the British service, and was merely armed with his sword and pistols in the holsters of his saddle.
The journey passed without incident. Not a human being was seen for seventeen or eighteen miles, though here and there a small log hut, apparently deserted, testified to the efforts of a new race to wrest their hunting grounds from an earlier people--efforts too soon, too sadly, and too cruelly to be consummated. The softer light of early morning died away, and then succeeded a warmer period of the day, when the heat became very oppressive; for in the midst of those deep forests, with no wind stirring, the change from summer to winter is not felt so rapidly as in more open lands. About an hour after noon they proposed to stop, rest the horses, and take some refreshment, and a spot was selected where some fine oaks spread their large limbs over a beautifully clear little lake or pond, the view across which presented peeps of a distant country, with some blue hills of no very great elevation appearing above the tops of the trees.
At the end of an hour the party again mounted and pursued their way, still on through forests and valleys, across streams and by the sides of lakes, till at length, just as the evening sun was reaching the horizon, a visible change took place in the aspect of the country: spots were seen which had been cultivated, where harvests had grown and been reaped, and then a house gleamed here and there through the forest, and blue wreaths of smoke might be seen rising up. Tracks of cart wheels channeled the forest path; a cart or wagon was drawn up near the roadside; high piles of firewood showed preparation against the bitter winter; and everything indicated that the travelers were approaching some new but prosperous settlement.
Soon all traces of the primeval woods, except those which the little party left behind them, disappeared, and a broad tract of well cultivated country spread out before them, with a fine river bounding it at the distance of more than a mile. The road, too, was comparatively good and broad, and half way between the forest and the river that road divided into two, one branch going straight on, and another leading up the course of the stream.
"Is Sir William at the Hall or at his Castle?" asked Mr. Prevost, raising his voice to reach the ears of his guide, who kept a little in front.
"He said, sir, to take you on to the Hall if you should come on, sir," replied the messenger. "There is a great number of Indians up at the Castle already, and he thought you might perhaps not like to be with them altogether."
"Probably not," replied Mr. Prevost, drily; and they rode on upon the direct road till, passing two or three smaller houses, they came in sight of a very large and handsome edifice, built of wood indeed, but somewhat in the style of a European house of the reign of George the First. As they approached the gates, Sir William Johnson himself, now in the full costume of an officer of the British army, came down the steps to meet and welcome them; and little less ceremonious politeness did he display in the midst of the wild woods of America than if he had been at the moment in the halls of St. James's. With stately grace he lifted Edith from her horse, greeted Lord H---- with a deferential bow, shook Mr. Prevost by the hand, and then led them himself to rooms which seemed to have been prepared for them.
"Where is my friend Walter?" he said, as he was about to leave Mr. Prevost to some short repose. "What has induced him to deny his old acquaintance the pleasure of his society? Ha, Mr. Prevost, does he think to find metal more attractive at your lonely dwelling? Perhaps he may be mistaken, for let me tell you the beautiful Otaitsa is here--here in this very house; for our good friend Gore has so completely Anglified her, that what between her Christianity, her beauty, and her delicacy, I believe she is afraid to trust herself with four or five hundred red warriors at the Castle."
He spoke in a gay and jesting tone, and everyone knows the blessed facility which parents have of shutting their eyes to the love affairs of their children. Mr. Prevost did not in the least perceive anything in the worthy general's speech but a good-humored joke at the boyish fondness of his son for a pretty Indian girl, and he hastened to excuse Walter's absence by telling Sir William that he had been sent to Albany on business by Lord H----. He then inquired, somewhat anxiously: "Is our friend the Black Eagle here with his daughter?"
"He is here on the ground," replied Sir William, "but not in the house. His Indian habits are of too old standing to be rooted out like Otaitsa's, and he prefers a bearskin and his own blue blanket to the best bed and quilt in the house. I offered him such accommodation as it afforded, but he declined, with the dignity of a prince refusing the hospitality of a cottage."
"Does he seem in a good humor to-day?" asked Mr. Prevost, hesitating whether he should tell Sir William at a moment when they were likely to be soon interrupted, the event which had caused so much apprehension in his own mind. "You know he is somewhat variable in his mood."
"I never remarked it," replied the other. "I think he is the most civilized savage I ever saw, far more than King Hendrick, though the one, since his father's death, wears a blue coat and the other does not. He did seem a little grave indeed, but the shadows of Indian mirth and gravity are so faint, it is difficult to distinguish them."
While these few words were passing Mr. Prevost had decided upon his course, and he merely replied: "Well, Sir William, pray let Otaitsa know that Edith is here; they will soon be in each other's arms, for the two girls love like sisters."
A few words sprung to Sir William Johnson's lips, which, had they been uttered, might perhaps have opened Mr. Prevost's eyes, at least to the suspicions of his friend. He was on the eve of answering, "And some day they may be sisters," but he checked himself, and nothing but the smile which should have accompanied the words made any reply.
When left alone, the thoughts of Mr. Prevost reverted at once to more pressing considerations. "The old chief knows the event," he said to himself; "he has heard of it--heard the whole, probably--it is wonderful how rapidly intelligence is circulated amongst this people from mouth to mouth."
He was well nigh led away into speculations regarding the strange celerity with which news can be carried orally, and was beginning to calculate how much distance to travel would be saved in a given space, by one man shouting the tidings to another at a distance, when he forced back his mind into the track it had left, and came to the full conclusion from his knowledge of the character of the parties, and from all that he had heard, that certainly the Black Eagle was cognizant of the death of one of his tribe by the hand of Captain Brooks, and probably--though not certainly--had communicated the facts, but not his views and purposes, to his daughter, whose keen eyes were likely to discover much of that which he intended to conceal.
There was a curious and motley assembly, that night, in the halls of Sir William Johnson. There were several ladies and gentlemen from Albany, several young military men, and two or three persons of a class now extinct, but who then drove a thriving commerce, and whose peculiar business it was to trade with the Indians. Some of the latter were exceedingly well educated men, and one or two of them were persons not only of enlightened minds, but of enlarged views and heart. The others were mere brutal speculators, whose whole end and object in life was to wring as much from the savages and give as little in return as possible. Besides these, an Indian chief would, from time to time, appear in the rooms, often marching through in perfect silence, observing all that was going on with dignified gravity, and then going back to his companions at the Castle. Amongst the rest was Otaitsa, still in her Indian costume, but evidently in gala dress, of the finest cloth and the most elaborate embroidery. Not only was she perfectly at her ease, talking to everyone, laughing with many; but the sort of shrinking, timid tenderness which gave her so great a charm in the society of the few whom she loved had given place to a wild spirit of gaiety but little in accordance with the character of her nation.
She glided hither and thither through the room; she rested in one place hardly for a moment; her jests were as light, and sometimes as sharp as those of almost any Parisian dame; and when one of the young officers ventured to speak to her somewhat lightly as the mere Indian girl, she piled upon him a mass of ridicule that wrung tears of laughter from the eyes of one or two older men standing near.
"I know not what has come to the child to-night," said Mr. Gore, who was seated near Edith in one of the rooms; "a wild spirit seems to have seized upon her, which is quite unlike her whole character and nature--unlike the character of her people, too, or I might think that the savage had returned notwithstanding all my care."
"Perhaps it is the novelty and excitement of the scene," said Edith.
"Oh no," answered the missionary, "there is nothing new in this scene to her. She has been at these meetings several times during the last two or three years, but never seemed to yield to their influence as she has done to-night."
"She has hardly spoken a word to me," said Edith. "I hope she will not forget the friends who love her."
"No fear of that, my dear," replied Mr. Gore, "Otaitsa is all heart, and that heart a gentle one; under its influence is she acting now. It throbs with something that we do not know; and those light words that make us smile to hear, have sources deep within her--perhaps of bitterness."
"I think I have heard her say," answered Edith, "that you educated her from her childhood."
"When first I joined the people of the Stone," replied the missionary, "I found her there a young child of three years old. Her mother was just dead, and although her father bore his grief with the stern, gloomy stoicism of his nation, and neither suffered tear to fall nor sigh to escape his lips, I could see plainly enough that he was struck with grief such as the Indian seldom feels and never shows. He received me most kindly, and made my efforts with his people easy; and though I know not to this hour whether with himself I have been successful in communicating blessed light, he gave his daughter altogether up to my charge, and with her I have not failed. I fear in him the savage is too deeply rooted to be ever wrung forth, but her I have made one of Christ's flock indeed."
It seemed as if by a sort of instinct that Otaitsa discovered that she was the subject of conversation between her two friends. Twice she looked around at them from the other side of the room, and then she glided across and seated herself beside Edith. For a moment she sat in silence there, and then leaning her head gracefully on her beautiful companion's shoulder, she said in a low whisper: "Do not close thine eyes this night, my sister, till thou seest me;" and then starting up, she mingled with the little crowd again.
It was still early in the night when Edith retired to the chamber assigned for her; for even in the most fashionable society of those times, people had not learned to drive the day into the night, and make morning and evening meet. Her room was a large and handsome one, and though plainly, it was sufficiently furnished. No forest, as at her dwelling, interrupted the beams of the rising moon, and she sat and contemplated the ascent of the queen of night as she soared grandly over the distant trees. The conduct of Otaitsa during that night had puzzled her, and the few whispered words had excited her curiosity, for it must not be forgotten that Edith was altogether unacquainted with the fact of one of the Oneidas having been slain by the hands of Captain Brooks within little more than two miles of her own abode. She proceeded to make her toilet for the night, however, and was almost undressed when she heard the door of her room open quietly, and Otaitsa stole in and cast her arms around her.
"Ah, my sister," she said, "I have longed to talk with you;" and seating herself by her side, she leaned her head again upon Edith's shoulder, but remained silent for several minutes. The fair English girl knew that it was better to let her take her own time and her own way to speak whatever she had to say, but Otaitsa remained so long without uttering a word that an undefinable feeling of alarm spread over her young companion. She felt her bosom heave as if with struggling sighs, she even felt some warm drops like tears fall upon her shoulder, and yet Otaitsa remained without speaking, till at length Edith said, in a gentle and encouraging tone: "What is it, my sister? There can surely be nothing you should be afraid to utter to my ear."
"Not afraid," answered Otaitsa, and then she relapsed into silence again.
"But why do you weep, my sweet Blossom?" said Edith, after pausing for a moment or two to give her time to recover her composure.
"Because one of your people has killed one of my people," answered the Indian girl, sorrowfully. "Is not that enough to make me weep?"
"Indeed," exclaimed Edith, "I am much grieved to hear it, Blossom; but when did this happen, and how?"
"It happened but yesterday," replied the girl, "and but a little toward the morning from your own house, my sister. It was a sad day! It was a sad day!"
"But I trust it was none near and dear to the Blossom or to the Black Eagle," said Edith, putting her arms around her and trying to soothe her.
"No, no," answered Otaitsa, "he was a bad man, a treacherous man, one whom my father loved not. But that matters little. They will have blood for his blood."
The truth flashed upon Edith's mind at once; for though less acquainted with the Indian habits than her brother or her father, she knew enough of their revengeful spirit to feel sure that they would seek the death of the murderer with untiring eagerness, and she questioned her sweet companion earnestly as to all the particulars of the sad tale. Otaitsa told her all she knew, which was indeed nearly all that could be told. The man called the Snake, she said, had been shot by the white man Woodchuck, in the wood to the northeast of Mr. Prevost's house. Intimation of the fact had spread like fire in dry grass through the whole of the Oneidas, who were flocking to the meeting at Sir William Johnson's Castle, and from them it would run through the whole tribe.
"Woodchuck has escaped," she said, "or he would have been slain ere now; but they will have his life yet, my sister;" and then she added, slowly and sorrowfully, "or the life of some other white man, if they cannot catch this one."
The words presented to Edith's mind a sad and terrible idea--one more fearful in its vagueness and uncertainty of outline than in the darkness of particular points. That out of a narrow and limited population someone was foredoomed to be slain; that out of a small body of men, all feeling almost as brethren, one was to be marked out for slaughter; that one family was to lose husband or father or brother, and no one could tell which, made her feel like one out of a herd of wild animals cooped up within the toils of the hunters.
Edith's first object was to learn more from her young companion, but Otaitsa had told almost all she knew.
"What they will do I know not," she said; "they do not tell us women. But I fear, Edith, I fear very much; for they say our brother Walter was with the Woodchuck when the deed was done."
"Not so! not so!" cried Edith. "Had he been so, I should have heard of it. He has gone to Albany, and had he been present I am sure he would have stopped it if he could. If your people tell truth they will acknowledge that he was not there."
Otaitsa raised her head suddenly with a look of joy, exclaiming: "I will make her tell the truth were she as cunning a snake as he was--but yet, my sister Edith, someone will have to die if they find not the man they seek."
The last words were spoken in a melancholy tone again; but then she started up, repeating, "I will make her tell the truth."
"Can you do so?" asked Edith. "Snakes are always very crafty."
"I will try at least," answered the girl; "but oh, my sister, it were better for you and Walter, and your father, too, to be away. When a storm is coming, we try to save what is most precious. There is yet ample time to go, for the red people are not rash, and do not act hastily, as you white people do."
"But is there no means," asked Edith, "of learning what the intention of the nation really is?"
"I know of none," answered the girl, "that can be depended upon with certainty. The people of the Stone change no more than the stone from which they sprang. The storm beats upon them, the sun shines upon them, and there is little difference on the face of the rock. Yet let your father watch well when he is at the great talk tomorrow. Then if the priest is very smooth and soft-spoken, and if the Black Eagle is stern and silent, wraps his blanket over his left breast, be sure that something sad is meditated. That is all that I can tell you--but I will make this woman speak the truth if there be truth in her, and that, too, before the chiefs of the nation. Now, sister, lie down to rest. Otaitsa is going at once to her people."
"But are you not afraid?" asked Edith. "It is a dark night, dear Blossom. Lie down with me and wait the morning sunshine."
"I have no fear," answered the Indian girl; "nothing will hurt me. There are times, sister, when a spirit enters into us that defies all and fears nothing. So it has been with me this night. The only thing I dreaded to face was my own thought, and it I would not suffer to rest upon anything till I had spoken with you. Now, however, I have better hopes. I will go forth and I will make her tell the truth."
Thus saying, she left Edith's chamber, and about an hour and a half after she might be seen standing beside her father, who was seated near a fire kindled in one corner of the court attached to a large house, or rather fort, built by Sir William Johnson on the banks of the Mohawk, and called by him his Castle. Round the sachem, forming a complete circle, sat a number of the head men of the Oneidas, each in that peculiar crouching position which has been rendered familiar to our eyes by numerous paintings. The court and the Castle itself were well nigh filled with Indians of other tribes of the Five Nations, but none took any part in the proceedings of the Oneidas but themselves, and the only stranger who was present in the circle was Sir William Johnson. He was still fully dressed in his British uniform, and seated on a chair in an attitude of much dignity, with his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword. With the exception of that weapon he had no arms whatever; and indeed it was his custom to sleep frequently in the midst of his red friends utterly unarmed and defenceless. The occasion seemed a solemn one, for all faces were very grave, and a complete silence prevailed for several minutes.
"Bring in the woman," said Black Eagle, at length; "bring her in, and let her speak the truth."
"Of what do you accuse her, Otaitsa?" asked Sir William Johnson, fixing his eyes upon his beautiful guest.
"Of lying to the sachem and to her brethren," answered Otaitsa. "Her breath has been full of the poison of the Snake."
"Thou hearest," said the Black Eagle, turning to a woman of some one or two and twenty years of age. "What sayest thou?"
"I lie not," answered the woman, in the Indian tongue. "I saw him lift the rifle and shoot my brother dead."
"Who did it?" asked Black Eagle, gravely and calmly.
"The Woodchuck," answered the woman. "He did it. I know his face too well."
"Believe her not," answered Otaitsa, "the Woodchuck was ever a friend of our nation. He is our brother. He would not slay an Oneida."
"But he was my brother's enemy," answered the woman. "There was vengeance between them."
"Vengeance on thy brother's part," answered the old chief. "More likely he to slay the Woodchuck than the Woodchuck to slay him."
"If she have a witness, let her bring him forward," said Otaitsa. "We will believe her by the tongue of another."
"I have none," cried the woman, vehemently; "none was present but ourselves, but I saw him kill my brother with my own eyes, and I cry for his blood."
"Didst thou not say that there were two white men with him?" asked Otaitsa, raising up her right hand. "Then in this thou hast lied to the sachem and thy brethren, and who shall say whether thou speakest the truth now."
A curious sort of drowsy hum ran round the circle of the Indians, and one old man said: "She has spoken well."
The woman, in the meanwhile, stood silent and abashed, with her eyes fixed upon the ground, and Black Eagle said in a grave tone: "There was none?"
"No," said the woman, lifting her look firmly, "there was none; but I saw two others in the wood hard by, and I was sure they were his companions."
"That is guile," said Black Eagle, sternly. "Thou didst say that there were two men with him, one the young paleface, Walter, and the other a tall stranger, and brought a cloud over our eyes, and made us think that they were present at the death."
"Then methinks, Black Eagle," said Sir William Johnson, using their language nearly as fluently as his own, "there is no faith to be put in the woman's story, and we cannot tell what has happened."
"Not so, my brother," answered Black Eagle. "We know that the Snake was slain yesterday, before the sun had reached the pine tops. We believe, too, that the Woodchuck slew him, for there was an enmity between them; and the ball which killed him was a large ball, such as we have never seen but in that man's pouch."
"That is doubtful evidence," said Sir William, "and I trust my brother will let vengeance cease till he have better witnesses."
The Indians remained profoundly silent for more than a minute, and then the old man who had spoken once before, replied: "If our brother will give us up Woodchuck, vengeance shall cease."
"That I cannot do," answered Sir William Johnson. "First, I have no power; secondly, he may be tried by our laws; but I will not lie to you. If he can show he did it in self-defence, he will be set free."
Again there was a long silence, and then Black Eagle rose, saying: "We must take counsel."
His face was very grave, and as he spoke he drew the large blue blanket which covered his shoulders over his left breast, with the gesture which Otaitsa had described to Edith, as indicating some dark determination. Sir William Johnson marked the signs he saw, and was too well acquainted with Indian character to believe that their thirst for blood was at all allayed; but neither by expression of countenance, nor by words, did he show any doubt of his red friends, and slept amongst them calmly that night without a fear of the result.
At an early hour on the following morning all the arrangements were made for the great council, or talk, that was about to be held. Some large armchairs were brought forth into the court. A few soldiers were seen moving about, and some negro servants. A number of the guests from the Hall came up about nine o'clock, most of them on horseback; but when all were assembled, the body of white men present were few and insignificant when compared with the multitude of Indians who surrounded them. No one showed or entertained any fear, however, and the conference commenced and passed off with perfect peace and harmony.
It is true that several of the Indian chiefs, and more especially King Hendrick, as he was called, the son of the chief who had been killed near Fort George a year or two before, had made some complaints against the British government for neglect of the just claims of their red allies. All angry feeling, however, was removed by a somewhat large distribution of presents, and after hearing everything which the Indians had to say, Sir William Johnson rose from the chair in which he had been seated, between Lord H---- and Mr. Prevost, and addressed the assembly in English, according to his invariable custom, when called upon to deal publicly with the heads of the Five Nations, the speech being translated, sentence for sentence, by an interpreter. The whole of his address cannot be given here, but it was skillfully turned to suit the prejudices and conciliate the friendship of the people to whom he spoke. He said that their English father, King George, loved his red children with peculiar affection, but as his lodge was a long way off, he could not always know their wants and wishes. He had very lately, however, shown his great tenderness and consideration for the Five Nations by appointing him, Sir William Johnson, as Indian agent, to make known as speedily as possible all that his red children desired. He then drew a glowing picture of the greatness and majesty of the English monarch, as the Attotarho of chief leader of a thousand different nations, sitting under a pine tree that reached to the sky, and receiving every minute messages from his children in every part of the earth.
A hum of satisfaction from the Indians followed this flight of fancy, and the speaker went on to say that this great chief, their father, had long ago intended to do much for them, and still intended to do so, but that the execution of his benevolent purposes had been delayed and impeded by the machinations of the French, their enemies and his, whom he represented as stealthily lying in wait for all the ships and convoys of goods and presents which were destined for his Indian children, and possessing themselves of them by force or fraud. Rich as he might be, he asked how was it possible that their white father could supply all their wants when he had so many to provide for, and when so many of his enemies had dug up the tomahawk at once. If the chiefs of the Five Nations, however, he said, would vigorously aid him in his endeavors, King George would speedily drive the French from America; and to show his intention of so doing, he had sent over the great chief on his left hand, Lord H----, and many other mighty warriors, to fight side by side with their red brethren. More, he said, would come on in the ensuing spring, and with the first flower that blossomed under the hemlock trees the English warriors would be ready for the battle, if the Indian chiefs then present would promise them cordial support and co-operation.
It must not be supposed that in employing very exaggerated language Sir William had any intention of deceiving. He merely used figures suited to the comprehension of his auditors, and his speech gave the very highest satisfaction. The unusually large presents which had been distributed, the presence and bearing of the young nobleman, and a natural weariness of the state of semi-neutrality between the French and the English, which they had maintained for some time, disposed the chiefs to grant the utmost he could desire, and the conference broke up with the fullest assurance of support from the heads of the Iroquois tribes--assurances which were faithfully made good in the campaigns which succeeded.