On the very same night which was passed by Edith Prevost in the lodge of the Black Eagle, some eight or ten wild-looking savages, if they could be so called, assembled, apparently to deliberate upon a great and important question. The place they took for their meeting lay nearly twenty miles in a direct line from the Oneida Lake, and was, even in the daylight, a scene of remarkable beauty and grandeur. At the hour of their meeting, however, which was about forty minutes after the sun went down, the surrounding objects were illuminated by a different and more appropriate light. Their council fire had been kindled on the top of a large, flat mass of stone, fallen from the high rocks of a very narrow dell or pass separating a rugged and forest-bearing mountain from a spur of the same range, which seemed to have been riven off from the parent chain by some rude and terrible convulsion of nature. Forty yards, at the widest part, was the expanse of this fissure, and on either side were huge masses of rock tumbled about in chaotic confusion, and blocking up the greater part of the bottom of the dell.
About half way through the glen was the large, flat stone, a sort of natural altar, on which the Indians had lighted their fire, and strange and wild was the scene as those swarthy men, armed as if for battle, but not painted, sat around in the broad glare, each with his rifle resting on his arm, and each still and motionless as if a statue hewn out from the brown rock. Up went the towering flame from the great pile of dry wood, sending a flickering light over tree and precipice; and yet no one stirred, no one spoke for several minutes. Each eye was fixed upon the fire, not as if watching it as an object of interest, but with the steady, thoughtful gaze which showed that the mind was busy with other things; and there was something very awful in that stone-cold silence.
At length the Black Eagle began to speak, without moving from his seat, however, at least at first. His tone, too, was low and sad, though every word, in the sharp guttural language of the Iroquois, was clear and distinct:
"For more than fifty winters," he said, "I have hovered over the land of the Oneidas, and my wing has not failed in its flight, my eyes have not been dazzled by the blaze of the sun, nor dimmed by the light of the moon. The dew has fallen upon me, and the summer's sun and the winter's snow, and still are my feathers unruffled, and my flight as strong as in my youth. I am not a woman, that I should spare, nor a child, that I should weep. Who has seen a tear in my eye, or who has seen the tomahawk uplifted not to strike? Have I asked anything of my children but to be the first in the battle? Have I ever forgiven the enemies of the children of the Stone? But we have made alliance with a great nation; we have taken presents from them; we have promised them to live with them as brothers in the time of peace, to go to battle with them as brothers in the time of war. Our children are their children, and their children are ours. Moreover, with some of this nation our chiefs have entered into more strict bonds of friendship. We have sat by their fires, we have smoked the pipe of peace together; we are their brothers. One family came and built their lodge amongst us, swept down the forest, and planted the cornfield. Their door was always open to the redman, their food was always shared with him. They said not, 'This is mine and that is thine,' but they opened their arms, and they said, 'Thou art my brother.' The children of the Stone loved them well. They were dear to the Black Eagle as his own eaglets. The mat in the house of Prevost was a pleasant resting place to his forehead when he was tired. His daughter was as my daughter, and his son as of my blood and bone. A man came to his hearth whom we all know, a good man, a friend to the redman. Should my brother Prevost refuse to the Woodchuck room to burrow for one night? He went away, and far from the house of our brother he met an Oneida of the totem of the Tortoise, a man who had robbed him, and who had a lying tongue; a snake, who hated him whom he had stung. The tomahawk was bare, and the Oneida was killed; but the man took not his scalp, he sung no song of triumph over the children of the Stone. He slew him not as an enemy, but in self-defence, otherwise he would have twisted his finger in the scalp-lock, and the Oneidas would have mourned over a disgrace. It is right that there should be blood for blood, that the man who sheds the blood of the redman should die for his act, and that if he or none of his relatives could be found, some other man of his nation should be made the sacrifice. But what have I done that the son of my brother should be taken? Have I led you so often in the battle, have I covered my war post with the scalps of your enemies, that the tree I planted should be rooted up when the forest is full of worthless saplings? Was there no other white man to be found in the land, that you must take the child of him who loved and trusted us? Had a moon passed, had a week, that you might know that there was none but the beloved of the Black Eagle whom you might use for your sacrifice? Had you made sure, even, that you could not catch the murderer himself, and take his blood in requital of the blood he shed? Is the wisdom of our people gone by is their cunning a thing of other days, that they could not lure the man they sought into their power, that they could not hunt any other game, that they not even try to find anyone but the one we loved the best? Remember, my children, that you are not rash and hasty, like the paleface, but that you are the children of the Stone; and though, like it, immovable and strong, you should be calm and still, likewise. I have said."
There was a pause of several minutes before anyone answered, and then a man of the middle age, not so tall as the Black Eagle by several inches, but with a particularly cunning and serpent-like look about his eyes, rose slowly from his seat, and, standing on the very point of the rock where he was placed, said in a hard, cold tone:
"The Black Eagle has spoken well. We are allies of the white man. The paleface calls us his brother. He takes our hunting grounds. He plants corn and feeds oxen amongst us. Where our foot was free to go is ours no longer; it is his. He has taken it from us and he is our brother. The Black Eagle loves the paleface. He took a paleface for his wife, and he loves all her race. He loves their religion. His daughter is of the religion of the white man. He himself has faith in their God. Their Great Spirit he adores, and he has made their medicine man his son by adoption. Is the religion of the white man the same as the religion of the children of the Stone? Is their Great Spirit our Great Spirit? No; for I have heard His words spoken, and they are not the words that we are taught. The white man's Spirit tells us that we shall not do that which our Great Spirit tells us to do. It bids men to spare their enemies and to forgive. Ours tells us to slay our enemies and to avenge. Which is the true Spirit? Ours! For the paleface does not believe in his own Spirit nor obey His commands. He does not spare his enemies, he does not forgive, but he takes vengeance as fiercely as the redman, and against his own law. Let us then obey the voice of our own Great Spirit, and do according to our own customs; for the white man knows his God to be false, or he would obey His commandments. Now, what would the Black Eagle have? Would he have us all turn Christians, or would he have us obey the voice of the Manitou, and follow the customs of our fathers? Have we not done according to our own laws? What do our traditions tell us? They say that them shalt appease the spirit of thy brother who is slain, by pouring out the blood of the slayer, If his blood cannot be had, then that of one of his family or of his friends. If his family and his friends are not, then that of one of his nation. So now, what is the case, chiefs and warriors of the Oneidas? You have a brother slain. His soul goes to the land of spirits, but his bow and his arrows hang idle at his back. His heart is sad and desolate. He howls for food, and finds none. He wanders round and round the happy hunting grounds, and looks in in sorrow, for he must not enter till the blood of atonement has been shed. He cries to you from the other side of the grave with a great cry, 'Give me rest!' Shall his brothers give him none? Shall they let him wander, cold and hungry, amidst frost and snows, within sight of the blessed region, and prevent him from entering, or shall we take the first man we find of the race of him who slew him, and by his blood, poured out upon this very stone, appease the spirit of our dead brother, and let him enter the happy hunting grounds, where his soul may find repose? Ye men of the family of the Snake, ye have done well to seize upon the paleface whom ye first found, for ye have made sure of an atonement for the blood of your brother; and how could ye know that ye could find it if ye delayed your hand, or abandoned your prey? And now, let the chiefs and the warriors consider whether they will still keep their brother who is dead hungering and thirsting for months in the cold region, or whether they will make the atonement this very day, and open the way for him into the happy hunting grounds? I have said."
Again a quiet silence took possession of the throng, and it lasted long; but the eyes of the Black Eagle moved hither and thither round the circle, watching every face, and when he gathered, by a sort of kindling look in the eyes of one of the warriors, that he was about to speak, he himself interposed, rising this time to his full height, and saying:
"The medicine man has spoken, and he has explained the law; but he has counseled with words contrary to the law. The medicine man has the law in his heart, but his words are the words of foxes. He has not unfolded the roll of the law into which the words of the Manitou were whispered; but he says truly that we are to shed the blood of the murderer of our brother, to appease his spirit. If we cannot find him, we are to shed the blood of some one of his many kindred; if we cannot find one of them, the blood of one of his nation; but have ye sought for the murderer, ye brethren of the Snake? Can ye say that ye have tried to catch him? Have ye had time? Will your brother who is gone be contented with the blood of the first paleface ye can find, when ye might find the real murderer? Will he lap, like the dog, at the first pool in his way? Will he not rather say, 'Give us the sweet water that only can allay our thirst? Would ye sing in our ears, and make us believe music? This is not the blood of him who shed our blood. This is not the blood of his kindred. The happy hunting grounds will not open to us for this blood.' Oneidas, it is the medicine man beguiles you from the customs of your fathers. They say, 'Wait till ye have searched diligently. Make sure that ye offer the best atonement that ye can. Do not kill the fox because the panther has mangled the game. Do not shoot the oriole for the thing that the hawk has done. The son of my brother Prevost is no kin of the Yengee who slew the brother of the Snake. His blood will not atone if ye can find other blood more friendly to the murderer. The eyes of the Manitou are over all; he sees that ye have not sought as ye should seek."
Some moments after he had spoken, but with a less interval than had hitherto occurred between any of the speeches, a fierce-looking young warrior arose and exclaimed:
"Let him die! Why should we wait? The Woodchuck is safe in the land of the Yengees. He has taken himself far from the arrow of the Oneida. There is a cloud between us and him, and we cannot see through it. The Woodchuck has no kindred. He has often declared so when he sat by the fire and talked of the deeds he has done. He has boasted that he was a man alone; that his father was hay and his mother grass, and the hemlock and the oak his brothers and his sisters. Neither him can we find, nor any of his kin; but we have taken what was nearest to him--his friend, and the son of his friend. This is the blood that will appease the spirit of our brother. Let him die, and die quickly. Does the Black Eagle ask if this boy was his friend? The Black Eagle knows he was; but moreover, it may be that he himself was the companion of the murderer even when he killed our brother. They went forth together to seek some prey. Was it not the redman that the wolves hunted? They killed a panther and a man when they went forth together. That we know, for there were eyes of redmen near. The blood of our brother was licked up by the earth. The skin of the panther was sent by this boy (our captive) to Otaitsa, the daughter of the Black Eagle. I took it from the runner this very day. The man who brought it is near at hand. The skin is here. I have said." And he threw the panther's skin down before him, almost into the flame of the fire.
A buzzing murmur ran round the Indians, and the keen mind of the Black Eagle soon perceived that the danger of poor Walter Prevost was greatly heightened.
"Let the law be announced to us," he said. "The roll of the law is here, but let it not be read by the tongue of a fox. Let the man of ancient times read it. Let the warrior and the priest who kept it for so many years now tell us what it ordains, according to the interpretation of the old days, and not according to the rashness of boys, who would be chiefs long before a scalp hangs at the door of their lodge. I can see," he cried, in a loud voice, starting up from his seat, and waving his arm, as if some strong emotion overpowered his habitual calmness, "I can see the time coming when the intemperance of youth and the want of respect for age and for renown will bring low the power of the Oneidas, will crush the greatness of the Five Nations into dust. So long as age and counsel were reverenced they were a mighty people, and the scalps of their enemies were brought from every battlefield. They were a wise people, for they listened to the voice of experience, and they circumvented their enemies. But now the voices of boys and striplings prevail. They take presents, and they sell themselves for baubles. They drink the firewater till they are no more men, till reason has departed, and courage and strength are not in them. They use the lightning, and they play with the thunder; but the tomahawk and the scalping knife are green rushes in their hands. Let the law be announced, then; let it be announced by the voice of age and wisdom; and let us abide by his words, for they are good."
Thus saying, he stepped across the little chasm which lay between him and the second speaker on this occasion, and took up a heavy roll which lay beside the priest or medicine man. It consisted of innumerable strings of shells sawn into long strips, like the pendants of an earring, and stained of three separate colors--black, red, and white. These were disposed in various curious groups, forming no regular pattern, but yet not without order; and so many were there in this roll that, though each was very small, the weight of the whole could not have been less than twenty or thirty pounds. Thus loaded, and bearing this burden with the appearance of great reverence, Black Eagle carried the roll half way round the circle and laid it upon the knees of a man evidently far advanced in life, although his shorn head and long white scalp-lock showed to an Indian eye, at least, that he still judged himself fit to accompany the warriors of the tribe to battle.
The chief then slowly resumed his seat, and once more profound silence spread over the assembly. The eyes of all were, it is true, directed toward the old man whose exposition of their laws and customs was to be final; but not a limb stirred, and even the very eagerness of their gaze was subdued into a look of tranquil attention, except in the case of the young man who had spoken so vehemently, and whose relationship as a brother of the slain Indian excused, in the sight of the tribe, a good deal of unwonted agitation.
For some two minutes after receiving the roll the old priest remained motionless, with his eyes raised toward the flame that still towered up before him, licking and scorching the branches of a hemlock tree above. But at length his fingers began to move amongst the carved shells, and, unloosing rapidly some thongs by which the roll was bound, he spread out the seemingly tangled mass in fair order. Then, bending down his head, he seemed to listen, as if for a voice.
"The law of the Oneidas cannot change," he said, at length. "It is the will of Hawaneyoh, the Great Spirit. A white man must die for the blood spilt by a white man; but the spiller of the blood must be sought for, or our brother will still be shut out from the happy hunting grounds. Listen not to the song of singing birds against the young man, thou brother of the Snake. Neither do thou make trouble in the Five Nations because the blossom of the Black Eagle's tree cannot be reached by thy hand."
The open allusion to that which he thought was one of the deep secrets of his bosom, was too much for even the Indian stoicism of the brother of the Snake, and he drew his blanket or mantle over his chest as if to hide what was within. Black Eagle, however, though probably taken as much by surprise as anyone by the old man's words, remained perfectly unmoved, not a change of expression even appearing upon his rigid features, though the speaker paused for a whole minute, as if to let what he had said produce its full effect.
"Remember," continued the priest, "the prophecy of the child of the sky, Tohganawetah, when our fathers, under his counsels, joined themselves together in a perpetual league, a lifetime before a paleface was seen in the land. He said, 'When the white throats shall come, if ye suffer dissensions among yourselves, ye shall pull down the Long House of the Five Nations, cut down the tree of peace, and extinguish the council fire forever.' And wilt thou, brother of the Snake, bring this cloud upon thy people? Thou shalt search for him who spilt thy brother's blood till the moon have changed, and waxed and waned again, and then thou shalt come before the sachems of the eight totems and make manifest that thou hast not been able to find him or any of his kindred. Then shall the sachems choose a paleface for the sacrifice, and let him die the death of a warrior by the stroke of the tomahawk; but they shall make no delay, for thy brother must not be shut out from the hunters gone before, more than two moons. Hiro! I have spoken."
"Houé, houé! It is well!" said all the Indians present but one, and, rising from their seats, they raised the roll of their law reverently, and one by one glided down the path which led to the opening of the dell.
Slowly up the steep middle street of Albany walked the great, powerful form of the Woodchuck, about the hour of noon. He was clothed in his usual shaggy habiliments of the forest, with his rifle on his shoulder, his hatchet and his knife in his belt. His steps had none of the light activity, however, of former times, and his face, which always had a grave and sedate air, was now covered with heavy gloom.
Altogether he was a very singular-looking man; but--though situated inland, and in one of the most central situations of the provinces--the streets of Albany, from time to time, presented so many strange figures of different kinds, what between Indians, negroes, half-breeds, scouts, soldiers, sailors, Dutchmen, Englishmen, and hunters, that the wanderer, however odd his appearance, attracted very little attention as he went. Slowly he found his way up to the gates of the fort, and easily obtained admission to the person he sought. He found him in a mere barrack-room, with the simplest possible furniture, and no ornament whatever to distinguish it as the dwelling of a man of distinction. The little camp bed in one corner of the room, the plain deal table, not even painted, at which he sat writing, the two or three hard wooden stools, without backs, were all such as might have been used in a camp or carried with an army without adding much to the impedimenta; and yet there was something about the young nobleman himself which instantly informed a visitor that he was in the presence of no common man. He turned his head as Woodchuck entered, and as soon as he perceived who it was, he nodded, saying: "Immediately, immediately," and resumed his writing.
Captain Brooks drew a stool to some distance and fixed his eyes first of all upon the young soldier, seeming to examine his countenance and form with great care. He then turned to another person whom the room contained, and scanned him with great accuracy. That person was an Indian, if one might judge by complexion and features, and yet he was dressed like one of the followers of the British army. The sort of hunting tunic he wore was not the ordinaryga-ka-ahor Indian shirt, but a mere sort of cloth frock, with sleeves, fastened round his waist by a leathern belt. It was of a peculiar color, then very much worn both by men and women, of the hue of dead leaves, and called philomot; and on his head he wore a curious sort of cap of untanned leather, much of the same hue. It was certainly a well-devised dress for the purpose of concealing a wanderer through the woods in the autumn season; but as I have before said, it was assuredly not Indian, and the long hair, though black as jet, with a slight shading of moustache upon the upper lip, showed that in all probability there was some white blood in his veins, though not at all apparent on the surface. The man had much of the Indian impassible gravity, however, and though he must have seen that he was undergoing a very severe scrutiny by the eyes of Woodchuck, no movement of any of the muscles of the face betrayed his consciousness, and he remained still and statue-like, with his gaze turned earnestly forward upon Lord H----.
The young nobleman soon concluded his letter, and beckoning the man up, placed it in his hands with some money. "Take that to Mr. Prevost," he said, "and tell him, moreover, that I shall myself be up to-morrow, before nightfall."
"Stay a moment," said Woodchuck. "I may have something to say, too, that will make changes. I guess the half-breed had better wait outside a bit."
"Go down to the guard-room," said Lord H----, turning to the man, "and wait there till I send for you." Then giving an inquiring look to Woodchuck, he added: "He tells me he can reach Mr. Prevost's house this night, if he sets out at once."
"To be sure he can," answered Woodchuck. "If he's the man I believe him to be, he'd go half as fur ag'in."
The runner took not the slightest notice of the conversation regarding himself and his own powers, nor indeed of the sort of intimation of recognition uttered by Captain Brooks.
"Is not your name Proctor?" said Woodchuck, at last. "I guess it be, though your age, since I saw you----"
The other merely nodded his head, and Woodchuck continued, with a sort of grunt of satisfaction, "That'll do; he can speak, my lord, though he never do, except at very rare times. Them Ingian devils are as silent as snakes themselves, but this man beats them all. I traveled some two hundred miles with him, ten year or more agone, and never heard the sound of his voice in the whole way but once, and then he said three words and a half, and stopped."
"I know he can speak," said Lord H----, "for he told me how long he would take to go. Go down, Mr. Proctor, as I told you, and wait in the guard-room; you shall hear from me in a minute."
"He runs like a deer," said Woodchuck, as the man left the room, "but his way is generally to jog on at a darnation swinging sort of rate, which doesn't seem to trouble his shanks at all--a sort of trot, like--carries him through everything and over everything, brambles and bushes, and hills, and stones and rocks, land or water, all the same. I do believe he'd trot across the Hudson without much knowing or caring what was anything. The Indians call him Munguokah; but as his father's father was an Englishman, we call him Proctor."
"But can he be relied upon?" asked Lord H----. "He was recommended to me very strongly by General Webb, who employed him upon some difficult service."
Woodchuck paused. "Webb's recommendation," he said, at length, "is not worth much, for what would any give for any word out of the mouth of a man who would suffer a gallant comrade to fall, and a noble garrison to be butchered, without striking one stroke or moving one step to their assistance? But, if I recollect right, this Proctor is the runner who contrived to get through Montcalm's army and all the savage devils that were with him, and carried poor Munro's dispatches to Webb. What became of the other one, nobody knows; but I guess we could find his scalp if we sought well amongst the Hurons. Yes, this must be the man, I think; and if it be, you couldn't find a better. At all events, you can trust him for holding his tongue, and that's something in a runner. He wouldn't get up words enough in ten years to tell any secrets you wanted to keep. And now, General, I've come to talk with you about what's to be done, and I think we had better settle that before the man goes. He'll get to Prevost tonight if he stays these two hours, and I guess we can settle sooner than that, for I've thought the matter over and made up my mind."
"And to what conclusion have you come?" asked Lord H----.
Brooks looked down and rubbed his great hands upon his knees for a moment, as if he hesitated to give the resolution he had formed, after so painful a struggle, the confirmation of uttered words. "Not a pleasant one," he said, at length; "not one easily hit upon, my lord, but the only one--after all, the only one. I had a sore tussle with the devil last night, and he's a strong enemy; but I beat him--manful, hand to hand. He and I together, and no one to help either of us."
The young nobleman thought that his poor friend's wits were beginning to wander a little, and to lead him back from the diabolical encounter he spoke of, he said, changing the subject abruptly: "I suppose I could send no one better than this man Proctor?"
"I'll tell you what it is, Lord H----," answered Woodchuck, "I must go myself. There's no one can save Walter Prevost but Brooks. He's the man who must do it."
"And do you think it possible?" asked Lord H----, seeing the great probability of his companion himself being captured by the Indians, and yet hesitating whether he ought to say a word to deter him from his purpose.
"I do think it possible," said Woodchuck, with a grim smile, "for you see if these Indians get the man they want they can't and daren't take another."
Lord H---- grasped the rough hand of the hunter, saying in a tone of much feeling: "You are, indeed, a noble-hearted man, Captain Brooks, if I understand you rightly, to go and give yourself up to these savages to save your young friend. Nobody could venture to propose such a thing to you, because his having fallen into their hands was not your fault, and life is dear to everyone; but----"
"Stay! stay! stay!" cried Woodchuck. "Don't get along too fast! You've said two or three things already that want an answer. As to life, it is dear to everyone, and I myself am such a fool that I'd rather by a good bit go lingering on here amongst all this smoke and dirt, and dull houses, and rogues innumerable, than walk up there and be tomahawked, which is but the matter of a moment, after all; for them Ingians isn't long about their work, and do it completely. Howsoever, one always clings to hope, and so I think that if I can get up there amongst the woods and trails I know so well, I may, perhaps, find out some means of saving the poor boy and my own life, too; and if I can, I'll do it; for I'm not going to throw away my life like a bad shilling. If I can't do it, why then I'll save his life, cost what it will. I shall soon know all about it when I get up there, for the squaws are all good, kind-hearted critters, and if I can get hold of one of them she'll be my scout soon enough, and fish out the truth for me as to where the boy is, and when they are going to make the sacrifice. Lord bless you, they set about these things, them Ingians, just as orderly as a trial at law. They'll do nothing in a hurry; and so I shall have time to look about and see what's to be done without risking Walter's life in the meanwhile. Then you see, my lord, I've got this great advantage: I shall have a walk or two in my old haunts among them beautiful woods. The snow will be out by that time; and to my mind there's no season when the woods look and the air feels so fresh and free as on a wintry day, with the ground all white, and wreaths of snow upon every vine and briar, and them great big hemlocks and pines rising up like black giants all around me. Some folks don't like the winter in the woods, but I could walk on or go on in a sleigh through them forever. Why, that month among the woods, if I'm not caught sooner, would be worth ever so many weeks in this dull, dirty place, or any other city; for Albany, I take it, is as good as most of them, and perhaps better."
"But I am afraid in the winter your plan of getting information would not succeed very well," said Lord H----. "In the first place, the Indian women are not likely to go very far from their wigwams, amongst which you would hardly venture; and in the next place, your feet would be easily tracked in the snow, for these Indians, I am told, are most cunning and pertinacious hunters, and will follow any tracks they see for miles and miles."
"I've dodged an Ingian afore now," said Captain Brooks, with a look of some self-importance, "and in the snow, too. I've got the very snowshoes I did it in. I can walk in my snowshoes either way, one as well as t'other; and so I made 'em believe that I was going east when I was going west, and going west when I was going east. Sometimes I had the shoes on the right way, and sometimes the wrong, so they couldn't make nothing of it, and they think still--for, Lord help you, they are sometimes as simple as children--that the devil must have given me a lift now and then; for when I got where the trees grew thick together, so that the big branches touched, and I could catch a great bough over my head by a spring, I would get up and climb along from one to another, like a bear or squirrel, sometimes two or three hundred yards, before I came down again. I saw a set of them once upon the trail, and when they came to where the tracks stopped they got gaping up the tree, with their rifles in their hands, as if they were looking after a painter; but I was a hundred yards off or more, and quite away from the right line. Then, as to the women, I've thought about that, and I've laid a plan in case I can't get hold of any of the women. Now, I'm going to tell you something very strange, my lord. You've heard of Free Masons, I dare say?"
Lord H---- nodded his head, with a smile; and Woodchuck continued: "Well, they've got Free Masons among the Ingians; that's to say, not exactly Free Masons, but what comes much to the same thing,[2]people who have got a secret among themselves, and who are bound to help each other in good or evil, in the devil's work or God's, against their own nation or their own tribe, or their own family, and who, on account of some deviltry or other, dare not for the soul of them refuse what a brother asks them. It's a superstition at the bottom of it, and it's very strange, but so it is."
While he had been speaking he had unfastened his coat at the collar, drawn his arm out of the sleeve and bared it up above the elbow, where there appeared a small blue line tattooed on the brown skin. "There," he said; "there's the mark."
"You do not mean to say that you are one of this horrible association?" asked Lord H----, with a grave look.
"Not exactly that," answered Woodchuck; "and as to its being a horrible association or not, that's as folks use it. It may be for bad and it may be for good, and there are good men amongst them. I am a sort of half-and-half member, and I'll tell you how it happened. I went once, in the winter, up into the woods to hunt moose, by a place where there's a warm spring, which melts the snow and keeps the grass fresh, and the big beasts come down to drink, and mayhap eat, too. Well, as soon as I got there, I saw that someone had been before me, for I saw tracks all about, and a sort of stable in the snow, made for the moose, such as hunters often make to get a number together and to shoot them down when they herd it. There were moose tracks, too, and some blood on the snow; so I thought that the Ingians had killed some and scared the rest away. I was going back by another trail when I came upon an old man, lying partly against a basswood tree, just as quiet as if he was a corpse, and I should have thought he was as dead as a statue if I hadn't seen his shining eyes move as I passed. Never a word did he say, and he'd have lain there and died outright rather than call for help. But I went up to him, and found the old critter had been poked terribly by a moose, all about his chest and shoulders. So I built up a little hut for him with boughs, and covered it over with snow, and made it quite snug and warm. I took him in and nursed him there, and as I was well stocked with provisions, parched corn, and dry meat, and such like, I shared with him. I couldn't leave the poor old critter there to die, you know, my lord, and so I stayed with him all the time, and we got a couple of deer, and fine venison steaks we had of them; and at last, at the end of five weeks, he was well enough to walk. By that time we had got quite friendly together, and I went down with him to his lodge, and spent the rest of the winter with him. I had often enough remarked a blue line tattooed upon his arm, and sometimes he would say one thing about it and sometimes another; for these Ingians be like parrots. But at last he said he would tattoo a line on my arm; and when he had done it he told me it was the best service he could render me in return for all those I had rendered him. He said that if I ever met any of the Five Nations tattooed like that, and spoke a word which he taught me, they would help me against their own fathers. He told me something about them and about their set, but he would not tell me all. I was quite a young lad then, and the old man died the next year, for I went to see him, and found him just at the last gasp. I have heard a good deal about those people, however, since, from other Ingians, who all have a dread of them, and call them the children of the devil; so I take care not to show my devil's mark amongst them; and I have never had need to use it till now."
"How will it serve you now?" asked Lord H----, not at all liking or confiding in the support of such men.
"Well, if I can get speech of one of them, even for an instant," replied Woodchuck, "I can get together a band of the only men who will go against the superstitions of their people and help me to set the poor boy free; and they will do it, whether they be tortoises, or bears, or wolves, or snipes, or stags."
"What! what!" exclaimed Lord H----, in utter amazement. "I do not understand what you mean!"
"Only names of their totems, or tribes, my lord," answered Brooks. "These Ingians are queer people. You must not judge of them, or deal with them, as you would other men; and these are the only critturs amongst them I could get to help me, if their habits came in the way the least bit. Now, you know, though I may do something by myself, I may not be able to do all. If I am to get the boy out of the hole where they have doubtless hid him, I have to find it out first, and to make sure that we are not followed and overtaken afterward. I would fain save my life if I can, my lord," he continued, looking up in the face of his noble companion with a sort of appealing look. "I think a man has a right to do that if he can."
"Assuredly," replied Lord H----. "The love of life is implanted in us by God himself; and all which can be expected of us by our country or our fellow man is a readiness to sacrifice it when called on to do so. But now, my good friend, I have another plan to propose. It is probable that hostilities have ceased for this year, and since I saw you last night a small party of the scouts which you know we always have in pay, has been put at my disposal for the very purpose we have in view. They are all acquainted with wood warfare, with Indian habits, and with the art of tracking an enemy or a friend. Would it not be better for you to have these six men with you, to give you assistance in case of need? Your own life, at all events, would be more secure."
"I think not," answered Woodchuck, musingly; "they might cumber me. No, my lord, I had better go alone. As for my own life, I may as well tell you at once, I have made up my mind to save the boy or lose it. The devil put it hard to me that it was no fault of mine he was trapped; that my life was as good to me as his was to him, and a great deal more; but, knowing it does not do to stand parleying with that gentleman, I said: 'Peter Brooks, it is your fault; for if you had not shot the Ingian, Walter would never have been taken. Your life is not as good to you or anybody else as his is to him and all the world. He's quite a lad, and a young lad, too, with many a bright year before him. You'll never see forty-eight again; and what's your fag-end worth to anyone?' 'Not a stiver,' answered conscience; and so I resolved to go. Now, as to these men, some of them are capital good fellows, and might help me a good deal when once I'm in the thick of the business; but seven men can't get altogether into the Oneida country without being found out. But I'll tell you what, my lord, if you'll let me place them where I want, one by one, in different places, and they slip into the country quietly, one at a time, they may do good service, and not be discovered."
"Will it not be dangerous so to divide your force?" asked Lord H----.
"Ingian ways with Ingian people," answered Woodchuck. "But I don't think you understand the thing, my lord. You see, through a great part of this Ingian territory, we English have built a little fort here, and a little fort there, all the way up to the shores of Ontario, where they made sad work of it last year at Oswego. Well, if I stow away these scouts at different posts, the nearest I can to Oneida Creek, they will be only at arm's length, and can stretch out their hand to help whenever they're called upon. They'll be able to get in one by one, too, quite easily, for I've a great notion some of these Ingians have got a spite at Walter, and are not very likely to look for anyone in his place. If they caught me, they'd be obliged to have me; and if the scouts went all together, they'd stop them, for they don't like their number; but one at a time they'll pass well enough, if they understand their business, which is to be supposed."
"I see your plan now," said Lord H----, "and perhaps you are right. You can concentrate them upon any point very rapidly. They shall be sent for, and put under your command this very day."
"No need of command," answered Woodchuck; "scouts don't like to be commanded; and if they don't help with a good will, better not help at all. Just tell them what I'm about, let them know that a young man's life is at stake, and they'll work well for me if they're worth a penny. And now, my lord, you call up that man Proctor and send him off to Prevost's house. Call him up here! call him up here! I've got this large powder horn I want to send back, though it's a doubt whether the man can muster words enough to tell who it comes from, and I must get him to do so, one way or another."
"I can take it to-morrow myself," said Lord H----; but Woodchuck shook his head.
"That won't do," he said, with a shrewd look. "The runner must take it. He'll tell Prevost before some of his negroes, and the negroes will tell any Ingians that are prowling about; and so it will get round that I've left the hunting grounds for good, and I shall slip in the more easily. Always think of everything you can; and if you can't do that, think of as much as possible. A hunter's life makes one mighty cautious. I'm as careful as an old raccoon, who always looks nine ways before he puts his nose out of his hole."
Lord H---- called up the runner; and into his hands was delivered the powder horn for Mr. Prevost, with Woodchuck's message repeated over and over again, with manifold injunctions not to forget it.
"Tell him I took it that unlucky day I shot the Ingian," said Woodchuck, "and I don't like to keep what's not my own. It's nearly as good as stealing, if not quite. There, Mr. Proctor, you can get up words enough to say that, can't you?"
The man nodded his head and then turned to the door, without any further reply, beginning his peculiar sort of trot before he reached the top of the stairs, and never ceasing it till he arrived at the door of Mr. Prevost's house.
In the meanwhile, Lord H---- made Captain Brooks stay to partake of his own very frugal dinner, while the scouts were being collected and brought to the fort. They came about two o'clock, ready prepared, at least in part, for what was to follow; for in the little town of Albany, such an adventure as had befallen Walter Prevost was a matter of too much interest not to spread to every house, and to be told at every fireside. Most of the men, accustomed to continual action and enterprise of various kinds, were very willing to go, with the prospect of a fair reward before them. Life was so often periled with them, dangers and difficulties so often encountered, that existence without activity was rather a burden than otherwise. Each probably had his selfishness of some kind; but only one, in whom it took the form of covetousness, thought fit to inquire what was to be his recompense beyond the mere pay, for this uncovenanted service.
"Your recompense will be nothing at all," answered Woodchuck at once, without waiting for Lord H---- to speak; "I won't have you with me. The man who can try to drive a bargain when a brave boy's life is at stake is not fit to have a share with us. There, go along and knit petticoats; you may get a dollar apiece for them. That's the sort of winter work fit for you."
The man shrunk sullenly out of the room, and all other matters were soon settled with his companions. The method of their entrance into the Oneida territory, the different routes they were to take, and the points where they were to halt till called upon, were all arranged by Woodchuck, with a sort of natural military skill, which was more than once displayed by the American people during after wars. The part of the nobleman who was present was merely to listen, and give some letters to officers commanding different posts; but he listened, well pleased, and attentively; for his was a mind always eager to acquire information and direction from the experience of others, and the insight which he gained into the habits of the new people amongst whom he was might have been highly serviceable to others as well as himself, had not a sort of pedantry prevailed amongst the older officers in the British army at that time, and for many succeeding years, which prevented them from adapting their tactics to the new situations in which they were placed. Wolfe was a splendid exception, but Wolfe was a young man, coming in the dawning of a better day; and even had he not been so, it is probable that his genius, like that of Wellington, would have shown him that he was now to make rules, rather than to observe them.
As soon as the scouts were gone, Woodchuck rose to take his leave; and as Lord H---- shook him very warmly by the hand the good man said, in a tone of strong feeling: "Thank you, my lord, for all your kindness. You'll be glad to know that I feel very happy, and I'll tell you why. I'm doing something, and I'm doing my duty."
"There is a light, sir, at the Castle," said one of the servants of Sir William Johnson, entering the room where he was seated with Mr. Prevost; "it comes from the great court."
"Then they have arrived," said the officer, turning to his guest. "Let us set out at once. Are the horses saddled?"
"They have been kept ready, sir, ever since the morning," replied the servant to whom the last words were addressed.
"It is strange," said Mr. Prevost, as he followed his host toward the door of the room, "that the negro I sent to tell Edith the cause of my delay has not returned, as I told him. He might have been here four hours ago. I am growing somewhat anxious."
"Be not so! be not so!" replied Sir William. "Two or three years of forest life, my good friend, are not enough to inure a man to all the little accidents and discomforts he must meet with; and the first serious danger so shakes his nerves that they vibrate at a trifle. The man's horse may have fallen, or he may have purloined a bottle of brandy and got drunk, or he may have missed his way, or set out late. Between this house and yours there is room for chances enough to make a moderate volume. Let us not look out for uncertain evils when there are real ones enough around us."
"Real ones enough, indeed," said Mr. Prevost, with a deep sigh.
A moment after, they reached the front of the stables, from which their horses were immediately brought forth; and mounting, they set out, followed by a small party, both on horseback and on foot; for Sir William, though he affected the simplicity of the Indian, was not at all averse to a little appearance of state and dignity in his dealings with his red allies. There is a certain sort of pride, which clothes itself in humility, and, without at all meaning to assert that the very remarkable man in question desired to make the Indian chiefs feel that his adoption of their manners was a condescension, yet it is certain that, from time to time, he judged it expedient--perhaps from motives of good policy--to make a somewhat ostentatious display of power and authority.
The night was exceedingly dark. The moon now rose at a very late hour, and dim clouds hid the stars from the dwellers upon earth. In such a night, and in such circumstances, the fancy, even of the most stout-hearted, is apt to indulge in deceits; and as the eye of Mr. Prevost wandered round, dim forms, like specters, seemed to be gliding about the fields of maize, cut, but in many places not gathered.
Not feeling certain whether imagination cheated him or not, he made no observation; and for some time Sir William Johnson was silent, also; but at length the latter said, in a commonplace tone: "Our good friends seem to have come in great force, probably in consequence of the urgency of my summons. Now, be patient, Prevost, and bear with their cool, phlegmatic ways, for these people often feel the strongest sympathies, and serve their friends the best when they seem the most cold and indifferent."
Mr. Prevost felt already how difficult it was to maintain that equanimity which, in theory, he estimated as highly as an Indian, and in practice strove for, but not infrequently lost. He promised, however, to leave entirely to Sir William Johnson the management of a conference with the chiefs of the Mohawk and Onondaga nations, which had been proposed by that officer himself, for the purpose of inducing the two most powerful nations of the Iroquois to interfere in behalf of Walter, and save him from the fate that menaced him. At the gate of the Castle, the door of which stood open, as usual (for although it was filled with large quantities of those stores which the Indians most coveted, its safety was left entirely to the guardianship of their good faith), the two gentlemen entered the large courtyard, which, on this occasion, was quite deserted, the weather being cold enough now to render some shelter agreeable even to an Indian.
From the open door of the great hall which stretched along the greater part of the whole building, came forth a blaze of light on entering. Sir William Johnson and his companion found a number of Mohawk and Onondaga chiefs assembled, sitting gravely ranged in a semi-circle round the fire. Each was fully clothed in his garb of ceremony, and bright and brilliant were the colors displayed in the dresses and ornaments of the redmen; but as this was a peaceful occasion, their faces were destitute of paint, and the scalp-lock concealed under the brilliant gostoweh, or cap, in many of which were seen the plume of the famous white egret, used to distinguish the chiefs of the different tribes, ever since the feathers of the famous white bird of heaven had been exhausted.
All rose with quiet native dignity when the Indian agent and his companion entered; and a murmur of gratulation ran round while Sir William and Walter's father seated themselves in two large chairs.
"This is our brother," said Sir William Johnson, pointing to Mr. Prevost.
"Hai! hai!" said the Indian chiefs. "Peace! peace! He is our brother."
King Hendrick then approached Mr. Prevost, dressed in his sky-blue coat of European manufacture, presented to him by the reigning monarch of England, and took his hand, saying in a tone of friendly sympathy, and in the English tongue: "Our brother is sad; be comforted."
He then seated himself, and the attotarho, or grand chief of the whole confederacy, an office held in descent by the chief of the Onondaga totem of the Bear, advanced to Walter's father and spoke the same words in Iroquois, showing clearly that the object of the meeting was understood, by the Indian leaders. When all had arranged themselves round again, a silence of some minutes succeeded.
At length the attotarho said, rising to his full height, which might be termed almost gigantic: "Our father has sent for us, and we are obedient children. We are here to hear his sweet words and understand his mind."
Sir William Johnson then, in a speech of very great power and beauty, full of the figurative language of the Indians, related the events which had occurred in the family of Mr. Prevost, and made an appeal to his hearers for counsel and assistance. He represented his friend as an old tree from which a branch had been torn by the lightning, when he strove to depict his desolate state; and then he told a story of a panther, one of whose young ones had been carried off by a wolf, but who, on applying for assistance to a bear and a stag, recovered her young by their means. "The panther was strong enough," he said, "with the aid of the lion, to take back her young ones from the wolf, and to tear it to pieces; but the wolf was of kin to the bear and the stag, and therefore she forebore."
"But the bear is slow, and the stag is not strong when he goes against his kindred," said the attotarho, significantly, "and the lion will never take the warpath against his allies."
"Heaven forbid that there should be need," said Sir William, "but the lion must consider his children, and the panther is his son."
Poor Mr. Prevost remained in a state of painful anxiety while the discussion proceeded in this course, wandering as it seemed to him, round the subject, and affording no indication of any intention on the parts of the chiefs to give him assistance; for figures, though they be very useful things to express the meaning of a speaker, are sometimes equally useful to conceal it. At length he could bear no longer, and forgetting his promise to Sir William Johnson, he started up with all the feelings of a father strong in his heart, and appealed directly to the Indians in their own tongue, which he had completely mastered, but in a style of eloquence very different from their own, and perhaps the more striking to them on that account.
"My child!" he exclaimed, earnestly. "Give me back my child! Who is the man amongst the Five Nations whom he has wronged? Where is the man to whom he has refused kindness or assistance? When has his door been shut against the wandering redman? When has he denied to him a share of his food or of his fire? Is he not your brother, and the son of your brother? Have we not smoked the pipe of peace together, and has that peace ever been violated by us? I came within the walls of your Long House, trusting to the truth and the hospitality of the Five Nations. I built my lodge amongst you, in full confidence of your faith and of your friendship. Is my hearth to be left desolate, is my heart to be torn out, because I trusted to the truth and honor of the Mohawks, to the protection and promises of the Onondaga, because I would not believe the songs of the singing bird that said, 'They will slay thy children before thy face?' If there be fault or failing in me or mine toward the redman in any of the tribes, if we have taken aught from him, if we have spoken false words in his ear, if we have refused him aught that he had a right to ask, if we have shed any man's blood, then slay me! Cut down the old tree at the root, but leave the sapling. If we have been just and righteous toward you, if we have been friendly and hospitable, if we have been true and faithful, if we have shed no man's blood and taken no man's goods, then give me back my child! To you, chiefs of the Five Nations, I raise my voice; from you I demand my son! For a crime committed by one of the league is a crime committed by all. Could ye find none but the son of your brother to slay? Must ye make the trust he placed in you the means of his destruction? Had he doubted your hospitality, had he not confided in your faith, had he said, 'The lightning of the guns of Albany and the thunder of her cannon are better protection than the faith and truth of the redman,' ye know he would have been safe. But he said, 'I will put my trust in the hospitality of the Five Nations; I will become their brother. If there be bad men amongst them, their chiefs will protect me, their attotarho will do me justice. They are great warriors, but they are good men. They smite their enemies, but they love their friends.' If, then, ye are good men, if ye are great warriors, if ye are brothers to your brothers, if ye are true to your friends, if ye are fathers yourselves, give me back my son!"
"Koui! koui!" cried the Indians in a sad tone, more profoundly affected by the vehement expression of a father's feelings than Sir William Johnson had expected; but the moment that the word was uttered, which, according to the tone and rapidity with which it is pronounced, signifies either approbation and joy, or sympathy and grief, they relapsed into deep silence again.
Sir William Johnson, though he had been a good deal annoyed and alarmed at Mr. Prevost taking upon himself to speak, and fearful lest he should injure his own cause, now fully appreciated the effect produced, and would not add a word to impair it; but at length King Hendrick rose, and said in a grave and melancholy tone: "We are brothers, but what can we do? The Oneidas are our brethren, also. The Mohawks, the Oneidas, the Onondagas, the Cayugas, and the Senecas are separate nations, though they are brethren and allies. We are leagued together for common defence, but not that we should rule over each other. The Oneidas have their laws, and they execute them; but this law is common to all the nations, that if a man's blood be shed except in battle, the man who shed it must die. If he cannot be found, any of his nearest kin must be taken. If he have none, one of his tribe or race. The same is it with the Mohawk as with the Oneida. But in this thing have the Oneidas done as the Mohawks would not have done. They have not sought diligently for the slayer; neither have they waited patiently to see whether they could find any of his kindred. The Oneidas have been hasty. They have taken the first man they could find. They have been fearful like the squirrel, and they keep him lest in time of need they should not find another. This is unjust. They should have first waited and searched diligently, and should not have taken the son of their brother till they were sure no other man could be found. But koui! koui! what is to be done? Shall the Mohawk unbury the hatchet against the Oneida? That cannot be. Shall the Mohawk say to the Oneida, 'Thou art unjust'? The Oneida will answer, 'We have our laws and you have yours; the Mohawk is not the ruler of the Oneida; repose under your own tree; we sit upon a stone.' One thing, perchance, may be done," and a very slight look of cunning intelligence came into his face; "subtlety will sometimes do what force cannot. The snake is as powerful as the panther. I speak my thought, and I know not if it be good. Were my brother the attotarho to choose ten of the subtlest serpents of his nation, and I to choose ten of the subtlest of mine, they might go, un-painted and unarmed, and, creeping through the wood without rattle or hiss, reach the place where the young man lies. If there be thongs upon his hands the breath of a Snake can melt them. If there be a door upon his prison, the eyes of a Snake can pierce it. If there be a guard, the coil of the Snake can twine around him, and many of the Oneida chiefs and warriors will rejoice that they are thus friendly forced to do right, and seek another. I speak my thought; I know not whether it is good. Let those speak who know, for no nation of the five can do aught against another nation alone; otherwise we break to pieces like a faggot when the thong bursts."
Thus saying, he ended, sat down, and resumed his quiet stillness; and after a pause, as if for thought, the attotarho rose, addressing himself direct to Mr. Prevost, and speaking with a great deal of grave dignity.
"We grieve for you, my brother," he said, "and we grieve for ourselves. We know that our great English father who sits under the mighty pine tree will be wroth with his red children; but let him remember and speak it in his ears, that the Mohawk and the Onondaga, the Seneca and the Cayuga, are not to blame for this act. They say the Oneidas have done hastily, and they will consult together around the council fire how thou mayest best be comforted. Haste is only fit for children. Grown men are slow and deliberate. Why should we go quickly now? Thy son is safe; for the Oneidas cannot, according to their law, take any sacrifice except the life of the slayer, till they be well assured that the slayer cannot be found."
Mr. Prevost's lip quivered with emotion as if about to speak, but Sir William Johnson laid his hand upon his arm, saying in a quick whisper, "Leave him to me;" and the Onondaga proceeded. "We will do the best that we can for our brother, but the meadow lark has not the strength of the eagle, nor the fox of the panther, and if we should fail it would not be the fault of the Mohawk or the Onondaga. I have said."
Sir William Johnson then rose to reply, seeing that the attotarho sought to escape any distinct promise, and judging that with the support of King Hendrick a little firmness might wring something more from him.
"My brother, the attotarho," he said, "has spoken well. The Five Nations are leagued together in peace and in war. They take the scalps of their enemies as one man. They live in brotherhood; but my brother says that if the Oneida commits a crime the Mohawk and the Onondaga, the Seneca and the Cayuga are not guilty of the act, and therefore deserve no wrath. But he says at the same time that if the man named Woodchuck slays a redman, Walter Prevost, the brother of the redman, must die for it. How is this? Have the children of the Five Nations forked tongues? Do they speak double words? If the Onondagas are not guilty of what the Oneidas do, neither is Walter Prevost guilty of what the paleface Woodchuck does. May the Great Spirit forbid that your father near the rising of the sun should deal unjustly with his red children, or be wroth with them for acts done by others; but he does expect that his children of the Five Nations will show the same justice to his paleface children; and unless they are resolved to take upon themselves the act of the Oneidas, and say their act is our act, they will do something to prevent it. My brother says that haste is for children, and true are his words. Then why have the Oneidas done this hasty thing? We cannot trust that they will not be children any more, or that having done this thing they will not hastily do worse. True, everything should be done deliberately. We should show ourselves men, if we want children to follow our example. Let us take counsel then, fully, while we are here together. The council fire burns in the midst of us, and we have time enough to take thought calmly. Here I will sit till I know that my brothers will do justice in this matter, and not suffer the son of my brother to remain in the hands of those who have wrongfully made him a prisoner. Yes, truly, here I will sit to take counsel with the chiefs till the words of wisdom are spoken, even although the sun should go five times round the earth before our talk were ended. Have I spoken well?"
"Koui! koui!" exclaimed a number of voices, and one of the old sachems rose, saying in slow and deliberate tones: "Our white brother has the words of truth and resolution. The Oneida has shown the speed of the deer, but not the wisdom of the tortoise. The law of the Oneida is our law, and he should have waited at least one moon to see if the right man could be found. The Oneida must be in trouble at his own hastiness. Let us deliver him from the pit into which he has fallen, but let us do it with the silent wisdom of the snake, which creeps through the grass where no one sees him. The rattlesnake is the most foolish of reptiles, for he talks of what he is going to do beforehand. We will be more wise than he is, and as our thoughts are good, we will keep them for ourselves. Let us only say, 'The boy shall be delivered, if the Mohawks and the Onondagas can do it;' but let us not say how; for a man who gives away a secret deprives himself of what he can never recover, and benefits nothing but the wind. I have said."
All the assembled chiefs expressed their approbation of the old man's words, and seemed to consider the discussion concluded. Mr. Prevost, indeed, was anxious to have something more definite, but Sir William Johnson nodded his head significantly, saying in a low tone: "We have done as much, nay, more than we could expect. It will be necessary to close our conference with some gifts, which will be, as it were, a seal upon our covenant."
"But have they entered into any covenant?" rejoined Mr. Prevost. "I have heard of none made yet on their part."
"As much as Indians ever do," answered Sir William Johnson, "and you can extract nothing more from them with your utmost skill."
He then called some of his people from without into the hall, ordered the stores to be opened, and brought forth some pieces of scarlet cloth, one of the most honorable presents which could be offered to an Indian chief. A certain portion was cut off for each, and received with grave satisfaction. Mats and skins were then spread upon the floor in great abundance. Long pipes were brought in and handed round, and after having smoked together in profound silence for nearly half an hour, the chiefs stretched themselves out upon the ground and composed themselves to rest.
Sir William Johnson and his guest, as a mark of confidence and brotherhood, remained with them throughout the night, but retired to the farther end of the hall. They did not sleep as soon as their dusky companions. Their conversation, though carried on in low tones, was, nevertheless, eager and anxious, for the father could not help still feeling great apprehensions regarding the fate of his son; and Sir William Johnson was not altogether without alarm regarding the consequences of the very determination to which he had brought the chiefs of the Mohawks and Onondagas. Symptoms of intestine discord had of late been perceived in the great Indian confederacy. They had not acted on the behalf of England with the unanimity which they had displayed in former years, and it was the policy of the British government by every means to heal all divisions and consolidate their union, as well as to attach them more and more firmly to the English cause. Although he doubted not that whatever was done by the chiefs with whom he had just been in conference would be effected with the utmost subtlety and secrecy, yet there was still the danger of producing a conflict between them and the Oneidas in the attempt, or causing angry feeling, even if it were successful; and Sir William, who was not at all insensible to his government's approbation, felt some alarm at the prospect before him. However, he and Mr. Prevost both slept, at length, and the following morning saw the chiefs dispersing in the gray dawn of a cold and threatening morning.