The Reckoning

by Robert W. Chambers

  CHAPTER X

  SERMONS IN STONES

  By sunup we had left the city on the three hills, Elsin, Colonel VanSchaick, and I, riding our horses at the head of the little column,followed by an escort of Rangers. Behind the Rangers plodded the ladenbat-horses, behind them creaked an army transport-wagon, loaded withprovisions and ammunition, drawn by two more horses, and the rear wascovered by another squad of buckskinned riflemen, treading lightly indouble file.

  Nobody had failed me. My reckless, ale-swilling Rangers had kept thetryst with swollen eyes but steady legs; a string of bat-horses stoodat the door of the Half-Moon when Elsin and I descended; and a momentlater the army wagon came jolting and bumping down the hilly street,followed by Colonel Van Schaick and a dozen dragoons.

  When he saw me he did not recognize me, so broad and tall had I becomein these four years. Besides, I wore my forest-dress of heavily fringeddoeskin, and carried the rifle given me by Colonel Hamilton.

  "Hallo, Peter!" I called out, laughing.

  "_You!_ Can that be you, Carus!" he cried, spurring up to me where I satmy horse, and seizing me by both caped shoulders. "Lord! Look at thelad! Six feet, or I'm a Mohawk!--six feet in his moccasins, and his hairsheered close and his cap o' one side, like any forest-swaggeringfree-rifle! Carus! Carus! Damme, if I'll call you Captain! Didn't yougreet me but now with your impudent 'Hallo, Peter!'? Didn't you, youundisciplined rogue? By gad, you've kept your promise for aheart-breaker, you curly-headed, brown-eyed forest dandy!"

  He gave me a hug and a hearty shake, so that the thrums tossed, and mylittle round cap of doeskin flew from my head. I clutched it ere itfell, and keeping it in my hand, presented him to Elsin.

  "We are affianced, Peter," I said quietly. "Colonel Willett must playguardian until this fright in Albany subsides."

  "Oh, the luck o' that man Willett!" he exclaimed, beaming on Elsin, andsaluting the hand she stretched out. "Why do you not choose a man likeme, madam? Heaven knows, such a reward is all I ask of my country'sgratitude! And you are going to marry this fellow Carus? Is this whatsinners such as he may look for? Gad, madam, I'm done with decency, andshall rig me in fringed shirt and go whipping through the woods, ifsuch maidens as you find that attractive!"

  "I find you exceedingly attractive, Colonel Van Schaick," she said,laughing--"so attractive that I ask your protection against this manwho desires to be rid of me at any cost."

  Van Schaick swore that I was a villain, and offered to run off with herat the drop of her 'kerchief, but when I spoke seriously of the dangerat Albany, he sobered quickly enough, and we rode to the head of thelittle column, now ready to move.

  "March," I said briefly; and we started.

  "I'll ride a little way with you," said the Colonel--"far enough to saythat when Joshua gave me your message on my return last night I sent myorderly to find the wagon and animals and provision for three days'march. You can make it in two if you like, or even in twenty-fourhours."

  I thanked him and asked about the rumors which had so alarmed thepeople in Albany; but he shook his head, saying he knew nothing exceptthat there were scalping parties out, and that he for one believed themto be the advance of an invading force from Canada.

  "You ask me where this sweet lady will be safest," he continued, "and Ianswer that only God knows. Were I you, Carus, I should rather have hernear me; so if your duty takes you to Johnstown it may be best that sheremain with you until these rumors become definite. Then, it might bewell that she return to Albany and stay with friends like theSchuylers, or the Van Rensselaers, or Colonel Hamilton's lady, if theseworthy folk deem it safe to remain."

  "Have they gone?" I asked.

  "They're preparing to go," he said gloomily. "Oh, Carus, when we hadWalter Butler safe in Albany jail in '78, why did we not hang him? Hewas taken as a spy, tried, and properly condemned. I remember well howhe pretended illness, and how that tender-hearted young MarquisLafayette was touched by his plight, and begged that he be sent tohospital in the comfortable house of some citizen. Ah, had we knownwhat that human tiger was meditating! Think of it, Carus! You knew him,did you not, when he came a-courting Margaret Schuyler? Lord! who couldbelieve that Walter Butler would so soon be smeared with the blood ofwomen and children? Who could believe that this young man would so soonbe damned with the guilt of Cherry Valley?"

  We rode on in silence. I dared not glance at Elsin; I found no pretextto stop Van Schaick; and, still in perfect silence, we wheelednorthwest into the Schenectady road, where Peter took leave of us inhis own simple, hearty fashion, and wheeled about, galloping back upthe slope, followed by his jingling dragoons.

  I turned to take my last look at the three hills and the quaint Dutchcity. Far away on the ramparts of the fort I saw our beloved flagfluttering, a gay spot in the sunshine, with its azure, rose, andsilvery tints blending into the fresh colors of early morning. I saw,too, the ruined fort across the river, where that British surgeon, Dr.Stackpole, composed the immortal tune of "Yankee Doodle" to derideus--that same tune to which my Lord Cornwallis was now dancing, whilewe whistled it from West Point to Virginia.

  As I sat my saddle there, gazing at the city I had thought so wonderfulwhen I was a lad fresh from Broadalbin Bush, I seemed once more towander with my comrades, Stephen Van Rensselaer, Steve Watts, and JackJohnson--now Sir John--a-fishing troutlings from the Norman's Kill,that ripples through the lovely vale of Tawasentha. Once more I seemedto see the patroon's great manor-house through the drooping foliage ofthe park elms, and the stately mansion of our dear General Schuyler,with its two tall chimneys, its dormers, roof-rail, and long avenue oftrees; and on the lawn I seemed to see pretty little Margaret, nowgrown to womanhood and affianced to the patroon; and Betty Schuyler,who scarce a year since wedded my handsome Colonel Hamilton--that samelively Betty who so soon sent Walter Butler about his business, thoughhis veins were like to burst with pride o' the blood in them, that hedeclared came straight from the Earls of Arran and the great Dukes ofOrmond and of Ossery.

  "Of what are you thinking?" asked Elsin softly.

  "Of my boyhood, dearest. Yonder is the first city I ever beheld. ShallI tell you of it--and of that shy country lad who came hither to learnsomething of deportment, so that he might venture to enter an assemblyand forget his hands and feet?"

  "Were _you_ ever awkward, Carus?"

  "Awkward as a hound-pup learning to walk."

  "I shall never believe it," she declared, laughing; and we movedforward on the Schenectady road, Murphy, Mount, Elerson, and the littleWeasel trotting faithfully at heel, and the brown column trailing awayin their dustless wake.

  I had not yet forgotten the thrill of her quick embrace when, as we metat the breakfast-table by candle-light, I had told her of my commissionand of our Governor's kindness. And just to see the flush of pride inher face, I spoke of it again; and her sweet eyes' quick response wasthe most wonderful to me of all the fortune that had fallen to my lot.I turned proudly in my saddle, looking back upon the people nowentrusted to me--and as I looked, pride changed to apprehension, and aquick prayer rose in my heart that I, a servant of my country, mightnot prove unequal to the task set me.

  Sobered, humbled, I rode on, asking in silence God's charity for myignorance, and His protection for her I loved, and for these humansouls entrusted to my care in the dark hours of the approaching trial.

  North and northwest we traveled on a fair road, which ran throughpleasant farming lands, stretches of woods, meadows, andstubble-fields. At first we saw men at work in the fields, not many,but every now and again some slow Dutch yokel, with his sunburned faceturned from his labor to watch us pass. But the few farmhouses becamefewer, and these last were deserted. Finally no more houses appeared,and stump-lots changed to tangled clearings, and these into secondgrowth, and these at last into the primeval forests, darklymagnificent, through which our road, now but a lumber road, ran moistand dark, springy and deep with the immemorial droppings of the trees.

  Without command of mine, four
lithe riflemen had trotted off ahead. Inow ordered four more to act on either flank, and called up part of therear-guard to string out in double file on either side of the animalsand wagon. The careless conversation in the ranks, the sudden laugh,the clumsy skylarking all ceased. Tobacco-pipes were emptied andpouched, flints and pans scrutinized, straps and bandoleers tightened,moccasins relaced. The batmen examined ropes, wagon-wheels, andharness, and I saw them furtively feeling for their hatchets to seethat everything was in place.

  Thankful that I had a company of veterans and no mob of godless andsilly trappers, bawling contempt of everything Indian, I unconsciouslybegan to read the signs of the forest, relapsing easily into thatcautious custom which four years' disuse had nothing rusted.

  And never had man so perfect a companion in such exquisite accord withhis every mood and thought as I had in Elsin Grey. Her sweet,reasonable mind was quick to comprehend. When I fell silent, using myears with all the concentration of my other senses, she listened, too,nor broke the spell by glance or word. Yet, soon as I spoke in lowtones, her soft replies were ready, and when my ever restless eyesreverted, resting a moment on her, her eyes met mine with that perfectconfidence that pure souls give.

  At noon we halted to rest the horses and eat, the pickets going out oftheir own accord. And I did not think it fit to give orders where nonewere required in this company of Irregulars, whose discipline matchedregiments more pretentious, and whose alignment was suited to theconditions. Braddock and Bunker Hill were lessons I had learned toregard as vastly more important than our good Baron's drill-book.

  As I sat eating a bit of bread, cup of water in the other hand. JackMount came swaggering up with that delightful mixture of respect andfamiliarity which brings the hand to the cap but leaves a grin on theface.

  "Well, Jack?" I asked, smiling.

  "Have you noticed any sign, sir?" he inquired. Secretly self-satisfied,he was about to go on and inform me that he and Tim Murphy had noticeda stone standing against a tree--for I saw them stop like pointers on ahot grouse-scent just as we halted to dismount. I was unwilling toforestall him or take away one jot of the satisfaction, so I said:"What have you seen?"

  Then he beamed all over and told me; and the Weasel and Tim Murphy cameup to corroborate him, all eagerly pointing out the stone to me whereit rested against the base of a black ash.

  "Well," said I, smiling, "how do you interpret that sign?"

  "Iroquois!" said the rangers promptly.

  "Yes, but are they friendly or hostile?"

  The question seemed to them absurd, but they answered very civilly thatit was a signal of some sort which could only be interpreted byIndians, and that they had no doubt that it meant some sort of mischiefto us.

  "Men," I said quietly, "you are wrong. That stone leaning upon a treeis a friendly message to me from a body of our Oneida scouts."

  They stared incredulously.

  "I will prove it," said I. "Jack, go you to that stone. On the underside you will find a number of white marks made with paint. I can nottell you how many, but the number will indicate the number of Oneidaswho are scouting for us ahead."

  Utterly unconvinced, yet politely obedient, the blond giant strode offacross the road, picked up the great stone as though it were a pompion,turned it over, uttered an exclamation, and bore it back to us.

  "You see," I said, "twenty Oneida scouts will join us about two o'clockthis afternoon if we travel at the same rate that we are traveling.This white circle traced here represents the sun; the straight line themeridian. Calculating roughly, I should set the time of meeting at twoo'clock. Now, Jack, take the stone to the stream yonder and scrub offthe paint with moss and gun-oil, then drop the stone into the water.And you, Tim Murphy, go quietly among the men and caution them not tofire on a friendly Oneida. That is all, lads. We march in a fewmoments."

  The effect upon the rangers was amusing; their kindly airs ofgood-natured protection vanished; Mount gazed wildly at me; Tim Murphy,perfectly convinced yet unable to utter a word, saluted and marchedoff, while Elerson and the Weasel stood open-mouthed, fingering theirrifles until the men began to fall in silently, and I put up Elsin andmounted my roan, motioning Murphy and Jack Mount to my stirrups.

  "Small wonder I read such signs," I said. "I am an Oneida chief, anensign, and a sachem. Come freely to me when signs of the Iroquoispuzzle you. It would not have been very wise to open fire on our ownscouts."

  It seemed strange to them--it seemed strange to me--that I should beinstructing the two most accomplished foresters in America. Yet it isever the old story; all else they could read that sky and earth, landand water, tree and rock held imprinted for savant eyes, but they couldnot read the simple signs and symbols by which the painted men of thewoods conversed with one another. Pride, contempt for the savage--thesetwo weaknesses stood in their way. And no doubt, now, they consoledthemselves with the thought that a dead Iroquois, friendly orotherwise, was no very great calamity. This was a danger, but I did notchoose to make it worse by harping on it.

  About two o'clock a ranger of the advanced guard came running back tosay that some two score Iroquois, stripped and painted for war, weremaking signs of amity from the edge of the forest in front of us.

  I heard Mount grunt and Murphy swearing softly under his breath as Irode forward, with a nod to Elsin.

  "Now you will see some friends of my boyhood," I said gaily, unlacingthe front of my hunting-shirt as I rode, and laying it open to thewind.

  "Carus!" she exclaimed, "what is that blue mark on your breast?"

  "Only a wolf," I said, laughing. "Now you shall see how we Oneidas meetand greet after many years! Look, Elsin! See that Indian standing therewith his gun laid on his blanket? The three rangers have taken tocover. There they stand, watching that Oneida like three tree-cats."

  As I cantered up and drew bridle Elerson called out that there weretwenty savages in the thicket ahead, and to be certain that I was notmistaken.

  The tall Oneida looked calmly up at me; his glittering eyes fell uponmy naked breast, and, as he looked, his dark face lighted, and hestretched out both hands.

  "Onehda!" he ejaculated.

  I leaned from my saddle, holding his powerful hands in a close clasp.

  "Little Otter! Is it you, my younger brother? Is it really you?" Irepeated again and again, while his brilliant eyes seemed to devour myface, and his sinewy grip tightened spasmodically.

  "What happiness, Onehda!" he said, in his softly sonorous Oneidadialect. "What happiness for the young men--and the sachems--and thewomen and children, too, Onehda. It is well that you return to us--tothe few of us who are left. Koue!"

  And now the Oneidas were coming out of the willows, crowding up aroundmy horse, and I heard everywhere my name pronounced, and everywhereoutstretched hands sought mine, and painted faces were lifted tomine--even the blackened visage of the war-party's executioner relaxinginto the merriest of smiles.

  "Onehda," he said, "do you remember that feast when you were raisedup?"

  "Does an Oneida and a Wolf forget?" I said, smiling.

  An emphatic "No!" broke from the painted throng about me.

  Elsin, sitting her saddle at a little distance, watched us wide-eyed.

  "Brothers," I said quietly, "a new rose has budded in Tryon County. TheOneidas will guard it for the honor of their nation, lest the northernfrost come stealing south to blight the blossom."

  Two score dark eyes flashed on Elsin. She started; then a smile brokeout on her flushed face as a painted warrior stalked solemnly forward,bent like a king, and lifted the hem of her foot-mantle to his lips.One by one the Oneidas followed, performing the proud homage insilence, then stepping back to stand with folded arms as the head ofthe column appeared at the bend of the road.

  I called Little Otter to me, questioning him; and he said that as faras they had gone there were no signs of Mohawk or Cayuga, but that thebush beyond should be traversed with caution. So I called in theflanking rangers, replacing them with Oneidas,
and, sending the balanceof the band forward on a trot, waited five minutes, then started onwith a solid phalanx of riflemen behind to guard the rear.

  As we rode, Elsin and I talking in low tones, mile after mile slippedaway through the dim forest trail, and nothing to alarm us that Inoted, save once when I saw another stone set upon a stone; but I knewmy Oneidas had also seen and examined it, and it had not alarmed themsufficiently to send a warrior back to me.

  It was an Oneida symbol; but, of course, my scouts had not set it up.Therefore it must have been placed there by an enemy, but for whatpurpose except to arrest the attention of an Oneida and prepare him forlater signals, I could not yet determine. Mount had seen it, and spokenof it, but I shook my head, bidding him keep his eyes sharpened forfurther signs.

  Signs came sooner than I expected. We passed stone after stone set onend, all emphasizing the desire of somebody to arrest the attention ofan Oneida. Could it be I? A vague premonition had scarcely taken shapein my mind when, at a turn in the road, I came upon three of my Oneidascouts standing in the center of the road. The seven others must havegone on, for I saw nothing of them. The next moment I caught sight ofsomething that instantly riveted and absorbed my attention.

  From a huge pine towering ahead of us, and a little to the right, agreat square of bark had been carefully removed about four feet fromthe ground. On this fresh white scar were painted three significantsymbols--the first a red oblong, about eighteen inches by four, onwhich were designed two human figures, representing Indians, holdinghands. Below that, drawn in dark blue, were a pair of stag's antlers,of five prongs; below the antlers--a long way below--was depicted inblack a perfectly recognizable outline of a timber-wolf.

  I rode up to the tree and examined the work. The paint was still softand fresh on the raw wood. Flies swarmed about it. I looked at LittleOtter, making a sign, and his scarcely perceptible nod told me that Ihad read the message aright.

  The message was for me, personally and exclusively; and the red man whohad traced it there not an hour since was an Iroquois, either Canienga,Onondaga, Cayuga, or Seneca--I know not which. Roughly, the translationof the message was this: The Wolf meant me because about it were tracedthe antlers, symbol of chieftainship, and below, on the ground, thesymbol of the Oneida Nation, a long, narrow stone, upright, embedded inthe moss. The red oblong smear represented a red-wampum belt; thefigures on it indicated that, although the belt was red, meaning war,the clasped hands modified the menace, so that I read the entire signas follows:

  "An Iroquois desires to see you in order to converse upon a subjectconcerning wars and treaties."

  "Turn over that stone, Little Otter," I said.

  "I have already done so," he replied quietly.

  "At what hour does this embassy desire to see me?"

  He held up four fingers in silence.

  "Is this Canienga work?"

  "Mohawk!" he said bitterly.

  The two terms were synonymous, yet mine was respectful, his acontemptuous insult to the Canienga Nation. No Indian uses the termMohawk in speaking to or of a Mohawk unless they mean an insult.Canienga is the proper term.

  "Is it safe for me to linger here while all go forward?" I asked LittleOtter, lowering my voice so that none except he could hear me.

  He smiled and pointed at the tree. The tree was enormous, a giant pine,dwarfing the tallest tree within range of my vision from where I sat myhorse. I understood. The choice of this great tree for the inscriptionwas no accident; it now symbolized the sacred tree of the SixNations--the tree of heaven. Beneath it any Iroquois was as safe asthough he stood at the eternal council-fire at Onondaga in the presenceof the sachems of the Long House. But why had this unseen embassyrefused to trust himself to this sanctuary? Because of the rangers, towhom no redskin is sacred.

  "Jack Mount," I said, "take command and march your men forward half amile. Then halt and await me."

  He obeyed without a word. Elsin hesitated, gave me one anxious,backward glance, but my smile seemed to reassure her, and she walkedher black mare forward. Past me marched the little column. I watched itdrawing away northward, until a turn in the forest road hid the wagonand the brown-clad rear-guard. Then I dismounted and sat down, my backto the giant pine, my rifle across my knees, to wait for the redambassador whom I knew would come.

  Minute after minute slipped away. So still it grew that the shy forestcreatures came back to this forest runway, made by dreaded man; andbecause it is the work of a creature they dread and suspect, theircuriosity ever draws them to man-made roads. A cock-grouse firststepped out of the thicket, crest erect, ruff spread; then a hare lopedby, halting to sniff in the herbage. I watched them for a long while,listening intently. Suddenly the partridge wheeled, crest flattened,and ran into the thicket, like a great rat; the hare sat erect, flankspalpitating, then leaped twice, and was gone as shadows go.

  I saw the roadside bushes stir, part, and, as I rose, an Indian leapedlightly into the road and strode straight toward me. He was curiouslypainted with green and orange, and he was stark naked, except that hewore ankle-moccasins, clout, and a fringed pouch, like a quiver,covered with scarlet beads in zigzag pattern.

  He did not seem to notice that I was armed, for he carried his ownrifle most carelessly in the hollow of his left arm, and when he hadhalted before me he coolly laid the weapon across his moccasins.

  The dignified silence that always precedes a formal meeting of strangeIroquois was broken at length by a low, guttural exclamation as hisnarrow-slitted eyes fell upon the tattoo on my bared breast: "Salute,Roy-a-neh!"

  "Welcome, O Keeper of the Gate," I said calmly.

  "Does my younger brother know to which gate-warden he speaks?" askedthe savage warily.

  "When a Wolf barks, the Eastern Gate-Keepers of the Long House listen,"I replied. "It was so in the beginning. What has my elder brother ofthe Canienga to say to me?"

  His cunning glance changed instantly to an absolutely expressionlessmask. My white skin no longer made any difference to him. We were nowtwo Iroquois.

  "It is the truth," he said. "This is the message sent to my youngerbrother, Onehda, chief ensign of the Wolf Clan of the Oneida nation. Iam a belt-bearer. Witness the truth of what I say to you--by this belt.Now read the will of the Iroquois."

  He drew from his beaded pouch a black and white belt of seven rows. Itook it, and, holding it in both hands, gazed attentively into hisface.

  "The Three Wolves listen," I said briefly.

  "Then listen, noble of the noble clan. The council-fire is covered atOnondaga; but it shall burn again at Thendara. This was so from thefirst, as all know. The council therefore summons their brother,Onehda, as ensign of his clan. The will of the council is the will ofthe confederacy. Hiro! I have spoken."

  "Does a single coal from Onondaga still burn under the great tree, myelder brother?" I asked cautiously.

  "The great tree is at Onondaga," he answered sullenly; "the fire iscovered."

  Which was as much as to say that there was no sanctuary guaranteed anOneida, even at a federal council.

  "Tell them," I said deliberately, "that a belt requires a belt; and,when the Wolves talk to the Oneidas, they at Thendara shall beanswered. I have spoken."

  "Do the Three Wolves take counsel with the Six Bears and Turtles?" heasked, with a crafty smile.

  "The trapped wolf has no choice; his howls appeal to the wildernessentire," I replied emphatically.

  "But--a trapped wolf never howls, my younger brother; a lone wolf in apit is always silent."

  I flushed, realizing that my metaphor had been at fault. Yet now therewas to be nothing between this red ambassador and me except thesubtlest and finest shades of metaphor.

  "It is true that a trapped wolf never howls," I said; "because a pittedwolf is as good as a dead wolf, and a dead wolf's tongue hangs outsideways. But it is not so when the pack is trapped. Then the prisonersmay call upon the Wilderness for aid, lest a whole people sufferextermination."

  "Will my young
er brother take counsel with Oneidas?" he askedcuriously.

  "Surely as the rocks of Tryon point to the Dancers, naming the Oneidanation since the Great Peace began, so surely, my elder brother, shallOnehda talk to the three ensigns, brother to brother, clan to clan,lest we be utterly destroyed and the Oneida nation perish from theearth."

  "My younger brother will not come to Thendara?" he inquired withoutemotion.

  "Does a chief answer as squirrels answer one to another?--as crowreplies to crow?" I asked sternly. "Go teach the Canienga how to listenand how to wait!"

  His glowing eyes, fastened on mine, were lowered to the symbol on mybreast, then his shaved head bent, and he folded his powerful arms.

  "Onehda has spoken," he said respectfully. "Even a Delaware may claimhis day of grace. My ears are open, O my younger brother."

  "Then bear this message to the council: I accept the belt; my answershall be the answer of the Oneida nation; and with my reply shall gothree strings. Depart in peace, Bearer of Belts!"

  Lightly, gracefully as a tree-lynx, he stooped and seized his rifle,wheeled, passed noiselessly across the road, turned, and buried himselfin the tufted bushes. For an instant the green tops swayed, then not aripple of the foliage, not a sound marked the swift course of the nakedbelt-bearer through the uncharted sea of trees.

  Mounting my roan, I wheeled him north at a slow walk, preoccupied,morose, sadly absorbed in this new order of things where an Oneida nowmust needs answer a Mohawk as an Iroquois should once have answered anErie or an Algonquin. Alas for the great League! alas for the mightydead! Hiawatha! Atotarho! Where were they? Where now was our ownOdasete; and Kanyadario, and the mighty wisdom of Dekanawidah? The endof the Red League was already in sight; the Great Peace was broken; thedownfall of the Confederacy was at hand.

  At that northern tryst at Thendara, the nine sachems allotted to theCanienga, the fourteen sachems of the Onondaga, the eight Senecas, theCayuga ten must look in vain for nine Oneidas. And without them theGreat Peace breaks like a rotten arrow where the war-head drops and thefeathers fall from the unbound nock.

  Strange, strange, that I, a white man of blood untainted, must answerfor this final tragic catastrophe! Without me, perhaps, the sachems ofthe three clans might submit to the will of the League, for even thesurly Onondagas had now heeded the League-Call--yes, even theTuscaroras, too. And as for those Delaware dogs, they had come,belly-dragging, cringing to the lash of the stricken Confederacy,though now was their one chance in a hundred years to disobey and defy.But the Lenape were ever women.

  Strange, strange, that I, a white man of unmixed blood, should stand inLeague-Council for the noblest clan of the Oneida nation!

  That I had been adopted satisfied the hereditary law of chieftainship;that I had been selected satisfied the elective law of the sachems.Rank follows the female line; the son of a chief never succeeded torank. It is the matron--the chief woman of the family--who chooses adead chief's successor from the female line in descent; and thus Cloudon the Sun chose me, her adopted; and, dying, heard the loud, imperiouschallenge from the council-fire as the solemn rite ended with:

  "_Now show me the man!_"

  And so, knowing that the antlers were lifted and the quiver slungacross my thigh, she died contented, and I, a lad, stood a chief of theOneida nation. Never since time began, since the Caniengas adoptedHiawatha, had a white councilor been chosen who had been accepted byfamily, clan, and national council, and ratified by the federal senate,excepting only Sir William Johnson and myself. That Algonquin word"sachem," so seldom used, so difficult of pronunciation by theIroquois, was never employed to designate a councilor in council; therethey used the title, Roy-a-neh, and to that title had I answered thebelt of the Iroquois, in the name of Kayanehenh-Kowa, the Great Peace.

  For what Magna Charta is to the Englishman, what the Constitution is tous, is the Great Peace to an Iroquois; and their gratitude, theirintense reverence and love for its founder, Hiawatha, is like nosentiment we have conceived even for the beloved name of Washington.

  Now that the Revolution had split the Great Peace, which is theIroquois League, the larger portion of the nation had followed Brant toCanada--all the Caniengas, the greater part of the Onondaga nation, allthe Cayugas, the one hundred and fifty of our own Oneidas. And thoughthe Senecas did not desert their western post as keepers of theshattered gate in a house divided against itself, they acted with theMohawks; the Onondagas had brought their wampum from Onondaga, and anew council-fire was kindled in Canada as rallying-place of a greatpeople in process of final disintegration.

  It was sad to me who loved them, who knew them first as firm allies ofNew York province, who understood them, their true character, theirhistory and tradition, their intimate social and family life.

  And though I stood with those whom they struck heavily, and who in turnstruck them hip and thigh, I bear witness before God that they were notby nature the fiends and demons our historians have painted, not byinstinct the violent and ferocious scourges that the painted Toriesmade of these children of the forest, who for five hundred years hadformed a confederacy whose sole object was peace.

  I speak not of the brutal and degraded _gens de prairie_--thehorse-riding savages of the West, whose primal instincts are to torturethe helpless and to violate women--a crime no Iroquois, no Huron, noAlgonquin, no Lenni-Lenape can be charged with. But I speak for the_gens de bois_--the forest Indians of the East, and of those whomaintained the Great League, which was but a powerful tribunal imposingpeace upon half a continent.

  Left alone to themselves, unharassed by men of my blood and color, theyare a kindly and affectionate people, full of sympathy for theirfriends in distress, considerate of their women, tender to theirchildren, generous to strangers, anxious for peace, and profoundlyreverent where their League or its founders were concerned.

  Centuries of warfare for self-preservation have made them efficient inthe arts of war. Ferocity, craft, and deception, practised on them byFrench, Dutch, and English, have taught them to reply in kind. Yetthese somber, engrafted qualities which we have recorded as theirdistinguishing traits, no more indicate their genuine character thanwar-paint and shaven head display the customary costume they appear inamong their own people. The cruelties of war are not peculiar to anyone people; and God knows that in all the Iroquois confederacy nosavage could be found to match the British Provost, Cunningham, orMajor Bromfield--no atrocities could obscure the atrocities in theprisons and prison-ships of New York, the deeds of the Butlers, ofCrysler, of Beacraft, and of Bettys.

  For, among the Iroquois, I can remember only two who were the peers incruelty of Walter Butler and the Tory Beacraft, and these were theIndian called Seth Henry, and the half-breed hag, Catrine Montour.

  Pondering on these things, perplexed and greatly depressed, I presentlyemerged from the forest-belt through which I had been riding, and foundour little column halted in the open country, within a few minutes'march of the Schenectady highway.

  The rangers looked up at me curiously as I passed, doubtless having aninkling of what had been going on from questioning the Oneida scouts,for Murphy broke out impulsively, "Sure, Captain, we was that onaisy,alanna, that Elerson an' me matched apple-pipps f'r to inthrojuce wananother to that powwow forninst the big pine."

  "Had you appeared yonder while I was talking to that belt-bearer itmight have gone hard with me, Tim," I said gravely.

  Riding on past the spot where Jack Mount stood, his brief authorityended, I heard him grumbling about the rashness of officers and themarket value of a good scalp in Quebec; and I only said: "Scold as muchas you like, Jack, only obey." And so cantered forward to where Elsinsat her black mare, watching my approach. Her steady eyes welcomed,mine responded; in silence we wheeled our horses north once more,riding stirrup to stirrup through the dust. On either side stretchedabandoned fields, growing up in weeds and thistles, for now we werealmost on the Mohawk River, the great highway of the border war downwhich the tides of destruction and death ha
d rolled for four terribleyears.

  There was nothing to show for it save meadows abandoned to willowscrub, fallow fields deep in milk-weed, goldenrod, and asters; and hereand there a charred rail or two of some gate or fence long sincedestroyed.

  Far away across the sand-flats we could see a ruined barn outlinedagainst the sunset sky, but no house remained standing to the westwardfar as the eye could reach. However, as we entered the highway, which Iknew well, because now we were approaching a country familiar to me, I,leading, caught sight of a few Dutch roofs to the east, and presentlycame into plain view of the stockade and blockhouses of Schenectady,above which rose the lovely St. George's church and the heavy walls andfour demi-bastions of the citadel which is called the Queen's Fort.

  As we approached in full view of the ramparts there was a flash, a ballof white smoke; and no doubt a sentry had fired his musket, such wasevidently their present state of alarm, for I saw the Stars and Stripesrun up on the citadel, and, far away, I heard the conch-horn blowing,and the startled music of the light-infantry horns. Evidently the sightof our Oneidas, spread far forward in a semicircle, aroused distrust. Isent Murphy forward with a flag, then advanced very deliberately,recalling the Oneidas by whistle-signal.

  And, as we rode under the red rays of the westering sun, I pointed outSt. George's to Elsin and the Queen's Fort, and where were formerly thetown gates by which the French and Indians had entered on that dreadfulwinter night when they burned Schenectady, leaving but four or fivehouses, and the snowy streets all wet and crimsoned with the blood ofwomen and children.

  "But that was many, many years ago, sweetheart," I added, already sorrythat I had spoken of such things. "It was in 1690 that Monsieur DeMantet and his Frenchmen and Praying Indians did this."

  "But people do such things now, Carus," she said, serious eyes raisedto mine.

  "Oh, no----"

  "They did at Wyoming, at Cherry Valley, at Minnisink. You told me so inNew York--before you ever dreamed that you and I would be heretogether."

  "Ah, Elsin, but things have changed now that Colonel Willett is in theValley. His Excellency has sent here the one man capable of holding thefrontier; and he will do it, dear, and there will be no more CherryValleys, no more Minnisinks, no more Wyomings now."

  "Why were they moving out of the houses in Albany, Carus?"

  I did not reply.

  Presently up the road I saw Murphy wave his white flag; and, a momentlater, the Orange Gate, which was built like a drawbridge, fell with amuffled report, raising a cloud of dust. Over it, presently, ourhorses' feet drummed hollow as we spurred forward.

  "Pass, you Tryon County men!" shouted the sentinels; and the dustycolumn entered. We were in Schenectady at last.

  As we wheeled up the main street of the town, marching in close columnbetween double lines of anxious townsfolk, a staff-officer, wearing theuniform of the New York line, came clattering down the street from theQueen's Fort, and drew bridle in front of me with a sharp, precisesalute.

  "Captain Renault?" he asked.

  I nodded, returning his salute.

  "Colonel Gansvoort's compliments, and you are directed to report toColonel Willett at Butlersbury without losing an hour."

  "That means an all-night march," I said bluntly.

  "Yes, sir." He lowered his voice: "The enemy are on the Sacandaga."

  I stiffened in my stirrups. "Tell Colonel Gansvoort it shall be done,sir." And I wheeled my horse, raising my rifle: "Attention!--to theleft--dress! Right about face! By sections of four--to theright--wheel--March! ... Halt! Front--dress! Trail--arms! March!"

  The veterans of Morgan, like trained troop-horses, had executed themaneuvers before they realized what was happening. They were the firstformal orders I had given. I myself did not know how the orders mightbe obeyed until all was over and we were marching out of the OrangeGate once more, and swinging northward, wagons, bat-horses, and men insplendid alignment, and the Oneidas trotting ahead like a pack offoxhounds under master and whip. But I had to do with irregulars; Iunderstood that. Already astonished and inquiring glances shot upwardat me as I rode with Elsin; already I heard a low whispering among themen. But I waited. Then, as we turned the hill, a cannon on the Queen'sFort boomed good-by and Godspeed!--and our conch-horn sounded a long,melancholy farewell.

  It was then that I halted the column, facing them, rifle resting acrossmy saddle-bow.

  "Men of New York," I said, "the enemy are on the Sacandaga."

  Intense silence fell over the ranks.

  "If there be one rifleman here who is too weary to enter Johnstownbefore daylight, let him fall out."

  Not a man stirred.

  "Very well," I said, laughing; "if you Tryon County men are so keen forbattle, there's a dish o' glory to be served up, hot as sugar andsoupaan, among the Mayfield hills. Come on, Men of New York!"

  And I think they must have wondered there in Schenectady at the fiercecheering of Morgan's men as our column wheeled northwest once more,into the coming night.

  * * * * *

  We entered Johnstown an hour before dawn, not a man limping, nor ahorse either, for that matter. An officer from Colonel Willett met us,directing the men and the baggage to the fort which was formerly thestone jail, the Oneidas to huts erected on the old camping-ground westof Johnson Hall, and Elsin and me to quarters at Jimmy Burke's Tavern.She was already half-asleep in her saddle, yet ever ready to rouseherself for a new effort; and now she raised her drowsy head with aconfused smile as I lifted her from the horse to the porch of Burke'scelebrated frontier inn.

  "Colonel Willett's compliments, and he will breakfast with you at ten,"whispered the young officer. "Good night, sir."

  "Good night," I nodded, and entered the tavern, bearing Elsin in myarms, now fast asleep as a worn-out child.