CHAPTER XV
WEST RIVER
The Water-snake caught an Adirondack just before ten o'clock, and washolding him on the trail as I came up, followed by Luysnes and Thiohero.
The Indian was a poor, starved-looking creature in ragged buckskins andlong hair, from which a few wild-turkey quills fell to his scrawny neck.
He wore no paint, had been armed with a trade-rifle, the hammer of whichwas badly loosened and mended with copper wire, and otherwise he carriedarrows in a quiver and a greasy bow.
Like a fierce, lean forest thing, made abject by fear, the Adirondack'ssloe-black eyes now flickered at me, now avoided my gaze. I looked downat the rags which served him for a blanket, and on which lay hiswretched arms, including knife and hatchet.
"Let him loose," said I to the Water-snake; "here is no Mengwe but apoor brother, who sees us armed and in our paint and is afraid."
And I went to the man and offered my hand. Which he touched as though Iwere a rattlesnake.
"Brother," said I, "we white men and Oneidas have no quarrel with anySaguenay that I know about. Our quarrel is with the Canienga, and thatis the reason we wear paint on this trail. And we have stopped ourSaguenay brother in the forest on his lawful journey, to say to him, andto all Saguenays, that we mean them no harm."
There was an absolute silence; Luysnes and Thiohero drew closer aroundthe Tree-eater; the Water-snake gazed at his captive in slight disgust,yet, I noticed, held his rifle in a position for instant use.
The Saguenay's slitted eyes travelled from one to another, then helooked at me.
"Brother," I said, "how many Maquas are there camped near the BigEddy?"
His low, thick voice answered in a dialect or language I did notcomprehend.
"Can you speak Iroquois?" I demanded.
He muttered something in his jargon. Thiohero touched my arm:
"The Saguenay says he understands the Iroquois tongue, but can speak itonly with difficulty. He says that he is a hunter and not a warrior."
"Ask him to answer me concerning the Maqua."
A burst of volubility spurted from the prisoner.
Again the girl translated the guttural reply:
"He says he saw painted Mohawks fishing in the Big Eddy, and otherswatching the trail. He does not know how many, because he can not countabove five numbers. He says the Mohawks stoned him and mocked him,calling him Tree-eater and Woodpecker; and they drove him away from theBig Eddy, saying that no Saguenay was at liberty to fish in Caniengaterritory until permitted by the Canienga; and that unless he startedback to Canada, where he belonged, the Iroquois women would catch himand beat him with nettles."
As Thiohero uttered the dread name, Canienga, I could see our captiveshrink with the deep fear that the name inspired. And I think anyIroquois terrified him, for it seemed as though he dared not sustain thehalf-contemptuous, half-indifferent glances of my Oneidas, but his eyesshifted to mine in dumb appeal for refuge.
"What is my brother's name?" I asked.
"Yellow Leaf," translated the girl.
"His clan?"
"The Hawk," she said, shrugging her shoulders.
"Nevertheless," said I, very quietly, "my Saguenay brother is a man, andnot an animal to be mocked by the Maqua!"
And I stooped and picked up his blanket and weapons, and gave them tohim.
"The Saguenays are free people," said I. "The Yellow Leaf is free as ishis clan ensign, the Hawk. Brother, go in peace!"
And I motioned my people forward.
Our flankers, who, keeping stations, had waited, now started on again,the Water-snake running swiftly to his post on the extreme right flank.
After ten minutes' silent and swift advance, Thiohero came lightly to myside on the trail.
"Brother," she whispered, "was it well considered to let loose thatTree-eating rover in our rear?"
"Would the Oneida take such a wretched trophy as that poor hunter'stangled scalp?"
"_Neah._ Yet, I ask again, was it wisdom to let him loose, who, for amouthful of parched corn, might betray us to the Mengwe?"
"Poor devil, he means no harm to anybody."
"_Then why does he skulk after us?_"
Startled, I turned and caught a glimpse of something slinking on theridge between our flankers; but was instantly reassured because noliving thing could dog us without discovery from the rear. And presentlyI did see the Screech-owl run forward and hurl a clod of moss into thethicket; and the Saguenay broke cover like a scared dog, running perdueso that he came close to Hanatoh, who flung a stick at him.
That was too much for me; and, as the Tree-eater bolted past me, Iseized him.
"Come," said I, dragging him along, "what the devil do you want of us?Did I not bid you go in peace?"
Thiohero caught him by the other arm, and he panted some jargon at her.
"Koue!" she exclaimed, and her long, sweet whistle of the Canada sparrowinstantly halted us in our tracks, flankers, rearguard, and all.
Thiohero, still holding the Saguenay by his lean, muscular arm, spokesharply to him in his jargon; then, at his reply, looked up at me withthe flaming eyes of a lynx.
"Brother," said she, "this Montagnais hunter has given an account thatthe Maquas have prepared an ambuscade, knowing we are on the GreatTrail."
I said, coolly: "What reason does the Saguenay give for returning to uswith such a tale?"
"He says," she replied, "that we only, of all Iroquois or white men hehas ever encountered, have treated him like a man and not as an uncleanbeast.
"He says that my white brother has told him he is a man, and that ifthis is true he will act as real men act.
"He says he desires to be painted upon the breast with a little redfoot, and wishes to go into battle with us. And," she added naively, "toan Oneida this seems very strange that a Saguenay can be a real man!"
"Paint him," said I, smiling at the Saguenay.
But no Oneida would touch him. So, while he stripped to the clout andbegan to oil himself from the flask of gun-oil I offered, I got fromhim, through Thiohero, all he had noticed of the ambuscade prepared forus, and into which he himself had run headlong in his flight from thestones and insults of the Mohawks at the Big Eddy.
While he was thus oiling himself, Luysnes shaved his head with hishunting blade, leaving a lock to be braided. Then, very quickly, I tookblue paint from Thiohero and made on the fellow's chest a hawk. And,with red paint, under this I made a little red foot, then painted hisfierce, thin features as the girl directed, moving a dainty fingerhither and thither but never touching the Saguenay.
To me she said disdainfully, in English: "My brother John, this is awild wolf you take hunting with you, and not a hound. The Saguenays arereal wolves and not to be tamed by white men or Iroquois. And like alone wolf he will run away in battle. You shall see, brother John."
"I hope not, little sister."
"You shall see," she repeated, her pretty lip curling as Luysnes beganto braid the man's scalp-lock. "You think him a warrior, now, because heis oiled and wears war paint and lock. But I tell you he is only a wildMontagnais hunter. Warriors are not made with a word."
"Sometimes men are," said I pleasantly.
The girl came closer to me, looked up into my face with unfeignedcuriosity.
"What manner of white man are you, John?" she asked. "For you speak likea preacher, yet you wear no skirt and cross, as do the priests of thePraying Indians."
"Little sister," said I, taking both her hands, "I am only a young mangoing into battle for the first time; and I have yet to fire my firstshot in anger. If my white and red brothers--and if you, littlesister--do full duty this day, then we shall be happy, living or dead.For only those who do their best can look the Holder of Heaven in theface."
She gave me a strange glance; our hands parted. I gave theCanada-sparrow call in the minor key--as often the bird whistles--and,at the signal, all my scouts came creeping in.
"We cross West River here," said I, "and go by the le
ft bank in the sameorder of march, crossing the shoulder of the mountain by the Big Eddy,then fording the river once more, so as to take their ambuscade from thenorth and in the rear."
They seemed to understand. The Montagnais, in his new paint, came aroundbehind me like some savage dog that trusts only his owner. And I saw myOneidas eyeing him as though of two minds whether to ignore him or sinka hatchet into his narrow skull.
"Who first sights a Mohawk," said I, "shall not fire or try to take ascalp to satisfy his own vanity and his desire for glory. No. He shallreturn to me and report what he sees. For it is my business to order theconduct of this battle.... March!"
* * * * *
We had forded West River, crept over the mountain's shoulder, recrossedthe river roaring between its rounded and giant bowlders, and now werecreeping southward toward the Big Eddy.
Already I saw ahead of me the brook that dashes into that greatcrystal-green pool, where, in happier days, I have angled for those hugetrout that always lurk there.
And now I caught a glimpse of the pool itself, spreading out betweenforested shores. But the place was still as death; not a living thingnor any sign of one was to be seen there--not a trace of a fire, nor ofany camp filth, nor a canoe, nor even a broken fern.
Moment after moment, I studied the place, shore and slope and hollow.
Tahioni, flat on his belly in the Great Trail, lay listening and lookingup the slope, where our Saguenay had warned us Death lay waiting.
The Water-snake slowly shook his head and cast a glance of fiercesuspicion at the Montagnais, who lay beside me, grasping his sorrytrade-rifle, his slitted gaze of a snake fixed on the forest depthsahead.
Suddenly, Nick caught my arm in a nervous grasp, and "My God!" says he,"what is that in the tree--in the great hemlock yonder?"
And now we began to see their sharpshooters as we crawled forward,standing upright on limbs amid the foliage of great evergreens, to scanthe trail ahead and the forest aisles below--these Mohawk panthers thatwould slay from above.
Under them, hidden close to the ground, lay their comrades on eitherside of the little ravine, through which the trail ran. We could not seethem, but we never doubted they were there.
Four of their tree-cat scouts were visible: I made the sign; our riflescrashed out. And, thump! slap! thud! crash! down came their deada-sprawling and bouncing on the dead leaves. And up rose their astoundedcomrades from every hollow, bush and windfall, only to drop flat at ourrifles' crack, and no knowing if we had hit any among them.
A veil of smoke lay low among the ferns in front of us. There was aterrible silence in the forest, then screech on screech rent the air, asthe panther slogan rang out from our unseen foes; and, like a dreadfulecho, my Oneidas hurled their war cry back at them; and we all sprang toour feet and moved swiftly forward, crouching low in our own riflesmoke.
There came a shot, and a cloud spread among the boughs of a tallhemlock; but the fellow left his tree and slid down on t'other side,like a squirrel, and my wild Saguenay was after him in a flash.
I saw the Oneidas looking on as though stupefied; saw the Saguenay,shoulder deep in witch-hopple, seize something, heard the mad struggle,and ran forward with Tahioni, only to hear the yelping scalp-cry of theMontagnais, and see him in the tangle of witch-hopple, both knees on hisvictim's shoulders, ripping off the scalp, his arms and body spatteredwith blood.
The stupefaction of the Oneidas lasted but a second, then their battleyell burst out in jealous fury indescribable.
I saw Tahioni chasing a strange Indian through a little hollow full offerns; saw Godfrey Shew raise his rifle and kill the fugitive as coollyas though he were a running buck.
Nick, his shoulder against a beech tree, stood firing with greatdeliberation at something I could not see.
The three Frenchmen, de Golyer, Luysnes, and Johnny, had gone around, asthough deer driving, and were converging upon a little wooded knoll,from which a hard-wood hogback ran east.
Over this distant ridge, like shadows, I could see somebody's light feetrunning, checkered against the sunshine beyond, and I fired, judging aman's height, if stooping. And saw something dark fall and roll downinto a gully full o' last year's damp and rotting leaves.
Re-charging my rifle, I strove to realize that I had slain, but couldnot, so fierce the flame in me was burning at the thought of thechildren's scalps these Iroquois had taken.
"Is he down, Johnny Silver?" I bawled.
"Fairly paunched!" shouted Luysnes. "Tell your Oneidas they can take hishair, for I shan't touch it."
But Johnny Silver, in no wise averse, did that office very cheerfully.
"Nom de Dieu!" he panted, tugging at the oiled lock and wrenching freethe scalp; "I have one veree fine jou-jou, sacre garce! I take two; mekfor me one fine wallet!"
Down by the river the rifles were cracking fast and a smoke mist filledthe woods. Ranging widely eastward we had turned their left flank--nowtheir right--and were forcing them to a choice between the Sacandagatrail southward or the bee-line back to Canada by the left bank of WestRiver.
How many there were of them I never have truly learned; but thatscarcely matters to the bravest Indian, when ambuscaded and taken socompletely by surprise from the rear.
No Indians can stand that, and but few white men are able to rally undersuch circumstances.
The Screech-owl, locked in a death struggle with a young Mohawk, brokehis arm, stabbed him, and took his scalp before I could run to his aid.
And there on the ground lay four other scalps, two of white children,with the Little Red Foot painted on all.
I looked down at the dead murderer. He was a handsome boy, not twenty,and wore a white mask of war paint and two bars of scarlet on his chin,I thought--then realized that they were two thick streaks of runningblood.
"May his clan bewail him!" shouted the burly Screech-owl. "Let theMohawk women mourn their dead who died this day at West River! TheOneida mock them! Koue!" And his terrific scalp-yell pierced the racketof the rifles.
I heard a gruffling sound and thick breathing from behind a pine, wherethe Water-snake was scalping one of the tree-cat scouts--grunting andpanting as he tugged at the tough and shaven skin, which he had graspedin his teeth, plying his knife at the same time because the circularincision had not been continuous.
Suddenly I felt sick, and leaned against a tree, fighting nausea and agreat dizziness. And was aware of an arm around my shoulder.
Whereupon I straightened up and saw the little maid of Askalege besideme, looking at me very strangely.
At the same instant I heard a great roaring and cursing and a crashamong the river-side willows, and was horrified to see Nick down on hisback a-clawing and tearing and cuffing a Mohawk warrior, who wasclinging to him and striving to use his hatchet.
We made but a dozen leaps of it, Thiohero and I, and were in a wasp-nestof Mohawks ere we knew it.
I heard Nick roar again with pain and fury, but had my hands too full tosuccor him, for a wild beast painted yellow was choking me and wrestlingme off my feet, and little Thiohero was fighting like a demon with herknife, on the water's edge.
The naked warrior I clutched was so vilely oiled that my fingers slippedover him as though it were an eel I plucked at, and his foul andstinking breath in my face was like a full fed bear's.
Then, as he strangled me, out of darkening eyes I saw his armlifted--glimpsed the hatchet's sparkle--saw an arm seize his, saw abroad knife pass into his belly as though it had been butter--passthrice, slowly, ripping upward so that he stood there, alreadygralloched, yet still breathing horribly and no bowels in him.... Hisfalling hatchet clinked among the stones. Then he sank like a strickenbull, bellowed, and died.
And, as he fell, I heard my Saguenay gabbling, "Brother! brother!" in myears, and felt his hand timidly seeking mine.
Breath came back, and eyesight, too, in time to see Nick and his Mohawkenemy on their feet again, and the Indian strike my comrade with clubbed
rifle, turn, and dart into the willows.
My God, what a crack! And down went Nick, like a felled pine in thethicket.
But now in my ears rang a distressful crying, like a gentle wild thingwounded to the death; and I saw two Mohawks had got the little maid ofAskalege between them, and were drowning her in the Big Eddy.
I ran out into the water, but Tahioni, her brother, came in a flyingleap from the bank above me, and all four went down under water as Ireached them.
They came up blinded, staggering, one by one, and I got Thiohero by thehair, where she lay in shallow water, and dragged her ashore behind me.
Then I saw her brother clear his eyes of water and swing his hatchetlike swift lightning, and heard the smashing skull stroke.
The other Mohawk dived like an otter between us, and I strove to spearhim with my knife, but only slashed him and saw the long, thin string ofblood follow where he swam under water.
My powder-pan was wet and flashed when I tried to shoot him, where Istood shoulder deep in the Big Eddy.
Then came a thrashing, splashing roar like a deer herd crossing a marshycreek, and, below us, I saw a dozen Mohawks leap into the water andthrash their way over. And not a rifle among us that was dry enough totake a toll of our enemies crossing the West River plain in sight!
Lord, what a day! And not fought as I had pictured battles. No! For itwas blind combat, and neither managed as planned nor in any kind oforder or discipline. Nor did we ever, as I have said, discover how manyenemies were opposed to us. And I am certain they believed that a fullregiment had struck their rear; otherwise, I think it had proven a verybloody business for me and my people. Because the Mohawks are bravewarriors, and only the volley at their backs and the stupefyingdown-crash of their tree-scouts demoralized them and left them capableonly of fighting like cornered wild things in a maddened effort to getaway.
Lord, Lord! What a battle! For all were filthy with blood, and therewere brains and hair and guts sticking to knives and hatchets, andbodies and limbs all smeared. Good God! Was this war? And the greenflies already whirling around us in the sunshine, and settling on thefaces of the dead!--
* * * * *
The little maid of Askalege, leaning on her brother's shoulder, wascoughing up water she had swallowed.
Nick, with a bloody sconce, but no worse damage, sat upon a rock andwashed out his clotted hair.
"Hell!" quoth he, when he beheld me. "Here be I with a broken poll, andyonder goes the Indian who gave it me."
"Sit still, idiot!" said I, and set the ranger's whistle to my lips.
White and red, my men came running from their ferocious hunting. Not aman was missing, which was another lesson in war to me, for I thoughtalways that death dealt hard with both sides, and I could not understandhow so many guns could be fired with no corpse to mourn among us.
We had taken ten scalps; and, as only Johnny Silver among my whitepeople fancied such trophies, my Oneidas skinned the noddles of ourquarry, and, like all Indians, counted any scalp a glory, no matterwhose knife or bullet dropped the game.
We all bore scratches, and some among us were stiff, so that the scratchmight, perhaps, be called a wound. A bullet had barked de Golyer,another had burned Tahioni; Silver proudly wore a knife wound; theScreech-owl had been beaten and somewhat badly bitten. As for Nick, hishead was cracked, and the little maid of Askalege still spewed water.
As for me, my throat was so swollen and bruised I could scarce speak orswallow.
However, there was work still to be done, so I took Godfrey and Luysnes,the Screech-owl, and the Water-snake; motioned Yellow Leaf, theMontagnais to follow, and set off across West River, determined to driveour enemies so deep into the wilderness that they would never forget theBig Eddy as long as they survived on earth.
The Little Red Foot Page 15
