CHAPTER XI
The rain fell thickly until midnight, and kept me listening to thedouble roll of the drops along the shingles. I lay in my blanket underthe roof, and slept when the rain ceased, but awoke before dawn,listening to the wind roaring around the eaves. Pale clouds, scuddinglow, alternately hid and revealed the purple roof of sky on whichstars hung trembling like drops of dew.
My landlord, Timothy Boyd, was already astir below, and presently hecame up the ladder with a dish of porridge for me--a kindness, indeed,for I had thought to set out for the Cayuga castle on an emptystomach. He also brought me a bowl of coffee, the berries of which hesaid had been sent for my use by Colonel Cresap. I drank the coffeethankfully, sitting on my mattress of balsam tips. Then, bylanthorn-light, I dressed me, taking only bullet-pouch, powder-horn,and rifle, and bearing the six belts in the bosom of my shirt. I leftmy pack with Boyd, commending it to his care; and the rugged old mannodded placidly, bidding me rest assured of its safety.
"There is foul company at the 'Greathouse Inn,'" he said, as wedescended the ladder to the tap-room below. "Greathouse received fourguests an hour ago. Mount bade me warn you, sir. He said you wouldunderstand."
I understood at once. Butler, Wraxall, Toby Tice, and the fourthmember of the band had arrived in Cresap's camp. But I cared not; Iwas about to accomplish my mission under their four noses, and live tobalance my account with them later.
"Is Mount sleeping?" I asked.
The old man laughed.
"I have never seen him sleep," he said. "I know him well, but I havenever seen him asleep. He is out yonder, somewhere, prowling."
"And Shemuel?--and Cade Renard?" I inquired.
"Shemuel is on his way to Pittsburg; Renard mouses with Mount. Is yourrifle loaded, sir? There be foul company at the other inn. This night,too, did Greathouse make nine savages drunk with spirits. Have a carethat they cross not your path, young man; for, drunk, your Indians goblind like rattlesnakes in September, and like those serpents, too,they strike without warning. Have a care, sir!"
"I wish you knew the Indians as well as I do," said I, smiling. "Ifear none of them, save the Lenni-Lenape, and these I fear onlybecause I have never known them. I think the whole world can be tamedwith kindness."
Boyd shook his gray head, watching me in silence.
A brisk southwest wind was singing through the pines as I steppedout-of-doors and peered cautiously about. There was nothing stirringsave the wind and the unseen leaves in the forest. I primed my rifleand sheltered the pan under the hollow of my arm, then stole forthinto the starlit road.
To gain the river, whence the trail ran northward to the Cayuga camp,I was obliged to pass the fort, and consequently the "Greathouse Inn."But I had no fear at this hour o' morning, and I trotted on along thestump fence like a cub-fox in his proper runway, until the first curvein the road brought me to Greathouse's inn.
Shutters were drawn and bolted over every window, but candle-lightstreamed through loopholes in the tap-room, and I could hear mensinging within and tapping on bowls with spoons:
"My true love is old Brown Bess."
Nosing the house delicately, I perceived odours of cooking, of rumtoddy, and of tobacco smoke. Clearly Butler's company were suppingafter their long jog on the back trail from Fortress Pitt.
Satisfied that all was safe, I had silently begun skirting the roadditch shadowed by the fence, when a dark heap, which I had taken for astump in the road, moved, rolled over, and moaned.
I stopped, frozen motionless. After a moment's wary reconnoitring, Icrept forward again along the ditch, eyes fastened on the dim shapeahead, a human form lying in the black shadows of the road.
When I came closer I understood. At my feet, in a drunken stupor,sprawled a young Cayuga girl, limbs plastered with mud, body saturatedand reeking with the stench of spirits. Her black hair floated in apool of rain which spread out reflecting stars. One helpless handclutched the mud.
I lifted the little thing and bore her to the shadow of the fence; buthere, to my amazement, lay a drunken squaw, doubtless her mother,still clinging to an empty bottle; and, along the ditch and fence,flung in beastly, breathing heaps, I counted seven more barbarians,old and young, from the infant of ten to the young buck of twenty, allapparently of the same family, and all in a sodden swoon.
This was the work, then, done by a single agent of my Lord Dunmore,Royal Governor of Virginia!
Like torpid snakes they lay there, glistening in the grass, thechildren naked, the mother in rags, breathing out poison under thestars. The very air of morn sweated rum; candle-light from theloopholes fell across the bodies, flung limply on the grass.
There was nothing I could do for these victims of Greathouse; no aidwithin my power to give them. Heartsick, I turned away, and,quickening my steps, passed swiftly down the muddy trail, hastening tomend my pace ere dawn should find me missing at the council-firesburning for me on the dark Ohio.
There were no lights in the fort as I passed; the flag-staff stood outbare against the stars. On the epaulement above the outer trenchsomething moved, probably a sentry.
But ere I reached the Ohio the eastern sky had turned saffron, throughwhich stars still twinkled; and the drifted mist-banks lay heaped farout across the river, so I could not see the water, and must followits course along the edge of this phantom stream, whose current wasvapour and whose waves of piled-up clouds rolled noiselessly under thestars.
No birds fluted from the mist; even the winds had blown far awaysomewhere into the gray morning. But the Cayuga trail was broad andplain, and I took it at a wolf-trot, thoughtfully reading itscountless signs by the yellow dawn as I went along, marks of whitemen, marks of moccasins, imprint of deer and cattle, trail of rabbitand following fox, and the hand-like traces of rambling raccoons. On,on, north upon the broad Cayuga trail, while through the brighteningwoods sleep fled with the mist and the world awoke around me. Land andriver roused with breathing and sigh and scarce-heard stir; throughearth and water the pulse of life fluttered and beat on, timed for themoment by the swift rhythm of my flying feet.
And now a thread of blue smoke, drawn far down the trail, set mynostrils wide and quivering; a flare of blinding yellow turned theworld into gold; I had met the sun at the Cayuga camp; the tryst hadbeen kept, thanks to the Lord!
Dark, uncertain forms loomed up in the eye of the sun, tall groupsthat never moved as I drew nigh; men who stood motionless as the pineswhere the council-fire smoked and flashed like a dull jewel in thesun.
"Peace!" I said, halting, with upraised hand. "Peace, you wise men andsachems!"
"Peace!" repeated a low voice. "Peace, bearer of belts!"
I moved nearer, head high, yet seeing in a blur, for the rising sunblinded me. And when I came to the edge of the fire, I drew a whitebelt of wampum from my bosom, and, passing it through the smoke, heldit aloft, flashing in the sun, until every chief and sachem had sunkdown into their blankets, forming a half-circle before me.
A miracle of speech came to me like the breath of my body; easy,sober, flowing words followed. I spoke as I had never dared hope Imight speak. Forgotten phrases, caressing idioms, words long lost flewto aid me, yet not so fast that they crowded, stumbling and chokingspeech.
As I spoke, sight slowly returned to my dazzled eyes. I saw thesachems' painted masks, the totems of three tribes repeated on blanketand lodge, the Cayuga pipe-symbol hanging from the lodge posts, thewitch-drum swinging under a bush, where ten stems had been peeledivory white. Behind all this I saw the green amphitheatre of trees,blue films of smoke floating from unseen lodges, and over all theradiance of sunrise painting earth and sky with pale fire.
Belt after belt I passed through the fragrant birch-smoke; I spoke tothem as Sir William had spoken to Quider with three belts, and mywords were earnest and pitiful, for my heart was full of tendernessfor Sir William and for these patient children of his, these lostones, so far from the doors of the Long House.
The ceremony of condolence was
more than a ceremony for me; with eagersympathy I raised up the three stricken tribes; I sweetened the ashesof the eternal fires; I cleared evil from the Cayuga trail, and laidthe ghastly ghosts of those who stood in forest highways to confrontthe fifth nation of the great confederacy.
"Oonah! Oonah!" whimpered the wind in the pines, but I stilled thewinds and purified them, and I cleansed the million needles of thepines with a belt and an enchanted word.
The last belt was passed, flashing through the smoke; the chief sachemof the Cayugas rose to receive it, a tall, withered man of the Wolftribe, painted and draped in scarlet. His dim, wrinkled eyes peered atme through the smoke.
For a long time the silence was broken only by the rustling flamesbetween us; then the old man placed the belt at his feet, straightenedup, and spoke feebly:
"_Brother_: It is to be known that the Six Nations never meet incouncil when mourning, until some brother speaks as you have spoken.
"_Brother_: We mourn great men dead. Our Father, through you, ourElder Brother, has purified our fires, our throats, our eyes. Wherethe dead sat among us, three tribes have you raised up.
"_Brother_: Listen attentively!"
Behind him from the great painted lodge nine Indian boys entered thefire-circle and stood proudly with folded arms and heads erect. Andthe old sachem, in his scarlet robes, laid his shaking hand on eachyouth as he passed, always turning his aged eyes to peer at me as herepeated in his feeble, cracked voice of a child:
"We acquaint you that one of our sachems, called Quider, is dead; weraise up this boy in his place and give him the same name."
And, after each boy had been named from one of the dead Cayugas, hegave me a string of wampum to confirm it, while the chant ofcondolence rose from the seated chiefs and sachems, a never-endingrepetition of brave histories, and prophecy of brave deeds from thebeginning of all things through the stilled centuries into the farfuture locked in silence.
Hour after hour I stood with bent head and arms folded on my breast.Sometimes I prayed as I stood, that evil be averted from these wardsof our King; sometimes I grew hot with anger at the men who could sovilely misuse them.
Dreaming there amid the scented birch-smoke, the chant intoning withthe mourning pines, sombre visions took shape within my brain. I couldnot lay these ghosts, awful spectres of ruin and death crowding arounda pallid, flabby, toothless creature of silks and laces, my LordDunmore, smirking at Terror wearing the merciless mask of Butler.
Around me the ceremony of condolence seemed to change to the sinisterand grotesque Honnonouaroria or Dream Feast, with its naked demonshurling fire-brands; I swayed where I stood, then stumbled back out ofthe scented smoke which had nigh stupefied me. I opened my eyesdizzily. My ears were ringing with the interminable chant:
"Sah-e-ho-na, Sah-e-ho-na."
I crossed my arms and waited, careful to keep out of the sweet smokewhich had stolen away my senses and set me dreaming of horrors.
The sun hung above the pines; a slender purple cloud belted it, acelestial belt in pledge of promised storms, gathering somewherebeyond the world's green rim.
I watched the cloud growing; the sun died out through a golden smotherfrom which plumes of vapour swept over the heavens, thickening tillall the sky was covered with painted fleece. And, as I watched thestorm's banners hanging from midheaven, the chant ended, and, insilence, three chiefs arose and moved towards me through the smoke.One by one they spoke to me, naming themselves: Yellow Hand,Tamarack, the ancient sachem robed in scarlet, and lastly thewar-chief, Sowanowane.
It was Tamarack who continued:
"_Brother_: We have heard. The Three Ensigns of our nation haveheard."
(_A belt._)
"_Brother_: We all bear patiently this great wrong done us by ColonelCresap. We are patient because Sir William asks it of us. But underthese tall pines around us lie hatchets, buried deep among thepine-trees' roots. See, brother! Our hands are clean. We have not dugin the earth for hatchets."
(_A belt of seven._)
"_Brother_: We pray that our elder cousin, Lord Dunmore, will removefrom us his agent Greathouse. We pray that no more spirits be sold tothe Cayugas. We pray this because we cannot resist an offered cup. Wepray this because we drink--and die. It is death to us, death to ourchildren, death to our nation."
(_A black belt._)
"_Brother_: Bear our belts to our Father, Sir William Johnson, and toour elder cousin, Lord Dunmore. Intercede with them that they may heedour prayers."
(_A bunch of three._)
"_Brother_: Depart in health and honour, bearing these sacred belts ofpeace--"
A frightful scream cut him short; scream after scream arose from thehidden lodges.
The assembly, gathered at the sanctuary of the council-fire, rose in abody, blankets falling to the ground, paralyzed, silent, while thehorrid screaming rose to an awful, long-drawn shriek.
Somebody was coming--somebody plodding heavily, shrieking at everystep, nearer, nearer--an old woman who staggered out into the circleof the council, dragging the limp body of a young girl.
"Nine!" she gasped. "Nine slain at dawn by Greathouse! Nine of thefamily of Logan! Look, you wise men and sachems! Look at Logan'schild! Dead! Slain by Greathouse! Nine! Mother and children lie by theroad, slain as they slept; slain, sleeping the poisoned sleep ofGreathouse! Dead! Dead! Dead!"
Stupidly the sachems stared at the naked corpse, flung on the blanketsat their feet. The scented smoke curled over the murdered child,blowing east and south.
Dry-eyed, sick with horror, I moved forward, and the stir seemed toarouse the sachems. One by one they looked down at the dead, thenturned their flashing eyes on me. I strove to speak; I could not uttera sound.
The old sachem bent slowly and took a handful of ashes from the coldembers. Then, rubbing them on his face, he flung down every belt I hadgiven him and signed to me to do the same with the belts delivered tome.
When I had dropped the last belt, Yellow Hand made a sign, and everychief, save Sowanowane, the war-chief, covered his head with hisblanket. I fixed my eyes on the war-chief, dreading lest he hurl a redbelt at my feet. But he only bent his head, bidding me depart with agesture. And I went, stunned by the calamity that had come aslightning to blast the work I had done.
As I dragged myself back, heart-broken, leaden-footed, behind me Iheard the death-wail rising in the forest, the horrid screaming ofwomen, the fierce yelps of the young men, the thump! thump! thump! ofthe drum, dry and sharp as a squirrel's barking.
Utterly overwhelmed by the catastrophe, I wandered aimlessly into theforest and sat down. Hour after hour I sat there, and my shockedsenses strove only to find some way to avert the consequences of thedeed wrought by Greathouse. But the awful work had been done; theGordian knot cut; my Lord Dunmore's war had begun at last, indeference to my Lord Dunmore's desires, and in accordance with hisplans. Now, Cresap must fight; now, the Six Nations would rise toavenge the Cayugas on the colonies; now, the King of England wouldhave the savage allies he desired so ardently, and the foul pact wouldbe sealed with the blood of Logan's children!
"Never, by God's grace!" I cried out, in my agony; and I stumbled tomy feet, my head burning and throbbing as though it would burst. Thewoods had grown dim; the day was already near its end--this bloodyday! this sad day which had dawned so hopefully for all! Suddenly Ibegan running through the forest, gnashing my teeth and cursing theKing whom such servants as Dunmore served.
"Faster, oh, faster," I muttered, as I ran; "faster to slay thisdevil, Butler, who has counselled Greathouse to this deed!"
Again and again I stumbled and fell, but rose, not feeling thebruises, crazed to do vengeance on the wicked men who outraged God byliving. But truly, vengeance is the Lord's, and He alone may repay,nor was I the instrument He chose for His wrath. Swiftly I ran,swifter ran His purpose; for, behold! a man rose up in my path andheld me fast, a soldier, who shook me and shouted at me until mysenses, which had sped before me with my v
engeance, halted andreturned. Presently I began to understand his words, and listened.
"Are ye mad?" he repeated. "Can't ye see the savages across the riverfollowing? The Cayugas are loose on the Ohio! It is war!"
Other men crept up and dropped into cover behind the trees around me;some were colonial soldiers, some farmers from the camp, some huntersin wool shirts and caps. All at once I saw Colonel Cresap come outinto the trail close by, and, when he perceived me, he cried: "Logan'schildren have been murdered by Greathouse! The Cayugas are swarming onthe Ohio!"
I hastened to his side and begged him to let me carry his promise tothe Cayugas that Greathouse should be punished, and that his colonistswould retire. He shook his head.
"Greathouse has fled to Pittsburg," he said. "I cannot retire with mypeople because they would not follow me. It is too late, Mr. Cardigan;Dunmore has sprung his trap. Ha! Look at that!" And he turned andshouted out an order to the soldiers around.
A dozen savages, naked to the waist, were fording the Ohio between usand the settlement. Already the soldiers were running through thewoods along the river to head them off, and Cresap started after them,calling back for those who remained to guard the trail in the rear.Then a rifle went bang! among the trees; another report rang out,followed instantly by twenty more in a volley.
Down a low oak ridge, close by, I saw an Indian tumbling like a stonetill he fell with a splash into a mossy hollow full of rain-water anddead leaves. After him bounded a hunter in buckskins, long knifeflashing.
"Cresap!" I panted, "don't let him take that scalp! Have your men gonemad? You can stop this war! It is not too late yet, but a scalp takenmeans war--God in heaven! a scalp means war to the death!"
"Don't touch that scalp!" roared Cresap, hurrying towards the ranger,who was kneeling on one knee beside the dead Cayuga. "Nathan Giles! Doyou hear me? Let that scalp alone, you bloody fool!"
It was too late; the ranger squatted, wrenching the scalp free with aripping sound, just as Cresap ran up in a towering rage.
"They take ours," remonstrated the ranger, tying the ghastly trophy tohis belt by its braided lock of hair; "I guess I have a right to scalpmy own game!" he added, sullenly.
Cresap turned to me with a gesture of despair.
"You see," he said; and walked slowly away towards the river, wherethe rifles were ringing out shot on shot across the shoals below theshallow camp-ford on the edge of the roaring riffles.
So now, at last, Lord Dunmore's war had begun without hope ofmediation. Too late now for embassy of peace, too late for truce orpromises or the arbitration of fair speech. There is nothing on earthto compensate for a scalp taken, save a scalp taken in return. I hadfailed--failed totally, and without hope of retrieving failure. Thefirst attempt must be the last. A scalp had been taken. My mission wasat an end.
Ay, ended irrevocably now, for all around me firelocks and rifles werebanging; the woods swam in smoke; the war-yelp sounded nearer andnearer; the white cross-belts of the soldiers glimmered through thetrees.
Too miserable to shun danger, I sat down on a stone in the trail, myhead in my hands, rifle across my knees. Presently a soldier who hadbeen standing near me, firing across the river, fell down with a gruntand lay there flat on his back.
I stared at him stupidly, not realizing that the man was dead, thoughout of his head crawled a sluggish, dark red stream, dropping steadilyonto the withered leaves. It was only when a swift, dusky shape camecreeping out of the brush towards the dead man that I came to mysenses and dropped behind the stone I had been resting on, barely intime, too, for a bullet came smack! against my rock, and after it,bounding and yelping, flew an Indian. He was on me ere I could fire,one sinewy fist twisted in my hair, but his knife snapped off short onmy rifle-stock, and together, over and over we rolled, down a ravineamong the willows, clawing, clutching, strangling each other, till ofa sudden my head struck a tree, crack! And I knew nothing after thatuntil the cool rain beating in my face awoke me. I lay very still,listening.
Somebody near by was trying to light a fire; I smelled the flint andthe glowing tinder. Another odour hung heavily in the moist night air,the wild, rank scent of savage men, strong and unmistakable as theodour of a dog-fox in March.
I began to move noiselessly, working my head around so that I mightsee. My head was aching heavily; I could scarce stir it. At length Iraised myself on my hands, and saw the spark from a flint fly into aball of dry moss and hang there like a fire-fly until the tiny circleof light spread slowly into a glow, ringed with little flames that atetheir way through the tinder-moss.
A tufted head bobbed down beside the flame; unseen lips blew the fireinto a sudden blaze which brightened and flashed up, throwing ruddyshadows over bush and earth.
Then I saw that I lay on a hill-top in the rain, with dark, shaggybushes hedging me. And under every bush crouched an Indian, whosedusky, half-naked body glistened with paint, over which rain-dropsstood in brilliant beads.
Leggings, clouts, sporrans, and moccasins were soaked; the slippery,wet buckskins glistened like the hides of serpents; fringes, beadedbelts, and sheaths shone as tinted frost sparkles at sunrise.
In the luminous shadow of the bushes I saw brilliant eyes watching meas I dragged myself nearer the fire. The red embers' glow fell onsteel blades of hatchets, bathing them with blood-colour to the hilts.
Once, when I attempted to sit up, an arm shot out of the shadow,making the sign for silence; and mechanically I repeated the signaland laid my head down again on the cool, wet ground.
All night I lay, perfectly conscious, beside the Cayuga fire, yet notalarmed, although a prisoner.
The Cayugas knew me as a belt-bearer from Sir William; they could notill-treat me. Tamarack, Yellow Hand, and Sowanowane would vouch for meto this party of young men who had taken me. I had harmed none ofthem; I had barely defended my life when attacked.
As I lay there on the windy hill-top, through the rain across the dimvalley I could see the battle-lanthorns hanging on Cresap's fort, andI could hear the preparations for a siege, the hammering and choppingand cries of teamsters, the rumble of wagons over the drawbridge, thedistant challenge of guards, the murmur and dulled tumult of manypeople hastening urgent business.
Beside me, on their haunches, crouched my captors, alert and curious,dressing their ears to the distant noises. There were eleven of them,young men with all their lives before them in which to win the eagle'splume; eleven lithe, muscular young savages, stripped to the belt,well oiled, crowns shaved save for the lock, and every man freshlypainted for war. All wore the Wolf.
He who had taken me, now carried my pouch and powder-horn and bore myrifle. A scalp hung at his yellow girdle, doubtless the scalp of thesoldier who had been shot beside me in the trail. I could smell thepomatum on the queue.
I spoke to them calmly, and at first they seemed inclined to listen,appearing surprised at my knowledge of their tongue. But they wouldreply to none of my questions, and finally they silenced me withsullen threats, which, however, did not disturb me, as I knew theirsachems must set me free.
My head ached a great deal from the blow I had suffered; I waswilling enough to lie quietly and watch the lights in the fort throughthe slow veil of falling rain; and presently I fell asleep.
* * * * *
The hot glare of a torch awoke me. All around me crowded masses ofsavages, young and old, women and youths and children. The woodsvomited barbarians; they came in packs, moving swiftly, muttering toeach other, and hastening as though on some pressing affair.
Women near me were digging a hole, and presently came a strong younggirl, bearing a post of buckeye, and set it heavily in the hole,fitting it while the others stamped in the mud around it with nakedfeet.
The main crowd, however, had surged down into a hollow to the left,and, as I lay on the ground, watching the shadowy, retreating throng,of a sudden came three Indians driving before them a white man, armstied, bloodless face stamped with horror indescriba
ble.
As he passed the fire where I lay, I thought his starting eyes metmine, but he staggered on without speaking, down into the darkness ofthe hollow. I knew him. He was Nathan Giles, who had taken the firstscalp in Lord Dunmore's war.
Shuddering, I sat up, turning my head towards the gloom below. Therewas not a sound. I waited, straining eyes and ears. My heart drummedon my ribs. I caught my breath and clinched my hands.
Without the slightest warning, the black pit below burst out in asheet of light, shining on a thousand motionless savages; and in thecentre of the glare I saw a naked figure, bound to a tree, twistingthrough smoke-shot flames.
For a second only the scene wavered before me; then I gripped mytemples and pressed my face down into the cool, wet grass. Awful criesrang in my ears; the garrison at the fort heard them, too, for theyfired a cannon, and I heard distant drums beating to arms.
"Thus you are to die," repeated the Indians beside me. "Thus you willdie here on this hill at dawn. Thus you will suffer in plain view ofthe fort! This for the death of Logan's children!"
And one to another they said: "He is weeping. He is a woman. He willweep thus when he burns."
I heard them, but what they said left my mind numbed and cold. For methere was no meaning in their words; none at all. My ears shrank fromthe awful cries, now piercing the very clouds above me, hell's ownsolo accompanied by the ceaseless, solemn murmur of the rain.
Into my nostrils crept the stench of burnt flesh; it grew stronger andstronger. Silence fell, soothed by the whispering rain; then out ofthe night came the dull noise of many people stirring. They werecoming!
As I rose, a Cayuga youth seized me and threw me heavily against thepost I had seen the woman embed in the mud. I fought and strained andwrithed, but they tied me, bracing me up stiff against the wet stake,trussed like a fowl for basting.
Around me the crowd was thickening; hundreds of tongues loaded me withinsults; thrice a young girl reached out and struck me in the face.
They had begun piling wood around my feet, and stuffing the spacesfull of dry moss, but before the heap reached my knees they decided toface me towards the fort, so the work accomplished had to be undone,my bonds loosened and retied, and my body shifted to breast the south.
Through the falling rain I saw morning lurking behind the easternhills, and I cursed it, for the shock and terror had driven me out ofmy senses. I remember hearing a voice calling on God, but for a longtime I did not know the voice was mine. It was only when the sameyoung girl who had struck me lighted a splinter of yellow pine andthrust it through my arm that my senses returned. I opened my eyes asfrom a swoon, seeing clearly the faces around me, red under thetorches. And foremost among those in front stood Tamarack in hisscarlet robes, just as I had seen him at dawn through the smoke of thesacred fire. Now my voice came back, seeking my lips; my parchedtongue moved, and I called on Tamarack to hear me, but he shook hishead, though I adjured him by the belts I had borne and received, bythe sanctuary of the council-fire whose smoke I had sweetened, and bythe three tribes I had raised up.
"Lies," he said; "you come not from Johnstown! Your belts are lies;your words lie; your tongue is forked! You come from Cresap! Cresapshall see how you can die for him!"
"I speak the truth!" I cried out, in my agony. "I am a belt-bearer! Ihave laid the ghosts of your slain ones! Who dares send my spirit toteach your dead that you betray their ashes?"
There was a dead silence. Presently somebody in the throng said,distinctly: "If he speaks the truth, let him go. We honour our dead."And other voices repeated:
"We honour our dead."
"He lies," said Tamarack.
"I speak truth!" I groaned. "If you honour your dead, if you honourthose whom I have raised up in their places, free me, brothers of theCayugas!"
"Free him!" cried many.
For a space the throng was quiet, then a distant movement to my leftmade me turn hopefully. The throng wavered, parted, opened, and awhite man came elbowing his way to the stake.
He whispered to Tamarack; the aged sachem stretched out his arm,making a mystic sign.
Eagerly the white man turned and looked at me, and I cried out withrage and horror, for I was face to face with Walter Butler.
He spoke, but I scarcely heard him urging my death.
Terror, which had gripped me, gave place to fury, and that in turnleft me faint but calm.
I heard the merciless words in which he delivered me to the savages; Iheard him denounce me as a spy of Cresap and an agent of rebels. ThenI lost his voice.
I was very still for a while, trying to understand that I must die.The effort tired me; lassitude weighed on me like iron chains. To mystunned mind death was but a word, repeated vaguely in the darkchamber of life where my soul sat, listening. Thought was suspended;sight and hearing failed; there was a void about me, blank andformless as my mind.
"'THEY'VE HIT HIM,' SAID MOUNT, RELOADING HASTILY"]
Presently I became conscious that things were changingaround me. Lights moved, voices struggled into my ears;forms took shape, pressing closer to me. An undertone, which I hadheard at moments through my stupor, grew, swelling into a steadywhisper. It was the ceaseless rustle of the rain.
A torch blazed up crackling close in front. My eyes opened; a thrillof purest fear set every sense a-quiver. Amid the dull roar of voices,I heard women laughing and little children prattling. Faces becamepainfully distinct. I saw Sowanowane, the war-chief, thumb hishatchet; I saw Butler, beside him, catch an old woman by the arm. Hetold her to bring dry moss. It rained, rained, rained.
They were calling to me from the crowd now; everywhere voices werecalling to me: "Show us how Cresap's men die!" Others repeated: "He isa woman; he will scream out! Logan's children died more bravely.Oonah! The children of Logan!"
Butler watched me coolly, leaning on his rifle.
"So this ends it," he said, with his deathly grimace. "Well, it was tobe done in one way or another. I had meant to do it myself, but thiswill do."
I was too sick with fear, too close to death, to curse him. Pain oftenmakes me weak; the fear of pain sickens me. It was that I dreaded, notdeath. Where my father had gone, I dared follow, but the flames--thethought of the fire--
I said, faintly, "Turn your back to me when I die; I have much pain toface, Mr. Butler; I may not bear it well."
"No, by God! I will not!" he burst out, ferociously. "I'm here to seeyou suffer, damn you!"
I turned my head from him, but he struck me in the face so that mymouth was bathed in blood; twice he struck me, crying: "Listen!Listen, I tell you!" And, planting himself before the stake, he cursedme, vowing that he could tear me with his bared teeth for hatred.
"Know this before they roast you," he snarled; "I shall possess yourpretty baggage, Mistress Warren, spite of Sir William! I shall use herto my pleasure; I shall whip her to my feet. I may wed her, or I maychoose to use her otherwise and leave her for Dunmore. Ah! Ah! Now yourage, eh?"
I had hurled my trussed body forward on the cords, struggling,convulsed with a fury so frantic that the blood sprayed me where thebonds cut.
Indians struck me and thrust me back with clubs, for the great post atmy back had been partly dragged out of its socket by my frenzy, but Idid not feel the blows; I fixed my maddened eyes on Butler andstruggled.
But now the sachems were calling him sharply, and he backed away fromme as the circle surged forward. Again the girl came out, bearing aflaming fagot. She looked up at me, laughed, and thrust the burningsticks into the moss and tinder which was stacked around me. A billowof black smoke rolled into my face, choking and blinding me, and thebreath of the flames passed over me.
Twice the rain quenched the fire. They brought fresh heaps of moss,laughing and jeering. Through the smoke I saw the fort across thevalley, its parapets crowded with people. Jets of flame and distantreports showed they were firing rifles, hoping perhaps to kill me erethe torture began. It was too far. The last glimpse of the fort fadedthrough the
downpour; a new pile of moss and birch-bark was heaped atmy feet.
This time the girl was thrust aside and a young Indian advanced,waving a crackling branch of pitch-pine, roaring with flames. As heknelt to push it between my feet, a terrific shout burst from thethrong--a yell of terror and amazement. Through the tumult I heardwomen screaming; in front of me the crowd shrank away, huddling ingroups. Some backed into me, stumbling among the fagots; the youngIndian let his blazing pine-branch fall hissing on the wet ground andstood trembling.
And now into the circle stalked a tall figure, coming straight towardsme through the sheeted rain--a spectre so hideous that the cries ofterror drowned his voice, for he was speaking as he came on, movingwhat had once been a mouth, this dreadful thing, all raw and festeringto the bone.
Two blazing eyes met mine, then rolled around on the cringing throng;and a voice like the voice of the dead broke out:
"I am come to the judgment of this man whom you burn!"
"Quider!" moaned the throng. "He returns from the grave! Oonah! Hereturns!"
But the unearthly voice went on through the whimper of the crowd:
"From the dead I return. I return from the north. Madness drove me. Icome without belts, though belts were given.
"Peace, you wise men and sachems! Set free this man, my brother!"
"Quider!" I gasped. "Bear witness."
And the dead voice echoed, hollow:
"Brother, I witness."
Trembling fingers picked and plucked and tugged at my cords; the bondsloosened; the sky spun round; down I fell, face splashing in the mud.