CHAPTER IV
I now for the first time obtained a distinct view of the stranger ashe stepped forward, throwing the blanket from him, and stood revealed,stark naked save for clout and pouch, truly a superb figure, andperfect, in the Greek sense, barring that racial leanness below kneeand calf, and the sinewy feet planted parallel instead of diverging,as in our race.
But so splendid was his presence that Sir William, standing to receivehim, unconsciously raised his chin and squared his shoulders as thoughbracing for a trial of strength with this tall red forester from theWest.
For a space they stood face to face in silence; then the belt-bearer,looking warily around at the empty room, asked why Chief Warraghreceived his brother alone.
"My brother comes alone," replied Sir William, with emphasis. "It isthe custom of the Cayuga to send three with each belt. Does my brotherbear but a fragment of one belt? Or does he think us of littleconsequence that he comes without attestants?"
"I bear three belts," said the Indian, haughtily. "Nine of my peoplestarted from the Ohio; I alone live."
Sir William bowed gravely; and, motioning me to be seated, drew up anarm-chair of velvet and sat down, folding his arms in silence.
Then, for the first time in my life, I sat at a figurative councilfire and listened to an orator of those masters of oratory, thepeoples of the Six Nations.
Dignified, chary of gesture, clean, yet somewhat sad and over-grave ofspeech, the Cayuga, facing the Baronet, related briefly his name,Quider, which in Iroquois means Peter; his tribe, which was the tribeof the Wolf, the totem being plain on his breast. He spoke of hisjourney from the Ohio, the loss of the eight who had started withhim; all dying from the small-pox within a week. He spoke respectfullyof Sir William as the one man who had protected the Six Nations fromunjust laws, from incursions, from white men's violence and deception.He admitted that Sir William was the only man in America who to-dayretained the absolute trust and confidence of the Indians, adding thatit was for this reason that he had come.
And then he began his brief speech, drawing from his pouch a blackbelt of wampum:
"_Brother_: With this belt we breathe upon the embers which areasleep, and we cause the council fire to burn in this place and on theOhio, which are our proper fireplaces. With this belt we sweep thisfireplace clean, removing from it all that is impure, that we may sitaround it as brothers."
(_A belt of seven rows._)
"_Brother_: The unhappy oppression of our brethren by Colonel Cresap'smen, near the Ohio carrying-place, is the occasion for our cominghere. Our nation would not be at rest, nor easy, until they had spokento you about it. They have now spoken--with this belt!"
(_A black and white belt._)
"_Brother_: What are we to do? Lord Dunmore will not hear us. ColonelCresap and his men, to whom we have done no harm, are coming to clearthe forest and cross our free path which lies from Saint Sacrement tothe Ohio, and which path our brother's belts, which we still possess,have long since swept clear. What shall we do? Instead of polishingour knives we have come to our brother Warragh. Instead of seeking ourkin the Mohawk and the Oneida with painted war belts to throw betweenus and them, we come to our brother and ask him, by this belt, what isleft for us to do? Our brothers have taught us there is a God. Teachus He is a just God--by this belt!"
(_A black belt of five rows._)
During this speech Sir William sat as still as death, neither byglance nor gesture nor change of colour betraying the surprise,indignation, and alarm which this exposure of Colonel Cresap's doingscaused him.
As for me, I, of course, vaguely understood the breach of faithcommitted by Colonel Cresap in invading the land of our allies, andthe danger we might run should this Cayuga chief go to our Mohawks andOneidas with war-belts and inflammatory appeals for vengeance onCresap and his men.
That he had instead come to us, braving all dangers, losing indeed allhis comrades, on this mission of peace, most splendidly attested tothe power and influence of Sir William among these savages whose firstinstinct is to draw the hatchet and begin the horrid vengeance whichthey consider their right when unjustly molested.
It is seldom the custom to reply to a speech before the following day.Custom and tradition rule among the Six Nations. Deliberation andprofound reflection they give to all spokesmen who petition them, andthey require it in turn, regarding with suspicion and contempt a hastyreply, which, they consider, indicates either premeditated treachery,or a shallow mind incapable of weighty and mature reflection.
I was prepared, therefore, when Sir William, holding in his right handthe three belts of wampum, rose and thanked the Cayuga for his talk,praising him and his tribe for resorting to arbitration instead of thehatchet, and promising an answer on the morrow.
The Cayuga listened in silence, then resuming his blanket turned onhis heel and passed slowly and noiselessly from the room, leaving SirWilliam standing beside the arm-chair, and me erect in the embrasureof the casement.
Now, for the first time in my life, I saw a trace of physical declinein my guardian. His hand, holding the belts, had fallen a-trembling;he made a feeble gesture for me to be seated, and sank back into hisarm-chair, listless eyes on the floor, absently running his fingersover the polished belts.
"At sixty," he said, as though to himself, "strong men should be inthat mellow prime to which a sober life conducts."
After a moment he went on: "My life has been sober and withoutexcess--but hard! very hard! I am an old man; a tired old man."
Looking up to meet my eyes, he smiled, watching the sympathy whichtwitched my face.
"All these wars! All these wars! Thirty years of war!" he murmured,caressing the belts and letting them slip through his fingers likesmooth shining serpents. "War with the French, war with the Maquas,the Hurons, the Shawanese, the Ojibways! War in the Canadas, war inthe Carolinas, war east and west and north and south! And--I amtired."
He flung the slippery belts to the floor, where they twisted andcoiled up in a heap.
"I have worked with my hands," he said. "This land has drunk the sweatof my body. I have not spared myself in sickness or in health. My eyesare dim; I have used them by day, by starlight, by the glimmer ofmoons long dead, by candle-wood, by torch, by the flicker of smokefrom green fires.
"My arms are tired; I have hewn forests away; my limbs ache; I havejourneyed far through snow, through heat, from the Canadas to theGulf--all my life I have journeyed on business for other men--for menI have never seen, and shall never see--men yet to be born!"
There came a flush of earnest colour into his face. He leaned forwardtowards me, elbow resting on the table, hand outstretched.
"Why, look you, Michael," he said, with childlike eagerness; "I founda wilderness and I leave a garden! Look at the valley! Can Englandgrow such grain? Look at Tryon County! Look at this Province of NewYork? Ay--look farther--wherever my Indians have set their boundaries!There are roads, lad, roads where I found runways; turnpikes where Ifollowed Mohawk trails; mills turning where the wild-cat squatted,fishing with big flat paws! Lad, you cannot recall it, yet thisvillage was but a carrying-place when I came. Look at it; look fromthe window, lad! Is it not fair and pretty to the eye? One hundred andeighty families! Three churches, counting my new stone church; a freeschool, a court-house, a jail, barracks--all built by me; stores withred and blue swinging signs, bravely painted, inns with the good greenbush a-swing! Listen to the cock-crows; listen to the barking! Mightit not be a Devonshire town? Ah--I forgot; you have never seen oldEngland."
Smiling still, kind eyes dreaming, his head sank a little, and heclasped his hands in his lap.
"Lad," he said, softly, "the English hay smells sweet, but not sosweet as the Mohawk Valley hay to me. This is my country--my countryfirst, last, and all the time. I am too old to change where in myyouth I took root among these hills. To transplant me means my end."
The sunlight stole into the room through leaded diamond-panes and fellacross his knees like a
golden robe. The music from the robins in theorchard filled my ears; soft winds stirred the lace on Sir William'scuffs and collarette.
Presently he roused, shaking the dream from his eyes; and, watchinghim, it seemed to me I could see the very tide of life swelling fleshand muscle into new vigour. The colour came back into his face andhands; the light grew in his eyes.
"Come!" he said, in a voice that had lost its tremour. "Life has butone meaning--to go on, ever on, lad! 'Tis a long doze awaits us at thejourney's end." And he fumbled for his snuff-box and lace hanker,blowing a vigorous blast and exclaiming, "Aha! Ho!" in deep toneswhich, when very young, awed me.
I bent and picked up the three belts, placing them on the table nearhim.
"Thank you, Michael," he said, heartily; "and I must say that in thismatter of the Cayuga, you have conducted admirably. Mr. Duncan hastold me all; it was wisely done. Had you received the Cayuga with lesswelcome or more suspicion, or had you met him haughtily, I do notdoubt that he would have made mischief for me among my Mohawks."
"He had war-sticks painted red, in his pouch, sir," I replied.
"No doubt! No doubt! And a red war-belt, too, belike! They were meantfor my Mohawks had he met with a rebuff here. Oh, I know them,Michael, I know them. A painted war-belt flung between that Cayuga andthe sachems of my Mohawks would have set the whole Six Nations--save,perhaps, the Oneidas--a-shining up rifle and hatchet for Cresap andhis men!"
Sir William struck the mahogany table with clinched fist.
"Damn Cresap!" he bawled, in one of his familiar fits of fury--fitswhich were never witnessed outside his family circle. "Damn thefatuous fool to go a-meddling with the Cayugas in their own lands,held by them in solemn covenant forever inviolate! What does the sorryass want? A border war, with all this trouble betwixt King andcolonies hatching? Does Colonel Cresap not know that a single scalptaken from the Cayugas will set the Six Nations on fire--ay, theLenape, too?"
Sir William slapped the table again with the flat of his hand.
"Look, Michael; should war come betwixt King and colonies, neitherKing nor colonies should forget that our frontiers are crowded withthousands of savages who, if adroitly treated, will remain neutral andinoffensive. Yet here is this madman Cresap, on the very eve of astruggle with the greatest power in the world, turning the savagesagainst the colonies by his crazy pranks on the Ohio!"
"But," said I, "in his blindness and folly, Colonel Cresap is throwinginto our arms these very savages as allies!"
Sir William stopped short and stared at me with cold, steady eyes.
"Michael," said he, presently, "when this war comes--as surely it willcome--choose which cause you will embrace, and then stand by it to theend. As for me, I cannot believe that God would let me live to seesuch a war; that He would leave me to choose between the King who hashonoured me and mine own people in this dear land of mine!"
He raised his head and passed one hand over his eyes.
"But should He in His wisdom demand that I choose--and if the sorrowkills me not--then, when the time comes, I shall choose."
"Which way, sir?" I said, in a sort of gasp.
But he only answered, "Wait!"
Stupefied, I watched him. It had never entered my head that therecould be any course save unquestioned loyalty to the King in allthings; that there could be any doubt or hesitation or pondering orpraying for light when it came time to choose between King and rebel.
I now recalled what Sir William had said to me in the school-room.Putting this with what he now said, or left unsaid, together with hisanger at Colonel Cresap for endangering the peace betwixt the Indiansand the colonies, I came to the frightened conclusion that SirWilliam's loyalty might be questioned. But by whom? Who in America wasgreat enough to call Sir William to account? Not Governor Tryon; notLord Dunmore; not General Gage.
Feeling as though the bottom had fallen out of something, I sat there,my fascinated eyes never leaving Sir William's sombre face.
What then were these tea-hating rebels that Sir William should defendthem at breakfast and in the faces of half a dozen of his Majesty'sofficers? I knew nothing of the troubles in Massachusetts save fromsoldiers' talk or the gossip of the townsmen, most of them beingtenants of Sir William. I had heard vaguely about one turbulent fellownamed Hancock, and a mischief-making jack-at-all-trades calledFranklin. I knew that the trouble concerned taxes, but as all thisbother appeared to be about a few pennies, and as I myself neverwanted for money, I had little sympathy for people who made such anado about a shilling or two. Moreover, if the King needed money, theidea of not placing one's all at his Majesty's disposal seemedcontemptible to me. It is true that I had never earned a farthing inall my life, and so had nothing to offer my sovereign, save whatfortune my father had left in trust for me. It is also true that Iknew nothing of the value of money, having neither earned it norwanted for it.
Something of these thoughts may have been easily read in my face, forSir William said, with some abruptness:
"It is not money; it is principle that men fight for."
I was startled, although Sir William sometimes had a way of roundingout my groping thoughts with sudden spoken words which made me fearhim.
"Well, well," he said, laughing and rising to stretch his crampedlimbs; "this is enough for one day, Michael. Let the morrow fret foritself, lad. Come, smile a bit! Shall we have a holiday, perhaps thelast for many a month? Nay, do not look so sober, Micky. Who knowswhat will come? Who knows; who knows?"
"I shall stand by you, sir, whatever comes," said I.
But Sir William only smiled, drawing me to him, one arm about me.
"Suppose," said he, "that you and I and Mr. Duncan and Felicity andPeter and Esk take rods and bait and go a-fishing in the Kennyetto byFonda's Bush!"
"A peg-down fishing match!" cried I, enchanted.
"Ay, a peg-down match, and the prize whatever the victor wills--inreason. What say you, Michael?"
I was about to assent with enthusiasm when something occurred to meand I stopped.
"May I wear my uniform, sir?" I asked.
"Gad!" cried Sir William, in a fit of laughter. "'Tis a bolder manthan I who dare separate you from your uniform!"
"Then I'll carry my pistols and go a-horse!" said I, delighted.
The Baronet, hands clasped behind him, nodded absently. That old graycolour came into his face again, and he lifted a belt from the tableand studied it dreamily, picking at the wampum which glowed like asnake's skin in the sunshine.