CHAPTER VI
It was not yet dawn, though a few birds sang in the darkness aroundus, as Sir William and I set off for the Cayuga's lodge, which stoodbeyond the town on a rocky knoll, partly cleared of trees.
The air was cold and without fragrance, for in our country it is thesun that draws the earth's sweetness in early spring.
The stars lighted us through the streets of Johnstown, empty of lifesave for the muffled watchman dozing in his own lanthorn glow, whoroused as he heard us, and shook his damp cloak. And far behind us weheard his sing-song:
"Four o'clock! A cold, fair morn, and all well!"
One inn there was, where the dim bush swung wet and sleek as aclinging bat, and where stale embers of the night's revelry stillflickered; for, behind the lighted windows, men were singing, and weheard them as we passed:
"Oh, we're all dry Wi' drinking on't-- We're all dry Wi' drinking on't. The piper kissed The fiddler's wife; And I can't sleep For thinking on't!"
"Starbuck's Inn," muttered Sir William, grimly. "He's a Boston man;they drink no tea there."
And, as we strode on in the darkness, behind us, from the lightedhostelry, came a husky echo of that foolish catch:
"Diddle diddle dumpling, My son John--"
So I knew that my buckskin birds were still chirping among us.
But now we were on the stony way and the town sank below us as weclimbed towards Quider's lodge, knee-deep in dewy thistles.
The spark of a tiny council fire guided us. Coming nearer we smelledblack birch burning, and we saw the long thread of aromatic smokemounting steadily to the paling stars.
We passed a young basswood-tree from which hung a flint, symbol of theMohawks. From another chestnut-sapling dangled the symbol of theCayugas, a pipe. All at once we saw Quider, standing motionless beforehis lodge.
Sir William drew flint and tinder from his pouch, and sent a sparkflying into the dry tobacco of his pipe. He drew it to a long glow,twice, and passed it, through the smoke of the fire, to Quider.
I saw the Cayuga's face then. It was a strange red, yet it was notpainted. He seemed ill; his eyes glittered like the eyes of a lynx.
And now, as the Indian sank down into his blanket before the fire, SirWilliam produced a belt from the folds of his cloak and held it out.The belt was black with two figures woven in white on it. The hands ofthe figures were clasped together. It was a chain-belt.
"_Brother_," he said, slowly: "The clouds which hang over us preventus from seeing the sun. It is, therefore, our business, with thisbelt, to clear the sky. And we also, with this belt, set the sun inits proper course, so that we may be enabled to see the narrow path ofpeace."
(_Gives the belt._)
"_Brother_: We have heard what you have said about Colonel Cresap; webelieve he has been misled, and we have rekindled the council fire atJohnstown with embers from Onondaga, with embers from the Ohio, withcoals from our proper fireplace at Mount Johnson.
"We uncover these fires to summon our wisest men so that they shalljudge what word shall be sent to Colonel Cresap, to secure you in yourtreaty rights which I have sworn to protect by these strings!"
(_A bunch of strings._)
"_Brother_: By this third and last belt I send peace and love to mybrethren of the Cayuga; and by this belt I bid them be patient, andremember that I have never broken my word to those within the LongHouse, nor yet to those who dwell without the doors."
(_A large black belt of seven rows._)
Then Sir William drew from his girdle a belt of wampum, so white that,in the starlight, it shimmered like virgin silver.
"Who mourns?" asked Sir William, gently, and the Indian rose andanswered: "We mourn--we of the Cayuga--we of three clans."
"What clans shall be raised up?" asked Sir William.
"Three clans lie stricken: the Wolf, the Plover, the Eel. Who shallraise them?"
"_Brother_," said Sir William, gravely. "With this belt I raise threeclans; I cleanse their eyes, their ears, their mouths, their bodieswith clean water. With this belt I clear their path so that no longershall the dead stand in your way or in ours."
(_The belt._)
"_Brother_: With these strings I raise up your head and beg you willno longer sorrow."
(_Three strings._)
"_Brother_: With this belt I cover the graves."
(_A great white belt._)
In the dead stillness that followed the northern hill-tops slowlyturned to pink and ashes. The day had dawned.
* * * * *
When again we reached the village cocks were crowing in every yard;the painted weather-vanes glowed in the sun; legions of birds sang.
From Starbuck's Inn stumbled forth a blinking, soiled, and tipsycompany, linking arms, sidling, shoving, lurching, and bawling:
"Oh, we're all dry Wi' drinkin' on't!"
And I plainly saw my two coureurs-de-bois, boozy as owls, a-bussingthe landlord's greasy wench while mine host pummelled them lustily,foot and fist.
So on through the cold shadowy street and out into the sun-warmed roadagain, and at last to the Hall where, on the sunny porch, stood SilverHeels, hair in her eyes, her naked white feet in moccasins, washingher cheeks in the dew.
"Tut! tut!" cried Sir William, sharply. "What foolishness is this,Felicity? Off to bed! with your bare legs!"
"Betty said that beauty grew with dew-baths at dawn," said SilverHeels, coolly. "I have bathed my limbs and my body in the grass andI'm all over leaves."
"Betty's a fool! Be off to bed!--you little baggage!" cried SirWilliam. And away up-stairs scampered Silver Heels, dropping bothmoccasins in her flight.
"Betty! Betty!" fumed Sir William. "I'll Betty her, the black witch!"And he stamped off to the nursery, muttering threats which I knewwould never be fulfilled.
That day Sir William sat in his library writing with Mr. Butler, sothere was no school, and Peter, Esk, Silver Heels, and I wenta-fishing in the river. And I did not wear my uniform, for fear ofsoiling.
All day long, as we sat in the grass to watch our poles a-quiver,horsemen from our stables passed us, galloping east and south,doubtless bearing letters from Sir William to Albany and New York--andfarther south, perchance--for there came one rider with six soldiersin escort, and two led horses well packed, all trotting and clatteringaway towards the Fort Pitt trail.
That day was the last of the old days for us; but how could we suspectthat, as we waded in the shallows there, laughing, chattering,splashing each other, and quarrelling to our hearts' content. Thefamiliar river, which every freshet changed just enough to sharpen oureyes for new pools, slipped over its smooth golden stones, invitingour dusty feet. Up to our knees we moved in the ice-cold stream,climbing out on the banks at times to warm our legs in the sun, andlie deep in the daisies, winking at the swallows in the sky.
We played all our old games again--but that we played them for thelast time, none of us suspected. I held a buttercup under SilverHeels's snowy chin to prove her love for cheese; I played buzzingbee-songs on grass-blades; I whittled whistles for Peter and Esk; Iskipped flat stones; I coloured Silver Heels's toes yellow withdandelion juice so she should ever afterwards wade in gold--this ather own desire.
Twice those tiny spotted lady-beetles perched on my hand, and SilverHeels, to ward off threatening evil, took them on the pink tip of herlittle finger, repeating:
"Lady-bird, Lady-bird, fly away home! Thy lodge is afire! thy babies will burn!"
Which she said would save me from torture at the stake some day.
The late sun settled in the blue ashes of the western forests as wepulled on our stockings and moccasins and gathered up our strings ofsilvery fish.
For a whole day I had carefully forgotten that I was anything but acomrade to these children; but I did not know how wise I had been tolay by, in my memory, one more perfect day ere the evil days came andthe years drew nigh wherein, G
od wot! I found no pleasure.
Silver Heels and I walked back together through the evening glow, andI remember that the windows of our house were all on fire from the sunas we climbed the hill under the splendour of the western sky.
As we came through the orchard I saw Sir William sitting on the stoneseat near the bee-hives. His chin had fallen on his chest, both handsrested on his cane, and over his body fell the glory of the red sky.
He heard us as we came through the orchard, and he raised his head tosmile a welcome. But there was that in his eyes which told me to staythere with him after the others had trooped in to be fed, and Iwaited.
Presently he said: "Quider is sick. Did you discover anything in hisface that might betoken--a--a fever?"
"His eyes," I said.
"Was he blotched? My sight is dim these years."
"His face was over-red," I answered, wondering.
Sir William said nothing more. After a little while he rose, leaningon his cane, and passed heavily under the fruit-trees towards thehouse.
That night came our doctor, Pierson, galloping from the village withan urgent message for Sir William. Later I saw soldiers set out withbayonets on their muskets, and, with them, the doctor, leading hishorse.
In the morning we knew that the small-pox had seized the Cayuga, andthat our soldiers patrolled Quider's lodge to warn all men of theblack pest.
The days which followed were busy days for us all--days fraught withbustle and perplexity--hours which hurried on, crowding one on anotherlike pages turning in a book--turning too swiftly for me to cipher theominous text.
All Sir William's hopes of averting war were now centred in thestricken Cayuga. He and I haunted the neighbourhood of Quider's lodge,staring for hours at the silent hut in the clearing, or, rambling bystarlight, we watched the candle burning in the lodge door as thoughit were the flame of life, now flaring, now sinking in its socket.
On such rambles he seldom spoke, but sometimes he leaned on myshoulder as we walked, and his very hand seemed burdened with theweight of his cares.
Once, however, when from the sentinels we learned that Quider mightlive, Sir William appeared almost gay, and we walked to a little hill,all silvery in the light of the young moon, and rested on a rock.
"Black Care rides behind the horseman, but--I have dismounted," hesaid, lightly. "Quider will live, I warrant you, barring those arrowsof outrageous fortune of which you have doubtless heard, Michael."
"What may those same arrows be marked with?" I asked, innocently.
"With the totem of Kismet, my boy."
I did not know that totem, and said so, whereupon he fell a-laughingand pinched my cheek, saying, "Are there no people in the world butthe Six Nations of the Long House?"
I answered cautiously: "Oe-yen-de-hit Sar-a-ta-ke," meaning, "thereare favourable signs (of people) where the tracks of (their) heels maybe seen. I have not travelled; there may be other tracks in theworld."
"Ten-ca-re Ne-go-ni," replied Sir William, gravely. "He scatters Hispeople everywhere, Michael. The world lies outside of the LongHouse!"
"I shall say to the world I come from Ko-lan-e-ka, and that I am kinto you, sir," said I, dropping easily into that intimate dialect wechildren often used together, or in the family circle.
"The world will say: 'He comes from Da-o-sa-no-geh, the place withouta name; let him return to The-ya-o-guin, the Gray-Haired, who sent himout so ignorant.'"
"Do you say that, sir, because I am ignorant of the poets?" I asked.
"Even women know the poets in these days," he said, smiling. "Youwould not wish to know less than your own wife, would you?"
"My wife!" I exclaimed, scornfully.
"Why, yes," said Sir William, much amused; "you will marry one day, Isuppose."
After a moment I said:
"Is Silver Heels going to marry Mr. Butler?"
"I hope so," replied Sir William, a little surprised. "Mr. Butler is agentleman of culture and wealth. Felicity has no large dower, and Ican leave but little if I provide for all my children. I deem it mostfortunate that Captain Butler has spoken to me."
"If," said I, slowly, "Silver Heels and I are obliged to marrysomebody, why can we not marry each other?"
Sir William stared at me.
"Are you in love with Felicity?" he asked.
"Oh no, sir!" I cried, resentfully.
"Is she--does she fancy she is in love with you?" insisted SirWilliam, in growing astonishment.
"No! no!" I said, hastily, for his question annoyed and irritated me."But I only don't want her to marry Mr. Butler; I'd even be willing tomarry her myself, though I once saw a maid in Albany--"
"What the devil is all this damned nonsense?" cried Sir William,testily. "What d'ye mean by this idiot's babble? Eh?"
The expression of my face at this outburst first disconcerted, thensent him into a roar of laughter. Such startled and injured innocencesoftened his impatience; he carefully explained to me that, asFelicity had no fortune, and I barely sufficient to sustain me, sucha match could but prove a sorry and foolish one for Silver Heels andfor me.
"If you were older," he said, "and if you loved each other, I should,perhaps, be weak enough not to interfere, though wisdom prompted. Butit is best that Felicity should wed Mr. Butler, and that as soon asmay be, for I am growing old very fast, older than I care to confess,older than I dare believe. This I say to you, for I have come to trustyou and to lean on you, Michael; but you must never hint to othersthat I complain of age or feebleness. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," I answered, soberly.
"Besides," said Sir William, with a forced smile, "I have much to doyet; I mean to accomplish a deal of labour before I--well, before manyweeks. Come, lad; we must not grope out here seeking unhappiness underthese pretty stars. We are much to each other; we shall be muchmore--eh? Come, then; Quider will live, spite of those same slings andarrows of which you know not the totem marks."
As we descended the hill through shadowy drifts of spice-fern, SirWilliam looked long and hopefully at the candle burning in Quider'shut.
"Ho-no-we-eh-to," he murmured; "I have given him whitebelts--ho-way-ha-tah-koo!--they shall disinter him, though he liedead. He came, bearing wampum; shall his spirit go out bearing aquiver--o-tat-sheh-te?--hoo-sah-ha-ho?"
"So-yone-wes; sa-tea-na-wat; he has a long wampum belt; he holds itfast, sir," I said, cheerfully mixing the tongues of the Six Nationsto piece out my symbol.
So we went home, comforted and hopeful; but the morrow brought gravesttidings from Quider's lodge, for the Cayuga had fallen a-raving in hisfever, and it was necessary to tie him down lest he break away.
Weighed down with anxiety concerning what Colonel Cresap might bedoing on the Ohio, dreading an outbreak which must surely come if theCayuga belts remained unanswered, Sir William, in his sore perplexity,turned once more to me and opened his brave heart.
"I know not what intrigues may be afoot, what double intrigues revolvewithin, what triple motives urge the men who have despatched ColonelCresap on this adventure. But I know this, that should Cresap'scolonials in their blindness attack my Cayugas, a thousand hatchetswill sparkle in these hills, and the people of the Long House willnever sit idle when these colonies and England draw the sword!"
Again that cold, despairing amazement crept into my heart, for I couldno longer misunderstand Sir William that his sympathies were not withour King, but with the provinces.
He appeared to divine my troubled thoughts; I knew it by the painfulsmile which passed like a pale light from his eyes, fading in theshadowy hollows which care and grief had dug in his good, kind face.
"Learn from others, not from me, what acid chemistry is changing theheart of this broad land to stone," he said.
"I cannot understand, sir," I broke out, "why we should warn ColonelCresap. Is it loyalty for us to do so?"
Sir William turned his sunken eyes on me.
"It is loyalty to God," he said.
The solemn peace in h
is eyes awed me; the ravage which care had leftin his visage frightened me.
He spoke again:
"I may have to answer to Him soon, my boy. I have searched my heart;there is no dishonour in it."
We had been sitting on the bed in my little chamber. The window wasopen, the breeze fluttered the cotton curtains, a spicy breeze, ladenwith essence of the fern which covers our fields, and smells likebay-leaves crushed in one's palm.
The peace of Sabbath brooded over all, a cow-bell tinkled from thepasture, birds chirped. Sir William rose to stand by the window, andhis gaze softened towards the sunlit meadows where buttercups swayedwith daisies, and blue flower-de-luce quivered in the wind.
"God!" he muttered, under his breath. "That this sweet peace on earthshould be assailed by men!"
Again into my breast came that strange uneasiness which this month ofMay had brought to us along with the robins and the new leaves, andwhich I began to breathe in with the summer wind itself--a vagueunrest, a breathless waiting--for what?--I did not know.
And so it went on, Sir William and I walking sometimes alone togetheron the hill-sides, speaking soberly of that future which concernedour land and kin, I listening in silence with apprehension evergrowing.
Often during that week came Mohawk sachems and chiefs of the Senecasand Onondagas to the Hall, pestering Sir William with petty disputesto judge between them. Sometimes it was complaint against drunkensoldiers who annoyed them, sometimes a demand for justice, touchingthe old matters of the moonlight survey, in which one, Collins, didshamefully wrong the Mohawks by stealing land; and William Alexander,who is now Lord Sterling, and William Livingston did profitthereby--guiltily or innocently, I know not.
But these troubles Sir William settled impartially and with thatsimple justice which made fraud loathsome, even to frauds.
I do remember how he scourged and scored that villain German, Klock,for making the Mohawks drunk to rob them of their lands by cunning;and I recall how he summoned Counsellor John Chambers to witnessjustice between Mr. Livingston and the Mohawks:
"Billy Livingston," said Sir William, "bear this message to BillyAlexander, that the land belongs not to him or to you, but to myMohawks! It is enough that I say this to you, for you are my oldcomrades and honoured friends, and I am assured you will relinquishall title to what is not your own. But, by God! Billy, if you do not,I shall spend every penny of my own on lawyers to drive you out--everyfarthing, though it beggars me!"
This was but one of many scenes at which I was present. Why SirWilliam always called me to bear him company in such private matters,I could not at once comprehend. Little by little, however, I saw thatit was because of his trust in me, and his desire that I should knowof such affairs; and his love and confidence made me proud. Was I notthe only person in the world who knew his sentiments and his desire tostop Colonel Cresap on the Ohio, lest, in ignorance, he should turnthe entire Six Nations against the colonies?
Had he not told me, sadly, that he could not speak of this plan evento his own son, Sir John Johnson, lest his son, placing loyalty to theKing before obedience to his father, should thwart Sir William, andeven aid Colonel Cresap to anger the Cayugas, and so injure the causeof the colonies?
He told me, too, that he could not confide in Mr. Butler or in hisfather, Colonel John Butler; neither dared he trust his sons-in-law,Colonel Claus or Colonel Guy Johnson, although they served as hisdeputies in Indian affairs.
All of these gentlemen were, first of all, loyal to our King, and allof them, clearly foreseeing a struggle between King and colonies,would not raise a finger to prevent Colonel Cresap from driving theSix Nations as allies into the King's arms.
"What I am striving for," said Sir William to me, again and again, "isto so conduct that these Indians on our frontiers shall take neitherone side nor the other, but remain passive while the storm rages. Towork openly for this is not possible. If it were possible to workopenly, and if Quider should die, I would send such a message to myLord Dunmore of Virginia as would make his bloodless ears burn! Andthey may burn yet!"
At my expression of horrified surprise Sir William hesitated, thenstruck his fist into the open palm of his left hand.
"Why should you not know it?" he cried. "You are the only one of all Ican trust!"
He paused, eying me intently.
"Can I not trust you, dear lad?" he said, gently.
"Yes, sir," I cried, in an overwhelming rush of pity and love. "Youare first in my heart, sir--and then the King."
Sir William smiled and thought awhile. Then he continued:
"You are to know, Michael, that Lord Dunmore, Governor of Virginia,is, in my opinion, at the bottom of this. He it is who, foreseeing thefuture, as do all thinking men, has sent the deluded Cresap to pick aquarrel with my Cayugas, knowing that he is making future allies forEngland. It is vile! It is a monstrous thing! It is not loyalty, it istreason!"
He struck his pinched forehead and strode up and down.
"Can Dunmore know what he is doing? God! The horror of it!--the horrorof border war! Has Dunmore ever seen how savages fight? Has he seenraw scalps ripped from babies? Has he seen naked prisoners writhingat the stake, drenched in blood, eyeless sockets raised to the skies?"
He stood still in the middle of the room. There was a sweat on hischeek-bones.
"If we must fight, let us fight like men," he muttered, "without fearor favour, without treachery! But, Michael, woe to the side that callson these savages for aid! Woe to them! Woe! Woe! For the first scalptaken will turn this border into such a hell of blood and flame as thedevil himself in his old hell never dreamed of!"
This outburst left me stunned. Save for Sir William, I knew not wherenow to anchor my faith. Our King already in these few days had becometo my youthful mind a distant wavering shadow, no longer the rock towhich loyal hearts must cling--unquestioning. And it is ever so; oldfaiths fall when hearts question, and I know not whether hearts beright or wrong to strive so hard for the answer which is their ownundoing.
Still, however, in that distant England which I had never seen, theKing, though fading to a phantom in my heart, yet loomed up still avast and mighty shape, awful as the threatening majesty of a dim cloudon the world's edge, behind which lightning glimmers.