CHAPTER XX
PONTIAC IN THE COUNCIL
KNOWING the folly of trying to enter into any sort of talk at such atime, Bob only pinched the arm of his more reckless brother. And Sandyunderstood what that signified; he was to say not another word.
Other sounds reached them. Bob caught the well-known click of flint andsteel, and knew that a fire was about to be started. Presently sparksflashed and then the tinder caught, so that a little flame darted up.
As this was carefully fed by a practised hand it grew in volume, untilthe darkness that had rested under the thick branches of the great oakbegan to be dissipated.
By degrees Bob could make out the figures of several Indians. He staredas if unable to believe his eyes, for every one of them seemed to havevied with the others in assuming a grotesque dress. Several wore horns,and all of them had their faces hidden behind masks, usually the headsof some animal.
The first represented a wolf, one of those gaunt timber pirates thatcould easily pull a stag to earth; another had on a buffalo head; whilea third seemed to represent a panther. Their garments were elaboratelyfashioned, and their persons decked with all manner of tinkling bitsof metal, and colored porcupine quills. Not a movement did they makeafter once throwing off their reserve but that Bob was reminded of anecromancer he had once seen a very long time ago, in a playhouse inRichmond, to which his father took him at Christmas time.
He knew what these strange personages were as soon as his eyes beheldtheir remarkable attire and actions. Up to now Bob had never really seteyes on a real medicine man, though Sandy claimed to have done so atthe time he was a prisoner in the Shawanee village.
But why half a dozen of them; and what sort of business had broughtthem here to this tree, that must be a land mark in the neighborhood?Did Blue Jacket know? He claimed to have been in this vicinity before;then perhaps he was acquainted with the very tree, in the branches ofwhich they perched at that minute.
Still watching, Bob saw that the queer men below were carrying on in astrange way as they fed the flames, and kept building up the fire. Theywent through all manner of gestures, flinging their arms wildly aloft,dancing as they circled the flames, throwing some sort of powder intothe fire that for the moment cast a blood red and terrible glow uponeverything around; and anon even taking hold of hands to engage in awild orgy around the blaze.
"DANCING AS THEY CIRCLED THE FLAMES"]
By slow degrees he began to realize that these seven medicine men mustbelong to just as many different tribes. It was as though they had beensent here ahead in order to start the sacred fire at which, later on,the heads of those same clans would gather in solemn conclave!
Did it mean that the idle wish of Sandy was to be thus quicklyfulfilled? Had Blue Jacket in some way heard what was said, or guessedit; and was he now bent on giving them a chance to hear the comingcouncil, when representatives of many nations would come to meet thoseof the Iroquois, and try to wean them away from their allegiance to theEnglish?
The thought thrilled the young pioneer. He did not know whether to beglad or fearful because it was so. It would, of course, be a wonderfulthing for them to see this council which must go down in history;to perhaps look upon the great Pontiac, as well as the head chiefsconnected with many powerful tribes, such as the Sacs, the Foxes, theSenecas, the Onondagas, the Mohawks and the war-like Delawares. Butwhat if, through some little misfortune, they were discovered?
While Bob was giving way to these thoughts he saw that the queer dancebelow had come to an end. The strangely garbed medicine men vanishedfrom view, and other Indians began to troop in to gather about the fire.
By dozens and scores they came from every quarter. Bob could hardlybelieve he was not dreaming, for the great space below began to befairly packed with Indians. Some stalked around in their skin blankets,while others were naked down to the waist.
These latter were the wild Ojibways, with quivers slung at their backs,and light war clubs resting in the hollow of their arms. There wereOttawas wrapped close in gaudy blankets, and Wyandots fluttering inpainted shirts, their heads adorned with colored feathers, and theirleggins garnished with shining metal discs that often chimed likesilver bells.
He knew that he was undoubtedly looking upon the most noted chiefswest of the mountains. Some of these must be men who had led in thewars of the last few years, where scores and hundreds of lives had beenlost.
Afterwards he learned from Blue Jacket that the Shawanee sachem SilverHeels was present, as well as Sagan the Cuyuga chieftain, later on theterror of the settlers; and that the young fellow who dressed much likea white man was really Joseph Brant, the adopted son of Sir WilliamJohnson, and later renowned as Thayendanega, the Mohawk scourge of theAmerican settlements; while others were Turtle Heart, old Bald Eagle,and Longboat of the Delawares.
Now the assembled Indians began to seat themselves cross-legged aroundthe council fire. It was easy to believe that the inner circle mustbe made up of those in whose hands lay the most power. Nor were theyall Indians. Here and there among the motley throng the watchers abovehad glimpsed a white man, usually a French Canadian trapper or trader.These men's sympathies were all with the war Pontiac was waging uponthe venturesome English, who had pushed their outposts so far in thedirection of the Mississippi.
Bob started when he recognized two familiar faces among those below;these were no other than Armand Lecroix, the leader of the men withwhom the Armstrong boys had quarrelled at the time the dispute aroseconcerning the ownership of the game; and another fellow equally asbrutal in his ways, Jacques Larue, with whom Bob and Sandy had hadtrouble in the past.
It was not surprise at seeing these men here among the hostile Indiansthat gave Bob that chilly feeling. He was only thinking how pleased theFrench trappers would be if they discovered how the grand council wasbeing spied upon, and who the unfortunates in the tree-top proved to be.
Looking closer, Bob felt positive he could recognize Pontiac. The mostnotorious Indian of history, whose one dream it had ever been to unitethe many tribes into a confederacy, and then sweep the hated palefacesback into the ocean from which they had sprung, was a notable figure.
His manner was commanding, and even his garb bespoke the kingly rolehe had taken upon himself. He was not above middle height, though hisfigure was commanding. His complexion was darker than is usual withhis race, and his features had a bold and stern expression, while hisbearing was that of a man accustomed to sweeping away all opposition bythe force of his imperious will.
Ordinarily Pontiac's attire was that of the primitive savage, girdedabout the loins, wearing beaded moccasins, and with his long black hairflowing loosely; but, when seated in council, he was wont to appear asBob and Sandy now gazed in awe upon him, plumed and painted in the fullcostume of war.
Every eye was fastened upon Pontiac when he spoke, after the pipe hadbeen passed around, and each member of the council had taken a whiff,sending a little puff toward each point of the compass. (Note 6.)
Although the voice of the great sachem reached them easily, neitherof the boys could understand what he said, as he made his passionateappeal to the chiefs of the Six Nations and many others assembledthere. It was easy however for them to guess that he was artfullyappealing to their passions and prejudices, and telling them how, ifonly all the red tribes would join together, they could once againpossess the land that their fathers had owned.
Then others spoke, some apparently in favor of the proposal of thegreat leader, others counselling caution. Thus time passed until a fullhour had gone. The boys had not dared even move all this while, thoughthey felt stiff and sore from so long perching upon the hard limbs.Screened by the leaves that still clung to the branches of the counciloak, they had seen one after another get up to give his views upon thesubject Pontiac had brought as a message from his powerful tribe thathad its home along the border of the other Great Lakes, where Detroitand similar frontier posts held out against the attacks of the alliedIndians.
No eye
was strong enough to pierce the screen that hid the three spies.Doubtless all of those below found enough to interest them in watchingthe play of passion, or entreaty, upon the faces of the speakers,without allowing their gaze to roam elsewhere. Most of all would theyfail to glance up amid the foliage of the oak, where only a lynx or awolverine might be expected to lurk, if indeed any living thing couldbe found there.
Sandy wished with all his heart that it were over. He had seen enough,and was fairly wild to get relief from his cramped position, Pontiac,after all, while possibly a wonderful man, might pall upon one!
There was one event, however, that broke up the monotony of hearingthose speeches in a tongue which they could not understand. Thishappened when the fiery Jacques Larue arose to his feet, and launchedinto a violent talk in the Indian language, which he seemed tounderstand as well as though he had been born a red man.
He apparently differed from the line of argument that the great sachemPontiac had advanced, for he frequently turned toward that individual,and seemed to shake his hand almost threateningly.
Whatever it may have been that stood between them, Bob knew wellthat it had no concern regarding the scheme to clean out the pioneersettlements along the Great Lakes and the Ohio River. Like all hisbreed, Larue would have welcomed such a catastrophe, could it bebrought about.
Perhaps his suspicions had been aroused, and he believed that this vastplot of Pontiac embraced the French as well as the English--that, afterthe latter had been wiped out, the red hosts, flushed with victory,were to turn upon their supporters, and finish the French also.
History tells us that Pontiac was suspected of harboring such a scheme,and only accepted the help of the French trappers and traders in orderto lull them into a condition of fancied security.
There was a sudden break in the harangue of Jacques Larue when Pontiac,as if stung beyond all control, sprang to his feet and struck theexcited French trapper full in the face.
A terrible moment of silence followed. Fully fifty dusky hands soughttomahawks and knives as the assemblage watched to see what the severalcompanions of Larue would do to avenge the open insult. One move wouldhave sealed their death, and those men knew it only too well.
Face to face Pontiac and the French trapper stood, with eye glaringinto eye. Then with a contemptuous laugh the chief made a movement withhis imperious hand, as if ordering Larue to get out of his sight beforehe gave the signal for him to be cut to pieces.
There was nothing for it but to obey, since Larue knew only too wellthat he had few friends among all that assemblage. Not one woulddare lift a hand against the dusky idol of the Indian tribes, thesilver-tongued and powerful sachem of the Pottawottomies.
He slunk away, and vanished beyond the outer circles; but that lastfrown which he bent on Pontiac told only too plainly what hatred andbitter venom was hidden in his black heart.
Nor did either of the watching and listening white boys imagine for amoment what a tremendous influence that very dramatic circumstance wasfated to have upon their own fortunes. And still it was so.
The great council, held under the famous oak where many such had takenplace in the years that were gone, broke up at last. The final speechhad been delivered by Pontiac himself; and once more his wonderfullypersuading voice seemed to be raised in pleading. The Iroquois chiefshad been divided, as near as Bob could make out, some being in favor ofjoining the tremendous chain of confederated tribes, while others clungto their well-known allegiance to the English.
Now the immense crowd had begun to melt away. By dozens and scoresthe Indians took themselves off, each tribe seeming to clingtogether. Pontiac himself, Bob noticed, seemed to accompany an oldand wise-looking chief who, from his dress, he believed must be thefamous Delaware sachem, Bald Eagle; and with them, too, was the Senecachieftain.
In ten minutes not an Indian was to be seen below. The fire had burneddown, and was slowly dying out. Sandy would have tried to make a movein order to at least change his position, only that his brother nudgedhim, and in this way warned the impatient one that they had not yetseen the end of the affair.
Figures were again moving under the sacred council oak tree. Once moredid the seven strange figures of the allied medicine men appear, toagain exhort the Great Spirit to listen to the appeals that had sorecently been spoken. They danced around the dying fire, they chantedin unison, they waved their arms, and rattled hollow gourds thatcontained hard seeds, until the effect was most awe-inspiring.
Finally, as a fitting wind-up to these queer proceedings that seemedto partake of the savage nature of the Indian, each of them tossed ahandful of powder in the embers of the fire. For the second time thatred flame arose, to bathe the entire vicinity in its fierce glow, andto avoid which the watchers aloft had need to close their aching eyes.
When they opened them again the seven medicine men had vanished,gliding away as silently as ghosts. Only the dying fire lay belowto tell them of the wonderful experience which they had just passedthrough, thanks to the sagacity and daring of their faithful guide,Blue Jacket.
There was no further use trying to restrain Sandy. He saw that thecoast below was clear, and felt that no Indian would dare profane thesacred meeting-place after the medicine men had thus consecrated itanew.
Nor did Blue Jacket attempt to stop him. They certainly could notremain where they were; and, since the Seneca village could not be agreat distance off, it might be well for them to try to find it.
As Bob knew, it was the intention of their dusky friend to enter, whenthey had discovered the wigwams of the tribe to which the abductor oflittle Kate belonged. He could play the part of a messenger from thesouth, sent to learn more about the plans of Pontiac, so that the everhostile Shawanees might be able to work in common with the rest of thetribes.
Once within the borders of the big village it would be easy for BlueJacket to discover whether Black Beaver had returned, and, if so, whatmanner of prisoner he had brought with him.
After that they could lay their heads together, to fashion a plan bymeans of which the girl might be spirited away.
Once on the ground Sandy began to stretch himself vigorously. Nearlytwo hours of confinement, without being allowed to move much of thetime, had apparently tied his young muscles in knots, so that theyactually pained him.
"I'm glad to be able to put up my hands again, I tell you," Sandyremarked, as he thus stretched his limbs, and drew in huge breaths, asthough he had not been allowed to use his lungs properly for fear lesthe thus betray their place of concealment to the watchful enemy below.
Bob was himself feeling much better since allowed to leave that hardperch in the thickest part of the giant oak. He would have so expressedhimself, no doubt, only that he was given no opportunity. Even as heopened his mouth to reply to his brother, a gruff voice broke in uponthem from the rear, saying:
"Zat is ver' goot, begar! Suppose, then, young monsieur continue toelevate ze hands, and so it vill not tempt me to shoot. If so be I mustpress zis trigger of ze gun, poof! it vill be ovaire so quick wif youall. Stand still, or ze consequences be on your own heads!"
Bob felt a cold chill as he listened to these scoffing words. Herecognized the voice as belonging to Armand Lacroix, the French trapperwho had given him such a look of hatred at the time there was a disputebetween them as to whom the game belonged, and which was settled infavor of the young pioneer.