CHAPTER XXII
THE SPEECH OF TIMMENDIQUAS
A score of Indian chiefs sat in the center of a little, almost circular,prairie, about a half mile across. All these chiefs were men ofdistinction in their wild forest way, tall, lean, deep-chested, and withblack eyes full of courage and pride. They wore deerskin dress,supplemented with blankets of bright blue or red, but deerskin andblankets alike were of finer quality than those worn by the warriors,many hundreds in number, who surrounded the chiefs, but at a respectfuldistance.
However commanding the chiefs were in presence, all yielded in thisparticular to one, a young man of great height, magnificent figure, anda singularly bold and open countenance. He was painted much less thanthe others, and the natural nobility of his features showed.Unconsciously the rest had gathered about him until he was the center ofthe group, and the eyes of every man, Red Eagle, Yellow Panther, CaptainPipe, and all, were upon him. It was the spontaneous tribute to valorand worth.
Near the group of chiefs, but just a little apart, sat four white menand one white boy, although the boy was as large as the men. They, too,looked over the heads of the others at the young chief in the center,and around both, grouped in a mighty curve, more than fifteen hundredwarriors waited, with eyes fixed on the same target to see what theyoung chief might do or to hear what he might say.
There was an extraordinary quality in this scene, something that thewilderness alone can witness. It was shown in the fierce, eager glanceof every brown face, the rapt attention, and the utter silence, save forthe multiplied breathing of so many. A crow, wheeling on black wings inthe blue overhead, uttered a loud croak, astonished perhaps at thespectacle below, but no one paid any attention to him, and, utteringanother croak, he flew away. A rash bear at the edge of the wood wasalmost overpowered by the human odor that reached his nostrils, but,recovering his senses, he lurched away in the other direction.
It was Yellow Panther, the veteran chief, who at last broke the silence.
"What does the great Timmendiquas, head chief of the Wyandots, think ofthe things that we have done?" he asked.
Timmendiquas remained silent at least two minutes more, although alleyes were still centered upon him, and then he rose, slowly and with theutmost dignity, to his feet. A deep breath like the sighing of the windcame from the crowd, and then it was still again.
Timmendiquas did not yet speak, nor did he look at any one. His gaze wasthat of the seer. He looked over and beyond them, and they felt awe. Hewalked slowly to a little mound, ascended it, and turned his gaze allaround the eager and waiting circle. The look out of his eyes hadchanged abruptly. It was now that of the warrior and chief who woulddestroy his enemies. Another minute of waiting, and he began to speak ina deep, resonant voice.
"You are here," he cried, "warriors and men of many tribes, Shawnee,Miami, Delaware, Illinois, Ottawa, and Wyandot. All who live in thevalley north of the Ohio and east of the Mississippi are here. You arebrave men. Sometimes you have fought with one another. In this strifeall have won victory and all have suffered defeat. But you lived thelife that Manitou made you to live, and you were happy, in your own way,in a great and fair land that is filled with game.
"But a new enemy has come, and, like the buffalo on the far westernplains, his numbers are past counting. When one is slain five grow inhis place. When Manitou made the white man he planted in his soul thewish to possess all the earth, and he strives night and day to achievehis wish. While he lives he does not turn back, and dead, his bonesclaim the ground in which they lie. He may be afraid of the forest andthe warrior. The growl of the bear and the scream of the panther maymake him tremble, but, trembling, he yet comes."
He paused and looked once more around the whole length of the circle. Adeep murmur of approval broke forth, but the forest orator quieted itwith a single lift of his hand.
"The white man," he resumed, "respects no land but his own. If it doesnot belong to himself he thinks that it belongs to nobody, and thatManitou merely keeps it in waiting for him. He is here now with hiswomen and children in the land that we and our fathers have owned sincethe beginning of time. Many of the white men have fallen beneath ourbullets and tomahawks. We have burned their new houses and uprootedtheir corn, but they are more than they were last year, and next yearthey will be more than they are now."
He paused again and looked over the circle of his auditors. His eyeswere flashing, and his great figure seemed to swell and grow. Like somany men of the woods he was a born orator, and practice had increasedhis eloquence. A deep, angry murmur came from the crowd. The passion intheir hearts responded to the passion in his voice. Even the white men,the renegades, black with treason and crime, were moved.
"They will be more next year than they are now," resumed Timmendiquas,"if we do not drive them back. Our best hunting grounds are there beyondthe Beautiful River, in the land that we call Kain-tuck-ee, and it isthere that the smoke from their cabins lies like a threat across thesky. It is there that they continually come in their wagons across themountains or in the boats down the river.
"The men of our race are brave, they are warriors, they have not yieldedhumbly to the coming of the white man. We have fought him many times.Many of the white scalps are in our wigwams. Sometimes Manitou has givento us the victory, and again he has given it to this foe of ours whowould eat up our whole country. We were beaten in the attack on theplace they call Wareville, we were beaten again in the attack on thegreat wagon train, and we have failed now in our efforts against thefort and the fleet. Warriors of the allied tribes, is it not so?"
He paused once more, and a deep groan burst from the great circle. Hewas playing with the utmost skill upon their emotions, and now everyface clouded as he recalled their failures and losses to them, failuresand losses that they could not afford.
"He is a genius," said Simon Girty to Braxton Wyatt. "I do not like him,but I will say that he is the greatest man in the west."
"Sometimes I'm afraid of him," said Braxton Wyatt.
The face of Timmendiquas was most expressive. When he spoke of theirdefeats his eyes were sad, his features drooped, and his voice took on awailing tone. But now he changed suddenly. The head was thrown back, thechin was thrust out fiercely and aggressively, the black eyes becamecoals of fire, and the voice, challenging and powerful, made every heartin the circle leap up.
"But a true warrior," he said, "never yields. Manitou does not love thecoward. He has given the world, its rivers, its lakes, its forests, andits game, to the brave man. Warriors of the allied tribes, are you readyto yield Kain-tuck-ee, over which your fathers have hunted from thebeginning of time, to the white man who has just come?"
A roar burst from the crowd, and with a single impulse fifteen hundredvoices answered, "No!" Many snatched their tomahawks from their beltsand waved them threateningly as if the hated white man already stoodwithin reach of the blade. Even the old veterans, Yellow Panther and RedEagle, were stirred in every fiber, and shouted "No!" with the others.
"I knew that you would say 'No,'" continued Timmendiquas, "althoughthere are some among you who lost courage, though only for the moment,and wanted to go home, saying that the white man was too strong. Whenthe fleet reached the fort they believed that we had failed, but we havenot failed. We are just beginning to tread our greatest war path. Theforces of the white men are united; then we will destroy them all atonce. Warriors, will you go home like women or stay with your chiefs andfight?"
A tremendous shout burst from the crowd, and the air was filled with thegleam of metal as they waved their tomahawks. Excited men began to beatthe war drums, and others began to dance the war dance. But Timmendiquassaid no more. He knew when to stop.
He descended slowly and with dignity from the mound, and with the otherchiefs and the renegades he walked to a fire, around which they sat,resuming their council. But it was not now a question of fighting, itwas merely a question of the best way in which to fight.
"Besides the fleet, Daniel Boone, Simon Ke
nton, and thirty or forty menlike them have come to the relief of the fort," said Girty.
"It is so," said Timmendiquas.
"It would be a great stroke," continued the renegade, "to destroy Booneand Kenton along with the fort and the fleet"--he was as anxious asTimmendiquas to continue the attack.
"That, too, is so," said Timmendiquas gravely. "While it makes our taskthe greater, it will make our triumph the greater, also. We will watchthe fleet, which I do not think will move yet, and when our warriors arerested and restored we will attack again."
"Beyond a doubt you're right," said Girty. "We could never retreat nowand leave them to enjoy a victory. It would encourage them too much anddiscourage our own people too much."
Timmendiquas gave him a lightning glance when he used the phrase "ourown people," and Girty for the moment quailed. He knew that the greatWhite Lightning did not like him, and he knew why. Timmendiquas believedthat a man should be loyal to his own race, and in his heart he mustregard the renegade as what he was--a traitor. But Girty, with all hiscrimes, was not a coward, and he was cunning, too, with the cunning ofboth the white man and the red. He recovered his courage and continued:
"The taking of this fleet in particular would be the greatest triumphthat we could achieve, and it would be a triumph in a double way. It hasvast quantities of powder, lead, cannon, pistols, bayonets, medicines,clothing, and other supplies for the people in the east, who arefighting our friends, the British. If we should take it we'd not onlyweaken the Americans, but also secure for ourselves the greatest prizeever offered in the west."
The eyes of all the chiefs glistened, and Girty, shrewd and watchful,noticed it. He sought continually to build up his influence among them,and he never neglected any detail. Now he reached under his buckskinhunting shirt and drew forth a soiled piece of paper.
"Braxton Wyatt here, a loyal and devoted friend of ours, has been in thesouth," he said. "He was at New Orleans and he knows all about thisfleet. He knows how it was formed and he knows what it carries. Listen,Timmendiquas, to what awaits us if we are shrewd enough and brave enoughto take it:
"One thousand rifles.
"Six hundred muskets.
"Six hundred best French bayonets.
"Four hundred cavalry sabers.
"Two hundred horse pistols, single-barreled.
"Two hundred horse pistols, double-barreled.
"Three hundred dirks.
"Six brass eighteen-pounder field pieces.
"Four brass twelve-pounder field pieces.
"Two brass six-pounder field pieces.
"Four bronze twelve-pounder field guns.
"Ten thousand rounds of ammunition for the cannon.
"Two hundred barrels of best rifle powder.
"Thirty thousand pounds of bar lead and more than two hundred thousanddollars worth of clothing, provisions, and medicines.
"Wouldn't that make your mouth water? Did any of us ever before have achance to help at the taking of such a treasure?"
"It is not wonderful that the white men fight so well to keep what theycarry," said Timmendiquas.
Then the chief questioned Braxton Wyatt closely about the fleet and themen who were with it. His questions were uncommonly shrewd, and theyoung leader saw that he was trying to get at the character of the boy.Wyatt was compelled to give minute descriptions of Adam Colfax,Drouillard and the five, Henry Ware, Paul, Shif'less Sol, Tom Ross, andLong Jim.
"We know him whom you call the Ware," said Timmendiquas with a sort ofgrim humor, "and we have seen his strength and speed. Although but a boyin years, he is already a great warrior. He is the one whom you hate themost, is he not?"
He looked straight into Braxton Wyatt's eyes, and the young renegade hadan uncomfortable feeling that the chief was having fun at his expense.
"It is so," he admitted reluctantly. "I have every cause to hate him. Hehas done me much harm, and I would do the same to him."
"The youth called the Ware fights for his own people," said Timmendiquasgravely.
There was an uncomfortable silence for a minute, but the flexible Girtymade the best of it.
"And Braxton, who is a most promising boy, fights for his, too," hesaid. "He has adopted the red race, he belongs to it, and it is his, asmuch as if he was born to it."
Timmendiquas shrugged his shoulders, and, rising, walked away. Girtyfollowed him with a bitter and malevolent glance.
"I wish I was strong enough to fight against you, my haughty redfriend," was his thought, "but I'm not, and so I suppose it's policy forme to fight for you."
The Indians devoted the rest of that day to recuperation. Despite theirlosses, perfect concord still existed among the tribes, and, inflamed bytheir own natural passions and the oratory of Timmendiquas, they wereeager to attack again. They had entire confidence in the young Wyandotchief, and when he walked among them old and young alike followed himwith looks of admiration.
Hunters were sent northward after game, buffalo, deer, and wild turkeysbeing plentiful, and the others, after cleaning their rifles, slept onthe ground. The renegades still kept to themselves in a large buffaloskin tepee, although they intended to mingle with the warriors later on.They knew, despite the dislike of Timmendiquas, that their influence wasgreat, and that it might increase.
Twilight came over the Indian camp. Many of the warriors, exhausted fromthe battle and their emotions, still slept, lying like logs upon theground. Others sat before the fires that rose here and there, and ategreedily of the food that the hunters had brought in. On the outskirtsnear the woods the sentinels watched, walking up and down on silentfeet.
Simon Girty, prince of renegades, sat at the door of the great buffaloskin tepee and calmly smoked a pipe, the bowl of which contained somevery good tobacco. His eyes were quiet and contemplative, and his darkfeatures were at rest. In the softening twilight he might have seemed agood man resting at his door step, with the day's work well done.
Nor was Simon Girty unhappy. The fallen, whether white or red, werenothing to him. He need not grieve over a single one of them. Despitethe distrust of Timmendiquas, he saw a steady growth of his power andinfluence among the Indians, and it was already great. He watched thesmoke from his pipe curl up above his face, and then he closed his eyes.But the picture that his fancy had drawn filled his vision. He was noobscure woods prowler. He was a great man in the way in which he wishedto be great. His name was already a terror over a quarter of a millionsquare miles. Who in the west, white or red, that had not heard of SimonGirty? When he spoke the tribes listened to him, and they listened withrespect. He was no beggar among them, seeking their bounty. He broughtthem knowledge, wisdom, and victory. They were in his debt, not he intheirs. But this was only the beginning. He would organize them and leadthem to other and greater victories. He would use this fierce chief,Timmendiquas, for his own purposes, and rise also on his achievements.
The soul of Simon Girty was full of guile and cunning and great plans.He opened his eyes, but the vision did not depart. He meant to make itreal. Braxton Wyatt came to the door, also, and stood there looking atthe Indian horde. Girty regarded him critically, and noted once morethat he was tall and strong. He knew, too, that he was bold andskillful.
"Braxton," he said, and his tone was mild and persuasive, "why are youso bitter against this boy Ware and his comrades?"
The young renegade frowned, but after a little hesitation he replied:
"We came over the mountains together and we were at Wareville together,but I never liked him. I don't know why it was in the beginning, but Isuppose it was because we were different. Since then, in all thecontests between us, he and his friends have succeeded and I havefailed. I have been humiliated by him, too, more than once. Are notthese causes enough for hatred?"
Girty drew his pipe from his mouth, and blew a ring of smoke thatfloated slowly above his head.
"They are good enough causes," he replied, "but I've learned this,Braxton: it doesn't pay to have special hatreds, to be trying always t
oget revenge upon some particular person. It interferes too much withbusiness. I don't like Timmendiquas, because he doesn't like me, doesn'tapprove of me, and gives me little stabs now and then. But I don't wasteany time trying to injure him. I'm going to make use of him."
"I can't make use of Henry Ware and the others," said Braxton Wyattimpatiently.
Girty blew another ring of smoke and laughed.
"No, you can't, and that's the truth," he said, "but what I wanted totell you was not to be in too great a hurry. You've got talents,Braxton. I've been watching you, and I see that you're worth having withus. Just you stick to me, and I'll make a great man of you. I'm going toconsolidate all these tribes and sweep the west clean of every white.I'm going to be a king, I tell you, a woods king, and I'll make you aprince, if you stick to me."
A glow appeared in the eyes of Braxton Wyatt.
"I'll stick to you fast enough," he said.
"Do it," said Girty in a tone of confidence, "and you can have all therevenge you want upon the boy, Ware, his comrades, and all the rest ofthem. Maybe you won't have to wait long, either."
"That is, if we take the fort," said Wyatt.
"Yes, if we take the fort, and I'm specially anxious to take it now,because Dan'l Boone is in it. I don't hate Boone more than I do others,but he's a mighty good man to have out of our way."
McKee, Eliot, Quarles, and Blackstaffe joined them, and long after thetwilight had gone and the night had come they talked of their wickedplans.