CHAPTER III
THE SONG OF THE LEAVES
The night had come a full hour when Anue stopped in a little gladehemmed in by mighty oaks and beeches. The heat lightning flared again atthat moment, and Henry saw that every one besides Timmendiquas andhimself was panting. Enduring as were all Wyandots, they were glad thatAnue had stopped, and they were generous enough to cast looks ofapproval at the captive who stood among them still calm and stillbreathing regularly. Timmendiquas did more. He stepped into the circle,put one hand on Henry's shoulder, and looked him directly in the eyes.
"You are strong," he said gravely, "stronger even than most Wyandots,and your soul is that of the eagle. If the boy is what he is, what willthe man be?"
Henry knew that the words were meant, and he felt pride, but his modestywould not let him show it.
"I thank you, White Lightning," he replied with a similar gravity. "YourManitou was kind enough to give me a strong body, and I, like you, havelived in the woods."
"As I see," said the chief sententiously. "Now I tell you this. We willtake the bonds from your arms if you promise us not to seek to escapeto-night. Else you must lie among us bound, hand and foot, to a warrioron either side. See, we are willing to take your word."
Henry felt pride again. These Wyandots, mortal enemies, who had neverseen him before, would believe what he said, putting absolute faith intheir reading of his character. He looked up at the dusky sky, in whichnot a single star twinkled, and then at the black forest that circledabout them. Bound, and with a lightly sleeping Wyandot at either elbow,he would have a slender chance, indeed, of escape, and he could wellbide his time.
"I give the promise and with it my thanks, White Lightning," he said.
White Lightning cut the thongs with one sweep of his knife, and Henry'sarms fell free. Sharp pains shot through them as the circulation beganto flow with its old freedom, but he refused to wince. He had chosen apolicy, the one that he thought best fitted to his present condition,and he would abide by it through all things. He merely stepped a littleto one side and watched while they made the camp.
The task was quickly done. Three or four warriors gathered fallenbrushwood and set it on fire with flint and steel. Then they cooked overit strips of venison from their pouches, giving several strips to Henry,which he ate with no appearance of haste or eagerness, although he wasquite hungry.
It was growing very dark, and the lightning on the horizon became vividand intense. The air was heavy and oppressive. The fire burned with alanguid drooping flame, and the forest was absolutely still, except whenthe thunder grumbled like the low, ominous mutter of a distantcannonade.
"A storm comes," said Timmendiquas, glancing at the lowering skies.
"It will be here soon," said Henry, who knew that the words were spokento him.
Every warrior carried a blanket, which he now wrapped closely about hisbody, but Henry asked for nothing. He would not depart from his policy.
He stood in the center of the glade listening, although there was yetnothing to hear. But it was this extraordinary breathless silence thatimpressed him most. He felt as he breathed the heavy air that it was thesign of impending danger. The warning of the wind among the leaves hadnot been more distinct.
A long, rolling crash came from their right. "Heno (Thunder)!" saidWhite Lightning. He did not mean to say the obvious, but his emphasisindicated that it was very loud thunder.
The thunder sank away in a low, distant note that echoed grimly, andthen the breathless silence came again. A minute later the whole forestswam in a glare of light so dazzling that Henry was compelled to closehis eyes. It passed in an instant, and the wilderness was all black, butout of the southwest came a low, moaning sound.
"Iruquas (The wind)!" said the chief in the same sententious tone.
The groan became a rumble, and then, as the vanguard of the wind, camegreat drops of rain that pattered like hail stones.
"Inaunduse (It rains)," said the chief.
But it was merely a brief shower like a volley from withdrawingskirmishers, and then the rumble of the wind gave way to a crash whichrose in a moment to a terrible roar.
"A hurricane!" exclaimed Henry. As he spoke a huge compressed ball ofair which can be likened only to a thunderbolt struck them.
Strong as he was, Henry was thrown to the ground, and he saw the chiefgo down beside him. Then everything was blotted out in pitchy blackness,but his ears were filled with many sounds, all terrible, the fiercescreaming of the wind as if in wrath and pain, the whistling of boughsand brushwood, swept over his head, and the crash of great oaks andbeeches as they fell, snapped through at the trunk by the immense forceof the hurricane.
Henry seized some of the bushes and held on for his life. How thankfulhe was now that he had given his promise to the chief, and that hishands were free! A shiver swept over him from head to foot. Any momentone of the trees might fall upon him, but he was near the center of theglade, the safest place, and he did not seek to move.
He was conscious, as he clung to the bushes, of two kinds of movement.He was being pulled forward and he was being whirled about. The ball ofair as it shot from southwest to northeast revolved, also, withincredible rapidity. The double motion was so violent that it requiredall of Henry's great strength to keep from being wrenched loose from hisbushes.
The hurricane, in its full intensity, lasted scarcely a minute. Thenwith a tremendous rush and scream it swept off to the northeast, tearinga track through the forest like a tongue of flame in dry grass. Then therain, pouring from heavy black clouds, came in its wake, and thelightning, which had ceased while the thunderbolt was passing, began toflash fitfully.
Henry had seen hurricanes in the great Ohio Valley before, but never oneso fierce and violent as this, nor so tremendous in its manifestations.Awe and weirdness followed in the trail of that cannon ball of wind. Therumble of thunder, far and echoing, was almost perpetual. Blackestdarkness alternated with broad sheets of lightning so intense in tintthat the forest would swim for a moment in a reddish glare before theblackness came. Meanwhile the rain poured as if the bottom had droppedout of every cloud.
Henry struggled to his feet and stood erect. He could have easily dartedaway in the confusion and darkness among the woods, but such a thoughtdid not occur to him. He had given his promise, and he would keep itdespite the unexpected opportunity that was offered. He remained at theedge of the circle, while Timmendiquas, the real leader, hastilygathered his men and took count of them as best he could.
The chief, by the flare of the lightning, saw Henry, upright,motionless, and facing him. A singular flash of understanding quickerthan the lightning itself passed between the two. Then Timmendiquasspoke in the darkness:
"You could have gone, but you did not go."
"I gave my promise to stay, and I stayed," replied Henry in the sametone.
The lightning flared again, and once more Henry saw the eyes of thechief. They seemed to him to express approval and satisfaction. ThenTimmendiquas resumed his task with his men. Hainteroh of the broad backhad been dashed against a sapling, and his left arm was broken. Anotherman had been knocked senseless by a piece of brushwood, but was sittingup now. Three or four more were suffering from severe bruises, but notone uttered a complaint. They merely stood at attention while the chiefmade his rapid inspection. Every man had wrapped his rifle in hisblanket to protect it from the rain, but their bodies were drenched, andthey made no effort now to protect themselves.
Hainteroh pointed to his broken arm. The chief examined it critically,running his hand lightly over the fracture. Then he signaled to Anue,and the two, seizing the arm, set the broken bone in place. Hainterohnever winced or uttered a word. Splints, which White Lightning cut froma sapling, and strips of deerskin were bound tightly around the arm, asling was made of more deerskin from their own scanty garb, and naturewould soon do the rest for such a strong, healthy man as Hainteroh.
They stood about an hour in the glade until the lightning and thun
derceased, and the rain was falling only in moderation. Then they took upthe march again, going by the side of the hurricane's path. It wasimpossible for them to sleep on the earth, which was fairly runningwater, and Henry was glad that they had started. It was turning muchcolder, as it usually does in the great valley after such storms, andthe raw, wet chill was striking into his marrow.
The line was re-formed just as it had been before, with Anue leading,and they went swiftly despite the darkness, which, however, was not sodense as that immediately preceding and following the hurricane. Thetrained eyes of the Wyandot and of the prisoner could now easily see theway.
The coldness increased, and the diminishing rain now felt almost likehail stones, but the clouds were floating away toward the northeast, andthe skies steadily lightened. Henry felt the warming and strengtheninginfluence of the vigorous exercise. His clothing was a wet roll abouthim, but the blood began to flow in a vigorous stream through his veins,and his muscles became elastic.
They followed by the side of the hurricane's track for several miles,and Henry was astonished at the damage that it had done. Its path wasnot more than two hundred yards wide, but within that narrow spacelittle had been able to resist it. Trees were piled in tangled masses.Sometimes the revolving ball had thrown them forward and sometimes ithad thrown them, caught in the other whirl, backward.
They turned at last from this windrow of trees, and presently entered alittle prairie, where there was nothing to obstruct them. The rain wasnow entirely gone, and the clouds were retreating far down in thesouthwest. Timmendiquas looked up.
"Washuntyaandeshra (The Moon)," he said.
Henry guessed that this very long name in Wyandot meant the moon,because there it was, coming out from the vapors, and throwing a fleecylight over the soaked and dripping forest. It was a pleasing sight, afriendly one to him, and he now felt unawed and unafraid. The wildernessitself had no terrors for him, and he felt that somehow he would slipthrough the hands of the Wyandots. He had escaped so many times fromgreat dangers that it seemed to him a matter of course that he should doso once more.
They made greater speed on the prairie, which was covered only with longgrass and an occasional clump of bushes. But near its center somethingrose up from one of the clumps, and disappeared in a streak of brown.
"Oughscanoto (Deer)," said the chief.
But Henry had known already. His eyes were as quick as those ofTimmendiquas.
They crossed the prairie and entering the woods again went on withoutspeaking. The moonlight faded, midnight passed, when Anue suddenlystopped at the entrance to a rocky hollow, almost a cave, the innerextension of which had escaped the sweep of the storm.
"We rest here," said White Lightning to Henry. "Do you still give yourpromise?"
"Until I awake," replied the youth with a little laugh.
He entered the hollow, noticed that the dry leaves lay in abundance bythe rocky rear wall, threw himself down among them, and in a few momentswas asleep, while his clothes dried upon him. All the warriors quicklyfollowed his example except Timmendiquas and Anue, who sat down at theentrance of the hollow, with their rifles across their knees, andwatched. Neither spoke and neither moved. They were like bronze statues,set there long ago.
Henry awoke at the mystical hour when the night is going and the dawnhas not yet come. He did not move, he merely opened his eyes, and heremembered everything at once, his capture, the flight through theforest, and the hurricane. He was conscious of peace and rest. Hisclothes had dried upon him, and he had taken no harm. He felt neitherthe weight of the present nor fear for the future. He saw the duskyfigures of the Wyandots lying in the leaves about him sound asleep, andthe two bronze statues at the front of the stony alcove.
Clear as was Henry's recollection, a vague, dreamy feeling was mingledwith it. The wilderness always awoke all the primitive springs withinhim. When he was alone in the woods--and he was alone now--he was intouch with the nymphs and the fauns and the satyrs of whom he hadscarcely ever heard. Like the old Greeks, he peopled the forest with thecreatures of his imagination, and he personified nearly everything.
Now a clear sweet note came to his half-dreaming ear and soothed himwith its melody. He closed his eyes and let its sweetness pierce hisbrain. It was the same song among the leaves that he had heard when hewas out with the shiftless one, the mysterious wind with its invisiblehand playing the persistent and haunting measure on the leaves andtwigs.
It was definite and clear to Henry. It was there, the rhythmic note ranthrough it all the time, and for him it contained all the expression ofa human voice, the rise, the fall, the cadence, and the shade.
But its note was different now. It was not solemn, ominous, full ofwarning. It was filled with hope and promise, and he took its meaning tohimself. He would escape, he would rejoin his comrades, and the greatexpedition would end in complete success.
Stronger and fuller swelled the song, the mysterious haunting note thatwas played upon the leaves, and Henry's heart bounded in response. Hewas still in that vague, dreamy state in which things unseen look largeand certain, and this was a call intended for him. He glanced at thebrown statues. If they, too, heard, they made no sign. He glanced at theleaves, and he saw them moving gently as they were played by the unseenhand.
Henry closed his eyes again and listened to the note of hope, sweeterand more penetrating than ever. A great satisfaction suffused him, andhe did not open his eyes again. The dreamy state grew, and presently hefloated off again into a deep, restful slumber.
When Henry awoke the glade was flooded with brilliant sunlight. A warmwest wind was blowing and trees and grass were drying. Several of theWyandots were, like himself, just rising from sleep, but it was evidentthat others had been up far before, because at the edge of the glade laya part of the body of a deer, recently killed and dressed. OtherWyandots were broiling strips of the flesh on sharpened twigs over afire built in the center of the glade. The pleasant savor came toHenry's nostrils, and he sat up. Just at that moment a Wyandot, who hadevidently been hunting, returned to the glade, carrying on his arm alarge bird with beautiful bronze feathers.
"Daightontah," said Timmendiquas.
"I suppose that word means turkey," said Henry, who, of course,recognized the bird at once.
The chief nodded.
"Turkey is fine," said Henry, "but, as it won't be ready for some time,would you mind giving me a few strips of Oughscanoto, which I think iswhat you called it last night."
The young chief smiled.
"You learn fast," he said. "You make good Wyandot."
Henry seemed to see a significance in the tone and words, and he lookedsharply at White Lightning. A Spaniard, Francisco Alvarez, had tried totempt him once from his people, but the attempt was open and abrupt. Theapproach of the chief was far different, gentle and delicate. Moreover,he liked White Lightning, and, as Henry believed, the chief was much thebetter man of the two. But here as before there was only one answer.
The chief nodded at one of the men, who handed the broiled strips, andthe boy ate, not with haste and greediness, but slowly and with dignity.He saw that his conduct in the night and the storm had made animpression upon his captors, and he meant to deepen it. He knew theIndian and his modes of thought. All the ways of his life in thenorthwestern tribe readily came back to him, and he did the things thatwere of highest esteem in the Indian code.
Henry showed no anxiety of any kind. He looked about him contentedly, asif place and situation alike pleased him more than any other in theworld. But this was merely an approving, not an inquiring look. He didnot seem to be interested in anything beyond the glade. He was notsearching for any way of escape. He was content with the present,ignoring the future. When the time came for them to go he approachedWhite Lightning and held out his hands.
"I am ready to be bound," he said.
A low murmur of approval came from two or three of the Wyandots whostood near.
"Let the promise go another day?" said White Ligh
tning with a risinginflection.
"If you wish," said Henry. He saw no reason why he should not give sucha promise. He knew that the Wyandots would watch him far too well toallow a chance of escape, and another such opportunity as the storm wasnot to be expected.
The chief said not another word, but merely motioned to Henry, who tookhis old place as fourth in the line with Anue at the head. Then themarch was resumed, and they went steadily toward the northeast, movingin swiftness and silence. Henry made no further effort to embarrassHainteroh, who again was just before him. His reasons were two--theWyandot now had a broken arm, and the boy had already proved hisquality.
The day was beautiful after the storm. The sky had been washed clean bywind and rain, and now it was a clear, silky blue. The country, analternation of forest and little prairies, was of surpassing fertility.The pure air, scented with a thousand miles of unsullied wilderness, washeaven to the nostrils, and Henry took deep and long breaths of it. Hehad suffered no harm from the night before. His vigorous young framethrew off cold and stiffness, and he felt only the pleasure of aboundingphysical life. Although the wind was blowing, he did not hear that humannote among the leaves again. It was only when his mind was thoroughlyattuned and clothed about in a mystical atmosphere that it made aresponse. But his absolute belief that he would escape remained.
Henry was troubled somewhat by the thought of his comrades. He wasafraid, despite his warning to them, that they would leave the fleet andsearch for him when he did not return, and he knew that Adam Colfaxneeded them sorely. This was the country that they knew best, thecountry Adam Colfax and his men knew least. It was best for anotherreason that they did not seek him. So wary a foe as the Wyandot couldkeep away help from the outside, and, if he escaped, he must escapealone.
They traveled swiftly and almost without a word until noon, when theystopped for a half hour and ate. They did not light any fire, but tookcold food from their pouches, of which they had a variety, and once moreTimmendiquas was most hospitable.
"Oghtaeh (Squirrel)," he said, holding up a piece.
"Yes, thank you," replied the boy, who thought he recognized the flesh.
"Yuingeh (Duck)?" said the chief, holding up another piece.
"I'll take that, too," replied Henry.
"Sootae (Beaver)?" said the chief, producing a third.
"I'll risk that, too," replied Henry. "It looks good."
"Yungenah (Dog)?" said the hospitable Timmendiquas, offering a fourthfragment of meat.
Henry looked at it suspiciously.
"Yungenah?" he said. "Now, Chief, would you tell me what Yungenahmeans?"
"Dog," replied the Wyandot sententiously.
"No, no!" exclaimed Henry. "Take it away."
Timmendiquas smiled benevolently.
"Dog good," he said, "but not make you eat it. Wyandot glad enough toget it."
They continued the journey throughout the afternoon, and did not stopuntil after sunset. Henry's promise was renewed for the second time, andhe slept quietly within the circle of the Wyandots. He awakened once farin the night, and he saw that the watch was most vigilant. WhiteLightning was awake and sitting up, as also were three warriors. Thenight was clear and bright save for a few small harmless clouds. Henrysaw that he had made no mistake in renewing his promise. The chance ofescape had not yet come.
White Lightning noticed that his captive's eyes were open and he walkedover to him. This youth, so strong and so skillful, so brave and sofrank, appealed to the young chief. He would regret the necessity ofputting him to death. A way of escaping it would be welcome.
"It is not like last night," he said pleasantly.
"No," said Henry. "There is no chance of another storm."
"Oghtserah," said the chief, pointing to the small, harmless clouds.
"But they are too little to mean anything," said Henry, guessing fromthe chief's gesture that "Oghtserah" meant clouds.
"You learn Wyandot," said the chief in the same pleasant tone. "Youlearn fast. See Tegshe."
He glanced up.
"Stars?" guessed Henry.
The chief smiled again.
"It is right," he said. "You stay long with us, you learn to talk toWyandot. Look!"
He held up one finger.
"Scat," he said.
He held up two.
"Tindee," he said.
He held up three.
"Shaight," he said.
He held up four. "Andaught."
Five--"Weeish."
Six--"Washaw."
Seven--"Sootare."
Eight--"Acetarai."
Nine--"Aintru."
Ten--"Aughsah."
"Now you count ten," he said somewhat in the tone of a schoolmaster toHenry.
"All right," said Henry tractably. "Here goes: Scat, Tindee, Shaight,Andaught, Weeish, Washaw, Sootare, Acetarai, Aintru, Aughsah."
The chief's smile deepened.
"You good memory," he said. "You learn very fast." Then he added after amoment's hesitation: "You make good Wyandot. Wyandots small nation, butbravest, most cunning and most enduring of all. Wyandot being burned atthe stake calls for his pipe and smokes it peacefully while he dies inthe fire."
"I don't doubt it," said Henry, who had heard of such cases.
The chief glanced at him and concluded that he said enough on thatpoint. Once more he looked up.
"Washuntyaandeshra."
"The moon," said Henry. "Yes, it's bright."
"You learn. You remember," said the chief. "Now you sleep again."
He walked away, and Henry closed his eyes, but did not go to sleep justyet. He had understood Timmendiquas perfectly, and it troubled him. Heliked the young chief, but white he was and white he would remain. Heresolutely forced the question out of his mind, and soon he was fastasleep again.