CHAPTER IV
THE FOREST VILLAGE
They traveled another day and another, always rapidly. Henry continuedhis policy and asked no questions. He divined, however, that theWyandots were on the way to a village of theirs, either permanent ortemporary, probably the latter, as they were far west of the countryconceded by the other Indians to be Wyandot.
He surmised, also, that the red alliance against the white vanguard hadbeen enlarged until it included all the tribes of the Ohio Valley northof the river. He knew very well how all these tribes were situated,their great villages at Chillicothe, Piqua, and other places, whence itwas easy for them to make raids upon the settlements south of the Ohioand then retreat into the vast wilderness north of it, where it wasexceedingly dangerous to follow them. Should he escape, he would not besorry to have been a prisoner, since he might learn all their plans,knowledge as precious as diamonds.
On the fourth day they checked their speed, and a lithe young Indianwhom Henry heard called Thraintonto, which means in Wyandot The Fox,stripped himself of his breech clout, gave his long and defiant scalplock a somewhat fiercer curl, and darted ahead of the band.
He was the swiftest runner in the war party, chosen specially byTimmendiquas for an important duty, and Henry knew very well the natureof his errand. The Wyandot village now lay not far away, and Thraintontosped ahead, a messenger, to tell that the war party had achievedvictory, and was approaching with the proof of it.
He watched the figure of Thraintonto dart away and then disappear, aflash of brown in the green wilderness. He knew that The Fox was filledwith the importance of his mission. None could be more welcome to anIndian.
The band resumed its march after the brief stop, now proceeding inleisurely fashion through a beautiful country, magnificently wooded andabounding in game. Little brooks of clear fresh water, thecharacteristic of the Ohio Valley, abounded everywhere. They were nevera half mile from one, and now and then they came to a large creek. Henrywas quite sure that they would soon reach the river that received allthese creeks.
They stopped two or three hours later, and went through a solemn rite.Brushes and paint were produced--everything had been arranged for inadvance--and all the members of the band were painted grotesquely. Red,blue, and yellow figures were depicted upon their faces, shoulders, andchests. Not a square inch of exposed skin was left without its pictorialtreatment. Then every man put on a beautiful headdress of white featherstaken from different birds, and, when all was done, they formed insingle file again, with Timmendiquas, in place of Anue, now at theirhead. The chief himself would lead the victorious band to the village,which was certainly near at hand.
The advance was resumed. It was not merely a return. It partook in itsnature of a triumphal progress, like some old festival of the Greeks orPh[oe]nicians. They came presently to a cedar tree, and from this WhiteLightning broke a branch, upon which he hung the two scalps that theyhad taken. Then, bearing the branch conspicuously in his right hand, headvanced and began a slow monotonous chant. All the warriors took up thechant, which had little change save the rising and falling of the note,and which, like most songs of savages, was plaintive and melancholy.
Henry, who, as usual, followed the broad brown back of Hainteroh,observed everything with the keenest attention. He was all eyes andears, knowing that any detail learned now might be of value to himlater.
They crossed the crest of a low hill, and he caught sight of lodges, ahundred perhaps in number, set in a warm valley, by the side of thesmall clear river that he had surmised was near. The lodges of buffaloor deerskin stood in a cluster, and, as it was a full quarter mile onevery side to the woods, there was no chance for a lurking foe to lie inambush. Henry noticed at once that there were no fields for maize orbeans, and he was confirmed in his opinion that the village wastemporary. He noticed, too, that the site of the place was chosen withgreat judgment. It lay in the angle of the river, which formed an elbowhere, flowing between high banks, and on the other two sides rows offallen logs formed an admirable defense in forest warfare.
The band paused a few moments at the crest of the hill, and began tochant more loudly. In front of the village was a concourse of warriors,women, and children, who joined in the song, and who opened out toreceive the victors as they came marching on.
The chant swelled in volume, and its joyous note was now marked. But notone of the marching warriors relaxed a particle from his dignity. WhiteLightning strode majestically, a magnificent figure of savage man, andled the way to a war pole in the center of the village, in front of acouncil house built of poles. Near the foot of this pole a fire wasburning.
Henry stepped from the line when they came to the war pole, and thewarriors, secretly admiring their splendid trophy, closed in about him,cutting off all chance of escape, should he try it. But he had nothought of making such an attempt. His attention was centered now on theceremonies.
The war band formed in a group, the war pole in the center. Then twowarriors fastened two blocks of wood on a kind of rude ark that lay nearthe war pole. This wooden ark, carved like a totem, was the most sacredof all objects to the Wyandots.
All the returned warriors sat down upon the ground, and the great youngchief, Timmendiquas, inquired gravely whether his lodge was ready forhim. An old man replied that it had been swept clean and prepared by thewomen, and Timmendiquas and his warriors, rising from the ground,uttered a tremendous whoop. Then they marched gravely in a circle aboutthe pole, after which they took up the ark and carried it solemnly tothe council house. When they entered the council house, bearing the arkwith them, they closed the door behind them.
The whole population of the village was packed densely in front of thecouncil house, and when the door was shut upon the victorious war bandall the female kin of the warriors within, except those too young or tooold to take part, advanced, while the crowd swung back to give themroom, and arranged themselves in two parallel lines, facing each otheron either side of the door of the council house.
These women were dressed in all their barbaric finery. They worebeautiful headdresses of feathers, red and white and blue and yellow.Their faces were painted, but not so glaringly as those of the warriors.Even here in the wilderness woman's taste, to a certain extent,prevailed. They wore tunics of finely dressed deerskins, or, in somecases, bright red and blue shawls, bought at British posts, deerskinleggings, and moccasins. Much work had been lavished upon the moccasins,which were of the finest skin, delicately tanned and ornamented withhundreds of little beads, red, yellow, blue, green and every othercolor.
Many of the younger women, not yet wrinkled or bent by hard work, werequite pretty. They were slim and graceful, and they had the lightnessand freedom of wild things. Henry was impressed by the open and boldbearing of them all, women as well as men. He had heard much of theWyandots, the flower of all the western tribes, and now at close rangehe saw that all he had heard was true, and more.
As soon as the two lines were formed, and they were arranged with thegreatest exactitude and evenness, the women, as they faced one another,began a slow monotonous chant, which, however, lasted only a minute. Atthe end of this minute there was profound silence for ten minutes. Thewomen, trained for these ceremonies, stood so perfectly still that Henrycould not see a body quiver. At the end of the ten minutes there wasanother minute of chanting, and then ten more minutes of silence, andthus, in this proportion of ten minutes of silence to one minute ofsong, the alternation would be kept up all day and all night.
Once every three hours Timmendiquas would come forth at the head of hiswarriors, raise the war whoop, pass around the war pole, bearing aloft abranch of cedar, and then return to the council house, closing the doorfirmly as before.
Meanwhile Henry's attention was taken from the ceremonies by a mostsignificant thing. He had been conscious for a while that some one inthe closely packed ring of Wyandot spectators was watching him. He had asort of feeling as of cold upon the back of his neck, and he shivered alittle. He knew
, therefore, that the look directed upon him was evil,but pride kept him from showing undue curiosity before the Wyandots, whowere trained to repress every emotion. He too, had, in these respects,instincts kindred with those of the Wyandots.
Presently he turned slowly and carelessly, and found that he was lookinginto the savage, sneering eyes of Braxton Wyatt, the young renegade, whomore than once had sought the destruction of Henry and his comrades.Although they could not find his body, he had hoped that Wyatt hadperished in the great battle on the Lower Mississippi, because it mightsave the border much, but, now that he was alive and here, Henry refusedto show surprise, alarm, or any other emotion. He merely shrugged hisshoulders ever so slightly, and his glance passed on. But he knew thatBraxton Wyatt was swelling with malignant triumph. Fortune had changedher face, and it was his day to smile. Henry Ware was there, a prisoneramong the Wyandots--and a prisoner of the Wyandots seldom escaped--whilehe, Braxton Wyatt, could exult over him and see him die. Truly, it wasan amazing turn of the wheel, and Henry felt all the bitterness of it,although his expression did not alter a particle.
The boy's eyes roamed back again, and he saw that Braxton Wyatt's wasnot the only white face in the crowd. Five men stood near him, and,tanned and browned as they were, it was obvious that they belonged tothe white race. He surmised readily by their air of perfect confidenceand freedom that they were renegades, also, and he was not wrong. As hewas soon to learn, they were Simon Girty, name of incredible infamy onthe border, Moses Blackstaffe, but little his inferior in cunning andcruelty, and McKee, Eliot and Quarles. So Braxton Wyatt, white youthamong the Indians, was not alone. He had found men of his race as bad ashimself, and Henry knew that he would thrive in such company.
Henry guessed that the renegade who stood a little in front of theothers, who seemed by his manner and bearing to consider himself theirleader, was the terrible Girty, a man who left behind him an almostunbelievable record for cruelty and treachery to his own race. He waspartly in Indian, partly in white dress, and when his glance fell uponHenry it was full of most inhuman mockery. The boy's wrath flamed up. Hedid not seek now to practice the Indian stoicism and repress hisfeelings. His eyes, blazing with indignation, looked straight into thoseof Girty, with a gaze so stern and accusing and so full of contempt thatthe renegade, unable to withstand it, lowered his own eyes.
Braxton Wyatt had seen this little passage, and Henry's triumph of themoment increased his hatred. He longed to say something, to taunt himwith his position, something that his ignoble soul was not above, but hedid not dare to do it just then. He and his fellow renegades wished tosway the Wyandots to a purpose of theirs, and any interruption now ofthe ceremonies, which, in fact, were a sacred rite, would bring fierceanger down upon his head.
Henry remained about four hours in the crowd, and then, an old man,whose dignity and bearing showed that he held a chief's rank, tapped himon the shoulder.
"Come," he said in fair English, "I am Heno, and you are our prisoner."
Henry had learned already that Heno in Wyandot meant Thunder, and heanswered cheerfully.
"Very well, my good Thunder, lead on, and I'll follow."
The old chief gravely led the way, and the throng opened out to let thempass. Henry glanced back at the two swaying lines of women, now engagedin one of their minute-long chants, and he wondered at the illimitablepatience of the red race, to whom time seemed nothing.
Unless some great movement, like a sudden attack by an enemy or thenecessity of a forced march, interfered, the warriors would go in andout of the council house for three days, when all except the leader andone attendant warrior would go forth to their lodges, which would beswept clean for them, and which would be decorated with twigs of cedaror pieces of scalps to satisfy the ghosts of departed friends. ButTimmendiquas and his attendant would remain three more days and nightsin the council house to complete their purification. When they emergedthe medicine bag would be hung before the lodge door of Timmendiquas.Unless the village was removed, it would hang there a month, and thepeople would sing and dance before it at intervals.
As Henry passed through the throng, following close behind old Heno,many admiring glances were bent upon him by the great little red nationof the Wyandots. These children of the wilderness knew the value of atall, straight figure, powerful shoulders, a splendid chest and limbsthat seemed to be made of woven wire. Here was one, already mighty amonghis kind, although but a boy.
Heno led the way to a bark lodge in the center of the village, andmotioned to Henry to enter.
"I must bind you," he said, "because if I did not you are so strong andso swift that you might escape from us. If you will not suffer me to tiethe cords I shall call the help of other warriors."
"There is no need of a fight about it, Thunder," said Henry genially. "Iknow you can bring in enough warriors to overpower anybody, so goahead."
He held out his hands, and the old chief looked somewhat embarrassed atthe willingness and cheerfulness of the captive. Nevertheless, heproduced deerskin cords and bound the boy's wrists, not so tightly thatthe cords hurt, but with ingenious lacings that Henry knew he couldneither slip nor break. Then, as the captive sat down on a rush mat andleaned against the bark wall of the lodge, old Heno regarded himattentively.
Thunder, old but brave warrior of the Wyandots, was a judge of promisingyouth, and he thought that in his sixty years of life he had never seenanother so satisfactory as this prisoner, save perhaps the mighty youngchief, known to his own people as Timmendiquas and to the settlers asWhite Lightning. He looked at the length of limb and the granddevelopment of shoulders and chest, and he sighed ever so gently. Hesighed because in his opinion Manitou should have bestowed such greatgifts upon a Wyandot, and not upon a member of the white race. Yet Henodid not actually hate the prisoner. Coiled at the bottom of his heart,like a tiny spring in a watch, was a little hope, and this little hope,like the tiny spring, set all the machinery of his mind in motion.
"You no like being captive, held in lodge, with arms tied?" he saidgently.
Henry smiled.
"No, I don't enjoy it," he replied. "It's not the situation that Ishould choose for myself."
"You like to be free," continued old Heno with the same gentle gravity."You like to be out in the forest with Whoraminta?"
"Yes," replied Henry, "I'd like to be free, and I'd like to be out inthe forest, but I don't know about Whoraminta. I'm not acquainted withhim, and he might not be a pleasant comrade."
"Whoraminta! Whoraminta!" repeated Heno. "Cannot think of your word forit. It is this!"
He threw himself into a firm attitude, held out one hand far, extendedthe other about half so far, shut his left eye, and looked with theright intently along the level of his two hands. Henry understood thepantomime perfectly.
"I know," he said. "Whoraminta is a rifle. You're right, Thunder, I'dlike mighty well to be out in the forest with my Whoraminta, one of thetrustiest and best comrades I ever had."
Heno's smile answered that of the captive.
"And with plenty of Teghsto?" he said.
"Teghsto?" said Henry. "That's new to me. Can't you think of the Englishword for it?"
Heno shook his head, but closed his right hand until it formedapproximately the shape of a horn, then elevated it and held it as if hewere pouring something into the open palm of his left hand.
"Use in Whoraminta," he said.
"That's not hard," said Henry. "Powder you mean."
"That right," said Heno, smiling again. "Teghsto go in Whoraminta, andYeatara go in Whoraminta, too. You want plenty of Yeatara."
"Lead! bullets!" said Henry at a guess.
"Yes. That it. Yeatara is lead, and you snap with Taweghskera; firespark jump out flash! bang! You want Taweghskera, too."
"Taweghskera must be flint," said Henry, and old Heno nodded. "Yes,Thunder, I'd want the flint, too, or I couldn't do anything at all withWhoraminta, Teghsto and Yeatara. I'll remember those words, my friend.Thanks for your free teachin
g."
"You learn fast. You make good Wyandot," said Heno in the most friendlymanner. "You have your arms, your feet free, Whoraminta with you, you gowith the warriors on great hunt, you gone many moons, you kill the deer,buffalo, bear, panther, you have no care, no sorrow, you live. I, too,was a young hunter and warrior once."
Old Heno slowly drew his figure up at the glorious picture that he hadpainted. His nostrils were distended, and the fire of his youth cameback into his eyes. He saw the buffaloes trampling down the grass, andheard the shout of his enemies in the forest combat.
"I'm thinking, Heno," said Henry sincerely, "that you're yet a good dealof a young hunter and warrior."
"You not only make good warrior, but you make good chief, too. You knowhow to talk," said Heno.
Nevertheless, he was pleased, and he was still smiling when he left afew moments later. Nobody else came for a day and night, old Henobringing him his food and water. He did not suffer any actual physicalpain, as his bonds permitted him to move a little and the circulationwas not impeded, but he chafed terribly. The picture that Heno had drawnof the great forest and the great hunt was most alluring. He longed forfreedom and his "Whoraminta."
A visitor came on the second morning. The lodge door was opened and athick figure filled it a moment as a man entered. Henry was sitting on amat at the farthest part of the lodge, and he could see the man veryclearly. The stranger was young, twenty-seven or twenty-eight perhaps,thick set and powerful, tanned to the brownness of an Indian by sun,wind and rain, but the features obviously were those of the white race.It was an evil face, but a strong one. Henry felt a shiver of repulsion.He felt that something demoniac had entered the lodge, because he knewthat this was Simon Girty, the terrible renegade, now fully launchedupon the career that made his name infamous throughout the Ohio Valleyto this day.
But after the little shiver, Henry was without motion of expression.Show apprehension in the presence of such a man! He would rather die.Girty laughed and sat down on the mat on the other side of the lodge.But it was a small lodge, and their faces were not more than four feetapart. Henry read in the eyes of Girty a satisfaction that he did notseek to conceal.
"It isn't so pleasant to be trussed up in that fashion, is it?" heasked.
Henry refused to answer.
Girty laughed again.
"You needn't speak unless you feel like it," he said. "I can do thetalking for both of us. You're tied up, it's true, but you're treatedbetter than most prisoners. I've been hearing a good deal about you. Aparticular friend of yours, one Braxton Wyatt, a most promising lad, hastold me a lot of stories in which you have a part."
"I know Braxton Wyatt very well," said Henry, "and I'm glad to say thatI've helped to defeat some of his designs. He has a great ambition."
"What is that?" asked Girty.
"To become as bad a man as you are."
But Girty was not taken aback at all. His lips twisted into a peculiargrin of cruel satisfaction.
"They do fear me," he said, "and they'll fear me more before long. I'vejoined the Indians, I like them and their ways, and I'm going to makemyself a great man among them."
"At the expense of your own kind?"
"Of course. What is that to me. I'm going to get all the tribestogether, and sweep the whites out of the Ohio Valley forever."
"I've heard that these same Indians with whom you're so thick burnedyour step-father at the stake?" said Henry.
"That's true," replied the renegade without the slightest feeling. "Thatwas when I was a little child, and they captured our family. But theydidn't burn me. So what have I to complain of?"
Henry could not repress a shudder, but Girty remained as cool as ice.
"Why shouldn't I be a great man among the Indians?" he said. "I know thetricks of both white and red now. The Continentals, as they callthemselves--rebels I call them--held McKee, Eliot and myself prisonersat Fort Pitt, the place they call Pittsburgh, but we escaped and here weare. We've been joined by Blackstaffe, Quarles, and the boy, BraxtonWyatt. The Indians trust us and listen to us; we're going to draw allthe valley Indians together--Shawnees, Miamis, Wyandots, Ottawas,Delawares and Illinois--and we'll light such a flame on both sides ofthe river that no white man will ever be able to put it out."
"You've got to reckon with some brave men first," said Henry.
"Yes, I know that the settlers have good woodsmen, Boone andKenton--Simon Kenton was my comrade once--but they are too few, and asfor this expedition to which you belonged, that is coming up the river,we're going to cut that off, too, not only because we'll be glad to wipeout those people, but because we want the rifles, the ammunition, thestores, and, above all, the cannon that your fleet carries. What willthe wooden walls in Kentucky be to us when we get those big guns?"
"When you get them!" said Henry defiantly. This man inspired increasinghorror and repulsion. The exulting way in which he talked of destroyinghis own people would have been incredible, had Henry merely heard of itfrom others. But the man was here before his face, glorying in the deedsthat he expected to commit.
"Oh, we'll get them," said Girty confidently. "You think you can help tokeep us from it, but you won't be there when it's done. Two things aregoing to be offered to you, and you'll have to choose between them."
"What are they?" asked Henry, who had resumed his calm, at least, so faras looks went.
"It's what I mainly came here to talk to you about. Timmendiquas isyoung, but he's a mighty man among the Wyandots. All the older chiefsare willing to step aside in his favor, and when men do that withoutbeing made to do it, there's something great in the one that's favored,something that everybody is bound to see. He's first among the Wyandots,and you know what that means when I tell you that the last of theWyandots are as good as the first of most people."
"Why do you talk to me about Timmendiquas?" asked Henry. "I've seen him,I've been with him for days, I know what he is."
"I'm coming to it. Timmendiquas likes you. He thinks you're fitted forthe forest and a life like the one he leads. Other Wyandots who haveobserved you agree with him, and to tell you the truth I think so, too,myself."
"Well!" said Henry. He now divined what Girty was going to reveal, buthe wished the renegade to tell it himself.
"Timmendiquas will be in the council house several days longer,purifying himself, but when he does come out, they'll say to you: 'Be aWyandot or die.' They'll put it to you plain, just as it has been put towhite men before you."
Henry stirred a little. Certainly he did not wish to die, nor did heexpect to die, but he would risk the alternative.
"Girty," he said, slowly, "an offer something like this was made to meonce before. It was made by a Spaniard far down in the south. You neverknew him--he's dead now--but your friend, Braxton Wyatt did--but theother thing wasn't death, nor did he ask me, if I took his offer, tomake war upon the settlements in Kentucky. Before I'd turn Indian likeyou and Braxton Wyatt and the others, and murder my own people, youinfamous renegade, I'd be torn to pieces or burned at the stake a dozentimes over!"
The words were hurled out by passion and feeling as the flash of powdersends forth the bullet. The renegade shrank back, and rose to his feet,his eyes aflame, but in a moment or two he sank down again, laughing alittle.
"That's what I knew you'd say," he said, "and I came here to hear yousay it. I wanted to force the hand of Timmendiquas, and I've done it. Idon't want you to join us, and I'll tell you why. I intend to be firsthere, first among the white leaders of the Indians, but if you were tocome with us you'd be first yourself in three or four years, and I'd beonly second. See how much I think of your powers."
"I don't thank you for your compliment," said Henry boldly, "but I'llthank you if you'll get out of this lodge. I think you're the worst manI've ever seen."
Simon Girty frowned again, and raised his hand as if to strike the boundyouth, but refrained.
"We don't see things alike," he said, and abruptly left the lodge.
Henry felt hi
s evil presence long after he had gone, as if some foulanimal had entered the lodge, and presently, when old Heno came, heasked him as a great favor to leave the door open for a while. When thecool, fresh air rushed in he breathed it in great draughts and feltrelieved. He admired Timmendiquas. He respected the Wyandots. He couldnot blame the Indian who fought for his hunting grounds, but, with allthe strength of his strong nature, he despised and hated every renegade.
That evening, after old Heno had gone, he sought for the first time toslip or break his bonds. He wanted to get away. He wanted to rejoin hiscomrades and the fleet. He wanted to help them prepare for the newdangers. But strain as he might with all his great strength, and twistas he would with all his ingenuity, he could not get free. He gave it upafter a while and lay on his rush mat in a state of deep depression. Itseemed that the Wyandots, cunning and agile, flower of the red men,would give him no chance.
He had asked Heno to leave the door of the lodge partly open a whilelonger that he might have plenty of fresh air, and the old warrior haddone so. He heard faint noises from the village, but bye and bye theyceased, and Henry at last fell asleep.
Deep in the night he heard a musical sound, a small note but clear andsweet. It reached him easily, although it seemed to come from the forestfour or five hundred yards away, and it spoke in almost audible tones,telling him to be of good faith, that what he wished would come to pass.It was the wind among the leaves again, something mystical but almosthuman to him. It was the third time that it had sung to him, once inwarning, twice in hope, and the depression that he had felt when he laiddown vanished utterly. A deep sense of peace and content pervaded hiswhole being. It was a peace of the senses and mind alike, driving awayall trouble either for the present or the future.
He was called to deeper rest. The voice of the forest still sang to him,becoming softer and softer and fainter and fainter, and the feeling ofabsolute content was overwhelming. He did not seek to move, butpermitted himself, as if under an opiate, to drift away into a farslumberland, while the note from the forest sank to nothing.
When he awoke the next morning he did not know whether he had reallyheard or had merely dreamed.