CHAPTER XXVII
It was a sad and weary day to poor Walter Prevost, for he was withoutconsolation. The time of his long imprisonment, indeed, had been lessburdensome than might have been supposed, although during the firsttwo or three weeks many a fruitless effort to escape had wearied hisspirit. He learned, however, that it was impossible; he was tooclosely and too continually watched. There was nothing to prevent hisquitting the hut; but the moment he did so, whether by night or day,he was met by two or three armed Indians. They were kind and courteousto him, though they suffered him not to bend his steps in thedirection of their Castle or village, nor to approach the lake, to thebanks of which many a canoe was moored. Sometimes one of them wouldtake him to hunt; but two or three others followed, and neverseparated from his side. They were not fond of speaking of hisprobable fate and situation, and generally avoided the subject withtrue Indian skill. But once a young warrior, less experienced than therest, related to him the messages which the great chief had sent bythe runner Proctor; and Walter learned the decision regarding his ownfate, and the chances on which it hung. But that young Indian wasnever seen near him more, and it was evident that he was looked uponas having betrayed counsel, and had been removed. But about that timethe greatest solace and balm he could receive was afforded him.Otaitsa suddenly appeared in the hut, and told him that by promisingto make no personal effort for his rescue, and to take no advantage ofthe freedom granted her to facilitate his escape by her own efforts,she had obtained permission to visit him two hours each day. She hadexplained to him, however, that others, in whom she trusted, were busyin his cause, and that the Gray Dove herself, on whom all her peoplelooked with the greatest reverence, had positively assured her heshould not die.
At first their interviews were sad enough. Hope and fear kept up theirbattle in the heart; but in time these emotions passed away, and loveand happiness were all that remained; or, if aught of fear mingledwith those blessings, it was but enough, as it were, to sanctify theirintercourse, to purify it of some portion of earthly passion; so that,while they sat twined in each other's arms, their conversation wouldoften be of death, and future life and happiness unmingled. She oftencalled him "husband" to her father, but it was always "brother" whenthey were alone.
Day after day, beneath the sunshine or the cloud, over the snow or thegreen earth, Otaitsa visited the hut; but she had grown anxious as thedays rolled on. She had not calculated the time accurately, but sheknew that the appointed day was near and Walter was not delivered. Sheaccused herself of folly in having trusted to others, though she sawnot how, watched as he was, his deliverance could be effected byherself. But she resolved now to bestir herself, and if she lost herlife in the attempt, to make one last great effort to set him free.
Such was her resolution on the preceding day, when, on parting withhim, she whispered in his ear, lest anyone should be listeningwithout: "I shall not come to you again, my brother, till I come tosave you. I know not how it will be, but if I fail, Walter will not belong in heaven ere Otaitsa seeks him there."
He hardly believed she could keep her resolution of abstaining from atleast one more interview; but the weary day passed by, the Indians whobrought him food and fire appeared and disappeared, the rain fellheavily, the wind shook the hut, and Otaitsa did not come.
At length the night began to fall, stern, gloomy, dark. A raylesssunset, a brief twilight, and then utter darkness. His spirit sank lowindeed; his heart felt heavy and oppressed. He bent him down, stirredup the embers of his fire, piled more wood upon it, and kindled abright, cheerful blaze. But it had no effect in raising his spirits,or warming his heart. All within him was cheerless. He sat and gazedinto the fire, and thought of his absent home, and of the pleasantdays of youth, and of the sweet dreams he had once cherished, thehopes that hung, like faded pictures, upon the wall of memory. Athousand little incidents, a thousand delightful recollections, cameback upon him as he sat and meditated, as if merely to make life moredear, when, suddenly, on the other side of the hut, a dark figurecrossed the firelight, and then another, and another, and another,till they numbered six. They were all chiefs and men of lofty mien,but stern, and grave, and silent. They seated themselves in asemi-circle, at the very farther end of the hut, and for severalminutes remained profoundly still.
He understood at once what it all meant; the last hour of life wascome, and the dead, heavy sinking of the heart which the aspect ofdeath suddenly presented to an unprepared and excited mind, was thefirst sensation. There the door stood, at a little distance on hisright hand, and they were at the other end of the hut, with no onebetween him and the means of egress; but he knew their swiftness offoot and deadly aim too well. It was better to stay and meet the worstthere, than to fall by the tomahawk in inglorious flight. He ralliedhis spirits, he called all his courage to his aid, he bethought him ofhow an Indian would die, and resolved to die boldly, and calmly,likewise.
Sitting still in silence, he gazed over the countenances of thechiefs, scanning their stern, hard features thoughtfully. There werebut two there whom he knew, Black Eagle himself, and an old man with awhite scalp-lock, whom he recollected having comforted and supportedonce, when he found him ill and exhausted near his father's house. Theothers were all strangers to him, and nothing could be read upon theirfaces but cold, rigid determination. There was no passion, no anger,no emotion to be traced in a single line; but there was somethinginexpressibly dreadful in gazing on those still, quiet countenances,with a knowledge of their bloody purpose. To have died in battle wouldhave been nothing--to have struggled with them fiercely for life; butto sit there, coldly awaiting the moment of the ruthless blow, and toknow that they expected it to be borne with the same quiet, stoicalapathy with which it was dealt, was very, very terrible to the youngEuropean. Yet Walter tried to nerve himself to the utmost against anysign of fear, and strove for resolution not to disgrace himself, hisname and family, even in the eyes of these wild Indians. There musthave been apprehension in his eyes--in the straining eagerness withwhich he scanned them, but there was no other mark of alarm; not amuscle moved; the lip did not quiver; the brow was not contracted.
At length, after that long, solemn pause, the voice of Black Eagle washeard, speaking low and softly: "My son, thou must die," he said."Thou art dear to me as a child; thy father is my brother; but thouhast drawn an evil lot, and thou must die. The morning of thy days hasbeen short and bright; the night comes for thee before the day is wellbegun. The blood of our brother who was slain must be atoned by theblood of one of the race that slew him--the white man for the redman.We have sought in vain for the murderer of our brother, or for someonewho might have been a substitute for him whom we love. Each man herewould have periled his own head to find another in thy place; but itcould not be. The palefaces took fright at the news of what has beendone, and none has been found within our territory. We know that theman who did the deed has been here. We fancied that he had comegenerously to pay the penalty of his own deed; but fear was in hisheart, and twice he escaped us. He is as cunning as the fox, and asswift to flee. Now, oh! thou son of my brother, thou must die, for thetime is gone by that was given thee in the hope of some deliverance.The hours have run swiftly and in vain, and the last has come. We knowthat it is the custom of thy people to sing no war song at theirdeath, but to pray to their Good Spirit to receive them speedily intothe happy hunting grounds. We shall not think it want of courage ifthou prayest, for the son of our brother Prevost will not disgrace hisname at his death. Pray, therefore, to thy God; thy prayer shall be,as it were, a war song, and, strengthened by it, thou shalt die as aman and a warrior."
Walter remained silent for a moment, while a terrible struggle went onin his breast; but resolution conquered, and he rose from the ground,on which he was sitting, erect and firm, and stretching forth hishand, he said: "Chiefs of the Oneidas, ye are unjust. At this hour ofmy death I tell you, ye know not equity. Your laws are not of the GoodSpirit, but of the bad; for it is evil to kill an innocent man, black
and dastardly to slay a helpless man, who trusted you and loved you;and if it is by your law you do it, your law is bad, and the GoodSpirit will condemn it. My father came and planted his tree amongstyou. We grew up, my sister and myself, loving and confiding in yourpeople. We made your tongue our tongue, and my heart became one withthe heart of the daughter of your chief. Lo! now, how ye repaykindness, and love, and truth!--with falsehood, cruelty, and death! Yeare great warriors, but ye are not good men. In this last hour Ireproach you, and I tell you with the voice of a dying man, as withthe voice of one from the land of spirits, that, sooner or later, thegreat God of all men will make you feel that you have done an evilthing in my death----"
He paused suddenly, for his eye--turned somewhat in the direction ofthe door--saw a female figure enter, wrapped in the peculiar blanketor mantle of the Indian women. Another and another appeared, and oneby one the shadowy forms ranged themselves in line along the side ofthe hut, their faces but faintly seen by the flickering firelight.They were all as silent as death, and there they stood, as silentwitnesses of the dreadful scene about to be enacted.
The eyes of all the chiefs were turned in the same direction as hisown, and a moment or two of wonder and embarrassment passed; but thenthe voice of Black Eagle was raised, loudly and sternly, saying: "Getye home to the Castle, Oneida women! This is no place for you. Meddlenot with the business of warriors and of men!"
"Who is it that speaks?" said the clear, shrill voice of the GrayDove. "Is it the man of the black heart, who slays the son of hisbrother? Who is it that dares to speak thus to her who sees the GreatSpirit in her visions, and holds communion with the souls of the dead?Is it a man pure in heart and hand, a man whose purposes are good inthe sight of the Great Spirit, who is doing a deed pleasing in hissight? Is he taking the life of an enemy in the battle? Is he scalpinga foe with whom he has fought and conquered? Lo! now, this is a bravedeed, to slay the son of a friend, and a boy who has no power toresist. But the boy shall not die. If a paleface has killed one of thechildren of the Stone, this boy has saved the life of more than one.His hand has been free, and his heart open to the Oneida, and his gooddeeds are more than enough to atone for the evil deeds of another. Theashes of thy pipe, Black Eagle, upon the hearth of Prevost, call outshame upon the murder of his son!"
"Get ye hence, women!" said another chief. "We are not soft as water,to be turned in what course ye will: we are the children of the Stone,and our heart is the rock."
"Be it so, then!" cried Black Eagle's sister. "Look upon us now, ohchiefs! We are here, your mothers, your sisters, your daughters, yourwives; those ye love best, those who best love you. See, now, what weare commanded to do by the voice of the Good Spirit. If ye slay theyouth, ye slay us. Every lodge shall be left desolate; there shall bewailing through the village and through the land. Now, my sisters, iftheir heart be a stone, let our heart be soft, and let the knife findit easily!"
As she spoke, every mantle was thrown back, and every arm was raised,and in every hand was seen the gleam of a knife.
Black Eagle covered his eyes with his mantle, but sat still. Waltersprang across and cast himself at the feet of Otaitsa, exclaiming:"Hold! hold! For God's sake, hold, my Blossom!"
"Back! back!" cried the girl, vehemently. "If thou diest, I die!"
"All! all!" said the women, in the same determined tone.
At the same moment the old priest rose and stretched forth his hands."It is the voice of the Great Spirit!" he exclaimed, in the tone ofone inspired. "He speaks to us by their tongue; he tells us toforbear! The deed is evil in his sight; we must not do it! The bloodof our brother is atoned--it is the voice of the Great Spirit!"
"It is the voice of the Great Spirit--it is the voice of the GreatSpirit!" exclaimed each of the chiefs, and Black Eagle, casting fromhim the tomahawk, took Walter in his arms, saying, in a low voice, "Myson! my son!"
Otaitsa took a step forward toward them, but before she reached herfather her sight grew dim and she fell at his feet.[3]