HATING, BUT WAITING
Ahneota was an Indian of superior intelligence and varied experience.
As the summer advanced, and the corn and tobacco which the squaws had
planted in the meadow put forth glossy leaves and promise of the
harvest, the boy's visits to the old chief became more interesting as
well as more frequent. Rodney recognized in him his only safety and
instinctively knew that the Indian liked him.
The more he learned of the aged man's wisdom and his kindness toward
the people of the village, the greater his wonder at the ferocious
expression in the face of this savage when persuaded to recount his
exploits. There could be no mistaking that this otherwise kindly old
man bore the whites a bitter hatred, though more tolerant of the
French than of the English.
In his youth Ahneota had been taught by a Jesuit missionary, indeed
had been regarded as a convert. He had retained, however, many of the
superstitions of the savage; believed in all sorts of evil as well as
good spirits, thought animals had spirit existence after death, had
faith in dreams, and, though he had little to do with the arts of the
"medicine man," so great was his dislike of Caughnega, Rodney became
convinced the chief also believed in them, to some extent, at least.
"The French," he said, "treat the Indian like a man who is weak; the
English treat him like a dog they despise. Both cheat him, but the
Englishman kicks him after he has robbed him, or kills him and takes
his scalp." He declared that the traders robbed the children of the
forest, and that every frontiersman wanted the Indians killed so as to
get the land. He had known of Indians being shot in time of peace by
trappers, who murdered them for their furs and took their scalps and
kept them so as to get bounty on them whenever there should be war
with the red men.
"But you would kill an innocent white woman and torture her children,
in revenge for the wickedness of the traders."
"Palefaces do not punish palefaces, but honour them for the bad deeds
done to the Indian, and must we suffer alone?"
"It's impossible for us to punish these traders for deeds we white
people know nothing about."
"Ugh!" and there was bitter scorn in the old savage's exclamation,
"you do not open your ears. The trader boasts and white men laugh."
Rodney felt there was much of truth in what the old savage said,
moreover he feared to excite him by further controversy, so to turn
the conversation he remarked, "You must have been with the French in
the great war?"
"Ahneota brought many scalps to the French," he replied, proudly.
"Frenchmen give us many presents for our furs. They do not steal our
land and drive away our game."
Reminded of those fearful scenes during the war, he stood erect and,
pointing his long arm toward the southeast, said, "Ahneota fought
Braddock. At Bushy Run his bullets made white men sleep, but Colonel
Bouquet was wise and fooled Indians. Ahneota go with Pontiac, and cut
off his gun so to hide it under his blanket and go inside Fort
Detroit. He was a chief at Bloody Run. The French promise much. They
make fool of Indian and tell him Great Father across big water had
slept, but was awake and would come and help his friends, the red men,
and bring beads and brandy and shining cloth."
"Do you think the Indians did right in pretending to be friends of the
English in order to kill them?"
"You think trader right when steal Indian's furs? Soldiers killed our
women and children. They scared away the game and we must starve. They
say they brothers of Indian; they lie. They make us old women so to
steal our land. They fool the Delawares. What does 'Little Knife' say
when they kill good Indians at Conestoga and make dogs of Moravians?
Ahneota declares paleface and Indian can never live together."
The hatred displayed in the face of the old savage was unmistakable,
yet the boy did not fear him.
"You must have seen Colonel Washington in the Braddock campaign?"
"I have seen him. The Great Spirit keeps him and turns the bullets
away from him."
"He is much respected in Virginia. He inherited a big estate, Mount
Vernon, with much land and many slaves."
"Like all palefaces he wants more. He sends men into the Indian
country to take more land."
"The Indian does not use the land as do the English. The Indians want
to roam and hunt over it. The white man works hard and builds a home
and lives on much less land than does the Indian."
"He scares away the game and the squaw and pappoose must cry in
hunger. The Great Spirit made this country for Indian and he must hold
it or follow the sun."
Rodney did not know but that he had said too much, yet he liked a good
argument and was curious to learn how the Indians felt and what they
believed. "Do the Indians want to dig up the tomahawk and make war on
the whites?"
"The young braves do, but Ahneota fought with Pontiac. No chief
was ever obeyed by so many Indians, by Ottawas, Wyandottes,
Pottawattomies, by the Ojibwas of the far north, all took the war
belt and made their faces black. Some day another great chief will
bring the war belt and the red men will follow where he may lead,
but he has not come. The signs are not right. Already the Great Father
of the English says to his children, 'I have made peace with much
wampum with the Father of the French. Give me wampum.' The children
grow angry; they kick away the peace belt and will not smoke the
pipe. Then the Indian will rise from the ground like the leaves in a
big wind and blow in their faces. When father and children quarrel,
the eagle comes down like fire from the sky, and the wolves howl in
the forest."
The boy sat looking into the wild face of the savage and shuddered. He
knew the Indian hated and waited, and, when the storm burst, he would
be like a wild beast.
Notwithstanding the bitter hostility displayed by the old man, his
counsel was for peace and it was evident he feared a conflict would be
precipitated before the Indians could be ready. He scowled at all
reports of disturbance. The capture of Rodney worried him. Whenever
the subject was mentioned he would say: "Shawnees. The spirit of evil
is upon the red man and the paleface."
One day the chief asked the boy if he knew Daniel Morgan, who lived at
Winchester, and from the Indian's manner of speaking it appeared he
had great respect for the man's fighting qualities. He told of an
attempt to ambush Morgan, in which he took part. They shot him, the
bullet entering the mouth and coming out on the left side, taking the
teeth along with it. Morgan was on horseback. He reeled in the saddle
but clung to the horse's mane and urged him forward. Ahneota ran after
him, thinking to seize the horse, as he was a swift runner. Failing in
this, he threw his tomahawk. He failed to hit Morgan, though his skill
at throwing the hatchet was great. He declared the evil spirit turned
the tomahawk aside that Morgan might live and persecute the Indians.
After the war, such was his curiosity, he visited Winchester to learn
more about Morgan, and told the boy many things, which the latter was
to recall.
A few days later Francois, who had brought "Maman" and Louis to the
village, came back to buy furs, offering in exchange blankets, knives
and hatchets, powder and ball, also he had several bottles of brandy.
The "fire-water" was, of course, the most attractive of his wares and
by afternoon several Indians were drunk, among them Ahneota. When
Rodney learned this his heart sank, for his old friend was helpless to
protect him. He looked for Caughnega and noticed that he was sober.
That fact indicated he intended mischief. Unless an Indian had a very
strong purpose in mind, he would not refuse liquor. Later, Caughnega
and Marie were seen talking together, and then the trader joined them.
Rodney was walking past, and when near them Caughnega noticed him and
made a signal to the others and they lowered their voices. Out in
front of the village the young braves had built a fire, and were
dancing around it and yelling like fiends.
"Do they intend to burn me?" was the question which arose in the boy's
mind.
"I'll die trying rather than waiting," said the boy to himself. He
hastened to his wigwam, and taking some dried meat and parched corn,
arming himself with knife and hatchet, also bow and arrows, he stole
unobserved out of the village and into the woods.
Most Indians of that day had become unaccustomed to the use of bow and
arrow, and were dependent on the whites to furnish them with guns and
ammunition. This was a fact which the old chief bemoaned. Rodney,
being deprived of the use of a rifle, shrewdly induced the old Indian
to show him how to make a bow and arrows and how to use them and he
already had acquired considerable skill.
A little distance away in the forest stood a large tree with a hollow
trunk, inside which a tall man might stand up straight, though the
opening was small. Once he and Louis had made a sort of perch in the
upper part to which a boy might crawl and be safe from observation,
unless one went to the trouble of crawling into the hollow and looking
up.
Rodney made his way to the tree as best he might in the gathering dusk
and hid himself on the perch. There he remained throughout the night,
with dismal thoughts for companions and the cries of the night hawk to
cheer him. Toward morning he fell asleep. He was awakened by a slight
noise and, looking down, saw the face of Caughnega peering in!
Fortunately for both, the savage did not see the perch and went away.
Later, Rodney, cramped and sore, crept out in quest of a drink of
water. On his return a sound inside attracted his notice and
listening, he heard sobbing. It was Louis. With a cry of joy the
little fellow threw himself into Rodney's arms, saying, "I thought you
had run away. Caughnega said you had. He was hunting for you last
night, and this morning I told him about this place but he came back
and said you were not here."
"Don't you ever tell him where I am when he's hunting for me. He hates
me and would like to kill me. But how came you here?"
"Maman was cross like a bear and Francois whipped me."
"And she let him do it?"
"Non, but she was so cross I wouldn't tell her. Francois was tipsy."
"The drunken dog! I'd like to horsewhip him. Well, you run back, and
when Ahneota is sober tell him I've not run away but will come back
when the carousal is ended. Don't say anything to any one else about
me. If Francois beats you again tell Maman."
Louis turned back toward the village and, at a turn in the path, met
the tipsy Francois. Rodney saw the meeting, and concealed himself
behind a tree.
The voyageur had no arms other than the knife in his belt. When he saw
Louis he cried, "_He bien! Tiens! prends cela_," slapping the little
fellow's face and knocking him down.
Seeing this Rodney was infuriated and forgot all caution. In a few
bounds he reached the voyageur and, as the latter turned, hit him a
stinging blow on the nose, following it with a well directed one on
the Frenchman's chin. The fellow went down like a log and Rodney on
top of him. He rolled the dazed man on to his face and bound his arms
behind his back with a leather thong he carried.
"I'll fix you if you ever strike Louis again. You get back to the
village and, if you want to live, you behave yourself."
Francois was a sorry sight with the blood streaming from his nose. He
was sobered and scared but he was to have revenge.
[Illustration: "HE ROLLED THE DAZED MAN ON TO HIS FACE AND BOUND HIS ARMS
BEHIND HIS BACK."]