THE WYANDOT COUNCIL
Henry and his comrades, spying anew from the woods and seeing the
village full of stir, thought Timmendiquas and his warriors would depart
that day, but they soon gathered that some important ceremonial was at
hand, and would be celebrated first. It reminded Henry of the great
gathering of the Iroquois before the advance on Wyoming. He was as eager
now as then to enter the village and see the rites, which it was quite
evident were going to be held at night. Already the dangers of his
adventure with the seven heralds were forgotten and he was ready for new
risks.
"If I only had a little paint for my face and body," he said, "I could
go into the place without much danger, and I'd learn a lot that would be
of use to us."
No one answered, but Shif'less Sol, who had been listening attentively,
stole away. The sun was then about an hour high, and, a little after
twilight, the shiftless one returned with a package wrapped in a piece
of deerskin. He held it aloft, and his face was triumphant.
"What have you been doing, Sol?" exclaimed Henry.
"Me? I've been stealin'. An' I tell you I've been a good thief, too, fur
a lazy man. You said you wanted paint, Henry. Well, here it is an' the
little brushes an' feathers with which you put it on, too. The people
are all driftin' toward the center o' the village, an' without any
partic'lar trouble to myself or anybody else I entered an outlyin'--an'
fur the time empty--lodge an' took away this vallyble paintin' outfit."
"Good," said Henry with delight. "Now you shall paint me, Sol, and in an
hour I'll be among the Wyandots. Let's see the paint."
But Shif'less Sol firmly retained his precious package.
"Takin's are keepings," he said. "These paints are mine, an' I 'low you
to make use o' them on one condition only."
"What is that?"
"When I paint you, you paint me, an' then we'll go into this mighty
Injun metropolis together. Mebbe you'll need me, Henry, an' I'm goin'
with you anyway. You've got to agree to it."
Henry and the shiftless one looked each other squarely in the face.
Henry read resolve, and also an anxious affection in the gaze of his
comrade.
"All right, Sol," he said, "it's agreed. Now let's see which is the
better painter."
While the others stood by and gave advice Sol painted Henry. The great
youth bared himself to the skin, and Sol, with a deft hand, laid on the
Wyandot colors over chest, shoulders, arms, face and hands. Then Henry
painted the shiftless one in the same fashion. They also, but with more
difficulty, colored their hair black. It was artistic work, and when all
was done the two stood forth in the perfect likeness of two splendid
Wyandot warriors.
"I think," said Henry, "that if we keep away from Timmendiquas, Wyatt,
Girty and those who know us so well, nobody will suspect us."
"But don't run any unnecessary risks," said Paul anxiously. "You know
how hard it will be on us waiting out here in the woods, an' if you were
captured it's not likely we could save you."
"We'll take every precaution, Paul," said Henry, "and we'll rejoin you
here in the morning."
"All right," said Paul, "we'll wait at this point."
They were in an exceedingly dense part of the forest about two miles
from the Indian village, and Tom Ross, the phlegmatic, was already
selecting a place for his blanket. The moon was not yet out and the
light over the forest was dim, but Paul, Long Jim and Silent Tom could
see very distinctly the two magnificent young Wyandots who stood near
them, bare to the waist, painted wondrously and armed with rifle,
tomahawk and knife.
"Henry," said Long Jim, "ef I didn't see your face I could swear that
you wuz Timmendiquas his very self. I see Timmendiquas--his shoulders
an' the way he carries himself."
"An' I guess you see somethin' gran' an' wonderful in me, too, don't
you, Saplin'?" said Shif'less Sol in his most ingratiating tone.
Long Jim gazed at him in his most scornful manner, before he deigned to
reply.
"No, I don't see no great chief in you, Sol Hyde," he replied. "I see
nothin' but an ornery Wyandot, who's so lazy he has to be fed by squaws,
an' who ef he saw a white man would run so fast he'd never stop until he
hit Lake Superior an' got beyond his depth."
Shif'less Sol laughed and held out his hand.
"Put 'er thar," he said. "You wouldn't abuse me ef you didn't like me,
an' ef I never come back I guess a tear or two would run down that brown
face o' yours."
Long Jim returned in kind the iron grasp of his friend.
"Them words o' yours is mighty near to the truth," he said.
Both Henry and Sol said all their good-byes, and then they slid away
through the thickets toward the town. As they came to its edge they saw
a multitude of lights, fires burning here and there, and many torches
held aloft by women and children. There was also the chatter of hundreds
of voices, melting into a pleasant river of sound and the two, not even
finding the Indian dogs suspicious, advanced boldly across the maize
fields. Henry, remembering his size, which was the chief danger, now
stooped and held himself in a shrunken position as much as possible.
Thus they came to the town, and they saw that all its inhabitants were
converging upon the common in the center.
Both Henry and Sol looked anxiously at the village, which was of a
permanent character, containing both single and communal wigwams. The
permanent wigwams were of an oblong form, built of poles interwoven with
bark. Many were, as Shif'less Sol called them, double-barreled--that is,
in two sections, a family to each section, but with a common hall in
which the fire was built, each family sitting on its side of the fire.
But all these were empty now, as men, women and children had gone to the
open space in the center of the village. The communal lodges were much
larger, often holding six or seven families, but with entirely distinct
partitions for every family. Here in the woods was a rude germ of the
modern apartment house.
Henry and Sol drew near to the common, keeping concealed within the
shadow of the lodges. The open space was blazing with light from big
fires and many squaws carried torches also. Within this space were
grouped the guests of the Wyandots, the Shawnees and the Miamis, with
their chiefs at their head. They were painted heavily, and were in the
finest attire of the savage, embroidered leggings and moccasins, and red
or blue blankets. From every head rose a bright feather twined in the
defiant scalp lock. But the Shawnees and Miamis stood motionless, every
man resting the stock of his rifle upon the ground and his hands upon
the muzzle. They were guests. They were not to take any part in the
ceremony, but they were deeply interested in the great rites of an
allied and friendly nation, the great little tribe of the Wyandots, the
woman-ruled nation, terrible in battle, the bravest of the brave the
finest savage fighters the North American continent ever produced, the
Mohawks not excepted. And the fact remains that they were ruled by
women.
The Wyandot warriors had not yet entered the open, which was a great
circular grassy space. But as Henry and Shif'less Sol leaned in the
shadow of a lodge, a tall warrior painted in many colors came forth into
the light of the fires, and uttered a loud cry, which he repeated twice
at short intervals. Meanwhile the torches among the women and children
had ceased to waver, and the Shawnees and Miamis stood immovable, their
hands resting on the muzzles of their rifles. The great fires blazed up,
and cast a deep red light over the whole scene. A minute or so elapsed
after the last cry, and Henry and Shif'less Sol noticed the expectant
hush.
Then at the far side of the circle appeared the Wyandot warriors, six
abreast coming between the lodges. They were naked except for the breech
cloth and moccasins, but their bodies were gorgeously painted in many
colors. Mighty men were they. Few among them were less than six feet in
height, and all were splendidly built for strength, skill and endurance.
They held their heads high, too, and their eyes flashed with the haughty
pride of those who considered themselves first. Not in vain were the
woman-ruled Wyandots the bravest of the brave.
The Wyandot people advanced and waited on the outer rim of the circle in
the order of their gentes or clans. Their rank like that of all the
leading North American tribes was perfect and was never violated. There
were eleven clans with the following names in their language: The Bear,
the Deer, the Highland Striped Turtle, the Highland Black Turtle, the
Mud Turtle, the Large Smooth Turtle, the Hawk, the Beaver, the Wolf, the
Snake, and the Porcupine. The rank of the sachem of the nation was
inherent in the clan of the Bear, and the rank of military chief had
always belonged hitherto to the clan of the Porcupine, but now the right
was about to be waived and for an ample reason.
The Wyandot warriors continued to march steadily into the circle until
all were there, and then a deep murmur of approval came from the
watching Shawnees and Miamis.
The flower of the Wyandot nation here in its own home was all that
wilderness fame had made it. At the head of the first clan, that of the
Bear, stood Timmendiquas, and Henry and Shif'less Sol had never seen him
appear more commanding. Many tall men were there, but he over-topped
them all, and his eyes shone with a deep, bright light, half triumph and
half expectancy.
Now all the Wyandots were within the circle, standing as they always
camped when on the war path or the hunt. They were arranged in the form
of a horseshoe. The head was on the left and the clans ran to the right
in this way: The Bear, the Deer, the Highland Striped Turtle, the
Highland Black Turtle, the Mud Turtle, the Large Smooth Turtle, the
Hawk, the Beaver, the Wolf, the Snake and the Porcupine. These clans
were also incorporated into four phratries, or larger divisions. The
first phratry included the Bear, the Deer, and the Highland Striped
Turtle; the second, the Highland Black Turtle, the Mud Turtle, and the
Large Smooth Turtle; the third, the Hawk, the Beaver, and the Wolf, and
the fourth, the Snake, and the Porcupine.
Every clan was ruled by a council of five, and of those five, four were
women. The fifth, the man, was chosen by the four women from the men of
their clan. The four women of the Board of Council had been selected
previously by the married women or heads of families of the clans. The
wife, not the husband, was the head of the family, nor did he own
anything in their home except his clothes and weapons. He was merely a
hunter and warrior. All property and rank descended through the female
line. The lands of the village which were communal were partitioned for
cultivation by the women. The clan council of five was called the
Zu-wai-yu-wa, and the lone man was always deferential in the presence of
the four women who had elected him. The men councilors, however, had
some privilege. When it became necessary to choose the Grand Sachem of
the whole nation, they alone did it. But they were compelled to heed the
voices of the women who constituted the whole voting population, and who
also owned all the property. There was, too, a separate military council
of men who chose the military chief. Every clan had a distinctive way of
painting the face, and the four women councilors and their man comrade
wore on state occasions distinctive chaplets of wild flowers, leaves and
grass.
Much of this lore Henry and Shif'less Sol knew already and more they
learned later. Now as they watched the impressive ceremonies they often
divined what was to come.
After the horseshoe was formed, forty-four women and eleven men in a
compact body advanced to the inside of the circle. The women were mostly
middle-aged, and they were better looking than the women of other
tribes. Seen in the firelight they had primitive dignity and a
wilderness majesty, that was brightened by the savage richness of their
dress. They wore their hair in long dark braids, adorned by shells and
small red and blue feathers. Their tunics, which fell nearly to the
knee, were made of the finest dressed deerskin, fastened at the waist
with belts of the same material, dyed red or blue. As they watched, the
little beads on their leggings and moccasins tinkled and gave forth the
colors of the firelight. The expression of all was one of great gravity
and dignity. Here was the real senatorial body of the nation. Though
they might not fight nor lead in war, they were the lawmakers of the
Wyandots. Great deference was paid to them as they passed.
Henry and Shif'less Sol, flattened in the dark against the side of a
tepee, watched everything with eager interest. Henry, a keen observer
and quick to draw inferences, had seen other but somewhat similar
ceremonies among the Iroquois. Women had taken a part there also and
some of them had the rank of chieftainess, but they were not predominant
as they were among the Wyandots.
The council of the eleven clans stopped in the center of the circle, and
a silence, broken only by the crackling of the fires and the sputtering
of the torches, came once more over the great assembly. But a thousand
eager faces were turned toward them. The Shawnees and Miamis apparently
had not yet moved, still standing in rows, every face an impenetrable
bronze mask.
The tall warrior of the clan of the Wolf who had made the signal for the
ceremony now came forward again. His name was Atuetes (Long Claws) and
he was at once the herald and sheriff of the nation. He superintended
the erection of the Council House, and had charge of it afterwards. He
called the council which met regularly on the night of the full moon,
and at such other times as the Grand Sachem might direct. The present
was an unusual meeting summoned for an unusual purpose, and owing to the
uncommon interest in it, it was held in the open instead of in the
Council House.
Timmendiquas, already by common consent and in action the Grand Sachem
of the Wyandots, was now about to be formally invested with the double
power of Grand Sachem and military chief. The clan of the Porcupine in
which the military chieftainship was hereditary had willingly yielded it
to Timmendiquas, whose surpassing fitness to meet the coming of the
white man was so obvious to everybody.
Atuetes, the herald, advanced to the very center of the ring and shouted
three times in loud, piercing tones:
"Timmendiquas! Timmendiquas! Timmendiquas!"
Then the whole nation, with their guests the Shawnees and Miamis,
uttered the name in one great cry. After that the deep breathless
silence came again and the eager brown faces were bent yet further
forward. Timmendiquas standing motionless hitherto at the head of his
clan, the Bear, now walked forth alone. The shout suddenly rose again,
and then died as quickly as before.
Timmendiquas had thrown aside his magnificent blue blanket, and he stood
bare to the waist. The totem of the bear tattooed upon his chest shone
in the firelight. His figure seemed to grow in height and to broaden.
Never before in all the history and legends of the Wyandots had so
mighty an honor been conferred upon so young a warrior. It was all the
more amazing because his predominance was so great that none challenged
it, and other great warriors were there.
Among the famous chiefs who stood with the councilors or the clan were
Dewatire (Lean Deer), Shayantsawat (Hard Skull), Harouyu (The Prowler),
Tucae (Slow Walker), and Tadino (Always Hungry).
Timmendiquas continued to walk slowly forward to the point, where the
long row of the chieftainesses stood. He would not have been human had
he not felt exaltation, and an immense pride as he faced the women, with
the hundreds and hundreds of admiring eyes looking on. He came presently
within a few feet of them and stopped. Then Ayajinta (Spotted Fawn), the
tallest and most majestic of the women, stepped forward, holding in both
hands a woven chaplet of flowers and grass. The entire circle was now
lighted brilliantly by the fires and torches, and Henry and Shif'less
Sol, although at a distance, saw well.
Ayajinta, holding the chaplet in her outstretched hands, stood directly
before Timmendiquas. She was a tall woman, but the chief towered nearly
a head above her. Nevertheless her dignity was the equal of his and
there was also much admiration in her looks.
"Timmendiquas," she said, in tones so clearly that everyone could hear,
"you have proved yourself both a great chief and a mighty warrior. For
many moons now you have led the Wyandots on the war trail, and you have
also been first among them in the Council House. You have gone with our
warriors far toward the rising sun and by the side of the great kindred
nation, the Iroquois, you have fought with your warriors against the
Long Knives. After victory the Iroquois have seen their houses
destroyed, but you and your warriors fought valiantly to defend them.
"We, the women of the Wyandots, chosen to the council by the other
women, the heads of the families, look upon you and admire you for your
strength, your courage and your wisdom. Seldom does Manitou give so much
to a single warrior, and, when he does give, then it is not so much for
him as it is for the sake of his tribe."
Ayajinta paused and the multitude uttered a deep "Hah!" which signified
interest and approval. But Timmendiquas stood upright, unchanging eyes
looking at her from the impenetrable brown mask.
"So," she said, "O Timmendiquas, thou hast been chosen Grand Sachem of
the Wyandots, and also the leader of the war chiefs. We give you the
double crown. Wear it for your own glory, and yet more for the glory of
the Wyandot nation."
Timmendiquas bent his lofty head and she put upon it the great flowery
crown. Then as he raised his crowned head and looked proudly around the
circle, a tremendous shout burst from the multitude. Once more they
cried:
"Timmendiquas! Timmendiquas! Timmendiquas!"
Before the third utterance of the name had died, fifty young girls, the
fairest of the tribe, dressed in tanned deerskin adorned with beads and
feathers, streamed into the inner circle and began to dance before the
great chief. Meanwhile they sang:--
Behold the great Timmendiquas!
Mightiest of great chiefs,
Wisest of all in council,
He leads the warriors to battle,
He teaches the old men wisdom,
Timmendiquas, first of men.
Behold the great Timmendiquas!
As strong as the oak on the mountain,
As cunning as the wolf of the valley,
He has fought beside the great Iroquois,
The Yengees flee at the sound of his name,
Timmendiquas, first of men.
Then they joined hands and circled about him to a tune played by four
men on whistles, made from the bones of eagles. The song died, and the
girls flitted away so quickly through the outer ring that they were gone
like shadows.
Responsive as they were to wilderness life, the scene was making a
mighty impression upon Henry and Shif'less Sol. With the firelight about
him and the moonlight above him, the figure of Timmendiquas was
magnified in every way. Recognized long since as the most redoubtable of
red champions, he showed himself more formidable than ever.
The crowd slowly dispersed, but Atuetes of the clan of the Hawk called a
military council in the Council House. Timmendiquas, as became his rank,
led the way, and the renegades, Simon Girty, Braxton Wyatt, and Moses
Blackstaffe were admitted. Inside the Council House, which was hung with
skins and which much resembled those of the Iroquois, the chiefs, after
being called to order by Atuetes, the herald and sheriff, sat down in a
circle, with Timmendiquas a little further forward than the others.
Atuetes took a great trumpet-shaped pipe, lighted it with a coal that
was burning in a small fire in a corner, and inhaled two whiffs of
smoke. He breathed out the first whiff toward the heavens and the second
toward the earth. He handed the pipe to Timmendiquas, who inhaled the
smoke until his mouth was filled. Then, turning from left to right, he
slowly puffed out the smoke over the heads of all the chiefs. When the
circle was complete, he handed the pipe to the next chief on his left,
who puffed out the smoke in the same manner. This was done gravely and
in turn by every chief. Then the Grand Sachem, Timmendiquas, announced
the great military subject for which they were called together, and they
proceeded to discuss it.