I looked from one to the other with astonishment; but 'twas the
governor who intervened.
"Your pardon, Peter," he said good-humoredly enough, "but that letter
happens to deal with a most confidential subject."
"Oh, _ja_," said Corlaer indifferently. "But I do not readt."
"Take the letter, Ga-en-gwa-ra-go," said the Indian. "Ta-wan-ne-ars
does not seek your secrets. But you need have no fears. This young
Englishman is Ta-wan-ne-ars' friend."
"How! What is that?" exclaimed the governor, much perplexed. "You
know Master Ormerod?"
"Ta-wan-ne-ars knows not the Englishman's name," replied the Indian
with his grave smile; "but he knows the Englishman's heart."
And in his sonorous English, with a slightly guttural intonation, he
recounted how I had rescued him from his childish persecutors.
The incident recalled my promise, and I broke in impetuously upon his
closing words.
"Aye, your Excellency, but he hath forgotten to add that I pledged
myself to beseech you to make it illegal to mock at Indians in the
city streets."
"An excellent thought," approved Colden. "We have trouble enough
winning the friendship of the tribes without subjecting the visiting
chiefs to humiliation in our midst."
"It shall be done at once," declared the governor.
He drew forward a fresh sheet of paper and hurriedly scrawled upon it
the necessary instructions, then rang a bell and to the negro who
answered said:
"Zach, do you carry this at once to Rollins the Bellman and bid him
proclaim it through the streets at dusk upon his lights-round, and
also at every general proclamation."
He returned his attention to the Indian.
"Ta-wan-ne-ars," he continued, "I need your friendship. I need the
friendship of every one of your people for our King."
"Why," interposed the Indian, "has Go-weh-go-wa[1] become involved in
war with some other king?"
[1] Literally, the Great Crown--Indian name for British ruler.
"Not in a war with knife and tomahawk," answered the governor, "but
in a secret struggle, wherein some of his own subjects are
endeavoring to stab him in the back."
The Seneca drew himself erect.
"Ta-wan-ne-ars is your friend, Ga-en-gwa-ra-go. He is not the friend
of Onontio[2] who rules at Quebec. Most of the white people are not
well-wishers to the Indian, but you are of those we count our
friends. I am come here with Corlaer to prove my friendship."
[2] The French Governor General of Canada, regardless of identity.
"How is that?" asked the governor with interest.
Colden and I leaned forward. Corlaer stood by the table in precisely
the same position he had assumed when he gave the letter to the
Indian. He had not moved a muscle. In his face only his little
eyes, behind their ramparts of flesh, stirred with the animation of
life.
"On the frontier 'tis said that Joncaire, the Frenchman who governs
the trading-post by the Falls of Jagara,[3] is about to begin the
building of a stone fort."
[3] Niagara.
"A fort!" protested the governor. "Sure, 'tis impossible! 'Twould
be a direct violation of the Peace of Utrecht."
"Why, we are still in negotiation with Paris over Joncaire's defiance
of the treaty in establishing a trading-post upon ground allotted to
us," cried Colden.
"Idt is true," spoke up Corlaer.
His voice was high and squeaky, and sounded ridiculous coming from
such a giant.
"Hath the building begun?" demanded the governor.
"I think nodt. Ta-wan-ne-ars broughdt me der wordt at Onondaga. We
comedt to you as fast as we couldt."
"Ta-wan-ne-ars came because it was partly the fault of his people
that the French are settled by Jagara," said the Indian.
"Yes," replied the governor. "Onontio and Joncaire first made the
Oneidas drunk, and then bargained with them to sell the Senecas'
land."
"They had no right to do so," assented Ta-wan-ne-ars somberly. "But
now will you believe that Ta-wan-ne-ars is your friend?"
"I believe," said the governor. "But I pray you tell me why you feel
for us this friendship! When I came to New York to govern the
province my predecessor told me that the experiment of having you
educated by the missionaries had failed, that you had returned to the
forest, closer wedded than ever to Indian ways."
The Indian's face lighted up again with that grave smile which showed
itself with scarcely a contraction of the muscles.
"Yes, Ga-en-gwa-ra-go, it failed to win Ta-wan-ne-ars from the ways
of his people. Those ways are best for the Indian. You can not take
a people like mine, who have lived in the wilderness as long as they
can remember, and remake them in a few years so that they can live
like white men.
"Once, your histories say, your people lived like mine. Well, I
think it will take as long to bring the red man to your present ways
as it has taken yourselves to reach them.
"But Ta-wan-ne-ars learned that of the two white races the English
were the kindest to the Ho-de-no-sau-nee.[4] The French always have
persecuted us. They try by most subtle means to convert us to their
religion, which is not any better than our own religion. The English
come to us bluntly and say, 'Be Christians,' and if we do not wish to
be they let us alone.
[4] The people of the Long House--Indian name for Iroquois.
"The French always have fought with us. The English have aided us.
The French pay little for our furs; the English pay much.
"Ga-en-gwa-ra-go, I think the white man can never be an honest friend
to the Indian, for he wants what the Indian has; but Ta-wan-ne-ars
prefers the Englishman to the Frenchman, whatever may be the issue.
"_Na-ho!_"[5]
[5] "I have finished."
I can give no adequate conception of the impressiveness with which
this speech was delivered by a savage speaking in a tongue strange to
him. Every word rang in my ears.
"Who is this man?" I whispered to Colden as he finished.
"He is one of the two war-chiefs of the Iroquois League, both of whom
are Senecas. His name, which signifies 'Needle-Breaker,' is actually
a form of title which goes with the office. Moreover, he is nephew
to the Roy-an-eh Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, who is Guardian of the Western Door
of the Long House."
"He is what is called a sachem?" I asked curiously.
"There is no such title in use amongst the People of the Long House,"
replied the learned surveyor-general. "'Tis an Algonquin word, I
believe. The Iroquois equivalent is _roy-an-eh_, the title I gave to
the uncle of Ta-wan-ne-ars.
"But our friend here has no such rank. The _roy-an-ehs_ are
hereditary nobles, the title descending by the female line and
generally from uncle to nephew. 'Tis quite possible, of course, that
Ta-wan-ne-ars will succeed his uncle in due course. Indeed, the fact
that he hath been named principal war-chief of the League, with the
charge of guarding the Western Door, would almost indicate as much.
"He was taken as a youth and given to the missionaries--with the
result that you see."
He broke off, for the governor was addressing me.
"Have you any objection, Master Ormerod, to my acquainting the chief
and Corlaer with what we have been discussing?"