"Very well."
He turned to the Indian.
"The letter which you hold in your hand, Ta-wan-ne-ars, is from
Master Robert Juggins, of London, who was some time in the province
when you were a lad."
"I remember Master Juggins," interrupted Ta-wan-ne-ars. "He sent me
my first musket. Is this Englishman his friend?"
"Yes," said the governor. "He comes direct from Master Juggins,
recommended to me for use in the plight I find myself in."
"I will help the Englishman," agreed Ta-wan-ne-ars eagerly.
He smiled at me.
"This Englishman is honest. He is kind. If he fights, I will aid
him."
"Do you see?" whispered Colden in my ear. "You have saved an Indian
from ridicule. In his estimation that is a greater service than
rescue from the stake."
"But you know nothing of the cause I am enlisting you in," protested
the governor.
"That matters little," said Ta-wan-ne-ars composedly. "If you and
this Englishman and Colden are in it, it is an honest cause. What
say you, Corlaer?"
"It vill pe goodt enough for me," declared the Dutchman solemnly.
The governor laughed.
"My friends and I do thank you for the compliment you do us,
Ta-wan-ne-ars. But I must lay our case before you, for we seek your
counsel. Do you know that Andrew Murray is landed today and that he
hath secured the consent of the Lords of Trade in London to the
suspension of our law against the exporting of trade-goods to Canada?"
Both the Indian and Corlaer were startled from their customary
stoical attitudes.
"Yes," continued the governor, "Murray landed this morning, together
with a French officer, the Chevalier de Veulle, who----"
He stopped at sight of the passion in the Seneca's face. But 'twas
Corlaer who spoke first.
"That is fery stranche news, gofenor, for on der frontier there is
talk that an enfoy is coming to deliver a message to der tribes at
Jagara from der King of France. Joncaire is calling a grandt council
to meetd in der Summer. All der Indians from beyondt der Lakes and
der West vill come."
"Strange news!" repeated the governor. "You may well say so! Murray
overrides our law; Joncaire sets out to build a stone fort upon our
soil at Jagara; the French King sends an officer, experienced on the
frontier, with a special message for a grand council of the tribes.
"All these three events come simultaneously. 'Tis impossible that
accident so disposed them. Here we have the first indication of the
culmination of the plot. Aye, 'tis graver than I had supposed."
Ta-wan-ne-ars laid down the unopened letter from Juggins upon the
table.
"Let some other read this," he said. "But it serves no purpose.
This Englishman and Ta-wan-ne-ars are brothers. Corlaer, too, will
take the Englishman into his friendship--not because he carried this
writing across the sea, but because he is a man to be trusted. So
much is to be read in his face. And now, Ga-en-gwa-ra-go, I would
ask that Ta-wan-ne-ars may retire. What you have told me has clouded
my heart with hatred, and I may not think straight."
His right arm swept up in the gesture of farewell, and the door
closed upon his bronzed back.
"What hath happened to irk him so?" inquired the governor in surprize.
"Idt was this de Veulle who ran away with der dotter of his uncle,
Do-ne-ho-ga-weh," replied Corlaer, stirred again from his habitual
silence.
"I remember," interposed Colden. "'Twas some four years ago. I
remember having seen the maid at a council at Albany. She was called
Ga-ha-no,[6] a pretty child and wondrous dainty for an Indian."
[6] Hanging Flower.
Corlaer seemed to ponder momentarily.
"I haf been many years with der Indians, gofenor; but nefer didt I
see redt people lofe as we do. They know not what passion is. But
Ta-wan-ne-ars was different. If he learnedt nothing else from her
missionaries he learnedt to lofe der white man's way."
"'Tis a sad story," commented the governor. "Is it certain de Veulle
took her?"
"He didt not take her. She ran away with him."
"The chief will not attempt to take revenge here?"
Corlaer smiled.
"He will wait many years, if he must, to refenge himself in his own
way."
"I wonder what became of her," I said. "'Tis only some three years
since de Veulle appeared in Paris."
Corlaer shrugged his shoulders.
"Suppose you findt der Doom Trail andt come to La Vierge du Bois.
Maybe then you know."
"That is exactly what we wish to do, Corlaer!" exclaimed the Governor.
"You don't want much, gofernor," replied the big man dryly.
"Do you think it can not be done?"
Corlaer reflected, ponderous as a sleepy moose.
"Idt has not been done."
"Does that necessarily mean it never will be done?"
"No, but----"
"But what?"
"It will take much time andt money--andt then all depends upon der
Indians."
"What Indians?"
The governor was extremely patient with the mental processes of the
frontiersman.
"Der Six Nations."
"Why do you specify them?"
Again Corlaer was buried in thought. And I saw that his eyes, which
ordinarily twinkled, now smoldered with a slow-burning fire.
"If we findt der Trail, gofernor, what then? We haf der Keepers.
They are a strong bandt. We must fight them. You can not sendt
soldiers. That wouldt be war. We must fight them with Indians.
Andt what Indians couldt you get but der Iroquois?"
"Can we get the Iroquois?"
"I do not know," confessed Corlaer. "But if you get them, you smash
der Trail."
"I see," said the governor. "Yes, there is every reason why the
Iroquois should join us. Look you, Corlaer, this is the obvious plan
of the French. With Murray's aid they will cram their magazines with
trade-goods this Summer. They will make an impressive showing for
the tribes that attend Joncaire's council. They will push ahead the
building of the fort at Jagara. Once that is finished, they will
have a curb on the necks of the Iroquois. They will be able to hold
up the fleets of fur canoes from the Upper Lakes that now pass down
to our post at Oswego on the Onondaga's River. In two seasons they
will have wrested the trade entirely from our hands, and then if they
are ready they can strike with musket and scalping-knife.
"And who, think you, will bear the brunt of the first blow? Who but
the Iroquois, whom the French have dreaded since Champlain's day?"
"True, only too true," murmured Colden.
"Yes," assented Corlaer; "you haf der right of it, gofernor. What is
your plan?"
"I shall send this young man"--he laid his hand on my arm--"with you
and Ta-wan-ne-ars to spy out the ground at Jagara, to search the
wilderness for signs of the Trail, to work upon the Iroquois in our
interest. Master Ormerod knows naught of forest warfare, but he hath
had experience with the French and he knows de Veulle of old."
"When do we start?" replied Corlaer simply.
"So soon as may be. I must see Ta-wan-ne-ars again and concert
certain matters with Master Ormerod. But within the week you must
leave for Albany. You need spare no expense, Peter. My own funds
are pledged to this, and Master Juggins, too, is offering his aid."
Corlaer deliberately donned his cap of fur.
"It will not be money, but friendship andt hate will serfe your turn,
gofernor," he said.
"You have not yet read the letter from Juggins," I reminded him as he
walked toward the door.
"So I haf not," he admitted, and took the letter from me and slipped
it inside his leather shirt.
"Will you have it read?" asked Colden.
"No, der young man is all right. Ta-wan-ne-ars has chudged him."
With that he was gone, and a sense of bewilderment stole over me. It
seemed incredible that either of the two odd characters of the
wilderness with whom I had talked could really have existed.
But Governor Burnet lost no time in doubts. He paced the room,
rubbing his hands together with satisfaction.
"We have done well, Colden. We could not have done better. Master
Ormerod, you were indeed fortunate in going to the help of the
Seneca. You earned, not only his friendship, but that of Peter as
well. No letter from Juggins could have served you so handily.
Peter hath the mind of an Indian for all his white face, and he looks
at things as they do. He likes you."
"I can scarce believe in my good fortune," I replied. "'Tis a change
for the better, and a marked one, believe me, your Excellency."
"You are to be congratulated," he returned heartily. "But I must ask
you to excuse me. I have much work to do. Pray grant me the
pleasure of your company for dinner tomorrow. Colden, will you show
Master Ormerod out?"
It was dusk in the streets, a soft purple dusk that became velvet
darkness under the trees; and I felt in no humor to return to the
drab company which the tavern offered. I was lifted out of myself by
a mood of exaltation. After years which had been starred With
humiliation, penury, discontent, I saw opening before me the golden
path of adventure.
I drank in the tree smells and the odor of the ground underfoot, and
longed for the great forests I had traced on the governor's map. And
so I wandered at hazard until I found myself in an alley leading down
to the waterfront--and heard of a sudden the thud of flying feet. I
spun around in time to see a monstrous bulk come sailing through the
air, knife and tomahawk whirling in either hand.
"I'll kill yer, varmint," howled an ugly voice. "I'll cut yer heart
out and skin yer and take yer scalp!"
I dodged the knife and grappled the wrist which swung the tomahawk,
twisting myself behind him so as to hinder his attack. But he was
far stronger than I and slung me back in front of him as if I were a
sack of chaffed wheat. I still clung to his tomahawk hand and
contrived to knock up another blow of his knife, but he must have
disemboweled me in the next vicious sweep of the blade.
"_Hah-yah-yah-eeee-eee-ee-e!_"
The ferocious yell made my blood run cold. It startled my assailant
even more. His muscles slackened just long enough for me to leap
clear of him.
"----!" he snarled.
He drew one arm back to hurl his knife at me, but something whirred
past my shoulder and his head jerked violently to one side. There
was a sharp clang, and he fled precipitately, shouting curses.
Against the near-by house-wall a small, bright object glimmered
through the shadows, and I stooped to snatch it up--only to leap
instantly erect as a voice spoke at my elbow.
"My brother was in danger," said the voice quietly. "Ta-wan-ne-ars
saw the Red Death follow Ormerod from the Governor's House, so
Ta-wan-ne-ars followed him."
The tall figure of the Seneca was scarcely discernible in the gloom.
"Was it Bolling?" I asked.
He raised the shining object from the ground. It was his tomahawk,
and curled about the blade was a lock of greasy red hair. He pointed
to it.
"That time Ta-wan-ne-ars missed," he said grimly. "Some day the
light will be better--and Ta-wan-ne-ars will not miss."
"Although you missed, you saved my life," I answered warmly. "'Tis
an obligation I shall not forget."
He laid his fingers to his lips.
"Hark," he said.
I listened, and from the water-front came the thunderous voice of the
bellman.
"Half-after-eight-o'clock, and a fine night with a south-west breeze.
And all householders are cautioned they shall set out their
lanthorns, and if any nightwalker shall injure the same he shall be
fined twenty pounds for each offense and jailed in the Bridewell.
"And his Excellency the governor is pleased to proclaim that whereas
divers persons have mocked, assailed or sought to humiliate Indian
visitors to the city, the governor has made a rule that such persons,
upon apprehension, shall be set in the stocks for twelve hours the
first time and upon the second offense shall be publicly whipped at
the cart's tail along the Broad-Way."
Ta-wan-ne-ars replaced his tomahawk in its sheath.
"There is no talk of obligations between brothers," he said. "Come,
we will walk together to your tavern."