"Qua, O-te-ti-an-i!"
Do-ne-ho-ga-weh's right arm was lifted in the salute. The little
group of Indians standing at his side on the fringe of the woods
overlooking the smoking ruins of La Vierge du Bois repeated the
greeting. Corlaer, his broad face with its insignificant, haphazard
features shining with emotion, grasped my hand and wrung it heartily.
"You hafe der lifes of a cat, my friendt!" he exclaimed. "We hafe
foundt der torture stakes with der bodies of some of your party
andt----"
He paused and glanced at Do-ne-ho-ga-weh. The Guardian of the
Western Door drew himself up proudly.
"Ga-ha-no did wrong," he said, "but she died as became the daughter
of a _roy-an-eh_ of the Long House."
"She died like a warrior," I replied.
"O-te-ti-an-i makes the heart of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh very glad,"
acknowledged the _roy-an-eh_. "Can he still my fears for my nephew?"
"Ta-wan-ne-ars fought like a chief," I answered. "But his heart was
made very sad by the death of Ga-ha-no and his mind has wandered from
him for a space."
"It will return," affirmed Do-ne-ho-ga-weh. "Now tell us, O my white
son, do you come hither as a captive or a conqueror?"
"I come to offer the terms of Murray; but first tell me how
successful you have been, so that I may know whether I should advise
acceptance of what he offers."
Do-ne-ho-ga-weh swept his arm around the horizon.
"Everywhere you see ashes and destruction," he replied. "The Keepers
of the Trail are dead or imprisoned in Murray's stockade. Their
women and children are our prisoners. Our belts can scarcely support
the loads of scalps we have taken. We have swept the Doom Trail."
A new figure stepped forward--modestly, as became a young warrior in
the company of _roy-an-ehs_ and chiefs. 'Twas the Otter. He too
saluted me.
"We thought that you escaped the ambush," I said. "You did well.
Great will be the fame of the Otter."
He selected two from a bundle of scalps at his belt and held them
aloft.
"Two pursued the Otter when he ran from the Evil Wood," he boasted.
"But none returned to tell the way he took. The Otter hastened day
and night, O my white brother, O-te-ti-an-i, hoping he might bring
warriors to rescue you from the Keepers."
"The Otter did well," I repeated. "Had it not been for him, Murray
might have been able to flee to Canada. As it is, the warriors of
the Long House have surrounded him. He wishes only to save his life.
Harken to the terms he offers."
They listened without comment to Murray's proposition.
"But we have a hostage, also," objected Do-ne-ho-ga-weh when I had
finished. "We have been holding him for the torture-stake. Perhaps
Murray will be willing to accept less when he learns that we have
taken Black Robe."
"No, Black Robe means nothing to Murray," I said.
And I described the clash between the two rulers of La Vierge du Bois
over the wedding of Marjory.
"It does not matter," commented Do-ne-ho-ga-weh. "Black Robe is our
enemy, and we will torture him to avenge our warriors who have
perished here at the stake."
"No, no," I objected. "You must let him go. The Great Spirit has
set his seal upon him. Twice before this he has been tortured, yet
he still lives."
"The third time may be the last," insisted Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, and the
other chiefs murmured agreement with him.
"Will my father yield the life of Black Robe to me as a special
gift?" I tried again. "He befriended the maiden I hope to marry. I
should like to set him free."
They consulted together, and Corlaer urged my cause. In the end
Do-ne-ho-ga-weh assented because, he said, I had brought good luck to
the Long House and this was the first favor I had requested.
"And now," he concluded, "take back this message to Murray, my white
son. Tell him that he is to surrender his house as it stands, with
all it contains. Tell him that he is to give up to us the maiden he
calls his daughter, whom you desire to wed. Tell him that he is to
send forth the prisoners he has taken. Tell him that he is to render
up all the arms he has in his possession.
"And then he and those of the Keepers of the Trail who are left to
him shall march out, and the People of the Long House will escort
them to Jaraga, where they shall be handed over to Joncaire to
dispose of as pleases Onontio and the French.
"_Na-ho!_"
I said good-bye to them, and tramped back across the clearing to the
stockade above which waved a white napkin fastened to a ramrod.
Murray awaited me just within the gate. The Keepers, in their
fantastic feather headdresses, crouched on the firing-platform and
peered down at us fearfully. Splotches of blood in the dirty snow
showed where several of them had been killed by the plunging fire of
the Iroquois from the trees which rimmed the clearing.
Murray heard my report in silence, and cast his eye over the
surrounding scene before replying.
"It shall be done," he said at last. "Was ever a man so sorely tried
by fate? Zooks! 'twill cost me a pretty penny and no slight effort
to recoup my fortunes."