"'Twas bound to come," he rambled on. "Do you go within and show it
to Mistress Ormerod."
But Marjory had been listening at the window, and as I opened the
door she fell into my arms and clung there, sobbing for the relief
that came to both of us with the lifting of the menace which had
overhung my life so long.
"There, there," admonished the governor. "Gadslife, what does the
girl weep for?"
"Be-be-because--I am--so--happy," answered Marjory,
"Heaven help us, should you weep for grief!" he exclaimed. "And what
will you say when I tell you I am come likewise to summon your
husband to attend for the first time as a member of the Council!"
His rubicund face gleamed with pleasure at the joy he had inspired in
two hearts.
"Tut, tut, 'tis nothing," he pursued his discourse. "I do but serve
myself. I have been housecleaning this past Spring. There were rats
in the Council who sought to trip me in the days you know of. They
are gone. Ormerod should have had a seat ere this but 'twas best to
await the pardon."
"I am so happy I know not what to do," protested Marjory, wiping her
eyes. "But, oh, see who comes!"
We followed her pointing finger; and there, striding between the
ordered house-fronts of Pearl Street, exactly as I had seen him the
first time we met, came Ta-wan-ne-ars, the eagle's feather slanting
from his scalp-lock, the wolf's head of his clan insignia painted on
his naked chest. His grave face was smiling. His right arm was
raised in salute.
"_Qua_, Ga-en-gwa-ra-go! _Qua_, friends! Ta-wan-ne-ars greets you."
"You are just arrived?" I asked.
"This hour landed, brother, from the river-sloop."
"Have you any frontier news?" questioned the governor, alert as
always for tidings of his distant dominions.
"Only news of peace. The frontier is quiet. The Doom Trail is
closed. Do-ne-ho-ga-weh and To-do-da-ho say to Ga-en-gwa-ra-go that
the French have forgotten the threats they made. The Covenant Chain
was too strong for them, and so long as the English and the People of
the Long House keep their hands clasped the peace will endure."
"I told the French that the People of the Long House had the right to
destroy a force which assailed their interests," responded the
governor. "And his Majesty my King sent word to the French King that
my words were straight."
"Ga-en-gwa-ra-go is a friend to the Great League," rejoined the
Seneca. "His fame as a truth-teller and a covenant-keeper has gone
broadcast. The far tribes are traveling to Albany to offer their
allegiance and friendship to him. The fur-trade is once more under
control of the English and the Long House."
"We have waited long for you to visit us, brother," I said. "Now
that you have come we shall make you stay many moons."
His smile became sad.
"It can not be. Ta-wan-ne-ars comes to say good-bye."
"Good-bye?"
"Yes, brother. Have you forgotten the search for my Lost Soul!"
"But she is dead!"
"She is with Ata-ent-sic."
"What is this that you speak of?" demanded the governor.
And we told him the story of Ga-ha-no, while the sunshine mottled the
dust of Pearl Street and the life of the little town droned sleepily
under the trees.
Master Burnet drew a deep breath when the tale was finished.
"You really believe you may find this Land of Lost Souls out
there"--he motioned over the scattered house-tops toward Hudson's
River--"beyond the setting sun?"
"The ancient tales of my people say that I may," replied
Ta-wan-ne-ars.
"And why not?" returned the governor. "God alone--and I say it with
all fitting reverence--knows what lies beyond the wilderness country.
"Go, Ta-wan-ne-ars. Seek your Lost Soul. Even if you do not find
the shadow land of Ata-ent-sic, you may find wonders that your people
and mine have never dreamed of."
"Yes," said the Seneca. "Ta-wan-ne-ars will go. What is life but a
search? Some men seek scalps. Some men seek beaver-pelts. Some men
seek honors as leaders and orators. Some men seek truth.
"Ta-wan-ne-ars seeks his Lost Soul. He has no fear. He will go
through Da-ye-da-do-go-war, the Great Home of the Winds, where Ga-oh,
the Wind Spirit, dwells. He will go through Ha-nis-ka-o-no-geh, the
Dwelling-Place of the Evil-Minded. He will go to the world's end if
the Great Spirit will but guide his footsteps."
"Oh, I pray that you may find what you seek," cried Marjory, the
tears in her eyes again. "But sure, you will stay with us a little
while?"
"I will go at once, Sister Ne-e-ar-go-ye"--he called her the Bear in
memory of her exploit in rescuing us from the False Faces--"now that
I have seen my white friends."
"Stay with us a while," she pleaded.
"You would not ask me if you knew how my heart hungered for her whom
I have lost," he answered.
"Then go," said Marjory quickly. "And God bless you."
"_Hi-ne-a-weh_,[1] O, my sister. It is time. I have been delayed
overlong. There were many things for Ta-wan-ne-ars to do before he
could go. The affairs of the Long House required attention. The
guard of the Western Door must be secured.. But from this day I
shall turn my face to the setting sun, and the hunger in my heart
will be satisfied--if the Great Spirit wills it, as I think He does."
[1] I thank you.
He would not step indoors for food, but insisted on walking back
toward the Broad-Way with Master Burnet and me. At the Bowling Green
we encountered Peter Corlaer. His huge belly waggled before him with
the energy of his pace, and he was quite out of breath.
"Ha, Peter," the governor hailed him. "Well met, indeed. What hath
earned us this honor?"
"I heardt Ta-wan-ne-ars was here," he panted. "I followedt him down
rifer from Fort Orange."
"What does Corlaer wish?" asked Ta-wan-ne-ars.
The big Dutchman stammered and gurgled with embarrassment.
"I go with you," he gasped after much effort.
"But you know not whither I go," said Ta-wan-ne-ars.
"Wherefer you go. Idt does not matter."
"I go to the Land of Lost Souls."
"_Ja_, that's all righdt," returned Corlaer. "I go with you."
"Take him, Ta-wan-ne-ars," advised the governor. "'Tis a friend you
may depend upon who will follow you a week's journey for the
privilege of securing your assent to the risking of his life in your
service."
The hard lines of the Seneca's stern face were softened by a rare
glow of feeling.
"Ta-wan-ne-ars never doubted Corlaer, Ga-en-gwa-ra-go," he answered,
squeezing Peter's hand in his. "He would not ask any to go with him
because the peril is great. But he will be glad to have Peter by his
side. We will take the first boat which leaves."
"One is sailing from der Whale's Headt wharf," suggested Peter.
"Good. Then we will say good-bye here."
"No, no, we will accompany you to the wharf," said the governor.
"Where are you from, Peter?"
"I was in der Shawnees' country when I heardt Ta-wan-ne-ars was going
upon a long journey alone. So I go to De-o-nun-da-ga-a, andt from
there to Fort Orange andt here."
"Have you heard aught of Black Robe since the burning of La Vierge du
Bois?"
"He was in der country of der Miamis this Spring, they saidt."
"And Murray?"
"_Nein_, Murray is nefer spoken of. Der French would hafe none of
him. They saidt he sailed from Quebec for der Hafana."
"So are the mighty fallen," mused the governor as we strolled along.
"A few short months ago he was more powerful than I in the province.
Today he is nobody."
"Beg yer pardons, sirs," wheezed a voice behind us, "but the tapman
at the Whale's Head Tavern yonder said as how one o' ye was Master
Ormerod."
The speaker was a tarry, grizzled sailor-man, with three fingers
slashed off his left hand. He touched his cap knowingly, and ranged
up beside us.
"I am Master Ormerod," I told him.
"Ah, yessir. Thanky, sir."
He eyed me keenly.
"It's the face and the figger, right enough. I'd ha' knowed you
anywheres."
"Where have I seen you before!" I inquired with surprize.
"Never laid eyes on me, you ain't, sir--nor me on you," he returned
promptly.
"What is it you want then?"
I reached into my pocket, thinking perhaps the man was a beggar.
'Twas my lucky day, I reflected, and 'twould be churlish to deny help
to one in want.
"I won't be refusin' o' a pan o' rum like," he responded with a grin.
"But my business was to give ye this."
And he produced from the inside of his jacket an oblong package
wrapped in canvas.
"Here y'are, sir."
He thrust it into my grasp, fisted the shilling I offered him and
made off at speed into a convenient alley. I called after him, but
he only cast a look over his shoulder and took to his heels.
"Examine the package," said the governor. "'Tis a queer gift a man
will not wait to see appraised."
Beneath the canvas was a wrapping of oiled silk, and within that one
of heavy linen. As this fell away our eyes were blinded by a
dazzling heap of red and white stones linked with bars of gold.
"A necklace of rubies and diamonds," opined Master Burnet. "Spoil of
the Indies."
A slip of paper fluttered to the ground. I picked it up. The
writing was in brown ink, faded by dampness, but fully legible--a
bold, flowing script. It ran:
From One who shal bee Namelesse, a Gentleman of goode Estate and
Name, who is now Under a Cloude but will Yette recover fromme 'ye
slings and Arrowes of Outrageous fortune.' Take this so Mistress
Ormerod maye not bee Portionlesse. There is More where this came
from.
"I'll wager there is," pronounced the governor. "Master Murray hath
turned pirate. I would I had that tarry breeks who scurried hence,
and we might screw some information from him. But New York town is a
favorite haunt of his breed, and he will disappear without trouble."
"What shall I do with it?" I asked in bewilderment.
Ta-wan-ne-ars and Peter joined in the governor's hearty roar of
amusement.
"Why, even accept it," quoth Master Burnet. "The villain has tricked
you so you can do naught else. 'Tis an extraordinary rogue."
So I pocketed the gems, and we walked out upon the wharf where the
sloop _River Queene_ lay with her moorings slack.
"Tumble aboard, my masters," shouted the captain. "There's a fair
breeze and the tide is flowing."
"Good-bye," said Ta-wan-ne-ars. "Ga-en-gwa-ra-go and O-te-ti-an-i
will be always in the thoughts of Ta-wan-ne-ars."
"Goodt-by," mumbled Corlaer.
"Good-bye for a while," retorted the governor. "We shall be ready to
welcome you with rejoicing when you return with a brave tale to tell
us."
"Good-bye," I called, and my voice choked.
I raised my right arm in the Iroquois gesture of greeting and
farewell. Ta-wan-ne-ars answered in kind, motionless as a bronze
statue against the dirty gray expanse of the sail. The sloop dropped
her moorings and glided out into the current.
In ten minutes Peter's face was a broad white blotch at the foot of
the mast and Ta-wan-ne-ars was a darker blur beside him. They sailed
on into the eye of the setting sun.
"'Tis the very spirit of this land, Ormerod," observed Master Burnet
as we watched. "Having finished one adventure, they seek a fresh
trial of their resource and daring. Ah, well, 'tis for you and me to
take their precept and strive to sharpen our wits upon some homely
adventures of our own. All of us may not seek the Land of Lost
Souls, but each of us may find a worth-while task upon his doorstep."