We need not follow our nimble scout on his homeward way, a journey
performed with far greater celerity than when he followed the footsteps
of Acashee. Green meadows and mountain hights were left behind him,
and with foot swift as that of the wild stag, and knowing as little
of fatigue, he in due time reached the Casco Bay. Here he found a
canoe secreted or deserted, which he took without scruple and launched
fearlessly across the water, the long strokes of the paddle showing him
fresh as the day on which he started upon his adventures.
No sooner was it known that he had returned, than the council-fire was
lighted, the pipe passed round in token of good, for the calumet was as
indicative of loyalty and secrecy in the eye of the savage, as was the
rose to the classical world.
The young scout told his story in a few brief, frank words, to which
the sagamore listened in silence. He had been confident of learning
something of the fate of Hope Vines, through this return of Acashee
to her people, and now he seemed doomed to disappointment. He had, in
spite of himself, dwelt upon the words of the wizard, “Go to the east,”
and he felt that there he should learn of the fate of Hope Vines. When
the scout at length told of the mysterious disappearance of the woman
at the foot of the falls, and the no less mysterious appearance of the
old man, his interest revived. He waited the conclusion of the recital,
and looked around for the comments of the older chiefs.
All eyes were fixed upon War-ra-was-ky--a chief who had numbered nearly
a hundred years, and who was scarred by many a hard-contested battle,
renowned also for his great wisdom. Rising slowly to his feet, and
resting heavily upon his war-club, the old Nestor thus spoke.
“The words of the young brave awaken a memory that has long slept in
the caves of the past. Listen, my brothers!
“The Great Spirit, mindful of his children, has filled their
hunting-grounds with secret places, where they may hide themselves when
the black cloud descends, and the air is ringing with hurtling clubs
and lightning arrow-heads.
“Listen! In my youth, ere the moss of a century had converted the
sapling into a gnarled and withered tree, our tribes held power over
the Androscoggins. We demanded tribute of them, which they refused to
pay. We burned their wigwams, slew their braves in battle, and chased
them from their old hunting-grounds. At length they made alliance with
the Kennebecs and Penobscots, and we in turn showed the sole of the
foot in place of the white of the eye.”
The war-club of the warrior smote the ground, and his arm shook with
rage as he recalled this hour of defeat.
“Listen! We rallied again; we burned the village of the Androscoggins,
at the top of the Pejipscot, where the great waters pour themselves
in one continuous flood, as the young brave has described. The women
sprung with their children into the boiling waters beneath. The
warriors, few in number, stood on the rocks below.
“Listen! One by one the warriors were gone. We shot our arrows into
their midst, but the rocks above impeded their flight, and there stood
the band beneath in one solid mass, and yet their numbers became less,
till all were gone but a youth, who had all the while stood in front
amidst the spray.
“Listen! He stood there and sung the song of the warrior; he spread his
arms, as if he embraced the waters, and we saw his body dashed from,
rock to rock, till it was lost in the gulf below.”
A murmur ran through the assemblage; the old man bowed his head in
homage of the dauntless dead, and went on:
“Listen! I waited suns and moons around Pejipscot; my eyes never lost
sight of the spot at which the warriors disappeared. At length one
morning, just as the sun tipped the tops of the ancient pines with
fire, I saw a warrior issue from the spray. He cast an eager glance
to the sky, and earth, and water, and before I could save him, he too
plunged himself adown the cataract.
“Listen! A Saco chief is tireless. I waited and watched till, one by
one, the Androscoggins, thin and powerless, showed themselves amid the
spray, and were lost in the flood below.”
The Sagamore of Saco arose to his feet, as the old chief ceased to
speak.
“There is a chamber under the falls, my father, is there not?”
“Thou hast well divined, my son! And there the squawmen who fear the
war-club and the arrow, hide their wolfish bones.”
“The Androscoggins have joined the Terrentines and Kennebecs, and will
descend upon the Sacos with all their power. Let us not wait their
coming. Ere the moon is full, we will spring upon their path like the
panther upon his prey.”
The younger chiefs rose to their feet, and responded by twanging their
bow-strings in token of defiance.
“We will avenge the blood of our warriors; we will reassert our power
over the Androscoggins.”
Such were the words of the young braves.
It was decided, as at one voice, to anticipate the warlike designs
of the eastern tribes, and carry the war, as of old, to the ancient
battlefields of the Androscoggins. The scout was in possession of all
their plans; they would feast their warriors upon the banks of the
Saco, and winter at the Pool, where Indian and white man were alike to
fall in one exterminating blow.
The more cautious chiefs proposed calling upon the colonists to aid in
the expedition, but this was overruled by the sagamore, who declared
the red-man able to carry on his own wars, and strike without aid for
their old council-fires, their altars and their homes.
This audacity pleased the majority, which determined that the
expedition should start upon the third day. They would descend the
Saco--cross Casco Bay to the Kennebec, which river they would ascend
till it receives the Androscoggin, and thence up the latter river
till the Falls of the Pejipscot (Lewiston) should be reached--thus
performing the entire route by water.
It was determined that two hundred picked warriors, headed by the
sagamore, would be sufficient to effect the surprise and discomfiture
of the eastern alliance, which had proposed to wait till the hunting
season was finished before they started upon their warlike expedition.
But the Sacos boasted that the grass never grew in the trail of their
warriors, and now, headed by their brave and untiring sagamore, they
were confident of success.
But, before the tribe started upon this perilous enterprise, according
to their wont they consulted the prophet of the Sacos, to learn the
tokens of the invisible powers, for an Indian, no more than an ancient
Roman, would not impiously expose the public interests of the tribe
without first learning if the gods approved.
Accordingly, the chief men resorted to his wigwam; they laid the
choicest venison, fish and corn at his threshold; then they lighted a
fire upon a rock near by, and having laid beside it an arrow pointing
eastward, and a canoe with the paddles pointing in the same direction,
they seated themselves in silence upon the ground.
It was not long before the wizard appeared, with signs of exultation.
Seizing the arrow, he hurled it into the air, and seemed to urge the
canoe onward; he shouted in a high key words like the following:
“High on this rock the bold eagle is screaming,
Safe in his wigwam the warrior is dreaming.
There’s a cry from the hill-top--a cry from the plain.
A shriek from the dauntless that come never again.
Up, up to the battle, but never a blow!
Up, up to the battle, but never a foe!”
The chiefs exchanged looks of doubt and surprise. The more cautious
would have forced him again before them, but the sagamore declared
the omens were for good, and directed to start upon their way. At once
the two hundred were to be seen threading their way to the river-side,
where the canoes were manned. Here we must leave them, now hugging
the shore to avoid observation, and now boldly breasting the waters
of the stormy sea. Headlands were crossed, not doubled, the warriors
shouldering the canoes at “carrying-places,” which greatly abridged the
distance, the hazards, and the labors of the way.