"Here, Persian, tell thy embassy! Repeat
That, to obtain my friendship, Asia's prince
To me hath proffered sovereignty of Greece."
LEONIDAS.
Ralph found Mr. Barton and his companions in consultation upon some
subject of apparent importance, from the anxiety which was manifested in
their countenances. Two Indians of the Seneca Nation were seen
approaching the cottage; and although as they were unarmed, no immediate
hostility could be expected, yet it was evident they were coming upon
some errand relative to the shelter of the Tuscarora. If such were the
case, this departure from the ordinary caution of the Indian, might be
evidence either of the desire not to come in conflict with the whites,
or of a confidence, on their part, in their ability to succeed in any
attack they might make upon the dwelling.
It was decided that Ralph, the Tuscarora and Gauthrie should remain in
the cottage, while Barton and Ichabod should meet the approaching
Indians, and ascertain the nature of their errand. With this view the
two latter proceeded to a small grove which had been left uncleared,
except of the underbrush, a short distance south of the dwelling.
The two Indians approached with an apparent feeling of security. They
were to all appearance unarmed; and they exhibited a manner of
confidence and amity intended to convince the persons with whom they
were to deal, that their mission was a friendly one. One of these
Indians was Deersfoot, whom we have already mentioned; the other was of
a much less warlike appearance. He was small of stature, with a quick,
cunning glance, and was celebrated among his people for oratory. His
name was Snake-tongue,--given to him evidently, by reason of greater
powers with his eloquence than with his rifle.
When they had approached within fifteen or twenty feet of the position
occupied by Barton and Ichabod, the former advanced towards them with a
smile, and welcomed them to his cottage.
"It is not often," said he, "that I have an opportunity to honor the
young warriors of the Senecas. It is seldom that they visit the country
of the Oneidas, in time of peace."
"The Oneidas and Senecas are brothers," said Deersfoot. "A cloud
sometimes has passed between them; but there is no cloud now. They are
brothers still. The young men of the Senecas came to look on the hunting
grounds of their brothers."
"The country of the Senecas is not a good country, then?" asked Barton,
"I had heard that the Senecas dwelt in a garden--that they owned large
lakes that are filled with fish, and forests that are filled with deer."
"My father," said Deersfoot, in deference to the grey hairs of Barton,
"my father tells the truth; such is the country of the Senecas. The
Great Spirit has given us a good land to dwell in. He has given us lakes
that are full of fish, and forests that are full of deer. The Senecas
and Oneidas belong to the same nation;--together they conquered the
Sennape; and the Senecas are proud when they hear of the fame of the
Oneidas. Why should we not love to look upon the country of our
brothers?"
"I am glad that you like to look upon this valley, Deersfoot. I am glad
to hear that there is no cloud between the Senecas and the Oneidas. It
would not be well if there were."
Barton had carefully abstained from touching the point which was likely
to be that of controversy. It never comports with the dignity of an
Indian to show haste or curiosity; and he knew that he could maintain a
better position on the question which would probably arise, if he
suffered them, without any manifestation of curiosity on his part, to
unfold the nature of their errand.
"The Five Nations were once a great nation," said Deersfoot, "they could
travel a great many day's journey and not leave their country: the wolf
that howled amidst the snows north of the great lakes, they had a right
to hunt; and to gather fruits from under the warm sun of the south. But
it is not so now. We are now weak; and the pale-faces are strong. The
Great Spirit has willed it, and we cannot help it: we would help it if
we could. But it does no good to talk. We grow weaker every day."
"The Great Spirit," said Barton, "has not been so unkind to the Five
Nations. The warriors of the Five Nations have not always been wise. If
they had listened to the words of the Christian teachers who have talked
to them, they would have been a stronger nation. But they dug up the
hatchet against their brothers of the Colonies, and they lost a great
many warriors."
A gleam of deadly ferocity passed over the face of Deersfoot for a
moment, and his wild, dark eyes shot forth glances of hatred--but in an
instant he recovered his composure.
"It may be that my father speaks wise. The Indians know but a little,
and may be they were wrong. They lost a great many warriors, it is true.
But they pleased the eyes of their old men and squaws with many scalps
of their enemies. A white man followed every warrior of the Senecas, in
the path that leads to the happy hunting grounds of the Great Spirit."
The tone in which this reply of the Seneca was uttered was sufficiently
startling. Ichabod stretched his tall form as if he was about to intrude
upon the conversation, but at a gesture from Barton, he remained
silent.
Deersfoot, after a moment's silence, continued: "We have come to have a
talk with the pale-faces of the cottage. The Senecas have not got forked
tongues. They have buried the hatchet with the Yengeese, and with the
Colony pale-faces. They would not dig it up again. Let my brothers hear
and be wise. Snake-tongue will speak."
With these words, he stepped back, with dignity, while Snake-tongue,
after a few moment's hesitation, advanced towards Barton. In a low but
musical voice, he commenced his harangue:
"My name is Snake-tongue. It is a good name for friends to bear--it is a
bad name for enemies. The warrior is known by his name.
"Deersfoot has said that the Five Nations are weak, and that the
pale-faces are strong. It may be so; I cannot dispute it. I have seen
the Yankee pale-faces fight the Great King over the water for seven
winters and summers--they must be strong. Deersfoot has spoken the
truth.
"Deersfoot has said that the Five Nations grow weaker every day. We are
now _Six_ Nations, and we are weaker than when we were _Five_ Nations.
Why is it so? The pale-faces have slain a great many of our warriors;
but that has not made us weak. It is because the Great Spirit has turned
the hearts of his red children against each other. If a pale-face slays
an Indian, it is wrong; but it is not so wrong as it is for one Indian
to slay another. The sad spirit of the dead warrior goes on its path,
and complains to the Great Spirit, that its enemy does not follow him,
and the Great Spirit is angry. We must shed the blood of the murderer.
It is the law of the Great Spirit, and it is a good law.
"The Yankee pale-faces are strong, when they come together in armies;
but are they strong _here_? My father is away from his friends in the
settlements; he has but two or three pale-paces with him. Are two or
three pale-faces a match for the young warriors of the Senecas? Let my
father pause and think."
"There are five of us, Snake-tongue, with plenty of rifles and powder;
and good walls behind which we can stand and pick out our enemies," said
Barton, who saw the tendency of this harangue, and who was disposed to
meet the issue half way.
Snake-tongue continued, cold and impassive. "My father speaks the truth.
There are _five_ warriors to defend the cottage of the pale-faces. There
are _four_ pale-faces, and a red man. But we have buried the hatchet
with the pale-faces:--we are no longer enemies, but friends. We do not
care whether there are five warriors or twenty in the cottage. We are at
peace with the pale-faces. It makes no difference to us. We are
friends."
"Why then, does Snake-tongue make us this long war-speech? It is true
that we are friends; let us continue so."
"My father speaks wise. Let us remain friends. There is no cloud between
us and the pale-faces, that the pale-faces cannot put away. A young
warrior of the Senecas has been killed, and his enemy has got his scalp.
Did the pale-faces do that? No,--the pale-faces do not take scalps; but
an Indian always does; a scalp looks good in his eyes. We would find the
scalp of our young warrior! Where is it?"
"I am sorry," answered Barton, "if any of your young men have been
killed; but Snake-tongue speaks true; he was not killed by the
pale-faces. I do not know where his scalp is."
"But we know where it is," continued Snake-tongue. "It is hid beneath
the belt of Canendesha. He has hid it from his friends; but he cannot
hide it from the Senecas. Their eyes are sharp; they can see an enemy a
great way off,--and they can find his trail if he hides. Canendesha is
in the cottage of the pale-faces. We are at peace with the pale-faces;
but we want the Tuscarora. He has killed a warrior of the Senecas. The
Tuscarora must die. It is Indian law. It was taught us by the Great
Spirit that we must punish our enemies. We want the Tuscarora."
The Indian paused, as if waiting for a reply. Barton answered--
"My brother has a bad tradition; it is not true; the Great Spirit does
not teach the red men to punish their enemies. The red men have not
heard right; their ears have been shut. The Great Spirit has said that
the red men must love their enemies."
"I have heard," answered Snake-tongue, "of such a tradition among the
pale-faces. It must be a false tradition, for the pale-faces do not
believe it; _they_ punish their enemies. _We_ believe in _our_
tradition. It is a good one."
"I do not deny," said Barton, who saw that the conversation must be
terminated, "but that the Tuscarora may have killed one of your young
men; but did not the young Seneca try to prevent him from getting his
squaw? We have heard that Panther has stolen the squaw of the Tuscarora,
and will not give her up. Is that right? Do red men treat their brothers
so, and expect that their hearts will be filled with peace?"
"The young squaw," answered Snake-tongue, quietly, "is in the wigwam of
Panther; she can go if she does not wish to stay there; but her eyes
like to look on Panther. He is a great warrior."
Ichabod could be restrained no longer. This slander of Singing-Bird was
more than his friendship for Eagle's-Wing, would allow him to bear.
"See here, Snake-tongue," said he, "you're a sort of ambassador here,
and its again all law to make war on that sort of people; but I don't
know of any law to prevent my telling you that you lie like a rascally
Seneca."
Both Deersfoot and Snake-tongue started at this defiant speech of
Ichabod; and at the first impulse put their hands to their belts as if
to grasp their knives; but in a moment they resumed their composure,
and seemed to await the reply of Barton, who said, at length:
"We have heard your demand, Snake-tongue. The Tuscarora is our friend.
He has been wronged by the Senecas. We do not believe that Singing-Bird
wishes to remain in the wigwam of Panther. It cannot be true, although
Panther _is_ a great warrior. We cannot give up the Tuscarora. He is our
friend."
"And furthermore," said Ichabod, "we demand that you should release
Singing-Bird; and tell your lying chief, that if she isn't sent along
instanter, we'll come after her. I've fou't Senecas before."
"My brothers have spoken," said Snake-tongue, quietly; "I will give
their words to the warriors of the Senecas. Perhaps they have spoken
wise. It is not for me to say."
Thus saying, the two Indians withdrew from the grove, as quietly as they
had entered it.
"The lying reptile!" exclaimed Ichabod. "To insinuate that Singing-Bird
has a liking for that rascally red-skin. If he hadn't been an
ambassador, I would have made him swallow his words on the spot."
"The Seneca lied, undoubtedly," said Barton; "but we have now got to
defend ourselves. The language and tone of Snake-tongue implied nothing
less. I am getting very much interested in the history of Singing-Bird,
myself; and we will find some means, in case we succeed in repelling the
Senecas from the cottage, to aid the Tuscarora in rescuing her."
"That's right, Squire," said Ichabod. "Eagle's-Wing and I have sworn to
do that; and Providence permitting, I'll have a chance at that
foul-mouthed rascal yet."
Barton and Ichabod now entered the house, where they found Guthrie and
the Tuscarora engaged, apparently, in a friendly conversation. The
result of the "talk" was communicated; and although it was agreed that
the Senecas would make an attack upon the cottage, yet no one seemed to
think that they would immediately do so. The arrangements for defence
were now, however, all made, and the duty of each individual assigned,
so far as it could now be done. When this was accomplished, the party
separated; each, however, taking it upon himself to watch warily for the
first signs of the attack.
Ralph walked out into the grove, where the recent conversation with the
Senecas had taken place. He felt much anxiety for the result of the
coming conflict; not that he really feared that the Indians would
succeed; but he well knew that the issues of such encounters are never
certain. Perhaps his warm attachment towards Ruth had much to do with
this feeling; for in the event of failure in defending the cottage, were
the Indians disposed to reap all the advantages of their success, as
would probably be the case, in the heat of their excitement and
passion, the situation of Ruth would be extremely dangerous. He would
have been much better satisfied at that moment, were Ruth at the
settlements, or in some place of safety, where she would not be exposed
to the accidents of the impending encounter. But it was now too late to
allow of her flight, even if it had been deemed advisable. While engaged
in these thoughts, Ruth, who had observed him from the cottage,
approached him, and laid her light hand on his shoulder. Ralph started,
but smiled as he recognized Miss Barton.
"How now, Sir Knight?" said Ruth, "you do not seem to be occupied with
very pleasant thoughts."
"They ought to be of a pleasant nature, certainly," said Ralph, "for I
was thinking of no one else than Miss Barton."
"I am sorry," said Ruth, "if so unworthy a person as I can give Captain
Weston such a serious countenance."
"Miss Barton, I do not wish to say anything to alarm you, but all our
exertions will be required to defence our lives to-night."
"Is it certain we are to be attacked so soon?" inquired Ruth, with a
slight look of alarm.
"I think there can be no doubt of it; and at such a time with so few
defenders, and so unmerciful and vigilant an enemy, although we have not
much cause to fear defeat, yet that result is possible."
"I did not think our situation was so serious," said Ruth, now evidently
alarmed. "What _can_ we do?"
"Nothing, but use such means as we possess for defending ourselves; and
I think we shall succeed in doing so. But," said Ralph, with a slight
embarrassment, "at such a time as this--when we are threatened with such
a danger, it is not surprising that you should have found me thinking
earnestly upon the situation of one so dear to me as yourself. Let me,
Ruth," he continued, taking her hand, which reposed not unwillingly in
his own, "tell you how much I esteem and love you, and that my whole
happiness now depends upon you."
He paused, and whatever might have been the answer of Ruth, he saw that
in her countenance which informed him that his wishes were well
understood and answered.
In that fond dream of happiness in which all present danger was
forgotten, they wandered through the grove, filled with those delightful
thoughts and fancies, which are only born in the sweet hopes of requited
affection.
The shades of approaching evening were creeping slowly over the valley.
The long shadows of the trees fell upon the cleared meadow-land, the
perfect picture of repose. Never sank a brighter sun among more lovely
clouds--crimsoned in deep curtained folds, with golden edges, giving
full promise of a fair to-morrow.
"It is a beautiful evening," said Ralph: "one of those hours when fair
hopes are fairer; and the natural world seems to reflect the happiness
of our souls. May this not be a promise for the future?"
"May it be so," answered Ruth; "but what events may take place, before
that sun rises again!"
"Let us not fear too much," said Ralph. "We must meet the danger
bravely, and when it is over, dear Ruth, we shall be none the less happy
that it is past."
"Hush!" whispered Ruth suddenly, "look there!" pointing to a grove of
small trees but eight or ten rods distant. Ralph looked in the direction
indicated by her, and he beheld three Indians who were slowly creeping
towards them. The Indians, who had no cover behind which to advance, had
necessarily exposed their persons, and in this manner had progressed
unobserved for a number of rods. They now saw that they were discovered,
and rising with a wild whoop, rushed towards them.
Ralph and Miss Barton were just about equi-distant from the Indians and
the cottage. Impulsively, Ralph, who was entirely without means of
defence, caught Ruth in his arms and ran towards the building. The
Indians pursued, and rapidly gained upon the fugitives. One of the
pursuers far outsped the others, and had already reached within twenty
feet of Ralph, when the discharge of a rifle was heard, and he leaped
with a yell into the air and fell struggling upon the ground. In another
moment Ralph and his precious burden were inside the door; but as it
closed, the tomahawk of another pursuer quivered in the post beside it.
Instantly the grove was filled with enemies.