IN THE LODGE OF THE ARROW-MAKER
The lodge of Kaweras, occupied only by him and his two daughters, stood
by itself in a grassy glade shaded by elms on the western bank of the
lordly Shatemuc. Close at hand flowed a spring of crystal water, while
at no great distances were abundant materials for the prosecution
of the old arrow-maker's trade. Nearby hills furnished him with
flints and slate, agate and milk-white quartz; stout reeds and tough,
straight-grained woods were to be had for the taking. Deer of the
forest yielded him their strong back-sinews for binding arrow-head to
shaft, and myriads of sea-fowl flying up or down the broad river gave
him of their feathers. In his younger days Kaweras had been a noted
warrior. Now he was the most expert arrow-maker of the region in which
he dwelt. He was also a mystic, a prophet, and one well versed in the
science of healing by means of herbs, roots, bark, and leaves.
In his double capacity of arrow-maker and medicine-man Kaweras was much
sought after, and though his lodge stood remote from any village of his
people, it was rarely without visitors. Young warriors came for arrows
and to catch glimpses of his pretty daughters; their elders came to
consult with him concerning grave affairs; while many of all ages and
both sexes came for healing or to profit by his advice. As all brought
gifts, Kaweras was well-to-do, and his larder was always stocked with
choicest products of forest and field without effort on his own part or
that of his daughters.
These last kept tidy the spacious lodge with its three divisions, of
which only the outer one was for the general public, prepared the
family meals, and did much sewing with needles of fishbone threaded
with fibre or sinew. At the same time they found abundant leisure for
paddling on the river in their canoe of white birch brought from the
far north and for attending to the needs of their pets, two tame fawns
and a large flock of wild ducks bred in captivity. Also they helped
their father in the making of arrows, and especially in the gathering
of material.
With this busy but uneventful life the elder sister was quite content,
but Aeana always longed for excitement and adventure. Now she had
found both in the coming to their quiet lodge of a stranger, young,
mysterious, wounded to the point of death, and speaking a language to
which even the wisdom of her father could find no clue. Furthermore,
she regarded him with a proprietary interest, for had she not
discovered him and rescued him from almost certain destruction?
During the long illness that followed his coming, and while he lay
oblivious to his surroundings, she often gazed curiously upon his face,
listened to the three strange words that he repeated to the exclusion
of all others, and speculated concerning him. She became impatient for
him to get well that he might tell her who he was, where he came from,
and how he happened to be in the sad plight that had so nearly proved
fatal. She would have talked of him to their many visitors but for her
father's expressed wish that Nahma's presence in their lodge should
be kept a secret from all men. Kaweras hoped thus to learn something
concerning him from unguarded conversations, but in this he was
disappointed. It is true that he heard of the mysterious disappearance
of Nahma, the son of Longfeather, but whenever that youth was mentioned
Miantinomo was described, and as this description did not coincide in
any particular with the appearance of his patient, he had no reason to
connect the two.
Otshata was quite as much interested in the young stranger as was
her sister, but in another way. She thought him very handsome, which
Aeana would not admit, and secretly rejoiced in the helplessness that
depended so largely upon her gentle ministrations. She had the motherly
instinct that found pleasure in self-sacrifice, and from the first
constituted herself chief nurse of the stricken youth.
For a long time it was doubtful if Nahma would ever recover from the
illness by which he was prostrated; but after it finally took a turn
for the better he began rapidly to mend. On the day that he first
ventured outside the lodge into the freedom of open air there was
much rejoicing in the little family, but it was tinged with sadness.
Although weak and emaciated from his long sickness, he was still a
goodly youth to look upon, and gave promise of speedily regaining his
physical powers; but his mind was that of a child. He could neither
tell nor remember anything of his former life, even its language was
lost to him, and he could converse only in such words of the Iroquois
tongue as he had acquired from his present associates. As he could not
tell them his name, they called him "Massasoit," from the word he had
most frequently uttered during his delirium, and this he accepted as
readily as he did all else that they offered him.
While thus compelled to relearn everything that required mental effort,
it was soon discovered that he had lost none of his cunning in matters
calling for physical strength or skill. He could still shoot an arrow
or hurl a spear with unerring aim, was rarely at fault on the dimmest
trail, and proved himself an adept in such branches of Indian handiwork
as usually fell to the share of warriors, such as the fashioning of
weapons or the building of canoes. He soon regained a muscular strength
even greater than that with which he had been endowed before his
illness, while his fleetness of foot excited the wonder of his friends.
With all this Nahma was gentle and submissive to authority, a trait
that aroused the utmost scorn in the mind of Aeana. From the time his
mental weakness was discovered this high-spirited girl treated him as
she would a child, bidding him come or go, fetch or carry, according
as she felt inclined, and apparently she despised him for his ready
obedience to her orders. He, on the other hand, regarded her with an
intense admiration and sought in every way to win her favor. All his
trophies of the chase were laid at her feet only to be contemptuously
rejected or flung to Otshata. In the latter, however, the young man
found a friend to whom his misfortune appealed so keenly that she
treated him with unwearied kindness and tenderest consideration. He
called her "sister," a term that he dared not apply to Aeana, and
poured all his troubles into her sympathetic ear.
One day Nahma returned hot and weary from a chase that had lasted many
hours and presented a noble stag to Aeana. Without taking notice of the
gift, and careless of his evident weariness, she bade him fetch her
water from the spring. As he willingly departed on this mission she
regarded him with curling lip, and when he returned bearing a large
earthen jar of water that he set before her, she promptly overturned
it so that its contents were spilled. At the same time she uttered the
single word "squaw" with an accent of utter contempt and entered the
lodge, leaving him bewildered and mortified.
Walking slowly towards the river, he discovered Otshata seated in a
shaded nook on its bank embroidering a moccasin with painted quills.
"My sister, why does Aeana hate me?" he asked, as he flung himself
despondently on the turf beside her.
"She hates thee not, my brother," replied the other, interrupting her
work to look at him.
"Truly she does. In every word and by every act she shows her dislike,"
declared Nahma, bitterly. "She would be glad never to see me more,
and I will go away rather than remain longer to displease her by my
presence."
"Speak not of such a thing!" exclaimed Otshata. "Whither would you go,
and what should we do without our hunter? If Aeana seems to treat thee
unkindly, it is only to inspire thee with a braver spirit. She likes
it not that one come to the estate of a warrior should tamely serve
her. She would have thee do brave deeds, and also she would have thee
remember thy past. Canst thou not do this, and by hard thinking recall
some one thing? Who was thy father? Who struck the cruel blow that so
nearly ended thy life? Who are thy people? Are they the Saganaga of the
south, the Oneidas of the west, or wast thou born among the fish-eaters
who dwell in the country of sunrising? I will not ask if thou hast
Huron blood in thy veins; for in spite of thy moccasins I feel assured
that thou art not of that wicked people."
By this reference Otshata recalled the fact that, when found wounded
in the river sedge, Nahma had on his feet a pair of Huron-made
moccasins procured in the village of Peace to replace others worn out
by his journey; but of these he could give no account.
"I strive to remember," declared the youth, vehemently. "Night and day,
sleeping and waking, I think till my head seems like to burst, but
'tis of no use. The only life that I know is here, and if I have had
another, it is gone from me like a dream of the black hours. So it is
well that I should go away, and if these Hurons be thy enemies and the
enemies of Aeana, then will I go and fight against them that she may no
longer despise and hate me."
"No, no!" cried Otshata. "Think not of the war-path, my brother. The
Hurons are very fierce and terrible and cruel. Also they are so filled
with evil designs that only the wisest and most experienced warriors
may hope for success against them. Thee they would easily kill; or,
what is worse, they would take advantage of thy simplicity to adopt
thee and make thee sharer of their wickedness."
At this point the conversation was interrupted by a summons from
Kaweras bidding Massasoit come to him quickly.
While it had been comparatively easy to keep secret the presence of
a stranger in the lodge of Kaweras during his illness, it became
impossible to do so after he was out and about. So a knowledge of
the mysterious youth who could remember nothing of his past speedily
became noised abroad, and many persons, attracted by curiosity, came
to see him. The victim of these interviews dreaded them so intensely
that he spent much time in remote forest depths to avoid them. Now,
however, he was fairly caught, and going reluctantly to the lodge,
followed at a distance by Otshata, he found himself in the presence
of a distinguished-looking chieftain who was seated on a robe beside
Kaweras. Behind them stood a group of warriors. As Nahma drew near the
eyes of all these were fixed intently upon him, though no word was
spoken until he paused within a few paces of his host.