THE COMING OF SACANDAGA
As the concluding notes of Nahma's cry echoed over the still waters and
were lost among the distant hills, the two youths listened anxiously
for an answer. Nor had they long to wait, for within a minute the call
of a whippoorwill came back to them almost exactly as the young warrior
had uttered it; but it came from the wrong direction.
"Sacandaga has passed us after all," muttered Nahma in a tone of
vexation.
"Not so," replied the Beaver, "for that was not the answer agreed upon.
Do you not remember? The call was to be two and then one, while the
answer was to be one and then two. This answer came back even as the
call was given, and so could not have been made by Sacandaga or any of
his warriors."
"Who, then----?" began Nahma, but he was interrupted by a quavering
note of ko-ko-anse (the little screech-owl) that came from no great
distance.
"It is a Huron call," whispered the Beaver; "answer it quickly." This
Nahma did, and the Beaver continued, "They are on the water and will
come to this point for further information. Do you remain here and take
care that they discover not thy presence. I will retire a little and
entice them or some of them to me, for I can speak the Huron tongue.
After that we must be guided by what will follow. Is it well?"
"It is well," whispered Nahma, as he crouched low beside a log, one
end of which extended into the water. He did not hear the Beaver take
his departure, but knew that he was gone. Then from off the river,
but close at hand, came again the tremulous cry of ko-ko-anse. It was
answered by the Beaver from a short distance inland, who in a voice
disguised as though by weakness cried,--
"Help me, brothers. Help me before I die."
"Who calls?" inquired a voice from the water.
"A Huron scout sorely wounded and helpless," answered the Beaver.
"Is he alone?"
"He is alone. There was another with him, but he was killed two days
since. Help or I perish."
"Art thou Chebacno or Wabensickewa?"
"I am Wabensickewa. Chebacno was slain by the Iroquois, who are even
now making ready a war-party. I hastened back to bring news of it, and
landed here to rest until darkness. While I slept a panther leaped on
my back. Before I could kill him he had so injured me that I cannot
walk. Also are my eyes blinded so that I cannot see. I have a canoe
that you will find at the water's edge, if indeed the wind has not
drifted it away. I have called many times, and was about to give over
calling when your answer came to lend me new strength. Now, then, my
brothers, come quickly, for I have much to tell before I die."
A moment later Nahma felt a slight jar pass through the log against
which he lay and heard a few whispered words of consultation. Then two
figures stepped ashore and, passing so close to him that he could have
touched them, noiselessly entered the forest. He waited for a moment
and then cautiously lifted his head. Against the faint gleam of water
he could distinguish the black bulk of a canoe and see that it still
held two other figures who sat motionless. Slowly he raised his bow
with a stone-headed arrow fitted to its string until one of the sitting
figures was fairly covered. Then he waited with tense muscles and a
heart that seemed like to burst with its furious beating. From behind
him came a low moaning that he knew was made by the Beaver to deceive
his enemies.
Suddenly the oppressive silence was broken by the twang of a bowstring
that was instantly followed by fierce yells. High above these rose the
defiant war-cry of the Iroquois, but its last note was cut short and
ended in a choking gurgle.
Somehow Nahma managed to hear these things, though he was at the same
time intensely busy with affairs of his own. At the first intimation of
a struggle behind him he had let fly his ready arrow, and one of the
two figures in the canoe dropped heavily forward. The other, seeing
what he had supposed was a log suddenly endowed with life and leaping
towards him, uttered a cry of terror, sprang overboard, and disappeared
beneath the black waters. While Nahma tossed the limp form of the other
Huron from the canoe preparatory to going in pursuit of this swimmer, a
rustling among the bushes warned him to make good his own escape while
yet he might, and giving the canoe a great shove, he leaped aboard.
As the craft shot out into the open a voice hailed it from the shore;
but as the words were spoken in the Huron tongue, Nahma made no answer.
He hesitated for a moment, wondering whether it might not be the Beaver
who called; but with a repetition of the demand he knew that that was
not the case. He was confirmed in this belief by hearing a slight
splash from close at hand, a stifled exclamation, and a few whispered
words. Evidently the swimmer who had made so hasty an exit from the
canoe had been encouraged by the voice of a friend to gain the land,
and now the two were once more in communication.
What had become of the Beaver? Recalling the Iroquois war-cry and
its sadly suggestive ending, Nahma had little doubt that he had been
overcome and killed. He hated to think of deserting his comrade without
knowing for a certainty whether he were alive or dead, and yet to
attempt a landing in face of two enemies, and perhaps three, would be
an act of folly. His canoe had drifted out so far that they could not
see him in his present position, but it would be almost impossible to
gain the shore anywhere in that vicinity without detection.
While in this state of indecision, which in reality lasted but a few
seconds, he heard faint and far away the cry of a whippoorwill. Twice
was it uttered, and then again after a short interval. It must be the
signal of Sacandaga, since it came from up the lake. Doubtless it had
been made in answer to the Beaver's far-reaching war-cry. In another
moment Nahma's canoe, impelled by a noiseless paddle, was speeding in
that direction. He dared not at once reply to the signal for fear of
drawing a flight of Huron arrows; but as soon as he believed himself
beyond range of these he rested on his paddle and sent far across the
lake the vibrant cry of wah-o-nai-sa once and then twice.
A full minute elapsed before the answer came, and then he was startled
by its nearness. Had he not known better, he would have sworn that
it was uttered by a bird in flight while passing directly above him.
Allowing his craft to drift, he listened and heard the quick dip of
many paddles. A fleet of canoes was rushing towards him, and, as he
began to distinguish their vague outlines, he uttered a low call to
attract attention.
"Who is it?" demanded the voice of Sacandaga, sharply, as the speed of
the oncoming canoes was checked.
"It is Massasoit," answered the lad.
"Where is Grinning Beaver, thy companion? Did he utter the war-cry of
the Iroquois that came to us as we were entering our canoes for a night
of travel?"
"I fear the Beaver is dead," replied Nahma. "And if so, he was killed
even with the sounding of his war-cry."
"Who killed him?" demanded Sacandaga, fiercely.
"The Hurons."
"How many are there?"
"Only four did we encounter. Of these I saw one fall, and believe that
the Beaver, who was separated from me, killed another. One leaped into
the water and one I know escaped from the Beaver."
"Were you on land or on the water?"
"We were on land, and this is the canoe in which the Hurons came."
"Where did it happen?"
"At the beginning of a river that leads to the wide waters lying
towards the rising sun."
"What know you of these wide waters? Have you been to them?"
"Shortly before the coming of darkness were we there, and we turned
back to bring news of the war-party that we saw."
"Hurons?"
"Hurons, my father, and like the leaves of a tree for numbers. Also
they have with them an Oki to make timid the hearts of their enemies."
"What mean you by an Oki?"
With this Nahma described as well as he could the strange being seen by
himself and the Beaver, and all who could get within hearing listened
to his words with breathless attention. When Nahma declared that the
apparition, though seen on a headland, still gleamed with wetness as
though just emerged from the lake, his auditors were deeply impressed.
Only Sacandaga was incredulous, and appeared to treat the incident as
of small account.
"It is but a Huron trick!" he exclaimed, that all might hear. "They are
too cowardly to fight like men, but have prepared an image with the
hope that sight of it will turn our blood to water. It is well, though,
that we have learned of this thing and know what to expect. Now let us
find whether the Beaver is alive or dead, and if the Huron dogs have
indeed slain him, bitterly shall he be avenged before we are done with
them."
So Nahma guided the Iroquois canoes to the place where he had uttered
that first fateful call of the whippoorwill, and Sacandaga, with half
a dozen warriors, made a landing on the very log beside which he had
lain.
It took them but a few minutes to discover the body of their late
comrade cold in death and scalped; but there was no trace of those who
had perpetrated the deed. If he had indeed killed one of them, the
others had either hidden the body or taken it away.
Having learned these things and thirsting for vengeance, the Iroquois
re-entered their canoes and glided silently down-stream towards the
place where their enemies were encamped.