A MEETING OF DEADLY FOES
After carrying their canoes around the two waterfalls that obstruct
the outlet of Lake George, the Iroquois finally glided like so many
night-shadows out onto the surface of Lake Champlain. Then, guided by
the son of Longfeather, they approached the place where he had seen
the Hurons. Sacandaga had entered the canoe of the young scout that he
might learn more fully what had happened during the past two days; also
his place was in the leading canoe, that from it he might direct the
movements of his followers, who were now nearly two hundred in number.
He had thought of attempting a night surprise of the northern invaders
by attacking their camp under cover of darkness; but this plan was
dismissed almost as soon as formed, for he remembered the prophecy of
Kaweras. The fight in which the Iroquois were to be successful must
take place in broad daylight and on a fair morning. The battle might
not, therefore, be waged at night, nor even on the morrow, unless it
were a day of cloudless sunshine. At the same time the Hurons must be
given no chance for escape, and to compel them to remain where they
were he stationed his force at the mouth of the cove in which lay their
fleet. This position was taken in silence and, it was thought, without
attracting attention.
That the men from the north had, however, received notice of their
enemies' coming and were keenly on the alert to meet them was soon
proved by a jeering hail from the land.
"Are the bark-eaters fish that they remain in the water? If they call
themselves men, why do they not come on shore and accept the welcome
awaiting them?"
To this taunt the Iroquois replied with a chorus of fierce yells and
savage intimations of what would happen when they got ready to enter
the camp of the Huron dogs.
So the night was spent in a brisk exchange of taunts, jeers, threats,
and insulting remarks well calculated to increase the bitterness of
the hate already existing between the two tribes. The Iroquois even
betrayed their knowledge of the mysterious being whom the Hurons had
called to their aid, and expressed the utmost contempt for him. To this
those on shore made no reply except to advise the Iroquois to call upon
their own gods for the aid they would surely need on the morrow.
"Something has given them courage," remarked Sacandaga, "for never have
I known Hurons to talk so bravely in the presence of Iroquois. But we
will see whether their boldness can stand the test of daylight."
At length the wished-for dawn arrived, and by its earliest gleams
Sacandaga landed his force at a point beyond arrow-shot of the Huron
camp and bade them light fires for the preparation of breakfast. He was
well aware of the fighting value of a full stomach, and was too wise a
leader not to seek every possible advantage even against a foe whom he
despised.
Nor were the Hurons less ready to make the most of this opportunity for
preparing cooked food, the first time they had dared do so in several
days. Thus both parties remained hidden from each other, except through
the eyes of their watchful scouts, until the sun was an hour high. Not
only did Sacandaga wish to refresh his men by this rest, but he was
determined not to begin fighting until assured of conditions propitious
to his undertaking. With the weather, however, he had every reason to
be pleased, for never was a fairer morn. The sky was cloudless, the air
clear and crisp, the lake of a heavenly blue, and all nature was at its
best. As he looked about him he became elated over the certainty of his
forthcoming victory.
"The Hurons have never yet been able to stand before an equal number of
Iroquois," he said, "and to-day with all things in our favor it will
be strange indeed if we do not wipe them out. But we may not delay,
lest the spirits become angry and send their lightnings to punish our
indifference to the favors they have shown. Let us, then, get to work
and finish this business quickly, that we may the more speedily return
to our own people."
Although Sacandaga was one of the most skilful warriors of his time,
and well versed in all the tricks of his trade as practised by forest
fighters, he saw fit in the present instance to lead his painted
savages to the attack in a compact body. As the Hurons occupied the
centre of a large cleared space so wide as to place them beyond the
reach of arrows from forest covers, this plan was in a measure forced
upon him. At the same time he hoped to overawe the enemy and terrify
him by the number and ferocious appearance of his followers. So the
Iroquois, half naked, painted, befeathered, decked with bears' claws
and wolf-tails, dashed from the forest yelling and brandishing their
weapons, and advanced with a rush to where the Hurons awaited them.
The latter appeared terrified, and seemed to shrink from the impending
onslaught. Then their solid formation broke, leaving a wide gap,
from which stepped a single figure. The Iroquois were not more than
fifty paces distant; but at sight of this apparition they came to a
sudden halt and stood as though petrified with amazement. The figure
confronting them was indeed that described by Massasoit, only it loomed
up larger than they had expected, and gleamed with a dazzling lustre in
the bright sunlight. It had the form of a man, but its face was covered
with a growth of hair that hung down on its breast.
The person who appeared so remarkable to the denizens of the forest
that they deemed him a god was none other than the intrepid French
explorer Samuel de Champlain, founder of the city of Quebec. With but
two followers he had been induced to accompany a war-party of Canadian
Indians on their foray into Iroquois territory, and was thus the first
of his race to look upon the waters of the noble lake that has ever
since borne his name.
For a few moments the Iroquois gazed awe-stricken upon this first white
man they had ever seen. Then, relying upon the prophecy of Kaweras,
that only thunder and lightning could prevent them from winning a
victory, they bent their bows and let fly a cloud of arrows. Many of
these were aimed at the white man standing so boldly before them,
but, to their dismay, he remained unharmed. Nahma in particular, who
had shot at the very centre of the shining breastplate, was amazed and
terrified to see his arrow, after striking, bound back as though it had
encountered a wall of rock.
But scant time was given for the consideration of this marvel; for,
even as they shot at him, the mysterious being brought into position
a strange-looking stick that he carried until it was pointed directly
at them. Then came a flash of lightning, a roar of thunder, a cloud of
smoke, and a dozen of the Iroquois fell to the ground as though smitten
by the wrath of God. As was afterwards proved, but two of them were
killed and one--Sacandaga--was grievously wounded, while the others had
fallen from sheer fright. At the same time the Hurons rushed forward
with triumphant yells and a flight of arrows.
For a moment the Iroquois wavered and seemed about to fly. Then Nahma,
son of Longfeather, sprang to the front with a loud cry, and, swinging
a stone war-club above his head, made straight for the thunder-god
who had wrought such havoc. Champlain was in the act of drawing his
sword when he was staggered by a terrific blow that would surely have
killed him but for the steel cap that he wore. Before he could recover,
and ere a second blow could be delivered, there came another flash of
lightning accompanied by its thunderous roar from a clump of bushes at
one side, and two more Iroquois were stricken with sudden death.
At this fresh proof that the all-powerful spirits were indeed fighting
against them the hearts of the Iroquois melted, and they fled from the
field a panic-stricken mob. Even Nahma joined in the mad flight; but he
paused long enough to pick up his wounded chieftain, whom he hoped to
be able to carry as far as the canoes.
At their heels streamed the exultant Hurons, striking down the
fugitives by the score. One of these drove a spear through the body of
Sacandaga; and Nahma, staggering under his burden, was knocked down by
the force of the blow. As he disengaged himself from the dead sachem
and regained his feet he found himself once more face to face with the
awful being who held in his hands the thunders and lightning of a
Manitou.
At this moment Champlain, who had found time to reload his musket,
fired a second shot into the ranks of the flying Iroquois. Ere
its smoke could lift, Nahma, frenzied with rage and reckless of
consequences, sprang upon the white man with uplifted knife. The
blow was urged with all the splendid strength of the young warrior's
arm, but it only bent the copper blade in his grasp and left him
defenceless. Ere he could renew his flight he was flung to the earth
and bound immovably with thongs of tough bark.
[Illustration: NAHMA SPRANG UPON THE WHITE MAN WITH UPLIFTED KNIFE]
Nahma's first battle was ended in utter defeat, but he did not feel
humiliated, for he believed that he had fought against immortal spirits
who could come to no harm from the hands of man. He only wondered
vaguely, as he lay awaiting the pleasure of his captors, why the Okis
should have ranged themselves on the side of the perfidious Hurons
instead of aiding the Iroquois, whom he then believed to be the most
nearly perfect of human beings.
About one-half the force that Sacandaga had led so confidently to
battle that morning reached the canoes and continued their flight
up the lake. The Hurons did not pursue them, for they were too busy
killing or taking captive those who were left behind.
By noon the whole affair was ended, and the triumphant Hurons, taking
with them twoscore of dejected prisoners, as many bloody Iroquois
scalps, and a number of canoes laden with spoils, set forth on their
return to the St. Lawrence.
With them went Champlain, still thrilled with the excitement of
fighting and killing, but already disgusted with the barbarities of
his savage allies. Could he have foreseen that his act of that day had
created a powerful enemy who for two hundred years to come would let
pass no opportunity for the killing of a Frenchman, his thoughts would
have been still more sombre.
In camp that night, while still occupied with his melancholy
reflections, he was accosted by one of his white companions, who said,--
"Look yonder, monsieur. They are about to punish in pretty fashion the
young devil who twice this day attempted to take thy life."