Produced by Roger Frank.
[Illustration: "THE CUSTOM IS THAT THE WITCH MUST DIE."]
THE TRAIL OF THE SENECA
By
JAMES A. BRADEN
AUTHOR OF
"CONNECTICUT BOYS IN THE WESTERN RESERVE,"
"FAR PAST THE FRONTIER," "CAPTIVES THREE," Etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY R. G. VOSBURGH
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
NEW YORK--AKRON, OHIO--CHICAGO
COPYRIGHT, 1907
by THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
Contents
CHAPTER I--THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL
CHAPTER II--A SENTENCE OF DEATH--ACCUSED OF WITCHCRAFT
CHAPTER III--THE WARNING
CHAPTER IV--WATCHED
CHAPTER V--IN DRIPPING RAIN AND DARKNESS
CHAPTER VI--"THE WITCH IS HIDDEN HERE."
CHAPTER VII--THE SECRET LEAD MINE
CHAPTER VIII--THE SALT SPRINGS--A STARTLING DISCOVERY
CHAPTER IX--THE EVIL POWER OF LONE-ELK
CHAPTER X--"MORE BULLETS, MORE LEAD."
CHAPTER XI--THE HIDDEN TOMAHAWK
CHAPTER XII--KINGDOM ALSO MAKES A DISCOVERY
CHAPTER XIII--THE SENECA OUTWITTED
CHAPTER XIV--THE MYSTERIOUS CAMP IN THE GULLY
CHAPTER XV--THE GIFT OF WHITE WAMPUM
CHAPTER XVI--A MIDNIGHT SUPPER
CHAPTER XVII--THE EXPLOSION
CHAPTER XVIII--FISHING BIRD IN TROUBLE
CHAPTER XIX--AN INTERVIEW WITH "MAD ANTHONY"
CHAPTER XX--DELIVERED TO THE DELAWARES
CHAPTER XXI--THE BURNING OF THE CABIN
CHAPTER XXII--THE MAN IN THE RAVINE
CHAPTER XXIII--ONE MYSTERY CLEARED AWAY
CHAPTER XXIV--WHO KILLED BIG BUFFALO
CHAPTER XXV--FAREWELL FOREVE
CHAPTER XXVI--DOWN THE SUN-KISSED SLOPE TOGETHER
ILLUSTRATIONS
"The custom is that the witch must die"
He kept his eyes on the Seneca unceasingly
He wheeled and sent the redskin sprawling
They asked him to go with them
CHAPTER I--THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL
A hatchet of stone, cumbersome and crude, but a dangerous weapon once,
though now it is only a silent memento of the days of Captain Pipe, of
Lone-Elk, of Fishing Bird, the scowling Big Buffalo and the graceful,
pretty Gentle Maiden as well, lies on my table as I write.
Of Captain Pipe, Big Buffalo and certain of the others, I have already
told you something;--but you have yet to hear of Lone-Elk, the
Seneca,--Lone-Elk, the outcast from the villages of his people,--bold
and strong yet crafty, deceitful, treacherous,--and still, withal as
ambitious and as vain an Indian as ever trod the long-ago forest
fastnesses.
It is of Lone-Elk that I am to tell you now. What part this tomahawk,
which lies upon my table, had in the story may later be revealed to you,
but as for that, it is not of great soon to feel the awful force of his
evil power, calmly fished from their canoe at the opposite side of the
water.
Never before had the Delawares prepared so lavishly for the fall
Thanksgiving. To celebrate the Festival of the Harvest when the corn and
the beans and the squashes, the tobacco and the nuts had been gathered
in was no new thing among them, but Lone-Elk had made the plans for a
far more elaborate entertainment this year than the people of Captain
Pipe's village were accustomed to have. And notwithstanding that the
Seneca was a wanderer from his own home country and might never go back
to his rightful tribe, the chief of the Delawares had allowed him to
assume the leadership in every arrangement for the happy occasion.
However, Lone-Elk well knew how best to prepare all things to please and
favor Captain Pipe, and he did not fail to see to it that the latter was
given many opportunities to display his dignity and his eloquence and
wisdom in the speech-making and addresses to the spirits during the
exercises in the Council House. What could be more natural, then, than
that the head Delaware should refuse to listen to those of his people
who would have criticised the policy of allowing a comparative stranger'
to direct and lead them?
The wandering October breezes scarcely rippled the waters of the little
lake. They whispered in the half-bare branches of the trees and seemed
to play at hide-and-seek with the fallen leaves. The blue smoke curling
up from the hole in the roof of the Council House was scarcely moved by
them. All was serenely quiet in and about the Indian town on this autumn
day in the year 1792, excepting only in the Council House itself, where
all the Delawares and even a few Mingoes, or stragglers from other
tribes or towns, were come together for Thanksgiving. All had come but
one.
Even the most ardent of the young braves had put aside their talk of
war--all summer long they had talked of little else--to participate in
the celebration, and each had brought a contribution of meat of his own
killing for the feast which was to follow the speech-making and
offerings to the Great Spirit. All the youngsters, the boys and girls of
the village, were there. The old men and women, also, were present.
Captain Pipe of course was there and Fishing Bird and Long Hair and
Little Wolf. Of all the people of the town upon the lake only one was
missing from the ceremonies.
A solemn scene it was when Hopocon, or Pipe, for the former was his
Indian name, in his imposing chieftain's costume stood before the little
fire in the center of the long, low bark building and sprinkled broken
tobacco leaves upon the coals that their incense rising might bear his
words on high. It was an impressive scene as well, and though the number
present was large, the greatest quiet prevailed.
It was also an interesting sight. The warriors and bucks were in their
brightest and newest kilts, leggins and moccasins, with braided belts
bound like sashes about their waists or over their shoulders. Some wore
the head-dress of colored eagle feathers; some did not. Lone-Elk was of
the former and in addition a piece of silver, supported by a cord of
leather about his neck, dangled against his broad, bronze chest, while
at his left knee hung a rattle made of deer's hoofs.
Among the more elderly Indians there was less display in dress, but many
of the young women were in holiday raiment, adding a still further touch
of color to the picture. Among the latter was Gentle Maiden, the
daughter of Captain Pipe. A loose gown of doeskin worked with many
colored beads and the quills of porcupines hung from her shoulders to
her ankles. On her feet were ornamented moccasins and above them
leggins. Two long strings of beads were suspended about her neck,
contrasting in color with the deep black of two heavy plaits of hair,
falling nearly to her waist.
The leaves of tobacco crimpled and turned to flame on the glowing, hot
coals.
"Great Spirit, listen to our words. We burn this tobacco. The smoke
rises to thee. We thank thee for thy great goodness in causing our
mother [the earth] to bring forth her fruits. We thank thee that our
supporters [corn, beans and squashes] have yielded abundantly.
"Great Spirit, our words continue to flow toward thee. Preserve us from
all danger. Preserve our aged men. Preserve our mothers. Preserve our
warriors. Preserve our children. May our thanks, rising with the smoke
of this tobacco, be pleasing to thee."
Thus spoke Captain Pipe. Save only for the sound of his voice, the
crackling of the tobacco upon the fire, and the soughing of the wind
there was perfect silence in the Council House.
Only when the address was finished did there come a stir of animation
among the assembled Indians. Closer to the walls, farther from the fire,
which was in the center of the floor, they crowded then, while out from
among them came those who were to join in the dance of Thanksgiving.
There were fourteen of these, including Lone-Elk and other warriors and
behind the men came Gentle Maiden and four other young women--fourteen
in all.
Two singers seated near the center of the large room began a weird,
wildly musical chant, their words telling of thanks to the Great Spirit,
while in accompaniment to their voices they beat the air with rattles
made of the shells of turtles.
As the singing began the dance was started and with many graceful
swayings of his body, lifting his feet but little above the ground and
often striking his heels upon the earth in keeping with the music's
time, Lone-Elk led his followers round and round.
Unlike the dance of war, there were no violent expressions of
countenance or movements of the body; no striking or attacking of
imaginary foes. Every step was gentle and every motion was graceful.
Thus for two or three minutes the dance continued. The assembly looked
on with quiet rapture, pleased and happy.
Presently the music ceased, the dancing was discontinued and while the
dancers walked slowly and more slowly in a wide circle around the fire,
an old man arose and spoke. It was Neobaw, wrinkled and lean. He wore no
headdress or other ornament and his clothing consisted only of
moccasins, buckskin trousers and a faded red blanket which he wore over
his shoulders. His coarse and tangled hair hung loosely over his ears
and about his shoulders. Neohaw was a medicine-man and was both feared
and respected. His words were:
"We return thanks to Heno [thunder] for his protection from reptiles and
from witches and that he has given us his rain."
The old man spoke very slowly but with a show of superior learning, as
if he and no other was really fit to address so important a spirit. As
he resumed his seat the singing and dancing began again and for an
interval continued as before.
Again, at the conclusion of the music, an aged warrior rose. His voice
quavered and his body trembled with its feebleness beneath the robe of
fur about his shoulders, but his eyes shone with fervor as he said: "We
return thanks to Gaoh [the wind] that by his moving the air disease has
been carried from us."
Then as before the music and the dance were resumed and were followed by
still another short but earnest expression of thanksgiving, each part of
the exercises appearing in its proper order as Lone-Elk had planned and
directed, and as many of the Delawares knew of their own knowledge that
the ancient custom was.
Thanksgiving to the lakes and rivers, to the sun and moon and stars, to
the trees and flowers and all nature was expressed in the many brief
addresses, till at last the singers' voices were hoarse and the dancers
were wet with perspiration, and weary.
An address by Captain Pipe in which he once again thanked the Great
Spirit for goodness to the Delawares and for all which was theirs,
concluded the religious ceremonies of the Harvest Festival and slowly
the Indians dispersed from the Council House. Some went away to games
and some to their lodges, while others loitered in and about the
village. For the women had all been listening to the speeches and
watching the dancers and had yet to prepare the feast which was to
follow, continuing into the night.
By himself Lone-Elk wandered from the village. Strolling down the slight
descent to the edge of the lake, he took his way along the narrow strip
of sand and sod of which the beach consisted and soon was out of sight.
The music and dance had recalled strongly to his mind his home among the
Senecas and those earlier days before he was an exile.
An audible "Ugh" came from Lone-Elk's lips and he scowled as if out of
patience with himself. Turning then and leaving the water's side, he
pushed through some brush to the higher bank above. On this elevation he
paused, and turning about gazed carelessly over the lake. Far across its
smooth surface he could see a canoe and two young men in it.
"Palefaces," he murmured and another "Ugh," this time in a tone of
contempt, parted his tight-set lips. For a second or two he watched the
little craft and its occupants, then strode slowly into the forest.
A straggling half circle of perhaps a mile the Seneca's feet marked in
the freshly fallen leaves while he made his way indirectly toward the
village. As he drew near his listless step quickened and his reflective,
downcast eyes became alert and sharp. Harsh tones were rising from a
group of braves not far from him. Then his approach was noticed.
A young Delaware with only a fringed kilt and leggins covering his
nakedness, turned and pointed a finger at the Seneca menacingly, but
quickly another seized the outstretched hand and pressed it down. By
this time the approaching Indian was close at hand.
"Does Lone-Elk know of Big Buffalo?" the foremost of the Delawares
inquired. "The Seneca left the village to walk beside the water. Now he
comes back from a different direction. Does he know of Big Buffalo? Know
that Big Buffalo is dead in the bushes that the water runs among? Little
Wolf is here. Little Wolf saw Big Buffalo dead--found the Buffalo dead
among the bushes by the water--found Big Buffalo killed."