IN GARRISON
The end of the month was approaching, and as yet we had received no
marching orders, although every evening the heavy-laden batteaux
continued to arrive from Albany, and every morning the slow wagon train
left for the lake, escorted by details from Schott's irregulars, and
Franklin's Wyoming militia.
But our veteran rifle battalion did not stir, although all the other
regular regiments had marched to Otsego; and Colonel Gansevoort's 3rd
N. Y. Regiment of the Line, which was now under orders to remain and
guard the Valley, had not yet returned, although early in the week an
Oneida runner had come in with letters for Mrs. Bleecker and Mrs.
Lansing from their husbands, saying that the regiment was on its way to
the fort, and that they, the ladies, should continue at Croghan's as
long as Morgan's Rifles were remaining there in garrison.
Cooler weather had set in with an occasional day of heavy summer rain;
and now our garrison life became exceedingly comfortable, especially
agreeable because of the ladies' hospitality at Croghan's new house.
Except for Lois and for them my duties on special detail would have
become most irksome to me, shut off from the regiment as I was, with
only the Mohican to keep an eye on, and nothing else whatever to do
except to write at sundown every evening in my daily journal.
Not that I had not come to care a great deal for the Siwanois; indeed,
I was gradually becoming conscious of a very genuine affection for this
tall Mohican, who, in the calm confidence of our blood-brotherhood, was
daily revealing his personality to me in a hundred naive and different
ways, and with a simplicity that alternately touched and amused me.
For, after his own beliefs and his own customs, he was every inch a
man--courteous, considerate, proud, generous, loyal, and brave. Which
seem to me to be the general qualifications for a gentleman.
Except the Seneca Mountain Snakes, the nations of the Long House,
considering their beliefs, customs, and limited opportunities, were not
a whit inferior to us as men. And the Mohicans have always been their
peers.
For, contrary to the general and ignorant belief, except for the
Senecas, the Iroquois were civilised people; their Empire had more
moral reasons for its existence than any other empire I ever heard of;
because the League which bound these nations into a confederacy, and
which was called by them "The Great Peace," had been established, not
for the purpose of waging war, but to prevent it.
Until men of my own blood and colour had taught them treachery and
ferocity and deceit, they had been, as a confederacy, guiltless of
these things. Before the advent of the white man, a lie among the
Iroquois was punished by death; also, among them, unchastity was
scarcely known so rare was it. Even now, that brutal form of violence
toward women, white or red, either in time of war or peace, was
absolutely non-existent. No captive woman needed to fear that. Only the
painted Tories--the blue-eyed Indians--remained to teach the Iroquois
that such wickedness existed. For, as they said of themselves, the
People of the Morning were "real men."
They had a federal constitution; they had civil and political
ceremonies as wisely conceived and as dignified as they were
impressive, romantic, and beautiful. Their literature, historical and
imaginative, was handed down from generation to generation; and if
memory were at fault, there were the wampum belts in their archives to
corroborate tradition.
Their federal, national, tribal, sept, and clan systems were devised
solely to prevent international decadence and fraternal strife; their
secret societies were not sinister; their festivals and dances not
immodest; their priesthood not ignoble. They were sedentary and
metropolitan people--dwellers in towns--not nomads; they had cattle and
fowls, orchards and grain-fields, gardens for vegetables, corrals for
breeding stock. They had many towns--some even of two hundred houses,
of which dwellings many were cellared, framed, and glazed.
They had their well-built and heavily stockaded forts which, because
the first Frenchmen called them chateaux, were still known to us as
"castles."
Their family life was, typically, irreproachable; they were tender and
indulgent husbands and fathers, charitable neighbours, gay and
good-humoured among their friends; and their women were deferred to,
respected, and honoured, and had a distinct and important role to play
in the social and political practices of the Confederacy.
If they, by necessity, were compelled to decimate the Eries, crush the
Hurons, and subdue the Lenape and "make women of them," the latter term
meant only that the Lenape could not be trusted to bear arms as allies.
Yet, with truest consideration and courtesy toward these conquered
ones, and with a kindly desire to disguise and mitigate a necessary and
humiliating restriction, the Iroquois had recognised their priesthood
and their clans; had invested the Lenape with the fire-rights at
Federal Councils; and had even devised for them a diplomatic role. They
were henceforward the ambassadors of the Confederacy, the diplomats and
political envoys of the Long House.
And if the Delawares never forgot or forgave their position as a
subject nation, yet had the Iroquois done all they dared to soften a
nominal servitude which they believed was vitally necessary to the
peace and well-being of the entire Iroquois Confederacy.
Of this kind of people, then, were the Iroquois, naturally--not, alas,
wholly so after the white man had drugged them with rum, cheated them,
massacred them, taught them every vice, inoculated them with every
disease.
For I must bear witness to the truth of this, spite of the incredulity
of my own countrymen; and, moreover, it is true that the Mohicans were,
in all virtuous and noble things, the peers of the civilised people of
the Long House.
Those vile, horse-riding, murdering, thieving nomad Indians of the
plains--those homeless, wandering, plundering violators of women and
butchers of children, had nothing whatever in common with our forest
Indians of the East--were a totally different race of people, mentally,
spiritually, and physically. And these two species must ever remain
distinct--the Gens des Prairies and the Gens du Bois.
Only the Senecas resembled the degraded robbers of the Western plains
in having naturally evil and debased propensities, and entertaining
similar gross and monstrous customs and most wicked superstitions. But
in the Long House the Senecas were really aliens; every nation felt
this, from the Canienga and Oneida peoples, whose skin was almost as
white as our own, to the dusky Onondaga, Tuscarora, and Cayuga--darker
people, but no less civilised than the tall, stalwart, and handsome
keepers of the Eastern Gate.
I have ventured to say this much concerning the Iroquois so that it may
better be understood among my own countrymen how it was possible for
me, a white man of unmixed blood, to love and respect a red man of
blood as pure and unmixed as mine. A dog-trader learns many things
about dogs by dealing in them; an interpreter who deals with men never,
ultimately, mistakes a real man, white or red.
My isolation from the regiment, as I say, was now more than compensated
by the presence of the ladies at Croghan's house. And Lois had now been
lodged with them for more than a week. How much of her sad history Mrs.
Bleecker had seen fit to impart to Lana Helmer and Angelina Lansing I
did not know. But it seemed to be generally understood in the garrison
that Lois had arrived from Albany on Mrs. Bleecker's invitation, and
that the girl was to remain permanently under her protection.
The romantic fact that Lois was the orphan of white captives to the
Senecas, and had living neither kith nor kin, impressed Angelina
sentimentally, and Lana with an insatiable curiosity, if not with
suspicion.
As for Boyd, he had not recognised her at all, in her powder, patches,
and pretty gowns. That was perfectly plain to Lois and to me. And I
could understand it, too, for I hardly recognised her myself. And after
the novelty of meeting her had worn off he paid her no particular
attention--no doubt because of his headlong, impatient, and undisguised
infatuation for Lana, which, with her own propensity for daring
indiscretion, embarrassed us all more or less.
No warrant had been given me to interfere; I was on no such intimate
terms with Boyd; and as for Lana, she heeded Mrs. Bleecker's cautious
sermons as lightly as a bluebird, drifting, heeds the soft air that
thrills with his careless flight-song.
What officers there were, regular and militia, who had not yet gone to
Otsego Lake, came frequently to Croghan's to pay their respects; and
every afternoon there were most agreeable parties at Croghan's; nor was
our merriment any less restrained for our lack of chairs and tables and
crockery to contain the cakes and nougats, syllabubs and custards, that
the black wench, Gusta, contrived for us. Neither were there glasses
sufficient to hold the sweet native wines, or enough cups to give each
a dish of the rare tea which had come from France, and which Mr. Hake
had sent to me from Albany, the thoughtful soul!
If I did not entirely realise it at the time, nevertheless it was a
very happy week for me. To see Lois at last where she belonged; to see
her welcomed, respected, and admired by the ladies and gentlemen at
Croghan's--courted, flattered, sought after in a company so
respectable, and so naturally and sweetly holding her own among them
without timidity or effort, was to me a pleasure so wonderful that even
the quick, light shafts of jealousy--which ignoble but fiery darts were
ever buzzing about my ass's ears, sometimes stinging me--could not
fatally wound my satisfaction or my deep thankfulness that her dreadful
and wretched trials were ended at last, after so many years.
What seemed to Angelina and Lana an exceedingly quick intimacy between
Lois and me sentimentally interested the former, and, as I have said,
aroused the mischievous, yet not unkindly, curiosity of the latter.
Like all people who are deep in intrigue themselves, any hint of it in
others excited her sophisticated curiosity. So when we concluded it
might be safe to call each other Lois and Euan, Lana's curiosity leaped
over all bounds to the barriers of impertinence.
There was, as usual, a respectable company gathered at Croghan's that
afternoon; and a floating-island and tea and a punch. Lois, in her
usual corner by the northern window, was so beset and surrounded by
officers of ours, and Schott's, Franklin's, and Spalding's, and
staff-officers halted for the day, that I had quite despaired of a word
with her for the present; and had somewhat sulkily seated myself on the
stairs to bide my time. What between love, jealousy, and hurt pride
that she had not instantly left her irksome poppinjays at the mere
sight of me, and flown to me under the noses of them all, I was in two
minds whether I would remain in the house or no--so absurd and horridly
unbalanced is a young man's mind when love begins meddling with and
readjusting its accustomed mechanism. Long, long were my ears in those
first days of my heart's undoing!
Solemnly brooding on woman's coldness, fickleness, and general
ingratitude, and silently hating every gallant who crowded about her to
hold her cup, her fan, her plate, pick up her handkerchief or a bud
fallen from her corsage, I could not, however, for the life of me keep
my eyes from the cold-blooded little jilt.
She had evidently been out walking before I arrived, for she still wore
her coquette garden-hat--the chipstraw affair, with the lilac ribbons
tied in a bow under her rounded chin; and a white, thin gown, most
ravishing, and all bestrewn with sprigs and posies, which displayed her
smooth and delicately moulded throat above the low-pinned kerchief, and
her lovely arms from the creamy elbow lace down to her finger tips.
The French hair-powder she wore was not sprinkled in any vulgar
profusion; it merely frosted the rich curls, making her pink checks
pinker and her grey eyes a darker and purpler grey, and rendering her
lips fresh and dewy in vivid contrast. And she wore a patch on her
smooth left cheek-bone. And it was a most deadly thing to do, causing
me a sentimental anguish unspeakable.
As I sat there worshipping, enchanted, resentful, martyred, alternately
aching with loneliness and devotion, and at the same time heartily
detesting every man on whom she chanced to smile, comes a sly and
fragrant breath in my ear. And, turning, I discover Lana perched on a
step of the stairs above me, her mocking eyes brilliant with unkind
delight.
"Poor swain a-sighing!" said she. "Love is sure a thorny way, Euan."
"Have a care for your own skirts then," said I ungraciously.
"My skirts!"
"Yours, Lanette. Your petticoat needs mending now."
"If love no more than rend my petticoat I ought to be content," she
said coolly.
Silenced by her effrontery, which truly passed all bounds, I merely
glared at her, and presently she laughed outright.
"Broad-brim," said she, "I was not born yesterday. Have no worries
concerning me, but look to yourself, for I think you have been sorely
hit at last. And God knows such wounds go hard with a truly worthy and
good young man."
"I make nothing of your nonsense," said I coldly.
"What? Nothing? And yonder sits its pretty and romantic inspiration? I
am glad I have lived to see the maid who dealt you your first wound!"
"Do you fancy that I am in love?" said I defiantly.
"Why not admit what your lop-ears and moony mien yell aloud to the
world entire?"
"Have you no common sense, Lana? Do you imagine a man can fall in love
in a brief week?"
"I have been wondering," said she coolly, "whether you have ever before
seen her."
"Continue to wonder," said I bluntly.
"I do.... Because you call her 'Lois' so readily--and you came near it
the first day you had apparently set eyes on her. Also, she calls you
'Euan' with a tripping lack of hesitation--even with a certain natural
tenderness--"
I turned on her, exasperated:
"Come," said I, controlling my temper with difficulty, "I am tired of
playing butt to your silly arrows."
"Oh, how you squirm, Euan! Cupid and I are shooting you full as a
porcupine!"
"If Cupid is truly shooting," said I with malice, "you had best hunt
cover, Lana. For I think already a spent shaft or two has bruised you,
flying at hazard from his bow."
She smilingly ignored what I had said.
"Tell me," she persisted, "are you not at her pretty feet already? Is
not your very soul down on its worthy marrow-bones before this girl?"
"Is not every gallant gentleman who comes to Croghan's at the feet of
Miss de Contrecoeur?"
"One or two are in the neighbourhood of my feet," she remarked.
"Aye, and too near to please me," said I.
"Who, for example?"
"Boyd--for example," I replied, giving her a hearty scowl.
"Oh!" she drawled airily. "He is not yet near enough my ankles to
please me."
"You little fool," said I between my teeth, "do you think you can play
alley-taw and cat's-cradle with a man like that?"
Then a cold temper flashed in her eyes.
"A man like that," she repeated. "And pray, dear friend, what manner of
man may be 'a man like that?'"
"One who can over-match you at your own silly sport--and carry the game
to its sinister finish! I warn you, have a care of yourself, Lanette.
Sir John is a tyro to this man."
She said hotly: "If I should say to him what you have but now said to
me, he would have you out for your impertinence!"
"If he continues to conduct as he has begun," said I, "the chances are
that I may have him out for his effrontery."
"What! Who gave you the privilege of interfering in my affairs, you
silly ninny?"
"So that you display ordinary prudence, I have no desire to interfere,"
I retorted angrily.
"And if I do not! If I am imprudent! If I choose to be audacious,
reckless, shameless! Is it your affair?"
"Suppose I make it mine?"
"You are both silly and insulting; do you know it?"
Flushed, breathing rapidly, we sat facing each other; and I could have
shaken the little vixen, so furious was I at myself as well as at her.
"Very well," said I, "continue to play with hell-fire if you like. I'm
done with you and with him, too."
"And I with you," she said between her teeth. "And if you were not the
honest-meaning marplot that you are, Mr. Boyd should teach you a
lesson!"
"I'll teach him one now," said I, springing to my feet and gone quite
blind with rage so that I was obliged to stand still a moment before I
could discover Boyd where he stood by the open door, trying to converse
with Mrs. Lansing, but watching us both with unfeigned amazement.
"Euan!"
Lana's voice arrested me, and I halted and turned, striving to remember
decency and that I was conducting like a very boor. This was neither
the time nor place to force a quarrel on any man.... And Lana was
right. I had no earthly warrant to interfere if she gave me none;
perhaps no spiritual warrant either.
Still shaken and confused by the sudden fury which had invaded me, and
now sullenly mortified by my own violence and bad manners, I stood with
one hand resting on the banisters, forcing myself to look at Lana and
take the punishment that her scornful eyes were dealing me.
"Are you coming to your senses?" she asked coldly.
"Yes," I said. "I ask your pardon."
A moment more we gazed at each other, then suddenly her under lip
trembled and her eyes filled.
"Forgive me," she stammered. "You are a better friend to me
than--many.... I am not angry, Euan."
At that I could scarce control my own voice:
"Lanette--little Lana! Find it in your generous heart to offer me my
pardon, for I have conducted like a yokel and a fool! But--but I really
do love you."
"I know it, Euan. I did not know it was in me to use you so cruelly.
Let us be friends again. Will you?"
"Will you, Lana?"
"Willingly--oh, with all my heart! And--I am not very happy, Euan. Bear
with me a little.... There is a letter come from Clarissa; perhaps it
is that which edges my tongue and temper--the poor child is so sad and
lonely, so wretchedly unhappy--and Sir John riding the West with all
his hellish crew! And she has no news of him--and asks it of me----"
She descended a step and stood on the stair beside me, looking up at me
very sweetly, and resting her hand lightly on my shoulder--a caress so
frank and unconcealed that it meant no more then its innocent
significance implied. But at that moment, by chance, I encountered
Lois's eyes fixed on me in cold surprise. And, being a fool, and
already unnerved, I turned red as a pippin, as though I were guilty,
and looked elsewhere till the heat cooled from my cheeks.
"You dear boy," said Lana gently. "If there were more men like you and
fewer like--Sir John, there'd be no Clarissas in the world." She
hesitated, then smiled audaciously. "Perhaps no Lanas either.... There!
Go and court your sweetheart. For she gave me a look but now which
boded ill for me or for any other maid or matron who dares lay finger
on a single thrum of your rifle-shirt."
"You are wrong," said I. "She cares nothing for me in that manner."
"What? How do you know, you astounding boy?"
"I know it well enough."
Lana shot a swift and curious look straight across the room at Lois,
who now did not seem to be aware of her.
"She is beautiful... and--not made of marble," said Lana softly to
herself. "Good God, no! Scarcely made of marble.... And some man will
awaken her one day.... And when he does he will unchain Aphrodite
herself--or I guess wrong." She turned to me smiling. "That girl yonder
has never loved."
"Why do you think so?"
"I know it; but I can not tell you why I know it. Women divine where
men reason; and we are oftener right than you.... Are you truly in love
with her?"
"I can not speak of such things to you," I muttered.
"Lord! Is it as serious as that already? Is it arrived at the holy and
sacred stage?"
"Lana! For heaven's sake----"
"I am not jeering; I am realising the solemn fact that you have
progressed a certain distance in love and are arrived at a definite and
well-known milestone.... And I am merely wondering how far she has
progressed--or if she has as yet journeyed any particular distance at
all--or any more than set out upon the road. For the look she shot at
me convinces me that she has started--in fact, has reached that turn in
the thorny path where she is less inclined to defend herself than her
own possessions. You seem to be one of them."
Boyd, who had awaited the termination of our tete-a-tete with an
impatience perfectly apparent to anybody who chanced to observe him,
now seemed able to endure it no longer; and as he approached us I felt
Lana's hand on my arm tremble slightly; but the cool smile still curved
her lips.
She received him with a shaft of light raillery, and he laughed and
retorted in kind, and then we three sauntered over to the table where
was the floating island in a huge stone bowl of Indian ware.
Around this, and the tea and punch, everybody was now gathering, and
there was much talking and laughing and offering of refreshment to the
ladies, and drinking of humourous or gallant toasts.
I remember that Boyd, being called upon, instantly contrived some
impromptu verses amid general approbation--for his intelligence was as
lithe and graceful as his body was agile. And our foppish Ensign, who
was no dolt by a long shot either, made a most deft rondeau in flattery
of the ladies, turning it so neatly and unexpectedly that we all drew
our side-arms and, thrusting them aloft, cheered both him and the fair
subjects of his nimble verses.
I would have been glad to shine in that lively and amusing competition,
but possessed no such desirable talents, and so when called upon
contrived merely a commonplace toast which all applauded as in duty
bound.
And I saw Lois looking at me with an odd, smiling expression, not one
thing or another, yet scarcely cordial.
"And now," says Boyd, "each lady in turn should offer an impromptu
toast in verse."
Whereupon they all protested that the thing was impossible. But he was
already somewhat flushed with the punch and with his own success; and
says he, with that occasional and over-flourishing bow of his:
"To divinity nothing is impossible; therefore, the ladies, ever divine,
may venture all things."
"Which is why I venture to decline," remarked Lana. But he was set upon
it, and would not be denied; and he began a most flowery little speech
with the ladies as his inspiration:
"Poetry and grace in mind and body is theirs by nature," said he, "and
they have but to open the rosy petals of their lips to enthrall us all
with gems of----"
"Lord!" said Mrs. Bleecker, laughing, "I have never writ a verse in my
life save on my sampler; and if I were to open the rosy petals of my
lips, I should never have done a-giggling. But I'll do it, Mr. Boyd, if
you think it will enthrall you."
"As for me," quoth Angelina Lansing, "I require a workshop to
manufacture my gems. It follows that they are no true gems at all, but
shop-made paste. Ask Lana Helmer; she is far more adept in sugaring
refusals."
All turned smilingly toward Lana, who shrugged her shoulders, saying
carelessly:
"I must decline!
The Muses nine
No sisters are of mine.
Must I repine
Because I'm not divine,
And may not versify some pretty story
To prove to you my own immortal glory?
Make no mistake. Accept; don't offer verses.
Kisses received are mercies--given, curses!"
Said Boyd instantly:
"A thousand poems for your couplets! Do you trade with me, Miss Helmer?"
"Let me hear your thousand first," retorted the coquette disdainfully,
"ere I make up my mind to be damned."
Major Parr said grimly:
"With what are we others to trade, who can make no verses? Is there not
some more common form of wampum that you might consider?"
"A kind and unselfish heart is sound currency," said Lana smiling and
turning her back on Boyd; which brought her to face Lois.
"Do make a toast in verse for these importunate gentlemen," she said,
"and bring the last laggard to your feet."
"I?" exclaimed Lois in laughing surprise. Then her face altered subtly.
"I may not dream to rival you in beauty. Why should I challenge you in
wit?"
"Why not? Your very name implies a nationality in which elegance,
graceful wit, and taste are all inherent." And she curtsied very low to
Lois.
For a moment the girl stood motionless, her slender forefinger crook'd
in thought across her lips. Then she glanced at me; the pink spots on
her cheeks deepened, and her lips parted in a breathless smile.
"It will give me a pleasure to do honour to any wish expressed by
anybody," she said. "Am I to compose a toast, Euan?"
I gazed at her in surprise; Major Parr said loudly: "That's the proper
spirit!"
And, "Write for us a toast to love!" cried Boyd.
But Lana coolly proposed a toast to please all, which, she explained, a
toast to love would not by any means.
"And surely that is easy for you," she added sweetly, "who of your
proper self please all who ever knew you."
"Write us a patriotic toast!" suggested Captain Simpson, "----A jolly
toast that all true Americans can drink under the nose of the British
King himself."
"That's it!" cried Captain Franklin. "A toast so cunningly devised that
our poor fellows in the Provost below, and on that floating hell, the
'Jersey,' may offer it boldly and unrebuked in the very teeth of their
jailors! Lord! But that would be a rare bit o' verse--if it could be
accomplished," he added dubiously.
Lois stood there smiling, thinking, the tint of excitement still
brilliant in her cheeks.
"No, I could not hope to contrive such a verse----" she mused aloud.
"Yet--I might try----" She lifted her grey eyes to mine as though
awaiting my decision.
"Try," said I--I don't know why, because I never dreamed she had a
talent for such trifles.
For a second, as her eyes met mine, I had the sensation of standing
there entirely alone with her. Then the clamour around us grew on my
ears, and the figures of the others again took shape on every side.
And "Try!" they cried. "Try! Try!"
"Yes," she said slowly. "I will try----" She looked up at me. "----If
you wish it."
"Try," I said.
Very quietly she turned and passed behind the punch bowl and into the
next room, but did not close the door. And anybody could see her there,
seated at the rough pine table, quill in hand, and sometimes
motionless, absorbed in her own thoughts, sometimes scratching away at
the sheet of paper under her nose with all the proper frenzy of a very
poet.
We had emptied the punch bowl before she reappeared, holding out to me
the paper which was still wet with ink. And they welcomed her lustily,
glasses aloft, but I was in a cold fright for fear she had writ nothing
extraordinary, and they might think meanly of her mind, which, after
all, I myself knew little of save that it was sweet and generous.
But she seemed in no manner perturbed, waiting smilingly for the noise
to quiet. Then she said:
"This is a toast that our poor tyrant-ridden countrymen may dare to
offer at any banquet under any flag, and under the very cannon of New
York."
She stood still, absent-eyed, thinking for a moment; then, looking up
at us:
"It is really two poems in one. If you read it straight across the page
as it is written, then does it seem to be a boastful, hateful Tory
verse, vilifying all patriots, even His Excellency--God forgive the
thought!
"But in the middle of every line there is a comma, splitting the line
into two parts. And if you draw a line down through every one of these
commas, dividing the written verse into two halves, each separate half
will be a poem of itself, and the secret and concealed meaning of the
whole will then be apparent."
She laid the paper in my hands; instantly everybody, a-tiptoe with
curiosity, clustered around to see. And this is what we all read--the
prettiest and most cunningly devised and disguised verse that ever was
writ--or so it seems to me:
"Hark--hark the trumpet sounds, the din of war's alarms
O'er seas and solid grounds, doth call us all to arms,
Who for King George doth stand, their honour soon shall shine,
Their ruin is at hand, who with the Congress join.
The acts of Parliament, in them I much delight,
I hate their cursed intent, who for the Congress fight.
The Tories of the day, they are my daily toast,
They soon will sneak away, who independence boast,
Who non-resistant hold, they have my hand and heart,
May they for slaves be sold, who act the Whiggish part.
On Mansfield, North and Bute, may daily blessings pour
Confusions and dispute, on Congress evermore,
To North and British lord, may honours still be done,
I wish a block and cord, to General Washington."
Then Major Parr took the paper, and raising one hand, and with a
strange solemnity on his war-scarred visage, he pronounced aloud the
lines of the two halves, reading first a couplet from the left hand
side of the dividing commas, then a couplet from the right, and so down
the double column, revealing the hidden and patriotic poem:
"Hark--hark the trumpet sounds
O'er seas and solid grounds!
The din of war's alarms
Doth call us all to arms!
Who for King George doth stand
Their ruin is at hand:
Their honour soon shall shine
Who with the Congress join:
The acts of Parliament
I hate their cursed intent!
In them I much delight
Who for the Congress fight.
The Tories of the day
They soon will sneak away:
They are my daily toast
Who independence boast.
Who non-resistant hold
May they for slaves be sold.
They have my hand and heart
Who act the Whiggish part.
On Mansfield, North, and Bute,
Confusion and dispute.
May daily blessings pour
On Congress evermore.
To North and British lord,
I wish a block and cord!
May honours still be done
To General Washington!"
As his ringing voice subsided, there fell a perfect silence, then a
very roar of cheering filled it, and the hemlock rafters rang. And I
saw the colour fly to Lois's face like a bright ensign breaking from
its staff and opening in flower-like beauty.
Then every one must needs drink her health and praise her skill and wit
and address--save I alone, who seemed to have no words for her, or even
to tell myself of my astonishment at her accomplishment, somehow so
unexpected.
Yet, why might I not have expected accomplishments from such a pliant
intelligence--from a young and flexible mind that had not lacked
schooling, irregular as it was? Far by her own confession to me, her
education had been obtained, while it lasted, in schools as good as any
in the land, if, indeed, all were as excellent as Mrs. Pardee's Young
Ladies' Seminary in Albany, or the school kept by the Misses Primrose.
And Major Parr, the senior officer present, must have a glass of wine
with her all alone, and offer her his arm to the threshold, where Lana
and Boyd were busily plaiting a wreath of green maple-leaves for her,
which they presently placed around her chip-straw hat. And we all
acclaimed her.
As for Major Parr, that campaign-battered veteran had out his tablets
and was painfully copying the verses--he being no scholar--while Boyd
read them aloud to us all again in most excellent taste, and Lois
laughed and blushed, protesting that her modest effort was not worthy
such consideration.
"Egad!" said Major Parr loudly. "I maintain that verses such as these
are worth a veteran battalion to any army on earth! You are an aid, an
honour, and an inspiration to your country, Miss de Contrecoeur, and I
shall take care that His Excellency receives a copy of these same
verses----"
"Oh, Major Parr!" she protested in dismay. "I should perish with shame
if His Excellency were to be so beset by every sorry scribbler."
"A copy for His Excellency! Hurrah!" cried Captain Simpson. "Who
volunteers?"
"I will make it," said I, with jealous authority.
"And I will aid you with quill, sand, and paper," said Lana. "Come with
me, Euan."
Lois, who had at first smiled at me, now looked at us both, while the
smile stiffened on her flushed face as Lana caught me by the hand and
drew me toward the other room where the pine camp-table stood.
While I was writing in my clear and painstaking chirography, which I
try not to take a too great pride in because of its fine shading and
skillful flourishes, the guests of the afternoon were making their
adieux and taking their departure, some afoot, others on horseback.
When I had finished my copy and had returned to the main room, nothing
remained of the afternoon party save Boyd and Lana, whispering together
by a window, and the black wench, Gusta, clearing away the debris of
the afternoon.
Outside in the late sunshine, I could see Mrs. Bleecker and Mrs.
Lansing strolling to and fro, arm in arm, but I looked around in vain
for Lois.
"She is doubtless gone a-boating with her elegant senior Ensign," said
Lana sweetly, from the window. "If you run fast you may kill him yet,
Euan."
"I was looking for nobody," said I stiffly, and marched out, ridding
them of my company--which I think was what they both desired.
Now, among other and importunate young fops, the senior Ensign and his
frippery and his marked attention to Lois, and his mincing but
unfeigned devotion to her, had irritated me to the very verge of
madness.
Twice, to my proper knowledge, this fellow had had her in an Oneida
canoe, and with a guitar at that; and, damn him, he sang with taste and
discretion. Also, when not on duty, he was ever to be found lisping
compliments into her ear, or, in cool possession of her arm,
promenading her to flaunt her beauty--and his good fortune--before the
entire fort. And I had had enough of it.
So when I learned that she was off again with him, such a rage and
wretchedness possessed me that I knew not what to do. Common sense
yelled in my ear that no man of that stripe could seriously impress
her; but where is the understanding in a very young man so violently
sick with love as was I? All men who approached her I instantly
suspected and mentally damned--even honest old Simpson--aye, even Major
Parr himself. And I wonder now I had not done something to invite
court-martial. For my common sense had been abruptly and completely
upset, and I was at that period in a truly unhappy and contemptible
plight.
I could not seem to steer my footsteps clear of the river bank, nor
deny myself the fierce and melancholy pleasure of gazing at their canoe
from afar, so I finally walked in that direction, cursing my own
weakness and meditating quarrels and fatal duels.
But when I arrived on the river bank, I could not discover her in any
of the canoes that danced in the rosy ripples of the declining sun. So,
mooning and miserable, I lagged along the bank toward my bush-hut; and
presently, to my sudden surprise, discovered the very lady of whom I
had been thinking so intently--not dogged as usual by that insufferable
Ensign, but in earnest conversation with the Sagamore.
And, as I gazed at them outlined against the evening sky, I remembered
what Betsy Hunt had said at Poundridge--how she had encountered them
together on the hill which overlooked the Sound.
Long before I reached them or they had discovered me, the Sagamore
turned and took his departure, with a dignified gesture of refusal; and
Lois looked after him for a moment, her hand to her cheek, then turned
and gazed straight into the smouldering West, where, stretching away
under its million giant pines, the vast empire of the Long House lay,
slowly darkening against the crimson sunset.
She did not notice me as I came toward her through the waving Indian
grass, and even when I spoke her name she did not seem startled, but
turned very deliberately, her eyes still reflecting the brooding
thoughts that immersed her.
"What is it that you and this Mohican have still to say to each other?"
I asked apprehensively.
The vague expression of her features changed; she answered with
heightened colour:
"The Sagamore is my friend as well as yours. Is it strange that I
should speak with him when it pleases me to do so?"
There was an indirectness in her gaze, as well as in her reply, that
troubled me, but I said amiably:
"What has become of your mincing escort? Is he gone to secure a canoe?"
"He is on duty and gone to the fort."
"Where he belongs," I growled, "and not eternally at your heels."
She raised her eyes and looked at me curiously.
"Are you jealous?" she demanded, beginning to smile; then, suddenly the
smile vanished and she shot at me a darker look, and stood considering
me with lips slightly compressed, hostile and beautiful.
"As for that fop of an Ensign----" I began--but she took the word from
my mouth:
"A fiddle-stick! It is I who have cause to complain of you, not you of
me! You throw dust in my eyes by accusing where you should stand
otherwise accused. And you know it!"
"I? Accused of what?"
"If you don't know, then I need not humiliate myself to inform you. But
I think you do know, for you looked guilty enough----"
"Guilty of what?"
"Of what? I don't know what you may be guilty of. But you sat on the
stairs with your simpering inamorata--and your courtship quarrels and
your tender reconciliations were plain enough to--to sicken anybody----"
"Lois! That is no proper way to speak of----"
"It is your own affair--and hers! I ask your pardon--but she flaunted
her intimacy with you so openly and indiscreetly----"
"There is no common sense in what you say!" I exclaimed angrily. "If
I----"
"Was she not ever drowning her very soul in your sheep's eyes? And even
not scrupling to shamelessly caress you in the face of all----"
"Caress me!"
"Did she not stand for ten full minutes with her hand upon your
shoulder, and a-sighing and simpering----"
"That was no caress! It was full innocent and----"
"Is she so innocent? Indeed! I had scarcely thought it of her," she
said disdainfully.
"She is a true, good girl, innocent of any evil intention
whatsoever----"
"I pray you, Euan, spare me your excited rhapsodies. If you prefer this
most bewitching--minx----"
"She is no minx!" I retorted hotly; and Lois as hotly faced me, pink to
her ears with exasperation.
"You do favour her! You do! You do! Say what you will, you are ever
listening for the flutter of her petticoats on the stairs, ever at her
French heels, ever at moony gaze with her--and a scant inch betwixt
your noses! So that you come not again to me vowing what you have vowed
to me--I care not how you and she conduct----"
"I do prefer you!" I cried, furious to be so misconstrued. "I love only
one, and that one is you!"
"Oh, Euan, yours is a most broad and catholic heart; and any pretty
penitent can find her refuge there; and any petticoat can flutter it!"
"Yours can. Even your fluttering rags did that!"
She flushed: "Oh, if I were truly weak and silly enough to listen to
you----"
"You never do. You give me no hope."
"I do give you hope! I am ever ladling it out to you as they ladle
soupaan to the militia! I say to you continually that never have I so
devotedly loved any man----"
"That is not love!" I said, furious.
"I do not pretend it to be that same boiling and sputtering sentiment
which men call love----"
"Then if it be not true love, why do you care what I whisper to any
woman?"
"I do not care," she said, biting the rose-leaf lower lip. "You may
whisper any treason you please to any h-heartless woman who snares your
f-fancy."
"You do not truly care?"
"I have said it. No, I do not care! Court whom you please! But if you
do, my faith in man is dead, and that's flat!"
"What!"
"Certainly.... After your burning vows so lately made to me. But men
have no shame. I know that much."
"But," said I, bewildered, "you say that you care nothing for my vows!"
"Did I say so?"
"Yes--you----"
"No, I did not say so!... I--I love your vows."
"How can you love my vows and not me?" I demanded angrily.
"I don't know I can do it, but I do.... But I will love them no longer
if you make the selfsame vows to her."
"Now," said I, perplexed and exasperated, "what does it profit a man
when a maid confesses that she loves to hear his vows, but loves not
him who makes them?"
"For me to love even your vows," said she, looking at me sideways, "is
something gained for you--or so it seems to me. And were I minded to
play the coquette--as some do----"
"You play it every minute!"
"I? When, pray?"
"When I came to Croghan's this afternoon there were you the centre of
'em all; and one ass in boots and spurs to wave your fan for you--oh,
la! And another of Franklin's, in his Wyandotte finery, to fetch and
carry; and a dozen more young fools all ogling and sighing at your
feet----"
Her lips parted in a quick, nervous laugh:
"Was that the way I seemed? Truly, Euan? Were you jealous? And I scarce
heeding one o' them, but my eyes on the doorway, watching for you!"
"Oh, Lois! How can you say that to me----"
"Because it was so! Why did you not come to me at once? I was waiting!"
"There were so many--and you seemed so gay with them--so careless--not
even glancing at me----"
"I saw you none the less. I never let you escape the range of my
vision."
"I never dreamed you noticed me. And every time you smiled on one of
them I grew the gloomier----"
"And what does my gaiety mean--save that the source of happiness lies
rooted in you? What do other men count, only that in their admiration I
read some recompense for you, who made me admirable. These gowns I wear
are yours--these shoon and buckles and silken stockings--these bows of
lace and furbelows--this little patch making my rose cheeks
rosier--this frost of powder on my hair! All these I wear, Euan, so
that man's delight in me may do you honour. All I am to please them--my
gaiety, my small wit, which makes for them crude verses, my modesty, my
decorum, my mind and person, which seem not unacceptable to a
respectable society--all these are but dormant qualities that you have
awakened and inspired----"
She broke off short, tears filling her eyes:
"Of what am I made, then, if my first and dearest and deepest thought
be not for you? And such a man as this is jealous!"
I caught her hands, but she bent swiftly and laid her hot cheek for an
instant against my hand which held them.
"If there is in me a Cinderella," she said unsteadily, "it is you who
have discovered it--liberated it--and who have willed that it shall
live. Did you suppose that it was in me to make those verses unless you
told me that I could do it? You said, 'Try,' and instantly I dared
try.... Is that not something to stir your pride? A girl as absolutely
yours as that? And do not the lesser and commonplace emotions seem
trivial in comparison--all the heats and passions and sentimental
vapours--the sighs and vows and languishing all the inevitable
trappings and masqueradings which bedizzen what men know as love--do
they not all seem mean and petty compared to our deep, sweet knowledge
of each other?"
"You are wonderful," I said humbly. "But love is no unreal, unworthy
thing, either; no sham, no trite cut-and-dried convention, made silly
by sighs and vapours.
"Oh, Euan, it is! I am so much more to you in my soul than if I merely
loved you. You are so much more to me--the very well-spring of my
desire and pride--my reason for pleasing, my happy consolation and my
gratitude.... Seat yourself here on the pleasant, scented grasses and
let me endeavour to explain it once and for all time. Will you?
"It is this," she continued, taking my hand between hers, when we were
seated, and examining it very intently, as though the screed she
recited were written there on my palm. "We are so marvelously matched
in every measurement and feature, mental and bodily almost--and I am so
truly becoming a vital part of you and you of me, that the miracle is
too perfect, too lofty, too serenely complete to vex it with the lesser
magic--the passions and the various petty vexations they entail.
"For I would become--to honour you--all that your pride would have me.
I would please the world for your sake, conquer it both with mind and
person. And you must endeavour to better yourself, day by day, nobly
and with high aim, so that the source of my inspiration remain ever
pure and fresh, and I attain to heights unthinkable save for your faith
in me and mine in you."
She smiled at me, and I said:
"Aye; but to what end?"
"To what end, Euan? Why, for our spiritual and worldly profit."
"Yes, but I love you----"
"No, no! Not in that manner----"
"But it is so."
"No, it is not! We are to be above mere sentiment. Reason rules us."
"Are we not to wed?"
"Oh--as for that----" She thought for a while, closely considering my
palm. "Yes--that might some day be a part of it.... When we have
attained to every honour and consideration, and our thoughts and
desires are purged and lifted to serene and lofty heights of
contemplation. Then it would be natural for us to marry, I suppose."
"Meanwhile," said I, "youth flies; and I may not lay a finger on you to
caress you."
"Not to caress me--as that woman did to you----"
"Lois!"
"I can not help it. There is in her--in all such women--a sly, smooth,
sleek and graceful beast, ever seeming to invite or offer a caress----"
"She is sweet and womanly; a warm friend of many years."
"Oh! And am I not--womanly?"
"Are you, entirely?"
She looked at me troubled:
"How would you have me be more womanly?"
"Be less a comrade, more a sweetheart."
"Familiar?"
My heart was beating fast:
"Familiar to my arms. I love you."
"I--do not permit myself to desire your arms. Can I help saying so--if
you ask me?"
"When I love you so----"
"No. Why are you, after all, like other men, when I once hoped----"
"Other men love. All men love. How can I be different----"
"You are more finely made. You comprehend higher thoughts. You can
command your lesser passions."
"You say that very lightly, who have no need to command yours!"
"How do you know?" she said in a low voice.
"Because you have none to curb--else you could better understand the
greater ones."
She sat with head lowered, playing with a blade of grass. After a while
she looked up at me, a trifle confused.
"Until I knew you, I entertained but one living passion--to find my
mother and hold her in my arms--and have of her all that I had ached
for through many empty and loveless years. Since I have known you that
desire has never changed. She is my living passion, and my need."
She bent her head again and sat playing with the scented grasses. Then,
half to herself, she said:
"I think I am still loyal to her if I have placed you beside her in my
heart. For I have not yet invested you with a passion less innocent
than that which burns for her."
She lifted her head slowly, propping herself up on one arm, and looked
intently at me.
"What do you know about me, that you say I am unwomanly and cold?" Her
voice was low, but the words rang a little.
"Do not deceive yourself," she said. "I am fashioned for love as
thoroughly as are you--for love sacred or profane. But who am I to dare
put on my crown of womanhood? Let me first know myself--let me know
what I am, and if I truly have even a right to the very name I wear.
Let me see my own mother face to face--hold her first of all in my
embrace--give my lips first to her, yield to her my first caresses....
Else," and her face paled, "I do not know what I might become--I do not
know, I tell you--having been all my life deprived of intimacy--never
having known familiar kindness or its lightest caress--and half dead
sometimes of the need of it!"
She straightened up, clenching her hands, then smiled her breathless
little smile.
"Think of it, Euan! For twenty years I have wanted her caresses--or
such harmless kindness of somebody--almost of anybody! My foster-mother
never kissed me, never put her arm about me--or even laid her hand
lightly upon my shoulder--as did that girl do to you on the stairs....
I tell you, to see her do it went through me like a Shawanese arrow----"
She forced a mirthless smile, and clasped her fingers across her knee:
"So bitterly have I missed affection all my life," she added calmly.
"...And now you come into my life! Why, Euan--and my sentiments were
truly pure and blameless when you were there that night with me on the
rock under the clustered stars--and I left for you a rose--and my heart
with it!--so dear and welcome was your sudden presence that I could
have let you fold me in your arms, and so fallen asleep beside you, I
was that deathly weary of my solitude and ragged isolation."
She made a listless gesture:
"It is too late for us to yield to demonstration of your affection now,
anyway--not until I find myself safe in the arms that bore me first.
God knows how deeply it would affect me if you conquered me, or what I
would do for very gratitude and happiness under the first close
caress.... Stir not anything of that in me, Euan. Let me not even dream
of it. It were not well for me--not well for me. For whether I love you
as I do, or--otherwise and less purely--it would be all the same--and I
should become--something--which I am not--wedded or otherwise--not my
free self, but to my lesser self a slave, without ambition,
pride--wavering in that fixed resolve which has brought me hither....
And I should live and die your lesser satellite, unhappy to the very
end."
After a silence, I said heavily:
"Then you have not renounced your purpose?"
"No."
"You still desire to go to Catharines-town?"
"I must go."
"That was the burden of your conversation with the Sagamore but now?"
"Yes."
"He refused to aid you?"
"He refused."
"Why, then, are you not content to wait here--or at Albany?"
She sat for a long while with head lowered, then, looking up quietly:
"Another pair of moccasins was left outside my door last night."
"What! At Croghan's? Inside our line!" I exclaimed incredulously.
"Aye. But this time the message sewed within them differed from all the
others. And on the shred of bark was written: 'Swift moccasins for
little feet as swift. The long trail opens. Come!'"
"You think your mother wrote it?" I asked, astounded.
"Yes.... She wrote the others."
"Well?"
"This writing is the same."
"The same hand that wrote the other messages throughout the years?"
"The same."
"Have you told the Sagamore of this?"
"I told him but now--and for the first time."
"You told him everything?"
"Yes--concerning my first finding--and the messages that came every
year with the moccasins."
"And did you show him the Indian writing also?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing. But there flashed up suddenly in his eyes a reddish light
that frightened me, and his face became so hideous and terrible that I
could have cried out. But I contrived to maintain my composure, and I
said: 'What do you make of it, O Sagamore?' And he spat out a word I
did not clearly understand----"
"Amochol?"
"Yes--it sounded like that. What did he mean, Euan?"
"I will presently ask him," said I, thoroughly alarmed. "And in the
meanwhile, you must now be persuaded to remain at this post. You are
contented and happy here. When we march, you will go back to
Schenectady or to Albany with the ladies of the garrison, and wait
there some word of our fate.
"If we win through, I swear to you that if your mother be there in
Catharines-town I will bring news of her, or, God willing, bring her
herself to you."
I rose and aided her to stand; and her hands remained limply in mine.
"I had rather take you from her arms," I said in a low voice, "----if
you ever deign to give yourself to me."
"That is sweetly said.... Such giving leaves the giver unashamed."
"Could you promise yourself to me?"
She stood with head averted, watching the last faint stain of color
fade from the west.
"Would you have me at any cost, Euan?"
"Any cost."
"Suppose that when I find my mother--I find no name for myself--save
hers?"
"You shall have mine then."
"Dear lad!... But--suppose, even then I do not love you--as men mean
love."
"So that you love no other man, I should still want you."
"Am I then so vital to you?"
"Utterly."
"To how many other women have you spoken thus?" she asked gravely.
"To none."
"Truly?"
"Truly, Lois."
She said in a low voice:
"Other men have said it to me.... I have heard them swear it with tears
in their eyes and calling God to witness. And I knew all the while that
they were lying--perjuring their souls for the sake of a ragged, unripe
jade, and a wild night's frolic.... Well--God made men.... I know
myself, too.... To love you as you wish is to care less for you than I
already do. I would not willingly.... Yet, I may try if you wish it....
So that is all the promise I dare make you. Come--take me home now--if
you care to walk as far with me."
"And I who am asking you to walk through life with me?" I said, forcing
a laugh.
We turned; she took my arm, and together we moved slowly back through
the falling dusk.
And, as we approached her door, came a sudden and furious sound of
galloping behind us, and we sprang to the side of the road as the
express thundered by in a storm of dust and driving pebbles.
"News," she whispered. "Do they bring good news as fast as bad?"
"It may mean our marching orders," I said, dejected.
We had now arrived at Croghan's, and she was withdrawing her arm from
mine, when the hollow sound of a conch-horn went echoing and booming
through the dusk.
"It does mean your marching orders!" she exclaimed, startled.
"It most certainly means something," said I. "Good-night--I must run
for the fort----"
"Are you going to----to leave me?"
"That horn is calling out Morgan's men----"
"Am I not to see you again?"
"Why, yes--I expect so--but if----"
"Oh! Is there an 'if'?' Euan, are you going away forever?"
"Dear maid, I don't know yet what has happened----"
"I do! You are going!... To your death, perhaps--for all I know----"
"Hush! And good-night----"
She held to my offered hand tightly:
"Don't go--don't go----"
"I will return and tell you if----"
"'If!' That means you will not return! I shall never see you again!"
I had flung one arm around her, and she stood with one hand clenched
against her lips, looking blankly into my face.
"Good-bye," I said, and kissed her clenched hand so violently that it
slipped sideways on her cheek, bruising her lips.
She gave a faint gasp and swayed where she stood, very white in the
face.
"I have hurt you," I stammered; but my words were lost in a frightful
uproar bursting from the fort; and:
"God!" she whispered, cowering against me, as the horrid howling
swelled on the affrighted air.
"It is only the Oneidas' scalp-yell," said I. "They know the news.
Their death-halloo means that the corps of guides is ordered out.
Good-bye! You have means to support you now till I return. Wait for me;
love me if it is in you to love such a man. Whatever the event, my
devotion will not alter. I leave you in God's keeping, dear. Good-bye."
Her hand was still at her bruised lips; I bent forward; she moved it
aside. But I kissed only her hand.
Then I turned and ran toward the fort; and in the torch-light at the
gate encountered Boyd, who said to me gleefully:
"It's you and your corps of guides! The express is from Clinton.
Hanierri remains; the Sagamore goes with you; but the regiment is not
marching yet awhile. Lord help us! Listen to those beastly Oneidas in
their paint! Did you ever hear such a wolf-pack howling! Well, Loskiel,
a safe and pleasant scout to you." He offered his hand. "I'll be
strolling back to Croghan's. Fare you safely!"
"And you," I said, not thinking, however, of him. But I thought of
Lana, and wished to God that Boyd were with us on this midnight march,
and Lana safe in Albany once more.
As I entered the fort, through the smoky flare of torches, I saw Dolly
Glenn waiting there; and as I passed she gave a frightened exclamation.
"Did you wish to speak to me?" I asked.
"Is--is Lieutenant Boyd going with you?" she stammered.
"No, child."
She thanked me with a pitiful sort of smile, and shrank back into the
darkness.
I remained but a few moments with Major Parr and Captain Simpson; a
rifleman of my own company, Harry Kent, brought me my pack and
rifle--merely sufficient ammunition and a few necessaries--for we were
to travel lightly. Then Captain Simpson went away to inspect the Oneida
scouts.
"I wish you well," said the Major quietly. "Guard the Mohican as you
would the apple of your eye, and--God go with you, Euan Loskiel."
I saluted, turned squarely, and walked out across the parade to the
postern. Here I saw Captain Simpson inspecting the four guides, one of
whom, to me, seemed unnecessarily burdened with hunting shirt and
blanket.
Running my eye along their file, where they stood in the uncertain
torchlight, I saw at once that the guides selected by Major Parr were
not all Oneidas. Two of them seemed to be; a third was a Stockbridge
Indian; but the fourth--he with the hunting-shirt and double blanket,
wore unfamiliar paint.
"What are you?" said I in the Oneida dialect, trying to gain a square
look at him in the shifty light.
"Wyandotte," he said quietly.
"Hell!" said I, turning to Captain Simpson. "Who sends me a Wyandotte?"
"General Clinton," replied Simpson in surprise. "The Wyandotte came
from Fortress Pitt. Colonel Broadhead, commanding our left wing, sent
him, most highly recommending him for his knowledge of the Susquehanna
and Tioga."
I took another hard look at the Wyandotte.
"You should travel lighter," said I. "Split that Niagara blanket and
roll your hunting-shirt."
The savage looked at me a moment, then his sinewy arms flew up and he
snatched the deerskin shirt from his naked body. The next instant his
knife fairly leaped from its beaded sheath; there was a flash of steel,
a ripping sound, and his blue and scarlet blanket lay divided. Half of
it he flung to a rifleman, and the other half, with his shirt, he
rolled and tied to his pack.
Such zeal and obedience pleased me, and I smiled and nodded to him. He
showed his teeth at me, which I fancied was his mode of smiling. But it
was somewhat hideous, as his nose had been broken, and the unpleasant
dent in it made horridly conspicuous by a gash of blood-red paint.
I buckled my belt and pack and picked up my rifle. Captain Simpson
shook hands with me. At the same moment, the rifleman sent to our
bush-hut to summon the Mohican returned with him. And a finer sight I
never saw; for the tall and magnificently formed Siwanois was in
scarlet war-paint from crown to toe, oiled, shaven save for the lock,
and crested with a single scarlet plume--and heaven knows where he got
it, for it was not dyed, but natural.
His scarlet and white beaded sporran swung to his knees; his ankle
moccasins were quilled and feathered in red and white; the Erie scalps
hung from his girdle, hooped in red, and he bore only a light
pack-slung, besides his rifle and short red blanket.
"Salute, O Sagamore! Roya-neh!" I said in a low voice, passing him.
He smiled, then his features became utterly blank, as one by one the
eyes of the other Indians flashed on his for a moment, then shifted
warily elsewhere.
I made a quick gesture, turned, and started, heading the file out into
the darkness.
And as we advanced noiselessly and swung west into the Otsego road, I
was aware of a shadow on my right--soft hands outstretched--a faint
whisper as I kissed her tightening fingers. Then I ran on to head that
painted file once more, and for a time continued to lead at hazard,
blinded with tears.
And it was some minutes before I was conscious of the Mohican's hand
upon my arm, guiding my uncertain feet through the star-shot dark.