The Belt of Seven Totems. Munroe Kirk
taken the war-path against us?”
For a moment the youth hesitated. He glanced at the old arrow-maker, whose features were unmoved and who made no sign. Then he looked towards Otshata, whose face showed her distress and who made an imploring gesture for him to decline the offer. Finally he turned to Aeana, who stood motionless and with averted gaze, but her attitude and expression were unmistakable. They said as plainly as words, “He is a squaw and dares not face the war-path.”
In an instant Nahma’s resolution was taken, and he answered Sacandaga, saying,—
“I am without experience of the war-path, nor have I knowledge of any people save only of these, my father and my sisters. If, however, these Hurons be the enemies of Kaweras and of his daughters, then will I gladly go with thee to fight against them.”
“It is well,” replied Sacandaga, greatly pleased to have gained so promising a recruit. “Spend thou the night with my young men, who will instruct thee concerning many things, and in the morning will we set forth.”
Some hours later, when the camp-fires had burned low and the recumbent forms gathered about them were buried in slumber, two men issued silently from the lodge of Kaweras and made their way to a secluded spot on the river-bank, where they believed they might discuss weighty matters without danger of being overheard. They were Sacandaga and the old arrow-maker, and when they had gained the place they sought the latter broke the silence by saying,—
“It is now many days since I became aware that Sacandaga proposed to honor my poor lodge by a visit. Also am I informed of his object in coming, though he has told it to no man.”
“How may such a thing be?” asked the other.
“To all men come dreams, but to a few only is given the power of understanding them,” replied Kaweras. “The many dream dreams and forget them on waking. Some indeed recall them and make vain efforts to comprehend their meaning; but to Kaweras a dream speaks a language as easy of understanding as the signs of the forest or the voices of birds that dwell among its branches.”
“So I have heard, and for that reason have I come to thee,” said Sacandaga. “Tell me, then, what is my desire and if it may be accomplished.”
“The Hurons are reported to be gathering on the war-path leading to the country of the Iroquois, and thy desire is to proceed with such promptness against them that they may be surprised and destroyed while still in their own territory. Then would you descend on their villages and wipe them out, that the power of our enemies may be broken forever.”
“That is indeed a hope that I have cherished, but always in secret, and for my brother to know of it is proof that I have not done wrong in coming to him for advice,” said Sacandaga. “How, then, Kaweras, will this plan of mine succeed, and shall we thus rid ourselves of the wolves whose howling has so long troubled our ears?”
The prophet hesitated before making reply. Then he said slowly, “Sometimes the dream-pictures are so plenty and come so quickly that it is hard to make out one from another, as it is hard to understand the words of one man when many are talking. I see a fight. In it are Maquas and Hurons. The Maquas chase their enemies and kill them. It is morning and the sun is shining. Also with this picture I see another battle in which the Hurons are overcoming the Maquas and taking many prisoners. In this one is thunder and lightning, by which many are killed. Which is the true picture I know not, nor how to advise my brother concerning them.”
“Then will I interpret and tell thee their meaning,” exclaimed Sacandaga. “Both are true, and their meaning is this. I and my young men are to go on the war-path against the Huron dogs and will surely encounter them. If we do so on a fair morning when there is no sign of storm in the air, then shall we overcome them and wipe them from the face of the earth. If we should meet them in the morning and delay an attack until later in the day, then would the Great Spirit grow angry and send his lightnings to destroy us. It is well, my brother. I will remember to seek the enemy on a fair morning and avoid him on a day of storm. Now I would ask thee one more question. What do thy dreams tell of the young man who is called Massasoit?”
“This only,” answered Kaweras, “that he is the son of a chieftain, and will himself become a leader of men, wiser even and more powerful than his father.”
“But who is his father?”
“I know not, though of late I have come to a suspicion that this young man may be Nahma, the missing son of Longfeather.”
“That cannot be, for I have had dealings with the son of Longfeather and know that he and this youth are not one person.”
“Did not that one also claim to be a son of Canonicus?”
“He did so claim.”
“Then he may have spoken falsely; for Uncas, the Mohican, hath lately sent me word that Nahma and Miantinomo are two separate persons, holding no love for each other and having nothing in common.”
“If the words of Uncas should prove true and it shall appear that I have been led falsely into a treaty with Canonicus, then shall the wrath of Sacandaga fall upon the Narragansetts even as one destroys a serpent that has stung him. I will look closely into the matter when I have returned from dealing with the Hurons. Until then it is well that I keep this young man where I may watch over him.”
In the mean time the youth under discussion had just passed the pleasantest evening his short memory could recall. He was like a boy brought up in a nursery with only girls for companions, at length set free and for the first time admitted to the company of men. He had no recollection of companions of his own age and sex, so that the young warriors who now welcomed him to their ranks were revelations as surprising as they were interesting.
How much they knew, and what wonderful things they told him! At the same time how delightful was it to listen to their praise of his own accomplishments! Until now he had not known that he possessed accomplishments, but supposed that every one could shoot and run equally well with himself. He could not remember having learned to do these things, nor had he found occasion since entering the lodge of Kaweras to test his skill in them against that of others. Now, therefore, he was surprised as well as pleased to find himself in the position of a hero on account of abilities that he had heretofore regarded as commonplace.
So pleasant was the evening thus spent with his new companions that when Sacandaga gave the signal for conversation to cease that his young men might sleep and so prepare for an early start on the morrow, Nahma was filled with eager anticipations of the new life opening before him, and already wondered how he could have been content with that passed in the lodge of Kaweras.
With the earliest promise of dawn he was first of all the sleeping warriors to spring to his feet and begin preparations for departure. Such as he had to make were few and simple, but to him they were of vast importance. New moccasins and leggings of buckskin, a light robe of soft furs in which to wrap himself at night, and a wing feather from the great eagle for his head completed his list of personal belongings. Besides these he would take a bow and the quiver of fine flint-headed arrows that Kaweras presented to him that morning, his stone hatchet or tomahawk, and the copper scalping-knife that was his sole relic of a former but unremembered life. Also he must furnish to the general stock of provisions a large, close-woven basket of parched corn.
By sunrise a meal had been hastily eaten and everything was in readiness for the setting forth of the war-party. Kaweras embraced Nahma and bade him make for himself a name. Tears streamed down the cheeks of Otshata as she bade him farewell and pressed into his hands a pair of daintily embroidered moccasins as a token of remembrance. The youth looked on all sides for Aeana, but she was nowhere to be seen. Only after his canoe was well out on the river and he glanced back for a farewell view of the place that had been to him a home did he see, standing on a slight elevation and gazing in his direction, a solitary figure that he knew to be that of the girl who scorned him.
Some days later he found tucked down in the toe of one of Otshata’s moccasins an exquisite little tinder-bag of softest fawn-skin that he had last seen hanging from the shapely neck of Aeana.
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