The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Belt of Seven Totems, by Kirk Munroe, Illustrated by Emlen McConnell

THE BELT OF SEVEN TOTEMS

NINTH IMPRESSION

HE WAS SEIZED BY TWO PAIR OF BRAWNY HANDS AND
DRAGGED INBOARD [Page 193]

THE BELT of SEVEN TOTEMS

A Story of Massasoit

By

KIRK MUNROE

Author of "Under the Great Bear," "Brethren of the
Coast," "Rick Dale," "Forward March,"
"The 'Mates'' Series," etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY
EMLEN McCONNELL

PHILADELPHIA & LONDON
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY KIRK MUNROE

PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
AT THE WASHINGTON SQUARE PRESS
PHILADELPHIA, U. S. A.

TO MY READERS

The following story is not intended as a history; it is merely an effort to reconcile certain apparently conflicting facts and to explain an otherwise inexplicable situation. At the time of the Pilgrim Fathers all American Indians—not excepting those of New England—had suffered repeated outrage at the hands of white men, and in no case had they been given cause to love the invaders of their country or to welcome their presence. Why, then, did the powerful Massasoit permit a white invasion of his territory that he could so easily have crushed? A friendship existed from the very first between him and Edward Winslow, and the latter seems to have exercised a great influence over the New England sachem. What was the origin of this friendship? The Narragansetts, while submitting to Massasoit's authority, were always in sullen opposition to it. Why? It is to answer these questions to my own satisfaction that I have constructed the theory herewith advanced.

Many New England natives were kidnapped and taken to various parts of Europe. Why might not Massasoit have been among them? The wampum belt, on which was pictured the distinguishing totems of seven leading New England clans, was worn by both Massasoit and Metacomet (King Philip), his son, and is still in existence. Tasquanto (Squanto) was kidnapped from Cape Cod and taken to England, where he remained for several years. Captain Dermer carried a number of native Americans to London, where he sold them to be exhibited as curiosities. He finally died of wounds received at the hands of New England Indians. Champlain did aid a war-party of Hurons to defeat the Iroquois in one instance, and in another was defeated by the same foe. Thus, while my story is admittedly fictional, it has a substantial historical basis.

Kirk Munroe.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THE
BELT OF SEVEN TOTEMS

CHAPTER I THE VILLAGE OF PEACE

In the olden days when the whole land belonged to the red man the village of Longfeather the Peacemaker was located on the river of Sweet Waters, nearly one hundred miles, as the crow flies, from the place where it flows into the sea. Its ruler was Longfeather, the only son of Nassaup, sachem of the Wampanoags, and a man wise enough to realize that peace was better for his people than war. So he had sent his only son, when still a mere youth, to one after another of the surrounding tribes that he might learn their language and establish friendships among them. Thus Longfeather had lived for months at a time among all the tribes dwelling east of the Shatemuc and the country of the terrible Iroquois. He had travelled as far north as the land of the Abenakis, from whom he learned to make snow-shoes and to construct canoes of birchen bark. He had visited the Nipmucks and Nausets of the eastern coast, who taught him many secrets of the salt waters from which they gained their living. He had journeyed to the southward, spending a year with the Narragansetts and another with the Pequots, the wampum-making tribes. Then for a long time he had remained with the warlike Mohicans, whose great chieftain Tamenand loved him as a son, and taught him from his own wisdom until Longfeather became wisest of all Indians dwelling in the region afterwards known as New England.

So many seasons of corn-planting and harvest did the youth spend in travel and study among the tribes, that when he finally turned his face towards his own people he was become a man in years as well as in stature and strength. So it happened that he tarried again among the Pequots until he had won for a bride Miantomet, a daughter of their sachem. The principal industry of this tribe being the production of wampum, which was made in the form of cylindrical beads, white, black, purple, and sometimes red, cut from sea-shells, Longfeather's bride was presented with a vast store of this precious material in the form of strings and belts, so that in winning her the young man also acquired much wealth.

To fittingly celebrate the home-coming of his son, Nassaup commanded a great feast that should last for seven days, and to it were invited the headmen of all the tribes in which Longfeather had made friends. The place chosen for this notable gathering was the mouth of a beautiful valley, centrally located for the convenience of the several tribes, and gently sloping to the river of Sweet Waters. Here, then, in early autumn, at the full of the harvest moon, were gathered hundreds of the leading sannups of the wide-spread territory bounded by the great white river (St. Lawrence) on the north, the salt waters that bathe the rising sun on the east and south, and the Shatemuc (Hudson) on the west. These, together with their families, formed an assemblage larger and more important than any that could be recalled even by tradition, and while much of their time was devoted to feasting and dancing, they also discussed questions of great significance.

One of these was the meaning of a vast ball of fire, that, brighter than the sun and glowing with many colors, had shot athwart an evening sky on the night of Longfeather's marriage to Miantomet. To some this phenomenon portended evil, while to others it was an omen of good promise; but all were convinced that it was connected in some way with the fortunes of Longfeather.

Another matter discussed early and late with unflagging interest was the rumored appearance in remote regions of a race of beings having human form, but unlike any heretofore known. They were said to have white skins and hairy faces, and were believed to control thunder and lightning, which they used for the destruction of all who came in their way. Some of them were also described as bestriding fire-breathing monsters of such ferocity that they carried death and destruction wherever they went. Most of these rumors came from the south and from lands so remote that they had been many months travelling from tribe to tribe and from mouth to mouth. Whether the beings thus imperfectly described were gods or devils none could tell. At the same time those who heard of them agreed that in spite of their form they could not be human, for were not all men made in one likeness, with red skins, black hair, and smooth faces?

It was disquieting that, while most of these rumors came from the far-distant south, some of them also came from the north, and located the white-skinned strangers not more than a month's journey away. At the same time it was comforting to have all stories agree that, while they appeared from the ocean borne on the backs of vast winged monsters of the deep, they always, after a while, disappeared again as they had come.

Longfeather further reassured those who discussed these matters by relating a tradition that he had received from Tamenand. It concerned other supernatural visitants who had once come even to the land of the Wampanoags; but so long ago that not even the great-grandfather of the oldest man living had seen them. They also were described as of white skin and having hair on their faces. It was not told that they rode fire-breathing dragons, or that they were armed with thunderbolts, but they had come from the sea and returned into it again when they were ready for departure. To be sure, they had slain many of the native dwellers and caused great fear throughout the land, but after going away they had never again been seen. To this day, however, traces of their visitation remained in the form of certain pictured rocks that they had inscribed, and which no man might remove or even touch, under penalty of death.

The simple-minded forest-dwellers listened to these tales with the same dread that would inspire us of to-day upon hearing that inhabitants of some distant planet, bringing death-dealing weapons that were unknown to us, had invaded the world. They shuddered, gazing furtively about them as they listened, and drew closer together as though for mutual protection. Although the fears thus aroused sobered the red-skinned assemblage and left it in small humor for further festivities, this was not regretted by Nassaup, since it rendered them the more willing to listen to a plan that he wished to propose. It was one so long considered that it had become the chief desire of his life, and was nothing more nor less than a federation of all the tribes there represented, in the interests of peace, mutual aid, and protection. For two days was this proposition discussed, and then it was accepted. A belt of wampum, on which was worked his own totem, was given to each of the seven head chiefs present, and a great belt of the same material, in which the seven totems were combined, was presented to Longfeather. On account of his wisdom he had been unanimously chosen to rule the allied tribes, and this Belt of Seven Totems was the badge of his authority. So Longfeather became Peacemaker and Lawgiver to all that region, and on account of its central location he established his official head-quarters upon the very spot where the great assemblage had been held. Thus was founded the village of Peace, in which all questions affecting relations between the tribes were discussed and treaties were made. It was a place of refuge to which all persons accused of wrong-doing and in danger of their lives might flee, with a certainty of protection until their cases could be considered by the Peacemaker. It also became a trading-point to which were attracted the skilled makers of such articles as were most in demand among the tribes.

Large areas of nearby lands were brought under cultivation, and these, fertilized with fish taken in quantities from the teeming river, produced wonderful crops of beans, maize, and pumpkins. No war-parties ever visited the village of Peace, but there was a constant coming and going of strangers. To it travelled the Abenakis, bringing furs, maple-sugar, and highly prized ornaments of copper that had come to them from the far west. Here they exchanged these things for bales of dried fish from the eastern coast, seal-skins, or belts of wampum. Here, also, they found expert makers of flint arrow-heads, knives, and hatchets, weavers of mats, and workers in clay, from whom they might procure rude vessels of earthen-ware.

Above all, here dwelt Longfeather, to whom could be submitted all disputed questions, with a certainty that he would settle them wisely and justly. Thus it happened that the village of Peace became the political capital and chief trading-point of all New England long before ever a white man had set foot in that region. Here, too, some twenty years after its founding, was born Nahma, the son of Longfeather, a lad whose strange adventures in after-life are now for the first time about to be related.

CHAPTER II CANONICUS MAKES TROUBLE

The boy thus introduced was carefully trained for the high position that he must some time fill. Although from his father he never heard an impatient or an unkind word, he was taught to respect his elders and to yield the most implicit obedience to those in authority over him. As soon as he was old enough to comprehend what he heard and saw he was permitted to sit beside the Peacemaker and listen to the discussion of matters affecting the well-being of the tribes. From Longfeather himself, from the old men of the village, and from the visitors who journeyed to it Nahma learned the traditions of his people. His father also taught him to distinguish the totems of tribes or clans, together with their significance, and illustrated his lessons by means of the pictured belts that hung in the council-house. From these same teachers Nahma also learned to believe in witchcraft and magic, by which alone were they able to account for many natural phenomena. Thus even in the years of his youth there came to Nahma a wisdom beyond that of all other lads, and his name became known from one end of the land to the other.

Nor during this time of mental training was that of his body neglected. Every day, even in the depth of winter, when ice must be broken before water could be reached, he was made to plunge into the river or the sea to toughen him and harden his flesh. He was taught to swim and to paddle a canoe before he could walk; and often in later years when trained runners were sent by Longfeather with messages to distant tribes, the lad was allowed to accompany them, that he might learn the trails, familiarize himself with remote localities and people, and acquire the art of traversing great spaces in the shortest possible time. So fleet of foot and so strong of wind did he thus become that he at one time covered the distance between the village of Peace and the sand-dunes of the Nausets on the edge of the great salt water between two suns, a feat never before accomplished, and at which all men marvelled.

After this Nahma was frequently chosen to be his father's messenger on occasions of importance, and very proud was the young warrior of the trust thus reposed in him. Thus it happened that one day in the lad's eighteenth year, when a matter of grave import demanded prompt communication with a distant point in a region of danger, Longfeather naturally turned to Nahma, his son.

Troublous times had come, and the safety of the region so long ruled by the Peacemaker was seriously threatened. To consider the situation Longfeather had assembled a council of the tribes at Montaup, on the edge of the salt water. This was the great gathering-place of the Wampanoags, and to it their chieftain with his family was accustomed to resort during the heated months of each summer. So here the council was met, and after the calumet had passed entirely around its seated circle Longfeather addressed the chiefs as follows:

"It is well that we are come together, for the shadow of trouble is upon us like that of a black cloud hiding the sun. While we be of many tribes we have until now been of one heart, and even from the days of Nassaup, my father, have we dwelt at peace one with another. Now, however, is that peace threatened, and I have summoned you to see what may be done."

Here the speaker took one from a bundle of small sticks and handed it to the oldest chief, saying, "Take this peace-stick, my brother, and remember its meaning." Then to the others he continued,—

"For a long time, from our fathers, and from their fathers before them, have we heard tales of strange, white-skinned beings armed with thunderbolts, who have come from the sea. We have listened with trembling, but have comforted ourselves that these strangers, whom we took to be gods, appeared not on our shores, but at places far removed. Also we heard that they tarried not; but always, after a short stay, departed as they had come. Take this stick, my brother, and regard it with respect, for it indicates the belief of our fathers."

Thus saying, Longfeather handed a second stick from his bundle to the aged chief. Then resuming his address, he said,—

"But all our comfort has vanished with the gaining of wisdom. Nearer and more frequent have come tales of the whiteskins, until now we know them to be men like unto ourselves, only of a different color and having hairy faces. They are armed with thunder-sticks that can kill at three times the flight of our strongest arrows. Also have we learned that these men are borne to our coast in mighty canoes built by themselves and driven by the wind. We know that many of these canoes come for fish to the salt waters of the Tarratines. Not only do they thus come and go in ever-increasing numbers, but they even visit the land to care for the fish they have taken. Accept this stick, my brother, to remind thee of the white-skinned men who fish." With this Longfeather handed a third stick to the old man.

"Still," he continued, "the white fish-catchers do not attempt to remain with us, nor have they thus far given us cause to fear them. Some of their lesser canoes, small when compared with those in which they come and go, but large by the side of ours, even as the eagle is larger than the hawk, have drifted empty to our shores, and our young men have made use of them. Also at times the great winged canoes of the white men have been seen to pass our coast, but never until the season of last corn-planting have they tarried. Then came one to the country of the Narragansetts, where it remained for the space of three moons. This stick, my brother, will refresh thy memory concerning the coming and tarrying of the great white canoe." With this the speaker passed a fourth stick to the old chief. Then deliberately and with emphasis he resumed his speech, saying,—

"On an island that they occupied the strangers who came in this canoe erected a lodge. Many of you have seen it and them. They roamed through the forest making thunder and killing beasts with their fire-sticks. Above all, they traded with the Narragansetts, giving them knives and hatchets made of an unknown metal, strong and sharp, kettles that fire may not harm, and many other things in exchange for skins of the beaver. Only with their thunder-sticks they would not part. By many it was feared that they would remain and attempt to possess the land that is our land. But after a time they departed, and the heart of Longfeather was glad when he knew they were gone. At the same moment his heart was again made heavy, for they gave out that they would come again, bringing great wealth to exchange for beaver. Take this stick, my brother, to remind thee that the white men will come again.

"Now, my friends, what has happened? It is this. The Narragansetts are puffed up with pride because they are possessed of knives and hatchets better and more deadly than any ever before seen in all the world. Also, they desire to obtain more of such things and to learn the secret of the thunder-sticks that kill as far as one may see. Therefore did Canonicus, head sachem of the Narragansetts, propose secretly to me that when the great canoe came again I should order the white men to be killed, that he and I might possess ourselves of their wealth, and so become as gods, all-powerful in the land. This stick, my brother, marks the proposition of Canonicus.

"To the evil words of the Narragansett I refused to listen, saying to him that to do what he had in his mind would surely bring upon our heads the wrath of the Great Spirit. Furthermore, I bade Canonicus put such evil thoughts far behind him and consider them no more. This stick, my brother, is Longfeather's answer to Canonicus.

"Again, my friends, what has happened? The Narragansett promised to open wide his ears that the words of Longfeather might sink into his heart. Did he do this? No. He closed tight his ears that they might not hear, and began to look for others who would aid him in his wickedness. So far did his eyes travel that they came even to the land of the Maquas [Mohawks], who from the days of the first men have been our enemies. To them is he preparing to send messengers with presents and a promise of great wealth, together with power over all the tribes, if they will join him in destroying the next white men who may come. Canonicus was bidden to this council, but I cannot see him. This stick, my brother, will tell thee of his black heart. I have finished."

So long did the council discuss this situation and so many were the speeches to be delivered on the subject, that a decision was not reached until late on the second day of meeting. Then it was ordered that Canonicus should be summoned to report in person to the assembled chiefs, who for two days longer would await his coming. If at the end of that time he had not appeared, a war-party of the allied tribes should be sent to fetch him. In the mean time Longfeather would send a delegation to the Maquas bearing presents, and offering, on behalf of the combined New England tribes, a treaty that should secure to all equal benefits from whatever trade might be had with the white-skinned strangers. It was furthermore agreed that so long as the white men proved themselves friendly they should be treated as friends. "For," said the Peacemaker, "they are few and we are many, they are weak while we are strong, therefore let us live at peace with them, if indeed they come to us again, a thing that I trust may not happen. So shall we please the Great Spirit who made them, doubtless for some good reason, even as he made the red man and gave him control over the earth."

So it was done even as the council had ordered, and a runner was despatched to Canonicus with a summons for him to appear at Montaup, and forbidding him to treat with the Maquas. Also active preparations were made for sending an embassy to that powerful people on behalf of the allied New England tribes, and to his joy Nahma was chosen to accompany it as his father's representative.

CHAPTER III AT THE CROSSING OF THE SHATEMUC

The whole land to the very edge of the great salt water, and including the islands of the sea, was covered with a forest that sheltered it alike from summer heats and the deadly cold of winter. Stately pines growing on hill-sides lifted their evergreen heads far above all other trees, and stood as ever-watchful sentinels. Mighty oaks shaded wide-spread areas, while graceful elms were mirrored in lake and river. Everywhere the painted maples flaunted their brilliant colors, while chestnut, beech, hickory, and walnut showered down bountiful stores of food to those trusting in them for a winter's supply. Man, beast, and bird, all children of the forest, dwelt within its safe protection and were fed from its exhaustless abundance. Its rivers and smaller streams, filled from brimming reservoirs and unobstructed by dams, afforded highways of travel ever ready for use and always in the best of repair. Besides these, the forest was threaded with trails worn by countless generations of Indian runners, traders, hunters, and fighters, and these were as familiar to the dwellers in the shade as are the streets of a city to one born within its walls.

Along one of these devious trails, narrow and so dim that an unpractised eye would quickly have lost it, sped a solitary runner. He was young and goodly to look upon, while his movements were as graceful as those of the deer, whose soft-tanned skins constituted his attire. He was bareheaded, and in his hair was fastened a single feather from the wing of an osprey or fishing eagle.

A noticeable feature of his costume was a broad belt of wampum, worn diagonally across his breast so that it might readily be seen and recognized. On it at short intervals were worked seven figures representing birds, beasts, and fishes, for it was the Belt of Seven Totems, indicating the authority of Longfeather the Peacemaker, and the young runner now wearing it so conspicuously was none other than Nahma, his only son.

While Longfeather awaited the return of his messenger to Canonicus and made ready the presents intended for Sacandaga, chief sachem of the Maquas, news came that the Narragansett embassy to that same powerful chieftain had already set forth on its mission. Thus there was no time to be lost if his own message was to reach Sacandaga first, an event that he deemed to be of the utmost importance. The chiefs whom he desired to send as ambassadors could not travel at greater speed than could the Narragansetts, who had a two days' start, but it was possible that a fleet-footed runner might even yet overtake and pass them. As this thought flashed through Longfeather's mind he knew that if the thing might be done it could only be accomplished by the swiftest of all his runners, and he promptly caused Nahma to be summoned.

At that moment the young warrior was listening with eager interest to the stories of white men and their great winged canoes, told by Samoset, an Abenaki youth of his own age, who had accompanied his chieftain to the council at Montaup.

"What do they call their tribe?" inquired Nahma, "and of what nature is their speech? Doth it resemble ours so that one may comprehend their words?"

"They appear to be of many tribes," replied Samoset, "though we call them all 'Yengeese.' Also they speak with many tongues, strange and unpleasant to the ear."

"What are they like, these tongues? Hast thou not caught some word that we may hear?"

"Often they say 'Hillo' and 'Sacré,'" replied Samoset, "but what these mean I know not. Also, once, where from hiding I watched them cooking fish on a beach, a pebble rolled from me to them. As they sprang up in alarm I slipped away, fearing lest they might take offence. As I did so one of them cried out very loud, 'Mass i-sawit!'" (By the mass I saw it.)

"Massasoit," repeated Nahma, thoughtfully. "It hath a familiar sound, and might be a word of the Wampanoags, except that it is without meaning. I long greatly to see these white-skinned fish-catchers and their big canoes that resemble floating hill-tops with trees growing in them. So if it may be arranged I will return with thee, Samoset, to look upon these wonders. But you have said naught of the thunder-sticks about which we hear so much. What of them? Are they indeed as terrible as represented?"

Ere Samoset could answer, Nahma received word that Longfeather desired his presence, and, promising shortly to rejoin his companions, he left them. Ten minutes later, without their knowledge or that of any person in all Montaup, save only his parents, the young runner had left his father's lodge bound on a solitary mission, longer, more important, and more dangerous than any he had heretofore undertaken. He was to make his way with all speed and in utmost secrecy to Sacandaga, head sachem of the Maquas, and urge him, in the name of Longfeather, not to treat with the Narragansetts or any other single tribe before the arrival of the Peacemaker's own embassy.

Longfeather had given his instructions hastily and in a few words. He had invested the lad with his own superb belt as a badge of authority, and had dismissed him with the peremptory orders of a sachem, delivered in the loving tone of a father who sends his only son into danger.

Besides the Belt of Seven Totems, Nahma carried only a bow and arrows slung to his back, a wallet of parched corn bruised in a mortar until it formed a coarse meal, a small fire-bag of flints and tinder, and a copper knife, the precious gift of his father. Having taken but five minutes for preparation, he tenderly embraced his mother and bade her farewell. Filled with a presentiment of coming evil, Miantomet clung to him as though she could not let him go; but, comforting her with loving words, the lad gently disengaged her arms from about his neck and sprang away. In another minute he had plunged into the forest and was lost to sight amid its blackness.

For some hours the way was partially revealed by the light of a young moon, and by the time of its setting Nahma had placed a score of miles between him and Montaup. Then, as he could no longer make speed through the darkness, he flung himself down at the foot of a great oak and was almost instantly fast asleep.

By earliest dawn he was again on the trail, and all that day he sped forward with hardly a pause. Occasionally he passed a group of bark huts nestled beside some smooth-flowing stream and surrounded by rudely tilled fields; but at none of these did he halt, save only now and then for a few mouthfuls of food. The belt that he wore insured him everywhere a glad welcome and instant service. He forded or swam the smaller streams; while at points where his trail crossed rivers he always found canoes that he did not hesitate to appropriate to his own use if their owners were not at hand. He was on the king's business and nothing might delay it.

Thus Nahma sped so swiftly on his errand that an hour before sunset of the second day found him, very weary but exultant, on the eastern bank of the Shatemuc and at the border of the country claimed by the Iroquois, of whom the Maquas were the easternmost tribe. He was farther from home than he had ever been before and in a region of which he had no knowledge. At the same time he knew that the Maquas, being now at peace with the New England tribes, were accustomed to send hunting-parties east of their great river, and so he had hoped to find one or more canoes at the crossing. In this, however, he was disappointed, for, search as he might, he could discover none of the desired craft, though he found a place where several had but recently been concealed.

As there were no other traces of human presence in that vicinity, Nahma concluded that the canoes had been taken by persons coming from across the river. He did not suspect that it might have been done by the Narragansetts whom he was striving to outstrip; for thus far he had discovered no sign of them, and had reached a conclusion that they must have taken some other trail. At any rate, there was no canoe to be had, and, as he was determined to cross the river before dark, he must swim it. This he did, keeping dry his scanty clothing and few belongings by floating them on a small raft of bark that he pushed before him. Arrived on the farther side our young runner made a startling discovery. Not only were a number of canoes drawn out on the bank and concealed beneath overhanging bushes, but on the soft ground beside them he found the unmistakable imprint of Narragansett moccasins. Also, a short distance back from the river, he came upon the still smouldering remains of a small fire. At length, then, he was close upon the heels of his rivals, and he must at all hazards pass them that night in order to gain a first hearing from Sacandaga. At the same time he was in immediate need of food and rest, for he was faint with hunger and exhausted by his recent exertions. There was no sign of danger, his rivals had gone on, and the fire they had so kindly provided invited him to cook food that was to be had for the taking.

So abounding with fish were all the streams of that land that no one possessed of even ordinary skill at catching them need go hungry. Nahma was well aware of this, and, taking a pinch of his parched corn, he stepped back to the river's bank and cast it upon the water. In another moment he had transfixed with an unerring arrow one of the half-dozen large fish that rushed greedily to the surface, and his supper was provided. Having cooked it and satisfied his ravenous hunger, the lad withdrew to a thicket well beyond the circle of firelight and flung himself down for an hour of sleep before continuing his journey.

The young runner was lost to consciousness within a minute after closing his eyes; but not until his heavy breathing gave notice of the fact did a painted savage, who for more than an hour had watched his every movement, drop to the ground from among the branches of a thick-leaved oak. There he had crouched as motionless as a panther awaiting its prey; and now, after stretching his cramped limbs, he stole with catlike tread towards the sleeping youth.

CHAPTER IV THE BELT CHANGES HANDS

In all the history of the world it has happened that dwellers by the sea have been more advanced and prosperous than their inland neighbors. Thus, in the present instance, the Wampanoags and the Narragansetts were the most numerous and powerful of the New England tribes. There had always been jealousies and often open warfare between them, nor had these wholly ceased to exist upon the election of Longfeather to the high office of Peacemaker. Canonicus, head sachem of the Narragansetts, felt that he was equally entitled to be thus honored, and consequently was bitterly jealous of his successful rival. This feeling was shared by his nephew and adopted son, Miantinomo, only that the envy and hatred of the latter were directed against Nahma, whose place as future ruler of the allied tribes he was determined to occupy, if by any means such a thing might be accomplished.

Thus, when Canonicus planned to secure a power greater than that of Longfeather by forming an alliance with the eastern Iroquois, he found in Miantinomo an eager assistant. So, even as the Peacemaker had chosen his own son to represent him in the mission to Sacandaga, Canonicus selected Miantinomo for a similar position in the Narragansett embassy. In this way, without either being aware of the fact, the two young rivals became actively pitted against each other in the most important undertaking of their lives.

While urged to make all possible haste, the Narragansett party was obliged to adapt its pace to that of the oldest chief among them; and while they expected that Longfeather would also send messengers to the Maquas, they fancied these would be equally restricted as to speed. They knew that they had a start of at least two days, and believed they could reach Sacandaga's village, transact their business, and depart for home before the coming of their rivals. At the same time they neglected no precaution to insure the success of their undertaking. They struck the Shatemuc at a point much lower than that reached by Nahma, and from it ascended the river in canoes. As they advanced they kept sharp watch of the eastern shore, and removed all craft found on it to the opposite side of the river. Their last exploit of this kind was at a place where they must again take to the land and follow a trail to the Maqua villages.

Having thus provided for a further delay of the other party, they felt no apprehension of being overtaken, and proceeded leisurely on their journey. They did, however, take the added precaution of leaving a scout behind them to watch the crossing until sunset. For this purpose they selected Miantinomo, as being the keenest-eyed and swiftest-footed of their party. So Nahma's most active rival and secret enemy was left to cover the rear, while his elders disappeared in single file up the narrow trail.

According to Indian custom Miantinomo had brought pigments with him, and now he relieved the tedium of his watch, which he did not believe would amount to anything, by painting his body in anticipation of a speedy arrival at the Maqua villages. So interested was he in this occupation that for a time he forgot everything else; then, startled by a splash in the river, he glanced up. A swimmer, just emerged from deep water, was wading ashore pushing before him a small raft, and Miantinomo instantly recognized him. Being hidden behind a screen of bushes, and satisfied that Nahma was still ignorant of his presence, the young Narragansett, crouching low, made his way to a thick-leaved oak that overhung the trail a short distance back from the river, and was snugly hidden among its branches by the time Nahma gained the land.

Miantinomo was not wholly surprised to discover the son of Longfeather at this place; but he could not understand why he should be alone. It must be that he had come to obtain canoes in which to bring over the others of his party. Thus thinking, he expected to see Nahma at once recross the river. In that case he would hasten after his own companions and urge them to travel all night, that they might still reach the Maqua villages in advance of their rivals.

But the new-comer failed to do as expected, and Miantinomo was more puzzled than ever at witnessing his preparations to secure a meal and spend some time where he was. He evidently was alone, and after the spy became convinced of this, he wondered if by some means he might not prevent Longfeather's messenger from continuing his journey. He was also filled with a great longing to possess himself of the Belt of Seven Totems, which he recognized as Nahma again assumed it. Well did the young Narragansett realize the power conferred upon the wearer of that belt. If it should be opposed to him in the presence of Sacandaga, then would his mission prove a failure and his uncle's cherished plan would come to naught. On the other hand, if the all-powerful belt could be made to appear in his behalf, if he only might possess it even for a short time, how easy would become his task!

From the moment these thoughts entered his mind Miantinomo was determined to acquire the coveted object by any means that should offer. He knew that Nahma would never relinquish the belt of his own free will, and that it must be taken from him by either stealth or force. He knew also that should he succeed in his wicked design he would incur the vengeance of Longfeather, and doubtless bring on a war in which all the New England tribes would be involved. But what of that? Would not the powerful Iroquois fight on the side of the Narragansetts; and, armed with the white man's weapons, might they not successfully defy the world?

Filled with these ambitious thoughts, Miantinomo flattened himself closer against the great oak limb and, regardless of the discomfort of his position, watched with glittering eyes every movement of his rival. More than anything else he resembled a venomous serpent awaiting an opportunity to spring upon an unsuspecting victim. At his back was a bow and a quiver of flint-headed arrows, with one of which he might easily have stricken Nahma to the earth at any moment, but he was not yet prepared to shed innocent blood for the accomplishment of his purpose. Besides, he dared not make a movement that might attract the other's attention. So he waited with all the patience of his race and an ever-strengthening resolve to obtain possession of the Peacemaker's belt.

In the mean time Nahma, utterly unconscious of the dangerous presence so close at hand, procured, cooked, and ate his supper, selected what he believed to be a safe resting-place, and laid himself down for a nap. The moment for which Miantinomo had waited was at hand, and with noiseless movement he slipped to the ground. For a few seconds he stood motionless behind the tree, to assure himself that his rival had not been aroused; then with catlike tread he stole towards the unsuspecting sleeper.

At length he stood beside Nahma and bent over him with the coveted belt easily within his reach. Bits of moonlight sifting through leafy branches fell upon it and upon the upturned face of the sleeper. So profound was his slumber that Miantinomo believed he might remove the belt without disturbing him, and laying his stone-headed war-club within easy reach, he began with the utmost caution to make the attempt. It had very nearly succeeded, and the belt, partially loosened, was within his grasp, when, without warning, Nahma opened his eyes. Miantinomo leaped back at the first sign of waking, and as his victim attempted to gain his feet a crushing blow stretched him again on the ground motionless and to all appearance dead.

For a moment the young Narragansett stood ready to repeat his cowardly assault; but, seeing that a second blow was unnecessary, he again bent over the body of his rival and snatched from it the belt for which he had been willing to risk so much. With his prize thus secured, he was about to hasten from the spot when another thought caused him to pause. It would never do to leave the evidence of his crime where it was so certain to be discovered. He had not meant to kill Nahma, and now that the awful deed was committed, he trembled at thought of its possible consequences. Even his own people would regard him with abhorrence if they knew of it, while the vengeance of Longfeather would be swift and terrible. Therefore what he had done must never be known even by his nearest friends, and before leaving that spot he must remove all traces of his murderous deed. Stripping off his scanty raiment that it might not become bloodstained, he lifted the limp form of the stricken youth, and carrying it some distance down the stream, flung it into the river. He heard the heavy splash of the body as it struck the water, but was too nervous to make further inquiry as to its condition. Thus whether it sank or floated he did not know, nor did he seek to discover, but fled from the spot as though pursued.

Reaching the place where he had left his garments and the belt, he hastily resumed the former, and concealed the latter beneath them. Then he set forth at top speed to rejoin his companions and report that he had seen nothing alarming during his watch by the river-side.

On the following day the Narragansett embassy reached the Maqua villages, where, in spite of their alluring proposition and valuable presents, they were at first received with coldness and suspicion. At the council assembled to hear their talk Sacandaga flatly refused to make an alliance with any one of the New England tribes, and the Narragansetts retired from it believing that the cherished plan of Canonicus must come to naught.

That night, however, Miantinomo sought a private interview with the Maqua sachem, and displayed to him the Belt of Seven Totems, which Sacandaga at once recognized, since its fame had spread far and wide. "It is the belt of Longfeather," he said, after a close inspection.

"Yes," replied Miantinomo, "it is the belt of the great Peacemaker, who is also my father."

"How can that be?" asked the other. "May a man have two fathers?"

"By adoption, yes," answered the young Narragansett. "Having no son of his own, Longfeather has adopted the nephew of his friend Canonicus, that in time their tribes may be united under one chief. To the Narragansetts I am known as Miantinomo, but by all others am I called Nahma, son of Longfeather."

"I have heard the name and it is described as being that of a most promising warrior," said Sacandaga, regarding the young man with renewed interest.

"One blessed with two such fathers should indeed prove himself worthy," was the modest reply. "In proof that I am regarded as a son by Longfeather," he continued, "the Peacemaker has intrusted me with this token of authority. Never before has he parted with it, and to none, save only the mighty chief of the Maquas, whose friendship he greatly desires, would he send it. Also he has done this thing in secret, so that even those who come with me know not that I am intrusted with so great authority."

So impressed was Sacandaga by this flattering statement and by sight of the belt offered in evidence of its sincerity, that he not only listened attentively to the young man's proposals, but finally agreed to accept them.

"With Canonicus alone I could not have treated," he said, "for he is but one of many; but with Longfeather, who represents the many, I may enter into a compact."

"The words of Sacandaga are good," replied Miantinomo, gravely, "and will be as the singing of birds in the ears of Longfeather. At the same time I trust it will not be forgotten that they may not be sent directly to him. For the present he would not have it known that he desires the wealth of the white-skinned strangers. If they think him a friend they will the more readily fall into the snare he will set for them. Therefore, my father, let the public treaty be made only between Sacandaga and Canonicus, for Longfeather will be well pleased to have it so proclaimed."

"I understand and will not forget," replied the Maqua chief.

Thus through treachery and deceit did the wily young Narragansett gain his point and accomplish the mission with which he had been intrusted by Canonicus.

CHAPTER V WHAT THE DAUGHTERS OF KAWERAS FOUND

Sacandaga secretly gave to Miantinomo a belt of wampum bearing the emblem of a tortoise, his own totem, to be transmitted to Longfeather, while publicly he gave another to the Narragansett chiefs for Canonicus. After the formalities of the treaty as well as the private negotiations were concluded, Miantinomo urged the immediate departure of his companions lest they might discover his evil doings. Then, having got them well started on their homeward journey, he hastened on in advance. For this he gave an excuse that the whites who were to be plundered might appear at any time, and that every hour was now of importance. His real reason was the belief that Longfeather must also have sent a delegation of chiefs to confer with the Maquas, and a determination to meet them and, if possible, turn them back. So, while his companions took a trail different from the one by which they had come, Miantinomo hastened back to the place where he had encountered Nahma, and found those who had followed the son of Longfeather camped on the opposite bank of the river awaiting the coming of canoes in which to cross over.

For some time after his appearance among them they asked no questions, but waited in dignified silence to learn of his errand to them. Finally, the young man said,—

"My fathers, you are following Nahma, the son of Longfeather, on a mission to Sacandaga, the Iroquois. Is it not so?"

"It is as my young brother has said," replied one of the chiefs.

"Then you may be spared a farther journey," continued Miantinomo, "for Nahma, by virtue of the belt he wore, the great Belt of Seven Totems, readily gained the ear of Sacandaga, even while I and those with me were vainly striving to do so. Thus did he make a treaty with the Iroquois on behalf of Longfeather, his father, and for fear that you might claim a share in the honor he has returned to Montaup by another trail. Even now he travels with those of my people who kept me company. I have come by this trail that I may visit the village of Peace before returning to my father. For this I was heavy-hearted; but now am I glad, because I have met with you, and may so save you a useless journey."

For some time the chiefs discussed this report of Miantinomo; and then, because they did not wholly trust him, they decided to retain him as a hostage while one of their number visited the Maqua villages for confirmation of his words.

During the absence of this messenger Miantinomo was filled with apprehension, though he carefully hid his feelings and affected the utmost unconcern. He even went so far as to advise Longfeather's commissioners to appropriate to their own use the presents they were bearing to Sacandaga, and seek their respective homes without reporting to the Peacemaker.

"The treaty has been made," he said. "The sachem of the Maquas is satisfied and expects nothing further. You have been put to much trouble and will have no share in the honor. Longfeather has no thought that the presents will be returned to him. Therefore is it best that you who have earned them should keep them."

To such arguments the chiefs listened not unwillingly; and when their messenger returned with a report that Miantinomo had spoken truly concerning what had taken place in the Maqua village, they decided to accept his advice.

"Why should Longfeather have intrusted the Belt of Seven Totems to one so young and inexperienced as Nahma instead of to us?" they asked. "Also why did he not tell us that he had done so? Truly he has shamed us, and if we take his presents to wipe out our shame, then shall we do that which is right and good."

Having reached this conclusion, each took a share and went his way; while Miantinomo, rejoicing at the complete success of his evil designs and still wearing next his skin the Belt of Seven Totems that was the badge of highest authority in all that land, returned to his own people. There he busied himself with the secret spreading of various reports concerning the young rival with whom he had dealt so foully. One was that Nahma had taken a Maqua girl to wife and would thereafter dwell among the Iroquois. Another was to the effect that he had been murdered by his companions of Longfeather's embassy for the sake of the belt that he wore, as well as for the presents intrusted to them, which they had taken for their own benefit.

From Sacandaga himself Longfeather learned that a young man named Nahma and wearing the Belt of Seven Totems had indeed visited the Maqua villages, from which he had departed again in company with the Narragansett chiefs. Although the latter denied this and declared that they had not seen Nahma, Miantinomo maintained that he had met him in Sacandaga's village and spoken with him.

By these and other conflicting stories was the fate of Nahma so shrouded in mystery that it became impossible to discover what had really befallen him, and finally his friends mourned for him as for one who is dead. Even while they thus mourned it became rumored that either Canonicus or Miantinomo, his adopted son, would succeed Longfeather in the high office of Peacemaker and ruler of the allied New England tribes.

In the mean time, while all these events were happening, Nahma knew nothing of them nor indeed of anything else, for he lay tossing with fever in the lodge of Kaweras, principal arrow-maker of the Maquas. When, apparently dead, he had been flung into the river to disappear forever from human eyes, he had fallen among a bed of reeds in a place where the water was too shallow to drown him. There he lay motionless through the long night hours, half in the water and half out of it, while the tall reeds whispered and rustled above his head. Soft-flitting night-birds gazed at him with wondering eyes, while timid animals coming to the river to drink sniffed the air tainted by his presence and fled in terror.

Towards morning a glimmer of returning life entered the numbed brain, and in striving to obey its commands the poor bruised body began to make feeble movements. By sunrise Nahma was sitting up and gazing stupidly at the green wall by which he was surrounded. Also he muttered over and over, with tedious repetition, three meaningless words: "Hillo, Sacré," and "Massasoit." Other than this he gave no sign of restored consciousness. He did not take heed even when a sound of merry voices came to the place where he sat, nor was his attention attracted by a loud swish and rustle of the reeds that came ever nearer until it was close at hand. Then there was a momentary silence, broken only by the monotonous repetition of "Hillo, Sacré, Massasoit."

A stifled exclamation and excited whispers announced that these words had at length reached human ears, but there was an evident hesitation while fear struggled with curiosity. After a minute the reeds in front of Nahma were noiselessly parted, and the bow of a canoe stole into sight inch by inch with almost imperceptible motion. From it peered the face of a young girl, bright and fascinating, but big-eyed with apprehension as that of a startled fawn. As she caught a glimpse of the wounded youth the progress of the canoe was instantly arrested, while the girl became rigidly motionless. Her eyes, however, took in every detail of his appearance and of his melancholy situation. He still appeared to see nothing and still repeated the words that had attracted attention, "Hillo, Sacré, Massasoit."

AS SHE CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF THE WOUNDED YOUTH THE PROGRESS
OF THE CANOE WAS INSTANTLY ARRESTED

"What is it, sister? What do you see?" came in a frightened whisper from an unseen speaker who occupied the farther end of the canoe; but the other, still gazing motionless, made no reply. "Aeana," insisted the invisible one in a louder tone, "tell me quickly what you see. I am frightened."

"I see nothing to be afraid of, Otshata," replied the girl in the bow of the canoe. "It is a young man, but he is evidently sorely wounded and regards not our presence. There, you may see for yourself." With this the girl called Aeana pulled the canoe into such a position that the other could catch a glimpse of Nahma.

"It is certain that he is handsome," whispered Otshata; "but is not his condition dreadful? Let us hasten and report it to our father."

"No," answered Aeana, decisively. "That is," she added, "we will return to our father, and that quickly, but we must either take this young man with us or leave him to perish. See you not that the river is flowing backward and that its waters are rising? If we leave him he must die, since he is in no condition to care for himself. How we may get him into the canoe I know not, but if that can be done we will carry him to Kaweras, our father."

The elder though more timid sister attempted a further expostulation, but without heeding her Aeana brought the canoe close to where the wounded youth still sat, indifferent alike to his fate and his surroundings, idly repeating the strange words that had fixed themselves in his bewildered brain. Aeana spoke to him, but he failed to comprehend what she said. She laid a gentle hand on his arm and endeavored to persuade him into the canoe, but he sat passively motionless.

Finally in despair the girl uttered one of the strange words that he so constantly repeated. "Massasoit," she said, and the youth looked at her, seeming for the first time to recognize her presence. A faint smile flickered across his blood-smeared features, and he made a movement towards her. In another moment, aided by her supple strength, he had gained the interior of the canoe, and lay weakly with closed eyes while the two girls pulled it out from among the reeds. Then seizing their paddles, they urged the light craft swiftly down the river towards their father's lodge.

Thus did the daughters of Kaweras, who had been sent to fetch a bundle of stout reeds that might serve as shafts for bird arrows, return without them, but bringing a wounded and unconscious youth in their place.

Although the old arrow-maker saw at a glance that the young warrior was not of the Maqua, nor even of the Iroquois people, his ideas of hospitality did not permit him to ask questions nor hesitate a moment before attending to the stranger's needs. It required the united strength of father and daughters to transfer Nahma from canoe to lodge, and when he was finally laid in the latter on a hastily improvised couch of boughs and skins, he was once more to all appearance dead.

CHAPTER VI IN THE LODGE OF THE ARROW-MAKER

The lodge of Kaweras, occupied only by him and his two daughters, stood by itself in a grassy glade shaded by elms on the western bank of the lordly Shatemuc. Close at hand flowed a spring of crystal water, while at no great distances were abundant materials for the prosecution of the old arrow-maker's trade. Nearby hills furnished him with flints and slate, agate and milk-white quartz; stout reeds and tough, straight-grained woods were to be had for the taking. Deer of the forest yielded him their strong back-sinews for binding arrow-head to shaft, and myriads of sea-fowl flying up or down the broad river gave him of their feathers. In his younger days Kaweras had been a noted warrior. Now he was the most expert arrow-maker of the region in which he dwelt. He was also a mystic, a prophet, and one well versed in the science of healing by means of herbs, roots, bark, and leaves.

In his double capacity of arrow-maker and medicine-man Kaweras was much sought after, and though his lodge stood remote from any village of his people, it was rarely without visitors. Young warriors came for arrows and to catch glimpses of his pretty daughters; their elders came to consult with him concerning grave affairs; while many of all ages and both sexes came for healing or to profit by his advice. As all brought gifts, Kaweras was well-to-do, and his larder was always stocked with choicest products of forest and field without effort on his own part or that of his daughters.

These last kept tidy the spacious lodge with its three divisions, of which only the outer one was for the general public, prepared the family meals, and did much sewing with needles of fishbone threaded with fibre or sinew. At the same time they found abundant leisure for paddling on the river in their canoe of white birch brought from the far north and for attending to the needs of their pets, two tame fawns and a large flock of wild ducks bred in captivity. Also they helped their father in the making of arrows, and especially in the gathering of material.

With this busy but uneventful life the elder sister was quite content, but Aeana always longed for excitement and adventure. Now she had found both in the coming to their quiet lodge of a stranger, young, mysterious, wounded to the point of death, and speaking a language to which even the wisdom of her father could find no clue. Furthermore, she regarded him with a proprietary interest, for had she not discovered him and rescued him from almost certain destruction?

During the long illness that followed his coming, and while he lay oblivious to his surroundings, she often gazed curiously upon his face, listened to the three strange words that he repeated to the exclusion of all others, and speculated concerning him. She became impatient for him to get well that he might tell her who he was, where he came from, and how he happened to be in the sad plight that had so nearly proved fatal. She would have talked of him to their many visitors but for her father's expressed wish that Nahma's presence in their lodge should be kept a secret from all men. Kaweras hoped thus to learn something concerning him from unguarded conversations, but in this he was disappointed. It is true that he heard of the mysterious disappearance of Nahma, the son of Longfeather, but whenever that youth was mentioned Miantinomo was described, and as this description did not coincide in any particular with the appearance of his patient, he had no reason to connect the two.

Otshata was quite as much interested in the young stranger as was her sister, but in another way. She thought him very handsome, which Aeana would not admit, and secretly rejoiced in the helplessness that depended so largely upon her gentle ministrations. She had the motherly instinct that found pleasure in self-sacrifice, and from the first constituted herself chief nurse of the stricken youth.

For a long time it was doubtful if Nahma would ever recover from the illness by which he was prostrated; but after it finally took a turn for the better he began rapidly to mend. On the day that he first ventured outside the lodge into the freedom of open air there was much rejoicing in the little family, but it was tinged with sadness. Although weak and emaciated from his long sickness, he was still a goodly youth to look upon, and gave promise of speedily regaining his physical powers; but his mind was that of a child. He could neither tell nor remember anything of his former life, even its language was lost to him, and he could converse only in such words of the Iroquois tongue as he had acquired from his present associates. As he could not tell them his name, they called him "Massasoit," from the word he had most frequently uttered during his delirium, and this he accepted as readily as he did all else that they offered him.

While thus compelled to relearn everything that required mental effort, it was soon discovered that he had lost none of his cunning in matters calling for physical strength or skill. He could still shoot an arrow or hurl a spear with unerring aim, was rarely at fault on the dimmest trail, and proved himself an adept in such branches of Indian handiwork as usually fell to the share of warriors, such as the fashioning of weapons or the building of canoes. He soon regained a muscular strength even greater than that with which he had been endowed before his illness, while his fleetness of foot excited the wonder of his friends.

With all this Nahma was gentle and submissive to authority, a trait that aroused the utmost scorn in the mind of Aeana. From the time his mental weakness was discovered this high-spirited girl treated him as she would a child, bidding him come or go, fetch or carry, according as she felt inclined, and apparently she despised him for his ready obedience to her orders. He, on the other hand, regarded her with an intense admiration and sought in every way to win her favor. All his trophies of the chase were laid at her feet only to be contemptuously rejected or flung to Otshata. In the latter, however, the young man found a friend to whom his misfortune appealed so keenly that she treated him with unwearied kindness and tenderest consideration. He called her "sister," a term that he dared not apply to Aeana, and poured all his troubles into her sympathetic ear.

One day Nahma returned hot and weary from a chase that had lasted many hours and presented a noble stag to Aeana. Without taking notice of the gift, and careless of his evident weariness, she bade him fetch her water from the spring. As he willingly departed on this mission she regarded him with curling lip, and when he returned bearing a large earthen jar of water that he set before her, she promptly overturned it so that its contents were spilled. At the same time she uttered the single word "squaw" with an accent of utter contempt and entered the lodge, leaving him bewildered and mortified.

Walking slowly towards the river, he discovered Otshata seated in a shaded nook on its bank embroidering a moccasin with painted quills.

"My sister, why does Aeana hate me?" he asked, as he flung himself despondently on the turf beside her.

"She hates thee not, my brother," replied the other, interrupting her work to look at him.

"Truly she does. In every word and by every act she shows her dislike," declared Nahma, bitterly. "She would be glad never to see me more, and I will go away rather than remain longer to displease her by my presence."

"Speak not of such a thing!" exclaimed Otshata. "Whither would you go, and what should we do without our hunter? If Aeana seems to treat thee unkindly, it is only to inspire thee with a braver spirit. She likes it not that one come to the estate of a warrior should tamely serve her. She would have thee do brave deeds, and also she would have thee remember thy past. Canst thou not do this, and by hard thinking recall some one thing? Who was thy father? Who struck the cruel blow that so nearly ended thy life? Who are thy people? Are they the Saganaga of the south, the Oneidas of the west, or wast thou born among the fish-eaters who dwell in the country of sunrising? I will not ask if thou hast Huron blood in thy veins; for in spite of thy moccasins I feel assured that thou art not of that wicked people."

By this reference Otshata recalled the fact that, when found wounded in the river sedge, Nahma had on his feet a pair of Huron-made moccasins procured in the village of Peace to replace others worn out by his journey; but of these he could give no account.

"I strive to remember," declared the youth, vehemently. "Night and day, sleeping and waking, I think till my head seems like to burst, but 'tis of no use. The only life that I know is here, and if I have had another, it is gone from me like a dream of the black hours. So it is well that I should go away, and if these Hurons be thy enemies and the enemies of Aeana, then will I go and fight against them that she may no longer despise and hate me."

"No, no!" cried Otshata. "Think not of the war-path, my brother. The Hurons are very fierce and terrible and cruel. Also they are so filled with evil designs that only the wisest and most experienced warriors may hope for success against them. Thee they would easily kill; or, what is worse, they would take advantage of thy simplicity to adopt thee and make thee sharer of their wickedness."

At this point the conversation was interrupted by a summons from Kaweras bidding Massasoit come to him quickly.

While it had been comparatively easy to keep secret the presence of a stranger in the lodge of Kaweras during his illness, it became impossible to do so after he was out and about. So a knowledge of the mysterious youth who could remember nothing of his past speedily became noised abroad, and many persons, attracted by curiosity, came to see him. The victim of these interviews dreaded them so intensely that he spent much time in remote forest depths to avoid them. Now, however, he was fairly caught, and going reluctantly to the lodge, followed at a distance by Otshata, he found himself in the presence of a distinguished-looking chieftain who was seated on a robe beside Kaweras. Behind them stood a group of warriors. As Nahma drew near the eyes of all these were fixed intently upon him, though no word was spoken until he paused within a few paces of his host.

CHAPTER VII NAHMA JOINS A WAR-PARTY

"Massasoit," said Kaweras, as the young man regarded him inquiringly, "I would have plumes from Ke-neu, the great eagle, to make a war-bonnet. He waits yonder for an invitation to come to us. Can you persuade him?"

With this the speaker pointed upward to where a golden eagle, attracted by a bait of raw flesh placed temptingly at some distance from the lodge, circled on motionless pinions.

Glancing in the direction indicated, Nahma stepped within the lodge, from which he quickly reappeared bearing a bow and three arrows. Again taking his station in front of Kaweras, he stood for a moment motionless, watching intently the movements of the eagle, that still circled slowly downward. One arrow was fitted to the bowstring, while the other two were stuck in the ground before him. Suddenly the youth lifted his weapon and let fly its feathered dart. Then he shot twice more with such marvellous rapidity of motion that the third arrow was leaving the bow ere the first had reached its mark. As the spectators uttered an involuntary exclamation of amazement, the great bird, evidently stricken to its death, plunged dizzily downward with feebly beating wings.

"Bring it," said the sachem, addressing those who stood behind him, and each taking the command to himself, all sprang away in a breathless race for the trophy.

"Do thou bring it," said Kaweras to Nahma.

Instantly the young bowman darted forward with such amazing swiftness that, despite the distance already gained by the others, he overtook and passed them ere they could reach the coveted goal. As he picked up the dead bird and bore it back the others made way for him, nor did one offer to take from him the prize that he had thus twice won. As he laid it at the feet of Kaweras the bird was seen to be transfixed by three arrows.

"The young man should be named Sharp-eye, Quick-hand, and Swift-foot," exclaimed the visiting sachem, who was none other than Sacandaga, "for he has proved himself to excel the best of my warriors in all these things. Not until this day have I believed the tales told me touching his skill; but now I know them to have been less than the truth. If he be as fearless as he is quick he should take high rank as a warrior. How say you, Massasoit? Will you go with me and my young men to do battle with the Hurons, who are reported to have 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.

CHAPTER VIII TWO YOUNG SCOUTS

For two days did Sacandaga's little expedition proceed up the Shatemuc, now making tedious carries around roaring waterfalls, and again laboriously hauling their laden canoes up some stretch of tumultuous rapids. At one of these places Sacandaga, bidding Nahma accompany him, left the river and made his way swiftly along a broad trail that led to the westward. After following it for a while they came to a place of many springs delightfully shaded by giant trees. Although no human being was to be seen, there were on all sides remnants of former encampments. Also the ground about certain of the springs was worn bare by innumerable hoof-prints, showing that deer and other animals were accustomed to gather here in great numbers. Deeply marked trails leading from every direction centred here, as though the springs formed a meeting-place for all people.

As Nahma noted these things Sacandaga smiled at his expression of astonishment. "It is Sara Tioga, the place of healing," he said. "To it come all who are sick or suffer pain that they may drink of the medicine waters and be cured. Many would be here now but for the report that an enemy is coming this way. When we have wiped him out then will we return hither, that we may rejoice with feasting and dancing. At that time will be seen a great gathering of the Iroquois, for this is the place of all their places that they most love. Now, however, we may tarry only long enough to drink of the life-giving waters and then must we hasten forward. In drinking take careful note of the spring most offensive to thy taste, for thus may be discovered which one is most needful to thy well-being."

So Nahma drank of all the springs, finding some of them salt, some sparkling with effervescence, and others so nauseous that he turned from them in disgust.

"I like none of them and will drink no more," he finally declared.

"Then must all of them be for thy good and thou must stand in need of all the elements they contain," answered his companion, who cared to hear naught but praise of his beloved springs. "But let us go, for we have no time to lose."

As they turned to depart from the beautiful place, Nahma suddenly sprang upon his companion with such violence that Sacandaga was hurled to the ground and the young man fell with him. At the same moment an arrow was buried to its shaft in the trunk of a beech a few paces in front of them, where it stood quivering with the force that had sped it. Even as he fell Nahma bounded up, and an instant later, when the startled sachem also gained his feet, he saw the young warrior darting back in the direction from which they had just come.

At the same time a third figure hideously daubed with war-paint appeared in plain view. He stood directly in front of the rash youth with bended bow and a second arrow drawn to its head. Quick as thought Nahma dropped, and the feathered missile flew harmlessly above him. As he again leaped to his feet his assailant turned to fly, but ere he had taken half a dozen steps he sprang convulsively into the air and plunged headlong with outstretched arms. An arrow sped from Sacandaga's bow had passed through his body.

"Why did you kill him?" asked Nahma, regretfully, as the two stood together looking down on the still twitching body of their late foe.

"Is it not what my young brother would have done?" inquired Sacandaga, in surprise.

"No; I would have caught him and made him tell me things."

"What things?"

"Why he hid from us and tried to kill us, who he was, and what he was doing here. I do not remember seeing him among thy young men."

Sacandaga smiled grimly. "He seems to have escaped being seen until he came within range of Quick-eye's vision; but all thy questions may be answered in a word. He is a Huron."

"A Huron!" cried Nahma. "How may that be, when he looks like other men? I thought a Huron was a wolf. Surely my father has said so."

"A Huron is a wolf in spirit," replied Sacandaga, as he stooped and deftly removed the dead man's scalp, "but the wolfish spirit is concealed beneath the semblance of a man."

"Then how may one know a Huron?" asked the puzzled youth.

"By his paint, his moccasins, the cut of his scalp-lock, the fashion of his weapons, his cast of feature, and by a thousand other signs as plain as the difference between light and darkness."

All these things had once been well known to Nahma; but now they were as though he had never before heard of them, and he listened eagerly to the words of Sacandaga's lesson.

"This time," concluded the sachem, "my young brother has done well, and to his quickness of sight combined with promptness of action do I owe my life. But never again, my son, run openly upon an enemy without first knowing his strength. It is seldom that a Huron spy comes alone into the Iroquois country, and had there been others, or even one other, with this one, thy death had been certain. Always when surprised seek first a place of hiding from which to discover the strength of thy enemy and plan for meeting him."

The Huron scout who had just paid the penalty of his daring was one of two sent to discover if the Iroquois had knowledge concerning the projected invasion of their country. His companion had remained with their canoe at the upper end of Andia-ta-roc-te (Lake George) while he had penetrated the country as far as the springs of healing, where, if the Iroquois felt themselves secure from invasion, he was certain to discover a number of their lodges. He was greatly disappointed at finding the place unoccupied, and was about to retrace his steps with the information that an alarm had been given, when Sacandaga and his young companion appeared on the scene. Hiding like a snake in the grass, the Huron watched these two with longing eyes while waiting to see if they would be followed by others. He recognized Sacandaga, and was determined if possible to carry back with him the scalp of that redoubtable chieftain.

An opportunity came as his enemies turned to depart, and he cautiously brought his bow into position. At that instant Nahma, glancing back, caught sight of a tip of the weapon projecting above the tall grasses and did the only thing possible to save his companion's life.

As the fortunate survivors of this episode left the scene of its occurrence they took a path leading northward, and after a time came again to the Shatemuc, having cut off a great bend of the river that the canoes must necessarily follow. As they went they discovered the slight trail left by the Huron scout, but at the river it was lost. Wading to the opposite bank, Nahma soon recovered it, and asked permission to follow it farther; but Sacandaga would not grant this until the arrival of the canoes. Then, after briefly relating what had happened, he selected a young warrior already famous as a trailer and ordered him to accompany Nahma over the path the Huron had come. This warrior was named Ah-mik-pan-pin, or the Grinning Beaver, on account of two prominent front teeth over which his lips were never wholly closed.

"Have a care," said Sacandaga on parting with the young men, "and run no risks for the sake of scalps. What I desire is a knowledge of the party to which that Huron belonged. I would know how large it is, where it is camped, and whether it is coming or going. Find out these things as quickly as may be and come again with thy news. The Maquas will sleep to-night at the foot of the great rock by the shore of the wide waters. They will have no fire and will make no sound, but he who utters the cry of wah-o-nai-sa (the whippoorwill) twice and then once will be answered by the same cry once and then twice. Go thou and come again quickly."

With this Nahma and Grinning Beaver set forth, and were instantly lost to view in the thickness of the forest. For two hours they sped forward without a pause, then they began to see spaces of light through the trees, and the Beaver intimated that they must now exercise the greatest caution.

"This trail will not lead us to them," he whispered, "for they will have moved to one side or the other after their runner left. Let us, then, go separately to the water's edge, thou on the one side and I on the other. Whoever reaches the beach first shall utter the cry of wah-o-nai-sa, and if it be not quickly answered he shall return to see what is wrong. Is it well?"

"It is well," replied Nahma, and the two went their respective ways as agreed.

With the utmost caution and without a sound louder than his own breathing did Nahma circle towards the lighted space marking the limit of the forest. All at once he stopped and listened. From behind him, faint and distant, he had heard an unmistakable exclamation of surprise.

It was not repeated nor did he hear further sounds, but it was enough, and after a moment of listening he started back over the way he had come. He found the place where he had parted from his companion, and then followed the slight trail made by the latter. Suddenly and without warning he came upon a sight so startling that he stood in his tracks like one petrified, gazing at it with dilated eyes.

Two warriors locked in a deadly embrace lay motionless on the ground. Their surroundings were drenched with blood, and to all appearance both were dead. Nahma stooped over them, and saw to his horror that one of the faces, so swollen and distorted that he had not sooner recognized it, was that of his recent comrade. The other was a Huron, and a knife still clutched by the Beaver's hand was buried to the hilt in his heart. At the same time his own fingers held the throat of the young Iroquois with a grip like that of a vise.

It required all of Nahma's strength to unlock that death-clutch, but at length he succeeded, and the two mortal foes so recently thrilled with vigorous life lay side by side stark and rigid.

CHAPTER IX ON THE LAKE

Nahma gazed about him in dismay. Night was coming on, he was alone in a place of which he had no knowledge, and he believed himself surrounded by enemies. He even fancied he could see dark faces peering at him from behind the shadowy tree-trunks. Above all, the companion upon whom he had relied for guidance and counsel lay dead at his feet. Although a savage himself, accustomed only to savage sights and ways, our lad had seen so little of death that this last fact seemed incredible. He kneeled beside the Beaver and gazed into his face, calling him by name in a low voice and bidding him open his eyes.

As he did this the dreadful aspect of the face on which he was looking suggested another that he had seen but a week earlier. It had been that of a man drowned in the Shatemuc and brought to the lodge of Kaweras. To all appearance he was dead, and yet the old arrow-maker had restored him to life. Nahma remembered perfectly what was done at that time, for he had closely watched every operation, and had even assisted Kaweras in his efforts. Now, in his despair over the present situation, but feeling that he could not yield to it without making some attempt at its betterment, he set to work upon the Beaver exactly as Kaweras had done with the drowned man. He turned the body on its face, drew forward the tongue, and cleared the mouth of froth. Then by rolling the body on its side and back again, at the same time applying a gentle pressure to back and breast, he forced air into and expelled it again from the lungs, thus producing an artificial breathing. After that he sought to restore circulation by rubbing upward along the legs. In all his efforts he was without hope of success and only worked for the sake of doing something. He was therefore utterly amazed as well as overjoyed to detect in his patient a slight gasping for breath. He could scarcely believe he had heard aright until it was repeated, and then he knew that the Beaver was still to be counted among those who lived.

Without thought of the danger from probable enemies, Nahma sprang to his feet, started towards the lake for water, and had gone half-way before he recalled that he had nothing in which to fetch it. Upon this he ran back, and picking up the still unconscious form of his companion, staggered to the beach with it in his arms. On his way he ran across a canoe concealed in a clump of bushes, but paid no attention to it for the moment.

As he laid his burden on the sand and glanced up to see if they were still safe from the presence of enemies, he detected a vague form some distance up the beach that disappeared within the forest even as he looked. It must of course be a Huron warrior, and doubtless others were with him. In that case to remain where they were meant certain destruction, and there was but one way to save his helpless companion as well as himself. The canoe that he had just discovered would at least bear them away from the treacherous forest and give them a fighting chance for their lives in the open.

In another minute Nahma had launched the light craft, placed his comrade inside, and was paddling furiously out over the lake. He had not gone more than one hundred yards when a series of yells from behind, and a flight of arrows sent with deadly intent, showed that his escape was discovered. Most of the arrows fell short, and none of them inflicted any damage. At the same time Nahma, glancing back, thought he saw other canoes coming down the coast.

It was now so nearly dark that all objects were indistinct, and if he could only maintain his lead for a short time longer he might still evade his pursuers. So the tired youth infused new energy into his paddling and urged his craft forward with redoubled speed. As he knew nothing of the lake, he had no idea where to look for the great rock beside which Sacandaga was to spend the night, nor was the Beaver in any condition to afford him information. So he held a course as far as possible from both shores and continued his paddling until nearly midnight, when he was forced by sheer exhaustion to give it over.

Dark as was the night, our lad could still distinguish the darker forms of occasional islands as he passed them, and at length drawing cautiously in towards one of these, he made a landing. In all this time the Beaver had been slowly struggling back to life, but he was still devoid of strength or a knowledge of his surroundings. So Nahma prepared as well as he could a bed of branches and grass, to which he bore his comrade. He also dragged up the canoe and turned it on its side to provide shelter from a drizzle of chill rain that was beginning to fall. Having completed these simple preparations, the youth ate a handful of parched corn drawn from his wallet, and lying down beside the Beaver was almost instantly fast asleep.

In regard to the necessaries of life the American of that day was in no degree removed from the beasts of the field. Like them he could thrive upon the natural products of the forest, and he also found its shelters sufficient for his needs even in the most inclement weather. With materials for a feast at hand he feasted; but when they were lacking he went without food uncomplainingly and for incredible lengths of time. If in the present instance our lad had dared allow himself the luxury of a fire he would quickly have acquired all the comforts of a home, including an abundance of cooked food, a good bed, warmth, and light. As it was he accepted cold, wet, hunger, and a most uncomfortable resting-place as things liable to be encountered at any time in the ordinary course of events.

The remainder of the night passed without incident, and by dawn Nahma was once more alert. His first move was to climb a tall tree that stood close at hand and take a comprehensive survey of the lake. Seeing it thus for the first time by daylight, he was impressed by its marvellous beauty. Its blue waters were dotted with islands all wooded and blending every shade of green. On both sides forest-covered hills rose abruptly from the shore, and back of them towered mountains higher than any he had ever seen. The lake was nowhere more than a mile or two in width, and to the northward it narrowed rapidly.

Having gazed as long as he dared on the outspread beauties of the scene, and satisfied himself that nothing was in motion on the face of the waters, the youth descended from his observatory and proceeded to make ready a breakfast. He was tired of parched corn, and his ravenous appetite demanded something more substantial. He even decided to run the risk of a fire. So he gathered a small quantity of dry, hard wood that would burn with the least amount of smoke, and, after an exasperating struggle with flints and tinder, caught a spark that was finally fanned into a brisk blaze. With the making of a fire the hardest part of his breakfast-getting was ended, although he had as yet nothing to cook. Five minutes later, however, he was in possession of a large pickerel and two good-sized bass, all of which had been enticed within striking distance of his arrows by a bait of worms. These fish wrapped in green leaves were buried under a bed of coals, and while they were cooking Nahma gathered berries.

When all was in readiness, he was vastly disappointed to find that his companion was unable to share in the meal. The Beaver had so far recovered that he was able to sit up and take an intelligent interest in what was going on. The expression of longing with which he regarded those baked fish left no doubt that he, too, was hungry; but, alas! he could not swallow food. His throat was so swollen that he could not even speak, and he still breathed with difficulty. He was so parched with thirst that he managed after a painful struggle to swallow a few drops of water, but that was all.

So Nahma was reluctantly obliged to eat alone while his companion watched him enviously. As he ate, the former told what he knew concerning the events of the preceding evening, and the Beaver learned for the first time that they were on an island far down the lake in hiding from a war-party of Hurons. He had wondered at finding himself alone with Nahma instead of in Sacandaga's company, but had supposed that they were within a short distance of the great rock, as he knew had been the case when they first gained the lake-shore. His distress at being unable to ask questions and express his views on the situation was so evident as to suggest a possible remedy, upon which Nahma immediately set to work. First he stripped some sheets of bark from a white birch, and with them fashioned a rude but water-tight bowl that would hold about a gallon. This he partially filled with water. In the mean time he had thrown into the fire some large beach pebbles, and these were now thoroughly heated. Lifting them with forked sticks and dropping them into the bowl, he almost instantly had hot water, with which he bade the Beaver bathe his throat.

While the latter was doing this Nahma bethought himself to climb once more into his observatory for another look at the lake. As he gained the highest available branch and glanced back over the way they had come he uttered an exclamation of dismay. Not more than two miles distant was a fleet of canoes advancing directly towards him. He could plainly see the flash of their paddles and note their movements as they separated or closed together. There was no doubt but that the enemy from whom he had fled was again close upon him, and to remain on that island meant certain discovery, since no Indian would pass a fire without finding out by whom it had been kindled. To leave the island and make for the mainland on either side was out of the question, for their moving canoe would surely be discovered. Thus the only thing remaining to be done was to proceed straight down the lake, with the hope of gaining another place of concealment while still hidden by the island from those who came behind.

With this plan formed our young warrior hastily descended the tree, told his companion that the Hurons were again in hot pursuit, and bundled him into the canoe ere he had time to gain further information. Then Nahma gave him a paddle and told him that if he valued his life he must put forth whatever of strength he had remaining.

CHAPTER X AN OKI OF THE WATERS

As Nahma had intended remaining on the island until his companion fully recovered from his injuries, he had not hurried with anything that he had done that morning. Consequently it was mid-day when the flight was resumed and the fugitives again headed their canoe down the lake, keeping the island directly behind them as a screen from their pursuers. Although working furiously at his paddle, Nahma glanced behind him every few moments, and as time passed was amazed that the enemy did not come into sight.

At length, after a couple of hours of incessant labor, the canoe rounded a bold headland that nearly cut the lake in twain, and was hidden behind it from any who might be following. Here the lake was very narrow, and Nahma proposed that they should run the canoe ashore, hide it, and seek to rejoin their friends by land.

"No," said the Beaver, who had recovered his power of speech. "If the Hurons are following us, they will surely have scouts in the forest on both sides. We should be certain to fall in with these, and I am not yet ready for fighting. Now that we have come thus far by water, let us keep on. At a short distance from here this lake ends, but it is joined to another much larger. On that other a canoe may go north even to the country of the Hurons. It may also go south to the land of the Iroquois. Let us, then, find the big water and turn to the south, for if those following us be Hurons they will certainly hold a course to the northward."

"We will do as my brother says," replied Nahma, delighted to have again the counsel of his more experienced companion. So the course of the canoe was continued, but only Nahma now wielded a paddle. The Beaver had been so much benefited by hot-water applications and by the subsequent exercise of paddling that his throat was again serviceable. Not only could he talk but he believed he could eat, and as Nahma had brought along one of the three fish caught for breakfast, he made the attempt with such gratifying success that it quickly disappeared. Being thus refreshed and strengthened, he began to question his companion concerning the events of the preceding night.

When Nahma related the finding of the two mortal enemies clutched in a death-grapple the Beaver said,—

"It is so. As I saw the Huron he saw me, and we sprang at each other with our knives, for we were too close to use bows or even the tomahawk. His knife broke, and as I drove mine into his body his fingers closed about my throat. Ugh! It was the grip of a bear, and I could not loose it. Again and again did I bury my knife in his heart, but he would not let go. Then all became black and I died. How my brother brought me back from the place of Okis [departed spirits] I know not, but when next I awoke he lay beside me under a canoe and a band as of fire was about my head. Now, therefore, the life of Grinning Beaver belongs to his brother. But tell me quickly how knew you we were pursued by Hurons? There were traces of but two of them, while many of our own people were to meet Sacandaga at the great rock."

"I know that our pursuers are Hurons, or at least enemies, because they crept on us by stealth. Also when they saw we had escaped they yelled with rage and shot arrows to kill us. Besides that, they followed after us in canoes, and but for the coming of darkness would surely have overtaken us."

"Is it certain that they shot after us with arrows?"

"It is certain, for one of them struck the canoe and lies even yet where it fell. So my brother may see for himself and know that I have spoken truly."

The Beaver plucked the arrow thus indicated from the sheathing of the canoe in which its point was embedded and examined it closely. As he did so a puzzled expression came over his face, and he exclaimed,—

"But this is not a Huron arrow! It is of the Iroquois, and might have been made by Kaweras himself. Look. As a bowman thou shouldst know this fashion of feathering."