Front matter (continued 5)

They arrived in the nick of time, for the Cahnuaga I had tried to tomahawk was on his feet, ready to shoot me as I dodged the knife-blade of his mate. The Seneca brained this man with the butt of his gun, and Peter methodically tripped my adversary and helped me pinion him.

Ta-wan-ne-ars paused long enough to remove what was left of the scalp of his victim, then crossed to us and set his bloody knife to the throat of the survivor.

"Is it to be torture or a quick death, Cahnuaga dog!" he demanded.

The red eyes of the Keeper glared at him. "Death," the man spat, and strove to gnaw at the hands which held him.

"Then speak truly. Who travels Doom Trail today?"

"Nobody. We watch always."

Ta-wan-ne-ars pricked him slightly.

"You watch always," assented the Seneca. "Yes. And who comes?"

A shout echoed through the forest aisles. The red eyes of the Cahnuaga flared exultantly. His mouth opened.

"Yaaa-aaaa-aaa-ah—"

Ta-wan-ne-ars drove his point home, and the scream ended in an awful bubbling gasp.

The shout was repeated.

XXII WE MEET RED DEATH AND BLACK DEATH

The crashing of branches sounded as some heavy body ran along the Doom Trail.

"Did ye hear that screech?" shouted a rough voice.

"Yaas, Red, me hear him. He bery much like feller feel something he not like."

Peter nudged me, and Ta-wan-ne-ars seized the bow and quiver of one of the dead Keepers. We crouched beside the bodies behind the sumac screen. My gun was still where I had left it in the gully by which I had approached the lair of the watchers. In its stead I selected the musket of the man the Seneca had just knifed.

"Funny they don't answer us—'nless that was an answer we heard," continued the rough voice. "Give 'em another hail in their own lingo."

A third voice was raised—in the Cahnuaga dialect, which was a corruption of the Iroquois speech and perfectly understandable to my comrades.

"Qua, O Keepers who watch," shouted the third speaker. "We acquaint you that we approach. We have with us the Red One and the Black One."

We remained quiet, but Peter possessed himself of the gun of the second Cahnuaga and placed it where he could reach it as soon as his own piece was discharged.

"That's —— funny, Tom," called the first speaker, who was plainly Bolling.

"Yaas, him —— —— funny," answered the negro.

They were approaching over the trail which forked into the one we had followed from the stream with the pebbly banks. And at this point apparently they came to the junction of the two branches.

"Hullo," commented Bolling's great voice—he spoke habitually in a roar. "Somebody come by this way."

"Mebbe them Keepers go look for us the other way," suggested Tom.

"Mought be so, but I ain't figgerin' on takin' no chances with them green arrows. French put the Injuns up to dippin' the points in rattlesnake p'ison, and I seed them try it on a poor devil of a Mohican they gathered in. I ain't hankerin' to die in no snake-snarl."

The Indian who had shouted before repeated his hail.

"Them Keepers done gone away, Red," declared Tom. "Mebbe some Maquas[1] come dis way. The Keepers chase 'em out o' hyuh."

"——! I'm agoin' to find out," returned Bolling.

He trotted out of the mouth of the trail into the open space on the brink of the muskrat swamp.

"Nobody here," he called back after a casual look around. "Guess you was right, Tom. The Keepers got after somebody—or else the lazy dogs have turned in for a sleep. I'll find out later for sure. Now you rustle them packs up, and I'll get the dugout ready."

He dragged a canoe hollowed from a tree-trunk from its hiding-place in a bed of reeds, and produced two paddles from the prostrate trunk of a hollow tree. But we paid scant attention to him. Our eyes were fastened upon the odd procession which emerged from the trail in obedience to his summons.

First walked the negro Tom, a huge pack bowing his enormous shoulders. After the negro, in single file, came eight Cahnuagas, each with a large pack braced on a ga-ne-ko-na-ah, or burden frame. They carried their muskets in their hands.

"We've got to hurry if we're goin' to get everything ferried over the swamp tonight," grumbled Bolling. "Waall, what's bitin' you?"

This question was addressed to a Cahnuaga who, in unslinging his burden-frame, had chanced to see the arrow in the ground which the Keepers had shot in their first attempt to bait us.

The Cahnuaga pointed silently to the green-feathered shaft.

"By ——!" swore Bolling with a start. "D'ye see that, Tom?"

The negro dropped his pack and shook some fresh priming into the pan of his musket.

"Nobody nebber done come here befo'," he said dubiously. "Howcome dat arrow dere, Red?"

"—— it, how the —— do I know? I want to tell you this ain't no joke. Something's happened here."

Bolling glanced about him uneasily.

"The Keepers have gone, that's sure," he announced. "What most likely happened was some party broke in here, and the Keepers chased 'em."

He chuckled wickedly.

"Ain't no blood nor nothin' around, so it 'pears likely the Keepers got the jump on 'em."

Ta-wan-ne-ars, who had been occupied in extracting arrows from a quiver and setting them in a row before him with points lightly thrust into the ground, now notched a shaft.

"Shall we begin, brothers?" he whispered. "Hold your fire until I run out of arrows."

"Ja," agreed Peter. "Budt do not shoot Red Jack or der nigger. We will safe them if we can."

"You can take on the negro," I spoke up. "Leave Bolling to me."

Peter looked doubtful.

"He is a goodt knife-fighter," he commenced to argue; but Ta-wan-ne-ars chose that moment to open his bombardment, and the Dutchman's remonstrance went for naught.

A green arrow streaked across the grove and buried its barbed bone head in the chest of one of the Cahnuagas. The man shrieked and tore at the shaft with his hands. His companions scattered right and left. But Ta-wan-ne-ars gave them no respite. His shafts filled the air. The green arrows drove into the packs, quivered in tree-trunks, pierced another unfortunate.

"Are ye crazy?" shouted Bolling at the strangely hostile sumac clump. "Don't ye see——"

"It's dem —— False Faces," cried Tom, dancing with rage. "Dey got some hocus-pocus up. Fire at 'em."

Thus adjured, the Cahnuagas let off a ragged volley which whistled over our heads. Ta-wan-ne-ars discharged the last of his arrows and reached for his musket. At the same moment Peter fired, and I tailed him. We saw two of the Indians collapse. Peter caught up his second musket and he and Ta-wan-ne-ars shot again. 'Twas impossible to miss. Besides Bolling and Tom, only two of the enemy were left.

"Knife and hatchet for the rest," said Ta-wan-ne-ars grimly. "Are my brothers ready?"

Peter answered him with the Iroquois war-whoop, and we sprang from the sumac clump, dodging right and left through the tree-trunks.

"Here they come," yelled Bolling in warning.

He fired his musket, and I felt the wind of its bullet on my cheek. Tom shot with no better results. The two surviving Cahnuagas threw away their guns and fled.

"I will take care of them, brothers," shouted Ta-wan-ne-ars, casting aside his own musket. "One Seneca against two Cahnuagas—that should be fair odds."

He put on speed as he spoke, waved his hand and was gone, running like a greyhound after the two frightened savages, who were scurrying around the swamp.

The field was left to Peter and me and the two ruffians whom the frontier called Red Death and Black Death. They seemed nothing loath to meet us.

"Ho, ho, ho," roared Bolling. "D'ye see who it is, Tom?"

The negro's apelike face was distorted by a grin which showed his yellow tusks. His wicked little eyes gleamed ferociously.

"Massa Murray done goin' to gib us a heap o' presents fo' this," he answered. "Ah reckon mebbe we get all der rum we wants to drink."

"Waall, I will," chuckled Bolling, "but you won't."

Tom slobbered like an animal regretting its inability to eat sufficiently.

"Ah'm aimin' to try," he said.

"There ain't enough," returned Bolling. "Waall, young feller"—this to me—"was you intendin' to amuse me some!"

"I'm intending to let a little clean air into your dirty skin," I answered.

He threw back his head as if much amused.

"Ho, ho, ho! Now ain't you got the smart way o' puttin' things! Young feller, I'll tell yer what: you're too good for the frontier. You——"

As quick as lightning, and without an indication in advance to warn me, he flung his tomahawk at my head. I saw it coming, and instinctively did the only thing possible to save myself—raised my own ax to guard. Bolling's hatchet struck mine and knocked it from my hand, leaving my arm sore and tingling.

"You wasn't expectin' that, was you?" he gibed. "Waall, young feller, there's a heap o' other things you ain't expectin', but they're a-goin' to happen. Yes, right now. You watch."

He poised himself on the balls of his feet, and pranced around me, his big, double-edged scalping-knife held ready in his right hand.

"I'm aimin' to carve you, my lad," he warned me. "You ain't got the chance a squirrel has ag'in an eagle. There ain't a knife-fighter in these parts can stand up to me. D'ye know what they call me?"

"The Red Death," I said. "And I am going to redden more than your hair."

"Ho, ho, ho! The cockerel can crow! Boy, I'm 'most ready to be sorry for ye. I feel that bloody-minded I ain't got no mercy left at all.

"It ain't just that I'm a-goin' to kill ye, ye understand. That wouldn't be so bad. But no, I'm goin' to take my time about it and carve ye up first—bit by bit. I'll take a little off en your arm first. Like that!"

He made a sudden leap, but I had been watching his eye, as the fencing-masters taught us to watch an opponent with the small-swords—and knife-fighting is much like sword-play in this respect—and I was prepared for him. I jumped backward, and his knife-point jabbed the sod underfoot. He was on his feet again in a second.

"Thought ye was smart, eh?" he snarled, his ugly face a blaze of ferocity. "Waall, for that, I'll torment ye the longer. Take this now!"

He attacked me with a peculiar sweeping blow that was aimed at my shoulder, but fell at the level of the waist. Had it passed my guard, 'twould have disemboweled me. I parried his blade with mine, and struck back for the first time with such venom that he leaped away in alarm.

The suspension in his attack gave me opportunity to glance over my shoulder toward the edge of the swamp, where Peter and the negro were circling each other warily, tomahawks poised for throwing.

The sight put an idea in my mind. I remembered my duel with the Cahnuaga in the glade by the Great Trail and the discovery that he was at a disadvantage when I used the knife as I had learned to use the sword. I promptly shifted my grip on the knife-hilt and held it straight before me as if it were a rapier. At the same time I inclined my other arm behind me to balance it. Bolling viewed this manoeuvre with derision.

"Ye pore babby," he sneered. "Think ye can meet a knife-fighter like me with one arm? Or fight me off with the point? I'll show ye."

He charged upon me like a battering-ram, his knife a whirling point of steel, its broad blade slashing in both directions. I retired slowly, anxious to increase his self-confidence.

"Stand up to me!" he yelled finally. "Be ye feared?"

I laughed at this, and it made him furious. He stamped around me, slashing and stabbing, and it was several minutes before he discovered that however viciously he struck I was always able to parry him with an economy of effort. I kept my point in the restricted circle which the experts of fence decree to be the most potent guard.

Breathing heavily, he retreated several paces and stood, glaring at me, his knife upraised.

"You don't understand, Bolling, do you?" I mocked him.

"Understand what, ye —— swine?" he ripped.

"Fighting the way gentlemen fight."

"Ye call that a gentleman's way!" he laughed harshly. "I call it a coward's way! Why don't ye take the edge?"

"I will if you'll take the point," I retorted.

"Come on," he proffered, and he crept forward like a huge cat, feet spread wide, shoulders crouched, knife a menacing flame.

Somewhat to his surprize I did not give ground to him this time, but met him squarely as he advanced. My arm was extended, full-length, tipped with a good ten inches of steel. He struck, and I parried his blow. He slashed, and I put it aside. He struck again, and I almost succeeded in twisting his blade from his hand by an old trick of the salle des armes. But my knife was not long enough to get the necessary purchase with it.

"Why don't ye fight fair?" he growled, wringing his arm.

"Why don't you?" I returned.

He charged with wonderful celerity, dropped to his knee and slashed upward so effectively that his point cut the skirt of my leather shirt.

"I'll get ye yet," he howled with glee.

But I refuse to be intimidated. Indeed, I was no longer doubtful of the issue. I knew that I could outfight him or any fighter of his caliber by my adaptation of sword-play to knife-fighting.

I leaped upon him by way of answer, and pressed the fighting. He yielded ground to me, seeking to retreat into the woods by the trail; but I rounded him up and herded him steadily toward the edge of the swamp.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Peter fling his tomahawk at Tom and Tom hurl his knife in reply. Then my opponent shifted ground once more, and I was occupied in driving him back in the direction I meant him to go. We hovered nearer and nearer to the swamp edge, and Bolling's breath began to come in labored gasps.

I shortened our fighting-range, and gave him the point, drawing blood occasionally. He kept his head down, and parried desperately, trying to escape to one side, but I was on him so swiftly that he was afraid of a blow from the rear, and must needs stand to defend himself. At last he stood on the very brink of the morass, with no avenue of escape open.

I paused a moment.

"How will you die, my friend?" I asked. "You can smother to death if you prefer it."

His answer was a bellow of insensate rage and his knife, thrown point-first at my chest. By sheer luck I caught its point on my hilt, turned it aside and met his rush. He wrapped his arms around me, intent on carrying me with him into the ooze and slime. But I stabbed him to the heart before his bear's hug was completed, and he fell away from me, arms spread wide, and lay in a noisome heap by the tussocks of marsh grass.

I stood over him, panting from my exertions, when a shout from Ta-wan-ne-ars attracted my attention. The Seneca was returning from his pursuit of the two Cahnuagas. He shouted again, and pointed behind me. I turned to see Peter and the negro locked in each other's arms, and as I looked, Tom heaved Peter into the air and sought to throw him. But Peter locked his legs around the negro's waist, and they rolled over and over across the ground.

I reached them just as they struggled to their feet, grips unrelaxed. Peter warned me off.

"Standt clear," he croaked. "I finish this myself."

Certes, nobody but Peter could have finished it. The negro's strength was colossal. His arms were half again as long as Peter's and Peter was a big man. The negro's shoulder and back muscles were iron bands—we afterward estimated the pack he had been carrying at three hundred weight and a half. He fought like a wildcat, with teeth and nails and legs. But Peter met him phlegmatically, refusing to be angered by the vilest attempt.

Once, whilst Ta-wan-ne-ars and I stood by, Peter tried to break his back. Any other man's back would have been broken. A second time Tom rolled the Dutchman on the ground and clawed at his eyes; but Peter kept one arm across them and escaped with bleeding cheeks. Again, Peter rose up to his full height and jolted the negro down upon his head. It seemed as if the fellow's neck must break if his skull resisted the shock. Yet he bounded to his feet unhurt, and with a swift look around made a dash for liberty, which Ta-wan-ne-ars and I headed off.

Then Peter closed with him. They had torn the clothing from each other's shoulders and flanks. They dripped blood. Their skins shone with sweat. Their chests heaved with the effort for breath.

Tom stooped and flung his arms around Peter's waist, driving his head for the Dutchman's loins. Peter retaliated by bringing up his knee against the negro's chin. Tom reeled back, and Peter swooped upon him. One arm hooked Tom's waist, the other caught him by the neck.

Dazed and with a mouthful of shattered teeth, Tom struggled feebly, but without avail. Peter twisted him, bore him to the ground, shifted grip rapidly, drove his knee into the quivering belly and throttled the life out of the black throat.

"So I make an endt of him," panted the Dutchman as he staggered to his feet.

"Aye, we have made an end to Red Death and Black Death," I answered.

"And I slew the two who ran," added Ta-wan-ne-ars, touching two scalps whose clustered feathers protruded from his belt.

"A clean sweep," I said. "There will be none to carry the tale to La Vierge du Bois."

"That is ever the criminal's belief," interrupted a voice in French.

We spun round in amazement to face a gaunt figure in the black habit of the Jesuits.

"Black Robe!" exclaimed Peter.

Ta-wan-ne-ars glowered at the priest.

"What do you do here, Père Hyacinthe?" I asked in French.

"What is that to you?" he snapped. "I go about my Father's business; that is sufficient for the bloody-minded to know."

"If you will look at me closer, father, you will recognize my face," I answered. "Surely one has the right of vengeance upon those who would torture one."

He peered at me.

"You and the Indian were at La Vierge du Bois," he said. "Yes, I remember now. Did the light shine in your eyes, my son?"

"Not the light you mean, but I saw much evil which went on there behind your back."

"What?" he demanded.

I told him of the Moon Feast and the False Face rites and started to reveal the duplicity of de Veulle.

"Tell me no more," he interrupted with a sigh. "'Tis already hard to bear these burdens my unworthy shoulders carry. I cry out now and again, 'How long, O Lord, how long?' But what bloody business have you done here? Are your skirts clear that you should assail the poor savages, who still relapse to superstition!"

"You say nothing of the Chevalier de Veulle," I commented.

"The man is your enemy," he returned shrewdly. "I do not think your judgment is unbiased."

Ta-wan-ne-ars raised his tomahawk, implacable hatred in his face.

"This man is leagued with the priests of evil," he said. "He is at one with Murray. Let us made an end of him."

Peter, methodically retrieving his clothing and equipment, grunted assent.

"No, no," I intervened. "'Tis not fair to judge him by his associates. Let him go."

"He will only carry word of what has passed to Murray," objected Ta-wan-ne-ars.

I touched my forehead.

"He hath gone through the torture twice," I said. "I think the Great Spirit has set his seal upon him."

Ta-wan-ne-ars sheathed his ax. Peter, saturated as he was with Indian lore, nodded his head.

"Let him go," said the Dutchman curtly. "It don't matter if Murray knows we hafe found der trail. Sooner or later he hears of this killing anyhow."

I turned to the priest.

"You are free to go, father," I said.

He laughed mockingly.

"Yes, free, but I do not need your word for it. I go when the Word calls me, and I come when It calls me—and none stays me."

He raised a crucifix on high as he spoke. His eye chanced to fall upon the bodies scattered on the verge of the swamp.

"Do these poor souls require Christian burial!" he asked.

"They were devil-worshipers, father," I said.

He hesitated, then muttered several prayers in Latin and made the sign of the cross in the air. Without another word he turned on his heel and disappeared into the woods, following the route around the swamp which Ta-wan-ne-ars had taken.

XXIII GOVERNOR BURNET IS DEFIED

'Twas early Autumn when we returned to Albany. The leaves were coloring, and there was a nip of frost in the air. The flag over the battlements of Fort Orange stood out straight from its staff. The citizens who thronged the street leading up to the fort gate must needs hold on to their hat-brims.

"Are the streets usually so crowded?" I asked Peter.

He shook his head, and I accosted a tavernkeeper who stood in his doorway, regarding the passers-by with anticipation of the harvest he would reap later.

"'Tis his Excellency the governor," he explained. "Master Burnet is come up-river from New York town this morning."

"What is toward?"

"I know not, my master. The governor and Master Colden of his Council have summoned certain gentry and merchants and the officers of the troops to meet them in the Great Hall of the fort this afternoon."

I thanked him, and passed on.

"Here is great luck for us!" I exclaimed to Corlaer and Ta-wan-ne-ars. "We are saved the trip down-river."

"Ja," grunted Peter.

Ta-wan-ne-ars smiled.

"Does my brother already surrender to the spell of the wilderness?" he inquired.

I started, for indeed the Seneca's uncanny inward vision had perceived the question I was then debating in my own mind.

"How knew you that?" I demanded as we shouldered our way through Dutch farmers and burghers, English settlers of the newly opened districts, slaves, patentees, patroons, Indians from the Lower Castle of the Mohawks, frontiersmen and soldiers.

His smile broadened.

"My brother was pleased to think that he need not go down-river."

"'Tis true," I affirmed. "I have no wish to leave the forest. I find even this village overcrowded to suit me."

Whilst I pondered this we came to the fort gate and gave our names to the sentry who stopped all save the few the governor had summoned to attend upon him. A messenger he dispatched brought back word that we were to enter, and we were escorted across the parade and into the quarters of the commandant adjoining the Great Hall.

Master Colden met us in the doorway.

"Zooks, but I am right glad to see you," he cried. "And his Excellency is overjoyed. But I will leave it to him to express his satisfaction."

He opened an inner door and ushered us into the presence of the governor. Master Burnet rose from the chair in which he was sitting by a flat-topped table which served him for desk, and came forward with hand outstretched.

"Master Ormerod, this could not have been better! I wished above all things for speech with you. Corlaer, I am deeply in your debt. Ta-wan-ne-ars, you have again incurred the gratitude of the province. I shall not forget that you have imperiled your life in our cause."

"Did you receive my report from Oswego, sir?" I asked.

"Certes, 'twas that—and this"—he tapped a document which lay before him on the table—"which brought me here."

He proffered it. 'Twas a report from a secret agent at Montreal, quoting the decision of the French fur-dealers, acting in conjunction with their Government, to raise the price of beaver from two livres, or one shilling six pence in English currency, the pound, to the level of four livres, or three shillings, the established price then prevailing at the English trading-posts.

"That, mind you," continued the governor as I returned the paper to him, "was the first reaction in Canada to the tidings that Murray had succeeded in legitimatizing his trade over the Doom Trail."

"We have found the Doom Trail, your Excellency," I said.

"You have done well," he applauded. "Aye, better than I expected of you in so short a time."

"We also slew——"

"I beg your Excellency's indulgence," interrupted Master Colden, "but the gentlemen you bade to meet you are now assembled in the Great Hall. Can not Master Ormerod's report await the conclusion of your interview with them!"

"That would be best," agreed the governor, "But I wish Master Ormerod and his companions to come with me. It may be I shall appeal to them for first-hand testimony."

We deposited our muskets in a corner of the room, and then filed behind Master Burnet and the surveyor-general into the larger chamber adjoining, where some thirty men awaited him. Several were gentry who were members of his Council. Three were officers in command of the frontier garrisons. The remainder were merchants, dealing to greater or lesser extent in the fur-trade, the great export staple of the province.

They rose when the governor entered and remained standing until he was seated. Master Colden found seats for Ta-wan-ne-ars, Peter and me to one side of the room, and we watched with interest the battle which began almost with his Excellency's first word.

He wasted no time in preliminaries or generalities. He deposited several papers on the table in front of him, and addressed himself to his task.

"Gentlemen," he began, "I have summoned you to meet me here because a situation has arisen which is of the utmost gravity to the welfare of the province and the larger interests of his Majesty's realm. Recently I have been in receipt of a communication in the form of a petition signed by many of the chief merchants of the province, beseeching me to abandon my opposition to the retention of the free trade with Canada which is now temporarily secured to them by the action of the Lords of Trade in suspending decision upon the law prohibiting the trade in Indian goods which I secured to be passed last year."

"That petition represented the sober thought of a majority of the merchants and traders, your Excellency," spoke up a prosperous-looking man in the front row facing Master Burnet.

"It may be so," replied the governor. "But I would suggest to you, my friends, that certain knowledge hath come to me which compels me to wonder whether you would persist in this attitude were you acquainted with it. Briefly, I have lately obtained definite information that the French are beginning the erection of a stone fort at Jagara."

"There are many such reports in circulation," said another merchant, a hard-featured man with graying hair. "It seems to many of us, sir, that the fault is as much upon our side as upon that of the French. Why must we assail them if they seek to protect their interests?"

"I agree with the principle of what you say, sir," answered the governor patiently. "But in this case, permit me to point out that the territory this side of the Falls of Jagara is secured to us by the Peace of Utrecht. 'Tis not only that the French have no right to construct a fort there. They have no right to maintain a trading-post there.

"Yet my agent talked with the officers in charge, Monsieur de Joncaire and Monsieur de Lery, and they boasted of their intent to erect such a fort as would be a curb on our Indian allies, the Iroquois, and divert to their posts farther up the Cadarakui Lake the fur trade which now comes to us at Irondequoit and Oswego, Schenectady and Albany."

"Your Excellency is needlessly worried concerning the fur-trade," asserted the hard-featured merchant. "What matters it to us the way in which the furs come! They will go ultimately to the people paying the best prices for them, and those people are ourselves."

"I thank you for putting me in the way of bringing forward a most important point," returned the governor suavely. "At the time I received word of the building of the fort at Jagara, I received also this report from an agent in Montreal——"

"Why must we have spies?" interrupted a third merchant.

"To protect our just interests, sir," said the governor, and for the first time a hint of sternness rang in his voice. "This report announces the doubling of the price paid for beaver at tie French posts, so that now they are on a par with us."

"We can afford to pay more than we do. London will still take it from us at a profit," rejoined the merchant who had first spoken.

"Aye, sirs," urged the governor; "but do you not see that presently, if things go on as they do, the French may increase their price again slowly, a few sous at a time, until they are frankly overbidding you?"

"We will chance that," spoke up several men.

"Trade is trade," cried another. "It goes where the money is."

"Aye, we have no fear," clamored others.

"And let us suppose," resumed the governor, "that the French permit you to draw supplies of furs through them. I can conceive they might do so if it netted them the prices they desire. Does that mean that you will always be safe in expecting to have your wants so filled!"

"To be sure," answered three or four men at once.

"I differ with you," replied Master Burnet. "The fur-trade is not only a means to earn profits. 'Tis a most important stake in securing military success. The nation which controls the fur-trade, my masters, will have the interest of the larger numbers of savages. The nation which owns the support of the most Indian tribes will be the nation superior in extending its territories in time of peace and superior in battle in time of war."

"It ill becomes a plain merchant to take issue with your Excellency," remarked the hard-featured merchant. "And 'tis like to go against me if I do——"

"Speak with entire freedom, sir," interrupted Master Burnet.

"Then I must say, your Excellency, that it seems to me you attach overmuch importance to savage tribes and war. There is enough land in North America for French and English and Indians, too. But if you go around looking for attack, why, 'tis likely you will bring such a catastrophe upon yourself."

"Hear, hear," cried the bulk of the merchants and traders.

"You mistake me," answered the governor. "I aim to serve your own interests as well as those of his Majesty's other subjects which transcend even yours."

"Trade is everything," snapped the hard-featured merchant.

"So long as 'tis rightly conducted," amended Master Burnet. "Bear in mind, my masters, that the whole history of our possessions on this continent disproves the statement just made that there is land enough for ourselves and the French. The French are the first to dispute this view.

"They plan openly to drive us into the sea. The New France they see in the future will embrace all the settlements of the Atlantic coast together with the inland wilderness."

"If you bait them sufficiently, doubtless they will seek to fight us," asserted a merchant.

"But they know not the English breed if they think to do so," cried a neighbor.

"Or the Dutchman either," said a third.

"Good! That is the spirit I want to arouse," acknowledged the governor, quick to seize what he thought an advantage. "Gentlemen, you have heard some of my evidence. Additional, if you wish it, can be laid before you.

"What I desire from you especially today is your support in a plan I have been considering for moderating the exit of goods to Canada. The volume reached in recent weeks passes all reason. If permitted to continue 'twill exhaust our supplies. It plays directly into the hands of——"

But he was not suffered to continue.

"Free trading!" shouted a group.

"Stick by the law, governor!" warned one.

"The law is the law!" cried a third.

The prosperous-looking merchant in the front row stood up and made himself heard by pounding his stick on the floor.

"Do I understand your Excellency to mean that you would alter the instructions received from the Lords of Trade?" he asked.

"My plan is rather to amend the carrying out of the law by certain restrictions until I can forward representations on the situation to their lordships," replied Master Burnet steadily.

"But as one of my brethren has just remarked, the law is the law.

"The trouble here, sirs, is that there is no law," declared the governor. "We have the suspension of the law, and in the interim there is no provision for a substitute statute."

"Tush, we want no such law," proclaimed the hard-featured merchant. "Let us not quibble. His Excellency might as well know the truth. Since Master Murray won his case we have been able to sell and buy as we chose. And our coffers have swollen thereby.

"The law was an ill-judged law. It restricted trade, reduced profits. Let the French secure furs if they wish. They may do the dirty work. We will sit back and reap the profits."

"Gentlemen, you still avoid my point," insisted the governor. "The profits you have made recently are unnatural profits, and were you in your right minds you would be the first to appreciate that they can not continue. I should be content to leave your education to the normal processes of time, but for the fact that the French are turning your assistance to account, and we are like to pay heavily to them for it in the long run."

"How?" inquired a skeptical voice.

"By permitting the French to confirm their prestige with the savages, by undermining the confidence in us of those Indian allies we have won hitherto. Your lot will be improved only so long as it pleases the French. If matters continue as they are, the French will force a war at the moment they deem most promising, and likely enough conquer us by reason of the very profits which you say have swollen your coffers."

"Better so, mayhap," shouted the hard-featured merchant. "Better have free trade under France than limited trade under England or any other country."

"You talk treason, sir," said the governor coldly. "Moreover, you talk foolishly. There is no freedom of trade in Canada——"

"Well, we have it here; and by ——, we'll keep it as long as we can," replied the merchant.

"That is not like to be very long, my masters," announced a new voice.

All eyes were turned to the door. There stood Andrew Murray, a fashionably cut blue plush coat draping his fine shoulders, half-revealing the canary-yellow vest beneath; a beautiful periwig framing his handsome, masterful face; a laced and cocked hat tucked under his arm.

He bowed low to the governor.

"I must beseech your Excellency's pardon for my unheralded entrance," he said. "I am but just arrived in town, and I hastened here to present my case to you."

He swept his eyes over the room as he spoke and fastened them upon my face.

"You are welcome, Master Murray," returned the governor. "Had I known where to reach you I should have invited your attendance."

"I am honored, sir."

Murray bowed again. His eyes passed from me to Peter's stolid features and the calm, impassive face of Ta-wan-ne-ars.

"I venture to intrude upon you," he continued, "because of information I possess which I am sure will be of interest to you and all others who have the prosperity of the province at heart."

"I am interested," said the governor impartially. "Pray state your case, Master Murray."

"I shall do so all the more readily, your Excellency, because I am persuaded you can have no knowledge of the crimes recently committed by persons who represent themselves to be your agents."

"So?" observed the governor.

"Yes, sir," Murray went on. "I see in this room three men whom I charge with the wanton destruction of a large quantity of furs and the murder of two of my servants and a number of friendly Indians."

And that there might be no mistaking the objects of his accusation Murray pointed his forefinger at my comrades and me. A rustle of interest agitated the audience. Murmurs arose and hostile glances were bent upon us.

"Be explicit, if you please," said the governor.

"I will, sir," replied Murray boldly. "The young man known as Harry Ormerod, with Peter Corlaer and a Seneca chief called Ta-wan-ne-ars, raided a fleet of canoes on the shore of the Cadarakui Lake near Oswego and burned hundreds of packs of valuable furs which the far-western savages were bringing in for trade."

"I have heard something of this matter," admitted Master Burnet. "But I understood the savages were in charge of Monsieur de Joncaire, the French commandant at Jagara, and bound for Montreal."

"Monsieur de Joncaire was accompanying them, 'tis true," admitted Murray. "But the savages were bound for my own trading-stations. The loss, which will run into thousands of pounds, will fall upon our New York merchants."

The murmurs grew into an outburst of indignation which the governor quelled with difficulty. But before he could speak Murray continued his attack.

"Nor is that all, your Excellency. These same three men afterwards attacked from ambush and murdered two of my servants, a man named Bolling and a negro."

"It sticks in my mind that both have been charged with murders of their own in the past," the governor broke in drily.

"They were never convicted of such a crime," returned Murray.

"Bolling was wanted for an attempt upon Master Ormerod's life in New York town," interjected Colden.

"I am not responsible for that," observed Murray. "It shows at best that there was enmity betwixt the two. But surely, my masters, enmity does not call for cold-blooded murder."

There was no misinterpreting the unanimity of the endorsement which his words received. Governor Burnet held up his hand for silence.

"I shall look into Master Murray's charges," he said. "So much, at least, he is entitled to. But first I wish to acquaint him with what I have laid before this gathering, all the more so because he is more vitally interested perhaps than any other.

"Master Murray, I am concerned over the extent to which the fur-trade is passing into French hands, and I am bound to say my information indicates that the French have your assistance in the matter. The quantities of trade-goods going up-river have enormously increased this Summer. They are hundreds of tons in excess of what formerly passed through Albany."

"Doubtless our trading-posts have profited thereby," suggested Murray blandly.

"On the contrary," returned Master Burnet with decision. "Our trading-posts have fared worse, if anything. Aside from the Iroquois, the savages are patronizing more and more the French traders. And as I have told these gentlemen here, the French have increased their trading-stocks already to such an extent that they have been able to establish parity with our prices."

"Yet the volume of furs coming through Albany has increased and not diminished," said Murray.

"What has that to do with the situation I have outlined?" demanded the governor with his first show of impatience.

"Everything, sir."

"I think not. Briefly, Master Murray, I am canvassing the sentiment of our merchants on the advisability of suspending for the time being, to some degree at any rate, the proclamation I issued in response to the action of the Lords of Trade in withholding the assent of his Majesty's government to our law prohibiting the trade in Indian goods with Canada."

Murray took snuff deliberately, and I, who had passed considerable time in his company, did not miss the gleam of frank hostility which showed in his eye.

"I am not surprized," he commented. "I am free to say, your Excellency, that I have noted hitherto a laxness on the part of the provincial authorities in administering the free-trade requirements of their lordships."

"You charge that?" inquired the governor coldly.

"I do, sir. And I give fair warning that, with a view to the best interests of the province and in response to the wishes of the majority of the merchants, I purpose to carry my complaint before the Privy Council at the earliest opportunity."

Governor Burnet rose from his chair. The cordiality was gone from his manner.

"This meeting is dissolved," he pronounced. "No, not a word, gentlemen"—this as several undertook to object—"I still hold his Majesty's commission as governor, and I purpose to secure assent to my authority by one means or another.

"I have striven to reason with you. I shall now proceed as seems best to me. Master Murray, file your charges in writing and be prepared to bear testimony in their defense. You may go."

XXIV AN APPEAL TO THE LONG HOUSE

The door of the Great Hall closed on the last of the turbulent group.

"But, your Excellency," I protested, "why do you permit Murray to make such charges without bringing up against him the information we gathered at La Vierge du Bois? Sure, 'tis some measure of offense to apply torture to a fellow-countryman; and for the rest, there is the testimony of Ta-wan-ne-ars to corroborate me."

Governor Burnet shook his head sadly.

"Naught would have pleased that clever rascal more than to have me confront him with you, Master Ormerod. You forget that unfortunately your own past is somewhat clouded in the eyes of the law. Did I charge him with anything on your evidence, he would assail you for a known Jacobite and outlaw, and whatever counter-charges we might make he would dismiss as mere efforts to offset your guilt."

"But——"

"No, sir, it may not be. Do you not agree with me, Colden?"

"I fear you are right, sir," replied the surveyor-general. "Murray hath worked up an intrigue which can not lightly be exposed. He hath set the entire province awry."

"'Tis that very state which concerns me most!" exclaimed the governor. "In my own Council I can not feel sure of a vote of approval upon any measure which would go contrary to the fancied interests of these mad merchants. So rabid have they grown that I dared bring with me from New York only Master Surveyor-General, here. And of those from this neighborhood I might rely upon none others than Master Livingston and Captain Schuyler. The officers of the troops would obey my commands, and in all probability endorse my policy; but frankly I dare not force the issue."

"Why, 'tis incredible, your Excellency," I cried with heat. "Here we have, beside myself, Peter Corlaer, who is surely known for trustworthy, if I am not. And Ta-wan-ne-ars is a chief as well as a man of education, even according to white men's standards. Must we suffer this self-confessed traitor to escape scot-free?"

The governor abandoned his chair and paced the length of the hall, his hands clasped behind him. Five times he traversed it from the rough fireplace to the double doors hewn out of shaggy oak-slabs. Then he shook his head again.

"I dare not, Master Ormerod. Unfortunately, as I have said, and through no fault of your own, you are discredited in advance as a witness. Peter is known for a sturdy hater of the French and devoted to me and to those who think as I do, notably your friend Master Juggins in London.

"Ta-wan-ne-ars is an Indian. He will acquit me of intent to offend if I say openly that my enemies will refuse to accept his word against that of a great merchant like Murray."

"Ga-en-gwa-ra-go is the friend of Ta-wan-ne-ars," said the Seneca. "He speaks with a straight tongue. It is better to hear what is unpleasant than to listen to smooth speeches which deceive."

The governor turned swiftly upon him.

"I thank you, chief," he answered. "You make it plain to me that I can speak to you without concealment."

"That is true," said Ta-wan-ne-ars gravely.

Governor Burnet hesitated a moment, deep in thought.

"There is no other way," he decided suddenly. "Draw up your chairs. I have much to ask of you, and 'tis no more than fair that I should present for you all the facts in the case.

"As I conceive the situation, the fate of this province and its neighbor colonies, as well as the sovereignty and prosperity of Great Britain, are at stake. And the future of the People of the Long House is intimately bound up with that of our people, as I think Ta-wan-ne-ars will concede."

"Ga-en-gwa-ra-go speaks always with a straight tongue," replied the Seneca sententiously.

"Advices from Paris," continued the governor, "state that the Pretender has been called to the Louvre on two occasions for secret conferences. The Duke of Berwick is gone to Spain—'tis reported to arrange for contingents of troops. Master Ormerod will understand the seriousness of such news.

"I need not acquaint you with the preparations the French are making upon this continent, but it may interest you to know that the Duke of Newcastle has been pleased to write me, remonstrating over my inability to get along better with the prominent men of the province. This I deem most significant, for it is no more than the voice of Murray speaking through the medium of his Grace's pen.

"'Tis for this reason as much as any other that I do not care to lock horns with Murray. To do so might very well secure my own recall, and that would leave the way open for Murray to prosecute his designs without any check whatsoever.

"I am in an impasse, gentlemen. In London a corrupt ministry is more interested in the spoils of office than in intelligent rule. In New York a powerful coterie of merchants, who have discovered a way by which, they are persuaded, they can all grow rich in a few years, have permitted themselves to become the active tools of an ingenious mind which would purchase the return of the Stuarts at the price of handing over to French rule the British domain in North America.

"My sole reliance today is upon a few personal friends like yourselves—and the political keenness and military energy of the Iroquois."

Master Burnet bent his gaze upon Ta-wan-ne-ars, sitting erect in a plain wooden chair, the natural dignity of the Seneca offsetting the incongruity of his half-naked figure, the wolf's-head of his clan sprawled across his chest, with the civilized furnishings of the Great Hall.

"Ta-wan-ne-ars is listening," said the Indian.

"That is well," answered the governor. "For what I am about to say is of the utmost importance to Ta-wan-ne-ars and his race. You have heard me admit my impotence. You know that the rule of the English is in danger. Will you go with my ambassadors, Master Ormerod and Peter Corlaer, to the Ho-yar-na-go-war, the Council of the roy-an-ehs, and support them in asking for the intervention of the Long House to smash the Doom Trail and Murray's conspiracy to win control of the fur-trade from our hands?"

Ta-wan-ne-ars rose and his right arm went up in the Iroquois salute.

"Ta-wan-ne-ars will do as Ga-en-gwa-ra-go asks," his deep voice boomed.

Governor Burnet drew a deep breath of relief.

"I thank you, my brother," he said. "You have relieved the load of sorrows I have carried. I ask you this, you understand, not alone as a favor, an act of friendship, but because, as I think, your people will come to believe when they consider it that the success of Murray's plot will mean the crushing of the Long House by the French."

"Ga-en-gwa-ra-go need not argue with Ta-wan-ne-ars," the Seneca responded. "Ta-wan-ne-ars believes as he does. Moreover, Murray and his friends are not the friends of the Long House, and we have old scores to wipe out in their blood. If my brothers, Ormerod and Corlaer, are ready, we will leave at once."

Colden, who had been looking out of the window upon the fort parade, came quickly across the room.

"It will be best to await darkness," he advised. "The town is full of people, and amongst them may be some of Murray's desperadoes. His tools were not exhausted with the deaths of Tom and Bolling."

"That is so," approved the governor. "And it serves to remind me that you have further details of your adventures to acquaint me with. Do you stay and dine with me, and whilst we eat we may discuss affairs and take account of how to combat our enemies. By the way, Colden, where is the Belt of the Covenant Chain?"

The surveyor-general drew from a traveling-trunk in a corner a band of wampum about three feet long and eight inches wide. Crudely woven into it in different colored beads were the figures of an Indian and a white man with hands joined. The governor examined it curiously.

"This belt was given to me by To-do-da-ho," he said, turning to me. "He bade me, at any time I required speech with him or desired his friendship and assistance, to send it to him as a reminder of his pledge of alliance. I entrust it in your hands, Master Ormerod."

Several hours later, when the lights of Albany were gleaming through the night, the governor said good-by to us at a sally-port. He offered no parting advice, indulged in no rounded homilies. That was not his way. He had laid all his cards before us on the table; he had taken us completely into his confidence; he had told us how much depended upon our effort. He was content with that.

"A safe journey," he called cheerily, "and whatever William Burnet may do for you, doubt not he will attempt."

That was all.

We set our feet to the Great Trail and made camp toward morning in the woods beyond Schenectady, deeming it best not to show ourselves in the settlements.

Our journey was uneventful. We rapidly traversed the Mohawk and Oneida countries, and came presently to Ka-na-ta-go-wa, the seat of the Council-Fire of the Great League, where To-do-da-ho dwelt. Ta-wan-ne-ars' brothers of the Wolf Clan made us welcome and sent a messenger to the venerable roy-an-eh, announcing the arrival of a party of ambassadors from Ga-en-gwa-ra-go. The following morning we were invited to the Council-House.

In the oblong, high-roofed bark building, with the undying fire burning in its center, To-do-da-ho sat amongst his brother roy-an-ehs, the chiefs and Keepers of the Faith. Ta-wan-ne-ars pointed them out to me: To-nes-sa-ah of the Beaver Clan; Da-at-ga-dose and Sa-da-kwa-ha of the Bear; Ga-nea-da-je-wake of the Snipe; and so on. To-do-ha-ho himself was a wrinkled wisp of a man who would have seemed a corpse as he crouched down, burdened with heavy robes, but for the warm brightness of his eyes that glowed from under beetling brows.

He made me welcome in a speech of high-sounding phrases, which Ta-wan-ne-ars translated; and I replied as best I could through the same medium, confining my remarks to expressions of the honor I felt in being so received and the affection in which the roy-an-eh and his people were held by the governor. We smoked the ceremonial pipe as usual, and the council broke up.

The real business was transacted the next day when we three had speech privately with To-do-da-ho, and I gave him the Belt of the Covenant Chain and the message of the governor. He heard me out in silence, and sat for a while smoking, his eyes fixed on vacancy. This was his answer:

"I have heard your words, O white man whose name I can not say. Ta-wan-ne-ars, whom I have known since he was a boy, says that you speak with a straight tongue, but I did not need his endorsement of you. I am a very old man, and the one thing I have learned in life has been to tell true talk from false. I hope that you will soon given an Indian name, so that we can speak to you more politely.

"Moreover, I know, too, that Ga-en-gwa-ra-go would not have sent to me a messenger with a belt who could not be trusted. Therefore I answer you with a straight tongue.

"What Ga-en-gwa-ra-go says by your mouth is so. I have watched with uneasiness the efforts of the French to control the fur-trade. So have many of our wise men, but most of our people are busy with their hunting and other affairs and they do not consider such matters. In this they are much like the white people.

"Ga-en-gwa-ra-go says that it is to the interest of the People of the Long House to break down the Doom Trail. I agree with him. But Ga-en-gwa-ra-go is a ruler of men, and he knows it is always difficult to induce a people to take a difficult course of action unless the suggestion comes from their midst. My counsel to you is that you continue on along the Great Trail to the country of the Senecas, and give the message of Ga-en-gwa-ra-go to Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, the Guardian of the Western Door.

"The Frenchman de Veulle has taken away the daughter of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, and you tell me that he has used her to set up a foul religion amongst the renegade Keepers of the Doom Trail. Murray is equally guilty with de Veulle in this matter. Do-ne-ho-ga-weh has a just cause for vengeance against them.

"Let him, as Guardian of the Western Door, send out belts for a meeting of the Ho-yar-na-go-war, giving warning that the French are building a fort at Jagara to be a menace against us and that they are encouraging Murray in his disregard of the rights of the Long House. So he will arouse the resentment of our people much better than could be done if I acted solely on the suggestion of Ga-en-gwa-ra-go."

"Will you support Do-ne-ho-ga-weh in a demand for an expedition against the Doom Trail?" I asked.

"I will," he replied.

There was no more to be said, and we resumed our journey that day. Peter and Ta-wan-ne-ars both approved of To-do-da-ho's suggestion. And indeed, as I thought it over, its sagacity became more and more apparent. 'Tis the instinct of any people to be suspicious of requests for assistance from outside their own ranks.

We sent messengers on ahead of us, and traveled leisurely, arriving at De-o-nun-da-ga-a on the sixth day after starting from Ka-na-ta-go-wa. Outside the village we encountered a party of young warriors of the Wolf Clan, who strung the scalps of Bolling, Tom and their Cahnuagas on a lance and marched before us in a kind of triumphal procession.

The splendid old Guardian of the Western Door, attended by his counselors and retainers, met us at the village limits and escorted us to the Council-House, where there was high feasting and a rendition of the Trotting Dance which is used to open councils or welcome ambassadors.

"Ya-ha-we-ya-ha!" chanted the leader.

"Ha-ha!" replied the dancers.

"Ga-no-ok-he-yo!" yelled the leader.

"Wa-ha-ah-he-yo!" howled the dancers.

"Ya-wa-na-he-yo!" sang the leader.

"Wo-ha-ah-ha!" came the rumbling response.

As on our former visit 'twas late at night when Do-ne-ho-ga-weh slipped back to our quarters, and we were able to talk freely of our mission. First, however, Ta-wan-ne-ars must recount our adventures at La Vierge du Bois and the scouting of the Doom Trail.

The roy-an-eh's face became convulsed with passion as Ta-wan-ne-ars described, in words I did not need to understand, the part which Ga-ha-no played in the evil life of the Keepers of the Trail. His hand played with the hilt of his scalping-knife as Ta-wan-ne-ars narrated how Peter and I had slain Red Death and Black Death.

Then Ta-wan-ne-ars translated my message from the governor and the advice of To-do-da-ho. I stressed the fort at Jagara, repeating excerpts of the conversation of Joncaire and de Lery. I told him of the increase in the price of furs at Montreal, and vast quantities of trade-goods which were passing over the Doom Trail and the unwillingness of the New York merchants to understand the political aspects of the French policy in permitting them to reap such golden profits. I emphasized the attitude toward the People of Long House which the French would take once they fastened their grip on the fur-trade and were safely entrenched at Jagara.

"Two things may be done, O roy-an-eh," I concluded. "Ga-en-gwa-ra-go might take up the hatchet against the French on behalf of Go-weh-go-wa and destroy the new fort at Jagara, or the People of the Long House might descend upon the Keepers of the Trail and destroy La Vierge du Bois and its wickedness. For Ga-en-gwa-ra-go to take up the hatchet would mean a long war, with much bloodshed, even if his people would obey him. For the People of the Long House to smash the Doom Trail would mean the use of one large war-party and at most a few weeks on the war-path. If the Doom Trail is smashed you need not worry over the fort at Jagara, for with Murray gone Ga-en-gwa-ra-go can soon control his own people, and we will dispose of Joncaire in due time. 'Tis for you to choose."

"Yo-hay!"[1] answered Do-ne-ho-ga-weh. "Your words have entered my ears, friend of my nephew. They are pleasant to me. I like to hear them. They arouse thoughts of the pain I wish to visit upon my enemies.

"I am much pleased that To-do-da-ho suggested you should come to me. It is true, as he says, that the People of the Long House will be more eager to fight if the appeal is made to them by one of their own leaders. I will make such an appeal.

"We will summon a council of the Senecas to meet tomorrow. I will present what you have told me to them. We will send out belts to the Cayugas, the Onondagas, the Oneidas, the Tuscaroras, the Mohawks. You shall come with me to the Ho-yar-na-go-war and hear me make good my promises.

"Na-ho!"

He knocked the ashes from his pipe, and rose to go; but in the doorway he tarried strangely.

"Has Do-ne-ho-ga-weh more to say to me?" I asked him through Ta-wan-ne-ars.

"Have you a father, white man?" he answered.

"My father is dead."

"My son is dead also. He died many years ago. I have a nephew—" a stern smile lighted his austere face—"but I would not have him otherwise.

"White man, your enemy is my enemy. You are a brave warrior. You are the friend of Ta-wan-ne-ars. Will you become my son?"

"Ja, ja," muttered Peter in my ear as Ta-wan-ne-ars translated with impartial accuracy. "Idt is a greadt honor."

"If Do-ne-ho-ga-weh thinks that I am worthy to be his son I shall accept his offer with pride," I replied.

"Good," he said phlegmatically, and his arm lifted in the gesture of salutation. "Tomorrow the Keepers of the Faith shall raise you up and find you a vacant name on the roll of the Wolf Clan."

XXV THE COUNCIL OF THE ROY-AN-EHS

The statesmen and warriors of the Senecas had come by hundreds to attend the tribal council at De-o-nun-da-ga-a. They squatted in serried ranks around the open place in the middle of the village where stood the ga-on-dote, or war-post, where public assemblies were held, where war-parties gathered when setting off upon expeditions, where prisoners were tortured and victories were celebrated.

They had come from near and far, from Nun-da-wa-o, the ancient village at the head of the Canandaigua Lake, which was the cradle of the tribe, and from the most remote ga-na-sote and the farthest frontiers of the immense domain which was ruled by the Keepers of the Western Door.

In front sat the eight roy-an-ehs and the two hereditary war-chiefs, the Wardens of the Door, the elective chiefs who had displayed merit in battle or negotiation, the Keepers of the Faith—and one white man, who was yet a Seneca, myself. Behind stretched row on row of warriors and huntsmen, and back of them the women and children.

The ceremonies were brief and were divided into two sessions upon different days. The first session was occupied mainly by the speech of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, explaining why he had summoned the council and pleading for authorization of the sending of belts to the other nations of the League so that the Ho-yar-na-go-war might be convened. He spoke at length in the midst of a silence so intense that the rustling of robes could be heard.

"You have heard my cause, O my people," he framed his peroration. "You know that the French have ravished one of the fairest daughters of the tribe. You know that I have been deeply wronged. You know that at Jagara, on land which is our land as much as that on which you now sit, the French are building a fort, and that they boast it will be a chain by which they will bind us in the future.

"You know that they scheme to gather into their own hands the fur-trade with the western tribes, so that we may no longer exact tribute of those who would pass through our territories to trade with the English. You know that ever since Onontio came to Quebec the French have been our enemies, and the English have been our friends. You know that these men, Murray and de Veulle, who have stolen my daughter, who have debased our ancient religion, who have deluded so many of the white men, who have built the foul nest of fiends who guard the Doom Trail, are the servants of the French.

"I ask you for vengeance. I ask you for the right to go before the Ho-yar-na-go-war. I speak with a straight tongue. I have witnesses by me. One is my nephew. Ta-wan-ne-ars. You know him. The other is O-te-ti-an-i,[1] my white son, who is a brother of the Wolf Clan.

"They are Senecas. They have been to Jagara, and talked with the Frenchmen there. They were carried captives to La Vierge du Bois, and escaped. They have seen the evil which is at work. They have found the secret of the Doom Trail, and they will lead our warriors to it.

"If you will follow them, O my people, you will gain rich spoils and take many scalps. The cries of your captives will delight your ears. Your families will be proud of you.

"Na-ho!"

The council broke up into separate councils of the five clans of the tribe, the Bear, Wolf, Turtle, Snipe and Hawk. After the clan councils had come to agreement, the roy-an-ehs of the several clans, as spokesmen, met and reached a joint agreement. Their response was made at the second session of the tribal council on the following day by Ga-ne-o-di-yo of the Turtle Clan, the senior roy-an-eh of the tribe.

"We have heard the pleas of the Guardian of the Western Door," he said. "We have discussed the stories told by Ta-wan-ne-ars and O-te-ti-an-i. We believe that all three have spoken with straight tongues. We believe that the Frenchman de Veulle has put a slight upon us, as well as upon Do-ne-ho-ga-weh and Ta-wan-ne-ars.

"We believe that Murray means harm to us. We believe that the trade over the Doom Trail is as dangerous to us as to the English. We believe that the French are our enemies.

"It is the judgment of the council that belts be sent to the brother nations for the meeting of the Ho-yar-na-go-war. Let the Counselors of the People decide what course is best.

"Na-ho!"

"Yo-hay!" echoed the audience.

That night the messengers were dispatched. They traveled night and day, with only the barest necessary intervals for food and sleep, and as they passed from nation to nation, the People of the Long House stirred with expectancy.

The Supreme Council of the League was summoned. Great events were under way. And on the heels of the messengers flowed a steadily swelling stream of men, women and children, for every family that had completed the harvest and Fall hunting was determined to be present upon so momentous an occasion.

The delegates of the Senecas found the Great Trail already choked with humanity when they set out from Nun-da-wa-o a week behind the messengers. It was like some highway of civilized life, with the difference that the current ran in but one direction. The faces of all were turned eastward toward the Onondaga Lake.

But when we reached the outskirts of Ka-na-ta-go-wa we encountered a second stream flowing westward. Senecas and Cayugas met and mingled with Oneidas, Tuscaroras and Mohawks, and Onondagas viewed the extraordinary confluence of people with grave interest.

The shores of the Onondaga Lake and the valley of the Onondaga River were outlined by the myriad camp-fires which marked the temporary habitations of this migratory swarm. The principal personages, of course, were entertained by their clan brethren in the Onondaga villages. But for the rank and file 'twas an occasion calling for the Indian's instinctive ability to make much out of nothing. Lodges of sticks and bark and skins, with fires in the door-ways, sufficed for hundreds of families, and whole villages sprang up in a day, each grouped about some strong or well-known personality, a favorite orator or successful war-chief, whose name was appropriated for the site.

Dancing and games, trials of skill with weapons, singing and feasting and story-telling occupied the time of the multitudes to whom the Ho-yar-na-go-war was an opportunity for escaping the monotony of forest life. They left to their leaders the serious business of government.

The roy-an-ehs of the different tribes visited one another; consultations were held; and Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, Ta-wan-ne-ars, Peter and myself were called upon again and again to repeat our arguments and offer the evidence we had gathered. In this way the roy-an-ehs familiarized themselves with the subject in advance of its formal presentation. 'Twas their habitual method whenever possible, I was told.

It must have been a week after our arrival that Ta-wan-ne-ars entered the Council-House of the Onondaga Wolves and announced the belated arrival of the Tuscarora delegation.

"It ill becomes the youngest nation of the League to come last," remarked Do-ne-ho-ga-weh.

"Aye, and all the more so when they are allowed to appear only by courtesy," rejoined Ta-wan-ne-ars.

"How is that?" I asked, full of curiosity to familiarize myself with the novel customs of my adopted people.

"The founders of the Long House created the fixed number of roy-an-ehs and divided them amongst the five original nations," explained Ta-wan-ne-ars whilst Do-ne-ho-ga-weh resumed his interrupted conversation with several Oneida Wolves. "When the Tuscaroras and other nations applied for the protection of the League it was given with the understanding that they could not disrupt our ancient organization. In the case of the Tuscaroras, however, because they had been a great nation, we gave them the privilege of being represented at the Ho-yar-na-go-war, although their representatives may not take part in the deliberations."

"How many of the roy-an-ehs will attend?"

"All of the forty-eight are here."

"Is that the total?"

"No, brother. The Founders created fifty places, but when they themselves died it was determined that no other men should ever hold their names. So, as the Founders were both Mohawks, that tribe today has but seven, instead of the nine, roy-an-ehs apportioned to it, and when the Keeper of the Wampum calls the roll of the roy-an-ehs tomorrow there will be no answer to two of the names—unless it be that Da-ga-na-we-da and Ha-yo-wont-ha make answer from their lodges in the Halls of the Ho-no-che-no-keh."

That afternoon To-do-da-ho proclaimed the meeting of the Ho-yar-na-go-war for the next day, and my friends busied themselves in oiling their skins, painting their clan emblems and donning their choicest garments. In the morning the delegations of the six nations left their headquarters, and marched with slow dignity to the Council-Ground, a broad meadow on the edge of the forest above the river valley.

In the center of the meadow a fire had been kindled from brands of the sacred, undying Council-Fire which burned in the Council-House and had burned in one spot or another of the Onondaga Valley ever since that dim day, far, far back in the remote past of history, when the Long House was built.

Around the fire the roy-an-ehs ranged themselves, each with his assistant behind him. Of them all only Do-ne-ho-ga-weh was allowed two supporters, and I had been permitted to take the place of one of these—that of So-no-so-wa, the junior hereditary war-chief, who had been left at De-o-nun-da-ga-a to maintain the guard on the all-important Western Door. With Ta-wan-ne-ars beside me to give necessary instructions, I stood at Do-ne-ho-ga-weh's back and watched the imposing ceremonies.

My task was to hold the skin robe of the roy-an-eh upon which he sat during the deliberations. Ta-wan-ne-ars carried a bundle of red-cedar fagots, denoting that the Council was held to decide a question of war. Had its object been peaceful the fagots would have been of white cedar.

In the center of the circle, on the eastern side, stood the Keeper of the Wampum, Ho-yo-we-na-to, an Onondaga Wolf and seventh of the roy-an-ehs of his nation.

"Are you all here, roy-an-ehs of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee?" he called.

"We are all here," replied the roy-an-ehs.

"Now, then," he continued, "behold, I call the roll of you, you who were the Great Ones, you who were the Shining Ones, you who were joined with the Pounders. And first I call the roll of the peoples. Are you here, O Da-go-e-o-ga, the Shield People?"

"We are here, O Keeper," replied Da-ga-e-o-ga, senior roy-an-eh of the Mohawks.

"Are you here, O Ho-de-san-no-ge-ta, the Name-Bearers?"

"We are here," replied To-do-da-ho for the Onondagas.

"Are you here, O Ho-nan-ne-ho-ont, the Keepers of the Door?"

"We are here," replied Ga-ne-o-di-yo for the Senecas.

"Are you here, O Ne-ar-de-on-dar-go-war, the Great Tree People?"

"We are here," replied Ho-das-ha-teh, senior roy-an-eh of the Oneidas.

"Are you here, O So-nus-ho-gwa-to-war, Great Pipe People?"

"We are here," replied Da-ga-a-yo of the Cayuga Deers.

"Are you here, O Dus-ga-o-weh-o-no, Shirt-Wearing People?"

"We are here," echoed a Tuscarora chief from the position of his people just outside the charmed circle of the roy-an-ehs.

Ho-yo-we-na-to raised his arms in a gesture of invocation.

"The peoples are here, O Founders who sit aloft with Ha-wen-ne-yu. Heed ye now, O peoples. I begin the Roll of the Great Ones."

And his resonant voice sounded like trumpet-blasts blown for a victory as he intoned the names of the roy-an-ehs, beginning with Da-ga-e-o-ga of the Mohawk Turtles and ending with Do-ne-ho-ga-weh of the Seneca Wolves. When, immediately after the name of Da-ga-e-o-ga, he called the names of the Founders, Ha-yo-wont-ha and Da-ga-no-we-da, he paused, and the immense concourse of Indians who stood and sat around the fringes of the meadow all turned their eyes skyward, as if expecting some demonstration from the Shining Ones.

Again the Keeper of the Wampum raised his arms in invocation. Then he took from the ground at his feet belt after belt of wampum, and from the designs woven into them recited, clearly and rapidly, the principal events in the recorded history of the League and the rules prescribed for the conduct of the Ho-yar-na-go-war. At the end of his recitative, which was crudely rhythmical, he addressed himself once more to the assemblage.

Under his direction the skin robes of the roy-an-ehs were deposited on the ground with the fagots in front of them. The Mohawks, Onondagas and Senecas, the senior nations, who were brothers to each other, were ranged on the eastern half of the circle, with the rising sun at their backs. The Cayugas and Oneidas, who were sons to the three senior nations, with the Tuscaroras sitting behind them, were on the western side.

The Keeper of the Wampum next set fire to his own fagot by friction, and then passed around the circle, setting each fagot alight, so that a circle of little fires blazed up around the sacred Council-Fire. When all the fires were going he returned to his place and led the roy-an-ehs in a stately procession three times around the circle, each turning from time to time as he walked, so as to expose both sides of his person to the heat in typification of the warming influence of their mutual affections.

With the completion of the third round the fagots had been burned to cinders; the roy-an-ehs were all seated; and the deliberations of the Council were begun, the direction of affairs passing simultaneously from the hands of the Keeper of the Wampum to To-do-da-ho.

"We are met, O my brethren," began the venerable Onondaga, "to decide whether or no we shall lift the hatchet. Do-ne-ho-ga-weh speaks for the Keepers of the Door who ask for war."

There would be no point in repeating Do-ne-ho-ga-weh's oration. It was masterly, superior even to the address by which he carried his own people with him. The intervening days had given him time for thought and his statements were the more convincing, his figures more polished, his arguments more closely reasoned.

He arraigned the whole history of the intercourse of the French with the League. He described how de Veulle had lured away Ga-ha-no as a young maid. He expanded the designs of Murray and his French allies. He touched glowingly upon the friendship of the English. He pointed out how the fortunes of the two peoples had become intertwined.

The roy-an-ehs and the attendant throngs sat phlegmatically through it all. An audience of white men must have applauded or derided so positive a speaker, and I expressed my fears to Ta-wan-ne-ars. He smiled.

"It is the custom of my people," he whispered. "Wait, brother, until the speeches in answer come."

At last Do-ne-ho-ga-weh sat down. An interval of some minutes elapsed. Then a roy-an-eh of the Mohawks arose.

"My people have been much concerned over the power which Murray has acquired," he said. "But it has seemed to us that it was more dangerous to Ga-en-gwa-ra-go than to us. Why do not the English scotch this snake in their midst?"

Do-ne-ho-ga-weh explained succinctly the situation which existed in New York. A Cayuga responded, expressing amazement that the English, who were usually so sensible, should act in such a childish manner. He concluded by asking if the League might expect the help of the English in an attack upon the Doom Trail.

This was the most difficult point we had to overcome, and Do-ne-ho-ga-weh replied with circumspection.

"It is true, as my brother has said," he answered, "that we might expect the English to move with us in this matter. But my friends among the English send me word that their people are blinded for the moment by the falsities of Murray and the French. Their counsels are divided.

"Ga-en-gwa-ra-go would welcome our action, and would support it and protect us from the vengeance of France. But he would find it difficult to act himself."

"If Ga-en-gwa-ra-go will not act, why should the League act?" demanded the Cayuga.

"Because it is to the interest of our people to act even more than it is to the interest of the English," retorted Do-ne-ho-ga-weh with impassioned energy. "Already the English are more numerous than we are. They have strong forts. We have only the forest. They have brothers across the Great Water who will aid them. We have only the uncertain aid of our allies and subject tribes.

"Some day the French will try to drive the English from the land, but before they can do that they must destroy our League. It is we who will feel the first blow, and Murray's trade over the Doom Trail and his bands of Keepers of the Trail are in preparation for the destruction of the Long House. If you wait, O my people, you will perish. If you strike now you will live and the League will continue.

"The decision is in your hands. If you fight for the English you will survive and grow stronger. If you fight for the French or if you do not fight for the English, you will slowly be crippled and in a little time you will be no more feared than the Mohicans or the Eries.

"Na-ho!"

That was the last speech of the day, and the Council adjourned, only, as in the case of the Senecas' tribal council, to dissolve into minor councils of the roy-an-ehs of the different clan groups in each tribe. These continued throughout the following day, and as the roy-an-ehs of one clan agreed they consulted amongst themselves with the roy-an-ehs of another clan group, and so gradually the representatives of an entire tribe came to an accord.

When the representatives of each tribe had reached the unanimity which was required by the laws of the League, they discussed the situation informally with the roy-an-ehs of the other tribes; and on the fifth day To-do-da-ho summoned the final and decisive session of the Ho-yar-na-go-war.

The preliminary ceremonies were brief. After an invocation to the Great Spirit by the Keeper of the Wampum, To-do-da-ho delivered the common judgment of the roy-an-ehs.

"Murray and the Keepers of the Doom Trail are the enemies of the Long House. We must break them now before they grow too powerful. Therefore we have decided to take up the hatchet against them. But we shall send word to Ga-en-gwa-ra-go, appealing to him, by virtue of the covenant chain between us, to support us against the vengeance of the French. This is the decision of the Ho-yar-na-go-war, O my people."

"Yo-hay!" answered the roy-an-ehs.

And the thousands of people in the meadow echoed the shout.

Do-ne-ho-ga-weh stood up.

"I have a favor to ask of the Council, O my brothers," he said. "Will you relieve me of my duties as Guardian of the Western Door so that I may raise the warriors who will go against the Doom Trail?"

"The request of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh is granted," replied To-do-da-ho after a short consultation with the roy-an-ehs. "Let him set up the war-post and strike it with his hatchet. Many brave warriors will be glad to follow so famous a chief. So-no-so-wa, who now holds the Door, shall continue his watch until Do-ne-ho-ga-weh returns to tell of the many scalps he took."

The bystanders responded with the war-whoop; but my attention was diverted by a young Onondaga who attempted to explain something to me in his dialect. Seeing I could not understand, Ta-wan-ne-ars approached and listened to him, a look of astonishment creasing his usually impassive face.

"The Onondaga says that a Frenchman has come to the village who claims to have a message for you," translated the Seneca.

"For me? Who can it be from?"

But even as I asked, a sense of foreboding gripped me.

"I do not know, brother. Let us hasten and find out."

We pushed our way through the masses of warriors already beginning the war-dance, and ran between the vegetable gardens toward Ka-na-ta-go-wa, the roofs of whose long houses showed above the tree-tops of the lower ground.

XXVI THE EVIL WOOD

We found the messenger squatting placidly by the Council-House under the guard of several Onondagas, who obviously did not relish the sight of a Frenchman in their midst during the sitting of the Ho-yar-na-go-war. He put aside his pipe as we approached and stood up. But for his white skin, which was rather dingy under a coating of tan and dirt, 'twould have been difficult to distinguish him from the savages. He was of the usual type of courrier du bois, but with an unusually repellant countenance.

"You have a message for me?" I said.

"Are you Monsieur Ormerod?" he replied in his peasant's patois.

"I am."

He examined me with a sidewise squint out of his shifty eyes, and fished with one hand in the bosom of his filthy leather shirt.

"You will pay for the service?" he inquired warily.

"Anything in reason," I answered impatiently.

"She said you would pay what I asked," he temporized.

"She! Who?"

My worst fears were confirmed. I took one step forward and grasped the ruffian by the arm.

"Who?" I repeated. "Tell me, if you value your life! And give me the message."

"No offense, no offense, monsieur" he growled, pulling away from me. "Mademoiselle Murray——"

"Give it to me," I insisted. "We will talk of pay afterward."

He reluctantly withdrew his hand from his shirt, and offered me a folded square of heavy paper, stained with sweat. I opened it carefully, lest it tear, and saw these lines of fine, angular writing staring me in the face:

"La Vierge du Bois, ye 21st Sptr., 1725.

You said You wld. come if I calld for You. I Begge you now, in ye Name of All you Holde Deer, help Mee. I am to be Forcd to wed ye Chev. de Veulle. 'Tis ye Price he has Fixd for his Services to Mr. Murray. They have Procurd a Dispensation from ye Bishoppe of Quebec. They will Marrie me whenne Père Hyancinthe is returnd from a Visitt to ye Dionondadies by ye Huronne Lake. So much grace I have obtaned from them. Help Mee. MARJORY.

Do notte Trust ye messenjer who Carries this, but plese Pay him What he asks. Come by ye waye you Lefte through ye Woodde of ye Fake Faces.

Stunned, I read it a second time, then handed it to Ta-wan-ne-ars.

"What is your name!" I asked the messenger whilst Ta-wan-ne-ars scanned the paper.

"Baptiste Meurier," he said sullenly.

"How long since is it that you started from La Vierge du Bois!"

"Five weeks more or less. Monsieur has been difficult to find."

"More," I decided, remembering the date on the letter. "Do you know what the message said?"

"How should I, monsieur?" he objected quickly. "Me, I do not read."

"Was there no other word?"

"Mais, non."

"Who gave you the paper?"

"Who but the mademoiselle herself?"

"How did she happen to choose you?"

He protruded his chest.

"Who better could she select than Baptiste Meurier?" he replied. "North of the Lakes every one knows Baptiste Meurier—and I am not unknown to the Iroquois."

"But how did the mademoiselle hear of you, Baptiste?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Who can say? A beautiful young person says she has a mission of much importance and profit to be performed. I reply I will go anywhere for a price. I am told I have only to name it. And so I am here, monsieur."

"And what is your price?" I inquired, amused despite myself by the cool insolence of the scoundrel.

"Two hundred livres," he said instantly.

"Very well. It shall be paid. You will be detained here for a time, and I will purchase for you a sufficient number of beaver-pelts to defray that sum. Is that satisfactory?"

"Why should I have to wait?" he parried. "Peste, Winter draws on fast, and I——"

"You will wait," I cut him off. "And you will be paid."

And, turning to Ta-wan-ne-ars, I asked him to give the necessary instructions to the Onondagas. The messenger, a look of sour satisfaction on his cunning face, was marched off to undergo the restraint of an unwelcome visitor.

"Well?" I said to Ta-wan-ne-ars.

The Seneca returned me the letter.

"See," he said, pointing to the wild geese flying in pairs to the south, "the cold weather is coming. For the last week the northern sky has been hard and clear. There has been snow beyond the Lakes."

"What does that mean!" I demanded.

"That Black Robe will be delayed in returning from his visit to the Dionondadies. And that is a very good thing for us, brother. But for that I think we would be too late."

"But we shall have fighting," I exclaimed. "The Keepers will soon discover us, and no matter how numerous we may be they will fight desperately. They may carry her away to Canada before we reach La Vierge du Bois."

"That is true," he admitted. "And the thought Ta-wan-ne-ars had, brother, was that we might leave to Do-ne-ho-ga-weh and Corlaer the breaking of the Doom Trail whilst you and I with a handful of warriors marched around by the way we escaped, as the white maiden advises in her letter. That way is not guarded, for none has known it, and perhaps we may hide in the Wood of the False Faces and bear off the maiden in the confusion of a surprize attack."

"It sounds reasonable," I said doubtfully. "'Tis preferable to trusting to the main attack."

"There is no other plan," he rejoined with energy. "Moreover, as my brother knows, Ta-wan-ne-ars seeks to save Ga-ha-no, too."

The hint of pain in his voice, which was never absent when he spoke of his lost love, shamed me for the instinctive selfishness which had made me concerned only with my own troubles.

"We will not save one without the other," I cried. "No, Ta-wan-ne-ars, do we not owe our lives as much to her as to Marjory?"

"What you say is true," he replied. "But let us not talk of what we will do until the time comes. I hope that the Great Spirit will be lenient with my Lost Soul, yet it may be her time has not come. If it has come we shall save her. If it has not Ta-wan-ne-ars will try again."

"And so will I."

"My brother is generous, as always," he said simply. "Now we must tell what we have learned to Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, and arrange our plans with him."

The Guardian of the Western Door was the center of an immense mob of warriors who danced around the war-post which had been planted in the Council-Place. Man after man, chanting the deeds he had performed or those he pledged himself to in the future, rushed up and struck the post with his hatchet in token of his intent to participate in the expedition.

The grim face of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh was alight with the joy of battle.

"Behold, O my son," he called to me, "the warriors of the Eight Clans are with us. Our brothers of the Turtle, Beaver, Bear and Wolf, and our younger brothers of the Snipe, Heron, Deer and Hawk, all hunger for the scalps of the Keepers of the Trail.

"A thousand braves will follow us on the war-path. We will give the French a lesson. They shall see the might of the Long House."

But the light faded from his features as Ta-wan-ne-ars told him of the message from Marjory. A look of cold hatred accentuated the grimness of the hooked nose and high cheekbones.

"The French dog de Veulle is wearied of Ga-ha-no," he rasped. "He has had enough of the red maiden. Now he craves the white. Yes, it is well that my red nephew and my white son should go against this man who knows no laws to curb his lust.

"He may think that I am only an Indian, but my fathers have been roy-an-ehs and chiefs for more moons than I could count in the whole of a moon. They sat beside the Founders. They took in marriage and they gave in marriage. It is time that this insult to their memory was wiped out. Let it be wiped out in a river of blood. Then, O my nephew and my son, draw; his scalp across his trail so that no man can tell he ever passed. I charge you, do not spare him."

"We will not spare him, O ha-nih,[1]" I promised.

"Good! It shall be as you ask. Corlaer shall guide me to the Doom Trail. How many warriors are to go with you?"

We debated this point together, and decided that for purposes of swift movement and secrecy we had best restrict our escort to twenty men. Do-ne-ho-ga-weh approved this number.

"Do nothing, if you can help it, until we have begun our attack," he said. "If you must move without us, rely upon flight, for you can not hope to succeed by fighting."

The remainder of that day was devoted to the organization of our party and the instruction of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh and his lieutenants in the geography of the Doom Trail and the bearing of La Vierge du Bois, which, it must be remembered, no hostile tongue had been able to describe until Ta-wan-ne-ars and I had escaped from the clutches of the False Faces.

Our party mustered at dawn the next morning. It consisted of twenty stalwart young Seneca Wolves, each man selected by Ta-wan-ne-ars for strength and wind. Despite the chill of advancing Winter in the air, they were stripped to the waist, their leather shirts rolled in packages which were slung from their shoulders. In addition to their clothing and weapons each man also carried two lengthy contrivances of wood, with hide strips laced across them.

"What are they for?" I asked as Ta-wan-ne-ars presented me with a pair and showed me how to fasten them on my back so that the narrower ends stuck up over my head.

"Ga-weh-ga—snow-shoes," he replied. "In the wilderness, brother, the snow lies deep, and we should sink down at every step once the ground was covered after the first storm. You must learn how to use the ga-weh-ga, for otherwise you would be helpless."

Few Indians in the long chain of encampments in the Onondaga Valley saw us march forth, and those who did thought we were only an advance scout, for we kept our purpose a strict secret, even from the warriors of our escort. They were told no more than that they were given an opportunity to go upon a hazardous venture which should yield them fame and a proportionate toll of scalps.

That was all they wanted to know. Ta-wan-ne-ars was a leader they had fought under before. I was assigned a wholly undeserved measure of fame because of my recent adventures in his company.

We marched rapidly, taking advantage of the withering of the foliage to abandon the Great Trail and cut across country through the forest, which stood untouched outside the infrequent clearings of the Iroquois. For three days we averaged thirty miles a day, and each day, when, we camped, I practised with the snow-shoes on some level bit of ground, learning how to walk without catching the points and tripping myself.

We had not gone very far on the fourth day when O-da-wa-an-do, the Otter, a warrior who had attached himself to me, pointed through the leafless trees toward a grayish-white bank which was rolling down upon us from the north.

"O-ge-on-de-o," he said. "It snows."

The word was passed along the line, and Ta-wan-ne-ars ordered the warriors to don their shirts. Fifteen minutes later the snow began to fall. Driven by a piercing wind, it descended like a vast, enveloping blanket, coldly damp, strangling the breath, blinding the eyes, numbing the muscles.

We struggled along against it until we came to a hillside scattered with large boulders. Here we halted and built shelters for ourselves by roofing the boulders with pine saplings we hacked down with our tomahawks. Under these, with fires roaring at our feet, we made shift to resist the cold.

The snow fell for the better part of two days, so thickly as to preclude traveling, and during that time we dared not stir from shelter, except to collect firewood. In the evening of the second day the storm passed, and the stars shone out in a sky that was a hard, metallic blue.

"We have lost much time, brothers," said Ta-wan-ne-ars, "and we have had a long rest. Let us push on tonight."

After the fashion of the Iroquois he always gave his commands in the form of advice; but no warrior ever thought of disputing him.

"I no longer see the Loon above us," I remarked to him as I put on my snow-shoes. "How shall you find your way?"

"The Great Spirit has taken care of that," he answered, and he raised his arm toward the sparkling group of the Pleiades. "There are the Got-gwen-dar, the Seven Dancers. They shine for us in the Winter, and we shall guide our steps by them."

Our progress that night and for several days afterward was slowed considerably by my clumsiness on snow-shoes. But The Otter and other warriors went to considerable pains to help me, picking out the easiest courses to follow, quick with hint or advice to remedy my ignorance. I became proficient enough to travel at the tail of the column, although my companions could never march as rapidly as they would have done without me.

After starting we met only one party of Oneida hunters, who had not heard of the decision of the Ho-yar-na-go-war to take the war-path against Murray. The Mohawks had all retired to their villages for the Winter, and the wilderness which was traversed by the Doom Trail was deserted because of the universal Indian fear of the False Faces. Ta-wan-ne-ars and I discussed this point as we neared the forbidden country, and I suggested that he tell his followers our destination.

He waited until we were a long day's march from and well to the northwest of the goal. Then he gathered the warriors about him as they mustered for the trail.

"Soon, O my brothers," he said in the musical, cadenced Seneca dialect which I was beginning to take pleasure in understanding, "we shall strike our enemies. It is a desperate enterprise you go upon. No war-party ever set out to risk such heavy odds. No warriors of the Long House were ever called upon to practise such caution, to reveal such courage.

"O my brothers, we are going into the Wood of Evil, the haunt of the False Faces which is the breeding-place of all the wickedness that brands the Keepers of the Doom Trail. You will face much that is horrible. You will be threatened with spells and witchcraft. But I ask you to remember that my brother O-te-ti-an-i and I passed through all such perils without harm. Keep your hearts strong."

"Yo-hay," muttered the warriors in gutteral assent. "We will keep our hearts strong, O Ta-wan-ne-ars."

Their faces were more serious than before, but they exhibited no signs of fear. Several asked questions as to the False Faces and their rites, and we explained to them the false atmosphere of horror which had been spread designedly to protect the traffic of the Doom Trail.

We moved much more cautiously now that we were near our journey's end, with three scouts always in front, one on either flank of the path we trod. But we saw no signs of other men, although many times we came upon bear-tracks. Toward evening we struck the waters of the tumbling little river through which Ta-wan-ne-ars and I had waded that night after Marjory had released us.