by John Fox
XII
Dressed as an Indian, Erskine rode forth next morning with a wampum beltand a talk for the council north where the British were to meet Shawnee,Iroquois, and Algonquin, and urge them to enter the great war that wasjust breaking forth. There was open and angry protest against sending soyoung a lad on so great a mission, but the old chief haughtily brushedit aside:
"He is young but his feet are swift, his arm is strong, his heart good,and his head is old. He speaks the tongue of the paleface. Besides, heis my son."
One question the boy asked as he made ready:
"The white woman must not be burned while I am gone?"
"No," promised the old chief. And so White Arrow fared forth. Four dayshe rode through the north woods, and on the fifth he strode through thestreets of a town that was yet filled with great forest trees: a town atwhich he had spent three winters when the game was scarce and the tribehad moved north for good. He lodged with no chief but slept in the woodswith his feet to the fire. The next night he slipped to the house of theold priest, Father Andre, who had taught him some religion and a littleFrench, and the old man welcomed him as a son, though he noted sadly hisIndian dress and was distressed when he heard the lad's mission. He wasquickly relieved.
"I am no royalist," he said.
"Nor am I," said Erskine. "I came because Kahtoo, who seemed nigh todeath, begged me to come. There is much intrigue about him, and he couldtrust no other. I am only a messenger and I shall speak his talk; but myheart is with the Americans and I shall fight with them." The old priestput his fingers to his lips:
"Sh-h-h! It is not wise. Are you not known?"
Erskine hesitated.
Earlier that morning he had seen three officers riding in. Following wasa youth not in uniform though he carried a sword. On the contrary, hewas dressed like an English dandy, and then he found himself face toface with Dane Grey. With no sign of recognition the boy had met hiseyes squarely and passed on.
"There is but one man who does know me and he did not recognize me. Hisname is Dane Grey. I am wondering what he is doing here. Can you findout for me and let me know?" The old priest nodded and Erskine slippedback to the woods.
At sunrise the great council began. On his way Erskine met Grey, whoapparently was leaving with a band of traders for Detroit. Again Erskinemet his eyes and this time Grey smiled:
"Aren't you White Arrow?" Somehow the tone with which he spoke the namewas an insult.
"Yes."
"Then it's true. We heard that you had left your friends at the fort andbecome an Indian again."
"Yes?"
"So you are not only going to fight with the Indians against the whites,but with the British against America?"
"What I am going to do is no business of yours," Erskine said quietly,"but I hope we shall not be on the same side. We may meet again."
Grey's face was already red with drink and it turned purple with anger.
"When you tried to stab me do you remember what I said?" Erskine noddedcontemptuously.
"Well, I repeat it. Whatever the side, I'll fight you anywhere at anytime and in any way you please."
"Why not now?"
"This is not the time for private quarrels and you know it."
Erskine bowed slightly--an act that came oddly from an Indian head-dress.
"I can wait--and I shall not forget. The day will come."
The old priest touched Erskine's shoulder as the angry youth rode away.
"I cannot make it out," he said. "He claims to represent an English furcompany. His talk is British but he told one man--last night when he wasdrunk--that he could have a commission in the American army."
The council-fire was built, the flames crackled and the smoke rolledupward and swept through the leafless trees. Three British agents sat onblankets and around them the chiefs were ringed. All day the powwowlasted. Each agent spoke and the burden of his talk varied very little.
The American palefaces had driven the Indian over the great wall. Theywere killing his deer, buffalo, and elk, robbing him of his land andpushing him ever backward. They were many and they would become more.The British were the Indian's friends--the Americans were his enemies andtheirs; could they choose to fight with their enemies rather than withtheir friends? Each chief answered in turn, and each cast forward hiswampum until only Erskine, who had sat silent, remained, and Pontiachimself turned to him.
"What says the son of Kahtoo?"
Even as he rose the lad saw creeping to the outer ring his enemy CrookedLightning, but he appeared not to see. The whites looked surprised whenhis boyish figure stood straight, and they were amazed when he addressedthe traders in French, the agents in English, and spoke to the featheredchiefs in their own tongue. He cast the belt forward.
"That is Kahtoo's talk, but this is mine."
Who had driven the Indian from the great waters to the great wall? TheBritish. Who were the Americans until now? British. Why were theAmericans fighting now? Because the British, their kinsmen, would notgive them their rights. If the British would drive the Indian to thegreat wall, would they not go on doing what they charged the Americanswith doing now? If the Indians must fight, why fight with the British tobeat the Americans, and then have to fight both a later day? If theBritish would not treat their own kinsmen fairly, was it likely thatthey would treat the Indian fairly? They had never done so yet. Would itnot be better for the Indian to make the white man on his own land afriend rather than the white man who lived more than a moon away acrossthe big seas? Only one gesture the lad made. He lifted his hand high andpaused. Crooked Lightning had sprung to his feet with a hoarse cry.Already the white men had grown uneasy, for the chiefs had turned to theboy with startled interest at his first sentence and they could not knowwhat he was saying. But they looked relieved when Crooked Lightningrose, for his was the only face in the assembly that was hostile to theboy. With a gesture Pontiac bade Crooked Lightning speak.
"That is Kahtoo's talk, but this is mine"]
"The tongue of White Arrow is forked. I have heard him say he wouldfight with the Long Knives against the British and he would fight withthem even against his own tribe." One grunt of rage ran the round ofthree circles and yet Pontiac stopped Crooked Lightning and turned tothe lad. Slowly the boy's uplifted hand came down. With a bound heleaped through the head-dress of a chief in the outer ring and sped awaythrough the village. Some started on foot after him, some rushed totheir ponies, and some sent arrows and bullets after him. At the edge ofthe village the boy gave a loud, clear call and then another as he ran.Something black sprang snorting from the edge of the woods with pointedears and searching eyes. Another call came and like the swirling edge ofa hurricane-driven thunder-cloud Firefly swept after his master. The boyran to meet him, caught one hand in his mane before he stopped, swunghimself up, and in a hail of arrows and bullets swept out of sight.