CHAPTER XIV
THE LITTLE RED FOOT
By dusk we were ten rifles; for an hour after we left Fish House JohnnySilver and Luysnes joined us on the Sacandaga trail; and, just as thesun set behind the Mayfield mountains, comes rushing down stream a canoewith Godfrey Shew's bow-paddle flashing red in the last rays and Joe deGolyer steering amid the rattling rapids, nigh buried in a mountain ofsilvery spray.
And here, by the river, we ate, but lighted no fire, though it seemedsafe to do so.
I sent Godfrey Shew and the Water-snake far up the Iroquois trail towatch it. The others gathered in a friendly circle to munch their cornand jerked meat, and the Frenchmen were merry, laughing and jesting andcasting sly, amorous eyes toward Thiohero, who laughed, too, in friendlyfashion and was at her ease and plainly not displeased with gallantry.
It had proved a swift comradery between us and our young Oneidas, and Imarvelled at the rapid accomplishment of such friendly accord in sobrief a time, yet understood it came through the perfect faith of theseOneidas in their young Athabasca witch; and that what their prophetessfound good they did not even think of questioning.
Her voice was soft, her smile bewitching; she ate with the healthyappetite of an animal, yet was polite to those who offered meat. And hersweet "neah-wennah"[9] never failed any courtesy offered by these roughForest Runners, who now, for the first time in their reckless lives, Ithink, were afforded a glimpse of the forest Indian as he really is whenat his ease and among friends.
[Footnote 9: Thank you.]
For it is not true that the Iroquois live perpetually in their paint;that they are cruel by nature, brutal, stern, and masters of silence; orthat they stalk gloomily through life with hatchet ever loosened and nopursuit except war in their ferocious minds.
White men who have mistreated them see them so; but the real Iroquois,except the Senecas, who are different, are naturally a kindly, merry,and trustful people among themselves, not quarrelsome, not fierce, butlike children, loving laughter and all things gay and bright andmischievous.
Their women, though sometimes broad in speech and jests, are more trulychaste in conduct than the women of any nation I ever heard of, exceptthe Irish.
They have their fixed and honourable places in clan, nation, and Federalaffairs.
Rank follows the female line; the son of a chief does not succeed to theantlers, but any of his mother's relatives may. And in the Great Rite ofthe Iroquois, which is as sacred to them as is our religion to us, andcouched in poetry as beautiful as ever Homer sang, the most moving partof the ceremony concerns the Iroquois women,--the women of the SixNations of the Long House, respected, honoured, and beloved.
* * * * *
We ate leisurely, feeling perfectly secure there in the starlight of thesoft June night.
The Iroquois war-trail ran at our elbows, trodden a foot deep, hard as asheep path, and from eighteen inches to two feet in width--a clean,firm, unbroken trail through a primeval wilderness, running mile aftermile, mile after mile, over mountains, through valleys, by lonely lakes,along lost rivers, to the distant Canadas in the North.
On this trail, above us, two of my men lay watching, as I have said,which was merely a customary precaution, for we were far out of earshotof the Big Eddy, and even of our own sentries.
We were like one family eating together, and Silver and Luysnes jestedand played pranks on each other, and de Golyer and Nick entered intogayest conversation with the Oneidas through their interpreter, theRiver-reed.
As for Nick, I saw him making calf's eyes at the lithe young sorceress,which I perceived displeased her not at all; yet she gaily dividedherself between translating for the others and keeping up a livelyrepartee with Nick.
The Oneidas, now, had begun to shine up their war-hatchets, sittingcross-legged and contentedly rubbing up knife, axe, and rifle; and I wasglad to see them so at home and so confident of our friendship.
Older men might not have been so easily won, but these untried youngwarriors seemed very children, and possessing the lovable qualities ofchildren, being alternately grave and gay, serious and laughing, frankand impatient, yet caressing in speech and gesture.
From Kwiyeh, the Screech-owl, I had an account of how, burning forglory, these four youngsters had stolen away from Oneida Lake, and,painting themselves, had gone North of their own accord, to win fame forthe Oneida nation, which for the greater part had espoused our cause.
He told me that they had seen Sir John pass, floundering madly northwardand dragging three brass cannon; but explained naively that four Oneidasconsidered it unsafe to give battle to two hundred white men.
For a week, however, it appeared, they had hung on Sir John's flanks,skulking for a stray scalp; but it was evident that the Baronet's peoplewere thoroughly frightened, and the heavy flank guards and the tripleline of sentries by night made any hope of a stray scalp futile.
Then, it appeared, these four Oneidas gave up the quest and struck outfor the Iroquois trail. And suddenly came upon nearly two score Mohawks,silently passing southward, painted for war, oiled, shaved, andstripped, and evidently searching for Sir John, to aid and guide him inhis flight to Canada.
Which proved to me the Baronet's baseness, because his flight wasplainly a premeditated one, and the Mohawks could not have known of itunless Sir John had been in constant communication with Canada--a thinghe had pledged his honour not to do.
Others around me, now, were listening to the burly young Oneida'saccount of their first war-path; and presently their young sorceresstook up the tale in English and in Oneida, explaining with livelygestures to both red men and white.
"Not one of the Mohawks saw us," she said scornfully, "and when theymade a camp and had sent their hunters out to kill game, we came so nearthat we could see their warriors curing and hooping the scalps they hadtaken and painting on every scalp the Little Red Foot[10]--even on thescalps of two little boys."
[Footnote 10: To show that the late owner of the scalp had died fightingbravely.]
Nick turned pale, but said nothing. A sickness came to my stomach and Ispoke with difficulty.
"What were these scalps, little sister, which you saw the Mohawkscuring?"
"White people's. Three were of men,--one very thin and gray; two werethe glossy hair of women; and two the scalps of children----"
She flung back her blanket with a peculiarly graceful gesture:
"Be honoured, O white brothers, that these Mohawk dogs were forced topaint upon every scalp the Little Red Foot!"
After a silence: "Some poor settler's family," muttered Nick; and fella-fiddling with his hatchet.
"All died fighting," I added in a dull voice.
Thiohero snapped her fingers and her dark eyes flamed.
"What are the Mohawks, after all!" she said in a tense voice. "Who arethey, to paint for war without fire-right given them at Onondaga? Whatdo they amount to, these Keepers of the Eastern Gate, since Sir Williamdied?
"They have become outlaws and there is no honour among them!
"Their clan-right is destroyed and neither Wolf, Bear, nor Tortoise knowthem any longer. Nor does any ensign of my own clan of the Heron knowthese mad yellow wolves that howl and tear the Long House with theirteeth to destroy it! Like carcajoux, they defile the Iroquois League andsmother its fire in their filth! Dig up the ashes of Onondaga for anyliving ember, O you Oneidas! You shall find not one live spark! And thisis what the Canienga have done to the Great Confederacy!"
Tahioni said, looking straight ahead of him: "The Great League of theIroquois is broken. Skenandoa has said it, and he has painted his facescarlet! The Long House crumbles slowly to its fall.
"Those who should have guarded the Eastern Gate have broken it down.Death to the Canienga!"
Kwiyeh lifted his right hand high in the starlight:
"Death to the Canienga! They have defiled Thendara. Spencer has said it.They have spat upon the Fire at the Wood's Edge. They have hewn down theGreat Tree
. They have uncovered the war-axe which lay deep buried underthe roots.
"Death to the Canienga!"
I turned to Thiohero: "O River-reed, my little sister! Oyaneh! Is ittrue that your great chief, Skenandoa, has put on red paint?"
She said calmly: "It is true, my brother. Skenandoa has painted himselfin red. And when your General Herkimer rides into battle, on his righthand rides Skenandoa; and on his left hand rides Thomas Spencer, theOneida interpreter!"[11]
[Footnote 11: This was a true prophecy for it happened later atOriskany.]
Tahioni said solemnly: "And before them rides the Holder of Heaven. WeOneidas can not doubt it. Is it true, my sister?"
The girl answered: "The Holder of Heaven has flung a red wampum beltbetween Oneida and Canienga! Five more red belts remain in his hand.They are so brightly red that even the Senecas can see the colour ofthese belts from the Western Gate of the Long House."
There was a silence; then I chose De Luysnes and Kwiyeh to relieve oursentinels, and went north with them along the starlit trail.
When I returned with Hanoteh and Godfrey Shew, the Oneidas were stillsitting up in their blankets, and the Frenchmen lay on theirs, listeningto Nick, who had pulled his fife from his hunting shirt and was trillingthe air of the Little Red Foot while Joe de Golyer sang the words of theendless and dreary ballad--old-time verses, concerning bloody deeds ofthe Shawanese, Western Lenape, and French in '56, when blood ran fromevery creek and man, woman and child went down to death fighting.
I hated the words, but the song had ever haunted me with its quaint andsad refrain:
"Lord Loudon he weareth a fine red coat, And red is his ladye's foot-mantelle; Red flyeth ye flagge from his pleasure-boat, And red is the wine he loves so well: But, oh! for the dead at Minden Town,-- Naked and bloody and black with soot, Where the Lenni-Lenape and the French came down To paint them all with the Little Red Foot!"
"For God's sake, quit thy piping, Nick," said I, "and let us sleep whilewe may, for we move again at dawn."
At which Nick obediently tucked away his fife, and de Golyer, who had athin voice like a tree-cat, held his songful tongue; and presently weall lay flat and rolled us in our blankets.
The night was still, save for a love-sick panther somewhere on themountain, a-caterwauling under the June stars. But the distant andmelancholy love-song and the golden melody of the stream pouring throughits bowlders blended not unpleasantly in my ears, and presentlyconspired to lull me into slumber.
* * * * *
The mountain peaks were red when I awoke and spoke aloud to rouse mypeople. One by one they sat up, owlish with sleep, yet soon clearingtheir eyes and minds with remembering the business that lay before us.
I sent Joe de Golyer and Tahioni to relieve our sentinels, Luysnes andthe Screech-owl.
When these came in with report that all was still as death on theIroquois trail, we ate breakfast and drank at the river, where someamong us also washed our bodies,--among others the River-reed, whostripped unabashed, innocent of any shame, and cleansed herselfknee-deep in a crystal green pool under the Indian willows.
When she came back, the disk of blue paint was gone from her brow, and Isaw her a-fishing in her beaded wallet and presently bring forth blueand red paint and a trader's mirror about two inches in diameter.
Then the little maid of Askalege sat down cross-legged and began topaint herself for battle.
At the root of her hair, where it made a point above her forehead, shepainted a little crescent moon in blue. And touched no more her face;but on her belly she made a blue picture of a heron--her clan being theHeron, which is an ensign unknown among Iroquois.
Now she took red paint, and upon her chest she made a tiny human foot.
I was surprised, for neither for war nor for any ceremony I ever heardof had I seen that dread symbol on any Indian.
The Oneidas, also, were looking at her in curiosity and astonishment,pausing in their own painting to discover what she was about.
Then, as it struck me, so, apparently, it came to them at the sameinstant what their sorceress meant,--what pledge to friend and foe alikethis tiny red foot embodied, shining above her breast. And the two youngwarriors who had painted the tortoise in blue upon their bellies, nowmade each a little red foot upon their chests.
"By gar!" exclaimed Silver, "ees it onlee ze gens-du-bois who shall madea boast to die fighting? Nom de dieu, non!" And he unrolled his blanketand pulled out a packet of red cloth and thread and needle--which islike a Frenchman, who lacks for nothing, even in the wilderness.
He made a pattern very deftly out of his cloth, using the keen point ofhis hunting knife; and, as we all, now, wished to sew a little red footupon the breasts of our buckskin shirts, and as he had cloth enough forall, and for Joe de Golyer, too, when we should come up with him, I andmy men were presently marked with the dread device, which was ourpledge and our defiance.
* * * * *
The sun had painted scarlet the lower Adirondack peaks when we startednorth on the Sacandaga trail.
When we came up with our sentinels, I gave Joe time to sew on hissymbol, and the Oneida time to paint it upon his person. Then weexamined flint and priming, tightened girth and cincture, tested knife,hatchet, and the stoppers of our powder horns; and I went from one toanother to inspect all, and to make my dispositions for the march to theBig Eddy on West River.
We marched in the following fashion: Tahioni and Nick as left flankers,two hundred yards in advance of us, and in sight of the trail. On theright flank, the Water-snake and Johnny Silver at the same intervals.
Then, on the trail itself, I leading, Luysnes next, then the River-reed.Then a hundred yards interval, and Joe de Golyer on the left rear,Kwiyeh on the right rear, and Godfrey on the trail.
"And," I said, "if you catch a roving Tree-eater, slay him not, butbring him to me, for if there be any of these wild rovers, theMontagnais, in our vicinity, they should know something of what is nowhappening in the Canadas, and they shall tell us what they know, or I'ma Tory! Forward! Our alarm signal is the long call-note of the Canadasparrow!"
The Little Red Foot Page 14