Later that afternoon the canoes drew in to a landing stage, inland from which was a large clearing in the forest. They had been sighted some way off by a look-out, and his horn blowing had brought scores of braves running from the Indian settlement. At the sight of Leaping Squirrel there were excited whoops of joy. In spite of his tattered garments he made a figure of great dignity as he stepped ashore, and was received by an elderly warrior wearing a mantle of wolf-skins and a head-dress from which rose buffalo horns.
For some moments Leaping Squirrel spoke in his own language to this dignitary, who then welcomed Roger and Mary in French-Canadian patois, and earnestly assured them that his whole tribe was their debtors for having saved the Chiefs son. An Indian carrying-chair, with a comfortable bark seat, was brought and Mary lifted into it; then, with the whole company chattering excitedly, they were escorted to the big village, which was hidden from the landing stage by a grove of chestnut trees, just showing their young green. Through them ran a narrow, twisting path, along which the company, led by Leaping Squirrel, wound its way in a single file.
Beyond the grove lay an open space some two acres in extent. The greater part of it was enclosed by a palisade of stakes, with bands of porcupine quills round them. Backing on to the palisade was a great circle of tepees and wigwams, the former round-roofed, the latter tent-shaped. In the centre of the enclosure there rose a carved and painted totem pole, twenty feet in height with, beside it, a much shorter, uncarved pole painted bright red. Beyond them was a habitation many times larger than any of the others, which Roger knew must be the Longhouse, in which the Chief lived and where councils were held when the weather was inclement.
Leaping Squirrel led his visitors to a tepee which had already been prepared for them. It contained no furniture, except for two big tubs full of fresh water for washing in. It was spotlessly clean and two thick piles of furs and blankets spread on the beaten earth floor promised to serve as comfortable beds. He said that after their fatiguing joumey they needed a few hours' rest, then he would present them to his father. Meanwhile, refreshments would be brought and Mary's ankle would receive attention.
A quarter of an hour after leaving them he returned with several young squaws, some carrying bowls of broth and others of rice mixed with deer meat; others brought flagons of Indian beer and spruce, with handleless cups to drink from. Both the bowls and cups were beautifully carved, and when Roger remarked on this, Leaping Squirrel said that his people were good carvers and spent much of their time in the winter making such articles, and animals or toys for their children, out of yellow pine, walnut and black cherry.
Roger also expressed surprise at there being rice with the deer meat, as he had seen none in New York or on their journey north. 'It is wild rice,' his host told him. 'It grows in the swamps on shores of the Great Lakes. Every season many squaws go there in canoe, gather armfuls of the rice and flail kernels into baskets.'
When the meal was finished and the things cleared away, Leaping Squirrel brought in two very old squaws, who removed the splint from Mary's ankle, carefully examined it, smeared it with a pungent grease, then re-bandaged it. With much salaaming they left the tepee, drawing the curtain of hides that served as the door. Then Roger and Mary dozed for two hours in the semi-darkness.
Twilight was falling when Leaping Squirrel came to them again, followed by two naked 'foreheads' with a carrying-chair, into which Mary was lifted. As they left the tepee, she and Roger saw that the great open space was now occupied by several hundred people.
Furthest from the centre there stood long lines of squaws wearing gaily-coloured blankets, and forehead bands of bright beads which kept in place their long, dark hair, parted in the centre and falling to the shoulders. Nearer in there squatted semi-circles of braves, dressed in a variety of fringed garments made from the skins of animals and decorated with tufts of bright feathers, bear claws, opossum and beaver tails. Some wore necklaces of shells, others of intricately-carved wooden beads or semiprecious stones. Their headbands were of painted leather, from the scalp lock of each dangled a single, scarlet feather, and their expressionless faces were daubed with circles and lines of red, yellow and black paint.
Facing them, in a single semi-circle, sat the elders of the tribe. Their garments were richer; ermine and sable, with belts of wampum, and they wore necklaces of stone beads as large as pigeon eggs. All of them, with one exception, wore head-dresses of eagle feathers reaching to their shoulders. The exception was Leaping Squirrel's father, Morning Star, who sat in the centre with his back to the totem pole. His head-dress fell on either side of his lined face, right to the ground, and his robe was made of supple skin, from which all the hair had been removed so that hieroglyphics representing his deeds of valour could be painted on it. He was wearing a number of medals presented to him by Governors of Canada for the assistance he had given the British. His leggings were of snake skin and he wore heavy bracelets and anklets of gold.
Although it was dusk, as Leaping Squirrel led Roger and Mary forward they were able to take in every detail of this colourful spectacle by the light of the flames from a big fire that blazed in the space between the braves and the elders. Within a few yards of his father, Leaping Squirrel halted and, speaking in his own tongue, began to address him in a loud voice that all could hear. His oration lasted a good twenty minutes. During that time the elders maintained a dignified silence but, now and then, the braves broke into whoops of applause; so it was obvious that he was describing how he had been captured by the Americans and saved from death by the Pale Faces whom he had brought back with him.
When he ended, the braves and elders all stood up. Morning Star stepped forward, placed one hand on Roger's shoulder and the other on Mary's head, and spoke in French-Canadian patois:
'Sagamore Morning Star speaks for all his people. To the noble ones now our guests we owe a debt that all the shells of the Quahagclam that we possess could not repay. As long as they live, anything they may ask of any member of our tribe shall be given to them, and given willingly. I, Morning Star, have spoken.'
The assembly gave a great shout of assent. Mary was then carried back to her tepee, accompanied by the two old squaws, while the Sagamore led the way to the Long-house, followed by Roger, Leaping Squirrel and the elders. Another big fire was blazing in front of it, throwing up the complicated patterns with which it was painted in red, blue and yellow. Inside, the greater part of it consisted of one big room, on the walls of which were many trophies of the chase; heads of bison, bear and lynx, old-fashioned British Tower muskets and horrifying masks worn by the medicine-men of the tribe for certain ceremonies.
When they had sat down, cross-legged, in a circle, a feast was served, everyone helping himself with his fingers from the many dishes. Roger enjoyed the fresh-caught salmon and a pigeon stuffed with sage. He also recognised the bear and deer meat, but other foods were strange to him. After trying the fungus fried in fish oil, he hastily helped himself to a cornmeal cake covered in honey. One ragout was pressed upon him as a great delicacy and he found it very tasty, but felt distinctly queasy when, having asked Leaping Squirrel what it was, he learned that it was stewed dog.
The feast over, the ceremonial pipe of peace was brought to the Sagamore. He lit it, drew on it, exhaled the smoke, then passed it to Roger, who did likewise, then passed it to Leaping Squirrel who was seated on his other side. Complete silence was maintained until the pipe had made the full circle, then it was emptied of its remaining tobacco and returned to the place where it had hung on the wall. As the slow, measured talk began again, nearly all the elders produced their own pipes and began to smoke. The bowls of the pipes—for which the Indian word was calumet—were beautifully-carved stone of many colours, their stems long tubes of wood. Later Roger learned that many of the younger braves who could not yet afford such valuable pieces used their tomahawks as pipes by hollowing out the handle of the weapon and grinding a bowl in the thick end of the axe.
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Although there were several round holes in the roof of the Longhouse to let out the smoke, so much of it lingered in the big room that Roger's eyes soon began to smart. After his long day he also felt very tired, but feared that it might be regarded as bad manners if he, as the guest of honour, asked permission to leave the party. Fortunately, his drooping eyelids were noticed by Leaping Squirrel, who whispered to his father. The Sagamore at once stood up, and all the others followed suit. When Roger had expressed his thanks, his host touched him on the arm and wished him good rest. All the elders came forward in turn and did the same, then Leaping Squirrel took him to his' tepee where, in English fashion, they shook hands. Inside the tepee a single rush light was burning, and Mary, he was pleased to find, was fast asleep, with one of the squaws seated silently beside her. After whispering a few words, the old woman glided out, and ten minutes later, he too was fast asleep.
In the days that followed Roger learned a lot about Leaping Squirrel's people from him. In earlier times the eleven tribes of the Algonquin nation had lived further south, but they had been defeated in a great war with the Iroquois and driven north of the St. Lawrence and the Great Lakes. Having settled in Canada, they had become firmly attached to the French, but after their defeat the Algonquin had sided with the British against the Americans. Pointing to the red-painted post that stood near the totem pole, Leaping Squirrel had added, 'Whenever our tribes go to war with Americani, such posts are set up in all villages to show that we are allies of the Englesi.'
Leaping Squirrel also said that, although the Iroquois were now fighting for the Americans, they did so only from fear that, if they refused, they would be driven from their present settlements. When Europeans had first come to America, but for the help the Indians had given them it is doubtful if they would have survived; yet, again and again, their kindness had been repaid by treachery. As the numbers of American settlers increased, they had pushed further and further inland, driving the Indians before them, and depriving them of their hunting grounds. Many treaties had been made, and when an Indian Chief gave his word and a wampum belt, he regarded his promise as sacred. But the land hunger of the Americans had caused them to break treaty after treaty; so, from south to north, they were hated by every tribe.
Mary had to keep to her bed for her ankle to mend, but on some days Leaping Squirrel took Roger hunting. Outside the palisade there was a large area where various crops, including tobacco, were grown; but the patches were irregular, because the Indians could cut down trees but had no means of dragging out the stumps of big oaks, elms and sycamores. Here and there among the patches were small platforms raised a few feet from the ground. On asking their purpose, Roger was told that, when the crops ripened, either children or squaws who were too old for other work, sat on them as living scarecrows, to drive off the crows.
Beyond the cultivated area virgin forest stretched for miles, where game abounded and innumerable grouse and pigeons. Leaping Squirrel would not let Roger use a gun, as a single report scared the wild life for a long way round. Instead, he taught him to use a bow and arrows fletched with turkey feathers. Small game was also caught in snares made from grass and reeds. The forest alone would have provided ample food for the tribe, but they also netted a variety of fish from the river, and it was so plentiful that they often deliberately caught more than they needed to eat, allowing the surplus to go bad so that it could be used as manure. Yet their staple dish was neither fish nor game. They seemed to prefer Scuccotash—a mixture of corn and beans cooked in meat broth.
Roger was surprised to find that couples did not live together. Early every summer there was a great ceremony. The young squaws were paraded, and the virtues of each in turn extolled by one of the old women. The girl was then chosen by one of the braves, who took her off into the forest. On their return she went back to the squaws' tepees and in due course had her child; but not until the child was a year old was the father, or any other man, allowed to take notice of her again. Even if the parents met on a narrow path she had to stand aside while he pretended that he had forgotten even her name.
A large part of the squaws' time was occupied in colleering birch bark, and they were often to be seen doing so with a young papoose strapped to a board on their backs. The bark was used to make canoes, tepees and wigwams, the latter having a framework of pine poles. The long, thin roots of tarmac trees were used to sew the strips of bark together, then the seams were waterproofed with the heavy resin from gum trees.
In the winter the squaws made leather sacks to hold corn, waterskins, clothes and fishing lines. Many of the young ones were good-looking; but, close to, they smelt unpleasantly of rancid grease, owing to their custom of plastering their hair, during the period when the moon was waxing, with the fat of animals whose virtues they wished to possess: a deer's for swiftness, a beaver's for industry, and an owl's to make them wise at night.
Apart from this unpleasant habit of smearing grease on their hair, Roger found the Indians surprisingly clean. Both the men and women bathed regularly in the river, rubbing their bodies with a type of fern that made a soapy lather. At times they also took sauna baths in tepees set apart, where they turned water into steam by pouring it over heated stones. Instead of shaving, the men plucked the hairs from their faces with bone tweezers, and without even wincing, for it was part of a brave's training to show no evidence of feeling pain.
To qualify for the red feather, they went through hideous ordeals. Leaping Squirrel had held a red-hot stone under his armpit for ten minutes, without flinching. Until well into middle age, they kept themselves extraordinarily supple and muscular by constant exercise. Their favourite game was lacrosse, played so ferociously with wooden clubs and a stuffed deerskin ball, that broken heads were not uncommon.
At their first meeting, Morning Star had asked Roger his intentions, and he had replied that, as soon as Mary's ankle was strong enough, they wanted to go to Montreal. The old squaws had had long experience in healing broken limbs, and on the ninth day after her arrival they declared her fit to travel. It was then arranged that on the following morning everything should be made ready for their departure, and that Leaping Squirrel would accompany them.
After the evening meal that day, which Roger always ate in the Longhouse with Morning Star and the elders, the Sagamore dismissed his subordinates, saying that he wished to talk alone with Roger.
When they had smoked in silence for a few minutes, the old man said, 'Morning Star owes the life of his beloved son, Leaping Squirrel, to the noble one, and wishes to pay this debt.'
Roger bowed. 'Sir, Leaping Squirrel saved the lives of my squaw and myself by getting us safely across the rapids, so there is no debt to repay.'
'There is a difference. Comrades always help one another to overcome danger from the harsh aspects of nature. From the malice of man it is not normal for Pale Faces to give a red man unknown to them their protection.'
'It was Leaping Squirrel's declaring himself to be a Christian that enabled me to save him.'
'The Great Spirit counselled Morning Star wisely in sending Leaping Squirrel to gain knowledge of the ways of the Pale Faces at the Mission. My thought was not that he should be converted, but when he becomes Sagamore be more able in negotiating with the Chiefs of the Pale Faces. But it is possible to pay homage to new gods while retaining the beliefs of one's ancestors. That is so with Leaping Squirrel.'
Roger nodded. 'I understand that. I have travelled much and come to realise that God may be worshipped with many different ceremonies and under different names/
'The noble one speaks as Morning Star expected; for at first sight he recognised him to be a Twice-Born. During many lives he has sought the help of the Great Spirit through a great diversity of forms. Is the noble one yet capable of leaving his body at will ?'
'No; but when in the East I met a number of saintly men whom I believed to be capable of doing so.'
'Morning Star is blessed by having advanced to that state
. Out of his body he has travelled far and wide. He has observed in their own country the black faces such as are brought to slave in the cotton fields of the Americani; the yellow men who live across the great waters beyond the setting sun, and the Pale Faces in their vast tepees made from baked earth and stone, forming villages compared to which Montreal is no
more than a few wigwams.'
With intense interest, Roger enquired, 'What opinion, Sir, did you form of the way of life of these distant peoples?'
'Among the black faces there is much ignorance and cruelty, among the yellow men much wisdom but also cruelty. Yet there is more misery among the Pale Faces than there is among any other people, and in time they will destroy themselves.'
Greatly surprised, Roger asked, 'Why, Sir, should you think that? The civilisation of Europe is far in advance of any other. We have learned how to harness the forces of nature, so that we can manufacture innumerable useful articles in great quantities, with far less toil than the more primitive races.'
'That is the seed of your future destruction. Whole tribes of your people spend their lives delving in darkness far underground. Others labour from childhood to old age in tepees fifty times the size of this Longhouse. In them they work streaming with sweat as they feed roaring fires, deafened by the thunder of machines, rendered breathless by steam hissing from huge iron cauldrons and poisoned by noxious fumes. It is too late for them to stop. They must go on until all your people, but for a very few, are forced to become machines themselves. They will build more and more of those great tepees until you have no forests, no open country left. Their bodies will deteriorate from lack of sunshine, of clean air, or healthy exercise. How much better is our way of life: to cultivate the land and enjoy its produce, to hunt in the forests and fish in the rivers, to fashion our simple requirements by hand, and dance and feast here round our totem poles.'
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