CHAPTER XIII.
THE VOICE OF THE GREAT MOUNTAIN.
There was no lack of interest now in the council. The weariness leftthe maid's eyes as she followed the speeches that came in rapidsuccession. There was still the disagreement, the confusion of a dozendifferent views and demands; but the speech of the Long Arrow hadpointed the discussion, it had set up an opinion to be either defendedor attacked.
"Will the Big Throat speak now?" asked Mademoiselle, leaning close toMenard.
"I hardly think so. I don't know what will come next."
"When will you speak, M'sieu?"
"Not until word from the Big Throat. It would be a breach ofcourtesy."
One warrior, a member of the Beaver family, and probably a bloodrelative of the Beaver who had been killed in the fight of themorning, took advantage of the pause to speak savagely for war andvengeance. He counted those who had fallen since the sun rose, andappealed to their families to destroy the man who had killed them. Hewas not a chief, but his fiery speech aroused a murmur of approvalfrom scattered groups of the spectators. This sympathy from thoseabout him, with the anger which was steadily fed by his own hot words,gradually drove from his mind the observance of etiquette which was solarge a part of an important council. Still speaking, he left hisplace, and walking slowly between two of the fires and across thecircle, paused before Menard.
"The dog whom we fed and grew has turned against its masters, as thedogs of your own lodges, my brothers, will bite the hand that patstheir heads. It has hung about outside of the Great Lodge to kill thehunter who sees no danger ahead. And now, when this dog is caught, andtied at your door, would not my brothers bring him to the end of allevil beasts?" As he finished, he made a gesture of bitter contempt andkicked Menard.
A shout went up, and voices clamoured, protesting, denouncing,exulting. The Captain's eyes flashed fire. It was not for a secondthat he hesitated. Weakness, to an Indian, is the last, the greatestfault. If he should take this insult, it would end forever not onlyhis own chance of escape, with the maid and the priest, but all hopeof safety for the Governor's column. He sprang to his feet before theIndian, whose arm was still stretched out in the gesture, and with twoquick blows knocked him clear of his feet, and then kicked him intothe fire.
A dozen hands dragged the warrior from the fire and stamped out ablaze that had started in the fringe of one legging. Every man in thehouse was on his feet, shouting and screaming. Menard stood with hishands at his side, smiling, with the same look of scorn he had worn inthe morning when they led him to the torture. Father Claude drewcloser to the maid, and the two sat without moving. Then above theuproar rose the voice of the Big Throat; and slowly the noise diedaway. The chief stepped to the centre of the circle, but before hecould speak Menard had reached his side, and motioned to him to besilent.
"My brothers," he said, looking straight at the fallen warrior, whowas scrambling to his feet,--"my brothers, the Big Buffalo is sorrythat the Onondagas have among them a fool who thinks himself awarrior. The Big Buffalo is not here to fight fools. He is here totalk to chiefs. He is glad that the fool speaks only for himself andnot for the brave men of the Long House." He walked deliberately backand resumed his seat by the maid.
"Menard stood ... smiling with the same look of scorn hehad worn ... when they led him to the torture."]
"Courage, Mademoiselle," he said close to her ear. "It is all right."
"What will they do, M'sieu?"
"Nothing. I have won. Wait--the Big Throat is speaking."
One by one the warriors fell back to their seats. Some were muttering,some were smiling; but all were subdued. The Big Throat's voice wascalm and firm.
"The Big Buffalo has spoken well. The word of a fool is not the wordof the Long House. The White Chief comes to give us the voice ofOnontio, and we will listen."
He turned toward Menard, and then resumed his seat.
The Captain rose, and looked about the circle. The chiefs weremotionless. Even the Long Arrow, now that his outburst was past,closed his lips over the stem of his pipe and gazed at the smoke.Father Claude drew forward the bundle and opened it, the maid helping.Some of the boys behind them crowded closer to see the presents.
Menard spoke slowly and quietly. The rustling and whispering in theouter circle died away, so that every word was distinct.
"When the Five Nations have given their word to another nation, it hasnot been necessary to sign a paper; it has not been necessary to keepa record. The Long Arrow has said that the Iroquois do not forget. Heis right. The words that have gone out from the councils have neverbeen forgotten. I see here, in this council, the faces of warriors whohave grown old in serving their people, of chiefs who are bent andwrinkled with the cares of many generations. I see in the eyes of mybrothers that they have not forgotten the Onontio, who went away tohis greater chief only five seasons ago. They have seen this Onontioin war and peace. They have listened to his silver tongue in thecouncil. They have called themselves his children, and have known thathe was a wise and kind father. They remember the promises they madehim. But the Senecas did not remember. The Seneca has no ears; he hasa hole in his head, and the words of his father have passed through.The Senecas promised Onontio that they would not take the white man'sbeaver. But when the English came to their lodges and whispered intheir ears, the hole was stopped. The English whispered of brandy andguns and powder and hatchets and knives. They told the Senecas thatthese things should be given to them if they would steal the beaver.The English are cowards--they sent the Senecas to do what they wereafraid to do. And then the hole in the Seneca's head was stopped--theSeneca who had forgotten the words of Onontio remembered the words ofthe English.
"My brothers of the Long House had not forgotten the promises they hadgiven Onontio. When the Seneca chiefs called for aid in stealing thebeaver, my brothers were wise and said no. The Onondagas and Cayugasand Oneidas and Mohawks were loyal--they kept their promise, andOnontio has not forgotten; he will not forget.
"This is what the Great Mountain would say to you, my brothers: Youhave been faithful to your word, and he is pleased. He knows that theOnondagas are his children. And he knows why the Senecas left theirvillages and fields to plunder his white children. It was for theskins of the beaver, which the white braves had taken from their ownforests and would bring in their canoes down the Ottawa to trade atthe white man's villages. He knows, my brothers, that the Senecas hadtired of their promises, and now would steal the beaver and sell it tothe English. What comes to the boy when he climbs the tree to stealthe honey which the bees have gathered and taken to their home? Is henot stung and bitten until he cries that he will not disturb the beesagain? The Senecas have tried to take that which is to the white manas the honey is to the bee; and they too must be stung and bittenuntil they have learned that the Great Mountain will always protectthose who deserve his aid. He has sent you a comb from the shell ofthe great sea-tortoise, more precious than a thousand wampum shells,to tell you that as the sea-monster pursues its enemies, so will hepursue those who cannot keep their promises--who lie to him."
Father Claude handed him the comb, and he laid it before the BigThroat. It was evident that he had been closely followed, and hestarted on his second word with more vigour.
"Your chiefs have spoken to-day of the storm cloud that has swept downfrom the north; your runners have told you that it is not a cloud, butan army, that has come up the great river and across the lake ofFrontenac to the country of the Senecas. Do my brothers know what agreat army follows their White Father when he sets out to punish hischildren? More than twenty score of trained warriors are in this warparty, and every warrior carries a musket; to-night they are marchingon the Seneca villages. They will destroy those villages as a bravewould destroy a nest of hornets in his lodge. Not one lodge will beleft standing, not one stalk of corn.
"The Oneidas and Onondagas and Cayugas talk of their cornfields. Buteven the Cayugas need have no fear. For Onontio is a wise and justfather; he pun
ishes only those that offend him. The Senecas havebroken their promises, and the Senecas must be punished, but the othernations are still the children of the Great Mountain, and his hand isover them. The Big Buffalo has come from the Great Mountain to tellyou that he will not harm the Cayugas; their fields and lodges aresafe."
There was a stir at this, and then quiet, as the spectators settledback to hear the rest of Menard's speech. Here was a captive who spokeas boldly as their own chiefs, who commanded their attention as apresent bearer from the White Chief. And they knew, all of them, fromthe way in which he was choosing his words, coolly ignoring the moreimportant subjects until he should be ready to deal with them, that hespoke with authority. He knew his auditors, and he let them see thathe knew them.
"The Senecas have listened to the English. What do they expect fromthem? Do they think that the English wish to help them? Do they lookfor wealth and support from the English? My brothers of the Long Houseknow better. They have seen the English hide from the anger of theGreat Mountain. They have seen the iron hand of New France reach outacross the northern country, and along the shores of the great lakes,and down the Father of Waters in the far west, while the English wereclinging to their little strip of land on the edge of the sea. Mybrothers know who is strong and who is weak. Never have the fields ofthe Five Nations been so rich and so large. No wars have disturbedthem. They have grown and prospered. Do the Senecas think it is theEnglish who have made them great? No--the Senecas are not fools. Theyknow that the Great Mountain has driven away their enemies and giventhem peace and plenty. My brothers of the Long House remembered thiswhen the Senecas came to them and asked for aid in stealing thebeaver. They stopped their ears; they knew that Onontio was theirfather, and that they must be faithful to him if they wished to haveplenty in their lodges.
"Onontio is a patient father. Let the Senecas repent, and he willforgive them. Let them bury the hatchet, and he will forgive them. Letthem be satisfied with peace and honest trade, and he will buy theirfurs, and give them fair payment. And then their cornfields shall growso large that a fleet runner cannot pass around them in half a moon.They shall have no more famine. Their pouches shall be full of powder,their muskets new and bright. Their women shall have warm clothing andmany beads. Nowhere shall there be such prosperous nations as hereamong the Iroquois. If the Senecas have broken their pledges and havenot repented, they must be punished. But the Cayugas and Onondagas andOneidas and Mohawks have not broken their pledges. The Great Mountainhas sent the Big Buffalo to tell them that he has seen that they areloyal, and he is pleased. He knows that they are wise. If theOnondagas have a grievance, he will not forget it, and if they ask forvengeance he will hear them. The Great Mountain knows that theOnondagas are his children, that they will not make war upon theirfather. He sends this coat of seal fur that the hearts of the Cayugasand Onondagas and Oneidas and Mohawks may be kept warm, and to tellthem that he loves them and will protect them."
The maid's eyes sparkled with excitement.
"I wish they would speak, or laugh, or do something," she whispered toFather Claude, "Are they not interested? They hardly seem to hearhim."
The priest looked at her gravely.
"Yes," he replied, "they are listening."
The time had come to speak of La Grange. The Captain had been steadilyleading up to this moment. He had tried to show the Indians that theyhad no complaint, no cause for war, unless it was the one incident atFort Frontenac. He knew that the chiefs not only understood hisargument, but that they were quietly waiting for him to approach thisreal cause of trouble, and were probably curious to see how he wouldmeet it. The mind of the Iroquois, when in the council, separated fromthe heat and emotion of the dance, the hunt, the war-path, wasremarkably keen. Menard felt sure that if he could present his caselogically and firmly, it would appeal to most of the chief and olderwarriors. Then the maid came into his thoughts, and he knew, though hedid not look down, that she was gazing up at him and waiting. Hehesitated for a moment longer. The chiefs, too, were waiting. The LongHouse was hushed:--three hundred faces were looking at him through thetwisting, curling smoke that blurred the scene into an unreal picture.Yes, the time had come to speak of La Grange; and he spoke the firstwords hurriedly, stepping half-unconsciously farther from the maid.
There was a part of the true story of the capture which he did nottell,--the Governor's part. For the rest, it was all there, every wordabout La Grange and his treacherous act coming out almost brutally.
"Your speakers have told you of the hunting party that was taken intothe stone house, and put into chains, and sent away to be slaves tothe Chief-Across-the-Water. There is a chief at the stone house whomyou have seen fighting bravely in many a battle. He is a bold warrior;none is so quick or so tireless as Captain la Grange. But he has adevil in his heart. The bad medicine of white man and redman, thefire-water, is always close to him, ready to whisper to him and guidehim. It was not the father at Quebec that broke the faith with theOnondagas. It was not the Big Buffalo. If the Big Buffalo could soforget his brothers of the Onondaga lodges, he would not have comeback to the Long House to tell them of the sorrow of the GreatMountain. My brothers have seen the Big Buffalo in war and peace--theyknow that he would not do this.
"The devil was in Captain la Grange's heart. He captured my brothers.He told the Great Mountain that it was a war party, that he had takenthem prisoners fairly. He lied to the Great Mountain. When the GreatMountain asked the Big Buffalo to bring the prisoners to his greatvillage on the river, the Big Buffalo could not say, 'No, I am nolonger your son!' When the Great Mountain commands, the Big Buffaloobeys. With sorrow in his heart he did as his father told him."
Menard was struggling to put the maid out of his thoughts, to keep inview only the safety of the column and the welfare of New France. Andas the words came rapidly to his lips and fell upon the ears of thatsilent audience, he began to feel that they believed him.
"My brothers," he said, with more feeling than they knew, "it is fiveseasons since I left your village for the land of the white man. Inthat time you have had no thought that I was not indeed your brother,the son of your chief. You have known other Frenchmen. Father Claude,who sits by my side; Father Jean de Lamberville, who has given hismany years to save you for the great white man's Manitou; Majord'Orvilliers, who has never failed to give food and shelter to thestarving hunter at his great stone house,--I could name a hundredothers. You know that these are honest, that what they promise will bedone. But in every village is a fool, in every family is one who isweak and cannot earn a name on the hunt. You have a warrior in thishouse who to-day raised his hand against a visitor in the greatcouncil. My brothers,--it is with sadness that I say it,--not all thewhite men are true warriors. You are wise chiefs and brave warriors;you know that because one man is a dog, it is not so with all hisnation. The Great Mountain sends me to you, and I speak in his voice.I tell you that Captain la Grange is a dog, that he has broken thefaith of the white man and the redman, that the father at Quebec andthe Great-Chief-Across-the-Water, who are so quick to punish their redchildren, will also punish the white. The white men are good. Theylove the Onondagas. And if any white man breaks the faith, he shall bepunished."
His voice had risen, and he was speaking in a glow that seemed to dropa spark into each listening heart. He knew now that they believed. Heturned abruptly for the present. Father Claude was so absorbed infollowing the speech, and in watching the maid, who sat with flushedcheeks and lowered eyes, that he was not ready, and Menard stooped andtook the book. He could not avoid seeing the maid, when he lookeddown; and the priest felt a sudden pain in his own heart to see thelook of utter weariness that came into the Captain's eyes.
Menard turned the leaves of the book for a moment, as if to collecthimself, and then held it open so that the Indians could see thebright pictures. There was a craning of necks in the outer circles.
"In these picture writings is told the story of the 'Ceremonies of theMass applied to the Passion of
Our Lord,'" he said slowly. "And ourLord is your Great Spirit. It brings you a message; it tells you thatthe white man is a good man, who punishes his own son as sternly ashis red child."
The present pleased the Big Throat. He would not let his curiosityappear in the council, but he dropped the book so that it fell open,seemingly by accident, and his eyes strayed to it now and then duringthe last word of the speech. Menard did not hesitate again.
"I have told my Onondaga brothers that this white dog shall bepunished," he said. "When this word is given in your council in thevoice of Onontio, it is a word that cannot be broken. Wind is notstrong enough, thunder is not loud enough, waves are not fierceenough, snows are not cold enough, powder is not swift enough to breakit." The words came swiftly from his lips. Calm old chiefs leanedforward that they might catch every syllable. Eyes were brighter withinterest. The Long Arrow, thinking of his son and fearing lest the manwho killed him should slip from his grasp, grew troubled and morestern. At last Menard turned, and taking the portrait from thepriest's hands held it up, slowly turning it so that all could see itin the uncertain firelight. At first they were puzzled and surprised;then a murmur of recognition ran from lip to lip.
"You know this maid," Menard was saying, "this maid who to all wholove the Iroquois, to all who love the church, the Great Spirit, is asaint. Her spirit has been for many moons in the happy hunting ground.The snow has lain cold and heavy on her grave. The night bird has sungher beauty in the empty forest. Catherine Outasoren has come back fromthe land where the corn is always growing, where the snows can neverfall; she has come back to bear you the word of the Great Mountain.She has come to tell you that the dog who broke the oath of the whiteman to the Onondagas must suffer. This is the pledge of the GreatMountain."
He stopped abruptly, and stood looking with flashing eyes at thecircle of chiefs. There was silence for a moment, then a murmur thatrapidly rose and swelled into the loud chatter of many voices. Menardlaid the portrait at the feet of the Big Throat, and took his seat atthe side of the maid,--but he did not look at her nor she at him.Father Claude sat patiently waiting.
There was low talk among the chiefs. Then a warrior came and led thecaptives out of doors, through a long passage that opened between tworows of crowding Indians. The night was clear, and the air was sweetto their nostrils. They walked slowly down the path. A group of youngbraves kept within a few rods.
"It must be late," said Menard, in a weak effort to break thesilence.
"Yes," replied Father Claude.
"I suppose we had better go back to our hut?"
"Yes," said the priest again. But the maid was silent.
They sat on the grass plot before the door, none of them having anywords that fitted the moment. Menard brought out a blanket and spreadit on the ground, that the maid need not touch the dew-laden grass.
The Road to Frontenac Page 13