Part 4

Sympathy was pictured in most of the faces of those dark warriors, when passing the Great Oak's wigwam they beheld the moist eyes and tender leave-taking of that heroic old Chief and his motherless child, whose future depended so much on the coming contest, as following one after another they disappeared in the forest.

"The Gentle Fawn will stay in the shadow of her wigwam and work on her wampum." And the old Chief, whose words were law, also disappeared, following the narrow winding path, watched by the Fawn till the dense foliage hid him from her view. Without hearing the slightest noise the Fawn felt a hand upon her shoulder. Turning quickly, she beheld the pleasant face of Grey Eagle. Turning his hand in formal recognition, he addressed her:

"The Grey Eagle's eyes are very true, and his arms are very strong; shall he shut his eyes when he draws his bow?"

"May Grey Eagle's aim never be truer or his arm stronger than to-day." And love-light flashed from the soft eyes of the pretty Seneca maid.

"The Fawn has spoken well; Grey Eagle hears. When the wish-ton-wish sings his evening song Grey Eagle will be here again. The Fawn will welcome him."

The last of the warriors disappeared, followed by the old women and children, the latter with shouts and songs, going far towards the brow of the mountain, where evening would still find most of them gathering sticks and pine cones to light the evening fires.

About seven miles from the great cataract, towards the north, when following the river, is seen the famous Queenston Heights, where the force of waters has cut through solid rocks to a depth of about three hundred feet, and it is equaled in grandeur only by the cataract itself. This deep chasm in winding from the falls forms the great whirlpool--the terror of the poor aboriginals. From the brow of the mountain the most gorgeous landscape bursts upon the view.

A splendid picture, with the broad waters of Lake Ontario, forms a magnificent background. The mountain sides are broken by deep ravines and huge precipices rising to a great height. The scenery is wild beyond description. On the highest elevation of this rocky cliff, on the western shore, stands the Pillar of Brock, like a giant, guarding the borders of the Queen's Dominion.

Under the eye, at the foot of the mountain, nestles the pretty village of Lewiston. The banks of the river are lower and less rugged, and here commence the beautiful flats that reach to the shore of Ontario. The lake from this elevation is seen like a miniature ocean, spreading far and wide until clouds and water blend. On the left, the foaming, dashing river, passing furiously through the rocky gorge, here becomes quiet, winding its peaceful way through woods and meadows, its soft liquid blue dividing the Dominion from the United States, and gradually widening until its waters mingle with Ontario. There, standing opposite, and frowning upon each other, are the forts Niagara and Massussauga, where successively have contended French, English and Americans. Four villages appear within this view, on either side of the river, with their tall church spires, from which sweet, melancholy notes come floating on the air, tranquilizing the senses with the beautiful scene, interspersed by meadows and grain fields, thickly dotted with cottages, surrounded and half hidden among orchards and lovely gardens, disclosing hundreds of happy homes; while from this elevation deep repose gives softness to the whole picture. The same beautiful river and lake and rock-bound mountain surrounded the Indian's favorite hunting-ground; but a dense forest, divided by marshy creeks, protected their game and sheltered themselves.

Thus secluded, hundreds of wild songsters filled the air with music, while the melancholy notes of the wish-ton-wish's evening song traditionally had power to sooth their savage natures. This sweet, pensive scenery, decked with summer's lovely green or autumn's wampum dyes, with morning's glittering dews or evening's fire-flies' transient gleams, illuminating the darkest places; the distant murmur of the waterfall, the sympathetic cooing of the wild ducks, the cedar-scented air, all tended to thrill the Indian bosom with sensations not less melancholy, not less pleasing, than the present unsurpassed and magnificent view charms all beholders.

Seldom so many warriors met at one time on these quiet flats, and never contested champions more earnestly than did Black Snake and Grey Eagle on that day for the two prizes in one; never were spectators more enthusiastic. Their triumphant whoops echoed along the river banks and their joyous applause animated the fatigued warriors, while side combatants of various ages fought their mimic battles, blending the whole in a scene of wild excitement and confusion. Grey Eagle was an expert archer, but he had found his equal; hence the conflict was so long, and had, from its even tenor, become so engrossing. One instant's hesitation would probably decide the contest with critics so quick to perceive with both eye and ear the least deviation from their standard customs. After passing successively through the exercise of war-clubs, spears and tomahawks, to the bow and arrow was left the decision. Again preparing for the contest after their own fashion, omitting no caution or form, the combatants brought all their warrior skill into requisition. Challenge after challenge was given and taken with equal confidence. The impression on the warrior spectators was exciting; admiration of such unexampled dexterity gradually increased, finally swelling into sounds that denoted lively opposition in sentiment, when suddenly, with an ominous flourish of his bow, as it fell at the feet of Great Oak, Black Snake with a single bound stood in front of the Chiefs. This unexpected movement produced attention and silence while he spoke:

"Black Snake sends a true arrow, but the Manitou guided Grey Eagle's. The Manitou whispered truths in the ear of Great Oak and defeated the evil spirit. The Manitou says to War Eagle: 'I send a warrior to your people to fill your place, and Grey Eagle, the chosen of the Manitou, will be a great warrior.'"

All of Black Snake's former pride and exultation seemed supplanted by humility. Not the least demonstration of jealousy or revenge, was to be traced in his artful face, while he continued:

"Grey Eagle will lead the young braves on the warpath. Let our father send an offering to the Manitou, that he may drive the evil spirit away from Black Snake, and he will be Grey Eagle's brother and fight by his side. Black Snake's arrows are true, and the cries of our enemies will fill the forest, while every squaw can deck her lodge with scalps."

With an appealing glance at the circle of Chiefs, Black Snake modestly retired and they held their talk.

According to their customs, captives were either adopted by the captors and enjoyed all of the rights and privileges of the tribe and confederacy, or sentenced to death, attended by all of the horrors of savage torture. If adopted, the nation knew no difference between her own or adopted children. In the former council by the falling waters the Chiefs had concluded to adopt Grey Eagle and his braves; therefore the women had an undisputed right to select him as one of the candidates for War Eagle's successor, which nomination was ratified by the Chiefs. The women being undecided between the rival candidates, left the final decision as before mentioned, to skill or chance. It was more through chance than skill that Grey Eagle won, for both were well-drilled, powerful warriors. But he had fairly won the two prizes, and the conclusion the Chiefs came to was this:

Their great Manitou had evidently sent him to them for some wise purpose. A human sacrifice must be made, as had long been their custom, for the Manitou's good gifts and to redeem Black Snake from the power of the evil one, this sacrifice must be made while the moon was the brightest, which was the present time. It was that the bright light might more fully reveal the brilliant path of the just. As those sent as an offering to the Manitou would go direct to the happy home above, freed from all trouble forever, when the selection was once made they would become reconciled, and make themselves believe it a great favor bestowed and cause of rejoicing. The subject for the sacrifice was most frequently selected by lot from a few the Chiefs would name; but this time it was Black Snake's privilege to make the selection and arrangements, as he was next to Grey Eagle as a warrior, and then the sacrificed spirit was especially to atone to the offended Manitott for Black Snake's rashness while under the influence of the evil spirit. At a signal for silence from Great Oak he made known these conclusions, and Black Snake again came forward, and, with a great deal of self-depreciation, expressed his wishes as follows:

"After the calumet with the soothing kinny-kinnick shall refresh each Chief, while its light curling clouds bear their good resolutions on high, let Great Oak and Grey Eagle be first on the backward trail; rising the big stony hill, still keeping the trail, without entering any lodge, the first one their eyes rest upon--be it one of the men, one of the women, or one of the children--will be the one the Manitou wants. Let the Manitou make his own selection: Black Snake is not worthy."

During the delivery of this speech; his swarthy countenance kindled with a satisfied expression well calculated to conceal the dark malicious plans that struggled in his breast. His very nostrils appeared to dilate with hidden exultation.

Hurriedly passing the calumet, soon a light, fragrant cloud from the sweet-scented kinny-kinnick rose on the air like evening incense, making valid and unchangeable each resolve that tribunal of Chiefs had passed.

While they were yet smoking, Black Snake, recovering his bow and arrow, called for some young braves who could track the deer and help carry the venison back to their lodges, as a feast and dance accompanied each council. The chiefs would smoke in the shade until the fiery eye of the Manitou, satisfied with the purposes and promises of His simple-hearted children, would fall asleep beyond the waters of Ontario, where already the last rays were beginning to color clouds and waves, till lake and sky seemed a bright vision of the promised land the doomed one must soon enter.

"The hunters will be back here before the wish-ton-wish sings, if the chiefs are gone the hunters will follow," said Black Snake, as himself and about twenty dusky boys, flourishing their bows and arrows, leaped along the skirt of the forest and soon disappeared. They wound their way towards the east, where the deer frequented a marshy tract of land, Black Snake now assuming all the superiority of a chief and leader, his boasting, haughty manner returning, as he related what great deeds he could do, and his name would make his enemies tremble. Having excited sufficient awe and veneration among those artless Indian boys, he pointed to fresh tracks, and waving his hand to the north, said:

"The deer have gone to the clear water to drink; the young-brave who kills the first deer shall follow in the steps of Black Snake on the war-path. Black Snake will go prepare for the feast and dance, and the evening fire for the great chiefs; the young braves follow with their venison the back trail; they will not go before the old chiefs."

This sudden and unexpected announcement was received with a joyous shout by the aspiring young braves, who, thus stimulated, quickly disappeared, leaving Black Snake alone.

A hasty glance at the sky showed him the Manitou's eye had moved but little since he left the chiefs, and had some ways yet to travel before disappearing for the night, and his satisfied look said, "'Tis well," for Black Snake had much to do and much to bring about before the fiery eye would again throw his searching rays upon this wild and wayward child of the forest.

A fierce and fixed expression settled on his swarthy features, contradicting all that assumed humility while in the presence of the chiefs.

Following a direct path to the south-west, with his fast Indian lope, crossing the creeks on the well-known beaver bridges, nothing impeded his speed, and in an incredibly short time he found himself on the brow of the great stony hill, where his path soon struck the river trail, leaving the council of chiefs many miles behind him to the north. He gave a peculiar whoop, composed, of a quick succession of notes terminating in a prolonged sound, which made the forest ring till it died away in the distance, silencing terrified bird and squirrel and making the stillness that followed doubly still. Speeding on toward the lodge, as he neared the great water-fall, he again repeated the shrill call; this time faint answers reached him from different directions.

Then a sharp, solitary note, repeated at short intervals, and answered, in the same, manner, and with the exclamation "Hugh!" in a satisfied tone, the tired warrior seated himself for the first time since morning at the root of a large tree, holding his head in his dark sinewy hands, as if that was more weary even than his' over-exercised limbs. Soon there appeared several Indian boys and old women from different sides of the trail. He held a hasty confidential talk with them. That he did not truthfully explain anything, in fact, misrepresented the whole, was only too natural for Black Snake. But in his own way he revealed the final decision, making a double sacrifice of the human offering--both body and soul; he told them their spirits would be given to the evil one and sent to the turbulent waters, there to be whirled forever in sight of the bright path they never could follow.