The Trail of the Seneca Part 4

Very gravely Captain Pipe motioned to the white boy to be seated, and himself rising, spoke slowly and with much earnestness in English, which language he now used quite fluently.

At considerable length the Delaware chief reviewed the whole case which had been presented both by Ree and by Lone-Elk, the accuser. He criticised the "Paleface brother" for having failed to bring before the council the one who had been accused. He praised Ree, however, for the frank and open way in which he had laid his arguments before the Indians and for the friendliness he had shown the Delawares at all times.

About the boundary between the white nation and the Indian nations, Captain Pipe said it was true that a treaty had been made several years earlier by the white people and the Delaware, Chippewa and Wyandot nations (at Fort Industry, in 1785) in which it was agreed that the Indians would give up all claim to the land east of the Cuyahoga river, the portage path and the Tuscarawas river, or main branch of the Muskingum, as it was also called. He said further that this same treaty was renewed at a somewhat later time (at Fort Harmer, in 1789) when the Delawares, Wyandots, Chippewas, Sacs and Pottawatomies had made an agreement with the Palefaces.

That the treaties were not kept, Captain Pipe declared, was the fault of the white people because they were always encroaching upon the lands of the Indians and always seeking to drive them farther and farther to the west. He could not consider, he said, that the two young white settlers had any rights in the Ohio country except that which came to them by reason of their having traded goods for the certain small parcel of land they occupied. If they wished to hunt or fish on any other land excepting the few acres they owned, they did so only because the Indians permitted it. Therefore if any violation of Indian laws or customs was committed, they must answer to the Indians for the violation and not contend, as White Fox had done, that a trial by the people of their own color and laws was their right, because they did not actually live on Indian soil.

The agreement the council had reached in regard to the charge of witchcraft against him who was called "Little Paleface," Captain Pipe at last concluded, was that Lone-Elk and others should go forth to search for further evidence against the white boy. Further, it was agreed that the Delawares would grant the White Fox-meaning Ree-permission to try to show that Big Buffalo died from some cause other than witchcraft if he would give himself as a hostage for the delivery of Little Paleface into the hands of Lone-Elk, in case it was finally decided that witchcraft actually caused the death of the warrior whose voice was now silent.

The latter proposition came as a decided surprise to Kingdom. He had been prepared to hear the decision that Lone-Elk have the opportunity to produce evidence. He remembered vividly now the secret visit the Seneca had paid the clearing the night before. But he dared not speak of it. To do so would betray Fis.h.i.+ng Bird. And not knowing what Lone-Elk would "find" in the way of "evidence," Ree was much at a loss to answer when Captain Pipe, bidding him speak, sat down.

Like the ingenious Yankee boy that he was, Ree did not reply at once to the hostage part of the Delaware chief's proposal. Concerning the search for evidence, he could only say, he stated, that full permission was given the Indians to look in every nook and corner of the cabin by the river and in the clearing and the woods surrounding it, or wherever else they chose. If they found anything which could be taken to be evidence that John Jerome had aught to do with the death of Big Buffalo, it would be something which had been placed among their property by others; it would be "made to order" evidence, and therefore worth nothing to any fair minded member of the Delaware or any other nation.

Having spoken thus far, and thinking now of the offer that he give himself as a hostage, though he did not mention it, Ree asked of Captain Pipe and all the Indians present whether he was to consider them personally as friends or foes. He wanted to know whether he himself was to be free to come and go as in the past, or whether it was their intention to dispossess him of his land by practically driving him off of it.

"If you do this," said he, "in what way is it better than the treatment the Indians themselves complain of, that they are driven from their forests?"

The thought thus presented interested Captain Pipe a great deal and for a second or two he did not answer.

"The council is over. The Paleface brother knows its decision. It is not the custom to talk when the time for talking is past," he said at last.

"Yes, but am I to be molested? Am I to lie down at night knowing that to me, personally, at least, the Delawares are friends, or am I to watch lest as enemies they come to kill me?" Ree demanded.

"The Paleface brother gives himself not as a hostage. He has rejected the offer made him," Captain Pipe answered.

"I want only time to think about that," said Ree. "I will answer later."

The council was over but the Indians all remained silent, listening attentively to everything which was said. Inquiringly now they looked to their chief to know the white boy's fate. Most of them felt friendly toward him. But at the same time all, or nearly all, were growing daily more hostile to the whites in general.

"The White Fox may go. He is free and no Indian will disturb him; but he must come no more to the village of the Delawares if he comes not as a hostage. He must remain near his own lodge and if he goes from his own land he must go not far. He must carry no tales of what the Indians are doing to the forts or to the houses of the Paleface people. On the land that the Delawares sold to him the Paleface brother shall be as safe as the eagle in its nest upon the mountain tops."

"No other place, though," Lone-Elk grunted savagely and only half audibly.

Whether Captain Pipe heard him Ree did not know, for as the latter had ceased speaking he had dismissed the council with a wave of his hand, and now all the Indians were moving toward the open air, some quiet and thoughtful, some talking, some pus.h.i.+ng and hurrying, some inclined to linger.

Gentle Maiden was among the latter. She pa.s.sed very near Ree as she moved slowly out and, un.o.bserved by any save himself, gave the lad a glance which was most friendly, the only really friendly look he had received except from Fis.h.i.+ng Bird.

With an effort Kingdom suppressed a tear of bitterness and disappointment which, somehow, the friendly look from the Indian girl had brought to his eyes. He waited only until he could reach Captain Pipe and shake his hand to show the appreciation and respect which he felt were really due the chief, sadly misled by Lone-Elk though the proud Delaware was. Ree could not but notice Hopocon performed the friendly ceremony of shaking hands with far less of cordial warmth than usual.

"So much," he thought, "for the fact that Captain Pipe needs lead and that the Seneca knows where lead is."

But he said good-bye to those who were near, untied Phoebe and rode slowly away. The day was very near its close.

CHAPTER X-"MORE BULLETS, MORE LEAD."

Ree did not doubt that Lone-Elk, expecting that he and John would meet to talk over the events of the day and the outcome of the "talk," would either spy upon him as he made his way home, or keep watch of the clearing during the night.

The lad easily saw in the Seneca the influence which set Captain Pipe and many of the other Delawares against him and against John. He concluded, too, that so far as Lone-Elk was concerned, the accusation of witchcraft was but a means to an end.

He was certain that the Seneca had some evil purpose in view in causing the Delawares to believe the absurd things he told them. Or was it only to s.h.i.+eld himself from suspicion in connection with Big Buffalo's death that he had invented the witchcraft story? Was the Seneca, then, really the murderer of the Delaware warrior? If he were not, he must have some reason for turning the people of Captain Pipe's village against their white neighbors other than merely to avert suspicion from himself.

Often the worn and anxious boy recalled the warning Captain Pipe had given him to carry to the settlements no news of what the Indians were doing. Could it be that some attack upon Gen. Wayne's men was being planned and the Delawares, inspired by Lone-Elk, were afraid the white boys would hear of it and give the alarm? Or did Lone-Elk merely fear the Paleface pioneers would discover the secret lead mine which gave him his hold upon Captain Pipe? Maybe that keen old redskin himself feared the same thing and dreaded lest the white soldiers should invade the country to win possession of so rich a prize.

Ree wondered if he was right in any of these surmises, then it would seem that the wish of the Indians was to cause him and John to forsake their cabin and their clearing and be gone to return no more. On the other hand, after the warning he had received, it would be positively unsafe for him to travel far in the direction of Fort Pitt or the settlements, lest the redskins suspect him of going to betray some secret, and so make an end of him. What then could he do?

So, completely tired out after the past two anxious days and nights, Kingdom floundered more and more hopelessly in a sea of "ifs" and "but thens," and confused question marks, as he tried in vain to arrive at what would seem to him a correct summing up of the situation.

"It's just no use thinking any more about it," he declared to himself when half way home. But he added, "Not now, at least," as a second thought, for he well knew in what direction his mind would turn when he had rested and could reflect with more composure.

A half mile from the Delaware town Ree had let Phoebe gallop wherever the trail was open enough to make such speed possible, and he had a grim satisfaction in the belief that Lone-Elk was following him.

The Seneca was equal to such a task. Nothing tired him; no hards.h.i.+ps or labor were tod great for him to undertake when he had a point to gain. Kingdom knew this well. He saw in the hateful fellow a spirit which nothing could turn aside and a strength and cunning far superior to the same qualities in other Indians, though all were gifted in this way.

"I only hope he is following. If I could be sure of it and make him run his legs half off to keep up, only to disappoint him in the end, I'd gallop you every step, Phoebe, every last step," Ree told the sagacious mare, who was picking her steps with the utmost nicety.

And the fact was that the tenacious Seneca, thinking that Kingdom would surely go at once to his companion, was following the horse and rider at no great distance behind. He was afraid to go forward to the clearing, and spy upon the cabin from the edge of the woods lest Ree meet John at some appointed place along the trail. He thought with savage pleasure of the satisfaction he would have in dragging the Little Paleface before the a.s.sembled Delawares. With a sort of fierce happiness he antic.i.p.ated the pride and joy he would have in hanging the white boy's scalp above the door of his lodge where all might see.

Forced as he was to run at a good, round speed in order to keep the sound of the horse's hoofs within hearing, and being tired and in no pleasant frame of mind to begin with, Lone-Elk became furious as mile after mile he followed on and all to no purpose. His very scowl was frightful. Again and again was he tempted to overtake the young white man and vent his hatred in one safe, sure shot from behind.

Had the Seneca attempted to put this thought into execution, however, he would certainly have regretted it. Unknown to him, Fis.h.i.+ng Bird was also on the trail. Keenly as Lone-Elk followed the horse and rider, he in turn was spied upon by the Delaware who, for a favor done him long ago, was willing to risk his life for his Paleface friend.

As Kingdom reached the clearing and mounted the hill to the log house, Lone-Elk changed his course and traversed the edge of the woods to a point from which he could command a view of the cabin and the whole open s.p.a.ce about it. Fis.h.i.+ng Bird changed his course also. From behind a clump of hazel bushes he kept his eyes on the Seneca unceasingly.

Long after the firelight shone brightly from the door of the white boys' home, Lone-Elk, silent as the very tree trunk which screened him, watched and waited. Scarcely could Fis.h.i.+ng Bird see him, yet with equal patience, he also remained at his post.

Little guessing how closely his every movement was scrutinized by eyes in which there was not one gleam of kindness or of justice, Kingdom went about his evening work in the barn and house and prepared his lonely supper. One consoling thought, and only one, came to him. It was that he could consider himself safe for the present. He would have time to meet John when he returned, and then if they agreed that their only safety lay in deserting the cabin,-the cabin and all they had accomplished in the clearing,-they would do so. With a few hours' start they could, with their horses, leave any pursuing Indians well behind.

Still, Ree a.s.sured himself more than once flight would be the last thing he would recommend or think of. He declared it might be that Lone-Elk was more than a match for him, but the Seneca would have to prove it, and meanwhile the game he had commenced was one at which two could play.

Much thinking of all that had occurred and trying in vain to reason out the inward meaning of it all drove Kingdom to his bunk, completely worn out. With a determination, whose strength was one of his characteristics, he succeeded in putting his difficulties from him for the time, and soon soundly slept.

When the moon had risen, when the firelight in the cabin no longer brightly burned, when all the clearing was hushed and silent, Lone-Elk gave utterance to a contemptuous, disgusted "Ugh!"

Fis.h.i.+ng Bird, alert and faithful every moment, heard the sound and noted with exquisite satisfaction the disappointment and chagrin the Seneca's tone expressed. As Lone-Elk turned and moved stealthily, as his habit was, deeper into the woods, and in the direction of the Delaware town, he followed. Elation over the toppling of Lone-Elk's hopes after all the toil and trouble with which he had followed the Paleface youth filled his heart. Dejected and sour must the Seneca go back to the village again. The thought that he, also, must make the weary journey and that he, also, had had but his labor for his pains, did not come to him. His conscience commended him for what he had done and the hards.h.i.+p of it all was only play.

It happened, however, that the generous Fis.h.i.+ng Bird arrived at his conclusions quite too hastily. Satisfied that Lone-Elk was returning to the village, he gave little further heed to the Seneca's movements. Having allowed the latter a long start, he was content to go on slowly, taking pains only that he should not come upon the other unawares, or be likewise surprised himself.

When the morning broke on the village of the Delawares the Seneca was not there. Fis.h.i.+ng Bird was the first to observe his absence. He had been away from the time the council closed the day before, some of the young braves said. They feared Lone-Elk, but they also admired him for his strength and his knowledge, and being much given to watching all his movements, they had noticed his absence from the first.

Alarmed and much provoked with himself, the Indian friend of the two young white men spent an anxious day. He feared at any moment to see the Seneca come striding proudly among the lodges, as his custom was, dangling the scalp of Little Paleface in such a way that none would fail to see it. Again and again he was tempted to visit the cabin of the boys, but dreaded to do so lest his presence there be discovered and result in so much of suspicion being aroused that his usefulness in the lads' interests would be ended.

All day Fis.h.i.+ng Bird moved idly about or sat silently in his lodge, showing neither by word or look or action the anxiety he felt, though it increased more and more as the afternoon waned and Lone-Elk continued absent. But at last his long watch ended. Just at sunset the Seneca came wearily into the village. At his belt hung two pouches, both of which seemed heavy. One of them he gave to a group of squaws who were tending the boiling of a great pot of beans. It contained salt. The other he carried to Captain Pipe and without a word emptied its contents upon a bearskin at the chief's feet.

"More bullets!"

"More bullets, more lead, Chief Hopocon," the Seneca answered, using the Delaware's Indian name, "more lead for the brave warriors of the Delawares."

CHAPTER XI-THE HIDDEN TOMAHAWK

A most uncomfortable feeling of horror and astonishment held John Jerome speechless and motionless as he looked on the appalling scene which his moving of the brush heap had revealed. For the time all his senses seemed to desert him and, acting on an impulse of utter dismay, he hastily drew the bulk of the brush pile over the bodies again and hurried away.

As if he would find a refuge there, John hastened to the rude shelter where he had spent the night and where a few coals, still bright and warm, seemed to radiate a protecting air about the lonely spot.

All thoughts and actions are influenced more or less by one's surroundings, and being in the presence of that which suggested comfort and tranquillity, the startled boy was able presently to regain his composure somewhat. But if ever John desired the company of Ree Kingdom, and felt the need of his aid and counsel, he did now.

If only his own inclinations were to have been consulted, Jerome would have set out for home at as lively a pace as possible. Only the thought of the questions Ree would ask, and which he would be unable to answer, stood in his way. He could easily a.s.sure himself that, so far as his own curiosity was concerned, he had no wish to look again upon the awful objects the brush covered. Yet it would not do to go back to Kingdom with practically no definite information.

Mustering all the resolution he could, therefore, John returned to the dreadful spot, walking with great caution and with many anxious glances in all directions. He knew that the two bodies must have been placed where he had found them at least two or three days earlier, yet he was haunted by the feeling that the murderers were hiding close by. He rather expected, indeed, that the next moment they would jump out and seize him.

In this state of mind it required all the courage he could command to take hold of the lower portions of the matted ma.s.s of brush and drag the whole heap to one side; but he did it, and quickly then, lest his nerve fail him before the task was done, he examined both the corpses.

One was that of a man of about thirty years, dressed in homespun clothes and having in general appearance the unmistakable marks of the frontier about him. The hair was red and the face and hands showed many freckles despite the discoloration which had taken place.

The other body had been in life a robust giant of a fellow, perhaps twenty-two years old, with long, thick black hair, and a short, stubby growth of beard upon his face. The finer texture of the clothing and the style of the garments denoted a man from the east, one who was not ordinarily a hunter or a woodsman.

Both men had been shot-one from the side, for the bullet had entered his temple; the other undoubtedly from behind. The wound was hardly noticeable but the bullet had seemingly shattered the spinal column.

No valuables, no papers, no arms, absolutely nothing was there, so far as John could find, on or near either of the bodies which would furnish any clew to their ident.i.ty. Powder horns, knives and all things of the kind usually carried by men in the woods had been taken away. The further fact that the dead had been scalped, as well as robbed, convinced John that Indians had done the deed. He did not linger long, however, to speculate upon the question. Placing the covering of brush over the bodies again, he literally fled from the spot, nor did he slacken his speed to a rapid walk until he had left the cause of his alarm a full mile behind.

Unnerved and depressed as he was, John entirely forgot the danger which confronted him in his accustomed haunts, and constantly thought of but one thing, which was that he must see Kingdom and tell him of the terrible discovery without a moment's delay.

"I'll keep going all night; no rest for me now," he told himself, and yet what he meant to do or what he supposed Ree would be able to do concerning the matter uppermost in his mind, he would not have been able to say.

Night came on. Poor Jerome had eaten nothing since morning and his fatigue was great. His mind was calmer now, and he felt the uselessness of going on without rest or food. Beside a great log where the wind had drifted the freshly fallen leaves he sat down, therefore, and ate the little meat he had remaining. It was rather comfortable here, he thought-almost any resting place would seem so after such a day as he had had-and he wrapped his blanket about him and lay down. The next day he would be back to the rocky ledges and the friendly hollow poplar again. By Monday morning, if not before, he would see Kingdom, that is, if nothing had befallen him. After what he had seen at the "lick" he would not be surprised to hear of more dreadful things.

How greatly both he and Ree had trusted the Indians, he reflected. Now if he could but find Kingdom safe and sound, and they both could get away to Fort Pitt or any place of safety, he would ask nothing more. But no, on second thought, he would ask yet one thing. It would be the privilege of joining Gen. Wayne's army and taking up arms against the savages in any campaign the white military would conduct.

And so thinking, John Jerome fell asleep.

It was a crisp, bright, fall night. Return Kingdom had eaten his supper quite dejectedly after spending the whole day watching for the coming of Lone-Elk or others of the Indians, while making scarcely more than a pretense of being busy husking corn. He was glad that John would soon return. While he had no thought of deserting the cabin and the clearing, he would feel much more comfortable to have Jerome somewhere near. True, he could see but little of him until Lone-Elk's accusation was effectually disposed of, but there would at least be some one with whom he could discuss the situation, some one sharing with him the news of each day's developments and the plans for future action.

In a brown study Ree sat before the fireplace. Then an Indian yell, fierce and loud-a yell which was more of a war-whoop than he was glad to hear-brought him quickly to his feet. Seizing his rifle, he opened a loophole in the wall in a corner where the light was dim, and looked out. A party of savages was approaching. The Indians moved in single file, making no effort to conceal their numbers, and seeming to be bent on no particular mischief.

Rea.s.sured by his observations, Kingdom opened the door while the redskins were yet but half way up the hill and, putting on an appearance of unconcern, called out to know who was disturbing the night with such a racket.

"The Delawares have come to demand the Little Paleface," the voice of Lone-Elk rose in response.

"You mean the Seneca has come," Kingdom boldly answered. "It is he who demands that one who was never anything but the friend of the Delawares shall be punished for a crime that is not his."

By this time the Indians were close about the cabin door.

"Come in, friends," Kingdom continued, his voice taking on a more cordial tone. "I suppose you have come to look for Little Paleface, but he is not here nor has he been for many days."

"Witches come or witches go. Like the wind they are here but they are gone. Let the Delawares see."

These words from Lone-Elk set all the party to looking about in careful search. No crevice was too small to escape their investigations. They seemed to think the so-called witch might hide himself in a s.p.a.ce not large enough to admit a hand, and peered into every c.h.i.n.k and corner.

It developed later that the savages were looking more for evidence of witchcraft than for the alleged witch himself. Still nothing was discovered.

"Brothers, hearken to Lone-Elk," the Seneca cried presently. "We remember the great crow which sat so long upon the gathered corn. Look, then, where the corn was. Witches take strange forms but they leave marks behind, if the Delawares can find them."

In a body the reckless party of braves the Seneca had brought rushed toward the cornfield. Only one loitered in the rear and he was Fis.h.i.+ng Bird.

Lone-Elk was in advance. Even while he spoke, he was leading the way, and as if he had marked the spot well, he went directly to the shock of corn on which the vagrant crow was perched the day the Indians watched in vain for John Jerome while he slyly peeked out at them from the cabin loft.

"Tear down the corn! See what can be found!" the Seneca cried, and with a violent jerk laid the shock of fodder over upon the ground.

"Ugh!"

The savage who spoke was an evil-looking fellow and one of Lone-Elk's warmest followers. Even as his exclamations were made, he seized a heavy stone tomahawk, which lay on the ground where the shock of corn had been, and held it up for all to behold.

Lone-Elk shrugged his shoulders significantly and called all the Indians together. Here, he declared, was the identical hatchet which had slain Big Buffalo. And see the dark stains upon it! Even in the moonlight did they show red with the blood of the dead warrior.

With talk of this kind the anger of the Delawares was inflamed. Most of them now believed implicitly the charges of witchcraft Lone-Elk had made, and a few words from him would be sufficient to cause an immediate attack to be made upon Ree and the cabin.

Kingdom saw his danger. He knew as well as if he had seen the thing done that Lone-Elk had concealed the tomahawk beneath the shock of corn, but what could he do or say? If only Fis.h.i.+ng Bird would tell what he had seen after following the Seneca to the white boys' clearing, it might be enough to turn the sentiment of the Indians another way. They would see that they were being trifled with and their ignorance played upon by one who was not trusted even by his own tribe. The whole trouble might be settled at once.

But Fis.h.i.+ng Bird did not speak and Kingdom would not betray the friendly fellow's confidence, though his very life depended upon it. Still he made light of the discovery of the tomahawk and told Lone-Elk to his face that he knew perfectly well who hid the hatchet in the corn.

So bold was Ree, indeed, in making this and other accusations against the Seneca that the latter would have made an end of the young white man then and there but for his fear of Captain Pipe. As it was, he satisfied himself with inflaming the Delawares against Ree, as well as against the "Paleface witch," and undoubtedly hoped in secret that some of the more reckless ones would set fire to the cabin, or even kill its owner. So long as he could tell their chief that the Delawares themselves, not he, had committed the outrage and violated the promise made the young Paleface, he could wish nothing better.

Kingdom owed it to Fis.h.i.+ng Bird and two or three others, but to Fis.h.i.+ng Bird most of all, that the exciting talk of the Seneca resulted in no immediate harm to him. The counsel of these Indians was not of the loud and angry manner of Lone-Elk's bitter speeches, but to the contrary, quiet and persuasive.

"The Delawares will bide their time. They will do nothing rash because Lone-Elk seeks with talk to drive them to madness. Can it be the Seneca has some reason that we know not of for desiring the trouble he seeks to cause?"

With many quiet remarks of this character, spoken in the Indian tongue, Fis.h.i.+ng Bird moved among the excited braves and warriors, and more than one, chancing to hear his low spoken words, stopped in the midst of his shouting and threatening demonstrations to consider if what Fis.h.i.+ng Bird said was not pretty wholesome counsel after all.

Through all the uproar and while the savages ran here and there, shrieking and excited, upsetting the shocks of corn and doing much other annoying damage, bent on finding more hidden tomahawks or other evidence of witchcraft, Kingdom stood in the cabin doorway. He could close and bar the door in a second if it should be necessary to do so, he knew; but until that time came he meant to give none of the Delawares, much less Lone-Elk, any cause for believing that he was in any manner frightened or at all seriously disturbed.

When it became apparent that nothing more was to be discovered, the few Indians who had not already taken heed of the words of Fis.h.i.+ng Bird quieted down and seeing that they would commit no greater or further violence, the Seneca summoned all to gather round him. Close to the cabin he led the band, and not knowing what the treacherous rascal might have in mind, Kingdom gripped his rifle closer and even slung it up to a position over his arm in which he could make quick use of the weapon.

"The White Fox was to give himself as a hostage for the delivery of the Paleface witch to the Delawares," Lone-Elk cried to the Indians who gathered round him. "If the one that is called Little Paleface is not a witch and did not kill Big Buffalo with his witch's hatchet, let the White Fox say where the Little Paleface is, and come now as a hostage to the great chief, Hopocon, till the murderer of Big Buffalo is found."