Henry had but one fear just now, and that was dogs.If the Indians had any of their mongrel curs with them, they would quickly scent him out and give the alarm with their barking.But he believed that the probabilities were against it.This, so he thought then, was a war or hunting camp, and it was likely that the Indians would leave the dogs at their permanent villages.At any rate he would take the risk, and he drew slowly toward the oak opening, where some Indians stood about.Beyond them, in another dip of the valley, was a wider opening which he had not seen on his first trip, and this contained not only bark shelters, but buildings that indicated a permanent village.The second and larger opening was filled with a great concourse of warriors.
Fortunately the foliage around the opening was very dense, many trees and thickets everywhere.Henry crept to the very rim, where, lying in the blackest of the shadows, and well hidden himself, he could yet see nearly everything in the camp.The men were not eating now, although it was obvious that the hunters had done well.The dressed bodies of deer and bear hung in the bark shelters.Most of the Indians sat about the fires, and it seemed to Henry that they had an air of expectancy.At least two hundred were present, and all of them were in war paint, although there were several styles of paint.There was a difference in appearance, too, in the warriors, and Henry surmised that representatives of all the tribes of the Iroquois were there, coming to the extreme western boundary or fringe of their country.
While Henry watched them a half dozen who seemed by their bearing and manner to be chiefs drew together at a point not far from him and talked together earnestly.Now and then they looked toward the forest, and he was quite sure that they were expecting somebody, a person of importance.He became deeply interested.
He was lying in a dense clump of hazel bushes, flat upon his stomach, his face raised but little above the ground.He would have been hidden from the keenest eye only ten feet away, but the faces of the chiefs outlined against the blazing firelight were so clearly visible to him that he could see every change of expression.They were fine-looking men, all of middle age, tall, lean, their noses hooked, features cut clean and strong, and their heads shaved, all except the defiant scalp lock, into which the feather of an eagle was twisted.Their bodies were draped in fine red or blue blankets, and they wore leggins and moccasins of beautifully tanned deerskin.
They ceased talking presently, and Henry heard a distant wailing note from the west.Some one in the camp replied with a cry in kind, and then a silence fell upon them all.The chiefs stood erect, looking toward the west.Henry knew that he whom they expected was at hand.
The cry was repeated, but much nearer, and a warrior leaped into the opening, in the full blaze of the firelight.He was entirely naked save for a breech cloth and moccasins, and he was a wild and savage figure.He stood for a moment or two, then faced the chiefs, and, bowing before them, spoke a few words in the Wyandot tongue-Henry knew already by his paint that he was a Wyandot.
The chiefs inclined their heads gravely, and the herald, turning, leaped back into the forest.In two or three minutes six men, including the herald, emerged from the woods, and Henry moved a little when he saw the first of the six, all of whom were Wyandots.It was Timmendiquas, head chief of the Wyandots, and Henry had never seen him more splendid in manner and bearing than he was as he thus met the representatives of the famous Six Nations.Small though the Wyandot tribe might be, mighty was its valor and fame, and White Lightning met the great Iroquois only as an equal, in his heart a superior.
It was an extraordinary thing, but Henry, at this very moment, burrowing in the earth that be might not lose his life at the hands of either, was an ardent partisan of Timmendiquas.It was the young Wyandot chief whom he wished to be first, to make the greatest impression, and he was pleased when he heard the low hum of admiration go round the circle of two hundred savage warriors.
It was seldom, indeed, perhaps never, that the Iroquois had looked upon such a man as Timmendiquas.
Timmendiquas and his companions advanced slowly toward the chiefs, and the Wyandot overtopped all the Iroquois.Henry could tell by the manner of the chiefs that the reputation of the famous White Lightning had preceded him, and that they had already found fact equal to report.
The chiefs, Timmendiquas among them, sat down on logs before the fire, and all the warriors withdrew to a respectful distance, where they stood and watched in silence.The oldest chief took his long pipe, beautifully carved and shaped like a trumpet, and filled it with tobacco which he lighted with a coal from the fire.Then he took two or three whiffs and passed the pipe to Timmendiquas, who did the same.Every chief smoked the pipe, and then they sat still, waiting in silence.
Henry was so much absorbed in this scene, which was at once a spectacle and a drama, that he almost forgot where he was, and that he was an enemy.He wondered now at their silence.If this was a council surely they would discuss whatever question had brought them there! But he was soon enlightened.That low far cry came again, but from the east.It was answered, as before, from the camp, and in three or four minutes a warrior sprang from the forest into the opening.Like the first, he was naked except for the breech cloth and moccasins.The chiefs rose at his coming, received his salute gravely, and returned it as gravely.
Then he returned to the forest, and all waited in the splendid calm of the Indian.
