Birch Bark Legends of Niagara Part 3

The full moon ascending majestically above the horizon, with its pale, wavering light softened into beauty the rough rocks and banks, revealing the brilliant and beautiful path that one by one, the wisest and best of their tribe, had followed. Showering its light upon the narrow river path, already filled with the sad hearted maidens leading the submissive Fawn to the waiting boat in the quiet little bay; they hushed the noisy feast with their low sweet voices as they sung her virtues, followed by a subdued and curious crowd of every age and s.e.x. About stepping from the rock to her boat, the Fawn turned to her sire, but e'er she spoke the sachem answered her appealing look.

"I have no word or gift to send by thee my child. Thou art my all. The Great Oak will soon fall, but in falling must crush his enemies. Thy father will follow thee on the beautiful trail when the Manitou next lights the way," turning, as he finished, his back towards the river, while the Fawn placed herself with mechanical helplessness in the boat.

Instantly the unnoticed, but faithful wolf, sprung after her. Arms were stretched to pull him out, but the sachem's voice caused them to fall by the sides of the officious forms to which they belonged.

"The Manitou calls whom he hath use for. If he sent my child through the artfulness of that young chief to the brow of the big hill, he hath also called the wolf, because he hath need of him; let him go. I have said."

The little bark, held firmly by strong ropes twisted from the inside bark of the elm, and fastened to both ends of the boat and to the side next to the sh.o.r.e, the other ends of the rope held by the weeping maidens who followed the river path, slowly towing the little bark to a point near the brink of the cataract, on the east border of the river, where a platform of flat rocks whose uneven portions appear here and there above the surface of the water, form a solid foundation to its unsandy sh.o.r.e. There tossing the ropes from them, the light canoe drawn by the powerful current would dance only a moment on the bounding waves, ere it launched into the misty region surrounding the mystical path, where transition is hid from mortal eye. Slowly drawn by the reluctant girls, the Fawn commenced her death song, a simple address to the Manitou, while her thoughts evidently clung to her earthly friends.

"Thou hath called. Great Manitou, from thy forest on high, I come, I'll follow thy wampum-dyed path through the sky; Thy gifts hath been poured on the chieftains and braves, They send Thee their child on the dark boiling waves; Soon in the Beautiful Path she will be, Loaded with tears so precious for Thee; The grief of my sire, the grief of my brave, Oh! Precious the load on this terrible wave; But cheered by my chief, as the last leap draws nigh, Can I look back and see him from thy Path in the sky?

One look, O Manitou! 'ere my face rams From my father and brave, where my heart still yearns; That look; and their tears my offering shall be, Oh precious the load I'll carry to Thee, As my spirit will rise in the mist o'er the wave, While my body floats down to its watery grave."

Suddenly her song was interrupted by another wail, commencing low and gradually rising, till its clear notes seemed to fill the surrounding woods, mingling with the shrieks of the wind as it wound round the prominent rocks they were slowly approaching. There on the very rock where the Fawn's little bark would dart away from the open hands of the sad lamenting maidens, stood un.o.bserved by all but his own braves, the tall figure of Grey Eagle, dimly seen through the suddenly cloudy moonlight, erect against the dark back ground of the forest, singing in an exulting voice and manner, words that betrayed his intentions, which none would dare prevent, or set at naught if accepted by the Manitou,--a free spontaneous gift of life on his part, as shown in the words that floated on the night air to the ears of his hearers.

"Thou lift'st not thy hand, which only can save The dark-eyed maid from thy terrible wave; She is tender and timid, Oh! Great Manitou!

In the arms of her brave to Thee she must go, In the arms of her brave take the terrible flight, Together their spirits shall, rise into light."

As the ropes fell, from the trembling hands of the towing maidens, the moon in mercy seemed to hide her face beneath a cloud, veiling in darkness the fearful tragedy, as the Fawn floated off on the pitiless wave. A splash; a struggle; a wild howl, filled the air, echoing from rock to rock and from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e. One ray of light from between the clouds revealed the little boat, as poised an instant in the misty vapor over the boiling surge, and dark forms gathered on the rocks from whence the bark had just departed; while shout and strife and angry threats grew loud among the warlike group madly struggling on that brink of eternity. Great Oak alone could quell the tumult. Followed by some sympathizing chiefs he wound his way among the promiscuous crowd already gathered. On the sh.o.r.e near the brink of the falling waters, on the stony tables extending far out into the water, stood Grey Eagle's warriors, firm as the rocks beneath them. In the center of this group, almost a prisoner of his own braves, was the speechless Grey Eagle; at his feet crouched the powerful wolf over the prostrate form of the insensible Fawn, alternately howling and licking her face. At the appearance of the old chief clamor ceased, and with difficulty the astonished father was made to understand the cause of the excitement.

At the moment of the Indian girls freeing the boat, the natural instinct of the wolf apprised him of her danger; instantly springing to his loved mistress, fastening his powerful jaws in her deer skin dress, the faithful beast tumbled into the water, struggling with fear and more than common strength to the rock where stood the almost petrified Grey Eagle, who then recognized the omnipotent power that moved to save.

Being surrounded by his own braves who quickly and thoughtfully pa.s.sed them to the sh.o.r.e, re-commenced the pow-wow in which Black Snake's voice was heard above all the others, calling on the Manitou to let his wrath fall on the strangers for robbing him of his gifts, and not on the open hands of his own people, and calling for help to toss them all into the boiling waters, to avert the wrath of the Manitou from themselves, he tried to suit his actions to his words. His voice was last heard on the brink of the precipice, as if in a deadly contest.

When the sachem and the other chiefs agreed the Manitou had taken what he wanted, and given the rest back to his sorrowful children, Black Snake was not there. When the pine cones were piled high on the big fire, and Grey Eagle was proclaimed War-Chief, and the wolf as a totem thereafter to the mingle tribes of Great Oak's and Grey Eagle's people, and was marked indelibly on each warrior, Black Snake was not there.

When the feast and dance commenced and the now animated Fawn, in the presence of all the chiefs, gave her wampum to Grey Eagle, and the night wore away with wild festivities, as chief after chief silently disappeared, as they had appeared, in the dark winding paths over the hills and around marshes to their distant homes; and peace and happiness again spread around old Niagara, while the sa.s.safras' fragrant smoke from their cheerful wigwams mingling with the cataract's cloudy mist, rose like incense to their Manitou, Black Snake still was not there; and only for the Swaying Reed wandering up and down the vine tangled banks, ever looking among the rocks, and listening for a well remembered step, or some mimic note of the departed brave, he would have pa.s.sed from their memories as he had from the sight of the n.o.ble and generous wolf tribe created and loved of the Great Manitou of Niagara.