The Little Red Foot Part 68

"When I was only a poor hunter of the Montagnais, I said to myself, 'I am a man, yet hardly one.'[23] I learned that a Saguenay was a real man when my brother told me.

[Footnote 23: Kon-kwe-ha. Literally, "I am a little of a real man."]

"My brother cleared my eyes and wiped away the ancient mist of tears. I looked; and lo! I found that I was a real man. I was made like other men and not like a beast to be kicked at and stoned and driven with sticks flung at me in the forest."

"The Yellow Leaf is a warrior," I said. "The Oneida Anowara[24] bear witness to scalps taken in battle by the Yellow Leaf. Tahioni, the Wolf, took no more."

[Footnote 24: "Tortoise," or n.o.ble Clan.]

"Ni-ha-ron-ta-kowa,"[25] said the Saguenay proudly, "onkwe honwe![26]

Yet it was my _white_ brother who cleared my eyes of mist. Therefore, let him give me a new name--a warrior's name--meaning that my vision is now clear."

[Footnote 25: He is an Oneida.]

[Footnote 26: "A real man," in Canienga dialect. The Saguenay's Iroquois is mixed and imperfect.]

"Very well," said I, "your war name shall be Sak-yen-haton!"[27]--which was as good Iroquois as I could p.r.o.nounce, and good enough for the Montagnais to comprehend, it seemed, for a gleam shot from his eyes, and I heard him say to himself in a low voice: "Haiah-ya! I am a real warrior now!... Onenh! at last!"

[Footnote 27: "Disappearing Mist"--Sakayen-gwaration.]

A shot came from the water; he looked around contemptuously and smiled.

"My elder brother," said he, "shall we two strip and set our knives between our teeth, and swim out to scalp those muskrats yonder?"

"And if they fire at us in the water?" said I, amused at his mad courage, who had once been "hardly a man."

"Then we dive like Tchurako, the mink, and swim beneath the water, as swims old 'long face' the great wolf-pike![28] Shall we rush upon them thus, O my elder brother?"

[Footnote 28: Che-go-sis--pickerel. In the Oneida dialect, Ska-ka-lux or _Bad-eye_.]

Absurd as it was, the wild idea began to inflame me, and I was seriously considering our chances at twilight to accomplish such a business, when, of a sudden, I saw on the mainland an officer of the Indian Department, who bore a white rag on the point of his hanger and waved it toward the house.

He came across the Johnstown Road to our gate, but made no motion to open it, and stood there slowly waving his white flag and waiting to be noticed and hailed.

"Keep your rifle on that man," I whispered to my Indian, "for I shall go down to the orchard and learn what are the true intentions of these green-coats and blue-eyed Indians. Find a rest for your piece, hold steadily, and kill that flag if I am fired on."

I saw him stretch out flat on his belly and rest his rifle on the veranda rail. Then I crawled into the garret, descended through the darkened house, and, unbolting the door, went out and down across the gra.s.s to the orchard.

"What is your errand?" I called out, "you flag there outside our gate?"

"Is that you, John Drogue?" came a familiar voice.

I took a long look at him from behind my apple tree, and saw it was Jock Campbell, one of Sir John's Highland brood and late a subaltern in the Royal Provincials.

And that he should come here in a green coat with these murderous vagabonds incensed me.

"What do you want, Jock Campbell!" I demanded, controlling my temper.

"I want a word with you under a flag!"

"Say what you have to say, but keep outside that gate!" I retorted.

"John Drogue," says he, "we came here to burn Summer House, and mean to do it. We know how many you have to defend the place----"

"Oh, do you know that? Then tell me, Jock, if you truly possess the information."

"Very well," said he calmly. "You are two white men, a Montagnais dog, and a girl. And pray tell me, sir, how long do you think you can hold us off?"

"Well," said I, "if you are as thrifty with your skins as you have been all day, then we should keep this place a week or two against you."

"What folly!" he exclaimed hotly. "Do you think to prevail against us?"

"Why, I don't know, Jock. Ask Beacraft yonder, who hath a bullet in his belly. He's wiser than he was and should offer you good counsel."

"I offer you safe conduct if you march out at once!" he shouted.

"I offer you one of Beacraft's pills if you do not instantly about face and march into the bush yonder!" I replied.

At that he dashed the flag upon the road and shook his naked sword at me.

"Your blood be on your heads!" he bawled. "I can not hold my Indians if you defy them longer!"

"Well, then, Jock," said I, "I'll hold 'em for you, never fear!"

He strode to the fence and grasped it.

"Will you march out? Shame on you, Stormont, who are seduced by this Yankee rabble o' rebels when your place is with Sir John and with the loyal gentlemen of Tryon!

"For the last time, then, will you parley and march out? Or shall I give you and your Caughnawaga wench to my Indians?"

I walked out from behind my tree and drew near the fence, where he was standing, his sword hanging from one wrist by the leather knot.

"Jock Campbell," said I, "you are a great villain. Do you lay aside your hanger and your pistols, and I will set my rifle here, and we shall soon see what your bragging words are worth."

At that he drove his sword into the earth, but, as I set my rifle against a tree, he lifted his pistol and fired at me, and I felt the wind of the bullet on my right cheek.

Then he s.n.a.t.c.hed his sword and was already vaulting the gate, when my Saguenay's bullet caught him in mid-air, and he fell across the top rail and slid down on the muddy road outside.

Then, for the first time, I saw the two real Mohawks where they lay in ambush in the bush. One of them had risen to a kneeling position, and I saw the red flash of his piece and saw the smoke blot out the tree-trunk.

For a second I held my fire; then saw them both on the ground under the alders across the road, and fired very carefully at the nearest one.

He dropped his gun and let out a startling screech, tried to get up off the ground, screeching all the while; then lay scrabbling on the dead leaves.

I stepped behind an apple tree, primed and reloaded in desperate haste, and presently drew the fire of the other Indian with my cap on my ramrod.

Then, as I ran to the gate, my Saguenay rushed by me, leaping the fence at a great bound, and I saw his up-flung hatchet sparkle, and heard it crash through bone.