Chapter V. The Iroquois Town

by Joseph A. Altsheler

　　Henry lay fully an hour in the bushes. He had forgotten aboutthe dogs that he dreaded, but evidently he was right in hissurmise that the camp contained none. Nothing disturbed himwhile he stared at what was passing by the firelight. Therecould be no doubt that the meeting of Timmendiquas andThayendanegea portended great things, but he would not be stirredfrom his task of rescuing his comrades or discovering their fate.

　　They two, great chiefs, sat long in close converse. Others-oldermen, chiefs, also-came at times and talked with them. But thesetwo, proud, dominating, both singularly handsome men of theIndian type, were always there. Henry was almost ready to stealaway when he saw a new figure approaching the two chiefs. Thewalk and bearing of the stranger were familiar, and HENRY knewhim even before his face was lighted tip by the fire. It wasBraxton Wyatt, the renegade, who had escaped the great battles onboth the Ohio and the Mississippi, and who was here with theIroquois, ready to do to his own race all the evil that he could.Henry felt a shudder of repulsion, deeper than any Indian couldinspire in him. They fought for their own land and their ownpeople, but Braxton Wyatt had violated everything that an honestman should hold sacred.

　　Henry, on the whole, was not surprised to see him. Such a chancewas sure to draw Braxton Wyatt. Moreover, the war, so far as itpertained to the border, seemed to be sweeping toward thenortheast, and it bore many stormy petrels upon its crest.

　　He watched Wyatt as he walked toward one of the fires. There therenegade sat down and talked with the warriors, apparently on thebest of terms. He was presently joined by two more renegades,whom Henry recognized as Blackstaffe and Quarles. Timmendiquasand Thayendanegea rose after a while, and walked toward thecenter of the camp, where several of the bark shelters had beenenclosed entirely. Henry judged that one had been set apart foreach, but they were lost from his view when they passed withinthe circling ring of warriors.

　　Henry believed that the Iroquois and Wyandots would form afortified camp here, a place from which they would make suddenand terrible forays upon the settlements. He based his opinionupon the good location and the great number of saplings that hadbeen cut down already. They would build strong lodges and then apalisade around them with the saplings. He was speedilyconfirmed in this opinion when he saw warriors come to the forestwith hatchets and begin to cut down more saplings. He knew thenthat it was time to go, as a wood chopper might blunder upon himat any time.

　　He slipped from his covert and was quickly gone in the forest.His limbs were somewhat stiff from lying so long in one position,but that soon wore away, and he was comparatively fresh when hecame once more to the islet in the swamp. A good moon was nowshining, tipping the forest with a fine silvery gray, and Henrypurveyed with the greatest satisfaction the simple little shelterthat he had found so opportunely. It was a good house, too, goodto such a son of the deepest forest as was Henry. It was made ofnothing but bark and poles, but it had kept out all that long,penetrating rain of the last three or four days, and when helifted the big stone aside and opened the door it seemed as snuga place as he could have wished.

　　He left the door open a little, lighted a small fire on the flatstones, having no fear that it would be seen through the densecurtain that shut him in, and broiled big bear steaks on thecoals. When he had eaten and the fire had died he went out andsat beside the hut. He was well satisfied with the day's work,and he wished now to think with all the concentration that onemust put upon a great task if he expects to achieve it. Heintended to invade the Indian camp, and he knew full well that itwas the most perilous enterprise that he had ever attempted. Yetscouts and hunters had done such things and had escaped withtheir lives. He must not shrink from the path that others hadtrodden.

　　He made up his mind firmly, and partly thought out his plan ofoperations. Then he rested, and so sanguine was his temperamentthat he began to regard the deed itself as almost achieved.Decision is always soothing after doubt, and he fell into apleasant dreamy state. A gentle wind was blowing, the forest wasdry and the leaves rustled with the low note that is like thesoftest chord of a violin. It became penetrating, thrillinglysweet, and hark! it spoke to him in a voice that he knew. It wasthe same voice that he had heard on the Ohio, mystic, but tellinghim to be of heart and courage. He would triumph over hardshipsand dangers, and he would see his friends again.

　　Henry started up from his vision. The song was gone, and heheard only the wind softly moving the leaves. It had been vagueand shadowy as gossamer, light as the substance of a dream, butit was real to him, nevertheless, and the deep glow of certaintriumph permeated his being, body and mind. It was not strangethat he had in his nature something of the Indian mysticism thatpersonified the winds and the trees and everything about him.The Manitou of the red man and the ancient Aieroski of theIroquois were the same as his own God. He could not doubt thathe had a message. Down on the Ohio he had had the same messagemore than once, and it had always come true.

　　He heard a slight rustling among the bushes, and, sittingperfectly still, he saw a black bear emerge into the open. Ithad gained the islet in some manner, probably floundering throughthe black mire, and the thought occurred to him that it was themate of the one he had slain, drawn perhaps by instinct on thetrail of a lost comrade. He could have shot the bear as hesat-and he would need fresh supplies of food soon-but he did nothave the heart to do it.

　　The bear sniffed a little at the wind, which was blowing thehuman odor away from him, and sat back on his haunches. Henrydid not believe that the animal had seen him or was yet aware ofhis presence, although he might suspect. There was somethinghumorous and also pathetic in the visitor, who cocked his head onone side and looked about him. He made a distinct appeal toHenry, who sat absolutely still, so still that the little bearcould not be sure at first that he was a human being. A minutepassed, and the red eye of the bear rested upon the boy. Henryfelt pleasant and sociable, but he knew that he could retainfriendly relations only by remaining quiet.

　　If I have eaten your comrade, my friend," he said to himself, "itis only because of hard necessity." The bear, little, comic, andyet with that touch of pathos about him, cocked his head a littlefurther over on one side, and as a silver shaft of moonlight fellupon him Henry could see one red eye gleaming. It was a singularfact, but the boy, alone in the wilderness, and the loser of hiscomrades, felt for the moment a sense of comradeship with thebear, which was also alone, and doubtless the loser of a comrade,also. He uttered a soft growling sound like the satisfied purrof a bear eating its food.

　　The comical bear rose a little higher on his hind paws, andlooked in astonishment at the motionless figure that utteredsounds so familiar. Yet the figure was not familiar. He hadnever seen a human being before, and the shape and outline werevery strange to him. It might be some new kind of animal, and hewas disposed to be inquiring, because there was nothing in theseforests which the black bear was afraid of until man came.

　　He advanced a step or two and growled gently. Then he reared upagain on his hind paws, and cocked his held to one side in hisamusing manner. Henry, still motionless, smiled at him. Here,for an instant at least, was a cheery visitor and companionship.He at least would not break the spell.

　　"You look almost as if you could talk, old fellow," he said tohimself, "and if I knew your language I'd ask you a lot ofquestions."

　　The bear, too, was motionless now, torn by doubt and curiosity.It certainly was a singular figure that sat there, fifteen ortwenty yards before him, and he had the most intense curiosity tosolve the mystery of this creature. But caution held him back.

　　There was a sudden flaw in the light breeze. It shifted aboutand brought the dreadful man odor to the nostrils of the honestblack bear. It was something entirely new to him, but itcontained the quality of fear. That still strange figure was hisdeadliest foe. Dropping down upon his four paws, he fled amongthe trees, and then scrambled somehow through the swamp to themainland.

　　Henry sighed. Despite his own friendly feeling, the bear, warnedby instinct, was afraid of him, and, as he was bound toacknowledge to himself, the bear's instinct was doubtless right.He rose, went into the hut, and slept heavily through the night.In the morning he left the islet once more to scout in thedirection of the Indian camp, but he found it a most dangeroustask. The woods were full of warriors hunting. As he hadjudged, the game was abundant, and he heard rifles cracking inseveral directions. He loitered, therefore, in the thickest ofthe thickets, willing to wait until night came for hisenterprise. It was advisable, moreover, to wait, because be didnot see yet just how he was going to succeed. He spent nearlythe whole day shifting here and there through the forest, butlate in the afternoon, as the Indians yet seemed so numerous inthe woods, he concluded to go back toward the islet.

　　He was about two miles from the swamp when he heard a cry, sharpbut distant. It was that of the savages, and Henry instinctivelydivined the cause. A party of the warriors had come somehow uponhis trail, and they would surely follow it. It was a mischancethat he had not expected. He waited a minute or two, and thenheard the cry again, but nearer. He knew that it would come nomore, but it confirmed him in his first opinion.

　　Henry had little fear of being caught, as the islet was sosecurely hidden, but he did not wish to take even a remote chanceof its discovery. Hence he ran to the eastward of it, intendingas the darkness came, hiding his trail, to double back and regainthe hut.

　　He proceeded at a long, easy gait, his mind not troubled by thepursuit. It was to him merely an incident that should be endedas soon as possible, annoying perhaps, but easily cured. So heswung lightly along, stopping at intervals among the bushes tosee if any of the warriors had drawn near, but he detectednothing. Now and then he looked up to the sky, willing thatnight should end this matter quickly and peacefully.

　　His wish seemed near fulfillment. An uncommonly brilliant sunwas setting. The whole west was a sea of red and yellow fire,but in the east the forest was already sinking into the dark. Heturned now, and went back toward the west on a line parallel withthe pursuit, but much closer to the swamp. The dusk thickenedrapidly. The sun dropped over the curve of the world, and thevast complex maze of trunks and boughs melted into a solid blackwall. The incident of the pursuit was over and with it its pettyannoyances. He directed his course boldly now for the steppingstones, and traveled fast. Soon the first of them would be lessthan a hundred yards away.

　　But the incident was not over. Wary and skillful though theyoung forest runner might be, he had made one miscalculation, andit led to great consequences. As he skirted the edge of theswamp in the darkness, now fully come, a dusky figure suddenlyappeared. It was a stray warrior from some small band, wanderingabout at will. The meeting was probably as little expected byhim as it was by Henry, and they were so close together when theysaw each other that neither had time to raise his rifle. Thewarrior, a tall, powerful man, dropping his gun and snatching outa knife, sprang at once upon his enemy.

　　Henry was borne back by the weight and impact, but, making animmense effort, he recovered himself and, seizing the wrist ofthe Indian's knife hand, exerted all his great strength. Thewarrior wished to change the weapon from his right band, but hedared not let go with the other lest he be thrown down at once,and with great violence. His first rush having failed, he wasnow at a disadvantage, as the Indian is not generally a wrestler.Henry pushed him back, and his hand closed tighter and tighteraround the red wrist. He wished to tear the knife from it, buthe, too, was afraid to let go with the other hand, and so the tworemained locked fast. Neither uttered a cry after the firstcontact, and the only sounds in the dark were their hardbreathing, which turned to a gasp now and then, and the shuffleof their feet over the earth.

　　Henry felt that it must end soon. One or the other must giveway. Their sinews were already strained to the cracking point,and making a supreme effort he bore all his weight upon thewarrior, who, unable to sustain himself, went down with the youthupon him. The Indian uttered a groan, and Henry, leapinginstantly to his feet, looked down upon his fallen antagonist,who did not stir. He knew the cause. As they fell the point ofthe knife bad been turned upward, and it had entered the Indian'sheart.

　　Although he had been in peril at his hands, Henry looked at theslain man in a sort of pity. He had not wished to take anyone'slife, and, in reality, he had not been the direct cause of it.But it was a stern time and the feeling soon passed. TheWyandot, for such he was by his paint, would never have felt aparticle of remorse had the victory been his.

　　The moon was now coming out, and Henry looked down thoughtfullyat the still face. Then the idea came to him, in fact leaped upin his brain, with such an impulse that it carried conviction.He would take this warrior's place and go to the Indian camp. Soeager was he, and so full of his plan, that he did not feel anyrepulsion as he opened the warrior's deerskin shirt and took histotem from a place near his heart. It was a little deerskin bagcontaining a bunch of red feathers. This was his charm, hismagic spell, his bringer of good luck, which had failed him sowoefully this time. Henry, not without a touch of the forestbelief, put it inside his own hunting shirt, wishing, although helaughed at himself, that if the red man's medicine had anypotency it should be on his own side.

　　Then he found also the little bag in which the Indian carried hiswar paint and the feather brush with which he put it on. Thenext hour witnessed a singular transformation. A white youth wasturned into a red warrior. He cut his own hair closely, allexcept a tuft in the center, with his sharp hunting knife. Thetuft and the close crop he stained black with the Indian's paint.It was a poor black, but he hoped that it would pass in thenight. He drew the tuft into a scalplock, and intertwined itwith a feather from the Indian's own tuft. Then he stained hisface, neck, hands, and arms with the red paint, and stood forth apowerful young warrior of a western nation.

　　He hid the Indian's weapons and his own raccoon-skin cap in thebrush. Then he took the body of the fallen warrior to the edgeof the swamp and dropped it in. His object was not aloneconcealment, but burial as well. He still felt sorry for theunfortunate Wyandot, and he watched him until he sank completelyfrom sight in the mire. Then he turned away and traveled astraight course toward the great Indian camp.

　　He stopped once on the way at a clear pool irradiated by thebright moonlight, and looked attentively at his reflection. Bynight, at least, it was certainly that of an Indian, and,summoning all his confidence, he continued upon his chosen anddesperate task.

　　Henry knew that the chances were against him, even with hisdisguise, but he was bound to enter the Indian camp, and he wasprepared to incur all risks and to endure all penalties. He evenfelt a certain lightness of heart as he hurried on his way, andat length saw through the forest the flare of light from theIndian camp.

　　He approached cautiously at first in order that he might take agood look into the camp, and he was surprised at what he saw. Ina single day the village had been enlarged much more. It seemedto him that it contained at least twice as many warriors. Womenand children, too, had come, and he heard a stray dog barkinghere and there. Many more fires than usual were burning, andthere was a great murmur of voices.

　　Henry was much taken aback at first. It seemed that he was aboutto plunge into the midst of the whole Iroquois nation, and at atime, too, when something of extreme importance was going on, buta little reflection showed that he was fortunate. Amid so manypeople, and so much ferment it was not at all likely that hewould be noticed closely. It was his intention, if the necessitycame, to pass himself off as a warrior of the Shawnee tribe whohad wandered far eastward, but he meant to avoid sedulously theeye of Timmendiquas, who might, through his size and stature,divine his identity.

　　As Henry lingered at the edge of the camp, in indecision whetherto wait a little or plunge boldly into the light of the fires, hebecame aware that all sounds in the village-for such it wasinstead of a camp-had ceased suddenly, except the light tread offeet and the sound of many people talking low. He saw throughthe bushes that all the Iroquois, and with them the detachment ofWyandots under White Lightning, were going toward a largestructure in the center, which he surmised to be the CouncilHouse. He knew from his experience with the Indians farther westthat the Iroquois built such structures.

　　He could no longer doubt that some ceremony of the greatestimportance was about to begin, and, dismissing indecision, heleft the bushes and entered the village, going with the crowdtoward the great pole building, which was, indeed, the CouncilHouse.

　　But little attention was paid to Henry. He would have drawn noneat all, had it not been for his height, and when a warrior or twoglanced at him he uttered some words in Shawnee, saying that hehad wandered far, and was glad to come to the hospitableIroquois. One who could speak a little Shawnee bade him welcome,and they went on, satisfied, their minds more intent upon theceremony than upon a visitor.

　　The Council House, built of light poles and covered with polesand thatch, was at least sixty feet long and about thirty feetwide, with a large door on the eastern side, and one or twosmaller ones on the other sides. As Henry arrived, the greatchiefs and sub-chiefs of the Iroquois were entering the building,and about it were grouped many warriors and women, and evenchildren. But all preserved a decorous solemnity, and, knowingthe customs of the forest people so well, he was sure that theceremony, whatever it might be, must be of a highly sacrednature. He himself drew to one side, keeping as much as possiblein the shadow, but he was using to its utmost power every facultyof observation that Nature had given him.

　　Many of the fires were still burning, but the moon had come outwith great brightness, throwing a silver light over the wholevillage, and investing with attributes that savored of the mysticand impressive this ceremony, held by a savage but great racehere in the depths of the primeval forest. Henry was about towitness a Condoling Council, which was at once a mourning forchiefs who had fallen in battle farther east with his own peopleand the election and welcome of their successors.

　　The chiefs presently came forth from the Council House or, as itwas more generally called, the Long House, and, despite thegreatness of Thayendanegea, those of the Onondaga tribe, invirtue of their ancient and undisputed place as the politicalleaders and high priests of the Six Nations, led the way. Amongthe stately Onondaga chiefs were: Atotarho (The Entangled),Skanawati (Beyond the River), Tehatkahtons (Looking Both Ways),Tehayatkwarayen (Red Wings), and Hahiron (The Scattered). Theywere men of stature and fine countenance, proud of the titularprimacy that belonged to them because it was the Onondaga,Hiawatha, who had formed the great confederacy more than fourhundred years before our day, or just about the time Columbus waslanding on the shores of the New World.

　　Next to the Onondagas came the fierce and warlike Mohawks, wholived nearest to Albany, who were called Keepers of the EasternGate, and who were fully worthy of their trust. They werecontent that the Onondagas should lead in council, so long asthey were first in battle, and there was no jealousy betweenthem. Among their chiefs were Koswensiroutha (Broad Shoulders)and Satekariwate (Two Things Equal).

　　Third in rank were the Senecas, and among their chiefs wereKanokarih (The Threatened) and Kanyadariyo (Beautiful Lake).

　　These three, the Onondagas, Mohawks, and Senecas, were esteemedthe three senior nations. After them, in order of precedence,came the chiefs of the three junior nations, the Oneidas,Cayugas, and Tuscaroras. All of the great chiefs had assistantchiefs, usually relatives, who, in case of death, often succeededto their places. But these assistants now remained in the crowdwith other minor chiefs and the mass of the warriors. A littleapart stood Timmendiquas and his Wyandots. He, too, was absorbedin the ceremony so sacred to him, an Indian, and he did notnotice the tall figure of the strange Shawnee lingering in thedeepest of the shadows.

　　The head chiefs, walking solemnly and never speaking, marchedacross the clearing, and then through the woods to a glen, wheretwo young warriors had kindled a little fire of sticks as asignal of welcome. The chiefs gathered around the fire and spoketogether in low tones. This was Deyuhnyon Kwarakda, which means"The Reception at the Edge of the Wood."

　　Henry and some others followed, as it was not forbidden to see,and his interest increased. He shared the spiritual feelingwhich was impressed upon the red faces about him. The brightmoonlight, too, added to the effect, giving it the tinge of anold Druidical ceremony.

　　The chiefs relapsed into silence and sat thus about ten minutes.Then rose the sound of a chant, distant and measured, and aprocession of young and inferior chiefs, led by Oneidas,appeared, slowly approaching the fire. Behind them werewarriors, and behind the warriors were many women and children.All the women were in their brightest attire, gay with featherheaddresses and red, blue, or green blankets from the Britishposts.

　　The procession stopped at a distance of about a dozen yards fromthe chiefs about the council fire, and the Oneida, Kathlahon,formed the men in a line facing the head chiefs, with the womenand children grouped in an irregular mass behind them. Thesinging meanwhile had stopped. The two groups stood facing eachother, attentive and listening.

　　Then Hahiron, the oldest of the Onondagas, walked back and forthin the space between the two groups, chanting a welcome. Likeall Indian songs it was monotonous. Every line he uttered withemphasis and a rising inflection, the phrase "Haih-haih" whichmay be translated "Hail to thee!" or better, "All hail!"Nevertheless, under the moonlight in the wilderness and with raptfaces about him, it was deeply impressive. Henry found it so.

　　Hahiron finished his round and went back to his place by thefire. Atotarho, head chief of the Onondagas, holding in hishands beautifully beaded strings of Iroquois wampum, came forwardand made a speech of condolence, to which Kathlahon responded.Then the head chiefs and the minor chiefs smoked pipes together,after which the head chiefs, followed by the minor chiefs, andthese in turn by the crowd, led the way back to the village.

　　Many hundreds of persons were in this procession, which was stillvery grave and solemn, every one in it impressed by tile sacrednature of this ancient rite. The chief entered the great door ofthe Long House, and all who could find places not reservedfollowed. Henry went in with the others, and sat in a corner,making himself as small as possible. Many women, the place ofwhom was high among the Iroquois, were also in the Long House.

　　The head chiefs sat on raised seats at the north end of the greatroom. In front of them, on lower seats, were the minor chiefs ofthe three older nations on the left, and of the three youngernations on the right. In front of these, but sitting on the barkfloor, was a group of warriors. At the east end, on both highand low seats, were warriors, and facing them on the western sidewere women, also on both high and low seats. The southern sidefacing the chiefs was divided into sections, each with high andlow seats. The one on the left was occupied by men, and the oneon the right by women. Two small fires burned in the center ofthe Long House about fifteen feet apart.

　　It was the most singular and one of the most impressive scenesthat Henry had ever beheld. When all had found their seats therewas a deep silence. Henry could hear the slight crackling madeby the two fires as they burned, and the light fell faintlyacross the multitude of dark, eager faces. Not less than fivehundred people were in the Long House, and here was the red manat his best, the first of the wild, not the second or third ofthe civilized, a drop of whose blood in his veins brings to thewhite man now a sense of pride, and not of shame, as it does whenthat blood belongs to some other races.

　　The effect upon Henry was singular. He almost forgot that he wasa foe among them on a mission. For the moment he shared in theirfeelings, and he waited with eagerness for whatever might come.

　　Thayendanegea, the Mohawk, stood up in his place among the greatchiefs. The role he was about to assume belonged to Atotarho,the Onondaga, but the old Onondaga assigned it for the occasionto Thayendanegea, and there was no objection. Thayendanegea wasan educated man, be had been in England, he was a member of aChristian church, and be had translated a part of the Bible fromEnglish into his own tongue, but now he was all a Mohawk, a sonof the forest.

　　He spoke to the listening crowd of the glories of the SixNations, how Hah-gweh-di-yu (The Spirit of Good) had inspiredHiawatha to form the Great Confederacy of the Five Nations,afterwards the Six; how they had held their hunting grounds fornearly two centuries against both English and French; and howthey would hold them against the Americans. He stopped atmoments, and deep murmurs of approval went through the LongHouse. The eyes of both men and women flashed as the oratorspoke of their glory and greatness. Timmendiquas, in a place ofhonor, nodded approval. If he could he would form such anotherleague in the west.

　　The air in the Long House, breathed by so many, became heated.It seemed to have in it a touch of fire. The orator's wordsburned. Swift and deep impressions were left upon the excitedbrain. The tall figure of the Mohawk towered, gigantic, in thehalf light, and the spell that he threw over all was complete.

　　He spoke about half an hour, but when he stopped he did not sitdown. Henry knew by the deep breath that ran through the LongHouse that something more was coming from Thayendanegea.Suddenly the red chief began to sing in a deep, vibrant voice,and this was the song that he sung:

　　This was the roll of you, All hail! All hail! All hail! You that joined in the work, All hail! All hail! All hail! You that finished the task, All hail! All hail! All hail! The Great League, All hail! All hail! All hail!There was the same incessant repetition of "Haih haih!" thatHenry had noticed in the chant at the edge of the woods, but itseemed to give a cumulative effect, like the roll of thunder, andat every slight pause that deep breath of approval ran throughthe crowd in the Long House. The effect of the song wasindescribable. Fire ran in the veins of all, men, women, andchildren. The great pulses in their throats leaped up. Theywere the mighty nation, the ever-victorious, the League of theHo-de-no-sau-nee, that had held at bay both the French and theEnglish since first a white man was seen in the land, and thatwould keep back the Americans now.

　　Henry glanced at Timmendiquas. The nostrils of the great WhiteLightning were twitching. The song reached to the very roots ofhis being, and aroused all his powers. Like Thayendanegea, hewas a statesman, and he saw that the Americans were far moreformidable to his race than English or French had ever been. TheAmericans were upon the ground, and incessantly pressed upon thered man, eye to eye. Only powerful leagues like those of theIroquois could withstand them.

　　Thayendanegea sat down, and then there was another silence, aperiod lasting about two minutes. These silences seemed to be anecessary part of all Iroquois rites. When it closed two youngwarriors stretched an elm bark rope across the room from east towest and near the ceiling, but between the high chiefs and theminor chiefs. Then they hung dressed skins all along it, untilthe two grades of chiefs were hidden from the view of each other.This was the sign of mourning, and was followed by a silence.The fires in the Long House had died down somewhat, and littlewas to be seen but the eyes and general outline of the people.Then a slender man of middle years, the best singer in all theIroquois nation, arose and sang:

　　To the great chiefs bring we greeting, All hail! All hail! All hail! To the dead chiefs, kindred greeting, All hail! All hail! All hail! To the strong men 'round him greeting, All hail! All hail! All hail! To the mourning women greeting, All hail! All hail! All hail! There our grandsires' words repeating, All hail! All hail! All hail! Graciously, Oh, grandsires, hear, All hail! All hail! All hail!The singing voice was sweet, penetrating, and thrilling, and thesong was sad. At the pauses deep murmurs of sorrow ran throughthe crowd in the Long House. Grief for the dead held them all.When he finished, Satekariwate, the Mohawk, holding in his handsthree belts of wampum, uttered a long historical chant telling oftheir glorious deeds, to which they listened patiently. Thechant over, he handed the belts to an attendant, who took them toThayendanegea, who held them for a few moments and looked at themgravely.

　　One of the wampum belts was black, the sign of mourning; anotherwas purple, the sign of war; and the third was white, the sign ofpeace. They were beautiful pieces of workmanship, very old.

　　When Hiawatha left the Onondagas and fled to the Mohawks hecrossed a lake supposed to be the Oneida. While paddling alonghe noticed that man tiny black, purple, and white shells clung tohis paddle. Reaching the shore he found such shells in long rowsupon the beach, and it occurred to him to use them for thedepiction of thought according to color. He strung them onthreads of elm bark, and afterward, when the great league wasformed, the shells were made to represent five clasped hands.For four hundred years the wampum belts have been sacred amongthe Iroquois.

　　Now Thayendanegea gave the wampum belts back to the attendant,who returned them to Satekariwate, the Mohawk. There was asilence once more, and then the chosen singer began the ConsolingSong again, but now he did not sing it alone. Two hundred malevoices joined him, and the time became faster. Its tone changedfrom mourning and sorrow to exultation and menace. Everyonethought of war, the tomahawk, and victory. The song sung as itwas now became a genuine battle song, rousing and thrilling. TheLong House trembled with the mighty chorus, and its volume pouredforth into the encircling dark woods.

　　All the time the song was going on, Satekariwate, the Mohawk,stood holding the belts in his hand, but when it was over he gavethem to an attendant, who carried them to another head chief.Thayendanegea now went to the center of the room and, standingbetween the two fires, asked who were the candidates for theplaces of the dead chiefs.

　　The dead chiefs were three, and three tall men, already chosenamong their own tribes, came forward to succeed them. Then afourth came, and Henry was startled. It was Timmendiquas, who,as the bravest chief of the brave Wyandots, was about to become,as a signal tribute, and as a great sign of friendship, anadopted son and honorary chief of the Mohawks, Keepers of theWestern Gate, and most warlike of all the Iroquois tribes.

　　As Timmendiquas stood before Thayendanegea, a murmur of approvaldeeper than any that had gone before ran through all the crowd inthe Long House, and it was deepest on the women's benches, wheresat many matrons of the Iroquois, some of whom were chiefs-awoman could be a chief among the Iroquois.

　　The candidates were adjudged acceptable by the other chiefs, andThayendanegea addressed them on their duties, while they listenedin grave silence. With his address the sacred part of the ritewas concluded. Nothing remained now but the great banquetoutside - although that was much - and they poured forth to itjoyously, Thayendanegea, the Mohawk, and Timmendiquas, theWyandot, walking side by side, the finest two red chiefs on allthe American continent.