The Trail of the Seneca by Burt L. Standish
Produced by Roger Frank.
"THE CUSTOM IS THAT THE WITCH MUST DIE."]
THE TRAIL OF THE SENECA
By
JAMES A. BRADEN
AUTHOR OF
"CONNECTICUT BOYS IN THE WESTERN RESERVE," "FAR PAST THE FRONTIER," "CAPTIVES THREE," Etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY R. G. VOSBURGH
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
NEW YORK--AKRON, OHIO--CHICAGO
COPYRIGHT, 1907
by THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
Contents
CHAPTER I--THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL CHAPTER II--A SENTENCE OF DEATH--ACCUSED OF WITCHCRAFT CHAPTER III--THE WARNING CHAPTER IV--WATCHED CHAPTER V--IN DRIPPING RAIN AND DARKNESS CHAPTER VI--"THE WITCH IS HIDDEN HERE." CHAPTER VII--THE SECRET LEAD MINE CHAPTER VIII--THE SALT SPRINGS--A STARTLING DISCOVERY CHAPTER IX--THE EVIL POWER OF LONE-ELK CHAPTER X--"MORE BULLETS, MORE LEAD." CHAPTER XI--THE HIDDEN TOMAHAWK CHAPTER XII--KINGDOM ALSO MAKES A DISCOVERY CHAPTER XIII--THE SENECA OUTWITTED CHAPTER XIV--THE MYSTERIOUS CAMP IN THE GULLY CHAPTER XV--THE GIFT OF WHITE WAMPUM CHAPTER XVI--A MIDNIGHT SUPPER CHAPTER XVII--THE EXPLOSION CHAPTER XVIII--FISHING BIRD IN TROUBLE CHAPTER XIX--AN INTERVIEW WITH "MAD ANTHONY" CHAPTER XX--DELIVERED TO THE DELAWARES CHAPTER XXI--THE BURNING OF THE CABIN CHAPTER XXII--THE MAN IN THE RAVINE CHAPTER XXIII--ONE MYSTERY CLEARED AWAY CHAPTER XXIV--WHO KILLED BIG BUFFALO CHAPTER XXV--FAREWELL FOREVE CHAPTER XXVI--DOWN THE SUN-KISSED SLOPE TOGETHER
ILLUSTRATIONS
"The custom is that the witch must die"
He kept his eyes on the Seneca unceasingly
He wheeled and sent the redskin sprawling
They asked him to go with them
CHAPTER I--THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL
A hatchet of stone, cumbersome and crude, but a dangerous weapon once,though now it is only a silent memento of the days of Captain Pipe, ofLone-Elk, of Fishing Bird, the scowling Big Buffalo and the graceful,pretty Gentle Maiden as well, lies on my table as I write.
Of Captain Pipe, Big Buffalo and certain of the others, I have alreadytold you something;--but you have yet to hear of Lone-Elk, theSeneca,--Lone-Elk, the outcast from the villages of his people,--boldand strong yet crafty, deceitful, treacherous,--and still, withal asambitious and as vain an Indian as ever trod the long-ago forestfastnesses.
It is of Lone-Elk that I am to tell you now. What part this tomahawk,which lies upon my table, had in the story may later be revealed to you,but as for that, it is not of great soon to feel the awful force of hisevil power, calmly fished from their canoe at the opposite side of thewater.
Never before had the Delawares prepared so lavishly for the fallThanksgiving. To celebrate the Festival of the Harvest when the corn andthe beans and the squashes, the tobacco and the nuts had been gatheredin was no new thing among them, but Lone-Elk had made the plans for afar more elaborate entertainment this year than the people of CaptainPipe's village were accustomed to have. And notwithstanding that theSeneca was a wanderer from his own home country and might never go backto his rightful tribe, the chief of the Delawares had allowed him toassume the leadership in every arrangement for the happy occasion.
However, Lone-Elk well knew how best to prepare all things to please andfavor Captain Pipe, and he did not fail to see to it that the latter wasgiven many opportunities to display his dignity and his eloquence andwisdom in the speech-making and addresses to the spirits during theexercises in the Council House. What could be more natural, then, thanthat the head Delaware should refuse to listen to those of his peoplewho would have criticised the policy of allowing a comparative stranger'to direct and lead them?
The wandering October breezes scarcely rippled the waters of the littlelake. They whispered in the half-bare branches of the trees and seemedto play at hide-and-seek with the fallen leaves. The blue smoke curlingup from the hole in the roof of the Council House was scarcely moved bythem. All was serenely quiet in and about the Indian town on this autumnday in the year 1792, excepting only in the Council House itself, whereall the Delawares and even a few Mingoes, or stragglers from othertribes or towns, were come together for Thanksgiving. All had come butone.
Even the most ardent of the young braves had put aside their talk ofwar--all summer long they had talked of little else--to participate inthe celebration, and each had brought a contribution of meat of his ownkilling for the feast which was to follow the speech-making andofferings to the Great Spirit. All the youngsters, the boys and girls ofthe village, were there. The old men and women, also, were present.Captain Pipe of course was there and Fishing Bird and Long Hair andLittle Wolf. Of all the people of the town upon the lake only one wasmissing from the ceremonies.
A solemn scene it was when Hopocon, or Pipe, for the former was hisIndian name, in his imposing chieftain's costume stood before the littlefire in the center of the long, low bark building and sprinkled brokentobacco leaves upon the coals that their incense rising might bear hiswords on high. It was an impressive scene as well, and though the numberpresent was large, the greatest quiet prevailed.
It was also an interesting sight. The warriors and bucks were in theirbrightest and newest kilts, leggins and moccasins, with braided beltsbound like sashes about their waists or over their shoulders. Some worethe head-dress of colored eagle feathers; some did not. Lone-Elk was ofthe former and in addition a piece of silver, supported by a cord ofleather about his neck, dangled against his broad, bronze chest, whileat his left knee hung a rattle made of deer's hoofs.
Among the more elderly Indians there was less display in dress, but manyof the young women were in holiday raiment, adding a still further touchof color to the picture. Among the latter was Gentle Maiden, thedaughter of Captain Pipe. A loose gown of doeskin worked with manycolored beads and the quills of porcupines hung from her shoulders toher ankles. On her feet were ornamented moccasins and above themleggins. Two long strings of beads were suspended about her neck,contrasting in color with the deep black of two heavy plaits of hair,falling nearly to her waist.
The leaves of tobacco crimpled and turned to flame on the glowing, hotcoals.
"Great Spirit, listen to our words. We burn this tobacco. The smokerises to thee. We thank thee for thy great goodness in causing ourmother [the earth] to bring forth her fruits. We thank thee that oursupporters [corn, beans and squashes] have yielded abundantly.
"Great Spirit, our words continue to flow toward thee. Preserve us fromall danger. Preserve our aged men. Preserve our mothers. Preserve ourwarriors. Preserve our children. May our thanks, rising with the smokeof this tobacco, be pleasing to thee."
Thus spoke Captain Pipe. Save only for the sound of his voice, thecrackling of the tobacco upon the fire, and the soughing of the windthere was perfect silence in the Council House.
Only when the address was finished did there come a stir of animationamong the assembled Indians. Closer to the walls, farther from the fire,which was in the center of the floor, they crowded then, while out fromamong them came those who were to join in the dance of Thanksgiving.There were fourteen of these, including Lone-Elk and other warriors andbehind the men came Gentle Maiden and four other young women--fourteenin all.
Two singers seated near the center of the large room began a weird,wildly musical chant, their words telling of thanks to the Great Spirit,while in accompaniment to their voices they beat the air with rattlesmade of the shells of turtles.
As the singing began the da
Unlike the dance of war, there were no violent expressions ofcountenance or movements of the body; no striking or attacking ofimaginary foes. Every step was gentle and every motion was graceful.Thus for two or three minutes the dance continued. The assembly lookedon with quiet rapture, pleased and happy.
Presently the music ceased, the dancing was discontinued and while thedancers walked slowly and more slowly in a wide circle around the fire,an old man arose and spoke. It was Neobaw, wrinkled and lean. He wore noheaddress or other ornament and his clothing consisted only ofmoccasins, buckskin trousers and a faded red blanket which he wore overhis shoulders. His coarse and tangled hair hung loosely over his earsand about his shoulders. Neohaw was a medicine-man and was both fearedand respected. His words were:
"We return thanks to Heno [thunder] for his protection from reptiles andfrom witches and that he has given us his rain."
The old man spoke very slowly but with a show of superior learning, asif he and no other was really fit to address so important a spirit. Ashe resumed his seat the singing and dancing began again and for aninterval continued as before.
Again, at the conclusion of the music, an aged warrior rose. His voicequavered and his body trembled with its feebleness beneath the robe offur about his shoulders, but his eyes shone with fervor as he said: "Wereturn thanks to Gaoh [the wind] that by his moving the air disease hasbeen carried from us."
Then as before the music and the dance were resumed and were followed bystill another short but earnest expression of thanksgiving, each part ofthe exercises appearing in its proper order as Lone-Elk had planned anddirected, and as many of the Delawares knew of their own knowledge thatthe ancient custom was.
Thanksgiving to the lakes and rivers, to the sun and moon and stars, tothe trees and flowers and all nature was expressed in the many briefaddresses, till at last the singers' voices were hoarse and the dancerswere wet with perspiration, and weary.
An address by Captain Pipe in which he once again thanked the GreatSpirit for goodness to the Delawares and for all which was theirs,concluded the religious ceremonies of the Harvest Festival and slowlythe Indians dispersed from the Council House. Some went away to gamesand some to their lodges, while others loitered in and about thevillage. For the women had all been listening to the speeches andwatching the dancers and had yet to prepare the feast which was tofollow, continuing into the night.
By himself Lone-Elk wandered from the village. Strolling down the slightdescent to the edge of the lake, he took his way along the narrow stripof sand and sod of which the beach consisted and soon was out of sight.The music and dance had recalled strongly to his mind his home among theSenecas and those earlier days before he was an exile.
An audible "Ugh" came from Lone-Elk's lips and he scowled as if out ofpatience with himself. Turning then and leaving the water's side, hepushed through some brush to the higher bank above. On this elevation hepaused, and turning about gazed carelessly over the lake. Far across itssmooth surface he could see a canoe and two young men in it.
"Palefaces," he murmured and another "Ugh," this time in a tone ofcontempt, parted his tight-set lips. For a second or two he watched thelittle craft and its occupants, then strode slowly into the forest.
A straggling half circle of perhaps a mile the Seneca's feet marked inthe freshly fallen leaves while he made his way indirectly toward thevillage. As he drew near his listless step quickened and his reflective,downcast eyes became alert and sharp. Harsh tones were rising from agroup of braves not far from him. Then his approach was noticed.
A young Delaware with only a fringed kilt and leggins covering hisnakedness, turned and pointed a finger at the Seneca menacingly, butquickly another seized the outstretched hand and pressed it down. Bythis time the approaching Indian was close at hand.
"Does Lone-Elk know of Big Buffalo?" the foremost of the Delawaresinquired. "The Seneca left the village to walk beside the water. Now hecomes back from a different direction. Does he know of Big Buffalo? Knowthat Big Buffalo is dead in the bushes that the water runs among? LittleWolf is here. Little Wolf saw Big Buffalo dead--found the Buffalo deadamong the bushes by the water--found Big Buffalo killed."