The Little Red Foot Part 35

"The Saguenays are free people," said I. "The Yellow Leaf is free as is his clan ensign, the Hawk. Brother, go in peace!"

And I motioned my people forward.

Our flankers, who, keeping stations, had waited, now started on again, the Water-snake running swiftly to his post on the extreme right flank.

After ten minutes' silent and swift advance, Thiohero came lightly to my side on the trail.

"Brother," she whispered, "was it well considered to let loose that Tree-eating rover in our rear?"

"Would the Oneida take such a wretched trophy as that poor hunter's tangled scalp?"

"_Neah._ Yet, I ask again, was it wisdom to let him loose, who, for a mouthful of parched corn, might betray us to the Mengwe?"

"Poor devil, he means no harm to anybody."

"_Then why does he skulk after us?_"

Startled, I turned and caught a glimpse of something slinking on the ridge between our flankers; but was instantly rea.s.sured because no living thing could dog us without discovery from the rear. And presently I did see the Screech-owl run forward and hurl a clod of moss into the thicket; and the Saguenay broke cover like a scared dog, running perdue so that he came close to Hanatoh, who flung a stick at him.

That was too much for me; and, as the Tree-eater bolted past me, I seized him.

"Come," said I, dragging him along, "what the devil do you want of us?

Did I not bid you go in peace?"

Thiohero caught him by the other arm, and he panted some jargon at her.

"Koue!" she exclaimed, and her long, sweet whistle of the Canada sparrow instantly halted us in our tracks, flankers, rearguard, and all.

Thiohero, still holding the Saguenay by his lean, muscular arm, spoke sharply to him in his jargon; then, at his reply, looked up at me with the flaming eyes of a lynx.

"Brother," said she, "this Montagnais hunter has given an account that the Maquas have prepared an ambuscade, knowing we are on the Great Trail."

I said, coolly: "What reason does the Saguenay give for returning to us with such a tale?"

"He says," she replied, "that we only, of all Iroquois or white men he has ever encountered, have treated him like a man and not as an unclean beast.

"He says that my white brother has told him he is a man, and that if this is true he will act as real men act.

"He says he desires to be painted upon the breast with a little red foot, and wishes to go into battle with us. And," she added navely, "to an Oneida this seems very strange that a Saguenay can be a real man!"

"Paint him," said I, smiling at the Saguenay.

But no Oneida would touch him. So, while he stripped to the clout and began to oil himself from the flask of gun-oil I offered, I got from him, through Thiohero, all he had noticed of the ambuscade prepared for us, and into which he himself had run headlong in his flight from the stones and insults of the Mohawks at the Big Eddy.

While he was thus oiling himself, Luysnes shaved his head with his hunting blade, leaving a lock to be braided. Then, very quickly, I took blue paint from Thiohero and made on the fellow's chest a hawk. And, with red paint, under this I made a little red foot, then painted his fierce, thin features as the girl directed, moving a dainty finger hither and thither but never touching the Saguenay.

To me she said disdainfully, in English: "My brother John, this is a wild wolf you take hunting with you, and not a hound. The Saguenays are real wolves and not to be tamed by white men or Iroquois. And like a lone wolf he will run away in battle. You shall see, brother John."

"I hope not, little sister."

"You shall see," she repeated, her pretty lip curling as Luysnes began to braid the man's scalp-lock. "You think him a warrior, now, because he is oiled and wears war paint and lock. But I tell you he is only a wild Montagnais hunter. Warriors are not made with a word."

"Sometimes men are," said I pleasantly.

The girl came closer to me, looked up into my face with unfeigned curiosity.

"What manner of white man are you, John?" she asked. "For you speak like a preacher, yet you wear no skirt and cross, as do the priests of the Praying Indians."

"Little sister," said I, taking both her hands, "I am only a young man going into battle for the first time; and I have yet to fire my first shot in anger. If my white and red brothers--and if you, little sister--do full duty this day, then we shall be happy, living or dead.

For only those who do their best can look the Holder of Heaven in the face."

She gave me a strange glance; our hands parted. I gave the Canada-sparrow call in the minor key--as often the bird whistles--and, at the signal, all my scouts came creeping in.

"We cross West River here," said I, "and go by the left bank in the same order of march, crossing the shoulder of the mountain by the Big Eddy, then fording the river once more, so as to take their ambuscade from the north and in the rear."

They seemed to understand. The Montagnais, in his new paint, came around behind me like some savage dog that trusts only his owner. And I saw my Oneidas eyeing him as though of two minds whether to ignore him or sink a hatchet into his narrow skull.

"Who first sights a Mohawk," said I, "shall not fire or try to take a scalp to satisfy his own vanity and his desire for glory. No. He shall return to me and report what he sees. For it is my business to order the conduct of this battle.... March!"

We had forded West River, crept over the mountain's shoulder, recrossed the river roaring between its rounded and giant bowlders, and now were creeping southward toward the Big Eddy.

Already I saw ahead of me the brook that dashes into that great crystal-green pool, where, in happier days, I have angled for those huge trout that always lurk there.

And now I caught a glimpse of the pool itself, spreading out between forested sh.o.r.es. But the place was still as death; not a living thing nor any sign of one was to be seen there--not a trace of a fire, nor of any camp filth, nor a canoe, nor even a broken fern.

Moment after moment, I studied the place, sh.o.r.e and slope and hollow.

Tahioni, flat on his belly in the Great Trail, lay listening and looking up the slope, where our Saguenay had warned us Death lay waiting.

The Water-snake slowly shook his head and cast a glance of fierce suspicion at the Montagnais, who lay beside me, grasping his sorry trade-rifle, his slitted gaze of a snake fixed on the forest depths ahead.

Suddenly, Nick caught my arm in a nervous grasp, and "My G.o.d!" says he, "what is that in the tree--in the great hemlock yonder?"

And now we began to see their sharpshooters as we crawled forward, standing upright on limbs amid the foliage of great evergreens, to scan the trail ahead and the forest aisles below--these Mohawk panthers that would slay from above.

Under them, hidden close to the ground, lay their comrades on either side of the little ravine, through which the trail ran. We could not see them, but we never doubted they were there.

Four of their tree-cat scouts were visible: I made the sign; our rifles crashed out. And, thump! slap! thud! crash! down came their dead a-sprawling and bouncing on the dead leaves. And up rose their astounded comrades from every hollow, bush and windfall, only to drop flat at our rifles' crack, and no knowing if we had hit any among them.

A veil of smoke lay low among the ferns in front of us. There was a terrible silence in the forest, then screech on screech rent the air, as the panther slogan rang out from our unseen foes; and, like a dreadful echo, my Oneidas hurled their war cry back at them; and we all sprang to our feet and moved swiftly forward, crouching low in our own rifle smoke.

There came a shot, and a cloud spread among the boughs of a tall hemlock; but the fellow left his tree and slid down on t'other side, like a squirrel, and my wild Saguenay was after him in a flash.

I saw the Oneidas looking on as though stupefied; saw the Saguenay, shoulder deep in witch-hopple, seize something, heard the mad struggle, and ran forward with Tahioni, only to hear the yelping scalp-cry of the Montagnais, and see him in the tangle of witch-hopple, both knees on his victim's shoulders, ripping off the scalp, his arms and body spattered with blood.

The stupefaction of the Oneidas lasted but a second, then their battle yell burst out in jealous fury indescribable.