Birch Bark Legends of Niagara | Page 4

many heartfelt and anxious prayers have been sent, Niagara, to rise on thy light mist to realms above.
The Indian's simple supplication, so full of hope and faith, needed not the assistance of other creeds to be heard by his Great Manitou. And if thou dost pray sincerely for strength, Grey Eagle, unflinchingly to stand thy torture and joyfully to take thy final leap, it will be given thee.
As the dampness of night fled from before the rays of the morning sun it revealed a cooler, calmer crowd around the big wigwam.
In sight of the great waters, and almost deafened by its thundering, warning voice, Sachems, Chiefs and Warriors were quietly and orderly assembled. Directly in front were placed the securely bound prisoners, surrounded by aspiring young braves, too willing to show their skill in throwing arrows and tomahawks as near as possible to the captives' heads, delighting the dusky children, who with the women formed the outside circle.
For several minutes the pipe, with the sweet-scented kinny-kinick, was passed from one to another in silence. Not a word escaped them, the Chiefs viewing with each other in betraying no symptom of idle curiosity or impatience. At length a Chief turned his eyes slowly towards the old Sachem, and in a low voice, with great delicacy in excluding all inquisitiveness, addressed him:
"Our father sent us the wampum; we are here, when our father speaks his childrens' ears are open,"--again resuming the pipe with due and becoming solemnity.
After a moment's silence, during which the children even became mute, the Sachem arose with dignity and commenced his brief story in a solemn, serious manner, becoming himself and the occasion.
"'Tis well; my childrens' ears shall drink no lies. Their brothers have been on the war-path. The Great Manitou smiled on the young brave; sent him back with fresh trophies and prisoners; not one escaped. The Great Manitou has also frowned on his people, hushed their song of triumph, sent them back to their tribe crying, 'where is the great War Chief, the nation's pride?' Do my sons see or hear the War Eagle in the wigwam of his people? No; he came not back; the Manitou needed him; he has gone to the Happy Hunting Ground; our eyes are dim; we shall see him no more. Who will lead the young braves on the war-path? Who will protect the wigwams, the women, children, and old men? Let my children speak, their father will listen."
With the last words all excitement seemed to pass from him, and the face of Great Oak assumed that immovable expression which rendered it so impossible to surmise what really were his thoughts or wishes. The murmuring wails of the women in remembrance of War-Eagle and the threatening tomahawks that were shaken at the prisoners, all ceased as slowly the first Chief again rose to speak.
"Let our brother, the young brave who followed where War Eagle led, and returned with prisoners and trophies to appease his mourning people--let the Black Snake speak, that we may know how to counsel our father."
[Illustration: BLACK SNAKE.]
The eyes of the young warrior thus alluded to flashed with fierce delight--his nostrils dilated with strong emotion. Passing with a haughty stride in front of the Chiefs, displaying to all the bloody trophies at his side, without dignity or feeling, but in an excited, vindictive manner, he gave an exaggerated account of the foe and the battle; spoke of the loss of the War Eagle; called on the young braves to help revenge his death, swinging his tomahawk around the heads of the prisoners, counting the scalps he had torn from the heads of their people, forcing them in their faces with malignant pleasure, and calling them women, who would cry when their tortures commenced. He said he only waited to attend the joyful dance before going on the war-path to avenge more fully the death of their Chief and earn the right to have a wigwam. He howled his fierce demands for an opportunity to show his willingness to execute the sentence the Chiefs should pass upon the prisoners. Then, adroitly pleading his youth, he said he would not ask to lead the braves on the war-path--he would follow where some braver one would lead. Throwing the string of scalps among the crowd, he said the women might have them to hang on their lodges--he was too young to carry them. Feeling he had made sufficient impression of his bravery to leave the decision in the hands of the Chiefs, without noticing his triumph in the applauding multitude, his fiery eyes rolled proudly from Chief to Chief. He passed with a haughty step before the Sachem, who had several times rather depreciated his bravery, rejoicing in this public opportunity of boasting a little before the Chiefs, evidently thinking