The Flamingo Feather | Page 7

erect, a proud
smile on his face, winner of the games, and Bow-bearer to his father for
a year.
Has-se had still to undergo one more test of endurance before he could
call himself a warrior, which he must be able to do ere he could assume
the duties of Bow-bearer. He must pass through the ordeal of the
Cassine, or black drink. This was a concoction prepared by the
medicine-men, of roots and leaves, from a recipe the secret of which
was most jealously guarded by them; and to drink of it was to subject
one's self to the most agonizing pains, which, however, were but of
short duration. In spite of his sufferings, the youth who drank from the
horrid bowl was expected to preserve a smiling face, nor admit by word
or sign that he was undergoing aught but the most pleasing sensations.
If he failed in this one thing, no matter what record he had previously
gained for courage or daring, he was ever afterwards condemned to
share the work of women, nor might he ever again bear arms or take
part in the chase or in war.
Immediately after his overthrow of Chitta, and while the shouts of joy
over his victory were still ringing in his ears, Has-se was led to an
elevated seat, where he could be seen of all the people, and a bowl of
the awful mixture was handed him. Without hesitation, and with a
proud glance around him, the brave youth swallowed the nauseous
draught, and then folding his arms, gazed with a smiling face upon the
assembled multitude. For fifteen minutes he sat there amid a death-like
silence, calm and unmoved, though the great beads of perspiration

rolling from his forehead showed what he was enduring. At the end of
that time a great shout from the people told him that his ordeal was
over; and, weak and faint, he was led away to a place where he might
recover in quiet from the effects of his terrible sufferings, and enjoy in
peace the first glorious thoughts that now he was indeed a Bow-bearer
and a warrior.
Réné sprang forward from his seat to seize and shake his friend's hand,
while from all, Indians as well as whites, arose shouts of joy at the
victory of the brave and much-loved lad who wore the Flamingo
Feather.
As the angry Chitta turned away from the scene of his defeat, his heart
was filled with rage at these shouts, and he muttered a deep threat of
vengeance upon all who uttered them, those of his own race as well as
the pale-faces.
CHAPTER III
CHITTA'S REVENGE
So Has-se the Sunbeam became Bow-bearer to his father, the great
chief Micco, and Chitta the Snake was disappointed of his ambition. By
some means he became convinced that Réné de Veaux had instructed
Has-se in his newly acquired trick of wrestling; and though he had no
proof of this, he conceived a bitter hatred against the white lad. He had
especially included him in his muttered threat of vengeance against all
those who greeted his final overthrow with shouts of joy; but, like the
wily reptile whose name he bore, he was content to bide his time and
await his opportunity to strike a deadly blow. After the games were
ended he disappeared, and was seen no more that day.
His absence was hardly noted, for immediately after Has-se's victory
the entire assembly repaired to the great mound which had gradually
been raised by the accumulation of shells, bones, broken pottery, and
charred wood that many generations of Indian feasters had left behind
them, and here was spread the feast of the day. Then followed dancing
and singing, which were continued far into the night.

At length the dancers became exhausted; the men who beat the drums
and rattled the terrapin shells filled with dried palmetto berries grew so
drowsy that their music sounded fainter and fainter, until it finally
ceased altogether, and by two hours after midnight the whole
encampment was buried in profound slumber. Even those whose duty it
was to stand guard dozed at their posts, and the silence of the night was
only broken by the occasional hootings of Hup-pe (the great owl).
Had the guards been awake instead of dreaming, it is possible that they
might have noticed the dark figure of a man who noiselessly and
stealthily crept amid the heavy shadows on the edge of the forest
towards the great granary, or storehouse, in which was kept all the ripe
maize of the tribe, together with much starch-root (koonti katki) and a
large quantity of yams. The granary was built of pitch-pine posts and
poles, heavily thatched with palm-leaves, that the summer suns had
dried to a tinder.
Occasionally