The Hunters of the Hills | Page 4

the Hurons, who now fight one
another, were once of the same blood."
"It is so. The old men have had it from those who were old men when
they were boys. The Mohawks in a far, far time were a clan of the
Wanedote, called in your language the Hurons, and lived where the

French have built their capital of Quebec. Thence their power spread,
and becoming a great nation themselves they separated from the
Wanedote. But many enemies attacked them and they moved to the
south, where they joined the Onondagas and Oneidas, and in time the
League of the Hodenosaunee grew up. That, though, was far, far back,
eight or ten of what the white men call generations."
"But it's interesting, tremendously so," said Robert, reflectively. "I find
that the red races and the white don't differ much. The flux and
movement have been going on always among them just as it has among
us. Races disappear, and new ones appear."
"It is so, Lennox," said Tayoga gravely, "but the League of the
Hodenosaunee is the chosen of Manitou. We, the Onundagaono, in
your language Onondagas, Keepers of the Council, the Brand and the
Wampum, know it. The power of the Long House cannot be broken.
Onundagaono, Ganeogaono, Nundawaono (Senecas), Gweugwehono
(Cayugas), Onayotekaono (Oneidas) and the new nation that we made
our brethren, Dusgaowehono (Tuscaroras), will defend it forever."
Robert glanced at him. Tayoga's nostrils expanded as he spoke, the chin
was thrown up again and his eyes flashed with a look of immeasurable
pride. White youth understood red youth. The forest could be as truly a
kingdom as cities and fields, and within the limits of his horizon
Tayoga, a coming chief of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga,
of the League of the Hodenosaunee, was as thoroughly of royal blood
as any sovereign on his throne. He and his father and his father's father
before him and others before them had heard the old men and the
women chant the prowess and invincibility of the Hodenosaunee, and
of that great league, the Onondagas, the Keepers of the Wampum, the
Brand and the Council Fire, were in Tayoga's belief first, its heart and
soul.
Robert had pride of race himself--it was a time when an ancient stock
was thought to count for much--and he was sure that the blood in his
veins was noble, but, white though he was, he did not feel any
superiority to Tayoga. Instead he paid him respect where respect was
due because, born to a great place in a great race, he was equal to it. He

understood, too, why the Hodenosaunee seemed immutable and eternal
to its people, as ancient Rome had once seemed unshakable and
everlasting to the Romans, and, understanding, he kept his peace.
The lake, slender and long, now narrowed to a width of forty or fifty
yards and curved sharply toward the east. They slowed down with
habitual caution, until they could see what lay in front of them. Robert
and Tayoga rested their paddles, and Willet sent the canoe around the
curve. The fresh reach of water was peaceful too, unruffled by the craft
of any enemy, and on either side the same lofty banks of solid green
stretched ahead. Above and beyond the cliffs rose the distant peaks and
ridges of the high mountains. The whole was majestic and magnificent
beyond comparison. Robert and Tayoga, their paddles still idle,
breathed it in and felt that Manitou, who is the same as God, had
lavished work upon this region, making it good to the eye of all men
for all time.
"How far ahead is the cove, Tayoga?" asked Willet.
"About a mile," replied the Onondaga.
"Then we'd better put in there, and look for game. We've got mighty
little venison."
"It is so," said Tayoga, using his favorite words of assent. Neither he
nor Robert resumed the paddle, leaving the work for the rest of the way
to the hunter, who was fully equal to the task. His powerful arms swept
the broad blade through the water, and the canoe shot forward at a
renewed pace. Long practice and training had made him so skillful at
the task that his breath was not quickened by the exertion. It was a
pleasure to Robert to watch the ease and power with which he did so
much.
The lake widened as they advanced, and through a change in the color
of the sky the water here seemed silver rather than blue. A flock of wild
ducks swam near the edge and he saw two darting loons, but there was
no other presence. Silence, beauty and majesty were everywhere, and
he was content to go on, without speaking, infused with the spirit of the

wilderness.
The cove