The Shadow of the North | Page 2

but his chief
devotion, by the decree of nature was for his own people, and now, that
fighting in the forest had occurred between the rival nations, he shed
more of the white ways and became a true son of the wilderness, seeing
as red men saw and thinking as red men thought.
He was bent over a little, as he walked slowly among the bushes, in the
position of one poised for instant flight or pursuit as the need might be.
His eyes, black and piercing, ranged about incessantly, nothing
escaping a vision so keen and trained so thoroughly that he not only
heard everything passing in the wilderness, but he knew the nature of
the sound, and what had made it.
The kindly look that distinguished Tayoga in repose had disappeared.
Unnumbered generations were speaking in him now, and the Indian,
often so gentle in peace, had become his usual self, stern and
unrelenting in war. His strong sharp chin was thrust forward. His cheek
bones seemed to be a little higher. His tread was so light that the grass
scarcely bent before his moccasins, and no leaves rustled. He was in
every respect the wilderness hunter and warrior, fitted perfectly by the
Supreme Hand into his setting, and if an enemy appeared now he
would fight as his people had fought for centuries, and the customs and
feelings of the new races that had come across the ocean would be
nothing to him.
A hundred yards more, and he sat down by the trunk of a great oak,
convinced that no foe was near. His own five splendid senses had told
him so, and the fact had been confirmed by an unrivaled sentinel
hidden among the leaves over his head, a small bird that poured forth a

wonderful volume of song. Were any other coming the bird would
cease his melody and fly away, but Tayoga felt that this tiny feathered
being was his ally and would not leave because of him. The song had
wonderful power, too, soothing his senses and casting a pleasing spell.
His imaginative mind, infused with the religion and beliefs of his
ancestors, filled the forest with friendly spirits. Unseen, they hovered in
the air and watched over him, and the trees, alive, bent protecting
boughs toward him. He saw, too, the very spot in the heavens where the
great shining star on which Tododaho lived came out at night and
glittered.
He remembered the time when he had gone forth in the dusk to meet
Tandakora and his friends, and how Tododaho had looked down on
him with approval. He had found favor in the sight of the great league's
founder, and the spirit that dwelt on the shining star still watched over
him. The Ojibway, whom he hated and who hated him in yet greater
measure, might be somewhere in the forest, but if he came near, the
feathered sentinel among the leaves over his head would give warning.
Tayoga sat nearly half an hour listening to the song of the bird. He had
no object in remaining there, his errand bade him move on, but there
was no hurry and he was content merely to breathe and to feel the glory
and splendor of the forest about him. He knew now that the Indian
nature had never been taken out of him by the schools. He loved the
wilderness, the trees, the lakes, the streams and all their magnificent
disorder, and war itself did not greatly trouble him, since the legends of
the tribes made it the natural state of man. He knew well that he was in
Tododaho's keeping, and, if by chance, the great chief should turn
against him it would be for some grave fault, and he would deserve his
punishment.
He sat in that absolute stillness of which the Indian by nature and
training was capable, the green of his tanned and beautifully soft
deerskin blending so perfectly with the emerald hue of the foliage that
the bird above his head at last took him for a part of the forest itself and
so, having no fear, came down within a foot of his head and sang with
more ecstasy than ever. It was a little gray bird, but Tayoga knew that

often the smaller a bird was, and the more sober its plumage the finer
was its song. He understood those musical notes too. They expressed
sheer delight, the joy of life just as he felt it then himself, and the
kinship between the two was strong.
The bird at last flew away and the Onondaga heard its song dying
among the distant leaves. A portion of the forest spell departed with it,
and Tayoga, returning to thoughts of his task, rose and walked on,
instinct