The War Chief of the Six Nations | Page 3

Molly Brant, Joseph's elder
sister, a lively, winsome girl of sixteen years. During the manoeuvres a
field-officer rode by, mounted on a spirited steed. As he passed, Molly

asked if she might get up behind. The officer, thinking it a bit of banter,
said she might. In an instant she had sprung upon the crupper. Away
went the steed, flying about the field. Molly clung tight to the officer,
her blanket flapping in the breeze and her dark hair floating wide.
Every one burst into merriment, and no one enjoyed the spectacle more
than Colonel William Johnson himself. A flame of love for Molly was
kindled in his heart, and, being a widower, he took her home and made
her his bride after the Indian fashion. It would seem quite natural, then,
that the superintendent should be interested in the career of Molly's
brother Joseph. Born, as the young redskin was, of princely stock, he
might, with such an advantage, be expected to attain to honour and
dignity among the people of the Long House. There was, however, one
obstacle; although Joseph's father was a chief, he did not inherit rank,
for it was the custom of the Six Nations to trace descent through the
blood of the mother, and his mother, who had brought him over hill and
water from the banks of the Ohio, was of humble origin. If Joseph
wished, therefore, to rise among his fellows, he must hew out his own
path to greatness. By pluck and wisdom alone could he win a lasting
place in the hearts of his people. As we tell his story, we shall see how
he gathered strength and became a man of might and of valour.
CHAPTER II
BATTLE OF LAKE GEORGE
No one delighted more in the free and easy life of the frontier than did
Colonel William Johnson. He was a typical colonial patroon, a
representative of the king and a friend of the red man. The Indians
trusted him implicitly. He had studied their character and knew well
their language. He entered into their life with full sympathy for their
traditions and was said to possess an influence over them such as had
never been gained by any other white man. For a long time he lived at
Fort Johnson, a three-storey dwelling of stone on the left bank of the
Mohawk, and later at Johnson Hall, a more spacious mansion several
miles farther north. Here all who came were treated with a lavish hand,
and the wayfarer found a welcome as he stopped to admire the flowers
which grew before the portals. Within were a retinue of servants,

careful for the needs of all. When hearts were sad or time went slowly,
a dwarf belonging to the household played a merry tune on his violin to
drive away gloom from the wilderness mansion.
On one occasion, however, Johnson's hospitality was taxed beyond all
bounds. This was at Fort Johnson in the year 1755, just after he had
been made a major-general in the colonial militia. The French from
Canada had already been making bold encroachments on territory
claimed by the English to the north and the west. They had erected Fort
Duquesne at the junction of the Alleghany and Monongahela rivers,
where the great city of Pittsburgh now stands; they had fortified
Niagara; and now they were bidding defiance to all the English
colonists between the Alleghany Mountains and the sea. War had not
been declared in Europe, but the inhabitants of the Thirteen Colonies,
only too eager to stay the hand of France in America, planned a series
of blows against the enemy. Among other things, they decided that an
attempt should be made to capture the French stronghold of Fort
Frederic at Crown Point on Lake Champlain. The officer selected to
Command the expedition to be sent on this enterprise was William
Johnson, now a major-general of the colony of New York.
It flashed at once across Johnson's mind that his redskin friends could
aid him in the undertaking; so he sent messages with all speed to the
tribes, asking them to gather at his house. Eleven hundred hungry
Indians answered the summons. From all quarters they came in, taking
up their residence for the time being upon his broad domain. Johnson's
bright and genial face clouded as he looked upon the multitude of
guests and saw his food supplies vanishing and every green thing that
grew upon his fields and meadows being plucked up. But he bore it all
good-naturedly, for he was determined to win their support. Seated on
the grass in squads, according to their tribes, they listened while he
addressed them and told them of their duties to the English crown.
With rising eloquence he said that they were bound in their