the sun was already well above the horizon, but the light that stole through door and smoke-hole struggled unsuccessfully with the gloom of the council house. from my seat of honor opposite the doorway i could make out only a few of the silent figures of royanehs and chieftains sitting in concentric circles around the pit in which burned the tribal council fire of the senecas. but as i watched, the direct rays of the sun crept over the earthen threshold, and donehogaweh, sitting at my left, extended his sinewy arm and dropped a handful of tobacco leaves upon the smoldering coals in the fire-pit. a single column of smoke, hazily blue, rose straight in the air, and the acrid odor of the tobacco permeated the room.

"oh, hawenneyo," intoned the guardian of the western door, "and you, tharon, the sky-holder, and heno, master of the thunder, and gaoh, lord of the winds, you too, oh, three sisters of the deohako, our supporters, and the honochenokeh, aids of the great spirit and ministers of his mercy, heed our prayer! open your ears to the words we send you by the smoke which rises from our council fire!"

he cast aside his skin robe of ceremony, and stood erect in his place, naked except for breechclout and moccasins, his gaunt body as straight as a youth's, his voice ringing with the virility that defies age. he folded his arms upon his chest. his face was raised to the smoke-hole in the roof.

"we are sending forth upon a journey three of our young men. they have far to go. it may be that they will trespass upon forbidden ground. we beseech that you will deal gently with them. if they may go no further, turn their steps aside, and lead them elsewhere. they are not foolishly curious. they seek to redress a wrong and to learn what is in store for their people. that is all.

"we show them to you, now, before the people."

he signaled me to rise, and i swung food-bags in place and stood beside him, leaning on my musket.

"this is otetiani, my white son. he is a brave warrior, oh, hawenneyu. his mind is clouded by a great sorrow. take it from him, and let him return to live out his life in comfort."

corlaer rose.

"this is corlaer, my white brother. he is a big man, oh, hawenneyu, and he has a big belly. but if his strength is great, he can subdue his hunger. he is a good friend and a terrible enemy."

tawannears rose.

"this is tawannears, born of the clan of the wolf, warden of the door. he is the son of my sister. in him flows all that is left of my blood. he goes to fill an empty place in his heart. if it be wise, oh, hawenneyu, grant him what he seeks.

"na-ho!"

and from the circles of indistinct figures came a muttered chorus—

"yo-hay!"

donehogaweh turned to us as we stood by the fire-pit whence the smoke had ceased to rise.

"you are going upon a long journey," he said gravely. "perhaps many enemies will assail you. perhaps you will know great danger. perhaps you will be faced by death. but i charge you, do not show fear. if you return with the scalps of all who oppose you, we will be proud of you. we will dance for you the wasaseh, the war dance. if you do not return at all, we will remember you, and the women shall teach the children to honor your memories. but do not return to us unless you can boast of all that you have done, and be ashamed of nothing.

"na-ho!"

he caught up his skin-robe and draped it around his shoulders as he led us from the council house, the assemblage of royanehs and chiefs crowding after us through the narrow door. in the flat, hard-beaten dancing place outside, the center of the wide-spreading seneca village of deonundagaa, stood hundreds of warriors, women, and leaping, scrambling children. they stretched from the door to the gaondote, or war-post, its charred, splintered stump rising in the center of the open space, around which were ranked the ganasotes, or long houses, in which the people dwelt, and from which they took their name.

most of them were only idly curious, friendly, but with no personal interest. but many who knew us pressed forward for a last, informal word before we left. guanaea, wife of donehogaweh—i dislike the debased word squaw, which is inept for a people like the iroquois, who rate their women far higher than we do—snatched at my hand, her kindly, capable glance examining my equipment. the deerskin garments i wore had been fashioned by her. she had prepared the provender of jerked meat and mixed charred corn and maple-sugar which filled my food-bags. she had contrived my barken box of coarse salt. and she had done as much for tawannears and corlaer, too.

"good-by, otetiani, my white son," she said, with tears in her eyes. "may hawenneyu have you in his keeping! i have no son of my body to tell me brave tales of what he has done, and you know that you are doubly dear to me. you must do as tawannears and corlaer when the snow flies and rub yourself with bear's grease. it is good at all times, and you should learn to like it. and do not bathe so often. hanegoategeh, the evil spirit, is always on the watch to send ills to those who rub their skins. but here!"

she took a small pouch of deerskin from her breast and hung it around my neck by a strip of rawhide.

"that will protect you against all evils! keep it always on you."

"what is it?" i asked, slipping it inside my leather shirt.

"a most powerful orenda," she whispered mysteriously. "i had it made by hineogetah, the medicine man. it is proof against spirits and bullets. it will turn a scalping-knife and resist a tomahawk."

"but what is it?" i persisted.

she looked around to make sure that nobody was within hearing distance. donehogaweh was holding a final discussion with tawannears, and the interest of the crowd was concentrated upon them.

"the fang of a bull rattlesnake," she said, ticking the items off on her fingers. "that is the spirit to resist evil. the eye-tooth of a wolf that was slain by sonosowa of the turtle clan, for, of course, no wolf could slay a wolf, in act of making his kill. that is the spirit to resist courage. a coal from the ever-burning fire at onondago. that is the spirit to resist disease. it is the most powerful orenda that hineogetah has ever made, and i pray that it will keep you safe, for i think you will need it, otetiani, a white man venturing into the land of lost souls, where the wrath of tharon may fall at any moment."

"but what of corlaer?" i asked, amused as well as touched by this essentially feminine point of view.

"oh, he is different!" she said.

i would have said more to her, but tawannears turned from his uncle and slung his furled buckskin shirt across his naked shoulders.

"come, brother," he called to me. "we must go."

i stooped quickly and kissed guanaea on her wrinkled cheek. she drew back, startled, and raised her hand to the spot my lips had touched.

"what is that, otetiani?" she asked, bewildered.

"it is the way a white son salutes his mother," i answered.

"do it again," she commanded.

i did, to the stern amusement of donehogaweh and his attendant royanehs.

"i like it," she said. "it is a good son who gives his mother such pleasure. surely, hawenneyu will send you back to me."

"if his orenda is strong and his valor great, he will return," declared donehogaweh. "but there has been enough of leavetaking. a warrior's strength should not be sapped by sorrow before he takes the war-trail. good-by, otetiani, my son. good-by, corlaer, my brother. good-by, tawannears, son of my sister. we await your return with honor."

he raised his right arm in the gesture of farewell. a thicket of arms sprang up in the dancing place and we acknowledged the salute in kind. then, without a word, tawannears turned his back and walked southward through the village. i walked after him, and corlaer came behind me. not a voice was raised to shout after us. not a call came from the surrounding houses. i looked back once—as no indian would have done—and saw the assemblage standing immobile, donehogaweh, with his robe wrapped around him, his eyes fastened upon us, his face emotionless. even guanaea stood now like a statue. then we came to the forest wall, and deonundagaa became a thing of roof-tops, occasionally glimpsed through the thickening screen of greenery.

the trail was the usual indian footway, a stamped-out slot, a groove just wide enough for a man to pass, worn in the floor and hacked through the body of the wilderness. we traversed it in silence, each, i suppose, immersed in his thoughts. for the most part, i fixed my eyes upon the sliding muscles of tawannears' back, rippling so smoothly under his oiled skin, his effortless stride carrying him ahead at a steady dog-trot. behind me i could hear the grunting of corlaer and the crackle of branches his broad shoulders pushed against—and by that i knew that we were in absolutely safe country, for the big dutchman could be as quiet and as agile with his mountainous bulk as tawannears, himself.

my mind turned to the day, three weeks past, that these two had reëntered my life, after years of separation, and lifted me at once by the clean ardor of their personalities out of the miasma of sickening thoughts in which grief had immersed me.

much had happened since then. hasty adjustments of my business; last-minute conferences with the governor and several merchants, members of his council, who had generously volunteered to take over the conduct of my affairs; drilling of john allen in various niceties of the situation; the voyage up hudson's river by sloop to albany, huddled under the protection of fort orange below the mouth of the mohawk, our main outpost on the frontier; a fortnight on the great trail of the long house; flitting meetings with old friends; the aroma of the forest; longer and longer hours of sleep; deonundagaa and—this.

i tossed back my head and inhaled the scent of the wild grapevine that twisted around a giant oak, and my eyes took joy from the mottling of the sunlight drifting through foliage a hundred feet overhead and the scuttling of a rabbit across the trail. we passed a beaver-pond, and i drew a lesson in steadfast courage from the tireless endurance of these small creatures, forever building and never dismayed by the most arduous undertaking.

three weeks! and already i saw myself in prospect of a whole man again. i straightened with the thought, and took pride in my instant ability to adjust myself to the indian's trail pace. tawannears gave me a quick smile over his shoulder.

"my brother's heart is glad," he said. "i can tell by the lightness of his step."

"truly, i feel as i had never thought to feel again," i returned. "who would choose to live in a town if he might roam the forest at will? and the day is passing fair."

"oof!" grunted corlaer behind me. "it grows hot."

we made thirty miles that day, and camped with some seneca hunters who shared their fresh venison with us. in the morning we continued on our way, still heading south for the headwaters of the alleghany river.

"for the route we take," said tawannears, in discussing the journey, "the word of my brother otetiani shall be law. he has a mission to perform for gaengwarago. but if you will listen to me you will strike south to the alleghany, and follow that into the ohio, which, in turn, flows into the great river that my people call the father of waters. this way, brother, we shall fetch a wide compass around the french post at detroit, and come near enough vincennes for you to look at it if you wish. but it will be better for you if the french do not see you or hear of your mission."

"that is true," i admitted. "but for your plan we must have a canoe."

"i can find one," he answered readily. "i cached it on the alleghany the last time i returned from an embassy to the creeks."

we settled our route according to tawannears' advice. traveling by water, as he also pointed out, meant on the whole a much better rate of progress than land travel, and likewise made it unnecessary for us to traverse so many tribal ranges. tawannears, as a war chief of the iroquois, was fairly certain of respectful treatment at the hands of any well-known tribe north of the ohio and east of the mississippi. but many of these indians had fallen under the influence of the french, and it was questionable what attitude they might adopt if they discovered who i was. it was safest for all concerned to pass as swiftly and quietly as possible through the country this side of the mississippi. we have nothing to gain by lingering, and perhaps everything to lose.

the second day we had no beaten trail to aid us, and a cold rain pelted from the east. the country was seamed with shallow ravines and gulleys, and at intervals we came to dense belts of undergrowth, spurred with thorns and bound together by vines and creepers. sometimes we circled these patches. sometimes we hacked a path with our war-hatchets. we were exhausted when night fell, and welcomed the shelter offered us by a party of wandering mohicans; but in the morning we took up the trail, despite the recurring rain. slippery rocks and ankle-deep mud delayed us. the coarse grass of the occasional swales was treacherous underfoot. but we kept on. and i was amazed to discover that the weather had no effect upon my spirits. i enjoyed the independence of it, the sopping foliage, the persistent drip-drip of the rain, the fatigue that strained every muscle. more than all i enjoyed our third camp beneath a bark lean-to hastily contrived. the roof leaked; our fire lasted barely long enough to cook the wild turkey our mohican hosts had given us; and i was soaked to the skin. yet i slept through the night to awaken alert and refreshed in the bright dawning of a new day.

in the forenoon tawannears made his landfall on a tiny creek that fed the headwaters of the alleghany. we reached the main stream in mid-afternoon, and with one curt glance around, he walked straight to a grass-covered indentation in the bank.

"here is the canoe, brothers," he said casually.

"nein," corlaer, without moving from where he stood, his little eyes fixed on the hiding-place.

tawannears drew back from the edge of the inlet, a startled look on his usually blank face.

"here i left it, well-concealed," he insisted.

"smoke, down-rifer," remarked the dutchman.

tawannears and i shifted our gaze. the seneca's eyes reflected a momentary expression of chagrin that he should not have been the first to mark this sign.

"we will go to it," he announced briefly. "this land is tributary to the long house. we shall see who is bold enough to take the canoe of a chief of the long house from the threshold of the western door."

of course, he was speaking figuratively, for we were a long three days' tramping from deonundagaa; but it was a striking manifestation of the proud arrogance of the iroquois that tawannears, an indian to his backbone, insisted upon walking directly into that encampment, without going to the preliminaries of scouting the strange community.

a half-grown boy sighted us through the trees while we were still some distance away, and his shrill cries gave the alarm. as we stepped from the edge of the forest, a dozen men grouped in front of the four bark shelters that stood just back from the bank. in the offing i perceived half as many women and some children. they were a dark, stumpy people, with low-browed, brutish faces.

tawannears frowned and pointed to a canoe drawn up on the bank.

"andastes," he spat contemptuously. "they are dogs and thieves who have no right here. the hoyarnagowar has bidden them range in the susquehanna valley."

musket in the hollow of his arm, he marched into the center of the dour group, every member of which clutched a fusil, trade musket or strung bow.

"andastes," he said, "you have taken my canoe."

"we have only our own canoe," answered a thick-limbed warrior, who was out-thrust from the dingy throng.

"i say it is mine," returned tawannears with haughty emphasis.

"you are welcome to camp here if you wish; we will give you food," said the andaste evasively.

tawannears' eyes sparked fire.

"dog of an andaste!" he barked. "who are you to speak as a master to the hodenosaunee? you crawl when the word comes to you from onondaga! you eat dirt if a warrior of the long house commands it! you are the fathers of all lice!"

the andastes scowled and bunched closer together, with a tentative poising of weapons. tawannears drew his tomahawk and held it aloft.

"i am tawannears, warden of the western door," he said slowly. "i am fresh come from deonundagaa. say which it is to be, andastes, peace or war?"

they shrank away from him. all save two or three disappeared into the lodges or the forest. but they had no thought of violence. the heart was taken out of them. tawannears was more than tawannears. he was the embodiment of that dread power which these inferior savages knew could carry annihilation in any direction and almost to any distance north, south and west. he stood there, ax upraised, the spirit of the long house, which even the white men feared.

the andaste chief lowered his eyes.

"we do not want war," he answered. "take the canoe. we found it. we did not know——"

"you know that you have no rights here," tawannears cut him off. "this is the hunting ground of the long house. here, too, may come mohicans, eries and the people of the cat.* but andastes belong in the susquehanna valley. get back there. if i find you here when i pass this way again, i will carry fire and tomahawk against you and all your people."

* jegosasa, sometimes called neuter nation.

he turned on his heel, and with a gesture to us, stalked down to the shore and pushed the canoe into the water.

"let us go on, brothers," he urged. "here the air is unclean."

he took the bow paddle, and i crouched amidships. corlaer, gentle as a girl for all his bulk, slipped gingerly into the stern. their blades bit into the shallow water, and under the impulse of those slow, easy strokes, the light craft fairly danced downstream, gaining speed as it caught the drift of the current. we rounded a curve, and the andaste encampment disappeared from view.

"will they obey you?" i asked tawannears.

he laughed shortly.

"they will be gone before the sun rises again, brother otetiani. they know well that they have no right there, but the place is out of the way and far from the door, and they thought they would be safe. they are a nation of women. we do not even let them fight for us."

paddling was very different work from wood-ranging, and we made ten miles before darkness compelled us to land on a miniature island and pitch camp in the lee of a big rock. we had a small fire so arranged that its glow could not be seen from either shore, and beside it we slept under the stars. with the dawn we were up and afloat once more, munching the burnt corn and maple-sugar from our food-sacks.

this day i observed that tawannears seemed to redouble his vigilance. from his position in the bow he studied the shore-line constantly, and in the afternoon he halted an hour before daylight failed, to take advantage of an opportunity to camp upon another island.

"why so careful?" i grumbled. "do you think these andastes may be tracking us, after all!"

he shook his head, smiling.

"no, brother, but we are entering a country where the long house is feared, but where its word is no longer law. anywhere here we may meet bands of young warriors of a score of tribes who have taken advantage of the spring hunting to look for their first scalps. they would see in us only three victims for killing."

but despite—or it may be because of—our vigilance, we saw no trace of other men, save once when making a portage around some rapids. as we were in the act of relaunching our canoe three other craft, each containing three red warriors, rounded the next bend downstream. we waited for them, arms ready. but they made the sign of peaceful intent as they approached, and we held our fire. they were cherokees, fine, tall men, very much like the iroquois, and they told us frankly that they were an embassy carrying belts to detroit they said their people were having trouble with the colonists in the carolinas and they desired to take steps to establish an alliance with the french.

"the french are no different from the english, brothers," replied tawannears. "they are both asseroni.* they are both white. we are red. there are white men who understand the indian. two are my brothers here. but they have few among their race who agree with them. you go upon a hopeless errand. the french will make you promises. they will give you arms, and use you when it suits their ends, and when they have no use for you they will let you go to the stake."

* ax-makers.

the cherokees, squatting in a half-circle on the shore facing us and the beached canoes, exchanged uneasy glances.

"then what does our brother of the hodenosaunee advise?" asked the oldest chief. "what policy do his people pursue to uphold themselves? they are directly between french and english. if there is no help from one or the other, what is the indian to do?"

"the hodenosaunee maintain their place by strength," replied tawannears. "they have made their help worthwhile to the english. but the time will come, brothers, when the english will no longer need us, when the white man's firewater has debauched our young men, when so many white men have come over the great water that they will outnumber the indian. then the indian must go."

"where?" demanded the cherokee.

tawannears waved his arm down-stream.

"brothers," he said, "i journey to find what lies betwixt this and the sunset—and beyond. it may be that hawenneyu has set aside a country for the red man that the white man cannot take."

"if the red man gives ground forever, then surely the white man will drive him out," declared the cherokee.

"true," agreed tawannears. "and if the red men united together, the white man could never drive them out. your brothers, the tuscaroras, came north in my father's time, driven from their homes by the same white men who now harass you. we of the hodenosaunee took them into our league, and now they are safe. the walls of the long house protect them. perhaps the hoyarnagowar would decree a lengthening of the walls if the cherokees desired to enter the league."

"yes, as younger brothers to sit outside the fire circle, without casting votes in the council of royanehs," returned the cherokee with passionate emphasis. "that is what happened to the tuscaroras. they are dependents of the hodenosaunee. we cherokees are a great people. shall we lose ourselves in the fabric of the long house?"

tawannears emptied the ashes from his pipe and rose.

"my brother has pointed the reason why the red man cannot stand against the white man," he said quietly. "outside of the long house the powerful tribes will not hold together. the hodenosaunee can conquer people like the eries or the mohicans, but we see no interest in conquering the cherokees—and if we did not conquer you, you would not join with us."

"because we might not join you as equals!" the cherokee retorted hotly.

"there is no question of equality or inequality," asserted tawannears. "but the founders of the great league created only so many royanehs, and we who follow in their footsteps may not correct their work. go to onondaga with your belts, and tododaho, the greatest of our royanehs, who warms his mind by the everlasting fire, will make your hearts strong with wise talk. let him tell you, better than i can, how to unite for strength."

the cherokee rose with a stern light of resentment in his face.

"we go to detroit," he said. "better be allies of the frenchman, and play one race of white man against the other, than be slaves of the hodenosaunee."

tawannears did not answer him and was silent until we had paddled an hour or more.

"what did you think of our talk, brother otetiani?" he asked suddenly, peering over his shoulder at me.

"i thought that you were right," i answered.

"i am so sure i am right that i can see the whole future of the red man," he cried. "he will perish because he cannot break down his tribal barriers."

"der frenchman, too," spoke up corlaer behind me.

i turned in mingled amusement and surprise. it was seldom he used more than monosyllables.

"ja," he continued, "der englishman, he takes in all, dutch, swede, cherman, frenchman. but der frenchman, he is der frenchman. der englishman he comes on top. he-mixes. ja."