Chapter 3
"The Fawn's ears have been open; her feet will not be slow; she will follow the hidden path, until she reaches the great rocks of the hill. The Fawn will do as her brother tells her. The Swaying Reed is waiting for Black Snake."
And ere the day songsters had finished their sweet melody, or the wish-ton-wish [Footnote: Whippoorwill.] had yet commenced its evening song, the half frightened Indian maid had hid herself near the summit of the hill, under foliage so dense, she felt not the fast falling dew, as breathless she waited the coming steps. From her safe hiding place she saw the white plume of Grey Eagle waving over his happy, excited face, as with his light elastic step he appeared first; erect and tall like the cedars around him. Next came her father whose wrinkled countenance, softened with paternal care and watchfulness, had long lost the fierceness and native fire of his youth, followed closely by his chiefs. He passed slowly along the trail, hardly daring to raise his eyes, it being the death warrant to whomsoever they should fall upon. Suddenly the bushes parted and the Fawn bounded into her father's arms. To accurately describe the agony of this scene would be impossible; consternation for a moment held them spell-bound; horror was pictured in faces so long trained to conceal the workings of the mind, and for the first time the Fawn remained uncaressed in her father's arms. Astonished and grieved she turned to Grey Eagle; the light had fled from his face, and his soul apparently; he seemed petrified and lifeless as the rock he stood upon. Even the poor wolf, missing his usual attention, or from some inexplicable cause, commenced to howl pitifully as he leaped from one to another.
The spell was broken by a young chief not old enough yet to feel the responsibility of the customs of his fathers, from which life nor death would tempt older chief to deviate, hopefully exclaiming:
"It was the wolf the Sagamore's eyes fell upon first; it was the wolf the Manitou sent. He wants him to put into the far off hunting ground."
For an instant, only an instant, hope flitted across the face of the doting, and heart broken lover. With the stoicism so natural to these people, they attempted to hide their grief, but too plainly their ill concealed tears betrayed, while they unlocked the almost paralyzed tongue.
"Did my daughter find her lodge too warm, that she ventured so far away in the dew? Were her ears closed when her father bid her stay in the shadow of her lodge?"
"The Fawn was sent by Black Snake to meet her father," she replied. "Would Grey Eagle have the Fawn wait for the song of the wish-ton-wish, while the Black Snake sung in her ears; and the Swaying Reed carried her wampum to the chief with the white plume? The Swaying Reed loves Black Snake; and Black Snake sent the Fawn with her wampum, that the eyes of her father and the young chief might fall on her first as they rose the great hill."
Amazement and stupefaction sat for a moment on the features of the Indians during the delivery of this speech. Their swarthy countenances kindled with a fierce expression that told so well the dark thoughts that struggled in their hearts at the perfidy of Black Snake who had exercised his vengeance in so unmerciful a manner. The threatening tomahawks that filled the air at this convincing proof of his malicious designs, would have terrified any other than that sly, cunning chief. As villains of the present day so often protect themselves with the strong arm of the law intended for their suppression, so Black Snake knowing so well the customs of his people, used their own well meant laws to carry out his sinister plans, and protect himself in so doing. Again amidst the tumult the young chief insisted:
"It was the wolf the chief saw first; 'twas the wolf the Manitou wanted."
So many endorsed the young chief that confusion for the time prevented Great Oak from speaking, which might have been mistaken for yielding; when that crafty chief springing from among the ever-green bushes, confronted the chiefs, and in a loud voice of ferocious exultation and of triumph, tauntingly demanded:
"What says the Sagamore? Does he tell the young warriors a lie? The wolf was in the arms of Black Snake when the Fawn was in the arms of her father."
Turning with an annihilating look upon the base Indian, whose last sentence conveyed an unpardonable taunt to any Indian chief, the Sagamore, with the firmness of the rocks around him and in clear distinct words replied:
"Dare pass judgement upon the deeds of a sachem who hath sat in council with thy father's father? Look to thyself Black Snake, the hissing spirits in the boiling waters below are calling for thee. I have said."
Bestowing upon his daughter a long look of thwarted love and final resignation, in words at once unyieldingly firm, but full of, the Indians' bright hopes and promises for the future, he pronounced her doom, which none dared question.
"My child, the Manitou hath need of thee; thou must soon travel the bright path and join thy mother beyond the clouds. The big moon shows the path brightest now; and that thou mayst not stumble or lose thy way, go prepare thyself at once as the child of thy father should, to joyfully carry the gifts most precious to the Great Manitou for the welfare of thy people. I have said."
The real or pretended indifference to pleasure or pain, one of the great characteristics of the American Indian, even to the joyful manner they would yield, without resistance and evidently without sufficient cause, to torture and death, was owing greatly to the sudden and unalterable decisions of their chiefs, governed by customs formed from their views of a future state, over-ruling all earthly ambitions of these untutored people. Such terrible dooms! The sentence and execution so quickly following each other, and apparently falling upon the poor victim at once, the shock paralyzing their faculties, while pride concealing their softer feelings, transforms them so suddenly into what appears beings indifferent and insensible to the suffering and distress of death and separation or to the expectation of enjoyment and happiness here on earth to themselves or others.
Thus comprehending her inevitable situation and feeling it an honor to be the selected of the Manitou to guide the birchen-bark with precious gifts over the precipice to the happy forest in eternity, where she would meet her long remembered mother, the doomed maiden replied, with tearful smile and subdued voice, "I go my father," and immediately disappeared among the wild vines and bushes that border the banks of Niagara, followed closely by her faithful wolf.
The setting sun that day shed its last rays and warmth upon a busy and sorrowful scene, around thy roaring cataract, Oh, cruel unrelenting fall of waters softly painting with mellow light the trees, rocks and thy wild children, unmindful alike, of the sad though customary, preparations for the sacrifice hurriedly proceeding: the women decking with shells and flowers the fairest maiden in their tribe, so soon to pass from them forever; the chiefs wrapped in the pride of Indian endurance hide from each other their feelings no tear betrays, or thoughts even mar the serenity of their countenances, which indicated only submission to fate while the necessary ceremonies were being provided for; and they filled the flower decked bark, moored in the little eddy above the rapids, with highly valuable contributions; and lighted the great pine-fires for the feast and dance, so well furnished and prepared by Black Snake, while daylight faded into night, heralded by invisible singers from the surrounding trees, pouring forth their sleepy monotonous songs, varying only at times in a higher and wilder key, then dying away in the endless roar of the turbulent waters around them.
The full moon ascending majestically above the horizon, with its pale, wavering light softened into beauty the rough rocks and banks, revealing the brilliant and beautiful path that one by one, the wisest and best of their tribe, had followed. Showering its light upon the narrow river path, already filled with the sad hearted maidens leading the submissive Fawn to the waiting boat in the quiet little bay; they hushed the noisy feast with their low sweet voices as they sung her virtues, followed by a subdued and curious crowd of every age and sex. About stepping from the rock to her boat, the Fawn turned to her sire, but e'er she spoke the sachem answered her appealing look.
"I have no word or gift to send by thee my child. Thou art my all. The Great Oak will soon fall, but in falling must crush his enemies. Thy father will follow thee on the beautiful trail when the Manitou next lights the way," turning, as he finished, his back towards the river, while the Fawn placed herself with mechanical helplessness in the boat. Instantly the unnoticed, but faithful wolf, sprung after her. Arms were stretched to pull him out, but the sachem's voice caused them to fall by the sides of the officious forms to which they belonged.
"The Manitou calls whom he hath use for. If he sent my child through the artfulness of that young chief to the brow of the big hill, he hath also called the wolf, because he hath need of him; let him go. I have said."
The little bark, held firmly by strong ropes twisted from the inside bark of the elm, and fastened to both ends of the boat and to the side next to the shore, the other ends of the rope held by the weeping maidens who followed the river path, slowly towing the little bark to a point near the brink of the cataract, on the east border of the river, where a platform of flat rocks whose uneven portions appear here and there above the surface of the water, form a solid foundation to its unsandy shore. There tossing the ropes from them, the light canoe drawn by the powerful current would dance only a moment on the bounding waves, ere it launched into the misty region surrounding the mystical path, where transition is hid from mortal eye. Slowly drawn by the reluctant girls, the Fawn commenced her death song, a simple address to the Manitou, while her thoughts evidently clung to her earthly friends.
"Thou hath called. Great Manitou, from thy forest on high, I come, I'll follow thy wampum-dyed path through the sky; Thy gifts hath been poured on the chieftains and braves, They send Thee their child on the dark boiling waves; Soon in the Beautiful Path she will be, Loaded with tears so precious for Thee; The grief of my sire, the grief of my brave, Oh! Precious the load on this terrible wave; But cheered by my chief, as the last leap draws nigh, Can I look back and see him from thy Path in the sky? One look, O Manitou! 'ere my face rams From my father and brave, where my heart still yearns; That look; and their tears my offering shall be, Oh precious the load I'll carry to Thee, As my spirit will rise in the mist o'er the wave, While my body floats down to its watery grave."
Suddenly her song was interrupted by another wail, commencing low and gradually rising, till its clear notes seemed to fill the surrounding woods, mingling with the shrieks of the wind as it wound round the prominent rocks they were slowly approaching. There on the very rock where the Fawn's little bark would dart away from the open hands of the sad lamenting maidens, stood unobserved by all but his own braves, the tall figure of Grey Eagle, dimly seen through the suddenly cloudy moonlight, erect against the dark back ground of the forest, singing in an exulting voice and manner, words that betrayed his intentions, which none would dare prevent, or set at naught if accepted by the Manitou,--a free spontaneous gift of life on his part, as shown in the words that floated on the night air to the ears of his hearers.
"Thou lift'st not thy hand, which only can save The dark-eyed maid from thy terrible wave; She is tender and timid, Oh! Great Manitou! In the arms of her brave to Thee she must go, In the arms of her brave take the terrible flight, Together their spirits shall, rise into light."
As the ropes fell, from the trembling hands of the towing maidens, the moon in mercy seemed to hide her face beneath a cloud, veiling in darkness the fearful tragedy, as the Fawn floated off on the pitiless wave. A splash; a struggle; a wild howl, filled the air, echoing from rock to rock and from shore to shore. One ray of light from between the clouds revealed the little boat, as poised an instant in the misty vapor over the boiling surge, and dark forms gathered on the rocks from whence the bark had just departed; while shout and strife and angry threats grew loud among the warlike group madly struggling on that brink of eternity. Great Oak alone could quell the tumult. Followed by some sympathizing chiefs he wound his way among the promiscuous crowd already gathered. On the shore near the brink of the falling waters, on the stony tables extending far out into the water, stood Grey Eagle's warriors, firm as the rocks beneath them. In the center of this group, almost a prisoner of his own braves, was the speechless Grey Eagle; at his feet crouched the powerful wolf over the prostrate form of the insensible Fawn, alternately howling and licking her face. At the appearance of the old chief clamor ceased, and with difficulty the astonished father was made to understand the cause of the excitement.
At the moment of the Indian girls freeing the boat, the natural instinct of the wolf apprised him of her danger; instantly springing to his loved mistress, fastening his powerful jaws in her deer skin dress, the faithful beast tumbled into the water, struggling with fear and more than common strength to the rock where stood the almost petrified Grey Eagle, who then recognized the omnipotent power that moved to save. Being surrounded by his own braves who quickly and thoughtfully passed them to the shore, re-commenced the pow-wow in which Black Snake's voice was heard above all the others, calling on the Manitou to let his wrath fall on the strangers for robbing him of his gifts, and not on the open hands of his own people, and calling for help to toss them all into the boiling waters, to avert the wrath of the Manitou from themselves, he tried to suit his actions to his words. His voice was last heard on the brink of the precipice, as if in a deadly contest.
When the sachem and the other chiefs agreed the Manitou had taken what he wanted, and given the rest back to his sorrowful children, Black Snake was not there. When the pine cones were piled high on the big fire, and Grey Eagle was proclaimed War-Chief, and the wolf as a totem thereafter to the mingle tribes of Great Oak's and Grey Eagle's people, and was marked indelibly on each warrior, Black Snake was not there. When the feast and dance commenced and the now animated Fawn, in the presence of all the chiefs, gave her wampum to Grey Eagle, and the night wore away with wild festivities, as chief after chief silently disappeared, as they had appeared, in the dark winding paths over the hills and around marshes to their distant homes; and peace and happiness again spread around old Niagara, while the sassafras' fragrant smoke from their cheerful wigwams mingling with the cataract's cloudy mist, rose like incense to their Manitou, Black Snake still was not there; and only for the Swaying Reed wandering up and down the vine tangled banks, ever looking among the rocks, and listening for a well remembered step, or some mimic note of the departed brave, he would have passed from their memories as he had from the sight of the noble and generous wolf tribe created and loved of the Great Manitou of Niagara.
End of Project Gutenberg's Birch Bark Legends of Niagara, by Owahyah