CHAPTER XXXIX.

The lodge of Black Eagle's sister was next in size and importance to that of the chief himself, and on it, too, some European skill had been expended. Though on a somewhat smaller scale, it was very much such another building as that which has been described by a writer of those times as the palace of a celebrated chief of the Mohawks. In a word, "It had the appearance of a good barn, divided across by a mat hung in the middle." It was only of one story, however; but the workmen who had erected it a good many years before, on their return from the completion of Fort Oswego, had added a door of European form, with a latch and a brass knob, which greatly increased its dignity in the eyes of the tribe.

The possessor of this mansion, who was held in great reverence all through the Oneida nation, and was supposed to have communication with the spiritual world, had obtained, I know not how, the name of the Grey Dove, although her features by no means displayed the characteristic meekness of the bird from which she derived her appellation, but bore a considerable resemblance to those of her brother, which certainly well accorded with his name.

When Otaitsa approached the door, she found it fastened, and she knocked twice with her hand before it was opened. A young girl then peeped out, and, seeing the Sachem's daughter, gave her admission at once into the outer apartment. The space on that side of the large mat which formed the partition was vacant; but a murmur of voices came from the division beyond, and a light shone through the crevices between the mat and the wall.

The feelings of Otaitsa's heart were too powerful to leave any timidity in her bosom; and, although she shared in some degree the feelings with which the other Oneidas regarded the Grey Dove, she advanced at once, drew back the corner of the mat, and entered the chamber beyond.

The scene was neither of a beautiful nor of a very solemn character; nevertheless, there was something very striking in it. Seated around a large fire in the middle, were a number of the elder women of the tribe, whose features and forms, once, perhaps, fair and lovely, had lost almost every trace of beauty. But their lineaments were strongly marked, and had, in many instances, a stern and almost fierce expression. Their eyes, jetty black, and in most cases as brilliant as in early youth, shone in the light of the fire like diamonds; and, in many an attitude and gesture, appeared much of that grace which lingers longer with people accustomed to a free and unconfined life, than with those of rigid and conventional habits.

Outside of the first and elder circle, sat a number of the younger women, from fifteen or sixteen years of age, up to five or six and twenty. Many of them were exceedingly beautiful; but the figures of their elder companions shaded them mostly from the glare of the fire, and it was only here and there that one of those countenances could be discovered which might offer, in many of the Indian tribes, fit models for painter or sculptor.

Seated, not on the ground like the rest, but on a small low settle at the further side of the inner circle, appeared Black Eagle's sister, gorgeously dressed almost entirely in crimson, with anklets and bracelets of gold, and innumerable glittering ornaments round her neck. She was much older than her brother. Her hair, almost as white as snow, was knotted up behind on the ordinary roller, without any decoration. Her features were aquiline, and much more prominent than those of Black Eagle; and her eyes were still keen and bright.

The moment they lighted upon Otaitsa, the exclamation burst from her lips,--

"She is come! the Great Spirit has sent her! Stand there in the midst, Blossom, and hear what we have resolved."

Otaitsa passed between two of the younger and two of the elder women, taking her place between the inner circle and the fire; and wonderfully bright and beautiful did she look, with the flame flashing upon her exquisite form and delicate features, and lighting up a countenance full of strong enthusiasm and pure emotion.

"Thy child hears thy words," she said, without pause or hesitation; for it must be remarked that the stoical gravity which prevailed at the conferences of the chiefs and warriors was not thought necessary among the women of the tribes. "What has the Grey Dove to say to the daughter of her brother?"

"The boy must not die!" exclaimed the old woman, in a firm and decided tone. "It is not the will of the Great Spirit; or, if he die, there shall be wailing in every lodge, and mourning amongst the children of the Stone. Art thou willing, Otaitsa, child of the Black Eagle, daughter of the Flower of the East, to do as we do, and to obey my voice?"

Otaitsa gazed round the circle, and saw a stern and lofty determination written on every countenance. Her own heart was not one to quail at any undertaking, known or unknown; and the only thing which could have deterred her from taking the pledge proposed, was the spirit of Christianity. But it must not be supposed that the Christianity of the Indian girl, notwithstanding all the labours of her missionary friend, was pure and unmixed with the characteristics of her people. All the daily habits of life, all that she saw, all that she heard around her, mingled the notions and the feelings of the Indian with the doctrines and the sentiments of the Christian. The first impulse was always Indian; the rectifying principle nearly Christian.

After gazing round them for an instant, she answered, "I am; I will do what thou sayest to save him, even unto death."

"She has said!" cried the old woman. "Now then, Blossom, this is thy task; thou shalt watch eagerly as a fox upon the hill-side, and bring word to me of the exact day and hour when the sacrifice is to be offered. Every one must watch."

"But how shall I discover?" asked Otaitsa. "The warriors tell not their secrets to women. The Black Eagle hides his thoughts from his daughter; he covers his face with a cloud, and wraps his purposes in shadows from our eyes."

"By little signs shalt thou know," returned the Grey Dove. "Small clouds prognosticate great storms. When thou seest any change, mark it well. If his head droops, and his eye seeks the ground more than common, bring or send the tidings unto me. If he be silent when he should speak, and hears not the words thou utterest--if he gazes up to the heaven as if he were seeking to know the changes of the weather, when all is clear--and if he looks at the tomahawk as it hangs upon the beam, with a dull and heavy eye--be sure the time is coming."

Otaitsa gave a wild start, and exclaimed,--

"Then it is this night! for all the signs you mention have been present. When I entered the lodge, his head was bowed down, and his eyes were fixed upon the ground. He was very sad. He heard me; but his thoughts seemed to wander. When he stopped my petition, and turned towards the door, his eyes rested gloomily on the hatchet; and when he stood without, they were lifted to the sky, as if looking for stars in the daytime. It is to-night! it is to-night! Oh, what shall be done?"

"Nay," answered the Grey Dove, with a kindly look, "it is _not_ to-night. Be comforted, my child. Not until to-morrow, at the hour of twilight, will the six moons have passed; and the Black Eagle speaks no word in vain. He will not lift the tomahawk a moment before the hour; but to-morrow will be the time, after the sun has set. The pale-faces have taken the war-path against each other; and the allies of the Black Eagle have called upon him to take wing, and help them. They have bade him paint himself for the battle, and come forth with his warriors. He has waited but for this; and now we know the day and the hour, for he will not tarry."

Otaitsa still trembled; but her mind was much relieved for the moment. She knew her father well, and she saw the truth of what the Grey Dove said.

"How shall we stay him?" she inquired. "The Black Eagle bends not in his way like a serpent; he goes straight upon his path like a bird in the air. He hears not the voice of entreaty; his ears are stopped against the words of prayer. You may turn the torrent as it rushes down after the melting of the snow, or the rock as it falls from the precipice; but you cannot arrest the course of the Black Eagle, or turn him from his way."

"Be firm and constant," said the Grey Dove. "We are in the hands of the Great Spirit. Watch your father closely, Otaitsa, all to-morrow, from the mid-day till the setting sun--from the setting sun till the dawn, if it be needful. The moment he goes forth, come thou to me at the lodge of the Lynx, by the western gate of the palisade; there shalt thou find me with others. I know that thy young heart is strong, and that it will not quail. Watch carefully, but watch secretly. See if he take the tomahawk in his belt, and if his face be gay or gloomy. Mark every sign, and bring the news to me."

"They may go by the other gate, and steal round," said one of the women in the inner circle. "I will set my daughter, now waiting without, to watch that gate, and bring us tidings. She is still and secret as the air of night, and has the foot of the wind."

"It is good," said the Grey Dove, rising. "Let us all be prepared, for the boy must not die."

No more was said; for the old prophetess fell into one of those deep and solemn reveries, from which all present knew she could not easily be wakened, and which probably had acquired for her the reputation of conversing with the spirit-world.

One by one, slowly and silently, the women stole out of the lodge, dispersing in various directions the moment they quitted the door. Otaitsa remained till the last, in the hope that the Grey Dove would speak again, and afford her some further information of her plans; but the old woman remained silently gazing on the fire, with her tall figure erect and stiff, and probably perfectly unconscious of the departure of the others, till at length the Blossom followed the rest, and returned quietly to the great lodge.

The following day became dark and stormy about three o'clock in the afternoon. A sharp, cold wind succeeded to the mild breath of spring; and the Indians generally remained assembled round their fires, leaving the wide place within the palisade very nearly deserted.

Shortly before sunset, one Indian woman crept quietly forth, and took her way towards a hut near the eastern entrance of their village. Another followed very speedily; and before twilight had ended, and night begun, no less than twelve stood beneath the roof, with the Grey Dove in the midst of them. It was too dark for any one to see the face of another; for the night had fallen heavily and thick, and a blanket was stretched across the entrance. But the Grey Dove felt them one after another with her hands, asking a question of each, to which she seemed to receive a satisfactory answer.

"The thirteenth is not here," she said; "but she will come, and her heart will not fail."

A dead silence fell over them all after these words were spoken; that sort of stern, heavy, solemn silence which not unfrequently precedes the execution of some strong and terrible resolution. Yet, of those twelve, there were several gay and lively girls, as well as women fallen into the decline of life. Nevertheless, all were as still as death. The volatile lightness of youth, as well as the garrulity of old age, was hushed.

Suddenly, after they had waited about twenty minutes, the blanket was pushed aside, and another figure was added to the number. The voice of Otaitsa whispered--

"He is gone forth armed as if for battle; he has his tomahawk with him; his face was very sad. I saw the Old Cedar cross to the west gate, with others whom I knew in the darkness."

She spoke in eager haste, and gasped for breath; but the old woman took her by the arm, saying,--

"Be calm, be still! Now follow noiselessly. Then bend down as you pass through the maize; though, in this black night, who shall see us?"

She was the first to issue forth; then came Otaitsa; and the others followed one by one, with quick but silent steps, through the wide field of maize that swept round the palisade, and then into the neighbouring forest. Once, when they came near a spot where the polished mirror of the lake collected and cast back every ray of light that remained in the air, they caught sight of a dark file, shadowy and ghost-like as themselves, moving on at a little distance in the same direction. But it was soon lost, and the sight only served to hasten their footsteps.

Passing along a trail which cut across the neck of a little wooded promontory, they suddenly came in sight of the lake again, and, by its side, a low Indian hut, marked out plainly against the surface of the water. When within about thirty yards, the Grey Dove halted, whispered a word or two to those who followed, and then, bending down, crept closer to the lodge.

"Oh, let us hasten," whispered Otaitsa. "They are already there; I hear my father speaking."

"Hush, hush! be still!" ejaculated the old woman in the same tone. "The Black Eagle will do nothing hastily; it is for him a solemn rite. Let me first get near; then follow, and do what I do."