CHAPTER XLI.

The din of preparation was heard in the great castle of the Oneidas. With the first light of morning numerous small bands began to pour in, summoned secretly long before, to hold a war-council, and to march against the enemy. Before noon, larger bands began to appear, led by several of the noted warriors of the nation; and one very numerous body, coming across the lake in a little fleet of canoes, brought with them a great quantity of baggage, in the shape of tents and provisions, with women and even children.

The scene which took place when all were assembled, in number more than a thousand, is perfectly indescribable. Nor shall I attempt to give a picture of it. A long period of peace seemed only to have given the western warriors a sort of thirst for war; and their joy at the unburying of the hatchet and the march against an enemy brought forth demonstrations which, to any civilized eye, would have appeared perfectly frantic. Screaming, shouting, singing, dancing, striking the war-posts with their tomahawks, and shaking their rifles in the air, they seemed like beings possessed by some evil spirit; the quiet and grave demeanour was altogether cast aside; and the calmest and most moderate boasted outrageously of deeds done in the past, and which ought to be performed in the coming war.

About an hour after noon, however, a sudden and complete change came over the scene. In an open space before the great lodge, all the chieftains of the different Totems or tribes assembled; and the usual circle was formed around the great war-post of the Black Eagle. The younger warriors gathered in other rows, without the first; and the youths, the women, and the children, beyond them again.

One exception to the usual order took place. The great chief had, on either side of him, one of those both of whom he now called his children. Otaitsa, in her most brilliant apparel, stood upon his left; and Walter Prevost, armed and dressed like the Oneidas, with the sole difference that his head was not shaved like theirs, remained standing throughout the ceremony on his right.

As soon as all movement had ceased, and the stillness of death fell over the whole multitude, Black Eagle, in a speech of powerful eloquence, related all that had occurred on the preceding night, and justified the act of himself and the other chiefs in the eyes of the people. He said that he, himself, and five of his brethren, had been prepared to sacrifice the son of Prevost to atone for the blood of the Snake, and to satisfy the customs of the Oneidas, although each would rather have slain his own son; but that the Great Spirit had spoken by the tongue of his sister, and they had forborne.

When he had done, the Old Cedar rose, but uttered only a few words.

"It was the voice of the Great Spirit," he said; and immediately a murmur of "Koué! Koué!" ran round the assembly in confirmation of the act.

The chief then explained to his warriors why he had that day called them around him; for, although the object was already well known to all, and the news had spread that the English were marching against the French upon Lake Champlain, the Indians never acted in masses without solemn deliberation; and a war-speech, as they called it, was universally expected from their renowned leader. He dwelt at large upon the alliance between the English and the Five Nations, and upon the good faith with which the stipulations of their treaties had been maintained by the British provinces; he referred to "the talk" held some six months before, at the Castle of Sir William Johnson, skilfully mingling with his discourse the names of several persons most popular with the tribes; and he ended by exhorting his hearers to show their truth and friendship towards their English brethren, and to pour down their fiercest wrath upon the French, whom he spoke of contemptuously, as the brethren of the Hurons and the Alonquin.

The same signs of approbation followed; and many another chief added his voice, raising the passions of the warriors to the highest pitch. One especially urged them to immediate action, telling them that the Mohawks had already marched; that they were with the English army; and that the faces of the children of the Stone would be red with shame if a Mohawk brought home more scalps than an Oneida.

Some were for setting out on the instant; but this proposal was overruled, and the following morning was appointed for the march to begin, as more war-parties were expected from different districts, and some had not come fully prepared for the long journey and important enterprise.

The council was succeeded by similar scenes to those with which the day began; and it must not be concealed that in many instances the dreadful "fire-water" was employed so far as even to produce beastly intoxication. Small drums and wild instruments of music, songs of every character, from the wailing lament or the religious chant, to the fierce and boastful war-song, rose from every part of the village; and it was not till the sun had completely set, that anything like quiet and order was restored.

Paint it in what colours we will, it was a barbarous and terrible, though exciting, scene; and Walter Prevost was well pleased to hear the noise gradually die away into low murmurs, and silence begin to resume its reign.

Then came a very, very happy hour. He sat with Otaitsa alone in the great lodge while the Black Eagle wandered amongst his people without; and, for the first time since his deliverance from death, the two had an opportunity of pouring forth to each other the many feelings which had accumulated in the last four-and-twenty hours.

"At this time last night," said the youth, "I was preparing to die."

"And at this time last night," returned the girl, gazing fondly upon his face as he sat with his arm clasped fondly round her, and her head leaning on his shoulder--"and at this time last night Otaitsa was ready to die with you. I have since thought it very wrong of me, Walter; and, fearing what I did was sinful, I have prayed part of the night to God for forgiveness; and another part I have spent in praise and thanksgiving. But I believe I was mad, my beloved; for I hardly know what I did, and followed blindly what they told me to do to rescue him for whom I would have sacrificed a thousand lives. Besides, I was surrounded by my countrywomen, and you know they do not think as we have been taught to think."

"If it was an error, it was a blessed one, my own Blossom," answered Walter; "for to it I owe my life; and life, when it is brightened by Otaitsa's love, is but too precious to me. The time will come, dear one, when we shall look back upon these days but as a painful dream; and the only bright reality that will last will be the memory of my Blossom's love, and all that she has done to save and bless me."

She gazed at him believingly; for hers was not a heart to doubt, and his was not a heart to be doubted; and she then said, with a sigh--

"But you are now going to battle, to risk your life and all our happiness. Still, though it may be strange, I would not stay you, though all I have learned from good Mr. Gore should make me look upon such things with horror; and, though I would fain have you stay away from danger, I suppose the habits of the people still cling about me, even though I hold a better faith than theirs."

"Fear not, dearest, fear not," answered Walter, boldly. "No harm will happen to me, I do trust and believe; and I only leave you for a few short weeks."

"You will not leave me at all, Walter," she rejoined--"no, never more. I will go with you, if not to the battle, as near it as I can be. I have my father's leave; the warriors of my race will defend me, and I will not part with my recovered treasure any more."

"Go to my father's house," said Walter, joyfully. "It is very near the spot, and Edith will rejoice to have you with her."

Otaitsa fixed her eyes upon vacancy, and fell into a deep reverie; and an expression came into her face, which Walter had remarked more than once before.

"Do you know, my beloved," he said, "that sometimes you strike me as very like our dear Edith--especially when you look thoughtful, as you did just now."

"It is very natural," said Otaitsa, nestling closer to him. "You do not know she is my cousin. My mother was your father's sister. Hush! not a word, especially in the ears of any of the tribe. My father knows it--but he will not know it, because, among the elder people of the nation, it was held contrary to our customs that cousin should marry cousin. I asked Mr. Gore, long ago, if it were against your law; but he said 'No,' that it was neither against law nor religion. He inquired why I asked so earnestly," she added, laughing, "but I would not tell him. Come with me into my chamber, and I will show you many things belonging to my mother. Stay, I will light my lamp."

What a beautiful thing is innocence! how free, how untrammelled, how boundless! and what a sad thing is its loss, to man, and to society! Surely, that loss implies slavery of the worst kind--slavery to which we voluntarily submit--bonds that we rivet round our own hands. He who thinks no evil, because he knows of none, is the only freeman on the earth's face.

Otaitsa bent down, and lighted her lamp, and guided her lover up to her little chamber; and there they sat and turned over many a long-stored treasure, and she showed him the picture of his own father, and of her mother, and of many of their mutual kin, and drawings of fair scenes in Europe, some of which he remembered well, with others of the land in which they then were, but of spots which he had never seen. There was one, also, which had been left unfinished, of a young, sweet child; and Walter gazed first upon the infant face, and then upon the bright, happy countenance beside him, and clasped his Blossom warmly to his heart. The book, too, with the drop of blood upon it, told its own tale to both their hearts.

"And where is Mr. Gore?" he asked, at length; "he seems to have left altogether his little flock; and I am sure I should have seen him during my captivity."

"He is coming back now," said Otaitsa. "My father would not let him return before. He was afraid that the breath of the good man would melt his icy purpose. He had a power over Black Eagle that none other had. I prayed and besought in vain. But had Mr. Gore been here, he would have conquered. Black Eagle knew it, and feared; and therefore he sent him hence, and would not let him return till the day was past."

"Would that he were here now!" ejaculated Walter, earnestly.

Otaitsa asked him, why; and he answered, with a warm kiss--

"That he might unite us for ever."

A flush came upon her cheek; but the low sound of a step was heard below, and, looking down the stairs, she said--

"Is that you, my father?"

"I come," replied the chief.

And, slowly mounting the stairs, he entered the chamber where they were. His eyes roved round the room in a manner which evidently showed that it was strange to him; and then he fixed them on the pictures which lay upon the table, lighted but faintly by the lamp. At first, he seemed not to distinguish what they were; but the moment he saw them clearly, he drew his mantle over his face, and turned towards the door. He uttered no word; he shed no tear; but he descended slowly, and Walter and Otaitsa followed.