CHAPTER XX

PONTIAC IN THE COUNCIL

KNOWING the folly of trying to enter into any sort of talk at such a time, Bob only pinched the arm of his more reckless brother. And Sandy understood what that signified; he was to say not another word.

Other sounds reached them. Bob caught the well-known click of flint and steel, and knew that a fire was about to be started. Presently sparks flashed and then the tinder caught, so that a little flame darted up.

As this was carefully fed by a practised hand it grew in volume, until the darkness that had rested under the thick branches of the great oak began to be dissipated.

By degrees Bob could make out the figures of several Indians. He stared as if unable to believe his eyes, for every one of them seemed to have vied with the others in assuming a grotesque dress. Several wore horns, and all of them had their faces hidden behind masks, usually the heads of some animal.

The first represented a wolf, one of those gaunt timber pirates that could easily pull a stag to earth; another had on a buffalo head; while a third seemed to represent a panther. Their garments were elaborately fashioned, and their persons decked with all manner of tinkling bits of metal, and colored porcupine quills. Not a movement did they make after once throwing off their reserve but that Bob was reminded of a necromancer he had once seen a very long time ago, in a playhouse in Richmond, to which his father took him at Christmas time.

He knew what these strange personages were as soon as his eyes beheld their remarkable attire and actions. Up to now Bob had never really set eyes on a real medicine man, though Sandy claimed to have done so at the time he was a prisoner in the Shawanee village.

But why half a dozen of them; and what sort of business had brought them here to this tree, that must be a land mark in the neighborhood? Did Blue Jacket know? He claimed to have been in this vicinity before; then perhaps he was acquainted with the very tree, in the branches of which they perched at that minute.

Still watching, Bob saw that the queer men below were carrying on in a strange way as they fed the flames, and kept building up the fire. They went through all manner of gestures, flinging their arms wildly aloft, dancing as they circled the flames, throwing some sort of powder into the fire that for the moment cast a blood red and terrible glow upon everything around; and anon even taking hold of hands to engage in a wild orgy around the blaze.

By slow degrees he began to realize that these seven medicine men must belong to just as many different tribes. It was as though they had been sent here ahead in order to start the sacred fire at which, later on, the heads of those same clans would gather in solemn conclave!

Did it mean that the idle wish of Sandy was to be thus quickly fulfilled? Had Blue Jacket in some way heard what was said, or guessed it; and was he now bent on giving them a chance to hear the coming council, when representatives of many nations would come to meet those of the Iroquois, and try to wean them away from their allegiance to the English?

The thought thrilled the young pioneer. He did not know whether to be glad or fearful because it was so. It would, of course, be a wonderful thing for them to see this council which must go down in history; to perhaps look upon the great Pontiac, as well as the head chiefs connected with many powerful tribes, such as the Sacs, the Foxes, the Senecas, the Onondagas, the Mohawks and the war-like Delawares. But what if, through some little misfortune, they were discovered?

While Bob was giving way to these thoughts he saw that the queer dance below had come to an end. The strangely garbed medicine men vanished from view, and other Indians began to troop in to gather about the fire.

By dozens and scores they came from every quarter. Bob could hardly believe he was not dreaming, for the great space below began to be fairly packed with Indians. Some stalked around in their skin blankets, while others were naked down to the waist.

These latter were the wild Ojibways, with quivers slung at their backs, and light war clubs resting in the hollow of their arms. There were Ottawas wrapped close in gaudy blankets, and Wyandots fluttering in painted shirts, their heads adorned with colored feathers, and their leggins garnished with shining metal discs that often chimed like silver bells.

He knew that he was undoubtedly looking upon the most noted chiefs west of the mountains. Some of these must be men who had led in the wars of the last few years, where scores and hundreds of lives had been lost.

Afterwards he learned from Blue Jacket that the Shawanee sachem Silver Heels was present, as well as Sagan the Cuyuga chieftain, later on the terror of the settlers; and that the young fellow who dressed much like a white man was really Joseph Brant, the adopted son of Sir William Johnson, and later renowned as Thayendanega, the Mohawk scourge of the American settlements; while others were Turtle Heart, old Bald Eagle, and Longboat of the Delawares.

Now the assembled Indians began to seat themselves cross-legged around the council fire. It was easy to believe that the inner circle must be made up of those in whose hands lay the most power. Nor were they all Indians. Here and there among the motley throng the watchers above had glimpsed a white man, usually a French Canadian trapper or trader. These men's sympathies were all with the war Pontiac was waging upon the venturesome English, who had pushed their outposts so far in the direction of the Mississippi.

Bob started when he recognized two familiar faces among those below; these were no other than Armand Lecroix, the leader of the men with whom the Armstrong boys had quarrelled at the time the dispute arose concerning the ownership of the game; and another fellow equally as brutal in his ways, Jacques Larue, with whom Bob and Sandy had had trouble in the past.

It was not surprise at seeing these men here among the hostile Indians that gave Bob that chilly feeling. He was only thinking how pleased the French trappers would be if they discovered how the grand council was being spied upon, and who the unfortunates in the tree-top proved to be.

Looking closer, Bob felt positive he could recognize Pontiac. The most notorious Indian of history, whose one dream it had ever been to unite the many tribes into a confederacy, and then sweep the hated palefaces back into the ocean from which they had sprung, was a notable figure.

His manner was commanding, and even his garb bespoke the kingly role he had taken upon himself. He was not above middle height, though his figure was commanding. His complexion was darker than is usual with his race, and his features had a bold and stern expression, while his bearing was that of a man accustomed to sweeping away all opposition by the force of his imperious will.

Ordinarily Pontiac's attire was that of the primitive savage, girded about the loins, wearing beaded moccasins, and with his long black hair flowing loosely; but, when seated in council, he was wont to appear as Bob and Sandy now gazed in awe upon him, plumed and painted in the full costume of war.

Every eye was fastened upon Pontiac when he spoke, after the pipe had been passed around, and each member of the council had taken a whiff, sending a little puff toward each point of the compass. (Note 6.)

Although the voice of the great sachem reached them easily, neither of the boys could understand what he said, as he made his passionate appeal to the chiefs of the Six Nations and many others assembled there. It was easy however for them to guess that he was artfully appealing to their passions and prejudices, and telling them how, if only all the red tribes would join together, they could once again possess the land that their fathers had owned.

Then others spoke, some apparently in favor of the proposal of the great leader, others counselling caution. Thus time passed until a full hour had gone. The boys had not dared even move all this while, though they felt stiff and sore from so long perching upon the hard limbs. Screened by the leaves that still clung to the branches of the council oak, they had seen one after another get up to give his views upon the subject Pontiac had brought as a message from his powerful tribe that had its home along the border of the other Great Lakes, where Detroit and similar frontier posts held out against the attacks of the allied Indians.

No eye was strong enough to pierce the screen that hid the three spies. Doubtless all of those below found enough to interest them in watching the play of passion, or entreaty, upon the faces of the speakers, without allowing their gaze to roam elsewhere. Most of all would they fail to glance up amid the foliage of the oak, where only a lynx or a wolverine might be expected to lurk, if indeed any living thing could be found there.

Sandy wished with all his heart that it were over. He had seen enough, and was fairly wild to get relief from his cramped position, Pontiac, after all, while possibly a wonderful man, might pall upon one!

There was one event, however, that broke up the monotony of hearing those speeches in a tongue which they could not understand. This happened when the fiery Jacques Larue arose to his feet, and launched into a violent talk in the Indian language, which he seemed to understand as well as though he had been born a red man.

He apparently differed from the line of argument that the great sachem Pontiac had advanced, for he frequently turned toward that individual, and seemed to shake his hand almost threateningly.

Whatever it may have been that stood between them, Bob knew well that it had no concern regarding the scheme to clean out the pioneer settlements along the Great Lakes and the Ohio River. Like all his breed, Larue would have welcomed such a catastrophe, could it be brought about.

Perhaps his suspicions had been aroused, and he believed that this vast plot of Pontiac embraced the French as well as the English--that, after the latter had been wiped out, the red hosts, flushed with victory, were to turn upon their supporters, and finish the French also.

History tells us that Pontiac was suspected of harboring such a scheme, and only accepted the help of the French trappers and traders in order to lull them into a condition of fancied security.

There was a sudden break in the harangue of Jacques Larue when Pontiac, as if stung beyond all control, sprang to his feet and struck the excited French trapper full in the face.

A terrible moment of silence followed. Fully fifty dusky hands sought tomahawks and knives as the assemblage watched to see what the several companions of Larue would do to avenge the open insult. One move would have sealed their death, and those men knew it only too well.

Face to face Pontiac and the French trapper stood, with eye glaring into eye. Then with a contemptuous laugh the chief made a movement with his imperious hand, as if ordering Larue to get out of his sight before he gave the signal for him to be cut to pieces.

There was nothing for it but to obey, since Larue knew only too well that he had few friends among all that assemblage. Not one would dare lift a hand against the dusky idol of the Indian tribes, the silver-tongued and powerful sachem of the Pottawottomies.

He slunk away, and vanished beyond the outer circles; but that last frown which he bent on Pontiac told only too plainly what hatred and bitter venom was hidden in his black heart.

Nor did either of the watching and listening white boys imagine for a moment what a tremendous influence that very dramatic circumstance was fated to have upon their own fortunes. And still it was so.

The great council, held under the famous oak where many such had taken place in the years that were gone, broke up at last. The final speech had been delivered by Pontiac himself; and once more his wonderfully persuading voice seemed to be raised in pleading. The Iroquois chiefs had been divided, as near as Bob could make out, some being in favor of joining the tremendous chain of confederated tribes, while others clung to their well-known allegiance to the English.

Now the immense crowd had begun to melt away. By dozens and scores the Indians took themselves off, each tribe seeming to cling together. Pontiac himself, Bob noticed, seemed to accompany an old and wise-looking chief who, from his dress, he believed must be the famous Delaware sachem, Bald Eagle; and with them, too, was the Seneca chieftain.

In ten minutes not an Indian was to be seen below. The fire had burned down, and was slowly dying out. Sandy would have tried to make a move in order to at least change his position, only that his brother nudged him, and in this way warned the impatient one that they had not yet seen the end of the affair.

Figures were again moving under the sacred council oak tree. Once more did the seven strange figures of the allied medicine men appear, to again exhort the Great Spirit to listen to the appeals that had so recently been spoken. They danced around the dying fire, they chanted in unison, they waved their arms, and rattled hollow gourds that contained hard seeds, until the effect was most awe-inspiring.

Finally, as a fitting wind-up to these queer proceedings that seemed to partake of the savage nature of the Indian, each of them tossed a handful of powder in the embers of the fire. For the second time that red flame arose, to bathe the entire vicinity in its fierce glow, and to avoid which the watchers aloft had need to close their aching eyes.

When they opened them again the seven medicine men had vanished, gliding away as silently as ghosts. Only the dying fire lay below to tell them of the wonderful experience which they had just passed through, thanks to the sagacity and daring of their faithful guide, Blue Jacket.

There was no further use trying to restrain Sandy. He saw that the coast below was clear, and felt that no Indian would dare profane the sacred meeting-place after the medicine men had thus consecrated it anew.

Nor did Blue Jacket attempt to stop him. They certainly could not remain where they were; and, since the Seneca village could not be a great distance off, it might be well for them to try to find it.

As Bob knew, it was the intention of their dusky friend to enter, when they had discovered the wigwams of the tribe to which the abductor of little Kate belonged. He could play the part of a messenger from the south, sent to learn more about the plans of Pontiac, so that the ever hostile Shawanees might be able to work in common with the rest of the tribes.

Once within the borders of the big village it would be easy for Blue Jacket to discover whether Black Beaver had returned, and, if so, what manner of prisoner he had brought with him.

After that they could lay their heads together, to fashion a plan by means of which the girl might be spirited away.

Once on the ground Sandy began to stretch himself vigorously. Nearly two hours of confinement, without being allowed to move much of the time, had apparently tied his young muscles in knots, so that they actually pained him.

"I'm glad to be able to put up my hands again, I tell you," Sandy remarked, as he thus stretched his limbs, and drew in huge breaths, as though he had not been allowed to use his lungs properly for fear lest he thus betray their place of concealment to the watchful enemy below.

Bob was himself feeling much better since allowed to leave that hard perch in the thickest part of the giant oak. He would have so expressed himself, no doubt, only that he was given no opportunity. Even as he opened his mouth to reply to his brother, a gruff voice broke in upon them from the rear, saying:

"Zat is ver' goot, begar! Suppose, then, young monsieur continue to elevate ze hands, and so it vill not tempt me to shoot. If so be I must press zis trigger of ze gun, poof! it vill be ovaire so quick wif you all. Stand still, or ze consequences be on your own heads!"

Bob felt a cold chill as he listened to these scoffing words. He recognized the voice as belonging to Armand Lacroix, the French trapper who had given him such a look of hatred at the time there was a dispute between them as to whom the game belonged, and which was settled in favor of the young pioneer.