CHAPTER XXVI

THE WAR DANCE

"WHAT of the weather?" asked Sandy, as soon as Simon Kenton once more entered the cavern.

"So far there is good reason to hope," replied the borderer, cheerfully.

"You could not make me happier than by saying that!" cried the young pioneer, the anxious expression vanishing from his face. "Then we can expect to get away from here, and start things moving at the village of Kiashuta? May we go now?"

"Not for several hours," said Kenton, shaking his head.

"But the wind may die out by then; or something else might happen to upset all our plans?" urged the boy.

"Not much danger of that, Sandy," Bob put in. "If the wind is blowing fairly now, it will grow stronger before it dies out."

"Well said, Bob," declared the borderer; "for it is bound to do that, as I know from the look of the clouds. Blue Jacket, too, says a storm is brewing, though it may not break until early morning, so we need not fear that the lodges will get wet, and refuse to burn. My plan would be to start the fires just as the gale begins to sweep down. With the rush of the wind, and the roar of the flames, the reds will be half crazy with fear."

He made sure that Blue Jacket was not close by when he said this, because he knew how it would make the young chief wince.

"But what about your plan for dressing us all up to look like the Indians?" questioned Bob.

"We may as well get at that now," Kenton replied, promptly. "I've some paints in my own ditty bag, and Blue Jacket will furnish the rest. As we do not mean to be seen at close quarters, it can be easily fixed. Come here, both of you, boys, and let me begin work."

In a short time the crafty hand of Kenton had daubed enough paint over the faces and hands of the boys to make them look like young warriors of the Senecas. So long as they kept well within the half shadows there would seem to be little danger that their real identity would be discovered.

Boylike, they rather enjoyed the strange experience. Sandy would have been even willing to venture into the village, and try to mingle with the crowd, had Kenton given his permission; but this the borderer was not likely to do, since he knew what must follow.

After that the rangers decorated one another, so that they too might pass for Seneca warriors if they kept on their guard.

"You see," remarked Kenton, as they sat there eating the evening meal, with only a torch fastened on the wall to give them light, "one thing that is going to help us a heap is the fact that, just now, there are many strange Indians in the Seneca village, more than I have ever seen together, even in Old Chillicothe Town. We can pass for some of those who have journeyed far to listen to the words falling from the lips of the great Pontiac."

An hour later, Sandy was electrified by observing that the borderer had given a signal to Blue Jacket, Abijah Cook and Pat O'Mara, at the same time rising from his seat, where he had been squatted cross-legged on the rocky floor.

"It is time!" said Kenton, in a quiet tone, though not a muscle in his whole body gave evidence of excitement.

"At last!" sighed Sandy, as he hastened to get on his feet, gripping his musket in his fingers.

The borderer spoke a few last words, after which he made both lads pledge themselves to control their eagerness, and promise to obey his orders.

Once out of the hateful cavern, and under the trees, the boys looked about them. They had had more or less experience as woodsmen, young though they were, and it was no great task for either Bob or Sandy to read the signs in the heavens.

Clouds drifted across the sky, coming up out of the west, so that only once in a while were a few stars seen. The wind moaned fitfully in the trees, and gave promise of increasing in strength as the night grew older. Yes, just as Kenton had declared, there was a storm in prospect, though it might not break for several hours.

Kenton immediately took the lead, though Blue Jacket clung to his side as if to advise in case the borderer needed assistance. But Kenton was really as much at home in the forest as the red son of the wilderness. To him all signs were plain to read. He knew just where the Seneca village lay, and how long it was likely to take them to reach it.

They had left the three Frenchmen bound in the cavern. Larue had pleaded to be released, vowing that not one of them would whisper to the Indians concerning the presence of these invaders in their midst. But Kenton refused to take their word. He did not have a very high opinion of these French Canadian trappers as a whole; and feared lest the fellow might betray them just to curry favor with Pontiac, with whom he had quarrelled at the council. Once they were well away, Blue Jacket would find some means of communicating with the Senecas, and tell them of the prisoners in the secret grotto under the cataract.

In Indian file they started for the distant lodges of the Senecas. Winding in and out of the woods, as Kenton picked his course, they left the stream behind them.

Two miles had been placed behind. The boys had known for some time that they were approaching the Seneca town. Lights could be seen ahead, as of numerous fires. Sounds also came to their ears--voices of warriors chanting; the monotonous beating of the war drum, known as a tomtom; barking of excited curs of which every Indian village boasted its scores, most of them wolf-like in their savage nature; and even the loud laughter of half-grown Indian boys, who were perhaps indulging in foot races, or some other form of rivalry.

Closer still did Kenton lead them. Now and then he would stop, and hold a few words of whispered conversation with Blue Jacket, after which, possibly, his course might change a trifle, as he received advice.

Finally they lay down, and began to crawl through the high grass and scattered weeds and bushes. The hearts of the two boys were throbbing with intense excitement. They could see the numerous skin lodges every time they raised their heads, and it thrilled Bob and Sandy to realize that, in one of the many score before them, the little lost sister might even then be crouching, waiting in mingled hope and fear for her brothers' coming.

Not once did either lad feel the slightest fear, yet they knew well what was likely to be their fate should the Indians discover their presence. Spies they would be deemed, and, after the gantlet running, they might expect death at the stake.

Finally they halted in the last cover on the border of the village. Before them they saw scores upon scores of Indians, gathering as if in expectation of some great game or ceremony.

The crouching figures found space between the drooping twigs of the bushy screen to observe what was taking place.

Kenton whispered something in the ear of Bob, who in turn passed the intelligence on to his brother.

"War-dance!" was what he said, and both lads eagerly watched to see the wonderful spectacle of which they had so often heard, but up to now never found a chance to observe.

A painted post had been driven into the ground in the midst of the cleared space. Around this the Indian braves and chiefs gathered, all facing toward a common centre. Pontiac and some of the visiting head men were given places of honor on a rude platform, where they could remain spectators. And the great sachem was doubtless pleased at being able to observe how his fiery words of exhortation had decided Kiashuta and his warlike Senecas to dig up the hatchet against the paleface invaders.

Fires and torches illuminated the scene, casting their deep red glare upon the dusky boughs of the surrounding pines, and upon the wild multitude of warriors who, fluttering with feathers, and bedaubed with bright paint, had gathered for the celebration of the war-dance.

First of all Kiashuta himself leaped into the circle, brandishing his tomahawk as if rushing upon an enemy. In a loud voice he chanted his own past exploits, after the customary boastful way of an Indian, and then those of his departed ancestors, whose memory he honored.

And, as he thus sang and shrieked, he acted the scenes over again, sending forth the shrill war-whoop with which the foe had so often been terrorized, throwing himself into all the postures of actual combat, striking the post as though it were an enemy, and then tearing the scalp from the head of an imaginary victim.

Long before he had completed his part in the drama another chief had started in to excel Kiashuta; and, by degrees, still more, chiefs and braves, joined in the mad carnival of noise and movement, until the sight was one that neither of the young pioneers would ever forget as long as he lived.

Finally, the whole assembly, as if fired with sudden frenzy, rushed together into the ring, leaping, stamping, whooping and shrieking. They brandished knives and hatchets in the firelight, hacking and stabbing the air in their great excitement, while at intervals their cries arose to such a pitch that they might have been heard miles away over the lonely forest.

Kenton had undoubtedly witnessed this stirring scene before, and possibly Abijah Cook may also have had that experience; but the two boys stared and trembled as the war-dance grew more and more violent.

Finally the ceremony was over. Kiashuta himself gave a signal that hushed the mad carnival of noise. Once again it was possible for those who lay back of the friendly screen of grass and bushes to distinguish individual sounds.

Bob heard his brother give a long sigh, close to his ear. He knew how eager Sandy had always been to witness strange sights and explore the untracked wilderness. It was easy to understand that the boy must consider that he had just looked upon the most wonderful spectacle that he would ever see in all the days of his life.

But they must not forget why they were there. It had been with no desire to look upon any of the ceremonial dances of the Indians that they had taken their lives in their hands, and crept close to the borders of the hostile village of the Iroquois. Kate--that was the magic name by which they had been led over hundreds of weary miles, scorning peril, and laughing at all manner of privation.

Was the wind really strengthening, or did Bob dream it simply because he wished for such a thing to come about? Now that the racket had died away as suddenly as it had arisen, something like quiet settled down over the village, with its warriors exhausted by the violence of their fierce, assumed fury. And Bob, listening, was sure the sound of the breeze in the tops of the near-by pines had gained something in volume.

He knew how the plans of Kenton had been laid. There was nothing for either himself or Sandy to do, save to remain where they were placed, and wait until their allies had accomplished their undertaking.

The white men were to start the blaze, because it was asking too much of Blue Jacket to expect him to set fire to the lodges of his kind; but the young Shawanee chieftain had agreed, on his part, to steal Kate from the wigwam of Black Beaver, and bring her to the appointed rendezvous.

But how long a time must elapse before the excited owners of all these painted lodges would settle down into quiet, so that operations could begin? Sandy knew he must again possess his soul in patience. He was just about to try to whisper something in the ear of his brother when he caught a low hiss.

Undoubtedly Kenton himself was responsible for this warning. It signified that sudden danger hung over their heads. Sandy flattened himself out on the ground as though he were a panther creeping up on its intended prey. And in doing this his ear came so closely in contact with the earth that he was enabled to hear the swish of bushes, and the low patter of feet upon the dead leaves in the forest behind them. Indians were coming, running on the dog-trot for which they have always been famous!