The Hunters of the Hills, Joseph A. Altsheler [ereader ebook TXT] 📗

third, a Tuscarora, who had traveled many days from the south, said that Dinwiddie, the Governor of Virginia, was already acting. He was sending men, led by a tall youth named Washington, into the Ohio country, where the French had already gone to build forts. An Onondaga out of the north said that Quebec and Montreal were alive with military preparations. Onontio was giving to the French Indians muskets, powder, bullets and blankets in a profusion never known before.

The red fagots were rapidly displacing the white, and the secret councils of the fifty sachems were filled with anxiety, but they hid all their disquietude from the people, and much of it from the chiefs. But, to their eyes, all the heavens were scarlet and the world was about to be in upheaval. It was a time for every sachem to walk with cautious steps and use his last ounce of wisdom.

On the fourth night a powerful ally of St. Luc's arrived, although the chevalier had not called him, and did not know until the next day that he had come. He was a tall, thin man of middle years, wrapped in a black robe with a cross upon his breast, and he had traveled alone through the wilderness from Quebec to the vale of Onondaga. He carried no weapon but under the black robe beat a heart as dauntless as that of Robert, or of Willet, or of Tayoga, and an invincible faith that had already moved mountains.

Onondaga men and women received Father Philibert Drouillard, and knelt for his willing blessing. Despite the memories of Champlain and Frontenac, despite the long and honored alliance with the English, the French missionaries, whom no hardships could stop, had made converts among the Onondagas, an enlightened nation with kindly and gentle instincts, and of all these missionaries Father Drouillard had the most tenacious and powerful will. And piety and patriotism could dwell together in his heart. The love of his church and the love of his race burned there with an equal brightness. He, too, had seen the clouds of war gathering, thick and black, and knowing the power of the Hodenosaunee, and that they yet waited, he had hastened to them to win them for France. He was burning with zeal and he would have gone forth the very night of his arrival to talk, but he was so exhausted that he could not move, and he slept deeply in one of the houses, while his faithful converts watched.

Robert encountered the priest early the next morning, and the meeting was wholly unexpected by him, although the Frenchman gave no sign of surprise and perhaps felt none.

"Father Drouillard!" he exclaimed. "I believed you to be in Canada! I did not think there was any duty that could call you to the vale of Onondaga!"

The stern face of the priest relaxed into a slight smile. This youth, though of the hostile race, was handsome and winning, and as Father Drouillard knew, he had a good heart.

"Holy Church sends us, its servants, poor and weak though we may be, on far and different errands," he said. "We seek the wheat even among the stones, and there are those, here in the vale of Onondaga itself, who watch for my coming."

Robert recalled that there were Catholic converts among the Onondagas, a fact that he had forgotten for the time, and he realized at once what a powerful factor Father Drouillard would be in the fight against him.

"The Chevalier de St. Luc has been here for some time," he said, "waiting until the fifty sachems are ready to hear him in council, when he will speak for France. Mr. Willet and I are also waiting to speak for England. But the Chevalier de St. Luc and I are the best of friends, and I hope, Father Drouillard, that you, who have come also to uphold the cause of France, will not look upon me as an enemy, but as one, unfitting though he may be, who wishes to do what he can for his country."

Father Drouillard smiled again.

"Ah, my son," he said, "you are a good lad. You bore yourself well in Quebec, and I have naught against you, save that you are not of our race."

"And for that, reverend sir, you cannot blame me."

Father Drouillard smiled for the third time. It was not often that he smiled three times in one day, and again he reflected that this was a handsome and most winning lad.

"Peace, my son!" he said. "Protestant you are and Catholic am I, English you are and French am I, but no ill wind can ever blow between you and me. We are but little children in the hands of the Omnipotent and we can only await His decree."

Robert told Willet a little later that Father Drouillard had come, and the hunter looked very grave.

"Our task has doubled," he said. "Now we fight both St. Luc and Father
Drouillard, the army and the church."

CHAPTER XVI THE GREAT TEST

While Robert and Willet had been glad hitherto that the council of the fifty sachems had delayed its meeting, they were anxious, now that Father Drouillard had come, to hasten it. That the army and the church, that is the French army and the French church, were in close alliance, they soon had full proof. The priest and the chevalier were much together, and Robert caught an occasional flash of exultation in St. Luc's eyes.

The new influence was visible also among a minority of the Onondagas. The faith of the converts was very strong, and Father Drouillard was to them not only a teacher but an emblem also, and through him, a Frenchman, they looked upon France as the chosen country of the new God whom they worshiped. And Father Drouillard never worked harder than in those fateful days. His thin face grew thinner, and his lean figure leaner, but the fire in his eyes burned brighter. The fifty sachems said nothing. Whether they were for the priest or against him, they never interfered with his energies, because without exception they respected one who they knew sought nothing for himself, who could endure hardship, privation and even torture as well as they, and who also had the gift of powerful and persuasive speech.

The other nations too, except one, listened to him, though less than the Onondagas. The fierce and warlike Mohawks would have none of him, nor would they allow St. Luc to speak to them. Never could a single Mohawk warrior forget that Stadacona was theirs, though generations ago it had become French Quebec. They recalled with delight the numerous raids they had made into Canada, and their many wars with the French. Robert saw that one nation, and it was the one standing on an equality with the Onondagas, was irreconcilable. When the council met the nine sachems of the Mohawks, and their names would be called first, would prove themselves to the last man the bitter and implacable enemies of the French. So, feeling that he was right and loving his own country as much as the priest and the chevalier loved theirs, he deftly worked upon the minds of the Mohawks. He talked to the fiery young chief, Daganoweda, of lost Stadacona that he had seen with his own eyes. He spoke of its great situation on the lofty cliffs above the grandest of rivers, and he described it as the strongest fortress in America. The spirit of the young Mohawk responded readily. Robert's appeal was not made to prejudice. He felt that truth and right were back of it. As he saw it, the future of the Hodenosaunee lay with the English, the French could never be their real friends, the long breach between Quebec and the vale of Onondaga could not be healed.

He had an able and efficient assistant in Tayoga, who was devoted to the alliance with the English and the Americans, and who was constantly talking with the sachems and chiefs. Willet, too, who had a long acquaintance with all the nations of the Hodenosaunee, and who had many friends among them, used all his arts of persuasion, which were by no means small, and thus the battle for the favor of the Iroquois went on. The night before the council was to be held, Tayoga, his black eyes flashing, came to Robert and the hunter and they talked together for a long time.

The great council was held the next day in the grove devoted to that purpose, the entire ceremony being Greek in its simplicity and dignity, and in its surroundings. The fifty sachems, arrayed in their finest robes, sat once more in a half circle, save that Tododaho, the Onondaga, was slightly in front of the others, with Tonessaah at his elbow. The nine Mohawk chiefs, fierce and implacable, sat close together, and long before the appeals of England and France were begun Robert knew how they would vote.

The effort that he would make had already taken definite shape in his mind. He would be moderate, he would not ask the Hodenosaunee to fight for the English and Americans, he would merely ask the great nations to refuse the alliance of the French, and if they could not find it in their hearts to take up the tomahawk for their old friends then to remain at peace in their villages, while English and French fought for the continent.

Spring was now far advanced. Robert had never seen the forest in deeper green and he had never looked up to a bluer sky than the one that bent over them, as they walked toward the council grove. His heart was beating hard, but it was with excitement, not with fear. He knew that a great test was before him, but his mind responded to it, in truth sprang forward to meet it. The breeze that came down from the hills seemed to whisper encouragement in his ears, and the words that he would speak were already leaping to his lips.

A great crowd, men, women and children, was gathered about the grove, and like the sachems they were clothed in their best. Brilliant red, blue or yellow blankets gleamed in the sun's rays, and the beads on leggings and moccasins of the softest tanned deerskin, flashed and glittered. Robert, with his memories of the Albany school still fresh, thought once more of the great Greek and Roman assemblies, where all the people came to hear their orators discuss the causes that meant most. And then his pulse leaped again and his confidence grew.

Tododaho spoke first, and when he rose there was a respectful silence broken only by the murmurs of the wind or the heavy breathing of the multitude. In a spirit of love and exhortation he addressed his people, all of the six great nations. He told them that the mighty powers beyond the sea, England and France, who with their children divided nearly the whole world between them, were about to begin war with each other. The lands occupied by both bordered upon the lands of the Hodenosaunee, and the storm of battle would hover over all their castles and over the vale of Onondaga. It was well for them to take long and anxious thought, and to listen with attention to what the orators of the English and the French would have to say.

Then Father Drouillard spoke for France. He made an impressive figure, wrapped in his black robe, his eyes burning like coals of fire in his thin, dead white face. Near him on the right, his Onondaga converts were gathered, and he frequently looked at them as he told the fifty sachems that France, the greatest and strongest son of Holy Church, was their best friend, and their fitting ally. Such was the thread of his discourse. He struck throughout the priestly note. He appealed not alone to their sense of right in this world, but to the deeds they must do to insure their entrance into the world to come. France alone could lead them in the right path, she alone thought of their souls.

The priest spoke with intense fervor, using the tongue of the Indians with the greatest clearness and purity. His sincerity was obvious. Neither Robert nor Willet could doubt it for an instant, and they saw, too, that it was making an impression. Deep murmurs of approval came often from the converts, and now and then the whole multitude stirred in agreement. But the fifty sachems, all except the nine Mohawks, sat as expressionless as stones. The Mohawks did not move, but the stern, accusing gaze they bent upon the priest never relaxed. As Robert had foreseen, the most eloquent orator might talk a thousand years, and