The Hunters of the HillsAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
History
The Hunters of the Hills
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Fiction
There was no mistaking the traces, and Robert felt intense satisfaction.
If hostile Indians, led by Frenchmen, were invading the territory of the
Hodenosaunee, then it would be very hard indeed for Duquesne and Bigot
to break up the ancient alliance of the great League with the English.
But he was quite sure that no one of the flying Frenchmen was St. Luc.
The chevalier was too wise to be caught in such a trap, nor would he
lend himself to the savage purposes of Tandakora.
"Behold, Daganoweda," he said, "the sort of friends the French would be
to the Hodenosaunee. When the great warriors of the Six Nations go to
the vale of Onondaga to hear what the fifty sachems will say at their
council, the treacherous Hurons and Caughnawagas, led by white men from
Montreal and Quebec, come into their land, seeking scalps."
The power of golden speech was upon him once more. He felt deeply what
he was saying, and he continued, calling attention to the ancient
friendship of the English, and their long and bitter wars with the
French. He summoned up again the memory of Frontenac, never dead in the
hearts of the Mohawks, and as he spoke the eyes of Daganoweda and his
comrades flashed with angry fire. But he did not continue long. He knew
that at such a time a speech protracted would lose its strength, and
when the feelings of the Mohawks were stirred to their utmost depths he
stopped abruptly and turned away.
"'Twas well done, lad! 'twas well done!" whispered Willet.
"Great Bear," said Daganoweda, "we go now to the vale of Onondaga for
the grand council. Perhaps Tayoga, a coming chief of the clan of the
Bear, of the great nation Onondaga, will go with us."
"So he will," said Willet, "and so will Robert and myself. We too wish
to reach the vale of Onondaga. An uncommonly clever Frenchman, one
Chevalier Raymond de St. Luc, has gone there. He is a fine talker and he
will talk for the French. Our young friend here, whom an old chief of
your nation has named Dagaeoga, is, as you have heard, a great orator,
and he will speak for the English. He will measure himself against the
Frenchman, St. Luc, and I think he will be equal to the test."
The young Mohawk chieftain gave Robert a look of admiration.
"Dagaeoga can talk against anybody," he said. "He need fear no
Frenchman. Have I not heard? And if he can use so many words here in the
forest before a few men what can he not do in the vale of Onondaga
before the gathered warriors of the Hodenosaunee? Truly the throat of
Dagaeoga can never tire. The words flow from his mouth like water over
stones, and like it, flow on forever. It is music like the wind singing
among the leaves. He can talk the anger from the heart of a raging
moose, or he can talk the otter up from the depths of the river. Great
is the speech of Dagaeoga."
Robert turned very red. Willet laughed and even Tayoga smiled, although
the compliment was thoroughly sincere.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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