The Rulers of the Lakes: A Story of George and ChamplainAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
History
The Rulers of the Lakes: A Story of George and Champlain
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Fiction
"It's true," he said, "that the Sun God, your Areskoui, and mine, too,
for that matter, makes no promise to us. The warriors of the
Hodenosaunee have looked upon Andiatarocte for many centuries, but
doubtless there has never been a day before when any one of them saw it
more beautiful and more gleaming than it is now."
"Yes, Dagaeoga, the waters slide and ripple before the wind, and they
are blue and green, and silver and gold, and all the shades between, as
the sunlight shifts and falls, but it is many hours until night and
Areskoui may be of another mind by then."
"I know it, Tayoga. I remember the two storms on Champlain, and I don't
forget how quickly they can come on either lake. I'm not praying for any
storm, but I do want a dark and cloudy night."
"Dagaeoga should not be too particular," said Tayoga, his eyes
twinkling. "He has told Areskoui exactly what kind of a night he
wishes, but I think he will have to take just the kind of a night that
Areskoui may send."
"I don't dispute it, Tayoga, but when you're praying to the Sun God it's
as well to pray for everything you want."
"We'll watch Areskoui with more than common interest today, you and I,
Dagaeoga, but the warriors of the Ganeagaono, even as the Hurons, the
Abenakis and the Ojibways, will go to sleep. Behold, Daganoweda even now
lies down upon his blanket!"
The Mohawk chief, as if sure that nothing more of importance was going
to happen that day, spread his fine green blanket upon some leaves, and
then settling himself in an easy posture upon it, fell asleep, while
many of his warriors, and some of the rangers too, imitated his example.
But Robert and Tayoga had slept enough, and, though they moved about but
little, they were all eyes and ears.
Scouts had been sent far up and down the shores of the lake, and they
reported that no other band was near, chance leaving the issue wholly to
the two forces that now faced each other. Yet the morning, while
remaining of undimmed beauty, had all the appearance of ease, even of
laziness. Several of the rangers went down to the edge of the lake, and,
removing their clothing, bathed in the cool waters. Then they lay on the
slope until their bodies dried, dressed themselves, and waited patiently
for the night.
The French and Indians, seeing them engaged in a pleasant task, found it
well to do likewise. The waters close to the island were filled with
Frenchmen, Canadians and Indians, wading, swimming and splashing water,
the effect in the distance being that of boys on a picnic and enjoying
it to the utmost.
Robert took a little swim himself, though he kept close to the shore,
and felt much refreshed by it. When he had been dried by the sun and was
bade in his clothes, he stretched himself luxuriously near the rangers
on the slope, taking an occasional glance at the sun from under his
sheltering hand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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