Part 26 (1/2)
”Don't do so, Miss Ruth--it's no use. Their blood is up; and there is no power in this world strong enough to control them, but force, and that we haven't got.”
”But there is a Power above us and them, which may touch their hearts. I will go.”
Seeing that she was determined to venture among the savages, on this--as Ichabod, as well as the others also, thought--bootless errand, the whole party accompanied her, and they proceeded hastily towards the grove. As they reached the place where the Indians were gathered, they found them busy in their preparations. A large number of pine knots had been collected, and a pile of pointed splinters, the object of which was apparent to them all. The Seneca, fastened to the tree, was surveying the preparations with a look of indifference or contempt; but as Barton and his party came in sight, his eyes rolled over them with glances of uncontrollable hatred. Eagle's-Wing was quietly directing the preparations.
Barton approached the Tuscarora. ”For Heaven's sake, Eagle's-Wing, what do all these arrangements mean? It cannot be that you will torture this Seneca. Let him go, Eagle's-Wing. You have done me many a friendly deed, lately--add this to the number.”
”The hearts of the pale-faces are soft,” said Eagle's-Wing. ”Let my father and his friends go back to their dwelling. The Seneca must die.”
Ralph, in turn, besought the Tuscarora to desist from his purpose. He used all the arguments which he could summon to his aid, growing out of the present condition of the Colonies, and their desire to keep on peaceful terms with the hostile Indians of the Six Nations; but to no purpose. Eagle's-Wing listened with courtesy, but declared that the Seneca must die.
”Old friend,” said Ichabod, ”you'll give me credit for understanding Injin natur' pretty well, and that I never make it a point to interfere in their lawful customs and amus.e.m.e.nts; but I can't help saying, now, that this _is_ a risky speculation. I never meant to call on you for payment of any balance of account between us; but there's no disguising that you do owe a little to me on the score of having saved your scalp-lock, ere now; but give me that Seneca, and I will balance the books.”
”I owe my brother my life, and it is his,” said Eagle's-Wing. ”Let my brother take it, if he will; it is just. But the Seneca shall go with me into the happy hunting-grounds of my nation. He shall go before me as my prisoner.”
”Let us go back, Miss Ruth,” said Ichabod. ”These Injins are perfectly set in their way. I knowed it was of no use. They won't imitate white people in their conduct, any more than they will in their clothes.”
At these repeated failures, it must be confessed that Ruth almost despaired of success. Yet she could not suffer the Seneca thus to be murdered, without making one appeal in his behalf. Tears filled her eyes as she approached the Tuscarora.
”Eagle's-Wing,” said she, smiling through her tears, ”you have refused Panther to my friends, that you might give him to me. Is it not so?”
This pertinacity on the part of the pale-faces seemed partially to irritate the Tuscarora; but he subdued the momentary flash of anger, and answered quietly:
”The hearts of the pale-face women are soft; they cannot look on the death of a warrior in the midst of his enemies. Let the pale-face girl go back with her friends.”
”You cannot mean to do this, Eagle's-Wing--you, who have been so gentle and kind to us--_cannot_ do this murder.”
”The Seneca must die,” was the answer.
”Is it right, Eagle's-Wing, to kill Panther thus, in cold blood? It is a great crime, both by the laws of men and of G.o.d.”
”Our traditions have not told us so,” answered the Tuscarora. ”They tell us that we must do so, if we wish to please the Great Spirit.”
”But have you never heard of any other tradition? Have you not heard the story of the life and death of the Redeemer of the world, and of the truths that he taught?”
The Indian seemed struck with a sort of consternation, for a moment. He evidently recollected the teaching of the pious missionary of the Oneidas and Tuscaroras, who had done so much to give the minds of the Indians of those nations a proper direction, just previous to the Revolutionary struggle. After a short pause, he answered:
”The good missionary from the pale-faces has told us the story; but it was a long while ago; it was before the war between the Colony men and the Yengeese. I have almost forgotten it. If I was a pale-face, I should love it very much. But an Indian must follow the traditions of his fathers.”
”I know who you mean, Eagle's-Wing. It was Kirtland who taught you that story. I am sorry that you should so soon have forgotten it. He was a good man and told you the truth. He told you that you must not persecute your enemies; but that you must forgive them, and that the Great Spirit will like you better for it.”
”How know that?” asked Eagle's-Wing abruptly, and with a kind of superst.i.tious feeling, that Ruth should be able to repeat the instructions which, in his ignorance, he supposed she could not have understood, without having listened to the missionary, herself. ”How know that! That was great many years ago, when the pale-face girl was a child.”
”I know that he told you so,” replied Ruth, ”because he must have told you what the new tradition was. He told you that the Redeemer came down from Heaven, and how he died because he loved all the nations and people of the world; and how he told them that they must all love one another like brothers. Would it not be better, Eagle's-Wing, if all the pale-faces and all the Indians thought so?”
The Tuscarora cast down his eyes, while he answered: ”It _would_ be better, if they would think so; but they do not. If the pale-faces do not, how can the Indians think so?”