^\2

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT.3)

1.0

tiiM23. |2.5

^ " HE

1.4 il.6

11.25

cjfe

'^v^*
■%

'^ >

<f3

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

33 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 873-4503

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHIVI/ICIVIH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microroproductions

Institut Canadian da microroproductions historiquos

1980

Tachnical and Bibliographic Notaa/Notea tachniquaa at bibliographiquaa

Tha Inatituta haa attamptad to obtain tha baat
original copy availabia for filming. Faaturaa of thia
copy which may ba bibliographically uniqua.
which may altar any of tha imagaa in tha
raproduction. or which may aignificantiy changa
tha uaual mathod of filming, ara chackad balow.

D
D

Coiourad covara/
Couvartura da coulaur

I I Covara damagad/

Couvartura andommagte

Covara raatorad and/or laminatad/
Couvartura raatauria at/ou paiiiculAa

I I Covar titia miaaing/

La titra da couvartura manqua

I I Coiourad mapa/

Cartas gAographiquas an coulaur

Coiourad ink (i.a. othar than blua or black)/
Encra da coulaur (i.a. autra qua blaua ou noira)

r~~| Coiourad platas and/or Illustrations/

Planchas at/ou illustrations an coulaur

Bound with othar matarial/
Reii6 avac d'autras documants

Tight binding may causa shadows or distortion
along Intarior margin/

La reliure sarr^e paut causer da I'ombre ou da la
distortion la long da la marga intiriaura

Blank laavas addad during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these
have been omitted from filming/
11 se peut que certainaa pages blanches ajouties
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans la texte,
mais, lorsque cela Atait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas At A fiimias.

Additional comments:/
Commentaires suppl6mentaires:

L'Institut a microfilm* la mailleur exempiaira
qu'il lui a At* poaaibia da aa procurer. Lea dAtaiis
da cat examplaira qui aont paut-Atre uniquaa du
point da vua bibliographiqua, qui peuvent modifier
une image reprodulte, ou qui peuvent exiger une
modification dana la mAthoda normale de filmage
aont indiquAa ci-daaaoua.

I I Coloured pagea/

Pagea de couleur

Pagea damaged/
Pages endommagAaa

□ Pagea raatorad and/or laminated/
Pagea reataurAas at/ou paliiculAes

\~^ Pages diacoiourad, stained or foxed/
UlJ Pages dAcoiorAes, tachetAes ou piquAes

□ Pages detached/
Pages dAtachAes

Showthrough/
Transparence

Quality of prir

Qualiti inAgale de I'impression

Includes supplementary matari{
Comprend du material supplAmentaire

Only edition available/
Seule Edition disponible

I I Showthrough/

I I Quality of print varies/

I I Includes supplementary material/

r~~| Only edition available/

Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc., have been refiimed to
ensure the best possible image/
Las pagea totalement ou partieiiement
obscurcies par un feuiilet d'errata, une pelure,
etc., ont At* filmAes A nouveau de fapon d
obtenir la meilleure image possible.

This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/

Ce document est film* au taux da reduction indiquA ci-daaaoua.

10X

14X

18X

22X

26X

aox

12X

16X

20X

24X

28X

32X

The copy filmed here hes been reproduced thanks
to the generosity of:

National Library of Canada

L'exemplaire filmA fut reproduit grAce A la
ginirotit* de:

BibliothAque nationale du Canada

The images appearing here ere the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in iceeping with the
filming contract specifications.

Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copies are filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol —^(meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"),
whichever applies.

Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:

Les images suivantes ont MA reproduites avec le
plus grand soin. compte tenu de la condition at
de la nettet* de I'exempieire film*, et en
conformity avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.

Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprimte sont filmAs en commenpant
par le premier plet at en terminant soit par la
dernlAre pege qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second
plat, salon le cas. Tous les sutres exempleires
onginaux sont f ilmte en commen^ant par la
premiere page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminent par
la derniAre page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.

Un des symboles suivants apparettra sur la
dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symboie — ► signifie "A SUIVRE", le
symbols V signifie "FIN".

Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc.. peuvent Atre
filmte A des taux de rMuction difftrents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre
reproduit en un seul clichA. il est film* A partir
de I'angle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite.
et de haut en bas. en prenant le nombre
d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants
illustrent la mAthode.

32X

FATHER LAVAL;

OR, THB

JESUIT MISSIONARY:

BY
JAMES McSHEJftRY, Esq.,

AUTHOR or "A BISTORT OF XARTLAXD," *'WIUJTOFT," BTO.

BALTIMORE:

PUBLISHED BY JOHN MURPHY & CO.

182 Baltimori Strii*.

1S69.

Entered, according to Act of Congrens, in the year 1800, hf

JOHN MURPHY,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for
the District of Maryland.

THIS LITTLE STORY WAS DEDICATED'

TO A

llind anil |l)|ei[tionat< 4athei(,

AND IS NOW

INSCRIBED TO HIS MEMORY

BY A

(5xnttiul j$0n*

I :

• ■

' }

Uhi^iii lap f'^^wm

•mmm-^^^t^^^

wmmm

PREFACE.

IHE intention of the writer of the fol-
lowing talc has been to portray, at least
indistinctly, one of those magnificent
scenes in which the Jesuits of the Canada mis-
sions were actors, in the early settlement of that
country. The sufferings of the missionary, his
indomitable courage in the apostolate, and the
effect of Christianity upon the Indian convert,
are the principal points of the picture which he
has desired to present, though he has not dared
to enter into all the terrible details of the
Mohawk torture, as it was too often endured
by those patient and heroic martyrs. The foun-
dation of the story is laid upon the history of

w^p

w^^^^mmm^

m^^m

PREFACE.

^:l

Father Isaac Jogucs; though the rescue in the
narrative is entirely fictitious^ yet its general
bearing is not at variance with the results of
his adventures.

Since its first issue^ this story has received
the compliment of a republication in England,
and has obtained the favorable notice of the
Catholic press of this country.

It has been for some time out of print, and
having been revised and enlarged, the Pub-
lishers take pleasure in again ofiering it to the
public in a new and more inviting dress.

^ t^ A H^X

U^Cf^ft.^^^^

CONTENTS

I. The Missionary

II. The Departurb M

III. Tjie Instrlotion 28

IV. Night upon the Waters .... 85
V. The Conflict 67

VI. The Morn • . 78

VII. The Return .' . 91

VIII. Baptism in Bondage 108

IX. The Councii, 184

X. The Torture 166

XI. The Wreath of Wild Flowers . . . 190

XII. The Conclusion 203

;

FATHER LAVAL.

CHAPTER I.

THE MISSIONARY,

|N the year of our Lord 1642 the various
missionary stations of the Jesuits through-
out Canada, or New France, as it was
then called, were threatened with all the wild
fury of the savage and untamable Iroquois. Tho
Five Nations had proved themselves the most un-
conquerable in their hostility to the white man|
to the religion which he taught, and the civili-
zation which he endeavored to introduce. In
vain had overtures of peace been made. For a
time, perhaps, as if slumbering from indolence
or exhaustion, they ceased to ravage, but it was

■1

THE MISSIONARY,

f»8

only to break forth again with more furious en-
ergy. Their bands of braves " ranged the illim-
itable forests/' with no power to control them,
and no rivals whom they dreaded. They trav-
ersed the St. Lawrence and lakes Erie and On-
tario, and they struck their enemy upon the
shores of Lake Champlain.

Every missionary on his way to his distant
station ^vas in constant danger of captivity and
death; and yet never were those stations left
unfilled for want of brave and devoted men to
dare all the terrors of the route, and the chances
of enduring the torture at the villages of the
Mohawks. The path to the Huron missions was
perhaps more completely beset than any other,
for the Iroquois had succeeded in cutting oif, or
at least in interrupting, the communication be-
tween Upper and Lower Canada. They had
possession of the intermediate passes.

In Quebec, in that year, the feast of St. Igna-
tius, the founder of the Society of Jesus, was
celebrated with no ordinary splendor. The fa-
thers on that joyous occasion offered up with full
hearts the glorious crown of souls, gathered •frou^

THE MISSIONARY,

the wilderness — gathered up to the "greater
honor of God " by the sons of St. Ignatius, from
the wandering children of the forest. It was no
feeling of earthly glory or of human pride that
swelled within their hearts as they raiseil them
up towards heaven, throbbing high with exulta-
tion. It was not the triumph which lightens up
the eye of the worldly conqueror and curls his
lip, that made their step more stately, and their
pale features glow with an unwonted flush.
They were spiritual soldiers; and they felt, in
their hearts, the glory of their calling, and the
martial joy of victory over the infernal enemy
against whom they battled. Many a full, deep
voice trembled as it chanted tlij solemn service;
age prayed with its chastened calmness; youth
vowed to make itself more worthy of the glorious-
founder under whose banners they were enlisted
in the service of God. Deep was the feeling that
pervaded all hearts on that memorable festival.

Among the priests who knelt at the altar, was
one remarkable for his worn and sunburnt aspect.
A little beyond the full prime and strength of
man1ioo<l^ with the nobility of nature stamped

"ww'»'^w!im«i!ipiilBi

mmm

THE MISSIONARY.

upon his bro\v, he was a man calculated to strike
the attention of all who looked upon him. And
yet there was nothing hard or stern in those
grave, calm features ; they were the true picture
of a good and gentle heart, a mind tutored in the
patient and enduring school of Xavier and Loy-
ola, a will subdued and mortified. Father Jean
Laval was preparing himself for a renewal of his
arduous mission in the western wilderness. A
few weeks of rest and relaxation had elapsed
fiince he had completed the perilous voyage from
the missions at the falls of St. Mary, between
la];es Huron and Superior, and now he was
assisting for the last time for many months, it
might be for ever, with his brethren of Quebec,
at the holy mystery of the altar. And yet the
perilous voyage before him did not appear to
weigh upon his mind. Abstracted from all
earthly things, his soul seemed only the more
closely wTapt in the contemplation of things
heavenly. Not so with many a full heart in
that thronged temple of God : but the fulness of
their hearts only made them mingle more fer-
vently with their prayers the name of him on

THE MISSIONARY.

whom their eyes now rested with such deep love
and athniration. He was going once more to
that nation of pious Indians of whom they had
heard feuch joyful tidings — who clustered to the
true altar of God in thousands ; a Christian peo-
ple in the wilderness. He was going to enlarge
the empire of the gospel, to plant the cross in
new regions, to face new dangers, it might be to
win a martyr's crown. It was a noble spec-
tacle to them, a spectacle of Christian, chivalrio
devotion.

At length the last chant of the solemn mass
ha<l ceased to swell in the crowded aisle ; the
benediction had been given, and, silently and
with holy recollection, the worshippers departed
to their homes. A small group of Indians alone
remained before the church. In a lew moments
Father Laval, in his cassock, accompanied by
another priest of his order, issued from the
sacristy, where he had disrobed, and advanced
towards them.

" My dear children," he said, " all my
arrangements are completed : we will depart to-
morrow. Our Superior so wills it."
2

M|j»gBB^iaw85s^ssiiigggrg»;= ^ ^iivi>' .itfiit^ wwwiwiiap

■ipfPiMm

THE MISSIONARY,

"It is good," replied one of their number,
who appeared to be the chief of the party,
** Ahasistari hears his father, the blackgown."

" At daybreak, then, sachem — "

"The Hurons will be ready." And the
party separated, Father Laval and his compan-
ion pursuing their walk to the house of their
Order.

" Ah, my friend, what a glorious lot is yours !
You go to carry the cross of Christ to the
heathen ! Oh ! shall we not envy you the inesti-
mable happiness of being thought worthy of such
high honor? " fervently exclaimed the companion
of Father Laval.

" No, my brother ; rather pray for me that my
unworthiness may not render fruitless the prayers
of the good and pious in behalf of the benighted
Indian. And yet it is a glorious field of labor;
80 rich, so sweet, so full of consolation ; all its
toils and dangers well repaid by the happy privi-
lege of winning souls to God."

" And happy are the auspices. Father Laval !
On this festival of our great saint, you prepare to
add new glory to his name on earth, by bringing
new children to the fold of Christ."

THE MISSIONARY.

" And to-morrow, Father Anthony, to-morrow
is the feast of ' the clmins of St Peter J '*

"Happy coincidence, my brother," exclaimed
Father Anthony. "You go on that day forth
to bind the savage in the cliains of Peter, to
win wandering children to the footstool of his
Master.' "

" Or to wear my chains like him ; but, alas ! I
am not deserving of such favor. I shall not be
deemed worthy of suffering for him who died for
me. Oh, happiness ! oh, bliss ! I dare not hope
for thee ! "

"Happy apostle! happy in the chains and
suffering you may be worthy of enduring.
We, thy brethren, seek a remembrance in thy
prayers."

" Father Anthony Daniel," said the mis-
sionary, slowly and thoughtfully, as they reached
the end of their walk, " it shall be thine next."

CHAPTER II

TUE DEPARTURE ,

|N the following morn, the first day of
August, a gallant fleet of war canoes
floated gayly from beneath the guns of
Fort Quebec. The plumed and painted Indians,
bowing their strength to the paddles, sent tlieir
light and graceful barks rapidly into the mid-
waters of the broad St. Lawrence. The sun
was just rising, and breaking dim and red
through the heavy mists that overhung the
river ; yet ere the last canoe swept into the line,
the veil of vapor began to disappear before its
powerful rays. Breaking into light clouds, it
rose and floated slowly away towards the south,
while streams of sunshine poured brightly
through each opening, lighting up the earth

with a rich glow, and clothing the plac d bosom

wmmmmmm

TirS DEPARTURE.

of the river with a robe of gold. As the mist
dispersed, the scene around became distinct in
its full bcaut}^, and tlie infant city seemed to
waken up to life and activity. A crowd of
citizens stood upon the quay, gazing eagerly
and fondly on the receding fleet, as if it con-
tained some dear object upon which, perhaps,
they might be looking for the last time.

In the rearmost and largest canoe were the
only two white men of the party — Father
Jean Laval and his young assistant, the novice,
Rene Bourdoise. Guiding the canoe in wliicli
they sat, Ahasistari, the chief, seemed to guard
their comfort and convenience as the first object
of his care.

The vigorous arms of the Indian rowers
impelled the canoes westward up the St. Law-
rence, and when the foremost was about disap-
pearing to the view of the party on the quay,
Father Laval arose in the trembling bark, and
extending his hands towards heaven, invoked
again that blessing upon their pilgrimage,
which he had already, in company with his
brethren and whole people, so earnestly besought.

2»

•wn

mSSm

■jr

•wwm^^

savBE

THE DEPARTURE,

Then, with an affectionate wave of his hand,
he bade adieu to his distant friends, and
resuming his seat, bowed liis head in silent
prayer. At the same instant a wreath of smoke,
accompanied with a bright flash, burst from tlie
walls upon the heights of Abraham, and the
heavy sullen roar of cannon swept in a moment
more across the waters, while the cloud of smoke
rose slowly and spirally towards the heavens.
Father Laval raised his head and gazed for a
single instant upon the standard of France, as it
waved over the impregnable fortress, and then
resumed his prayer and meditation. No sound
now broke upon the ear but the slight splash of
the paddle as it dipped lightly but vigorously in
the stream, and the murmuring of the rippling
current around the sharp bow of the canoe in
its rapid course.

The young novice looked upon the bright,
glad scene around him with a subdued pleasure,
now curiously watching the lithe and active
forms of the graceful Indians as they bent
their strength to their paddles, and now casting
his eye towards the glorious scenery that bor-

THE DEPARTURE.

dercd on the St. Lawrence. Perhaps scarce
twenty summers had he numbered, and yet he
seemed already to have drank in tlic severe yet
serene lessons of the Jesuit school of endurance.
Parting from the midst of civilized men, going
unarmed and defenceless through paths waylaid
by a remorseless enemy, he exhibited no fear, no
regrets; in the midst of novelty and the une-
qualled beauty of the view around, he permitted
no extravagant sign of delight to escape his lips,
lie subdued the transport of his feelings into
the calmness of tranquil enjoyment, and by his
silence and serenity won the admiring regard of
the stern warriors of the ITurons.

At length Father Laval addressed him :
" Ilene, my son, we have entered ha})pily upon
our arduous journey. How beautiful is this
earth around us, which God has given to man
for the scene of his pilgrimage. He is a good
God, my children, infinitely loving: if he has
thus cared for oar happiness here, in this sojourn
on earth, what has he not prepared for the faith-
ful and persevering servant in heaven ? Ixjt us
meditate upon his infinite goodness, and mercy,

THE DEPARTURE,

and love. It is fitting thus to begin and conse-
crate our labors."

The Indians assented witli the usual short and
mibdued exclamation : and for a space no sound
was heard save the regular strokes of the pad-
dles, while the canoe proceeded with unslackencd
epced. After some time spent in meditation,
the good priest employed himself in reciting his
office, and Rene Bourdoise gazed calmly down
towards the receding towers of Quebec until he
caught the last glimpse of the lofty flag-staff
bearing the banner of St. Dennis. As the
scenery became wilder and more desolate, his
mind began to recur to the bright scenes of his
native land, and to visit once more the beautiful
and fertile plains of France. The recollection of
home and early friends, of parents and distant
kindred, came rushing upon the youth, casting a
dark and gloomy hue upon the prospects before
him. Desolation and danger seemed to deepen
round him ; yet suppressing these thoughts with
a single aspiration, he placed himself under the
invocation of the Holy Immaculate Virgin, and
devoted himself without reserve to the will of God,

THE DEPARTURE,

It was in this spirit, and with such disposi-
tions, that the whites of the party entered oa
their voyage. The ITurons were seemingly
indifferent to every thing but the comfort of
those whom tliey were guiding and escorting to
the hunting-grounds of their tribe; and were only
warmed into life and animation by the fervor of
their hearts when absorbed in religious exercises.
They displayed in nothing that there was danger
of assault, whilst they were prepared for any
event.

Father Laval, after some time, closed his book,
and turning towards the leader of the ])arty,
addressed him:

" My son, what think you is the prospect of
our safely passing, by the waters, to the Huron
missions? Were it not better to land and cross
the forest towards the Ottawa?"

After a moment's pause, Ahasistari replied:
"Father, the way is long and toilsome for the
white man, and his trail is broad. The Mohawk
crosses the river, and his eye is keen. The run-
ning waters keep no trail, and the Huron canoes
are swift and easy. My father, I swear to thee

THE DEPARTURE,

that Ahasistari will share thy fortunes whether
of death or life!"

" To your skill and judgment I confide tho
choice of the route — the issue is in the hands of
the Almighty."

CHAPTER III

THE INSTRUCTION.

P the Indians, who coni])()so(l tho escort

of the missionaries, some were not vet

baptized. All, however, lia<l heard, with

devout attention, the preaching of the Jesuit.

Thev liad listened to him as the nies.seno;er of

wonderful tidinj^s, and had believed. ]>ut yet

the careful priest hesitated lonj^ to admit to the

regenerating Avaters of ba])tism those of their

nunil)er who, he feared, were not sufhciently

instructed in the faith of the Catholic Church.

The untaught Indian, ac<fustomed to roam

thrctugh the wilderness, with the Avorks of God

forever before his observant eves, and with incom-

prehensibilities around him, unable to fathom the

mysteries of nature, nay, the mysteries of his

own life, felt witliin himself the conviction of a

>-.

THE INSTRUCTION,

supreme, invisible Existence. With the book of
nature open before him, and nature's voice ever
in his ear, he might ^vell, by the dim liglit of his
uncultivated reason, wander into the labyrinths
of polytheism ; but it was impossible for him to
stifle or forget the instinctive belief of humanity
in the God. invisible, su})rcme over ail. The
unlettered wanderer in the boundless forests had
reached the same point of knowledge at wiiich it
had been possible for the sage of anti(}uity to
arrive. He worshipped the '^ unknown God."
But the machinery of the universe was beyond
the power of his intellect, xind he found ti minor
deity in every bird and beast and fish and tree
and stone. AVhcn the Catholic missionary
preached to him of the God infinite, supreme,
eternal, filling all space, at whose will the world
and all its life and beauty had si)rung into being,
and at whose w^ill the earth again would melt
away, who was the Creator and the Ijord of all,
and "in whom all things lived and moved and
had their being;'' to his unsophisticated mind,
it seemed worthy of the great Spirit which his
instinct had sought after in nature, and beyond
nature, in vain.

THE INSTRUCTION.

The piety and zeal and superior knowledge of
the missionary had won Iiini credence, and when
he preached to them of the Saviour who had come
upon earth, of his death and of his resurrection
for the salvation of all, and unfolded to them the
evidences of Christianity, they listened with rev-
erence to his wordt5, and cherished them in their
hearts.

In liis own canoe. Father Jean Laval had placed
two of his neophytes for the purpose of continu-
ing their instruction during the voyage, and Itene
Bourdoise, in order that he might be schooled in
the best mode of conveying knowledge to the
simple-minded savage. •- •

'" Huron, dost thou know who created thee?'
he said, addressing the elder of tho two, a warrio*
of sonic note, w^hose instruction he had but Litel5
commenced.

^'The great Spirit, who made the earth and
the waters and the forests," replied llaukimah,

^'And, Pluron,did he make the buiUilo and the
bounding: deer?"

"Yes, father; the buifalo and the bounding
deer, and all things else that live."
8

t f^mitmi f-umm^aiimmmf

^^•P

TUB INSTRUCTION.

"And did lie make thee and me like to
them?'^

" Mv fathers tauo-lit that the buffalo and the
bounding deer departed to the liunting-gronnd
of spirits where tlie warrior's sliade pursued
them as here on earth. It is wrong. The
blaekgown teacheth that the great Spirit made
man like himself, and breathed his breath into
his nostrils — heaven was made for the man
who doeth good. The wild beast dies and
perishes."

Father Jean Laval, from the foundation of
this simple questioning, took oceasion to explain
fully and minutely, and impress deeply u])on the
mind of those whom he was instrueting, the his-
tory of man's creation, and his destiny, his fall,
and the promise of his redemption, fulfilled by
the coming, the passion, and the glorious death
of the Saviour of the world. He told them how
man's nature became corrupt by his fall ; how he
became perverse through his disobedience, prone
to evil, subject to all the temptations of the
devil.

"It is that which makes the Iroquois cruel

THE INSTRUCTION.

and blood-tliirsty," said the younger nco^^hytc;
"the spirit of evil is within him."

"As he is with all bad men, my son ; as he is
with you when you indulge revengeful feelings
towards the Iroquois, when you would do them
evil for evil. You must love those who hate

you

"Shall the Huron love the Iroquois?" ex-
claimed the young warrior as his eyes glistened
with awakened passion, and his head was ele-
vated in disdain; "shall the dove and hawk
nestle together?"

" Is the Huron a dove in his heart ?" broke in
the deep stern voiee of Ahasistari ; " the dove is
tender. The Huron brave should be bold and
fearless like the eaiz-le."

" Let the Huron be a dove in his heart," said
Father Jean Laval, ere the young Indian could
open his lips again ; " let him be a dove in purity,
in meekness, in piety, in love. Let him be the
eagle of his tribe when he battles in a just and
lawful

cause
father

has spoken well," replied the

chief, in a chanjrcd and softened tone.

THE INSTRUCTION.

" Yes, my dear children, your first duty is to
God, tlie great Spirit; your next is to your neigh-
bor. The good Spirit created you and all men
to love him and serve him, and he commands
you to love one another, even your enemies ; to
do good to those that hate yon. If the Iroquois
is fierce and bad, pity him, and pray that he may
become better, — that he may listen to the mes-
sengers of Christ. If you hate the Iroquois, in
what are you better than he?"

" It is good," said Ahasistari, " it is like a God
to forgive."

And then Father Laval proceeded to inculcate
upon his hearers tlie virtues which were neces-
sary to, and which adorned the Christian, show-
ing how the principles of religion were entwined
around all the ties of life, and how they were
connected with and ruled every circumstance of
our mortal existence. He instructed them in the
rules which should govern them in their inter-
course with all men, and the charity so sublime
and superhuman which they shouhl cultivate in
their hearts. Thus seizing every word and every
trifling circumstance, he made them the occasion

THE INSTRUCTION.

and the vehicle of useful instruction, and the
means of initiating them into the spirit and
practice as well as the doctrines of tiie Catholic
Church.

Occasionally, to relieve their minds and to
break the continuous length of his instructions,
he would interpose a prayer, and occupy himself
in teaching them the responses to the litanies and
the })rayers of the rosary. They listened with
docility, and learned with quickness the portions
assigned to them, and the warriors seemed to vie
with each other in acquiring that great and sui)er-
eminent knowledge which the father of the black-
gown dispensed to them. Thrice a day, morning,
noon, and night, the Jesuit and Rene Bourdoise
the novice, in accordance with their previously
adopted resolution, recited a portion of the rosary
to procure, ihrough the intercession of the mother
of God, the blessings of heaven upon their mis-
sion. Ahasistari and the Catholic Indians joined
in the responses with devoutness, and seemed
never to weary under their labors while thus
cheered with the refreshing dew of prayer.

In this pious occupation the day passed pleas-
8*

THE INSTRUCTION,

antly and quickly roiiiul. Father Laval, each
time they landed to prepare their frugal repasts,
assembled the whole party around him, gave
them a short instruction, and, having blessed
their food, sat down on the grass with them, and
shared their frugal fare.

As night approached, Ahasistari began to look
about for a convenient spot to bivouac upon, and
at lenjHh selected a beautiful and secluded inden-
ture in the river banks, shaded by lofty trees, and
protected and rendered almost impenetrable from
the land by the thick undergrowth, reaching
some distance back from the shore. Here they
landed, and, drawing up their canoes upon the
bank, prepared to pass the night upon the
spot. After their evening raeal had been dis-
patched, Father Laval was about to commence
an instruction or exhortation to his companions,
when Ahasistari approached him respectfully,
and said :

" My father, the Mohawk may be abroad ; his
ear is 'yv'''"^ !

' IVrlu^^s -o is better," said Father Laval, car-
ry: ,^^ out the thought of the other, without re-

in'" » I

THE INSTRUCTION.

plyino; (lircctly to his words; "my children,
meditate in silence on what voii have been tan^dit
this day and pray to God for protection, invoking
the intercession of Mary our holy Mother."

Wrappino; themselves in their blankets, after
bending their knees in silent prayer, the Indians
stretched themselves npon the ground, and soon
sunk into the light and watchful sleep of men
accustoincd to snatc^h their rc})ose in the midst of
danger. The Jesuit and llene Bourdoise did not
so easily betake themselves to slumber. For the
novice especially was in a situation calculated to
drive sleep from his eyelids until nature should
sink into unconsciousness from exhaustion. As
he lay wakeful and apprehensive, he turned his
eye frequently upon the form of Ahasistari,
which, in the indistinct light, was barely dis-
cernible to the steady gaze. Occasionally a
bright gleam from the expiring embers would
lighten up the picturesque figure of the Indian.
The warrior sat at the foot of a tree, resting his
head upon his hand in a careless manner, which
seemed to the young novice to be the attitude of
one wrapt in thought and contemplation. Aha-

■■P

THE INSTRUCTION.

sistari was meclitating ; but every outward sense
was on the alert, eager to cateh the slightest
sound or motion on the forest or upon the mur-
muring river. The stars were looking down
from heaven sweetly and tenderly, shedding a
dim light upon the moving waters, whose broken
surface reflected the countless pencils of light in
myriad forms of quivering beauty. Over the
deep silence of the forest, broken only by those
mysterious voices of the night which render the
solitude more profound, was faintly heard the
murmuring of the waters on the shore; so faintly
that the listening ear could scarce distinguish
between the almost audible stillness ol the orove
and the low music of the living but unruiiled
stream. The air was niiltj and calm. It was a
night to worship God in.

The hours passed, and the motionless form of
the watching Indian seemed to the dull and clos-
ing eye of the novice to swell into gigantic size,
and then to shrink and fade away to nothingness
until, in the imperceptible sinking of his senses
under fatigue and slumber, the beauteous scene
around him passed from before his closed orbs,

HMM

THE INSTRUCTION.

■A^

i "!•'

i '

and liis s]>irit began to wander in the sunny fields
of his own dear France.

llow long he slept he knew not, but he was at
length aroused by the hand of the Indian upon
his shoulder. It was not yet day, but every
prej)aration had already been made to dej)art,
and the kindness of the chief had permitted the
young man to enjoy unbroken, until the last
moment, the deep and refreshing slumber which
had wra])ped his senses. Leaping up from iiia
hard couch, the young novice performed his
morning devotions, and, having made his ablu-
tion in the running waters, was ready to take his
seat in the canoe the moment it was launched.
Fatlier Laval liad resolved that Rene Bourdoisc
and himself should occupy different canoes during
the rest of the voyage in order that the young
man might be employed as well as himself in
instructing the catechumens, of whom, as we have
already said, there was a number not yet fully
prepared scattered throughout the fleet. In a
few moments the dark forms of the canoes shot
out from the banks of the river, keeping within

the verge of the heavy shadows of the overhang-

THE INSTRUCTION,

ing woods, and pursuing their course rapidly
and silently towards the new fort of Montreal.
Ere the day dawned, they had proceeded many
miles upon their journey, when, striking deeper
into the current, the canoes drew out in a more
extended line, and continued on their course.

CHAPTER IV.

NIGHT UPON THE WATERS.

|EVERAL (lays ^vcrc Iiap]>ily passed In
this manner, and, althougli the progress
of the party liad been regular, the declin-
ing sun of the fourtli day found them still distant
from the sheltering walls of Montreal. As they
were now in the most dangerous portion of their
passage between tlie two forts, it was determined
not to land, but to continue tlieir voyage during
the night; the Indians relieving each other at
the paddle, and snatching a moment's repose,
while the canoes proceeded slowly, and with
diminished force, uj) the river.

Stretching themselves upon the bottom of the
canoes, Father Laval and Rene Bourdoise pre-
pared to sleep, having committed themselves to

the keeping of God. The novice had already

NIGHT UPON THE WATERS.

become in a manner accustomed to the novelty
of his situation, and its danger from familiarity
began to lose the terror which it had at lirst
possessed.

Sleep soon closed his eyes, for his heart was
pure, and he had learned to look on death too
long in the stern training of the Christian soldier
to dread his approach, come apparelled as he
might.

Ever reflecting upon life, the Jesuit is taught
to look to its last end, to value it as a means,
worthless in itself, priceless when laid down to
purchase immortal bliss. Death has no pangs
for him; for him it can not sever any earthly
ties; the only tie that binds him to this earth
leads through the portals of the tomb to heaven.
Those gates, to most men so dark and gloomy,
are but the triumphal arch through which he
shall pass when the victory over sin and hell is
won for him. Constant meditation has cooled
his passions, stemmed their rapid flow, and
taught him Avell the utter worthlessness of
earthly pride and pleasures and possessions.
He follows the command of the Saviour to the

jft^iHivar iiTiiii

NIGHT UPOX THE WATERS. 37

youth who sought tlie rule of perfection. lie
strips himself of earthly riches. He is ready
then to go forth upon the world, without staff or
scrip or raiment, to do (iod's work, prepared fop
life or death, in obedience to the will of his divino
Master.

Calmly and sweetly, trusting in the loving caro
of the mothe" under whose jiowerful intercession
he had placed himself, the novice slept the sleep
of youth. Soft tones, old and fond remembrances,
kind voices and ilimiliar names seemed once moro
to mingle in his slumbering sense, with the lighfc
murmur of the ripjding wave and the low muslo
of the zephyr that fanned his cheek. Dear faces
beamed upon him. He sat again beside the well-
worn and familiar hearth, and his gray-haired
father smiled once more upon the son he loved,
the son of his old age vowed to the service of his
God. For such was the youthiul Rene: from
childhood dedicated to the altar, breathing the
pure atmos})here of its unpolluted precincts, con-
scious even in his father's house and in his early
years of the solemn duty which lay before him
for his future life. Sweetly came the recollection

NIGHT UPON THE WATERS.

of his cliiklliood's home, and those dear old faces,
with their beaininm; smiles, meltiii^: from beneath
the frostb of years of stern study and deep holy
meditation wliich iiad schooled his heart into
higher, nobler thought, of sweeter, purer love — «
love to the Father of all fathers, eiu'-rossinoj and
sublimating all true love in Ids young heart.
But now in dreams fondly retracing many a thou-
sand lea":ue, and nianv a toilsome year, the human
spirit, true to its human nature, back to its old
affections aivl its mortal ties went hurrvino* —
but not forgetful of its own heavenly destiny. It
was pure happiness, pure infintile joy, such as in
childhood he had felt — for now it seemed to him
that once again he Avas a cliild — a thoughtless,
gay, and cheerful child — without a care, without
a fear, with no responsibility and with no feeling
but o^ the i)resent moment. The waters of the
flowing river murmured in his ear, and fancy
broke the chaniz-eless sound into some sweet old
melody once sung to him by fond maternal lips.
The light but quivering stroke of the bending
paddle, swaying the fragile bark, and its soft and
gentle motion as it cut the waters, rocked him

>a<ii<i<ii*i Mifcw

<ww

^^m

NIGHT UPON TUB WATERS.

sweetly till he lay like an infant slumbering on
its mother's breast. Thus slept the youthful
novice.

Father Laval had more care upon his mind,
and it was long befure he gave way to the weari-
ness that hung upon his eyelids. He felt that
the critical hour had arrived ; for if the company
once reached Montreal, and commenced to ascend
the Ottawa, there was less danger of being at-
tacked by a force more powerful than their own.
At length he too composed himself to slumber,
confiding himself to the protection of an all-

seeing God.

As leader of the party, Ahasistari, insensible
to fatigue when the safety of his charge might
be at issue, watched all night. To ihe enduring
nature of the Indian this v/as little, and his band
only sought occasional repose, in order that a
portion might be fresh and prepared for any
event. From the bow of his canoe, which had
drawn from the rear to the head of the line, the
chief scanned, with keen and watchful eye, either
shore of the river as they ascended. But all
nature slept, and it seemed as if with nature even

NIGHT UPON THE WATERS.

tho fell heart of man was at rest. No mark or
trace of an enemy met his eye; for even in the
dim light of the stars the wondrous- sense of an
Indian warrior might detect the presence of his
foe, and the slightest sound, tlie breaking of a
twig might be heard in the stillness of the hour
over the murmuring waters. But all things were
silent, and the chief began to ho})e that jjcriiaps
no Mohawks were out-lying along tlie river, and
that their passage would be made without diffi-
culty or danger. But he did not become less
watchful.

At length the dark starlit canopy began to
lighten np faintly towards the east. Dim and
almost imperceptible was the first precursor of
the dawn, merely a lesser darkness. Thus it
passed for many minutes, making the suiiimits
of the far hills sharper and more distinct, and
shrouding the lower forest in deeper gloom.
Gradually the view became more distinct, and
a quick eye might barely trace the forms of na-
ture. The canoes were now approaching a nar-
rower portion of the river, and Ahasistari be-
came more watchful than before. At length his

NIGHT UPON THE WATERS.

eye seemed to fix upon a portion of the forest
that overliiins: the river above tliem on their
route — then lie raised it up towards the sky
above the woods. The scrutiny did not seem to
satisfy him, and, guiding tlie canoe from the
sliore so as to bring the object more to the light,
he watched it as the barks moved on. The war-
riors in the rearward canoes observed the motion,
but with ai)])aj'ent indillerence still urged on
their fiail vessels, knowing the skill and cool-
ness of their leader. In a little while the motion
of the caiioe brought the top of that portion of
the forest opi)osite a bright clear star, and across
its ihce for a single instant came a dimness like
that caused by a thin, wiry column of smoke or
vapor.

*^ Ugli ! " exclaimed the chief, in the deej) gut-
tural tone peculiar to the Indian, and, with a
sudden motion of his ])addle, he sent the canoe
whirling in towards the southern shore under the
shadows of the hills. Then, staying its progress,
he crouched close to diminish the risk of obscr-
vatiouvby any wandering eye that might be upon

the shore. His example was silently followed,
4*

NIGHT UPON THE WATERS.

and soon the line of canoes lay within the verge
of the dark shadows, motionless and seemingly
unoccupied. Not a question was asked : no anx-
iety or curiosity was manifested ; tiie warriors
coldly and impassively awaited iJie motions of
their chief.

The keen eye of Aiiasistari still scanned the
forest with quick and suspicious glances, when a
slight sound struck upon his ear: it scesncil like
the snapping of a twig beneath a light and cau-
tious tread. The sound was very faint, but it
did not escape the ear of a single warrior, the
youngest and least practised. The Jesuit, wiio
lay in the canoe of the leader, began to turn un-
easily in his sleep, atfected by the change from
motion to rest, and his breathing seemed to grow
louder in the stillness of things around. Aiia-
sistari pointed with his finger to the slcei)iMg
missionary, and Haukimah, the neo^iiyte, stO!)|}cd
down low over the good father, and gently laid
his hand upon his shoulder. In a moment Fa-
ther Laval opened his eyes with a slight start,
but the low " hist ! " and the finger of the neo-
phyte pressed upon his lips indistinctly visible

NIGHT UrON THE WATERS.

in tlic gray light, immediately recalled him to
consciousness. A single glance enabled him to
catch at least a general idea of the situation of
aifairs, and raising liis heart in prayer, he awaited
with resignation the end, whatsoever it might be.
Simihir was the awakening of Rene Bourdoise.
The young novice had sooner fallen into a deep
and refreshing sluniber, and the first checking of
the speed of the canoe had startled him, and its
ceasin<i^ Imd ai'oused him. Observin": the state of
preparation around him, his young French blood,
fiery yet in spite of its long training to suppress
such worldly feeling, began to glow as he thought
that the enemies of France and foes of his re-
ligion might perhaps be at that moment lying
within reach, and that battle between man and
man, in which he durst bear no part, might soon
take place before his eyes. It was not without
an effort that he succeeded in restraining these
feelings, and giving himself up to the weapons
of prayer and humiliation of spirit. A young,
bright, glowing heart had Rene Bourdoise. \Va-
took, his pupil, who sat by his side, observed the
mental struggle of the young ecclesiastic, and

NIGHT UPON THE WATERS,

marked the sparkling of his eye, and his heart
swelled with a deeper afFeetion as he beheld the
subdued workings of the noble spirit within.

" Will the voT . blackffowu share Watook's
weapons?" he said in a low whisper; " Watook
has a keen and polished knife, and his carabine
is sure — they sliall be his brother's. Watook
will use the weajon'^ '-^ his people." As he
spoke, the generous yv^un^' vvc,n ior drew the knife
from his belt, aad tea-'dvd tl^ ^ns to the young
novice.

A deep blush suffused the fine face of Rene
Bourdoise. It was impossible to tell what feel-
ing most predominated in the inward struggle,
and sent the evidence of shame tingling to his
check; whether was it the manhood and the
spirit of flesh yet unsubdued within him, that
scorned to act like a woman when the strife
should come, ard yet durst not receive the prof-
fered weapons which must remain so idle in his
hands; or was it a conscious shame that his de-
meanor, forgetful of the bearing of the Christian
messenger of love and faith, had awakened in
the heart of the savage such thouglits as caused

'Hi

NIGHT UPON TUB WATERS.

his offer, when he sliouhl have been preparing
with silent prayer and resignation to win his
martyr's crown? He gazed upon the weapons
for a moment, but the training of the novice
amidst silence and contemplation, was too strong
for the impulse of the passions, and putting them
aside, he said :

" Keep your arms, my brother ! They would
be useless in my hands; I know not how to wield
them. I am a man of peace. None vowed to
the service of the altar may stain their hands in
human blood, but must submit to the trials which
are given them. Oh, my Father!" he continued
mentally, " who readest all hearts, forgive the sin-
ful thoughts which carried me away, and stirred
up the evil of my nature ;'' and bowing down
his head, he sat composed and motionless, not
less the wonder than the admiration of the young
man, who saw that fear had nothing to do with
conduct, to him, hitherto little acquainted with
the missionaries, so inexplicable.

As the canoes swung in towards the shore, im-
pelled by an occasional stroke of the paddle, the
current bore them somewhat lower down the

NIGHT UPON THE WATERS.

river. Tho descent was evident; for the trees
iij)()n the bunk seemed slowly to pass by them, as
it were, giving tlic a|)pearanee of rest to the
canoes. The Indians did not endeavor to keep
them on their former course, but permitted them
to clroj) gently down the stream. Father Laval
kept his eye intently fixed upon the forest; but
he found it difficult to p(Mietrate the darkness
which slirouded it. The canoes had now reached
a point where the undervrood was not so thick as
that above, and where there was little danger of
an ambush. Ahasistari again emitted a low ex-
clamation, and pointed towards an open })art of
the forest. The eye of Father Laval followed
the direction, and up the stream, in the rear of
the heavy underwood, he caught a momentary
glimpse of the dying embers of a fire. The thick
trunk of a tree in the next instant concealed it
from his sight. There was no sign of life or
motion near it or around it. He again assumed
his place at the bottom of the canoe, from which
he had raised himself to look around. The eye
of the chief was now turned upon the portion of
the forest immediately before them, and he held

■ -
i •••

mmmmmmm

NIGHT UPON THE WATERS.

a consul tatioii in low tones with the old warrior
by Ills side.

" Ilaukimali, the trail is there," he said, point-
ing to a spot which seemed to the Jesnit, who
again raised Iiis head as the chief spoke, to pre-
sent no marks bv which to distinguish it from
the banks above or below it.

*' Yes, the Mohawk has left it broad — a yen-
gecse might follow in it: the Mohawk is cun-
nnig!

" He is a wolf, but he leaves his trail like a bear."

Tlie old Indian shook his head doubtingly,
and, after a moment's pause, replied :

^' The Iroquois can hide his trail if he will; —
he is strong, he has left a broad trail."

^' He is weak ; a fox making the trail of many
wolves to frighten the hunter ! If he were strong
he would lie hid like the panther who springs on
the passing elk."

" He is not waiting for his prey : he has stricken
it near the wigwams of the pale-face, and has
borne it away. He is strong and fears not pur-
suit ; his fire is burning out ; he has gone ; " and
Haukimah pointed towards the south.

NIGHT UPON THE WATERS,

It did not seem improbable that the p«rty of
Mohawks had passed on by that route during the
night, leaving their camp-fire behind them unex-
tinguislied, and their trail so broad as to negative
the idea of an ambush at that spot ; yet the chief
determined to reconnoitre more closely before he
ventured to pass onwards in front of the suspi-
cious spot, and thus expose his party to the cer-
tainty of discovery and pursuit.

The light had already become more distinct,
and the marks about which the warriors diflered
became at last visible to Father Laval himself,
though, had not his attention been directed to the
spot, he could not have discovered tlieir existence.
The low bushes on the edge of the water were
displaced and beaten do^vn, though portions
Beemed as if carefully replaced, while the under-
wood above on the higher portion of the bank,
which extended upwards a few feet from the sur-
face of the water, presented on their lower branches
bent and broken boughs and torn leaves, as if
done by the grasp of persons carelessly ascending.
The (Janoes still continued to near the shore, and
were kept by the occasional stroke of the paddle

■iL-

■MM

NIOUT UPON THE WATERS,

from descencling farther down the current. They
were now within a very short distance of the
bank, but it was impossible to discover there the
least evidence of life or motion, and the two
Frenchmen began to comfort themselves M'ith
the reflection that the Indians had departed, and
that nothing was to be a])prehended. The Hu-
rons, however, were still silent and watchful,
cautiously concealing as much of their bodies as
they could in their canoes. The chief again
turned, and spoke in a low tone to Haukimah.

" How many does my brother count upon the
sand ? " and he pointed to the bank at the edge
of the water.

The old warrior held up three fingers.

" Yes, there w^re but three canoes of them,"
said Ahasistari ; " there is nothing to fear."

Father Laval looked in wonder for indications
from which the warriors had drawn their conclu-
sion, but in vain. To the Indian they were plain
enough. It seemed that the Mohawks, if Mo-
hawks they were, had proceeded with an utter
disregard of the usual precautions which Indians,
especially in an enemy's country, adopted to

NIOIIT UPON THE WATERS.

conceal their patli. On the sand the p^;wits of
moccasined feet were stamped deeply, but were
scarcely perceptible in the dim light; and in three
places, close together, the indentures made by
the bow of a canoe, carelessly dragged from the
water, were indistinctly seen. Whilst the two
chiefs more closely examined the shore to dis-
cover if any deception were practised upon them,
the canoe in which the novice was placed shot up
towards them, and the young Indian Watook,
uttering a hiss like that of the water-snake, — so
like, that Father Laval involuntarily started with
disgust at the seeming proximity of the imaginary
reptile, — exclaimed, " The Mohawk ! ''

Every eye followed the direction of his ex-
tended hand, and at the moment a dusky form
was seen darting rapidly from one tree to another,
lower down and nearer the canoes. An instant
after a wild yell broke from the forest ; the flash
of rifles lit up its dark shades and gleamed upon
the waters ; a cloud of arrows rattled doAvn upon
them, and half stifled groans arose from the
canoes. Every shot came from above, none as
yet from the forest in front or below the canoes.

NIGHT UPON THE WATERS,

None was returned. Covei*ed with dense smoke,
and eonceulcd in their coverts, tlie unseen I'oe
would have suffered little from the fire of the
canoes had tliey returned it. The moment that
the yell broke out, Fatiier Laval felt the liiilit
boat sprin<^ suddenly in the water, impelled by
the powerful arms of the llurons, who sternly
and silently bent to their paddles, hopino- to
reach a cover, and make successful defence.
The discovery, the war-cry, md the rattling
volley followed each other almost instantaneous-
ly; but the impulse to tlic light barks had been
so qnick and strong that ere the volley pealed,
they had cleared half the space towards the shore.
It was a fortunate movement ; the rapidity of
their progress had rendered the aim of their
ambushed foes uncertain, with the clumsy and
unsure weapons with wdiich the Dutch of New
York scantily furnished them in their trade.
But the speed of the canoe began to relax,
broken paddles floated in the w^ater, and the
Indians who had borne them crouched low,
grasping their arms, and watching intently for
some object, head, leg, or arm, to aim at. The

52 NIGHT UPON THE WATERS.

Jesuit felt the water slowly rising around his
feet — the canoe was riddled, and was filling fast.
Little better was the fate of the rest. It seemed
as if the foe had aimed principally at the canoes,
as if to prevent escape, and, had all their shota
tiiken effect, they must have sunk at once.

It was a moment of intense anxiety, — death
from the ambush, death from the wave, was
before them and around. It was doubtful
whether they could reach the shore. In the
midst of danger there was one thought more
painful to the Jesuit than the thought of death.
There were those around him who had not yet
been baptized, and with agony he reflected that
each pealing shot, each hissing shaft, might send
one of these unfortunate children of the forest,
unwashed from the dark stain of sin, to the
presence of his God. The shot that every
instant whistled around him had no terrors for
him : the deep responsibility of human souls was
upon him.

The old warrior Haukimah sat motionless
before him. His head was rested on his hand,
his rifle lay across his knee — he looked steadily

■"■'^mmmt.:

NIGHT UPON THE WATERS.

in the face of the priest, and marked with deep
concern the pain which shot across his features.
The liunting-shirt of the warrior was dripping
witli blood, yet no sign of pain escaped him, but
a wistful glance lingered upon his face as he fixed
his eyes upon the countenance of the Jesuit.

"You are wounded?" said Father Laval.

The Indian slowdy and somewliat painfully
bowed his head.

"And seriously — it is near your heart!" con-
tinued the priest.

"Haukiniah's last light is fought," replied the
Indian patiently: "he will go to the spirit-land."

"And, alas! you have not yet been baptized."

" I have sought it — I wait ! "

" Yes, it has been delayed that you might be
further instructed: you have been instructed — it
can be delayed no longer."

A faint smile of joy passed over the stern fea-
tures of the wounded man, and their look of fixed
determination relaxed into a softer expression.

" It is good," he said, quietly.

" Do you repent for all your offences against

the good Spirit?"
6*

3>tSl

NIGHT UPON THE WATERS.

" I liave ever loved him ; if I have offonded, I
am sorry," he said faintly.

There was no space for further questioning,
and the good jiriest arose, his large form present-
ing a fair mark to the foe ; heedless of danger, he
stooped and filled his hand with water from the
river, and pouring it upon the upraised forehead
of the warrior, pronounced the holy and mystic
words of the sacrament. The eye of the dying
Indian again lit up — a joyous smile passed once
more across his features; his lips, motionless
before, opened, and faint, indistinct words of
prayer escaped them. Then a gushing sound
was heard ; his hand moved wanderingly towards
the wound — the blood was bursting from it in a
dark and bubbling stream. His head sank upon
his breast, and the spirit of the "regenerated"
had taken its flight.

" May he rest in peace," mentally ejaculated
Father Jean Laval as he cast his eye once more
upon the scene around. It had now become
terrific. The fragile bark was sinking beneath
them ; escape by the river was impossible : escape
by the shore seemed already doubtful. The brave

NIGIIT UPON THE WATERS.

Hurons, taken at disadvantage, were unable to
display their accustomed valor. At a signal from
the chief, two warriors sprang from the canoe, and
thus lightened and buoyed up the sinking bark,
at the same moment, almost, a few strokes sent
it within fording of the land. Every man made
for the shore, grasping his rifle in his left hand,
while his right brandished his tomahawk. Aha-
sistari bounded to the beach. Bidding Father
Jean Laval to follow him, it was but a moment's
work to reach a cover in the woods. He was
seconded by a number of his braves, and ere the
last canoe had touched the shore, the sharp crack
of the Huron carabines was heard on the flank
of llie Iroquois. As suddenly the firing ceased.
The Iroquois, surprised by the unexpected activ-
ity of the Huron movement, clung close to their
coverts, and for a time a fearful and unbroken
silence hung upon the scene of death.

Upon the shore, by the side of a dying Indian,
knelt Father Jean I^aval. The cross of Christ
was in his hands, and the oyes of the departing
rested on it. AYords of holy comfort flowed from
his lips; the solemn absolution was pronounced,

^mm

'.^WBRPHPimfc,

y ^y i n « ww Ti , ' "W^;."l."u y w i i.f i m i' ' i ' -i i ^ " ^'-~'^iyx' '' ''^T^ ' ^-' ' ' " '

mmmmm

NIGHT UrON THE WATERS.

and, anointed and aneled, the spirit of the Chris-
tian warrior took its flight, in the midst of the
stern silence that momentarily reigned around
that scene of strife, to regions where neither bat-
tle nor death can come. As the last convulsive
throb of dying agony ceased, and the muscular
limbs of the warrior fell back motionless from
the death-struggle, the priest arose from his pos-
ture by the side of the lifeless body. "Have
mercy on him, O Lord ! '^ he said in a low, sad
voice, and turned away towards the forest.

CHAPTER V,

TUE CONFLICT.

IILENCE and darkness on the scene!
Not a movement in the forest — not a
ray of light, sa^'e the dim gray of the
far-oif sky — no sound but the half hushed moan
of pain, jarring sadly Avitli the soft music of
flowing waters. It was a living solitude. No
voices were heard where there were many ready
to break forth in fury; and where there were
many glowing with the flame of human passion,
no forms were seen but one. That form enclosed
a gentle spirit.

The Jesuit strode towards the forest.

Gloom was upon his patli, but an invincible

tranquillity reigned within his breast. Over the

stillness, more startling by its sudden conJ:rast

with the wild peal of battle which had ceased so

THE CONFLICT.

suddenly, came now and then the rustling of
leaves, as the ambushed foes fell guardedly back,
assuming new positions, and manccuvring ^vitli
the cautiouisness of Indian warfare. It was at
the mingling of night and morning, and the
fading stars looked sadly down their j^arting, as
it were, into the soul of the dark river.

The priest pressed on, heedless or unconscious
of the danger that lurked within the forest. He
gained the opening of a slight ravine; as he
stepped forward, an obstacle caught his foot, and
he fell to the earth. Putting out his hand to
raise himself, it rested upon a cap — he held it
up to examine it — it was the cap of Eene the
novice. A shudder passed through his frame —
there was a murmur of sorrow and prayer, a
sinking of the heart — but he still passed on. A
few feet further lay a wounded Huron. A low
sigh escaped the lips of the warrior, and he
endeavored to turn himself upon the ground,
but in vain. The Jesuit bent over the Indian,
and, in a low whisper, asked him ; *^ Son, hast
thou been baptized?"

" No, my father ! " he said, in a faint and weak
voice.

'^^^''MMffiNHMww '

THE CONFLICT.

The place they occupied at the bottom of the
ravine was somewhat covered from the position
of the Iroquois. There was yet time for Father
Laval to seek cover in the rear of his Hurons,
and perhaps escape woukl have been possible;
for the Iroquois were now busily occupied in
slowly and cautiously extending their forces in
order to outflank, and thus drive the Christian
warriors from their covers. So guarded had been
the movements of both parties, and such the
gloom, that, as yet, neither Huron nor Iroquois
had gained an opportunity of firing with any
certainty of aim, and both w^ere too wary to
throw away a shot, and, at the same time, dis-
cover their whole manoeuvre to the foe by the
flash of their fire-arms.

Father Laval arose and crept lightly towards
the river. As he passed by a little hillock or
mound, he was startled by the cracking of a twig
and a low hiss like that of a serpent. Hesitating
a moment, he recollected the sound he had lieard
in the canoe, and, reassured, fixed his eye upon
the spot until he distinguished a dark object
moving towards him, and slowdy erecting its

li m i t ni iili

I ..I l.l^..^l'^ l lin

mmmmimmmim

THE CONFLICT.

head from the ground as it approached. In a
moment more Ahasistari was at his feet, and in
a low voice addressed him :

" Father, hasten ; there is yet time to flee !
Follow me ! ''

• *' I can not," said the Jesuit ; " there are souls
to be saved — the dying to be baptized! Flee
you, and save yourself! "

"No. Ahasistari will not flee without his
father," said the Indian, drawing himself up
proudly from the ground.

"Go, chief; you have your duties, I have
mine ; the brave man does his duty, and leaves
the rest to God. Go you to yours — leave me
to mine."

" You w^ill not follow me ? "

"I dare not;" and the Jesuit pointed back to
the spot where he had left the wounded Indian.
The chieftain turned his eye towards it.

" It is not far from the end of their line ! You
Avill do your duty. Ahasistari will do his by
your side — . Hist!" he said, suddenly inter-
rupting himself, and raising his finger to demand
silence. Father Laval listened intently, and

''"i^^mmmmmm

^ffm

<imn

THE CONFLICT.

discovered the light trampling of moccasincd
feet ; then the low cry of an owl struck upon his
ear, and again all was silent.

" They are gathering for a charge/' said the
chieftain. " Ahasistari must be there to meet
them. When you hear the war-cry of the
Ilurons, know that your children are fighting
to save you. Hasten along down the shore and
seek a hiding-place." The chief stretched him-
self upon the ground, and was soon lost in the
obscurity which still pervaded the scene. .

With a rapid step the Jesuit turned towards

the river, lifting up his heart to God, as he went

along, for assistance in this trial. To fill his cap

with water, and retrace his steps to the side of

the wounded Indian, was but the work of a

moment. The eyes of the warrior fastened upon

the cooling liquid that oozed from the cap ; and

with a supplicating look, he laid his finger upon

his parched and feverish lip, and uttered the

single word "water." The Jesuit raised his

head upon his arm, and applied the cooling

draught to the sufferer's mouth. A grateful

expression passed across his countenance, and
6

■■i j iw mni^.m ■

•iUi<-lnir "SSZ^

7^7/i; CONFLICT.

Fatlicr Jean laid his liead once more upon the
turf; and, having uttered a prayer, stretched
forth his hand, about to pour upon liis head the
regenerating waters of baptism. At that moment
a heavy grasp was laid upon his bared liead^
which was drawn backwards till his uplifted
gaze rested upon the fierce countenance of an
Iroquois, whose right hand brandished above him
a scalping-knife already dripping with blood. A
fiendish smile played upon the features of tlie
savage as he paused to contemplate his work.
Tlicre was time! — A moment! oh, inestimable
moment ! worlds could not purchase thy value.
Tiicre was time. The baptismal water laved
gently the brow of the dying, and the words of
the sacrament arose — "OGod! I thank thee — "
exclaimed the Jesuit; and the knife of the savage
began to descend. A single shot pealed suddenly
upon the silence.

Ahasistari, the fearless chief of the Hurons,
had crept back swiftly to the position of his
warriors, and prepared to meet the expected
onslaught of the Mohawks. With the quick
and ready skill of the Indian, he determined to

"m mmmmmmmm mm

TUE CONFLICT.

entrap the foe when the assault should begin, and
had already placed himself, with a few chosen
men, stealthily in advance, in a nearer and more
favorable position, Avhen his eye, wandering un-
easily in search of the Jesuit, rested upon the
spot where he had left him. Dimly it caught
the form of the priest, bent back by the strong
grasp of the savage, and the uplifted knife sus-
pended. He sprang forward. To fire was to
disclose his stratagem to the foe ; to desist would
be death to the priest, lie sternly swung his
carbine into rest — his sinewy hands grasped it
as fu'mly as if the muscles had been steel. Thus
it rested for a moment, motionless ; then came the
clicking of the trigger, and a cloud of smoke, with
a sheet of flame from the muzzle, swept over his
still form. The blow of the Iroquois descended :
but it was the harmless falling of the lifeless
arm — the bullet of the Huron had passed
through his heart. He fell forward heavily
upon the priest.

Out broke the fierce war-whoop of the Mo-
hawks — shots pealed and arrows flew. Then
came the wild rush, the trampling of many feet

THE CONFLICT.

bursting through the forest covers, and the clash
of many weapons. Hand to hand, Mohawk and
Huron fought. The occasional flash of fire-arms
blazed around, lighting up the scene with its
lurid rays, which glanced upon the plume of the
warrior as he sprung forward to the charge and
sparkled upon his uplifted weapons, made the
waving forest-spray glow as if touched with
liquid fire, and danced madly along the rippling
waters of the dark river. Over the wild music
of battle, which man in his strength and passion
loves, came subdued the sorrowful moaning of
the wounded.

A few rapid bounds brought tlie Huron chief
to the side of the priest, liaising him up gently,
he said, when he saw him recovered from the
effects of the incident:

" Father, go now ! Far down the bank of
the river you will find the undergrowth thick
and heavy — keep by the edge of the water. Wo
are outnumbered; our only hope is in fli
The Hurons will remain while you remuji.
When you have fled, we also will seek safety."

" Then I must go ! " said the Jesuit, and gath-

THE CONFLICT.

remu ii.

ering up around him the long black gown which
he wore, he prepared to flee from the spot.

Ahasistari stooped down and grasped the scalp-
lock of his foe, and was about to piiss his knife
around the skin to tear it from his head. His
hand was arrested by the priest : —

" Do not violate the dead, my son ! "

*' He is a Mohawk, my father ! "

*^ He is a man — you have killed him in battle
^-do not mutilate his body. It is not Chris-
tian."

The warrior raised himself from the body of
his foe, and reverently made the sign of the cross
upon his forehead ; then, pointing the way to the
Jesuit, bounded back to his first position amid a
shower of balls and arrows that whistled around
him as he emerged from the ravine. Looking
back, he caught a glimpse of the form of the
Jesuit hurrying down the path he had desig-
nated. In the next moment the Huron chief
was in the thickest of the conflict.

Gathering new spirit from the presence of

their leader, the Christian warriors still made

goo their position against the foe; but it was
6* E

mmm

THE CONFLICT.

evident that the struggle could not be long
protracted. Yet each moment gained served to
increase the distance between the Iroquois and
their father of the black gown. At length the
thinned numbers of his warriors gave notice to
the chief that retreat could not long-er bedelaved.
At the signal, the Hurons sprung back from tree
to tree, securing cover as they retired, and, bat-
tling thus each foot of ground, they made the
advance of the Mohawks slow and cautious.

Ahasistari approached a well-tried warrior and
whispered a command in his ear, — the Indian
hurried to the rear and turned towards the river.
A moment after, a little below the landing, along
the shore where the ri])pling waves broke in a
line of light upon the sands, a dark form seemed
to rest for a moment prostrate upon the grass,
then Avith a quiet motion rolled slowly down the
slope to the river's bank, and, Avithout a single
s])lash, disappeared beneath the water's edge.
An upturned canoe was floating by the spot:
imperceptibly its motion appeared to quicken,
and when it had gained some distance from the
shore, it was suddenly righted and an Indian

THE CONFLICT.

carefully crept over the side. A yell broke from
the forest proving that he was discovered, and a
few shots wliistled around him; but seizing a
pad<lle, whicli had been fastened in the canoe, he
whirled it in defiance at the foe, and then urged
his bark down the river.

At length time enough had elapsed for Father
Laval to gather a sufficient start, and his Ilurons
betook themselves to flight, bavins^ selected the
spot opposite their last bivouac as the final i)1acG
of rendezvous for those who might escape. The
main band shnped their course somewhat from
the river, while Ahasistari, accompanied by a
single warrior, hastened to the spot to which he
Jiad directed the Jesuit to proceed.

Father Laval had tul'iied away from the scene
of strife, and was hurrying down the shore when
he heard the groan of a wounded Indian whose
strength had failed him as he crept towards the
river-bank. He paused. How could he flee?
How leave behind him so many souls to whom
his ministry was necessary ? lie turned from his
path ; he knelt by the side of the Huron, and left
him not till the shout of the pureuers, driving

THE CONFLICT.

deeper into the forest, became faint upon his ear.
At length he arose, and heedless of the words of
the chief, retraced his steps to the now silent
scene of battle. Many a time he knelt and
shrived the dying Christian warrior, or baptized
the departing neophyte, and uttered words of
hope to the wild savage. Kindly and gently,
and with almost a woman's touch, he laved the
parched lips and throbbing brow of the wounded,
and soothed their pains. Absorbed in this work
of holy love, he heard not the approaching steps
of a form that soon gained his side.

" Oh, my father, I came to seek thy body —
and, joy, I find thee safe ! "

" Ah ! Rene, my son ! heaven bless thee,'' said
the Jesuit as he gazed affectionately upon the
youth. "I believed thee dead — see, I found
thy cap upon the field. I mourned for thee, my

son.

" Yes, I lost it in my rapid flight. The young
Indian Watook hurried me to the shore, and led
me to the rear. There in safety, I watched the
progress of the fight, until it became necessary
for me to flee deeper into the woods. Making a

THE CONFLICT.

detour as the foe went oft' in pursuit, I came hither
to seek thee."

"It is well : we will die together, comforting
each other."

" If it be the will of Providence, my father."
And the Jesuit and the novice betook themselves
to their office of love. , ^.,

A young Iroquois warrior, wounded severely
but not fatally, had fainted from loss of blood.
He now began to revive; and an involuntary
groan broke from his lips. Rene Bourdoise
raised his head from the ground, whilst the
Jesuit endeavored to stanch the wound. The
eff*usion had been great, and if it continued
longer would prove fatal. No mean surgcion was
Father Jean, and he worked with a charitable
heart. Whilst the two Frenchmen «were thus
engaged, the loud shouts of the returning Mo-
hawks broke upon their ears. The savages had
observed the escape of the Huron in the canoe,
and, fearing that succor might be near, dared not
protract the pursuit too long. liedoubled yells
of joy came forth as they caught a glimpse of tlie
two most highly prized of their foes, whose escape

THE CONFLICT.

they had fcareil. Bounding forward, two war-
riors WTre about to grapple with them ; tliey
came with uplifted arms, but the Jesuit^s, un-
moved, continued to perform their charitable
labors. Father Jean had just succeeded in
stanching the flow of blood, and was smooth-
ing down the bandage that compressed the
wound; Rene Bourdoise laved the brow of the
Iroquois.

The two warriors stood still, astonished, and
then, uttering the deep, low guttural exclamation
peculiar to their race, their only expression of
surprise, dropped their arms, and, turning, gazed
on one another in unmingled wonder. They
were soon joined by their companions, who gath-
ered near bv this scene so new to them, and the
same low •exclamation ran around the group.
In sooth it was an unwonted contrast : man the
fiend, and man the angel; — the warrior, red with
blood, smoking with slaughter; and the priest,
calm and passionless, breathing peace i id charity
to all men, binding up the wounds of his enemy.
Father Jean arose, Avith his arms crossed upon
his breast, his benign features glowing with a

THE CONFLICT.

holy cntliiisiasm. The priest and the savage
stood face to face. The dark flashing orb of the
warrior slowly yielded to the softening influence
of the mild and gentle eye of the Jesuit ; sud-
denly he turned away his glance and approached
the wounded man, he laid his hand upon his
brow, as if to discover that there was no decep-
tion. Then he coldly watched the face of the
sufferer. The novice still supported his head,
and laved his brow and lips. In a moment
more the wounded man opened his eyes, and a
faint smile played across his features.

" Good, Kiskepila ! " muttered the Mohawk
chief, and turned away.

Fatlicr Jean had now time to look about him,
for he w-as left unmolested. The IMohawks had
made several prisoners in the pursuit, whom, six
in number, some of the conquerors had just
dragged up, bound tightly and securely. In an
hour more the last straggling pursuer had re-
turned, the dying Ilurons had been scalped and
tomahawked, the bodies of the fallen Iroquois
buried, and the conquerors and their prisoners,
marching iu single file and with a party in ad-

THE CONFLICT.

vance, bearing their wounded upon litters made
of boughs, left the banks of the St. Lawrence
where they had concealed their canoes, and
struck off deep into the forest, towards the Mo-
hawk villages.

CHAPTER VI.

THE MORN.

|HE sun came up over the eastern hills,
brightly and beautifully, not a cloud
across his path. His first slanting
beams fell upon the form of a tall warrior,
stealing his way down the banks of the St.
Lawrence ; a short distance behind came another,
cautiously covering and concealing every fool-
step as he passed, while to the south, deep in the
forest, might be heard the sounds of conflict and
pursuit. Rapidly they hurried on, yet carefully,
until at length the underwood became thick and
heavy, and difficult to penetrate, and the ground
soft and swampy. Then, emerging from the
wood, they kept along by the edge of the water,
searching closely for the marks of footsteps upon

the sand or clay. The examination was in vain.

7 73

THE MORN.

For a moment the tall warrior looked about in
doubt ; then, renewing the scrutiny, proceeded
down the river. But he met with no better
success. An unusual expression of pain passed
across his features, and, resting the butt of his
gun upon the ground, he leaned upon it in
thought. His dress was torn and bloody, and
the marks of many wounds were ui)on him.
The sun played brightly across the face of
Ahasistari, but his spirit was dark and sad. He
had found no trace of Father Laval. His solemn
vow was in his memory.

At length twice he whistled, low, but pierc-
ingly ; at the second time a rustling was heard a
short distance down the bank where the bushes
overhung the water, and lifting carefully aside
the leafy branches, a Huron appeared, urging his
canoe from his hiding-place. A few strokes sent
the light bark to the feet of Ahasistari, and the
rower stood beside him. The three Indians
spoke together for a moment, and then sat down
silently upon the shore. A slight noise startled
them, and Ahasistari exclaimed, ^' He comes ! ''
In a moment more a step was heard upon the

THE MORN.

sandj and Watook, soiled and stained with the
marks of battle, stood before them. lie looked
Ahanistari in the face, and then his head sunk
down upon his breast in silence. The chief
addressed him :

'^ 8i)eak, Huron ! "

liaising his hand towards the south, while his
eyes glowed like burning coals, the young brave
exclaimed: "The Hawk carries off the dove;
the jNIohawks lead awav the father of the black
gown and the young Frenchman to their villages,
to the torture: and Watook'^ — and his strained
arms pressed tightly against his bosom, as if
to keep down its inward struggle — "Watook
looked upon it."

Ahasistari sat motionless for a moment, then
looked fixedly at the young Indian, his eye seem-
ing to pierce into the depths of his soul. Not a
muscle moved ; not a nerve quivered ; but there
was a sorrowful sternness in his glance. Then
he gazed around upon the group of Hurons :

" How many Iroquois ? The days are many
before the villages can be reached — and night
and day — " and he grasped his knife express-

THE MORN.

ively. A deep exclamation of approval broke
from his two companions. Watook replied not,
but pointed to the sands of the shore, and then
to the leaves of the forest.

" It is useless," said the chief, and sunk again
into silence. At length, raising himself up to his
full height, he said : " I have sworn, my brothers !
you are bound by no vow. Go ! the waters are
open to Quebec. Ahasistari will join his father
of the black gown, and share his fate."

The Hurons drew back from the shore to the
side of their chief, and stood immovable. A
gleam of hope broke upon the mind of the leader,
and, pointing to Watook, he said : " Go ! sweep
down the river to the place of gathering ; bring
up the warriors who may have escaped, and lead
them upon our trail ; we will rescue our people,
or perish with them."

Watook's heart lx?at high. He would bring
rescue to the very villages of the Mohawks, and
save the novice and the priest. He stepped
lightly into the canoe, and, with a few strokes,
sent it far into the current. Then waving his
hand to the three Hurons who stood silently

THE MORN.

gazing after him, he steered his course directly
down the river.

" Watook hath a bokl young heart ; he will
lead the braves of the Hiirons when the arm of
Ahasistari is cold," said the chief; and the tliree
devoted warriors turned away upon the trail of
the enemy

The Iroquois marched silently on through the
pathless forest, striking directly for their villages,
guided only by that Avonderful instinct which
enables an Indian to toil on, day and night, over
hill and valley, through forest and thicket and
swamp, as unerringly as if directed by the com-
pass. The prisoners were placed in the centre of
the line, and so guarded that escape was impos-
sible. The two Frenchmen, like the Hurons,
were bound tightly with thongs of deer-skin, but,
in the midst of their sufferings, they enjoyed the
happy privilege of being together.

The hour of noon had come; the heat was
oppressive even in the shaded forest, and the
thick black dresses of the Jesuit and the novice
increased the sufferings of their painful march.

At length the party paused to refresh themselves.

THE MORN.

" Rene, my son," said Father Laval, " let us
offer up the second part of the rosary. It is the
five dolors. The recollections it contains will
console us in our sufTerings. In our misfortunes
we nuist pray to God to assist us with hi* lu^av-
cnly consolations, and to enable us t endure
them with patience. Let us offer them up as an
atonement through the blood of Christ for our
past offences."

The novice acquiesced in silence, and the priest
began the prayers. For a moment their caj^tors
did not heed the conversation of the prisoners.
Father Laval proceeded, and Rene Bourdoise
said the responses. Hitherto the captive Ilurons
had maintained a stern and dogged silence, per-
mitting no sign of pain to escape them, and
enduring, passively and with native stoicism, all
the insults of the Mohawks. But the sound of
the first "Ave Maria," in the clear voice of the
Jesuit, came like sweet music to their sullen
hearts, softening their savage humor, and sooth-
ing them into love and prayer. Gently its holy
influence spread among the group of sufferers,
and their stern features became first sad, then

I'll liiillll>l'llllTili

THE MORN.

calm ami placid, until the light of rclit^ious aspi-
ration beamed from many a scarred face turned
mildly up to heaven. The response came low
and bro]:en from the lips of the young novice,
swelling up, like a sweeping wave, as one hy one
the deep musical tones of the captive Ilurons
joined it. "ylvc Maria !^^ it came like the
thought of a loving mother, like the memory
of a holy love. Ave Maria! swelling up, in the
wild forest, from captive hearis, from parched
and feverish lips, calmed by its gentle murmurs,
to the mother of the sorrowful, the mourning.
Ave ! like dew to the withering flower, was the
sweet prayer to the stricken soul, and tears came
down the swarthy checks of the Christian war-
riors.

Amazed, the Mohawks looked u^^on the scene;
then they laughed aloud contemptuously at the
faint-hearted braves who wept — icept in captivity.

" Dogs ! women ! '^ they said ; " are the Hurons
no warriors ? Shall we go back to their tribes
to carry off a brave to torture ? Ye are women !
our squaws will beat you with whips ! Ye are
not worthy of a warrior's death/'

THE MORN.

But the Christian Hurons prayed on — Sanda
Maria! — their full, deep voices piercing up to
heaven, heedless of the scorn and taunts and
blows of their captors. At length a Mohawk
approached the Jesuit.

*' Does the word of the Medicine turn the
Huron warriors to women ? He is a magician —
let him be silent ; " and he struck him a blow in
the face with his clenched hand. The blood
gushed from the lips of the priest, and he bowed
his head in silence

In the forest from a thicket three figures,
crouching low, glared fiercely out upon the
scene; over the dark features of the chief of
these flashed the fire of anger ; his nostrils were
dilated, his lips parted, his hand grasped his car-
abine convulsively. Then as the priest bowed
meekly to the blow, the warrior released his
weapon and pressed his hands upon his brow a&
if to shut out the scene ; a low sigh escaped him,
and he too knelt and prayed. But for the meek
bearing o/ the priest, recalling the duty of the
Christian to the heart of the chief, there surely
would have been death among the conquerors

THE MORN,

in that instant. Ahasistari knelt and prayed.
The time for action had not yet come: it was
not vengeance, but deliverance that he soiiglit.

The Jesuit bowed meekly to the blow ; then
raising his eyes up to heaven, while his arms
were drawn back by the tight thong around his
wrists, lie prayed on in silence. In silence pray(?d
the captives — but the still incense of their hearts
floated upwards not lest sweetly to the throne of
God. It was the dedication of the forests of the
Iroquois to the faith of Christ.

The Mohawks soon made their repast, and
snatched a few moments of repose. The wretched
remains of their dinner were thrown tt the cap-
tives, whose hunger was left unsatisfied, while,
from the tightness of their bcids, they were
unable to enjoy the momentary rest aiforded by
the halt. The line of march was soon formed
again, and the Mohawks, refreshed by their
repose, hurried on the tired captives at a rapid
pace, urging the weary and the lagging with
heavy blows. Many hours passed thus.

Rene Bourdoise avus faint and weary, and his
faltering step betokened that without rest his

THE MORN.

strength would soon give out. In that case a
certain death awaited him ; for the captors would
not pause or delay when a blow of the toma-
hawk could, in a moment, relieve them of their
trouble.

A Mohawk warrior, perceiving his weariness,
approached him, and, brandishing his wcajion
over his head, pointed forward to the route they
were pursuing, and intimated, by a significant
gesture, his fate in case he should be unable to
ke(^p up with the party. Thus incited, the young
novice exerted himself anew, and, ever and anon,
his tormentor, as his efforts seemed to flag, assumed
a threatening povsture, or struck him with a heavy
stick which he had picked up on the march, or
pricked liim forward with the point of his knife.
The folds of his black robe were stifi' with blood,
yet the fainting novice toiled on patiently, turning
up his eyes to heaven, and murmuring a gentle
prayer for his tormentors. Father Laval, stronger
and more accustomed to fatigue, looked in help-
less agony upon the suffering of his young com-
panion; he cheered him onward with words of
liope, and then, as the cruelty of the savage

THE MORN.

increased, he consoled him with thoughts of holy
comfort.

"Bear up, my son. Tliou art the soldier of
Jesus. Thou art scourged — He was scourged.
It is a glorious privilege to die in his service;
heaven is the reward of the happy martyr."

'' Pray for me, father, i)ray for me. O God !"
continued the youthful novice, looking sadly up
to heaven, '^ O Ciod ! grant mo strength to endur'".
this trial; grant me fortitude ! "

The road became more diilicult and the pro«
gress more painful. A powerful Huron marched
near the delicate young Frenchman ; no word
had yet escaped his lips. At length he ap-
proached the sufferer, and, pressing his huge
shoulder against him, said :

" Lean on me, niy brother ! ''

At the same moment Kiohba, the relentless
Mohawk, again pricked the bleeding novice with
his knife. The youth started forward, and, with
a deep groan, fell to the ground. There he lay,
unable to rise. The Iroquois grasped his toma-
hawk with a savage exclamation, and raised it
over his head to strike the ^'xhausted captive.

ssoa

THE MORN.

It was a moment of agony. The tall Huron
sprang forward; with a mighty effort he burst
the cords that bound liis wrists, and rushed
between the Iroquois and his victim. On liis
left arm he caught the descending blow, which
gashed deep into his brawny muscles; with his
right he lifted up the light form of the novice,
and, folding it to his powerful chest, while the
pale face of the insensible youth rested gently on
his dark-red shoulder, strode sternly forward to
the front of the group of captives. Deep excla-
mations of satisfaction escaped the Iroquois ; but
no one attempted to interrupt the warrior, for
the Indian loves a bold deed.

" He is brave," said one ; " he is worthy of the
stake."

"Yes, he is a warrior; he shall die by the
torture ! "

The Huron strode on with his helpless burden,
as tenderly and gently guarding it as a father
does the. child he loves.

" Le Loup will bear his young white brother,"
he exclaimed.

Tears flowed down the cheeks of the Jesuit,

TTIE MORN.

and he raised his heart to heaven in thankfulness
for the providentiid rescue of his companion.

At the same instant the cry of a hawk was
heard in the forest, repeated thrice clearly and
shrilly, then seeming to die away in the distance
— a gleam of joy broke out on the bronzed face
of the Huron, and with a firmer and lighter step
Le Loup pressed onw^ard. He knew by the
signal that his chief was upon their trail, and
that three of his tribe were near. The Iroquois
listened suspiciously to the sound, but it was
repeate<l no more

The sun was sinkinii; low in tlie west. The
shades of the hills grew out lengthening. On the
bosom of the river the red light fell in streams,
sparkling from the summits of the little waves.
Far down its waters, many a weary mile, a war
oanoe, urged on by a single Indian, made its way.
Large drops of sweat stood upon the rower^s
brow. A moment he paused and gazed u})on
the setting sun, then, shaking his clenched liand
towards the iar southwest, bent sternly to his
oar once more.

At length he turned the bow of his canoe

rfr

THE 3I0RN.

towards the shore ; he reached it, and bounded
on the beach. Tiien drawing his bark upon tlie
sand, he stepped into the forest with liis toma-
hawk in his hand, and began to examine the
trees some distance from the water, and, finding
no marks on them, notelicd several in a peculiar
manner. As he went further in, a figure stej)ped
from behind a large oak wliich had hitherto con-
cealed him, and approaching the canoe, inspected
it carefully, and afterwards bent over the foot-
steps of the young Indian. The person was
dressed in a huntin^^-sLirt gathered close around
his waist by a leathern belt, which also served to
support a long v iirved knife and a small steel
axe. A large po>der-horn and a bali-pouch of
deer-skin were slung over his shoidder; his feet
and legs wTre protected by moccasins and leggings
of untanned skin, and his equipments were com-
pleted by a small black hair cap set jauntily on
his head, lie seemed satisfied with the result of
his exiimination, and said half aloud as he arose:
*^ Huron canoe — Huron moccasin — no Mohawk
thief — and now Pierre for ]Mons. le sauvage."
Pierre had emigrated from France many years

THE MORN.

before, and with tlie aid of his son had made
himself useful as a hunter to the smaller outposts
of tiie French. He supplied them Avith game.
In one of their excursions the Mohawks came
U})on them, and after a long chase succeeded in
killing and scalping the young man. Henceforth
Pierre considered the Moliawks as liis deadliest
enemies. He had served as a spy under the great
Champlain — a man dreaded by tlie Indians of
every tribe, and whose name had become a war-
cry io the French. Pierre was an expert woods-
man, and an indefatigable Indian tighter — well
know n and loved by the Ilurons, who gave him
the sobriquet of ""IJEspion hardlJ^

The Frenchman laughed as he entered the
forest to meet the Indian. " Ho, ho, Huron,"
he siiouted as he strode carelessly alona;. Watook
heard the voice, and springing to a tree, cast his
rifle into rest; but the dress and language of the
speaker told him it was a friend, and he came
lea|)ing towards him.

" Ugli ! L'Espion hardi ! The pale-face is the
friend of the Huron, '^ he said.

** Very true, savage, very true."

r*""

'^^

THE 3fORN:

" Has the Frenchman found any Hiiron^ here?"
and he waved his hand around.

" None but yourself, Huron."

Tlicn Watook told him of the sad misfortune
which had befallen his party, and of the capture
of the two Frenchmen, and how he had come
thither to gather the scattered Hurons and at-
tempt a rescue. Exclamations of anger escaped
the hunter as he listened to the story, and his
manner became more grave.

-" The scalp of the son of the Daring Scout
hangs in the Mohawk lodge. Is his knife rusty;
will he strike the trail of the Iroquois ? " said the
Indian in conclusion.

Pierre drew the weapon from his belt and ran
his finger across its glittering blade — and his
feeling deepened into fury as he remembered the
sad day on which his son had perished.

" Huron," he said at length in a stern voice,
"Huron! * Daring Scout' will strike the ]\Io-
hawk in his village;" then, recovering his
wonted equanimity, continued :

'^The braves probably went deep into the
forest before they struck off towards the rendez-

THE MORN.

voTis — thoy will be here yet — for the current of
the river assisted you forward ahead of them ; it
is rapid now. Let us build a fire and [)ass the
night here. No Mohawks are outlying now ; for
the party you fell in with must have been a
strong one, ai it is not likely that there is
another out. When the Hurons come in, we
will strike off through the forest to the trail of
your chief."

The counsel seemed wise to the Indian, and
they prepared to bivouac upon the spot. About
midnight the sound of a footstep struck upon the
ear of the Frenchman, who kept watch, sitting
at the foot of a tree shaded from the light of the
fire.

" Qui vive," said the hunter, who still adhered
somewhat to his old military habits: ^'Qui vive;"
but the figure approached, and the next moment
a Huron stalked up to the fire. AVatook awoke
and greeted his comrade.

" The Hurons are scattered, and will come in

slowly, for they are very weary," said the stranger.

He made no other allusion to their late defeat.

When morning dawned, four or live wrrriors
8*

THE MORN.

iiad collected, and the Iinpatlent Watook proposed
to set out.

" No/^ said the Huron who had first come in ;
"more braves come — more braves.'^

^' 'J hey are already two days' march before
us," said Watook ; but Pierre coincided with the
first. By the hour of noon about fifteen warriors
had assembled, some of them wounded, and all
Avearied. Compelled by stern necessity, that
niglit they passed at tlie place of rendezvous, and
on the following morn set out, through the forest,
to strike on the trail of the Iroquois

Night and morn came and Avent, night and
morn the captors and their captives toiled on
through the pathless forest. Still on — on went
the weary march; still on the rear of the con-
quering Mohawks hovered three dusky forms —
stern, silent, watchful.

CHAPTER VI I.

THE RETURN.

ORNING Flower, why art thou sad ? the
young eagle of his tribe will soon return.
Kiskepila will bring baek the scalj)s of
Huron warriors at his girdle : he will come baek
adorned with eagle-feathers, and the women of
his tribe will sing his deeds. He will bring
home many spoils, and will take the budding
Flower of morn to bloom in his own lodge !'^

" No, Dancing Fawn, the warriors of the tribe
have been gone many days on the war-path.
Many suns have set since the appointed hour of
return passed by. The voices of the night have
whispered in the ear of Morning Flower. Mis-
fortune is on the path of the braves. He will
return no more.^'

" Drooping Flower," said the other, drawing

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

1.1

1.25

UL t23. |2.5

• 50 "^™ RI3H

1^ 1^ 12.2

:^ lis lllllio

*¥

Hiotographic

Sciences

Corporation

33 WIST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. M5S0

(716) 873-4503

4**

fimmim^m^m\" mtiji^h I iiuij.,. I lu^mmtnumffimm

^ip^wiiupi^wwppipp

mmmm

THE RETURN.

up haughtily, " is not the blood of the conquer-
ing Iroquois in thy veins ? and yet thou trem-
blest because the braves of the tribe outlic upon
the war-path a few suns longer than the appointed
time. Thinkest thou that the Huron dogs could
withstand the invincible Mohawk? The Ilurons
are cowards : they have forsaken Owanceyo * for
the God of the pale-face, and Owanceyo has
chilled their hearts and turned their blood to
water. The Hurons are dogs ! " and the speaker
tossed her hand contemptuously towards the
Huron country.

She was a noble-looking Indian girl. Her
black eye sparkled as she spoke, and the heiglit-
ened color of her cheek betrayed the quick passion
of the untrained child of nature. The other was -
of gentle mood ; her full and liquid eye looked
out softly from beneath the long and sweeping
lash that shaded its light. Her hair was jetty
black, and, though straight, was finer and softer
than usual in the Indian race : it was braided in
glossy folds around her temples, and gathered in
a loop behind, bound up with bands of bright-

* The owner and ruler of aU things.

THE RETURN,

colored bark interwoven with beads. Her dress
was a mantle, curiously wrought with gayly-col-
ored feathers, and trimmed with tufts of elk-hair
dyed red, thrown gracefully around her form,
leaving her left arm and shoulder bare. Her
limbs were finely moulded.

Below the maidens stretched a scene of great
beauty. From two hills, covered with heavy
forest-trees, an open sward sloi>ed gradually on
either side, until both blended into a little plain
between traversed by a small stream, on whose
banks a group of children were playing busily —
now plunging into the shallow waters, and now
sunning themselves upon the soft and luxuriant
grass that bordered it. On the northern side,
where the descent faced full towards the south,
was ranged a number of Indian wigwams, in the
centre of which stood the council-lodge, rising
conspicuous above the rest of the village. Before
the doors of some of the cabins groups of old men
and children were gathered, while the squaws
were passing to and fro, engaged in their domes-
tic labors. At the edge of the forest a number of
youths were practising with the bow and arrow.

i f ! ?t ' '.'l »ij H ! i|J,-fJ ll l »

\ ) ^ ^ W' »» i»i i «"^ '< l i nn n affii ii iiniii >iiiii»n ii i i iW iii .iipn>w «wwwiB

mmmmm

THE RETURN,

The western portion of the slope was filled with
young corn, green and luxuriant in its growth,
with its white tassels and ears already blooming
out. On the southern bank of the stream swept
upw^ards a gentle ascent of beautiful grcen-sward,
gayly interspersed with the gloriously tinted wild
flowers that adorn the fields of America. Around
this little valley, like a palisade, stood the edge
of the forest, its interminable depths stretching
far away towards the horizon, until, like the
green waters of a vast ocean, its waving foliage
seemed to mingle with the distant sky.

The two Indian maidens reclined upon the
soft turf at the edge of the forest above the vil-
lage, and for a few moments gazed down in silence
upon the valley. The thick foliage of a massive
oak overhung them, and shaded them from the
warm rays of the sun.

" Dancing Fawn," at length resumed the young
girl, " the French warriors are terrible in battle,
riding fierce horses, and with their breasts clad
in steel ; perchance the braves have fallen in with
them and been cut ofll"

" False Moliawk girl, have not the braves of

THE RETURN,

our nation met the French in battle? Their
war-cry is like the roar of Unghiara * — the
Huron and the pale-faces tremble at its sound.
But listen, Morning Flower! heard you that
faint shout ? See I it has aroused the village ! "
The young maidens arose from their recum-
bent position, and awaited in expectation the
event. The village below them now exhibited
a different and more lively aspect. The youths
had quitted their pastime and gathered around
the council-lodge where the old men of the tribe
had assembled. The women had left their occu-
pations, and were clamorously joining the group.
At length another yell broke from the forest Tar
to the east, and came faintly swelling to the
expectant crowd. In a few moments more a
runner emerged from the forest, and, loping
down the hill, hurried on towards the village.
As he approached, the assemblage opened to
receive him, and he paused in silence before the
chief, who was surrounded by a group of vener-
able warriors. Kiodego f motioned him to speak.

* Niagara.

f **A settler of disputes."

■'^Wf>»»P»"^'""W»'

w"^Riw»wpp^^^"^»w»i

^IW^^""^W|PiiffP"lli|

THE RETURN.

"The braves of the Mohawks," said the
runner, "are mighty warriors; their arms are
strong, and the Hurons are dogs. The French
become women before the battle-axes of the Mo-
hawks. The warriors bring back scalps and
many prisoners; they have captured the great
medicine of the French ; they have routed and
slain many Hurons.''^ Then he "•ecounted the
names of the wounded — for of the dead the
Indian speaks not. As he mentioned the name
of Kiskepila, the son of the old chief, a deep sigh
broke from the lips of the Morning Flower, and
her head sunk for a moment upon her breast.
Then she raised it up proudly, and fierce deter-
mination lit up her beautiful features. Gloom
had passed away. Kiodego sat unmoved, evinc-
ing no concern for the misfortune of his son. As
the runner finished his recital, a shout broke from
the assemblage, which was answered from the
forest by a succession of yells, whose increasing
tone marked the near approach of the con-
querors; it was the scalp -whoop. Then came
another succession of yells, one for each prisoner.
At this signal the crowd around the council-

RI|M>MMIIOT

THE RETURN.

lodge dispersed to the different wigwams, but
soon reassembled, every one armed with weapons
of some kind; knives, tomahawks, stones, and
war -clubs. As soon as the runner appeared,
Morning Flower and her companion had de-
scended and mingled with the group before the
lodge, and now, armed like the other women of
the tribe, they hurried off towards the edge of
the forest. It would have been difficult to
recognize the sorrowing, lone, lorn Indian
maiden with the drooping glance, in the excited
form that wound amid the group, urging on her
sister furies to greater frenzy,

"The Gentle Flower," she said to Dancing
Fawn, "is a Mohawk maiden; a thorn has
pierce<l through her moccasin and wounded her
foot. She will pluck it out, and with it tear the
flesh of the Frenchman. The Morning Flower
will avenge the wound of Kiskepila ! "

The inhabitants of the village had arranged
themselves in two lines on the open space south
of the little rivulet, for by that side the war-
party, having made a detour in the forest, were
to enter on the valley. Thus the lines ran from
9 O

. u'-m

mmmm

TlfE RETURN'.

thtj south-west up towards the village. Old
women with staves, young gentle maidens with
heavy clubs, youths with knives and tomahawks^
and even the little naked children, with sharp
stones, stood waiting, with savage exultation, for
the coming of the prisoners.

The triumphant songs of the returning warriors
became every moment more distinct; at length,
far down the shaded avenues of the forest, the
front of the body appeared in view. A cry of
wild joy broke from the expectant savages, and
the two lines waved and undulated along their
whole length, as each person endeavored to catch
a glimpse of the triumphant braves. On they
came! — the warrior stepping more firmly, and
erecting his head more proudly, as he beheld the
old men of his village at the council-lodge, in the
distance, and, nearer, the women and the children
who would sing his gallant deeds, and the youths
who would learn to emulate his fame. On they
came, swinging high the scalps they had taken,
the bloody trophies of their victory, and chant-
ing the story of their actions. At length they
emerged from the forest^ and stood in the bright

MHil^

^^^mff^mi^f^^

THIS RETURN.

8iin upon the beautiful green slope of verdure.
The prisoners were groujKKl together; their
cjiptors now singled them out, preparing 'tliein
to start upon the fearful trial whicli awaited
tliem. Father Laval was pale and jaded ; his
face was scarred and bruised, and the clotted
blood still disfigured his wounded features; his
hands were yet bound behind him. A Mohawk
a])proached to sever the cord; the flesh had so
swollen around the tight band as almost to con-
coal it, and the knife of the savage gashed ihe
hands of the priest. Released from their con-
finement, his arms fell heavily to his side,
inanimate, and refusing to obey the stiff and
swollen muscles. The blood began to creep
slowly in the veins, and the sensation of numb-
ness was succeeded by one of acute pain. The
Indian then loosed the band which confined the
black robe of the Jesuit around his body. His
outer garment was next taken off, and Father
Laval stood half unrobed ; his shirt was stained
with blood, and his naked feet and legs were
torn and bleeding, and festering with thorns
and briers : every step lefl its mark in blood.

iiMiiifiiiiiiiilllii

IP"^"""

mmmm

100

THE RETURN.

The work of the Indian was soon done, and
the captives were prepared to run the gauntlet.
The tender frame of the young novice, with the
rod blood incrustcd upon his delicate skin, and
his limbs bruised and swollen, and almost help-
less, contrasted strangely with the massive pro-
portions of Le Loup, who still kept close beside
him, ready to aid him in his need. Strong, and
seemingly unwearied, the Huron stood up like a
mighty statue of bronze, heedless of the many
wounds upon his limbs and breast. "My
father!" he said to the Jesuit, as they neared
each other for a moment, " my father, when Le
Loup springs forward between the lines, hasten
on, and seek to avoid the blows of the Iroquois !
Make for the war-post by the council-lodge —
gain it, and you are safe ! "

Rene Bourdoise turned towards the spot indi-
cated by Le Loup to the Jesuit, and his heart
shrunk within him. A hundred yelling furies,
with clubs and knives, were between them and
the place of refuge, and his limbs were faint and
weary. He raised his soul to God.

"Fear not, brother," said Le Loup^ "but
gather up all thy strength."

TUB RETURN.

101

" I will trust in God/' replied the novice,
sadly.

" It is the eve of the Assumption of the Blessed
Virgin, my son," exclaimed the Jesuit. " Let us
place ourselves under her special protection. She
will intercede for our safety; or if it be God's
holy will, she will obtain for us strength to win
the crown of Martyrdom. And lo ! " he added,
his countenance gleaming with joy, and his worn
and weakened form swelling erect with enthu-
siasm, " and lo ! the blood of our Martyrdom, of
our triumph on the eve of her glorious and tri-
umphant Assumption into Hcav^cn, may become
the forerunner of her Patronajje over this new
land. With our sufferings, however unworthy,
let us dedicate it to her invocation ! "

At length the word was given : " Joggo ! " —
'* go ! " — and the prisoners started. The power-
ful Huron broke away at a swinging trot, which
puzzled Father Laval to equal. Le Loup made
for the opening of the lines: a hundred arms
were uplifted to strike — knives glistened, and the
whole gang of furies yelled with a savage delight.

The strong runner paused for a moment till the
9*

0t I ' m

ssais

wmm

'TWT|B*rt

102

THE RETURN,

Jesuit was close behind him, then bounding for-
ward, he dashed fiercely into the midst of the
crowd, casting aside their blows and overturning
many in his path. Yet he did not pass scatheless,
and, ere he had gone half the distance, the blood
was streaming from his wounded body. The
whole rage of the whippers was in a moment
turned upon him, for he had succeeded in baffling
many of them, and they wore pursuing him re-
gardless of the rest, and permitting the two
Frenchmen to escape with little suffering. But
there was one whose passion was not to be led off.
Morning Flower scorned to wreak her vengeance
upon the Pluron, for she conceived that none but
the Frenchman could have stricken down the
Young Eagle. Her eye was turned upon the
Jesuit, whom she saw passing almost unharmed
in the rear of the powerful warriors. At length
Father Laval came near her, hastening forward
at as great speed as his swollen and stiffened
limbs would permit. She grasped a club of hard-
ened w^ood in her hand — her arm was raif 1 — the
Jesuit cast an imploring look upon her, but the
heart of the girl was steeled to pity ; her savage

., r: f

THE RETURN.

103

nature was unyielding, and she struck him a
heavy blow. He staggered forward, about to
fall ; at the next moment he was raised and
hurried forward bv the arm of one of his Huron
nco|)liytt»s. Jilinded and stunned by the shower
of bK)ws which fell u})on him, he still pressed
forward, awaiting every moment the final stroke,
which wouhl close his sufferings, when suddenly
it seemed to him tiiat a ?icw vii;or was infused
into his limbs, that he walked erect and unfalter-
ingly among his raging persecutors, while amid a
radiance enclosing him as within a veil of glory,
broke uj)on his astonished eyes a vision of celes-
tial beauty whose pitying eye, and glowing heart
and outstretched helping hands, consoled, encour-
aged, guided and protected him. At length he
knelt safe from further harm at the war-post, and
ere he arose from his prayer of gratitude, the beau-
teous vision had faded from his eyes — though its
impress never left his heart. A wild spectacle
met his eye as he gazed over the field through
which he had just passed. The tall Huron, Le
Loup, heedless of blows and wounds, was still
struggling through the savage throng, carrying

-M-. ->.»« j iMll>' . —>>«<i6a«imJ.-.

104

TnE RETURy.

the main body of the whippers after him and
around him. Ever as he turned and doubled, a
portion of liis tormentors would start before him
to cut off his escape ; then, like the hunted wolf,
he would burst upon them with all his strength,
and break through them — only to find another
body ready to receive him. A group of old
squaws, armed like fiends with the worst weapons
they could obtain, pointed and jagged stones,
sharpened sticks and knives, attempted to stop
his course. He dashed into the midst of them,
striking the first to the earth before she could aim
a blow ; yelling horribly as she fell, she clasped
the warrior's feet and tripped him up. With his
outstretched arms he grasped several of his perse-
cutors, and tlicy came to the ground together:
his pursuers, close at his heels, fell over them,
and the living pile struggled together in inextri-
cable confusion, striking and beating each other
indiseriminatelv. A shout of laughter broke
from the Mohawk warriors, who watched the
scene with interest. Winding out from the living
mass that was piled up above him, the Huron
sprang again to his feet and started off, delivered

THE RETURN.

105

from more than half his pursuers, who still lay
struggling together^— the upper ones believing
that their victim was still in their power, while
the efforts made by those underneath to arise
made the confusion still more dire. The Huron
was speeding on.

Half-way to the post tottered on the poor
novice, Rene Bourdoise, his young limbs stiff
and fainting. Ah ! little did he think, when he
quitted the shores of beautiful and gentle France,
of the wild scenes of suffering and torture he was
to endure for the sake of Christ in the dreary
wilderness of the west. The companions of his
earlv days were wanderinj; through the brijj^ht
valleys of his native land ; songp of joy were
upon their lips, glad music ringing in their enrs,
loving hearts and tender hands around them. In
his ear rang the yell of the wild Mohawk, and
the hand of the pitiless savage was upon him.
Then he called to mind his solemn vocation, and
devoting himself to suffering, clasped his hands
towards heaven, and struggled on.

" Grant me strength to bear my cross, O God I "
he said.

mmm

iimt'm' ^ fm K '! 9

106

THE RETURN.

The novice had already reached the stream:
he had received little else but passing blows, for
the strong Hiirons afforded better game to these
human hunters. The younger and the weaker,
who feared to grapple with the stout warriors,
alone pursued him. But now a party rushed
towards him, and in an instant the fainting youth
sunk beneath their blows. It was at the moment
that Le Loup approached the creek. His eye
rested upon the novice as he fell among his tor-
mentors, and he dashed through their midst draw-
ing them after him in the race. Rene Bourdoise
arose — the Indians were already in another por-
tion of the field, and he passed the stream, and,
painfully toiling up the hill, touched the war-
post. At length the chase began to flag, and Le
Loup, having succeeded in doubling on his pur-
suers, leaped up the hill to the goal. The last
Huron soon came in.

The overthrown squaws, bruised and beaten,
gathered round the group of captives, and with
loud imprecations menaced the cause of their
misfortunes with the vengeance of the tribe.

" Ah ! " said one, " wait, when the Huron is

THE RETURN,

107

bound to the post and the flames are kindled
around him, we will torture the dog till he
screams with pain."

" Yes, the Mohawk women will make the
Huron warrior yell with the torment," and the
fiends shouted in anticipation of the sacrifice.
Le Loup looked calmly on and smiled.

The prisonei-s were again bound, and, the cer-
emonies attendant upon the return of the war-
party having been gone through, were placed
under a guard in the council-lodge, while the
warriors dispersed through the village, each with
his band of friends and admirers. A portion of
the war-party belonged to another village ; these
were entertained with dances and feasting imtil
towards evening, when they took their departure
for their own homes, contrary to their usual cus-
tom, leaving the prisoners at the first village to
be disposed of by a joint council at some future
day.

.. I 1 1 i^^nmr^^^Tr^^^^'"''^7 nH

CHAPTER VIIL
BAPTIS3I IN BONDAGE.

HE forest to the north of the village was
filled with undergrowth, and was wild
and rocky, rising at times into hills of
considerable size, which swept gradually down
until they melted in the gentle ascent upon which
the ^lohawk village stood. Towards the close of
the day which had been signalized by the return
of the w^ar-party, a solitary Indian cautiously
made his way through the thick bushes, replacing
every leaf and branch in its i)osition, and cover-
ing each footstep as he passed. His course Avas
turned in the direction of the wildest of the hills.
As he proceeded, the ground became more broken
and rocky until a huge ledge rose abruptly in the
forest, jutting almost over the summits of the

oaks. At the foot of the cliff he paused for a

108

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE.

109

moment, and surveyed the face and summit of
the rock. He seemed satisfied, and moved along
the base of the ledge until he reached a part that
was less precipitous, and was covered with bushes
and creepers growing out of the many crevices
and spots of earth upon its sides. Here he
paused for a moment, and, having made a low
signal, which was answered from above, began to
ascend. A little distance from the summit, the
rock receded until it opened into something like
a cave, which was completely hidden from below
by the bushes and wild- vines in bloom, which
here clustered thick upon the side of the ascent.
At the farther end of the recess sat two figures,
silent and motionless ; their rifles * were lying
near them. The Indian entered and took his
seat by his companions; at length he spoke,
pointing with his hand over his shoulder towards
the village.

" The Hurons and the blackgown are in the

* This term has been used throughout this sto:y; per-
haps musket would have been more correct, though at the
date of the story few Indians were possessed of fire-arms at
all. The Mohawks obtained them at an earlier period,
tiaving been supplied by the Dutch traders.
10

f ' '— !■ W '

■^1 1 i ii p .i i .. , ■ I i i . » « ii

110

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE.

council-lodge. No more gauntlet; the warriors
from the other villages have gone," he said, and
held up the fingers of both hands twice to indi-
cate their number. "So many braves at the
village," and he again held up his fingers till
they indicated forty; "must wait." The Hurons
assented, and Ahasistari continued : " The black-
gown is weak and bruised ; many days must pass
before he can travel again to the river. The
Hurons must tarry till they can go as fast as the
Mohawk, or the foe will gatlier from the tribes
and follow on the trail."

At length one of the Hurons spoke: "Watook
may collect the braves, and be here in another

sun.

" Quickfoot," said Ahasistari, " it is better that
he should lie out with the warriors some distance
in the forest. There is a little stream a day's
journey from the village of the Mohawks; we
crossed it on the trail. I^et him hide upon its
banks. If he come nearer, a wandering MohaAvk
might strike upon his trail, and then all hope
will be lost. We cannot attempt a rescue until
the blackgowns are strong enough to journey

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE.

Ill

with us. Watook and his braves will follow the
trail of the Mohawks; Quickfoot must retrace it,
and meet him. He will bid him to remain until
Ahasistari commands again."

" Good," said the Huron, and, taking up his
rifle, wearied as he was, with the elastic tread of
the bravT, departed. The others sat still.

Ahasistari and his two followers had hovered
around the trail of the Mohawks, but as the foe
was very numerous — about fifty warriors in all —
had not obtained a single opportunity of attempt-
ing the rescue of the prisoners by artifice; of
course force was out of the question. It now
became necessary for the chief to delay his opera-
tions for the reasons which he gave his followers,
and also in the hope that the number of the war-
riors at the village might be reduced by some
new expedition, and thus aiford a favorable
opportunity of making an assault, with what-
ever braves Watook might bring up, to whom
he could at any time transmit his orders by his
remaining companion. In the meantime, too,
some chance of a successful stratagem might pre-
sent itself, and he determined to watch the vil-

•mr—mm^^rnmrmm

mmmmm

112

BAPTISM IN BOND AGE.

lage closely to secure if possible the escape of his
friends.

When the Mohawks had approached the end
of their journey, the Hurons forsook their trail,
and struck off through the forest to the hills,
among which they were now concealed, having
perceived them on their path from the summit of
a distant elevation. The track of a fox led them
up the ledge of rocks to the cave, and at the same
time gave them the assurance that it was alto-
gether unfrequented by their foes. Leaving his
companions, Ahasistari then crept stealthily to-
wards the village, and reached it in time to be a
witness from a neighboring thicket of all the
scenes which followed upon the arrival of the
war-party, and learned from a single glance the
condition of the captives. His plans were formed,
and he returned to the rocks to carry them out.
With twenty good braves he would not have
hesitated to attack the village, knowing the vast
advantage which darkness and surprise give to
even a few assailants over a larger number,
mingled with women and children, and unpre-
pared for battle. The village, too, was not de-

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE,

113

fended by any stockade or fortification, for such
was the terror of the Mohawk name that few of
their enemies dared to set foot upon their territory.
But Ahasistari deemed it more prudent to jxKst-
pono the attempt, judging, from the departure of
the braves of the neighboring village without
carrying with them a portion of the prisoners,
that for the present they were in no danger of
public execution. Such, however, he knew to
be tlfe passionate cruelty of the Iroquois that any
one of them might be sacrificed at a moment.
This danger could not be avoided.

The night that followed was a festive one in
the village of the Mohawks. Long continued
were the rejoicings of the people over the valor
of the braves, and it was determined in council
to dispatch runners to Fort Orange with a portion
of the booty, which had been large, to j^rocure
" fire-water " from the traders for a solemn fes-
tival over the victory. In the midst of all this
joy, many sleepless hours had passed over the
heads of the two Frenchmen. Sore, bruised,
suifering intense pain, unable to lie at ease, slum-
ber long delayed to shroud their weariness in
10* H

>i II ni« "!

S*SiS5

114

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE,

oblivion. At length it came. The Hurons,
after the prayers of the night had been said, soon
yielded to sleep, accustomed as they were to catch
repose in any attitude. Day broke gayly over
the village, and the rays of the bright sun stole
in through the chinks of the council-lodge, and
rested in golden streaks upon the hard-trodden
earthen floor. As the luminary rose higher in
the sky, a beam, playing through a narrow cre-
vice, crept slowly over the pale face of the ^oung
novice. His lips were drawn apart, a fixed ex-
pression of pain dwelt upon his features, and his
heavy and disturbed breathing denoted the fever
that raged in his veins. He slept on; the joyous
ray playing upon his sad features, myriads of
motes holding their gay revels in its beams.
Near him slumbered Father Laval. The Hu-
rons were stretched around upon the floor in
deep sleep. At the door of the lodge sat the
guard, his head resting upon his knee, and his
quick eye occasionally scanning the slumberers;
but for its motion he would have seemed as rapt
in sleep as they. Time passed on; the sounds
without told that the village was again all alive^

mmm

BAPTJSM IN BONDAGE.

115

and one by one the Hurons awoke from their
h)n^ rcj)0.se, and, stretching their cramped limha
as best they miglit, arose to a sitting posture.
A single glance of his eye was all the notice the
guai'il deigned to bestow upon their movements.
The two Frenchmen still s](!pt on. At length
Fiither Laval awoke. For a moment he gazed
around unable to realize his situation ; then turn-
ing himself, he endeavored to kneel; the eflbrt
M'as painful, but he succeeded. Ilene Bourdoise
now opened his eyes, but he was unable to move.
^' Do not seek to rise, my son,'' said the Jesuit,
" you are too weak ; the prayer of the heart is
acceptable to God, whether you kneel or not."'
Then Father Laval addressed the Hurons : ^* My
children, from the midst of our sufferings let us
cry out to heaven for mercy, not for the bodies
which are of earth and perishable, but for the
souls which are immortal, undying. Let us be-
seech our heavenly Father to accept our sufferings
here in atonement through the blood of his Son
for the sins of our past lives. Let us not repine*
We suffer — ^it is for the greater glory of God.'
He will draw good for us out of this evil. Let

116

BAPTISAf IN BONDAGE.

US pray ; let us join in spirit with our brethren
of the mission of St. Mary in the holy sacrifice
of the altar."

The Indians listened in silence, and the Jesuit
prayed aloud. Many moments passed thus in
holy prayer and meditation. Streams of heavenly
consolation seemed to pour down upon the priest
and his little flock. Rapt in holy abstraction,
their sufferings were all forgotten ; and, seated in
heart at the foot of the Saviour^s cross, their own
sorrows dwindled into nothingness in the con-
templation of his infinite passion. Then the stern
spirit of the Hurons melted, and the enduring
warrior became the contrite penitent.

" The anger of the Iroquois is unsparing, my
father. Death may be ours at any moment,"
said Le Loup, as the consoling prayer was ended.

"True, my son; let us prej^are to meet it;"
and the Indian, moving nearer to the priest, began
his confession. It was done ; and the Jesuit pro-
nounced the words of absolution in virtue of that
power committed by Christ to his church," Whose
sins ye shall forgive, they are forgiven."

** Go in peace ! " said the priest, and another

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE,

117

and another came. Often before had these Chris-
tian savages, in their nnsophisticated nature, made
pnblie confession of their faults, seeking to hum-
ble themselves before heaven and earth, and thus
to show the sincerity of their re])entanec and to
do penance by mortifying their pride and self-
love : now therefore they did not heed the presence
of their brethren. Two there were who were yet
unbaptized, two neophytes longing for the redeem-
ing waters of the purifying sacrament. In turn
they knelt and confessed themselves, and besought
baptism. Alas! the good priest, bound hand
and foot, without a drop of water, was unable to
administer the sacred rite.

Tlie pious occupation of the prisoners Avas at
length interrupted by the entrance of a warrior,
who was soon followed by another. It was not
long before a number had gathered in the lodge.
One of the Mohawks, at length, approached the
Jesuit, and loosed the cords that bound him ; then
he released the young novice. Father Laval sat
still for some moments, endeavoring to overcome
the stiffness of his limbs. Whilst he remained in
this position, an Indian entered the lodge, bearing

118

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE,

in his hand an ear of corn upon the stock, which
ho had just plucked ; he threw it to the Jesuit.
The sunliglit played upon it as it lay — and see !
upon its silken beard and broad blade clung little
drops of dew * — sparkling and glistening, like
jewels in the light! Ah ! far more precious at that
moment than all the diamonds of Golconda ! —
There was enough to baptize the two captive
Hurons. Taking it up carefully, he arose, zeal
and joy overcoming pain and weakness, and
knelt above the prostrate neophytes.

" O my children, the hand of the ever merciful
is with us. Kneel — kneel ! '' and in the wild forest
lodge, made holy as God's tem})le by the prayers
and sufferings of his faithful childreu, with the
Christian Huron and wild Mohawk looking on,
without sponsor, with no lights but God's own
Bunlight, with no incense but the ineffably sweet
incense of humble prayer, before the altar of the
heart, the jjriest admitted the rejoicing neophytes
into the fold of Christ, into the household of

* This incident is related of Fiithei* Isaac Jones, while a
captive among the Mohawks, by 13ancroft, almost in the
words used above. See Bancroft, vol. iii. p. 1S3.

{

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE.

119

faith, sprinkling the pure dew of heaven upon
tlieir uplifted brows. Wondrously solemn was
that simple baptism in the wilderness ; in the midst
of trials and sufferings, in the face of death. No
swelling organ arose over the saerament ; no swing-
ing bell pealed out; no white robe upon the neo-
phyte, but the stainless one of purity of heart ;
no vestment on the priest but the martyr's, stained
with blood.

" Come sorrow ; come death," exclaimed the
Jesuit; "I will heed them not, O God ! for of
thy mercy there is no end.''

Scarcely had he finished before an Indian sum-
moned him to follow him. Father Laval left the
lodge. A group of boys were gathered before the
door, and watched the priest with interest as he
passed through them, but did not molest him.
His conductor, crossing the open space around the
lodge, turned his steps towards a tent at the end
of the village near the forest. This rude dwelling
of the savage was constructed of poles sunk in the
ground, in a circle, with their tops bent to a com-
mon point and fastened together. Over this
frame was stretched a canopy of bufflilo skins,

120

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE.

stitched together with thread made of the tendons
of the deer. It was large and commodious, and
betokened the wealth and stand ini^: of its owner.
In front, the two ends of the covering hung apart,
leaving a space for entrance^ which was usually
closed up by a single buffalo robe suspended from
a cross piece above. This was, of course, raised
to admit light and air. The tent was of far bet-
ter order than the lodges around it, which were
rude huts covered with bark. The Indian mo-
tioned Father Laval to enter. Lyinc; on a couch
of skins, the Jesuit beheld the vounoc cliief Vv hose
wounds he had bound up on the lield of battle.
An old man sat near him; it was the fotlier of
Kiskepila, and the chief of the village. The priest
ap})roaclied the couch of the wounded man to
feel his pulse, but the old man waved him away
with a motion of his hand.

*' Pale-ffice ! " he said in the Huron tongue,
"you are the foe of the Mohawks, and yet you
sought to heal the wounds of Kiskepila."

'* I am the foe of no people," replied the JosP't,
meekly ; " my mission is to save, not to destroy."

^' Thou art the friend of the Huron?" said the
old man interrogatively.

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE,

121

"Dost thou see the sun?" said the priest.
" The God who created it made it to shine alike
upon the Huron and the ^Mohawk. Its beams
ripen the corn in the country of the Iroquois, and
in the lands bevond the great lakes. Will the
Mohawk veil his eyes to the sunlight because its
rays shine upon the Huron too ? " The Indian
was silent, and the Jesuit continued :

" The Great Spirit loves all his children, the
Mohawk and the Huron ; W'ill the wise and brave
Mohawk shut his ears to the words of the Great
Spirit because the Huron has already heard
tliein?"

" Pale-face, the Mohawk listens to the voice
of Owaneeyo ; he hears it in the forest, and in
the waters, and in the winds ! "

" The Great Spirit has taught us, sachem, to
love those who hate us — to love all men — to let
our hearts shine on all like the sun of heaven ! "

^^ Ilugh!^^ exclaimed the Mohawk, "does the

pale-face speak with a forked tongue? The

Iroquois strikes his enemy, and it is good! ^^ and

he laid his hand upon his heart.

Father Laval paused for a moment eie he
11

ii Wil. > Mi i ii ;iBBir»i i ii M b tT i

SS3B

wmmm

122

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE.

answered this appeal to the natural passions of
man as an argument against the truth of the
Christian doctrine, and then, pointing to the
wounded man, said : ^' Kiskepila souglit the life
of the pale-face — ".

" And tlie jjale-face saved tlie life of Kiskepila/'
interrupted the young brave in a tone of deep
feeling. " The words of the blackgown are true.
The wolf kills the deer, the bear the buffalo, the
hawk the dove, and the Mohawk his wounded
foe. It is only the pale-face — the blackgown —
that binds up the wounds of his enemy. His
heart is gentle as the summer breeze ! ^'

Silence ensued, for the Indian scarcely knew
how to receive and estimate the wonderful maij-
nanimity of Christianity. Nature taught him
to do good for good ; to return good for evil was
a new thought to him, yet it awoke a slumbering
chord of the heart; he began to feel the sublim-
ity of the precept, and was silent. At this point
of the conversation a squaw entered the lodge,
bearing several ears of young corn, and a quan-
tity of beans which had been roasted at a lire
without, and placed them on a mat upon the
floor.

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE.

123

n-
ire
ihe

"Eat!" said the chief/ Father Laval ap-
proached, and making the sign of the cross,
blessed the simple provisions which had been
offered to him, and then proceeded to satisfy his
famished appetite. Hitherto he had been fur-
nished with barely enough food to support his
strength, for it was a common mode of torture
among the Indians to make their prisoners pass
days and niglits together with barely enough
food to sustain life, and yet inflict an incredible
amount of suffering. Yet he ate moderately. A
gourd of water was placed beside him — he had
not slaked his thirst for many hours —it was
grateful to his burning lips. Having returned
thanks to God, he arose and approached the
couch. The chief again spoke: "The pale-face
made a sign upon his forehead ?"

" It was the sign of the cross," replied the
Jesuit.

The chief nodded his head aiBrmatively. "I
thank the Great Spirit for his gifts.'^

Then the Jesuit began to examine the wounds
of Kiskepila, and to bind them anew, all the
while explaining the meaning of the holy sym-

124

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE.

bol which he had used ; how God had sent his
Son on earth after the sin of our first parents,
and how his chosen people had scourged and put
him to death upon the cross, and how, ever since
then, his followers had used that sign to recall to
their minds the recollection of his agony and
death.

"Ugh! Dogs!" exclaimed Kiskepila, as he
shook his clenched fist. The old chief listened
with a look of incredulity.

While the priest was speaking, a figure glided
softly in at the opening of the tent, and crouched
silently in an obscure corner with the females of
the family. Morning Flower listened : she could
understand but little, for he spoke in the Huron
dialect. In astonishment, she gazed upon him
as he tenderly bound up the wounds of her
lover. The passion of the previous evening had
subsided, and she remembered with a sorrowing
henrt that she had tortured him in the gauntlet.
z-r,.,,g ^yjjg jj^ gentle spirit in spite of its wild edu-
fvivioi:. She arose, aj^proached the priest, and
lo' ked him in the fiice ; at the same moment the
joung warrior, pointing to the Jesuit, said :

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE.

125

" Morning Flower, the blackrobe saved the
life of Kiskepila when the Young Eagle had
slain his people — the Hurons/'

Then the heart of the woman was true, and,
in spite of early habits and barbarous training,
beat tliere as nature made it. A gush of remorse
filled her soul, and with a low wild cry she broke
away from the tent. The two Mohawks looked
at each other in astonishment, unable to compre-
hend the cause of so singular an exhibition of
feeling; and the elder exclaimed in lo^v tone,
" Hugh ! Medicine ! '' and sliook his heau, at-
tributing the action of the girl to some species
of enchantment on the part of the priest. But
Fatlicr Laval well understood it: he recognized
the maiden who had so relentlessly pursued him
whilst running the gauntlet : yet he continued
the conversation, without heeding the circum-
stance further.

At length the Jesuit returned to the council-
lodge, where he busied himself in ministering to
the wounded Hurons. Kene Bourdoise, released
from the tight bonds which had been so painful,
began to recover a little from the weakness that
.11*

mim

126

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE.

had rendered him helpless. With a tottering
step he descended to the stream, and washed the
blood from his face and han<ls, and laved his
swollen feci. The cool water refreshed and
strengthened him, calming the fever of his veins.
He found a gourd upon the bank, and fdling it,
bore it to the famished prisoners at the lodge.
The Jesuit assisted the novice, unheeded by the
Mohawks, who listlessly reclined on the grass,
occasionally casting a glance upon the prisoners,
to see that no attempt was made to loosen their
bonds.

Towards evening the Jesuit again entered the
tent of Kiodego. Kiskepila was resting in a
half recumbent position, suj)ported by a pile of
furs that a king might have envied. Many days
had passed since his wounds had been received,
for the march was long and tedious, and he was
now recruitino; his strength. Father Laval again
felt his pulse, for he feared lest the fatigue of a
long journey, upon a rough litter, might bring on
a fever which would prove fatal; but a skilful
preparation of draughts from herbs and roots
had prevented it : the stroke was still calm and

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE.

127

regular. Thou he entered into conversation with
the young brave, using, as mu(;li as possible, the
Moliawk tongue, earnestly seeking to become
familiar with it for "the greater glory of God."
In the tedious and painful route he had caught a
knowledge of it from his captors, and its affinity
with the Huron tongue, which he spoke with
ease and fluency, enabled him to make rapid
progress. The young warrior listened to him
patiently, but as soon as he paused, addressed
him :

" Blackgown, you have taught me that the
pale-face loves all, and forgives those who have
injured him. Morning Flower," — and the
young maiden, springing up from a group of
females in the farther part of the tent, ap-
proached and stood beside the priest, — " Morn-
ing Flower, when the blood of Kiskepila was
flowing from his veins, and his heart was grow-
ing cold, the hand of the pale-face stopped its
flow. Blackgown, Morning Flower is the des-
tined bride of Kiskepila."

The priest placed his hands upon the head of
the young girl, and then, raising them up to

128

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE.

heaven, uttered a prayer for the wild but gentle
spirit before him. " O God, grant that the light
of thy faith may pierce the heart of this untutored
girl, and of all here. Mary, mother of the sor-
rowful, bring these wanderers to the faith of thy
Son by the powerful intercession of thy pray-
ers.'' And he added, in the Mohawk tongue,
" Daughter, peace be with thee."

Then Father Laval began to discourse again
upon the subject of his morning's conversation,
speaking in the Mohawk dialect as well as he
could. Kiskepila listened attentively, and the
maiden, seated at her lover's feet, gathered every
word that fell from the lips of the priest.

When the Jesuit had departed, the young
warrior conversed with Morning Flower upon
the discourse which they had heard, explaining
such portions as had been uttered in the Huron
dialect, and wondering over that which was
mysterious and difficult, for it is hard to express
abstract ideas in the Indian language. The
kindness and attention of the missionary had
won the heart of the young Iroquois, and, find-
ing that he acted out in his own life what he

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE.

129

taught to others, under the impulse of a grateful
feeling, he lent a willing ear to his words. Kis-
kepila had a clear head, and the very fact that
the Jesuit faced so many dangers, and endured
so much toil and suffering, to preach the doc-
trines of his religion, satisfied him at once of the
uprightness and sincerity of his motives. The
skill and knowledge of the Frenchman proved
to him that he was no ordinary man, and he in-
clined to believe even the wonderful tidings he
announced. Yet doubts met him at every point
as he thought over the strange things he had
been told. When, therefore, the Jesuit entered
the tent on the following day, he questioned him :

" Blackgown, you tell me that the Saviour
died and was buried, and that on the third day
he arose again from the dead. I have never
seen the dead arise — how can I believe it?"

" My son, it would have been no proof of his
divinity if rising from the dead had been an ordi-
nary occurrence. But he is God. He it was
who made the law that all men should die, and
that law he could suspend or alter. As man he
died ; as God-man he arose. The people of thy

130

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE,

tribe believe that the spirits of the departed do
not die ; can not the God who preserves the spirit
preserve also the body, and give it back to life?
Can he not at a word bid the tomb to open, and
the lifeless corpse to live and breathe again ? Ah,
my son ! there are no laws to bind the Omnipo-
tent God bnt the laws of his own mercy and
jnstice and eternal providence. He has been
pleased to listen to the prayer of his hnmble
followers upon this earth, and has for them
wrought miracles almost equally wonderful.
The Blessed Xavier, on the shore of the far east,
knelt and prayed, and the ear of the Almighty
was inclined towards him, and when the holy
priest stretched forth his hand, and called upon
the dead to come forth from his silent grave, the
lifeless sprung up into strength and health and
beauty."

A deep exclamation of surprise broke from the
lips of the attentive Indian, Avhilst the women of
the family gathered nearer to hear the words of
the animated speaker. Warmed with a holy
zeal, the Jesuit continued in a clear firm
voice:

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE^

131

"The resurrection of the Saviour from the
dead was to be the final seal of salvation ; it was
to open the way for us from the tomb to heaven ! "

Then Father Laval went on to tell how, ages
before his coming, the mode of his birth, his suf-
fering, the miracles which he was to perform, his
passion and liis death had been foretold, and how
exactly they had been accomplished ; and he
summed up all the evidences of Christianity,
while the young warrior listened attentively,
often bowing his head in token of assent.

" Yes, it niust be true," he said at length, after
the Jesuit had concluded : " Kiskepila must
believe."

Thus Father Laval sought every opportunity
to impress upon the mind of the young warrior
the truths of Christianity, and the relation which
existed between them made the young Iroquois
listen with a docility unexampled among that
fierce race. Whatever the young man learned
he was sure to communicate to Morning Flower,
who soon began to seek occasions of conversing
with the priest, and listened with admiration to
his accounts of the splendor of the cities of France,

■■■IHtB

mmn

132

BAPTISM IN BOND AG K

and the numbel* of their inhabitants, things like
the wonders of fairy tales to her unsophisticated
imagination. With these accounts the priest
always mingled descriptions of the splendid
churches and of the gorgeous ceremonial, of the
sacred rites performed within them, to the honor
and glory of God, and explained them to the
maiden as well as he could in his imperfect knowl-
edge of the language. Then, leaving these sub-
jects, he would converse upon the moral relations
of Christian society, instruct her in the duties of
woman, and teach her the obligations of religion,
the sanctity of marriage, and the beauty and
holiness of purity of heart and body. Morning
Flower drank in his words, and kept them in her
heart. But this was the work of days. In the
meanwhile the village was filled with various
accounts of the conversations which the priest had
held in the tent of Kiodego — how he had spoken
of wonderful and mysterious things, and how he
had said that the fathers of the blackgown, in
times not long gone by, had called the dead from
their tombs. These reports, increased and dis-
torted as they passed from mouth to mouth, cast

BAPTISM IN BONDAGE.

133

a species of awe around the priest in the eyes of
many. He began to be looked upon as a magi-
cian or medicine more powerful than their own.
Yet, unconscious of all this, the humble Jesuit
pursued his labors with increasing assiduity.

I I u m^^^^mm^mmmmm'f^

CHAPTER IX,

THE COUNCIL.

VERY night Father Laval and the nov-
ice had been bound and confined with
the other prisoners in the lodge. In the
meanwhile Rene Bourdoise began to gain strength,
for Morning Flower, compassionating his suffer-
ings, extended her kindness towards him, and
supplied him, as well as Father Laval, with food,
in addition to that distributed by their captors.
A little gentle exercise, and hours of rest, assisted
nature wonderfully in her recuperative efforts:
but although the two Frenchmen recruited each
day in health, they were still subject to all the
petulant cruelty of the Iroquois. Still it was
only that common torture which every captive

was made to endure, and though great in itself,

134

THE COUNCIL.

135

dwindled away into littleness when met by their
boundless patience and tranquillity of heart.

A Aveek had passed, but there seemed to be no
disposition on the part of the Mohawk warriors
to leave their village even upon a hunting ex-
pedition. It was the corn moon, and plenty sur-
rounded them — and the Indian is always satis-
fied if the present moment be provided for.
They were awaiting the return of the runners
with the fire-water from Fort Orange. Towards
the evening of the sixth day these messengers
came back unexpectedly to the village, having
met a Dutch trader some days' journey from the
village, and purchased from him the necessary
supply. It was now determined by the braves
that a council should be held on the following
day to decide upon the fate of the prisoners ; and
a portion of the fire-water was set aside for the
carousings which would follow upon such a pro-
ceeding. A runner was therefore at once dis-
patched to the village which had joined in the
war-party, inviting the presence of a deputation
to assist at the council.

Father Laval, who had already retired to the

iy:;„ta,". w "aa

maa

mmmm

136

THE COUNCIL.

council-lodge, watched these proceedings with a
troubled eye ; he saw bustle and preparation, but
was unable to conceive its object. Le Loup sat
coldly watching the movements of the Iroquois,
knowing too well what was likely to ensue. The
Jesuit at length turned an inquiring eye upon
him, and questioned him :

" What is the cause of all this commotion, my
son?"

^^ Fire-water ! " said Le Loup, senteutiously,
" The runners have come back from the traders,
and the Mohawk will be crazy to-niglit — he
will kill if he can."

"If he can? — alas! there is nothing to pre-
vent him ; then, my children, we must look upon
death as immediately before us, and bo ready to
meet him like Christian niv^ii!"

" Good ! " said Le Loup emphatically ; " but
they will not all drink — they will cast lots, who
shall be guard — may kill, though. It is good to
be ready ! "

At length the coun jil-lodge was closed up and
fastened firmly, while it was evident to the pris-
oners that a double guard was placed over them,

THE COUNCIL.

to protect them from any attempts which might
be made against them by the intoxicated Indians
in the fury of their orgies. The noise without
began to increase, and soon became uproarious.
The greater portion of the intoxicating liquid
had been carefully concealed in order that it
might be preserved for the second festival, in
pursuance of the plan adopted. The intoxica-
tion therefore, of the braves, scarcely reached
to that point of frenzy when the whole passion
of the savage is aroused and nothing but blood
will satisfy him. Yet now and then an Indian,
more excited than the rest, would approach the
lodge with reeling step, but flashing eye, and
endeavor to force his way to the prisoners ; but
the strong guard, at the entrance, always baffled
their attempts, and drove off the assailants with
good-humored blows and laugbter. As the arms
of the drinkers had been taken from them, little
danger was to be apprehended, unless they should
succeed in obtaining them again. Night came
on, and by the light of the fires the revellers
carried on their orgies. The blaze falling on

the front of the council-lodge, cast the rear and the
12*

138

THE COUNCIL.

tents behind it into a dark shadow. Most of the
inhabitants had gathered in the open space, and
were orcTjpV in observing the mad antics of the
drunken Indians, At length, while the carousing
was at its height, a figure slowly emerged from
the edge of the ^orest, and keeping in the darkest
shadows, odtrit ohcd upon the ground, coiled
along slowly anu .^a itfously towards the lodge.
There it roll <! \ip c. beside the lower logs of
the rude building, aiiii \ .a to a searching eye
was almost indistinguishable from them. Thus it
lay for some time motionless. Le Loup had just
stretched himself upon the hard floor, when he
heard a low sound like the ticking of an insect in
the log near his head. It persevered in a singular
manner, and he answered it with, a like sound.

" Huron I " said a voice very low, but perfectly
distinct — reaching no other ear but that of the
prostrate warrior.

" Le Loup I " replied the other, giving his
name.

"Good!" said the other voice, which the
Huron recognized as that of Ahasistari.

"Council to-night?" asked the chief after a
pause.

THE COUNCIL.

139

" No ; to-morrow ! " said Lc Loup.

" Is the blackgown strong enough to travel to
the river?"

" Yes ! but the Mohawk is quick and watchful."

" Can the Huron escape from the lodge with
the help of Ahasistari ? "

'^ There is an opening above, but all are bound
hand and foot."

"The knife of Ahasistari will sever the cord"
— a silence ensued, during which the cliief was
busily occupied in removing a block, which filled
up the space between two of the logs — " let Le
Loup lay close, so that the knife may cut his
cord," said Ahasistari, as the block began to
yield to his efforts. At this moment two braves
of the guard, fearful that some of the carousers
might endeavor to do mischief through an open-
ing in the rear, passed around the lodge to exam-
ine it. They conversed as they went along, and
the engrossing topic of the village expectation
filled their minds.

" The pale-face is a great medicine," said one ;
" the braves of the tribe will not spare him in
the council — for he will blight the coming har-
vest, and cast a spell on the hunting-grounds."

140

TUE COUNCIL.

"The big Huron will be tortured," said the
other.

" Yes I no one will adopt them, and they must
be tortured, the dogs ! "

"The council will decide to-morrow — Kiohba
wishes all to be tortured. None know the wishes
of Kiodego, and the war-chief is silent."

The two Mohawks now stood for a moment
almost touching Ahasistari, who lay close to the
side of the lodge, motionless as the wood itself.
From their conversation the chief gathered that
the council was looked to with great anxiety, as
there was a diversity of opinion with regard to
the fate of the Jesuit. At this moment a wild
yell interrupted the two Mohawks, and drew
them away. The carousers having exhausted
the liquor set out for them, searched for the re-
mainder, and having found it, overpowered the
guard and bore it off. The Pluron chief renewed
his efforts with more hardihood, when he was
again interrupted. The Indians in charge of the
lodge had left it unprotected, and hastened to the
assistance of their companions. Several of the
half intoxicated Mohawks discovered this, and

THE COUNCIL.

141

=is,r sir -"" ^--^™" "".

rented a scon JrvofTr""' *'''' «"•- P-

of the fires, :n;trstST„7^^^^^

brands, flashed fitf„L !',„ "f *°««f "P the
>ng wretches, shriekiL ^".^ "■"'"''' "^ '•'^el-
briety. Here Jr ^ " ^^^ ""'d"^*^ of ine-

There parties o/fhl Zlt f t '^^-^^'••''-
gled in harmless i.^^^Z [^ *r^'*™^-
grave and solemn Indfan 1^ themselves. The
into a wallowing brute ' """^ ^'•^"^fi'rmed

f ots, gazin, Sit^i^risrvi:'^ ?r ^"^

fires, whose glare plave^ ?i i, ^ '"*" the

crouching fii-£twforr'^''
on towards the lod^e th/f T **"' ^arae

They had reached tf!' "" '''"' *'" "»'der.

there; thefasteSg tr^'SS "! T'^ --

--Two heat;; ^l:--S- With

142

THE COUNCIL.

brought the foremost of the rioters to the ground ;
the rest fell over them shouting madly. The
figure drew back behind the corner of the lodge,
for the cries of the party had attracted the guard,
who ran in strength to the spot, and having re-
lieved the prisoners from danger, which was im-
minent, remained doubly watchful at their posi-
tion. In a moment more Ahasistari gained the
edge of the forest and stood awaiting the result.
All hope of escape for that night was cut off.
Some of the guards took their position within
the lodge, while others destroyed the rum that
still remained, as the only means of quieting the
tumult; and one by one the revellers fell off into
the deep sleep of intoxication.

Ahasistari returned to his hiding-place among
the rocks, satisfied that no further harm would
befall the prisoners until the council should de-
cide upon their fate. Of the doom of Father La-
val and Le Loup he felt little doubt, and he could
delay no longer in the attempt at rescue, but
must at length cast all his hope upon the hazard of
the die. He must win all or lose all. As Quick-
foot did not return, he concluded that he must

THE COUNCIL,

143

have fallen in with Watook, and that they
awaited his commands at the appointed sjiot. It
was now necessary to dispatch the remaining
Hnron instantly to bring up these warriors, and,
it would even then occupy them until the evening
of the next day to reach the rocky hiding-place
of their chief. The Huron set out, and Ahasis-
tari waS left alone. He knelt and prayed.

Father Laval remained some time absorbed in
prayer after all the sounds without had died
away. Of a strong and enduring frame, and
used to hardships, he had already recovered from
the effects of the long and painful march through
the forest, while the novice, though much im-
proved, still suffered severely from his labors.
The Hurons, all along, aware that their chief
was hovering about them, knew that any attempt
at rescue was of too doubtful result for them to
rest a hope upon, and prepared themselves still
more, every hour, for that final and fatal trial
which impended over them. At length they
gave themselves up to slumber with cheerful
hearts, trusting in the goodness and mercy of
God.

mmmmum

THE COUNCIL.

With morning began the prej^arations for the
council. The sullen countenances of those who
had shared over night in the debauch, boded ill
for the prisoners. Many a scowling and savage
look was cast upon them. A little after noon
came the deputation from the neighboring vil-
lage : it was small, composed of but two or three
braves, the greater portion of the successful war-
riors having gone out with their share of the
plunder towards Fort Orange to exchange it for
powder, lead, rum, and other articles of traffic.
The deputies were received with much pomp and
ceremony, and regaled with the best fare that the
village contained. They were then conducted
to the council-lodge, where the proceedings were
opened with great state and solemnity. The
elder and most distinguished braves formed
themselves in a circle in the centre of the lodge ;
beyond them sat the less notable of the tribe.
Each one, as he entered, took his seat in order ;
profound silence reigned throughout the assem-
blage. At length the old chief arrived — the
calumet was passed around — and, at a sign from
Kiodego, as a mark of honor, the brave who had

^SE COUNCIL

145

^ he proceeded, and hLliV^'''V°''' '"''""' "'"

fastened around his 't , ?l" '"^'"^ ^'•-'^
t'»-gl'; a co]Jar,of L Tl ""'I ^"^ ''^'"^^ ''i,s
''-garo„ndhi;:ek;i;^*''''-'''»>o-,

a"", and the feathersCf T' '''" '"°'"'"'''^'' '"«
his head. His Z r''*^ ""^'''^ «<'<"•"«!

Streaks of bl e ^S j! ''"r '^ P^'"'^'^-
ears towards his l,, , TT ''f"^"' ^'•«"' '"«
vermilion extended ^ T ''' " ''™*'' ''^nd of
h- eyes. As "ft rT " '""'"'' ^^ --
prisoners, and at Jetth « " IT"'' *°"^"'^ '''«
. "Why has he ZtZifl ''f ''"•"'•
the bones of his fathl . "' ^'*"''' ^^om

to the hunting;;ol'j 'ofT "!f «'"''^' ^™"'''
people have seufed doJn 2 '"'"' ^'^

the north, and ]o - thIT °"^ "''' '^''•'then, in
They ha; 'uied tfe r""'^^'''''"— "
them forsake the Grea ^T "? ''°^' "'-de
pale-face i„ battle "IS;-"' ^"" "'''' '''^
''oJorl The blaekrofe ha m.H """ ^'■'''' "^"^
and warriors ^veen ^ThX ''' ' ^' 'P'^^^>

j3 ''^•'''"'Hironsarehisslaves.

mmmmmm.

mmmmmmmmm

146

THE COUNCIL.

he is a great medicine. What shall be the fate
of the pale-face ? "

The chief sat down, and a silence of a few
minutes' duration ensued. It was broken at
length by a warrior, who said :

" Let him die ! Kiohba's voice is that the
pale-face die at the stake. His enchantments
have destroyed the Hurons, have driven away
the buffalo and bounding deer. His people have
swept down the beautiful forests on the great
river. Kiohba has seen him make that sign
upon his forehead, which our white brothers of
Fort Orange tell us is a folly and a wickedness
— a sorcery. If the chiefs spare the 2)ale-face,
he w^ill soften the hearts of the Iroquois and
weaken their arms in battle, and they will fall
before his people, and become slaves, like the
Hurons. The pale-face must die ! "

Several of the warriors nodded their heads in
silent approval of the speech of the brave.

"Let us keep the great medicine," said one
who had not been of the war-party, but who had
listened with wonder to the reported conversa-
tions of the priest. "Let us keep him in the

mmmmim

TUB COUNCIL.

147

tribe. Let us make him our brother, and give
him the first ripe corn and the fattest of the deer !
Let us build him a lodge, and his heart will love
the Mohawk people, he will strengthen their
arms and protect their villages ! "

A smile of scorn played upon the lips of Ki-
ohba, as he replied: "My brother is a cunning
counsellor; he is wise and brave at the cx)uncil-
fire ! Does he need a great medicine to strengthen
his courage? Kiohba fears not the medicine.
He has met the Huron and the French in battle.
The pale-face must. die ! ''

Other warriors now arose, some espousing one
side and some the other. The dispute grew
warm, when Kiodego interposed :

" My brothers ! " he said, " it has been de-
manded, why the blackrobe came into our land,
and why he goes far into the wilderness with
the Hurons, scattering his spells upon his path.
Let the pale-face answer ! Unbind him, and lead
him forward." A young warrior hastened to re-
lease the Jesuit, and assisted him into the circle.

" Speak, Tulhasaga ! " * said the old chief

* t(

Morning-light inhabitants."

148

TUB COUNCIL.

coldly, as if he had as yet heard nothing from
the priest concerning the object of his mission.
" Speak ! Why comest thou to our land ?
What dost thou seek?''

Father Laval bowed his head for a moment in
prayer, and then replied :

" Chief, I seek souls ; I came to do the work
of my Master ; I came to preach another faith
in this land, to teach and instruct the ignorant.
My mission is one of peace ; it is with the souls
of men, and not their bodies. I would teach
them to calm their passions, to cast out the spirit
of evil from their hearts ; to walk in the path
of justice and of virtue. I came over the stormy
waters to bear the tidings of the Gospel to the
heathen, and to plant the holy cross in the wil-
derness. You ask, with what object I was going
far into the west. I was about to seek new con-
verts to the cross. But, chief," — and the voice
of the missionary swelled out into its fullest and
most musical tones, entrancing the ear of the
savage. His form was lifted up, and his hands
outstretched before him. " But, chief, the Great
Spirit, in his wisdom; has willed it otherwise.

■ *» _ < mt ^< m^ -m m i mmt my*v*'

THE COUNCIL.

149

From my path to the Huron country he has
turned my steps towards the Mohawk villages —
and here, O chief, in captivity., submissive to the
will of my divine Master, I preach Christ to the
Iroquois; I preach Christ crucified; listen to
me ! " Deep exclamations broke from the aston-
ished council, but they awaited in patience.
"You are in darkness, I bring you light! re-
ceive it!" And he told them how God had
created the w^orld, and man the lord of all ; of
the fall ; of the redemption ; of the new Gospel ;
of the commission to his apostles and their suc-
cessors, to go forth and " teach all nations, bap-
tizing them in the name of the Father, and of
the Son, and of the Holy Ghost;" how that
commission had been sealed by miracles; how
the blind saw, the lame walked, and the dead
were raised to life again. And then he painted
before their eyes, in glowing colors, the joys of
heaven which were reserved for those who should
believe in Him, and love and serve Him, and the
fearful torments which the all-just God destined
for those who should reject and disobey His

commands. A gleam of wild joy broke from the
13*

150

THE COUNCIL,

eyes of the Hiirons, as they looked upon the
astonished Mohawks, while the Jesuit continued :
" This is the religion which I preach ; these are
the glad tidings which I bring you ; and it is to
announce this Gospel to the children of the wil-
derness that I have come from the land of the
east. The Great Spirit speaks it to you by my
mouth ; listen, and believe ! "

Father Laval concluded, and silence reigned
for a time throughout the lodge. At length
Kiodego addressed him :

" My brother has spoken well, he is wise ! But
be tells a strange tale, how shall we believe him?''

" He speaks with a forked tongue,'' said Ki-
ohba ; " he is a liar ! "

"We are satisfied with our own God," ex-
claimed another — ^* the war-god — Wacondah.
The God of the great medicine has made cow-
ards of the Hurons ; the God of the Mohawks
strengthens the arms of his children in battle.
The Mohawks want not the God of the pale-
face." And then the clamor for his death be-
came louder, while the advocates, not of mercy,
but of delay for expediency, were silenced. The

THE COUNCIL,

151

fate of the good priest seemed already sealed.
Without further delay, a -Mohawk approaehed
him, and, at a signal from the chief, compelled
him to kneel, and began to paint his head and
face. Then a shout of joy broke from the crowd
without; for it was the mark of death upon the
victim, and they revelled already in antici])ation
of the torture. At that moment a slight move-
ment was made in the crowd around the door; it
swayed forward and backward, and then gave
way, leaving j.n opening into the centre of the
circle. Leaning upon a warrior, Kiskepila,
weak and tottering, with his bandages still upon
his wounds, pressed forward through the passage.
The eye of the young chief fell upon the group
in the centre. An exclamation burst from his
lips. With the mighty energy of a strong spirit
he rose from the arm that supported his weak
form and strode alone into the circle. With one
hand he cast aside the Mohawk; the other he
rested upon the brow of the priest. A death-like
stillness reigned upon the scene ; not a hand was
raised to arrest his course ; not a voice was up-
lifted against him. Surprise held all men silent,

152

THE COUNCIL,

while the flashing eye of the young warrior
turned from face to face. " Kiskepila is a chief,"
said the young eagle of his tribe, " who will
oppose him? The Hurons have fled before the,
arm of Kiskepila! Shall he have no voice in
the councils of the tribe?" And he placed the
other hand above the head of the kneeling priest.
"Shall he be silent when the boaster is heard?"
and he pointed to Kiohba. " Kiskepila asks
the chiefs and braves to spare the pale-face." He
looked around for a reply — there was none. At
length Kiohba said coldly :

"Tlie chiefs and braves have spoken ; the pale-
face must die. See ! the death-paint is upon his
brow."

With a look of scorn the young man turned
away from the speaker and glanced once more
around the circle. The features of the stern
Mohawks were unmoved; they were silent.
Kiohba was triumphing.

"My brothers !" said Kiskepila, his eye light-
ing up again with indignation, "my brothers,
Kiskepila was wounded and fainting, and dying
upon the field of battle ; and the pale-face bathed

THE COUNCIL,

153

his lips and bound his wounds. Kiskepila owes
a life to the pale-face, and he will repay it. Let
Kiohba show the mark of a Huron on his breast,
or the scalp of a foe at his girdle."

The Indian replied not. The eyes of the old
men turned upon the Jesuit, and, with an excla-
mation of wonder, they looked to the chief of
the war-party, for confirmation of a story to them
so strange.

"The words of the young eagle are true," he
said ; " the pale-face bound up the wounds of
Kiskepila; he saved his life. The blackrobc was
a dove upon the field of battle — a dove among
the eagles."

Silence again ensued. The Jesuit, wrapped in
prayer, scarce heeded the scene around him ; but
ever and anon the bright eye of Le Loup would
gleam upon him, as, with head bent forward, the
Pluron listened, with interest, to the words of the
young Mohawk chief.

" The council have spoken ! " said Kiohba
again, fearful that a change might take place in
the opinions of the warriors, some of whom
seemed to lean towards the young chief; "the

154

TUB COUNCIL.

council Iiave spoken; the pale-face must die. It
is right; for the spells of the blackrobe are upon
the heart of Kiskepila; he has made a Huron of
the Mohawk."

"You lie, dog!" exclaimed the young chief,
fiercely.

" The tongue of Kiohba is not forked," said
the other, coldly, feeling the advantage which he
was gaining, through the generous impetuosity
of his opponent. " Let the chiefs look : Kiske-
pila could not walk alone to the council-lodge ;
and see ! he stands, as if he had no wounds upon
him ; it is the spell of the pale-face medicine.
The blackrobe must die, or the warriors will
become women ! " ^

The old men shook their heads, as they looked
upon the upright and noble figure of the young
brave, while the bandages were still fresh, as it
were, upon deep and dangerous wounds. It was
the energy of the spirit, not of the flesh, that
sustained the chief. The eyes of Kiohba gleamed
with joy, as he saw the impression he had made.
The young man again spoke, but in a lower and
sterner tone :

THE COUNCIL,

155

"Kiskepila owes the pale- face a life; lie shall
not die ! Kiskcpila will adopt him as his brother,
in place of him who is dead. He demands the
pale-face for his brother ! "

Kiohba smiled grimly, as he replied, pointing
to the old chief: " The father may demand the
prisoner, to adopt him as his son. Let the chief
speak; will he take to his lodge the sorcerer,
who has changed the heart of the young eagle
who was once the truest of the Mohawks ? "

Absorbed in anxious expectation, the young
brave heeded not the taunt. The old man was
yilent for a moment, then raising his head, re-
plied firmly :

"Kiskepila was a Avarrior, a Mohawk. He
has taken a Huron heart. The pale-face has
told him strange tales, and he has heard. The
blackgown is a sorcerer. The father of Kiske-
pila will not claim him; let him die!" The
head of the young chief sunk upon his breast,
and he was silent.

" Pie must die ! " re-echoed Kiohba, and,
tauntingly, continued: "He tells you that his
God raised the dead to life; why does he not

wmm

156

TUB COUNCIL.

call up the great Champlain from the tomb to
protect his people ? Let us see whether his God
will save the pale-face, when the flames shall
glow and curl around his white limbs ! "

"You demand of me a miracle!" Father
Laval replied gently ; " you call on my God to
raise the dead. He has done so; he can do it
again. He has opened the silent tomb, and bid
the dead arise and come forth, glowing with life,
and health, and energy ; and he has done this at
the prayer of his holy servants. I am but his
humble follower. What right have you to
demand from the God who made you, a sign
and a miracle in testimony ? Yours is not the
prayer of the willing; it is the scoff of the
hater."

The indignant voice of the Jesuit ceased.
After a pause of some moments an Indian ap-
proached, and finished painting his head and
face. It was the sign of final condemnation,
and was received with exultation by many ; yet
there were not a few who began to entertain an
increased dread of what they imagined to be his
power. But the feeling of the council waa

THE COUNCIL,

157

excited, filthoiigh that assemblage still retained
its calm and grave aspect ; and, with but little
delay, the novice and the Hurons were also con-
demned to the torture. Father Laval, Le Loup
and two other Hurons were to suffer on the mor-
row, in front of the council-lodge, while Rene
Bourdoise and the three remaining Hurons wxTe
to be tortured at the other village. The pris-
oners received their doom calmly, the Hurons
looking coldly on the preparations, which were
begun at once, to carry out the sentence of the
council, which then broke up.

When Kiskepila found all his efforts fruitless,
he took the arm of the warrior, who had assisted
him to the spot, for his strength began to fail
very rapidly, and, in silence, returned to his
tent, determined not to look upon sufferings
which he could not prevent or alleviate. Morn-
ing Flower awaited sadly the termination of the
council, and wept over the fate of the black-
gown ; but she recalled to memory the beautiful
lessons of patience which he had taught her, and
suppressed the manifestation of her grief.

The Huron messenger of Ahasistari struck
14

158

THE COUNCIL.

directly through the forest in the direction of the
place where the braves were supposed to lie con-
cealed. The stars were shining in the clear
heavens, and an occasional glance at their spark-
ling orbs served to guide his path. Up over
hill and steep ascent, over swamp and morass
went the swift Indian, at his leaping trot, tireless,
never pausing. Midnight came, and the runner
still pressed on; his moccasined feet springing
yet lightly from the soft turf, as he bounded on.
Darkness melted slowly into the gray of morn,
and morning brightened into day, and yet the
Huron speeded on. At length he paused upon
the summit of a little hill. At its foot, clear
and pellucid, flowed a gentle stream. But no
trace could he discover of any living thing upon
its banks, or in its surrounding forest. A mo-
ment more his eye scanned the wood, and then
descended to the water's edge. As he leaned
upon his rifle, he carefully observed the curi
flowing by him, till his gaze seemed riveted by
a floating twig, with green leaves upon it. An
eddy whirled it in towards the shore, and he
drew it towards him with the butt of his rifle.

THE COUNCIL,

159

The fracture of tlie braricli was fresh, and it was
evidently torn, not bitten off. Swinging his
rifle into the hollow of his arm, the runner
turned directly up the stream, taking care to
leave no tracks behind him. For some time he
proceeded on )iis course, still casting an occa-
sional glance at the forest around him, and on
the ground before him, watching for the marks
of a trail. Suddenly he paused, and looked
intently upon the ground, and then stooped down
to examine the surface more closely.

*^ Hugh ! pale-face ! " he exclaimed.

The step was turned from the stream ; treading
cautiously, so as not to obliterate the trail. He
followed it back to the water's edge, and exam-
ined the bushes which grew there ; they were of
the same kind as the branch which he held in
his hand. Falling into the trail, he traced it up
the hill, along the summit of which it ran. At
length a low whistling struck upon his ear, and
he paused to listen; and then crept on more cau-
tiously. At the foot of a large tree, on an ele-
vated spot, from which an extensive sweep of
the forest, facing towards the Mohawk village,

""■IPPM

160

TEE COUNCIL.

was visible, sat the figure of a white man, holding
in his hand a large rough ox-horn, wiiich he
was busily engaged in shaping into a powder-
horn. Every now and then he compared it
with the one which was slung at his side, and
then renewed his labors. Suddenly a new idea
seemed to strike him; and, putting it to his
mouth, he gave a blast, which made the Huron
start with surprise. Then he began at once to
shape the small opening into something like a
mouth-piece. At last he seemed satisfied, and
putting it to his lips, sounded it again.

" Ha ! that will do ! " he said at length ; " good
idea; Indian hates the sound of a horn, and I
like it. Well, I may want it soon ; " and he
stuck it in his belt. As he did so, the Huron
runner stepped before him.

" L'Espion Hardi ! " The scout sprang to his
feet, grasping his rifle.

" Ah ! Huron ! " he said, as his eye fell upon
the dress and paint of the Indian ; and he re-
siimed his seat again.

'*' Huron ? Yes ! No Mohawk ! or " — and the
Indian pointed significantly to his scalp.

THE COUNCIL.

161

" Right, Huron ! I was making a powder-
horn, when I thought of the trumpets of Cham-
plain, as he marched to battle. Ah ! did you
ever light under Champlain, Huron ? "

" No ! the chief and many of the braves were
out ! "

" Yes, I know it, Huron ! Well, it came into
my head to try how a good blast would sound
in this old forest. It was rash, I w^on't deny
it," he continued, as the Huron shook his head ;
" but a Frenchman loves the sound of the trumpet.
Listen now," he said, a])plying the trumpet to
his lips once more; but the Indian placed his
hand upon it and said :

" Daring scout ! Mohawk hunter may hear ! "

" Yes, yes ! but when w^e were out against
the Mohawks with Champlain, he let them hear
more of it than they liked."

" Great brave ! " said the runner.

" Yes, he was a warrior ! It docs me good to

hear his name shouted in a brisk cliarge; it

helps wonderfully, although he is dead and gone

now. Yes, he was a man," continued Pierre,

sorrowfully ; " no such man in all the province
14* L

■MPHHMIi

162

THE COUNCIL,

I ,

noAv, or these rascally Mohawks would be taught
a lesson worth remembering."

" The daring scout is with the Huron braves ? "
asked the runner.

" Yes ! and I suppose you are the messenger
that I am to look for ? " The runner nodded his
head, and the other continued :

" They are across the stream ; let us go ;" and,
swinging his rifle over his shoulder, the scout
descended the hill with rapid strides. When
they approached the stream, the runner glided to
the side of the hunter, and holding up the broken
twig before him, said :

"Daring scout casts a trail upon the water.
Huron found this far down the stream. '^

The scout looked at it for a moment, while the
runner explained himself; and then, lialf angry
at the implied reproach, answered :

" Well, and but for that twig you would not
have found us ; you missed the trail ! "

." I crossed it in the night," said the Huron,
" but not far off. Up or down the stream, the
Huron would soon have found it."

"Far enough, at any rate," said the scout,

THE COUNCIL.

163

'* or you would have been here at once, without
striking on the stream below. See, here is one
of Qiiickfoot's marks upon this oak ; he followed
directly upon the trail, and even made it plainer,
for you, by these gashes ! ^'

'' Bad ! " replied the runner quickly ; " Mohawk
keen eye ! "

" Night and day," continued the scout, " we
kept watch, by turns, upon that hill which over-
looked the path, waiting for the messenger, whom
Quickfoot told us Ahasistari would send,"

" Huron ! " said Pierre, after walking some
time in silence, "have you seen the prisoners?"

" Yes, from the woods ; saw blackgown walk-
ing about."

" Well, perhaps then they won't attempt to
kill them yet, and we can get there in time."

The Indian shook his head, and said :

" To-day council ; to-morrow torture ; daring
scout knows how it is."

" Then," said the scout sternly, as he strode
along with swifter step, " then, Huron, there will
be at the dance some guests not invited."

They hastened on in silence, until they reached

mfmmmm

■W«B«PPMI«imPOT

164

THU COUNCIL.

the place of concealment. It was well chosen.
In an extensive thicket, a space had been cut
away, and here the warriors were lying about in
groups upon their blankets. Exclamations of
delight welcomed the scout and the runner, and
the whole body assembled in council. The run-
ner explained the condition of things, and deliv-
ered the order of the chief; and in a few moments
more the party, nineteen in number, took up their
line of march, throwing out active scouts in ad-
vance, to guard against any accidental meeting
with the Mohawks.

l*m_

CHAP TEE X.

Tim TORTURE.

IMMEDIATELY after the breaking up

of the council, the Mohawks began tlieir

preparations for the coming festival.

Four stakes were planted in front of the lodge,

and piles of fagots w^cre gathered in the forest.

At a little distance beyond the first, four other

stakes were placed, to which the prisoners, whose

fate w^as postponed, were to be bound, that they

might witness the agony of their brethren, and

suffer, themselves, in anticipation. The youtlis

of the village now commenced to gather about the

lodge, in order to enjoy the preliminary torture,

which was permitted them for their own especial

amusement, and to practise them in the ways of

cruelty. This sometimes endured until taken

105

166

THE TORTURE.

part in by the braves, when it did not cease until
death brought relief to the victim. Le Loup
and Father Laval were brought forth and tied to
two of the stakes, and the clamorous mob hov-
ered around them, pelting and annoying them in
a thousand ingenious modes of petty torture.
They soon, however, became more systematic,
and, drawing off to a little distance, practised
upon their living targets, with the bow and
arrow, and the tomahawk. Le Loup stood up
witli the proud and fearless bearing of the war-
rior, his steady eye gleaming unmoved upon the
flashing weapon, as, hurled from the skilful
hand, it grazed his temple, and sank quivering
into the post behind him. Another and' another
threw; it was a desperate game, in which the
winner was he who came nearest to death with-
out touching life. Father Laval endured with
the meekness and patience of the martyr; his
eyes were upturned to heaven, for he dared not
look upon the hand that threw the coming
weapon. Kiohba, the Mohawk, stretched out
upon the soft turf, watched the youthful tor-
mentors with quiet enjoyment, occasionally sug-

TUE TORTURE,

167

gesting to them some new mode of increasing the
sufferings of the victims. At length, as his ap-
petite for cruelty became excited, he arose, and,
seizing one of the tomahawks, drew back and
hurled it at the Jesuit. The weapon whistled
through tlie air, and struck the post by his tem-
ple, driving a lock of his hair into the wood. A
shout of delight arose from the crowd at this
evidence of skill, and Kiold)a, raising another
weapon, aimed a second time at the priest. It
struck upon the other side as truly as the first,
and the victim stood drawn back to the post by
his own hair. Eenewed applause broke from
the youths, and each one endeavored to emulate
the skill of the warrior. After some time they
grew tired of their sport, and the prisoners were
permitted for a while to remain unmolested.

As the crowd drew away from the spot, the
figure of a maiden glided silently to the side of
the Jesuit, and, offering a cooling draught to his
parched lips, bathed his brow, which the intense
excitement had caused to throb with feverish
pain.

"Stranger from over the far waters, Morning

iipIP^

"1* I'l ■■n^MHraw ■ l,fl

168

7»^J5? TORTURE.

Flower thought once to avenge upon thee the
wounds of the Young Eagle. But blackgown
has pardoned the wrongs of the Mohawk girl.
Thou hast told us of the glory of forgiving and
loving our enemies — Tulhasaga, thou art the
enemy of the Mohawks, but Morning Flower
doth not hate thee/'

" Heaven bless thee, my cliild, and lead thee,
through the merits of Him who died upon the
cross, to the way of salvation, preserving thee
from trials and sufferings," said the Jesuit, sadly
but fervently.

The Indian girl placed herself upon the grass
and looked up into his face affectionately, as if to
a father, and said, as she caught the mournful
expression upon the countenance of the priest :

" Blackgown, tliou hast told me that each one
shall bear his cross, as the Saviour, of whom thou
speakest, bore liis. Blackgown, thou art bound
unto thy cross ! "

In a moment, the sad expression passed from
the features of the Jesuit, and, with a holy
enthusiasm, he exclaimed :

" Oh God ! in tlie midst of sorrow and tribu-

THE TORTURE.

169

lation, thou dost send down consolations un-
speakable to thy servant; by the mouth of this
wild maiden, thou hast uttered to me words of
sweet and saving import ; thou hast strengthened
me ; thou hast consoled. Oh ! how happy to
bear my cross, to suffer — to suffer for thy sake!
Gentle maiden— woman still! woman who did
not shrink from the cross and its ignominy, from
the shouts and curses of the crucifiers ! woman,
still the faithful and the pure, and the unswerv-
ing! woman, the holy, holy from the holiness of
the stainless mother, pure from the purity of the
immaculate, gentlest of God's creatures — it was
given to thee to be the angel of mercy and the
comforter of the afflicted. Kind maiden, thou
hast soothed the sad spirit; may the mother most
pure, the en nobler of thy sex, the ever virgin,
intercede for thce.^'

And then the spirit of the captive seemed
wrapt in meditation, and he stood, with eyes cast
upwards, and lips moving silently. A holy and
tranquil glow crept softly over the face of him
who awaited a death of horrible torture. Sweetly
it grew upon that countenance, the beam of
16

170

THE TORTURE.

prayer, and liope, and joy, spreading from feature
to feature, till nothing of earth was left. Up-
wards, upwards so.'ircd the soul upon the wings
of lofe; upwards until it seemed already to be
mingling its whispered orisons with the seraphic
choir. Hast thou looked upon the sunlight
stealing gently o^er a sJiadowcd spot? Ilast
thou marked the sombre eloud disperse, until
nothing but the glad skies looked down upon
theo? Hast thou watched the shrouding mist
evanish, or the pale hue of sickness brighten
into the red glow of health ? Thus fled sorrow
and sadness from the captive's face.

The untutored maiden looked in wonder on
the change wrought, as it were, by one uncon-
scious word. Here she sat, looking fondly up to
that glorious, heavenly face, catching from its
pure mirror a reflection of holy thought. Un-
conscious the Jesuit stood, visions of bliss hovered
around him; the gentle zephyr that fanned his
cheek seemed beaten on it bv the wino;s of ser-
aphs; joyous songs broke upon his ear, and
clouds of incense floated sweetly over his wrapt
senses. Death and torture were before him, but

\ '.

THE TORTURE.

171

licaven was above lilm : could ho look down-
"Nvards to the earth and its ileetin«r toni)(Hits? O

derful

>f' Christianity ! which

amo

wondcriui mission

upon earth to raise man lar aDovc tiie very suD-
limest idea of the heathen God, to inspire him
with thought above the power of mortality, to
give him a life which death could not extinguish
— a life beyond and above this earth — a ray of
the Spirit of God. Still unmoved the Jesuit
stood, his head thrown back and resting upon
the stake, his body supported by the cords which
bound him, every function slumbering, every
energy absorbed. He was in truth oidy an im-
prisoned soul. Welcome the knife, welcome the
torture, welcome death by fire, by steel, by slow
delay, for the spirit is away upon its wings, al-
ready soaring in pre-enjoyment with the blessed.
What are a few short hours of suffering to the
eternity of such bliss? Oh yes! now welcome,
Death ! for thou canst only be the usher of
eternal life !

Like the shadow, when the sunbeam has passed,
came back the thought of earth to the soul of the
priest. A deep sigh broke from his half closed
lips :

172

THE TORTURE,

" How long ! O Lord ! how long ! *'

Awc-strickcn sat the simple Indian maiden, as
she gazed upon that countenance effulgent with
ineffable happiness, glowing with unearthly
beauty. With parted lips and fixed eye, she
gazed reverently — for woman, blessed as the
instrument of the great blessing to man, catches
intuitively tlie beam of heaven^s light, and re-
flects it in her soul.

"Mary — !" exclaimed the Jesuit, and the
broken aspiration was finished unheard.

" Mary ! " repeated the Indian maiden, in her
soft and musical accents. " Mary ! " There
was prayer in that whispered word — prayer of
the soul — and it arose from the wild heart of
the untutored Indian — from the soul of the
ecstatic priest — " Mary ! "

At that moment came, swelling from the prison-
house of the captive Hurons, the sound of a
Christian hymn. From deep stern voices came
it, but the melody was sad and plaintive, and
varied with the varying measure of the rude,
unpolished verse.

THE TORTURE.

Hear mother, hear!
Hear, Queen of the bright and blessed 1

Now that death is near,
The prayer to thee addressed I

Hear, for the day is flying,

And thy poor children, sighing,

Beseech thy aid in dying.

Hear mother, hearl

Mother of mercy, hear!

The sun on earth is sinking;
With mingled hope and fear,

Thy children's hearts are shrinking ;
Mother, heed the suffering child,
Beaten, wounded, bruised, reviled,
Tortured in the forest wild.

Mother, mother hear !

Mother, by His blood !

Mother, by thy tears and sorrow,
By the earth's redeeming wood,

Aid us in our strife to-morrow !
Win from thy all-conquering Son,
By the triumph he has won,
Grace and strength to gain our own.
Mother, mother hear !

178

Softly hushed the sound of prayer, and the

notes died away, but the still form of the Indian
15*

mmm

mmmmili

174

TJIF TORTURE.

girl scarce moved — waiting for the deep-ton erl
music to awake again. It came not, and she
murmured in the air, '' Mother, mother hear I ^'

The haughty bearing of Le Loup liad passed
away; tlie keen eye, that had gazed unmoved
upon the flashing tomahawk, was dimmed and
softened ; his licad rested upon liis breast. Ho
was wrapt in prayer. He was the savage warrior
no longer, but the Christian.

At length, from the council-lodge came faintly
swelling the voice of tlie young novice^ and
altc'uately responding the full chorus of the
Harons. They were reciting the litany. Sadly
struck the tones of his young companion's voice
upon the ear of the Jesuit, Tliey were weak
and tremulous. Morniiig Flower listened — was
it the warrior's death-song? Never before, in
the villages of her tribe, liad such chant been
raised by those who were about to die. The
Jesuit and Le Loup joined in the responses, and
the solemn ^' Iliscrcre noh'is^^ rose distinct and
clear. The maiden hung in wrapt attention on
the alternate sounds of many voices mingling in
heartfelt prayer. Thus passed the autumn sun-
set.

THE TORTURE.

175

Ahaslstari sat alone in his rocky hiding-place.
Ever and anon he cast a meaning glance towards
the west, wdiere the sky was yet tinged with gold,
althoiigli the orb of day had disappeared. Then
he rested his head upon his knees and remained
immovable. His riflo lay at his feet, and liis
remaining arms upon it, as if he had just been
preparing them carefully for immediate use.
Twilight came, still the chief moved not. At
length he arose, and approaching the entrance of
the cavern, looked out upon the forest, listening
intently for some welcome sound — nothing struck
upon his ear save the rustlinc?: of the leaves and
the low swinging of the overhanging branches.
There was silence in the vast forest; the hum of
the little insect, as it uttered its evening prayer,
was the only sound of living thing that broke
upon the solitude. For a moment it seemed that
a shadow of doubt i)assed across the brow^ of the
warrior. It occurred to him that his party might
have been cut off. He could not doubt but that
Watook hnd collected a force and followed in
pursuit; and that Quickfoot, his first messenger,
had fallen in with them, as otherwise the saga-

■^ l l ur illiii Hij) I f ff

wmmmmmm

176

TIIF TOR TURK

cious Huron would ha\e returned days ago, to
share the fortunes of his chief. Perhaps his last
messenger had missed the trail in the forest, and
for a tijne the chief almost regretted that he had
not dared the risk consequent upon the conceal-
ment of so many men near the village, accom-
panied, as it was, with the advantage of their
proximity in case a sudden opportunity of rescue
presented itself. It was already time that the
party should have reached the place of his con-
cealment which he had designated as the point
of rendezvous. But hours might yet elapse
before the torture would begin, for although he
did not know the exact result of the councils
deliberations, he felt that there was little doubt
of the condemnation of Father Laval and the
other prisoners ; and that their lives hung upon
a thread liable to be broken at any moment by
the whim or caprice of the savages. As he cast
his eye around, indistinctly it cauglit the radiance
of a stream of light illuminating the mist that
hung above the village. Taking up his arms he
descended to the forest below, and a few moments'
walk brought him to a place whence he could

THE TORTURE.

177

catch a glimpse of the lodges, and at the same
time be near the path to the rendezvous. The
glare of a large fire flashed up towards the dark-
ening sky, and tinged with red the waving"
branches of the^ forest. Two figures were still
bound to the stakes, and groups of boys and
men were loitering about, seemingly awaiting
some approaching event.

"The Hurons must speed on, or they will
come too late," exclaimed Ahasistari ^jitterly, as
he stretched himself upon the ground.

The fire flashed out more brightly now, for
some hand had cast more fuel on it; and the
light of the flame played around the mild face of
the Jesuit as he stood bound to the stake. His
high, bold forehead seemed to catch the floating
beams, which lingered round it, like a saintly
halo of coming glory. Ahasistari recognized the
form of Father Laval, even at that distance, and,
looking for a moment in silence, exclaimed:

"They will come too late! there will be one
more stake and one more torture ! ]\Iy father, I
swear to thee that Ahasistari will share thy for-
tunes, whether of death or life!" and he arose

-Tg;.'-r7:

178

THE TORTURE,

and turned towards the village. Suddenly he
paused, and cast his eyes to the northeast as if he
would penetrate the dark veil tliat stretched before
him ; then he laid his ear to the very ground and
listened. At length casting his riile upon the sod,
he sat down, and shrouding his face in his hands,
remained still and motionless as a statue.

It seemed as if the Mohawks were about to
anticipate the hour of final torture. Tlie pris-
oners were brought out, one by one, and bound
to the stakes until the eight Avere occupied. The
crowd began to increase, and new fires were
raised. Tiie women gathered the fagots nearer.
Father Laval looked sadly upon these prepara-
tions ; but the Huron, Le Loup, perceiving what
was ])assing in his mind, said in broken French :

^* Not yet, my father, not yet. The Mohawk
is not so merciful! he loves hours of torture! '^

"Oh God! give iis grace to die worthily!^'
exclaimed the Jesuit, and then resumed his sikmt
prayer.

Darkness was deepening, but the ligljts of the
blazing fires rushed up fitfully to heaven, casting
a red gleam upon the scone around, and making

THE TORTURl^.

179

the ferocious Mohawks, as tliey flitted about In
their fell work, resemble so mauv fiends at tlieir
infernal orgies. The prisoners were stripi)ed of
their clothing, and the ^vork of torture began.
Snatching up burning pieces of wood, tho
savaijes held them close to the naked skin until
its surface blistered witli the slow heat; then, as
the swollen part became dead and senseless to tiie
lesser torture, they pressed the live coal into the-
raw flesh until it hissed, and i\imcd, and cracked,
while the o:roan of intense aizonv arose from the
lips of the white suiferers. The stern Indian
endured in silence. Father Laval, as the red
cinders pierced his flesh, elevated his soul to
God, and dwelt upon the sufferings of him whose
brow had borne a crown of thorns, whose hands
and feet had been torn with nails, ^vhose precious
side had been opened with a spear. "Jesu3,
Mary, and Joseph,'' were ever on his lips, and
his upraised spirit seemed at last to forsake and
leave behind it the sorrow and sufferings of earth j
and to float already upwards through a sea of
ineffable delii>:hts.

Rene Bourdoise, reserved for future death, did

ft' ' ■H »»Wil"iW . ^II | W| l

■

180

TUB TORTURE.

not escape from present torture. His tormentors
surrounded him, and forced into his tender skin
email splinters of pitch-pine, and, when a num-
ber had been pressed in thus, they applied blazing
torches to the parts which obtruded, and the
dark flame ran swiftly, from one to another,
along the bristling surface, until it became a
mass of fire. In vain the suffering youth strug-
gled to escape; his bands only permitted him to
wind round and round the stake ; but, whichever
way he turned, blows met him or blazing knots of
pine. Thus eight victims suffered — ten thou-
sand deaths were they enduring, and yet so skil-
ful was the Indian in his torture that death
itself could not relieve them. The novice, weak
from hi. long fatigues, yet sore from former
wounds and sufferings, at length became ex-
hausted, and hung supported by his bands alone.
Father Laval, moving in the midst of his tor-
tures around the stake, began to pray aloud :

" The pale-face warrior sings his death-song,"
Bald Kiohba, "how many warriors hath he
slain ? How many scalps has he taken ? He is
a woman ! a slave ! a dog } " and the shouts

THE TORTURE.

181

'g>

of the infuriated mob drowned the voice of
the priest.

In the tent of Kiodcgo, the chief, sat a
wounded man, faint and weak ; his form reclined
against a pile of furs, his hands covered his face,
his breathing was deep and stern, but there was
no other mark of life about Inm. At his feet
sat an Indian maiden — Morning Flower was
weeping!

Still on rang the furious shout of the wild
savao-e — on went the fearful torture — the fiend-
ish dance went on. But loudest of all arose
above the tumult the shrill voices of the beldames
as they gathercsl around Lc Loup. The Indian
heeded them not; he was pr(?paring himself to
die. Then for a time it seemed as if the frenzy
of the Moliawks was dying away, but it soon
broke out in renewed fury, and the various
crowds drew off to hurl the tomahawk.

" See," said Kiohba, " how a. brave can

strike!" and he repeated the feat of skill he had

before performed. With a laugh of scorn, an-

otiier Mohawk scepped forth, and brandishing

his weapon, exclaimed :
16

182

THE TORTURE.

" You Iiave grazed his head, I will drive the
ears of the blackgowii into the stake."

The Mohawk aimed at Father Laval, who
gazed upon him almost unconsciously. The
moment was one of deep peril ; no matter how
skilful the aim, a sudden motion of the victim,
an involuntary start would, instead of mutilation,
bring death. It was a feat of nice and precise
Bkill, and the Mohawk measured his distance
carefully, and drew back his arm.

Suddenly the peal of a rifle broke upon the
air, and then another and another, in quick suc-
cession, flashed from the forest, and a wild and
exulting sliout broke out. Down came the florce
Mohawk — another and another fell — whilst
the whole northern circle of the forest seemed
blazing \\Ai\\ continuous flashes. Hushed was
the voice of the warrior — mute the shrill tongue
of woman — terror-stricken, they clustered to-
gether. Their rifles, and bows and arrows w^ere
in their cabins; there was a scattering in wild
affright to obtain their arms ; one figure alone
sprung towards the bound prisoners, tomahawk
in hand.

i'UE TORTURE.

183

Ovor the wild peal of battle rose the firm voice
of Ahasistari, and the Iliiroiis s})rung out from
their covers to the charge, to strike the ellective
blow belbre tlie INlohawks could rally. Out from
the ini})euetrable darkness bounded these dusky
figun rushing on, with wild and exulting
shouts, to cut off the entrance to the cabins;
one, a h'the and youthful form, shaking fiercely
over his head his small steel axe, leaped forward
to the prisoners. Watook was rushing to the
rescue.

Kiohba pressed on in his fell purpose. TIo
reached the side of the novice, he wound his
hand in his long hair, he bent back his head,
and, glaring fiendishly into his face, he seemed
to make him die by slow and fearful agony j
then his weapon flashed above him, and came
down with a sullen crash, and the form of the
poor novice sunk lifeless, supported by the withes
that bound him to the stake. Kiohba unwound
his hand from his locks, and tore the scalp from
his mangled brow ; then he turned towards the
Jesuit. Le lioup struggled to burst his bands,
but his iron strength v/ould not ivail him; in

184

THE TORTURE.

helpless agony be had looked on. At that mo-
ment a well-known voice was in his ear; a single
heavy stroke severed tlie cord that bound him,
and the tall Huron, tossing up liis arms to
heaven, as if glorying in the thought of freedom
once again, sprung on to the rescue. The fierce
Mohawk was already by the side of the priest;
his arm was outstretched to aim the fatal blow,
when Le Loup, like a wolf upon his prey,
bounded on him. Down came the two powerful
savages — the armed and the unarmed — but
life and retribution nerved the heart of the Hu-
ron, and strung his sinews. Tlie weapon of
Kiohba was dashed from his grasp as he foil to
the earth, and he sought for the knife in his
girdle. For a moment it seemed doubtful which
would conquer. Over and over, the two rolled
swiftly upon the ground. At length the hand
of Le Loup rested upon the knife of his foe; in
a moment more it gleamed in the light, and was
buried in the heart of the Moiiawk. The strong
grasp of Kiohba relaxed, and, casting off his
nerveless hand, the Huron arose from the fearful
struggle. So rapid had it been that the last
prisoner was just released.

THE TORTURE,

185

Father Laval east liiinsolf upon Ills knees in
prayer, while tiie Hurons caught up what iirms
they could iiud, aiul, headed by Le ]joup, dashed
on towards the spot where A.hasistari and his fol-
lowers were contending Avith superior numbers.
The blaze of the fires cast a fearful light upon
the battle-scene, seeming to double the luunbers
of the combatants, and to swell their forms into
gigantic size. Two powerful Mohawks were
rushing towards their cabins for their arms; the
chief of the Hurons intercepted them. The first
attempted to close with him, but a single blow of
the tomahawk stretched him lifeless at his feet :
the second was upon him before he coidd recover
from his effort, and aimed a stroke at his head.
The Huron warded it skilfully, and they closed.
The struggle was terrific, but was short, and
Ahasistari, as he quitted the dead body of the
Mohav.k, cast a glance upon the scene of battle.

Fearful had been the first onslaui^ht of the
Plurons. They had met their foes; as in panic,
they broke away towards their wigwams, and l)y
the fury of their assault, had driven them l)ack
to the open space. Here they began to rally and

**<^.

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

I.I

1.25

l^|Z8 |2.5

If 140

12.2

2.0

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

33 Win MAIN STRUT

WltSTIR,N.Y. 14910

(71*1 373.4903

cS\

^V^

"^^

. -o^

■-*.m*-*:i&smmm!m,.

fTr-xtrr

''^ri'''*9\'msfgt.mMiM%y...%^t!l^^ ,'

186

THE TORTURE,

to fight with something of their accustomed
bravery. An Indian, taken by surprise, can sel-
dom recover, and the Mohawks waged an un-
equal battle with their fierce and determined
assailants; but fi^r their superior numbers, the
rout would have been instantaneous and terrific.
They began to rally ; the women, and children,
and old men appeared upon the scene, the women
bearing the rifles, and the bows and arrows of the
warriors. With renev/ed energy the Mohawks
fought, armed as they were with tomahawks and
clubs ; scarcely a shot pealed upon the air, and,
in the stern battle of man to man, no cry broke
forth. Suddenly upon the stillness came the
loud blast of a horn from the southern portion of
the forest, echoing and re-echoing in the hills to
the north ; then a terrific shout, and, high above
the rest, the battle-cry — "Champlain a nous I
Champlain I "

Sweeping down the sward rushed a band of
dark figures that seemed, in the flickering light,
of countless numbers, while the loud and deafen-
ing blast of the horn still rang on, and ever, as it
paused, the battle-cry, "Champlain! Cham-
plain ! " broke out.

THE TORTURE.

187

The Mohawk warriors stood agliast. Had tho
dead really arisen? Had the great medicine
accepted their challenge, and called the mighty
warrior from his tomb to the rescue? Was it
a ghastly troop, with horrible sounds of un-
earthly import, that came upon them? Their
arms dropped nerveless, and they paused in
their onslaught — whilst the Hurons renewed
their exulting cries, and charged once more
upon them. The fire now gleamed out fiercely,
stirred by a passing breath of wind, and the
fitful light discovered to the frightened Mo-
hawks the face and form of a white man bound-
ing forward, and waving his glistening blade
above his head.

"Champlain! Champlain! Mohawk dogs!"
shouted the figure in the Iroquois tongue, as he
dashed into their midst, striking down the first
he met, with his long and curved knife.

"The dead! the dead! Champlain!" ex-
claimed tlic paralyzed Mohawks, and broke
away from the field of battle. Women and
children, old men and warriors, mindful of the
scenes of the council, fled wildly off, veiling

Wk-

:'»i^'«i£jiiiwiteK«^^

MwniNPiP*Wp!

ii>

188

THE TORTURE.

their eyes from him whom they believed to
have arisen from the tomb: still in their ears
rung the cry of *' Champlain ! Champlaiu ! " and
the relentless Frenchman, with his band, smiting
right and left, pursued them. Terror lent wings
to their speed, and they scattered deep in the
forest.

By the homes of their early years — by the
council-fire, where their fathers had sat — upon
the turf where, in childhood's hours, they had
sported — still gathered a stern band of veteran
Mohawks. They were few in number — fewer
than their foes — but they were true and un-
yielding braves. For a moment, when the rout
began, the battle had ceased ; and the two parties
now stood gazing at one another in fierce defi-
ance. The Mohawks were armed with no
weapons but those of a hand-to-hand fight —
and Ahasistari, casting aside his rifle with a
noble generosity, sprung forward to meet his foe
upon an equality of arms. Knife in hand he
grappled with a warrior; the Hurons followed
his example, and for a moment there was seen a
etruggling crowd of indistinguishable figures;

THE TORTURE,

189

the

here and there, with a convulsive sprin*;;, some
form would cease its motion, and lie still and
silent as the sod it pressed. The rest still strug-
gled on. At length, from out the melee crept an
unarmed savage, wounded, coiling himself slowly
along the ground as if in dying agony. He
reached the corner of the lodge, and passing be-
hind its shadow, sprung quickly to his feet. His
eye fell upon the kneeling figure of Father La-
val as he bent him over a dying Huron, and
tearing off a portion of his belt, he stole quietly
behind him. In a moment he had gagged him
— in another he was hurrying him rapidly, in
spite of his resistance, from the spot. The priest
attempted to cry out, but it was in vain ; and
casting a lingering look towards the group where
his friends were fighting within reach of him —
yet ignorant of his danger — resigned himself to
his fate.

!Mr. ''"'■■" ^•'■WT 'm

>-¥>dU**«*-iK.'*«*»»i

CHAPTER XL
THE WREATH OF WILD FLOWERS.

IHASISTARI and his foes were strug-
gling ; the combat was fierce ; but, one by
one, the Mohawks were overpowered or
slain, and the Hurons were left undisputed mas-
ters of the village. The noise of battle had
ceased ; only the moan of pain broke the stillness
of the scene. Few, but the wounded and the
dead, were there besides themselves. Their chief
looked around in vain for the Jesuit and the
novice. He called out their names ; they did not
answer. They searched the village; none were
there but the feeble, and those who were unable
to flee. They turned in sorrow to the fires of
torture. Bound to his stake, supported almost
upright by his bands, like life but for the crushed

and bleeding brow, was the dead body of the

IflO

g E..

THE WREATH OF WILD FLOWERS. 191

gentle novice. Softly they loosened the cords,
softly as if, even in death, they would not ruffle
the placid slumber of those pale and delicate
features. They laid him down upon the turf,
and sought again for the Jesuit. He was not
there. Catching up a burning' brand, Ahasistari
examined the edge of the forest; suddenly he
uttered a low exclamation, and darted into its
depths. The glare of the torch, as its flame
tossed wildly in his swift course flitting past the
dark trunks of trees, looked like a red meteor in
its course.

The Hurons silently gathered their dead from
the field, and laid them down by the body of the
young novice. Then they stood around them
solemnly. A few moments passed thus in stern
meditation; when, gliding noiselessly into the
group, and pressing aside the rest, two figures
approached close beside the body of the novice.
A low but joyful exclamation welcomed them.
Father Laval heeded it not. The steel axe,
which Ahasistari bore, was yet dripping with
warm blood ; it told the Hurons the story of
the rescue. One by one came back the scattered
warriors firom the pursuit, and, last o^ ''

192 THE WREATH OF WILD FLOWERS.

Loup and Daring Scout. Father Laval knelt
beside the body of hh young companion ; tears
dimmed his eyes, and the voice of prayer, which
arose from his lips for the departed spirit, came
broken with sighs and indistinct with grief.
Torches of blazing pine, placed by the silent
Hurons at the head and feet of the dead, were
sending up their bright flame, capped with dark
clouds of smoke — fit emblem of the life of man.
Around knelt the Christian warriors, mingling
.their prayers with those of the priest of God.
The countenances of the Huron braves were
stern an<J solemn; no other mark of grief ap-
peared upon them. Kneeling at the feet of the
departed were Le Loup and Watook, and behind
them the stern scout. As he looked upon the
pale features of the novice, a tear stole silently
down his hard and weather-beaten face, and
clung amid the scarred wrinkles until it mingled
with the air, and arose to heaven, carrying with
it, like perfume, to the skies the unspoken prayer
of the melting heart. L'Espion Hardi was
thinking of the gallant son whom he had thus
buried in the forest. A hand touched him

THE WREATH OF WILD FLOWERS. 198

the

the
jntly
and
igled
I with
lyer
was
thus
him

lightly upon the shoulder ; when he looked up,
Ahasistari stood beside him, and beckoned him to
follow him. After they had gone some distance
from the spot, the chief paused^ and^ pointing to
the group, said :

"^L'Espion Hardi is of the race of the pale-
face. It becomes him to look to the burial of
his dead. Seel the good blackgown is wrapt
in sorrow ! the words of the chief would disturb
his spirit. The braves will bury their brothers I "

" Huron, I am but a rude forester. I have
lived in the woods till I am like the Indian
rather than my own blood and race" —

" Good ! " said the chief, nodding his head
approvingly; "Daring Scout is the brother of
the Hurons ! "

"Chief," continued Pierre, "the youth must
be buried like a Christian whit« man."

" The Hurons are Christians," said the Indian
slowly.

"True," replied the scout; "your brotheni

must not be turned into the earth like the

heathen Mohawk ! " We must bury them side

by side with the youth ! "
17 N

■•liillPI'P^^WP^WPIPPiW

^mmm.

194 TITE WREATH OF WILD FLOWERS,

"Huron and pale -face — all the same in the
ground — all the same before God!" »aid the
chief earnestly.

"Not the same here on the earth though!"
said the scout, clinging to the idea of the su-
periority of his race.

" No ? Indian tell truth ! Indian don't steal ;
he loves God and prays to him; what more pale-
face?"

For a moment the scout was silent ; at length
he said : " True, Huron, but the pale face is richer
and stronger ; he builds splendid cities, makes
fine houses, wears rich clothes, drinks costly
wines." The scout ceased as he caught the
meaning glance of the Huron's eye. But that
look passed away in a moment, and Ahasistari
said solemnly :

"What good all that — there and theref^* os
he pointed to the earth, and then to the sky.
The scout was silent, and the chief, turning
away, said : " Let us go ! "

" Yes, it is time to dig their graves; " and the
two entered the forest.

" It shall be," said Ahasistari^ " where the foot
oif the Mohawk shall not tread upon them."

- ;„

as
sky.
rning

the
foot

THE WREATH OF WILD FLOWERS. I95

Selecting a suitable spot, the Huron anil the
Frenchman turned up the sod with their hatch-
ets, and in a short time had scoojicd a resting-
place for the dead. Then they retraced their
steps to the village, and joined the group. Rude
biers were made of the branches of trees strewed
with the softest foliage, that the lifeless corp.se
might repase gently there. In one of the lodges
had been found the sacks in which, slung upon
their shoulders, the missionaries carried their
vestments and the sacred vessels in their jour-
neys through the boundless forests.

In his white surplice they robed the gentle
novice; in that pure garment in which he had so
often served at the holy sacrifice they wrapped
him for the solemn burial. His hands were
meekly crossed upon his breast. They raised
him sadly, and laid him on his bier; they lifted
it and strode forward.

At that inst4int a slight female figure pierced
through the group, and gazed for a moment on
the face of the dead. Then she placed a wreath
of wild flowers upon his brow, and, starting
away, the wail of the Indian girl arose for the
departed.

immm^maimi

195 TIIE WREATH OF WILD FLOWERS.

Bearing torches in their hands^ the procession
wound solemnly into the forest, and paused
beside the new-made grave. Slowly and care-
fully they laid him in his silent resting-place,
while the light of the torches beamed upon his
angelic face, and reflected from the glowing
colors of the wild flowers on his brow, his cheek
seemed to bloom with a tinge of life. Pie had
passed into death suddenly, in the midst of
prayer; its heavenly radiance still hovered
around the chiselled features. Beautiful in
death, crowned with the wreath of flowers, and
robed in unspotted while, the young martyr lay,
a halo of unearthly glory seeming to the rapt
beholders already to glow around his brow. By
the side of the gentle novice they stretched the
gcarrcd forms of the two Huron warriors. In
silence their brothers laid them down to minglo
their dust with one of another race, yet one in
faith, and hope, and charity; one by the bond
of that church which gathers alike all souls
within her fold.

*' De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine I " arose
in the deep voice of the priest, and the Hurons
responded.

23.

sion
used
?arc-
lace,
i hia
wing
ihcck
had
it of
vcred
il in
L and

rapt
By
d the
In
[linglo
3ne in '
bond
souk

' arose
luroDB

THE WREATH OF WILD FLOWERS. I97

O I how solemn was the burial ceremony there,
in the hour of midnight) by the wild gleam of
torches, under the forest-trees, with the dusky
forms of the llurons grouiKnl around the grave*

It was done. Upon the cold bosom of the
dead fell the clodded earth, whidi was to be the
dwelling-place and home of the body until its
mouldering dust should mingle with it. Care-
fully they replaced each sod, and, above the
whole, strewed the fallen loaves again so skil-
fully that it might never more be found save by
those who now looked upon it. As they finished,
a figure flitted from the spot ; the Indian maiden
had been gazing on the scene. In silence they
wended their way back to the village, Ahasistari
and Le Loup in the rear, covering every foot-
stejj, and removing every trace of thoir passage.
When they had reached the centre of the village,
the chief addressed the priest :

''Father, there is little time to spare; the

routed Mohawks may reach the nearest villages

of their tribe by daybreak, and we have many

days' inarch before us ! "

I am ready, my son," said the Jesuit sadly,
17*

, j»af,i«anti>mt^m!tu i«ii»ii»iiii lum

193 THE WREATH OF WILD FLOWERS,

for the death of his young companion wei<^hecl
heavily upon him. As he spoke, Morning
Flower stood before him, and, in a low tone,
mentioned the name of Kiskepila, and pointed
to his lodge. The Jesuit followed her thither,
while the Hurons made their preparations for
departure, gathering all the arms at the village,
and destroying them, and loading themselves
with a supply of corn for the march. Father
Ijaval found the young Indian stretched upon
his couch, his face covered with his hands.

" My son," he said, " bo not cast down ! "

The Indian looked up proudly ; but the glow
of spirit passed in a moment from his cheek, and
he said :

" The home of Kiskepila is destroyed ; his
people are slain, and he must lie upon his, bed
helpless as a woman! Bid the Hurons come;
Kiskepila would die ! "

At this moment Ahasistari entered, and stood
behind the Jesuit; all was ready for departure,
and time was pressing; but he waited patiently
till Father Laval should conclude his conver-
sation. As soon as the Mohawk saw him, he

THE WREATH OF WILD FLOWERS. 199

ver-
he

raised himself, and, with a look of proud defi-
ance, said:

" Kiskepila is the young eagle of his tribe I the
triumph of the Huron is but little without his
scalp/'

Ahasistari did not move; but the Jesuit
replied : " My son, do not entertain such
thoughts ; the Huron does not desire to shed
your blood. It is our sincerest wish to be your
friend, and the friends of all men rather than
their foes." The Huron chief assented.

After a pause, the Mohawk continued : " My
people are routed; but thuy fled, not from the
living, but from the dead! The blackgown
called the great white warrior from the spirit-
land to rescue him."

Father Laval listened in wonder, and replied :
" My son, this is some wild mistake."

"Champlain!" said the other; "Kiskepila
heard the cry, and saw the warriors of his tribe
turn like women from the face of the white man.
Wiio could fight the dead ? "

In a moment the whole matter became appar-
ent to the mind of the Jesuit. The division of

200 ^^^ WREATH OF WILD FLOWERS.

opinion in the village, in regard to the policy of
condemning so great a medicine as they consid-
ered Father Laval, had made the taunt of Kiohba
remembered ; and when they heard the cry
" Champlain ! " and saw the assault led on by a
white man, they believed that the challenge of
Kiohba had been accepted, and that the great
Frenchman had arisen from the tomb to the
rescue. Whilst the priest was endeavoring to
explain this to the Mohawk, Ahasistari left the
lodge, and in a few moments returned with
Pierre.

"L'Espion Hardi," he said. The Mohawk
looked upon the scout for a moment ; then
hiding his head in his hands, remained in
imperturbable silence.

"Yes! L'Espion Hardi," said the scout,
" that 's the name the Hurons call me, and, if I
had not been delayed in the swamp ground in
getting to my station according to the plan of
the chief; or, if he had held his fire a little
longer until I gave the signal, not a Mohawk
would have escaped."

" It is well," said the chief. " But L'Espion
Hardi was delayed in the forest too."

THE WREATH OF WILD FLOWERS. 201

ittle
awk

Dion

" Ah, your Huron nearly missed the tl'ail, but
we came in time."

" Yes. Ahasistari was about to fulfil his oath,
and go to die with his father at the torture fire,
when the sounds of the coming braves struck
upon his ear."

Father Laval addressed a few kind words to
the Mohawk, and left the lodge. The Hurons
bound all those who were left at the village; and,
having heaped a mass of fuel upon the fires to
impress any returning stragglers with the idea
that a strong force was still there, leaving a
broad trail to the edge of the forest on the north-
west as if striking to the waters of Ontario, then
doubling and striking into its depth towards the
northeast, hastened rapidly on their return.

The time which must elapse before any pursuit
could begin would enable them to escape, pro-
vided Father Laval held out. The party under
Watook had, in order to be sure of the route of
the Mohawks, proceeded to the scene of the first
encounter, and had there found the canoes which
had been concealed in readiness for another foray.
With fortunate precaution Watook, after observ-

202 '^JIE WREATH OF WILD FLOWERS,

ing the direction of the trail, had sent these barks
up a stream which Upwed into the St. Lawrence
from the Mohawk country. Several days' -rapid
journeying, in which they sought little sleep or
rest, brought them to the spot where the boats
were concealed. Here they eralDarked, and de-
scending quickly to the St. Lawrence, turned'
their course once more with saddened and chast-
ened hearts towards the Huron missions.

-■P] ,i^.i|j|^.^" I" III '■ I ■ ^^•««' <mmmm9f^^^m^^^mm^mHm^m^mmm

Chapter xil

THE CONCLUSION.

[EARS passed. Twice liad the siiown of

winter fallen ; twice the blossoms of

spring had bloomed : summer was upon

the land ; and the fields and waters laughed in

glad sunshine.

It was at the close of day that a group of

idlers, resting unon the quay at Quebec, gazed

out listlessly upon the waters, observing the

motions of the boats passing to and from the

few vessels lying in the liver. Occasionally a

canoe, paddled by Indians, would shoot out

from the shore, and pass gracefully along the

waters, as.its occupants bent their course towards

their settlements ; for the Christian Indians had

formed themselves into communities, and lived

around their churches and their priests — ^he

203

Pfll^if. '*.'•! 'i'i'.:!!";

I .■"im .

'-* :' 'i-fJ" *-"^V(JIWf »¥ij_i.fi

204

THE CONCLUSION,

flock around the shepherd — within the borders
of the province.

" The Indians are returning to their homes/'
said one of the group. " I thought they woujd
have remained in town to-night; to-morrow is
the festival of the Assumption."

" True," said another ; " but they arc returning
to celebrate it at their own villages."

" They are very pious and devout," continued
the first. " Their example is enough to shame
the better instructed white."

" Better instructed ! " said the second speaker
with a laugh ; " but that depends upon the sense
in which you use the phrase. They are unsophis-
ticated, it is true ; and their pastors, the Jesuits,
have succeeded in preserving them from the con-
tamination which so often follows in the path of
the white man in his contact with the Indians.
They are untaught in the world^s learning, per-
haps, and undervalue it; but I warrant thee,
neighbor, they will repeat the Pater and the
Ave, and the creed and' the decalogue, with thee,
and explain them too, as well as thou canst ; and
what is better still, neighbor, they practise what

THE CONCLUSION.

205

they have learned : a thing which you and I, and
many more of the ' better instructed/ sometimes
do not consider as necessary as we ought."

"Yes, I admit they are good and practical
Christians — thanks to the zeal and energy and
purity of life of their pastors."

" Is it not admirable, this courage and daring
of the Jesuits, that led them into the forest to
bring these wanderers to God ? "

" They tell me," said another, " that in France
there are some who begin to rail against the order
as proud, intriguing — as seeking after wealth
and power."

" Oh, doubtless ! Yes, I have heard so, neigh-
bor. They seek wealth in strange places ; here
in the forest, in China, in England on the scaf-
fold. Yes, it is the wealth of heaven they are
seeking! Ah, it would be a glorious thing to
place one of these silken-robed revilers by the-
side of an humble Jesuit in the forest, beyond
the great lakes, among the wild Indians, who
have never yet seen the face of a white man.
Give them both staff and scrip, and a wooden

cross-

y p"« "' «ii)r

■ ij /li i f ii

206

THE CONCLUSION^.

" Aye, or bind them both to the stake, with
the savage Iroquois around them, tearing their
flesli and torturing them to death, as I have seen
the Jesuit die, with a prayer upon his lips" —
said a voice abruptly, and the speaker rose from
a seat which he had occupied near the party, but
concealed from them by some bales of goods, and
turned his steps towards the town. A pause for
a moment ensued.

*^ Who is that man ? " asked one of the group.

"Ah, that is VEspion Ilardi!^^ said the
defender of the Jesuits, whose name was Paul.
" I have heard it said that he was out some years
ago with a party of Hurons, who endeavored to
rescue two missionaries from the Mohawks. It
is a sad tale ; but it so often happens thus in this
wild land, that one can scarcely recall all the
facts to mind. Yes, one they saved, Father Jean
Laval ; the other, a novice, was already dead at
the torture-fire when they became master of the
village. The Daring Scout is right; bind the
Jesuit and his reviler to the stake, and see who
will die with the sweetest conscience and the
most placid smile — see whose soul will best befit

THE CONCLUSION,

207

ith
leir
cen

but
and

D for

'oup.

the
Paul,
years

d to
. It

this
ll the

Jean
lad at

)f the

the

who

Id the

t befit

a martyr. Ah ! it is the hour of death which
proves the value of the past life — wliich tries its
motives, and explains and illustrates thcni. That
is the hour when cunning is of no avail ; when
wrong will weigh upon the conscience, and
wring out the cry of horror from the soul. The
death of one Jesuit is worth the whole lives of
a thousand of their revilers. The dying of the
one, and the living of the other, alike, are
irresistible arguments in behalf of the assailed
and the reviled.*

"The blood-prints of their martyrs have al-
ready rendered holy the borders of New France,
and sanctified and dedicated to God the great
valley beyond the western lakes. They have
bought it with their toils and suiferings ! "

* Compare the dying scene of the Jesuit martyr in China,
in Japan, amongst the Mohawks, or with Abenakis — even
upon the scaffold in tlie realm of Britain — suffering in the
dissemination of religion, in the teaching of morality, with
the life of an enemy of theirs, such as Sue^ spent in sowing
broadcast the seed of immorality and licentiousness, in
spreading infidelity, in assailing Christianity, and battening
upon sin and sorrow. Ah, it is glorious to have such ene-
mies; they are their own refutation, their own condem*
nation, with all rational Christians.

- SS3

fl"

208

THE CONCLUSION,

"And this IJEspion llardi — I have never
seen him before — does he come often to
Qnebec ? "

" It is very plain that you are not long of
New Friinee. Of late he conies frequently for
iammunition, as he says : but he always calls at
the house of the Jesuits : for during that event
he formed a reverential affection towards the
patient and enduring priest, which the rude
hunter cannot conquer."

"Then Father Laval is still here?"

" Yes," said M. Paul ; " he returned from the
Huron missions some months since, and is recruit-
ing his health, which >vas much shattered by the
incessant toils and labors of a two years' mission
among the wandering tribes, added to the effects
of the sufferings he endured while in captivity
-among the Mohawks. But see! yonder come
two canoes down the river towards the city ; all
that we have hitherto observed were leaving it."
* The rest of the group directed their eyes up
the river upon the objects indicated. Sweeping
^majestically around that point from which Father
iiaval had bid adieu to Quebec two years before,

THE CONCLUSION.

209

ever
to

g of
^ for
lis at
event
s the
rude

)m the
ecruit-
by the
nission
5 effects
ptivity
r come
ty ; all
ng It.
yes up
sleeping
Father
before,

came two canoes, each urged by several rowers.
Aided by the current, they rapidly neared the
town, until it was possible to distinguish iiie
faces of the occupants. In the first canoe stood
a young Indian of powerful frame. His head
was ornamented with eagle -feathers; his dross
was a rich robe of skins, bound round his waist
with a finely worked belt ; his face was free from
paint, and he was totally unarmed. Behind
him rowed another Indian, the cross around
whose neck proclaimed him to be a Christian.
The second canoe contained a single male and
two females; one youthful and beautiful, in
whom the freshness of girlhood had ripened
into fuller bloom. The other was older, and
the hand of time had already scattered a few
white hairs among her thick locks. At the
bow of each canoe was fastened a green branch,
the Indian symbol of peace and amity. The
young warrior paused for a moment to gaze
upon the growing city, and then bending again
to his paddle, sent ihe light bark on more fleetly.
The evening sun was still casting his glory upon

the waters, when the bow of the first canoe
18*

[[ I I iiiilUiilP

ipj^Hptp PwH l Ip- i iTTii

-'•'.■►...

210

ri/^; CONCLUSION.

grated on the sand of the quay, below the
lookers-on. The Indian warrior leaf^cd ashore,
and his companion drew the light bark .u])on
the beach. In another moment the whole party
Btood together. Then the Christian Indian
taking the lead, at a quick pace turned towards
the town. It was too common a sight in
Quebec to attract any extraordinary attention,
and the party passed on unheeded. The young
brave of the eagle feathers trod on in silence,
scarce deigning to notice what to him must
have been wondrous wealth and t)pulence, but
rei^ardless of all around he followed in thfe lead
of his guide. At length the Christian Indian,
ja Huron, paused before a house of some size,
and after looking about, as if to recognize the
landmarks of the place, advanced to the door
and knocked. In a few moments it waua
opened.

"A Huron captive from the Mohawks," he

isaid to the janitor, " would see his father of the

blackgown." The door was cast open, and they

entered. After a little delay the superior came

M thejn.

THE CONCLUSION.

[,he
>re,
)Dn
irty
lian
iirda
in
tion,

[)ung
euce,
must

but

lead
dian,

size,
e the

door
^vas

;' he
lof the
they
caiDB

" My fioii, what is it that you wish ? " ho said
to the Hitron.

"My father," ho replied, pointing to tho
young brave, "a Mohawk neophyte."

Long did the good old Jesuit gaze \x\ycM\ the
powerful young Mohawk, one of that terriblo
race of Iroquois wlio had hitherto resisted tho
efforts of the missionary, and now iicaven had
8ent one to his door demanding admission to tliO
church.

" Yes ; there is but one," he said, speaking
half aloud, " who can speak the Mohawk and
Huron tongue; and though in ill healthy he is
full of zeal. Stay," he continued aloud, "my
children. I will send one to you who can speak
your own language," and left the room.

The Mohawk remained cold and imperturbable,
evincing no curiosity as to what had been said,
or anxiety for the result, though he had closely
watched the face of the speaker. The females of
the party were not as impassive, but examined
with wonder the simple decorations of the
reception room, looking with astonishment
upon the few plain pictures which adorned the

^TTl^

212

THE CONCLUSION.

walls. At length a step Avas heard without;
and, through the opened door, entered a Jesuit.
His face was averted as he came in, but when
he had closed the door he advanced towards
them. It was Father Laval. His countenance
was very pale and attenuated, and his hair was
gray: for the toils of a few such years as his
had been will touch with white, as surely as
the placid flow of many. Suddenly the impas-
fiive face of the Mohawk warrior lit up with a
bright smile ; a low exclamation of surprise broke
from his lips, and he stepped forward to a spot
where, from a window, the light fell full upon
his manly form, and said :

*' Blackgown ! — Kiskepila ! — Morning Flow-
er!"

The Jesuit clasped his hands, and looked
towards heaven, for the memory of sad scenes
came over his soul ; but in a moment the cloud
passed, and joyously he stretched out his hands :

"Welcome, Young Eagle! Welcome, gentle
maiden! Sad were the scenes in which we
parted ; joyful is this hour in which you come
back to me, like the fruit of my captivity/'

THE CONCLUSION.

213

The Indian maiden wopt as she took the hand
of the priest, and she said : " In spring-time and
in summer, Morning Flower has strewed fresh
flowers ov^r the grave of the young pale-face j
and she has prayed there that the God of the
pale-face would hear her. She has said, often —
often: *Mary! Mary!'"

" And heaven has heard your prayer ! '*
exclaimed the priest.

" Kiskepila has thought many times upon
the words of the blackgown," said the younjj
Mohawk ; and pointing to the Huron captive,
he continued: "Kiskepila took the Huron
captive: and he told him over and over the
teaching of the good father, that he might not
forget it. The Mohawks are at war with the
French ; but the Mohawk brave has come hither
to be baptized. Kiodego has gone to the spirit-
land, and Kiskepila is a chief in his village.
Morning Flower often talked of the teaching
of the blackgown, and would seek the father of
the pale -face. She has come with the mother
of Kiskepila. '

Father Laval learned that the Indian raaideil,

214

THE CONCLUSION.

chcrlsliing his instriictioiis in her memory, and
gaining further knowledge from the Huron
captive, had refused to become the wife of the
chief, except through the Christian sacrament:
find to be received into the ehurcli the party
had undertaken the long journey to Quebec.
Kiskepila informed the priest that, after the
eurprise at the village and the departure of the
victors, the Mohawks had not reassembled until
late the next day ; that then a strong party, with
reinforcements from the other villages, had set
out in pursuit, but that after an ineffectual chase
had returned, having lost the trail upon the
banks of a stream of water that flowed into the
St. Lawrence; that he had explained away to
them the cause of their panic, and had ever
after maintained an ascendancy among them,
and led them on as their favorite war-chief.

Father Laval then began to question tlie two
neophytes upon the subject of religion. He
found their dispositions good, and their instruc-
tion, so far as it had gone, solid and well under-
stood; and, after consulting with his superior,
determined that they should be baptized on the

THE CONCLUSION.

215

morrow, as an oflTering to God, tlirough the
Virgin, on the feast of the Assumption, and
as a dedication of the nation of the Iroijuois
to Christ under her invocation. Accordingly
he placed the two females under the protection
of tlie nuns of the Ursuline convent, with
directions that the maiden sliould be further
instructed and prepareil, by meaus of an inter-
prctei', for the reception of baptism and tho
sacrament of penance. In their own house
Kiskepila and his two companions were shel-
tered — Father Laval that same evening attend-
ing the necessary preparations on the part of
the vounjj chief.

VV^ith the dawn of morning rung out the
joyous peals of the church-bells for the festival
of the Assumption. The city was throngeil j
many of the colonists from the country had
assembled to celebrate the festival in the co.pital.
Crowds of stran<>;ers and Indians filled the
streets. The military, in all the j)omp and
circumstance of war, were drawn out in long
array, preparatory to marching to the cathedral
to assist at the holy sacrifice. At length the

■■B

mmmi^imm

216

THE cdNCLUSION,

I s

1 1.

pealing bells again rung out, the solemn chant
arose in the holy temple, the deep-toned organ
swelled up its lengthened aisles. All Quebec
had gathered there, for the rumor had gone
forth that an interesting ceremony was to be
performed at the conclusion of the bishop's
eoleran mass. The hour came. Kneeling at
the baptistery, before the sacved font, were two
figures — an Indian warrior and a female. Over
the biCad of the latter was thrown a light veil of
muslin, through which her jet-black hair showed
its glossy hue. She was clothed in a neat- dress
of spotless white. Beyond them knelt a (;rowd
of mingled colonists and natives. Beside the
eacred ibnt stood up the 'Jesuit, Father Laval,
enrobed, and holding his missal in his hands.
On eithar side were acolytes, with lighted tapers
in their hands. The ceremony proceeded ; it
was finished; and with extended hands the
priest bestowed upon them his blessing. The
neophytes arose. In solemn procession they
moved towards the altar. The priest entered
within the sanctuary, and they stood before him.
He joined their hands; he placed the sacred

■'

THE CONCLUSION.

217

ey
rn.

ring upon the finger of the maiden ; he
uttered the final blessing of the church upon
those who worthily enter into the holy bonds
of matrimony, and the affecting scene was ended.
Tears gathered in the eyes of Father Laval as
he uttered the last prayer. Two years ago that
very day, upon the feast of the Assumption, he
had run the gauntlet in the villages of the
Mohawk. These two young souls were now
before him, the first fruits of his toils and
sufferings, through the merits of Christ, and he
returned thanks to God for his goodness in
sending him so abundant consolation. At this
moment a Huron pressed through the kneeling
crowd, advanced towards the Mohawk, and
stretching out his hands, exclaimed :

" Kiskepila ! there has been war between thy
people and my people. Let the liatchet be
buried. Let the tree of peace spring up, and
the Mohawk and the Huron will rest together,
like brothers, under its shade. It is the spirit
of the religion which thou hast embraced."

" The words of the chief of the Hurons are

good ! Kiskepila loveth peace I He has come
19

t- ' t!-».." i " ' ■

««**-

^mmmmmm'^

218

THE CONCLUSION.

unarmed into the fortress of his brothers. The
blackgown has taught Kiskepila that they are
the lovers of peace, the merciful, and the forgiv-
ing, who are to be happy ! '' and the young
Mohawk grasped the hard of Ahasistari.

"The lion and the lamb shall lie down
together — it is true; the Mohawk and the
Huron are friends," said a voice, and the ngure
of L^Espion Hardi was seen passing down the
aisle of the cathedral with a sad and pensive
step.

Together the two chiefs knelt before the altar,
and with uplifted hands the priest besought
blessings from heaven on the union, and peace
thus made and cemented by the solemnities of
his holy church.

"O God! I thank thee for thy ineffable
goodness to thy unworthy servant ! " exclaimed
the Jesuit as he departed from the church with
a happy heart. ''Thou didst turn ray steps
from the beaten path to those who had already

heard thy Gospel, to tread in *sorrow and
tivity th€ way to the darkened heathen ;
thou didst there make me plant in sadness

cap-
and
and

THE CONCLUSION,

219

3S of

suffering the seed which has this day, through
thy grace, borne fruit in peace and joy. Thou
guidest our steps and directest our energies.
Truly out of seeming evil thou dost bring forth
good."

In that year a solemn treaty of peace was
formed between the Frencli and the Iroquois,
and a mission was founded in the Mohawk
valley. And although interrupted by outbreaks
of the savages, and interrupted by wars, it con-
stantly revived, until at a period of ten years
later, "there, in the heart of New York, the
solemn services of the Roman Catholic church
were chanted as securely as in any part of
Christendom." *

* Dancroft, III. p. 113.

-eady
cap-
and
and