THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 
 LIBRARY
 
 ONAWAGO 
 
 -OR- 
 
 The Betrayer of Pontiac 
 
 BY 
 
 WILL CUMBACK LUDLOW 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 IRENE MULL-MARQUARDT 
 
 1911 
 
 ANTIQUARIAN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 Benton Harbor, Michigan.
 
 COPYRIGHTED 1908 
 
 BY 
 MRS. H. A. LUDLOW
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 Preface _____________ : ______________________ 1 
 
 The Betrayer of Pontiac ____________________ 11 
 
 BOOK I 
 I The Morning of the Pottawatamie 
 
 Expulsion _______________________ 25 
 
 II The Legend of the Miama Ghosts. __ 36 
 
 III The Cry ____________________________ 46 
 
 IV The Finding _______________________ 53 
 
 BOOK II 
 
 I The Ford of the River ______________ 63 
 
 II The Boy on the Horse ______________ 69 
 
 III The Drive to Arnold's ______________ 75 
 
 IV The Evening at Arnold's ____________ 81 
 
 V The Prophecy _____________________ 89 
 
 BOOK III 
 
 ^ I The Track that Lies In the Forest ____ 99 
 
 II Long's Strangers ____________________ 107 
 
 III A Shot From the Dark _____________ 116 
 
 IV An Unsprung Trap of Nature _______ 126 
 
 V V The Barrelless Flint-Lock Musket____ 132 
 
 VI The Warning ______________________ 140 
 
 VII The "Big Medicine" of Topinabe.__. 145 
 
 VIII The Compact With Moccasin ________ 154 
 
 
 3558
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 IX The Laugh In the Air 160 
 
 X Luxor 168 
 
 XI Empty-Handed Retribution 185 
 
 XII The Vision In the Moonlight 199 
 
 XIII The "Medicine" of the Eye 204 
 
 XIV The Unfolding of the Night-Mists. ___ 214 
 XV The Shade of Pontiac 222 
 
 XVI The Valley of the Shadow 236 
 
 XVII The Light on the Lake 243 
 
 XVIII The Woman of the Brow- Veil 260 
 
 XIX The Wolf 264 
 
 XX The Ants 274 
 
 XXI The Wreck 277 
 
 XXII The Inscription 294
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Will Cumback Ludlow Frontispiece 
 
 We-wan-a-issa Page 15 
 
 Tis a chance of a life-time " 25 
 
 The unshucked ear slipped from my grasp 108 
 
 I tottered to the fire and sank upon my 
 
 knees " 175 
 
 The black bulk of a ship__ " 288
 
 WILL CUMBACK LUDLOW 
 
 Frontispiece
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 T?NGLISH Literature as a whole has been 
 *--* divided into different Periods, each Period 
 being characterized by some peculiarity either in 
 thought or structure or both; but just how to classify 
 Twentieth Century Literature, that which is being 
 created today, is a problem beyond contemporary 
 critics. Are we creating a literature that will stand 
 the test of time and become classic, are we reflecting 
 the peculiarities of our own times, or our own man- 
 ners and customs, reflecting the great movements 
 that are making or have made history? These 
 questions none but future generations can answer. 
 Like every age, we are producing a lot of so- 
 called light literature, that which pleases for the 
 moment and then is as completely forgotten as if it 
 never existed. Efforts along such lines are useless, 
 worse than useless as far as posterity or the uplifting 
 of mankind is concerned. Such authors write for 
 the immediate return, such return taking the im-
 
 2 ONAWAGO 
 
 mediate form of dollars. Their ambition has been 
 realized, why should they be remembered? There 
 are men who write because they have the inspiration, 
 because they love to write, because the Muse will not 
 be stilled. Such men produce something worthy of 
 their efforts, something worthy the perusal of their 
 fellow-men, something worthy the study of the men 
 ana women as yet unborn. 
 
 There was a period in American Literature when 
 the historical novel held sway; then this gave way 
 to what critics and authors were pleased to call 
 "Realism." The "realistic novel" has seen its day 
 and is among the things that are passing to the 
 realms of oblivion. The historical novel is again 
 coming to be the great source of dissemination of 
 certain kinds of facts. This kind of literature is here 
 to stay so long as the human race delights to read of 
 the struggles civilization has had in establishing the 
 present order of things. 
 
 Onawago belongs to this latter class of literature. 
 In its pages we find portrayed in vivid pictures the 
 development of the Middle West. These pictures 
 are based on actual fact, nothing is exaggerated, 
 nothing too highly colored. The author has tried 
 to set forth the early struggles of the white settlers in
 
 GNAW AGO 3 
 
 Michigan. He has searched all available records, 
 read whole libraries that he might the more truly 
 arrive at fact, has personally studied the topography 
 of the country in which the scenes are lain; in fact, 
 he was intimately acquainted with every square foot 
 of the country in which the action takes place. 
 Therefore no errors of any kind will be found in 
 his descriptions of localities. 
 
 Will Cumback Ludlow was a friend to the 
 American Indian, and no man of the Twentieth 
 Century was more intimately acquainted with the 
 peculiarities of the real Indian than he. He was 
 interested in their history, in their manners, customs 
 and everyday life; further, he was interested in their 
 present and future welfare. He delighted to throw 
 side-lights upon their history, their ancient life. So 
 zealous was he, so true a friend to the Indian that at 
 times he incurred the good-natured ridicule of his 
 friends who often accompanied him in his researches 
 afield. But he took all this "chaff" with the 
 calm, serene spirit that ever marks the true ex- 
 ponent of Truth. He admired the Indian character 
 as it is today, a mixture of the vices of both white 
 and native American, but he admired more the 
 character of those sturdy Indian heroes who fought
 
 4 ONAWAGO 
 
 and died for what they considered right as against 
 the encroachments of the so-called superior race, the 
 the White man. In his tale of the early settlement 
 of Michigan, the author has chosen such an Indian 
 hero for one of his characters, not because he was 
 such a hero, but that more historic fact might be 
 placed before the reader, that a truer narrative might 
 be recited. Historic truth is that at which the author 
 aims. Being no respecter of persons, nor biased by 
 outside influence and race difference, the author has 
 two objects in view, viz: to relate historic facts, to tell 
 a pleasant and entertaining tale. 
 
 Onawago was a growth, not a spontaneous crea- 
 tion. Being an indefatigable worker, the plot was 
 worked over many times; each chapter was remod- 
 eled, yea, each line criticised and compared until no 
 error or flaw existed. It is a work of years, a work 
 that cost the author his life, so hard did he work to be 
 exact, to be beyond the reach of critics and reviewers. 
 Into this work the author placed all he possessed his 
 life such is the cost of production. His shorter pro- 
 ductions and articles number many, but it was in the 
 development of this work that the author shows of 
 what "stuff" he was made. Under the great brain 
 pressure and hard work the physical gave way and
 
 ONAWAGO 5 
 
 * 
 
 the real author was merged into the Great Unknown. 
 
 The author lived only two weeks after he had an- 
 nounced that Onawago was finished; in the prime of 
 youthful vigor the silver cord of life was snapped 
 almost instantly and our beloved Will was with us 
 no more. 
 
 After four years we cannot yet realize that he is 
 gone into the great Eternity and that only his works 
 live with us. There are some things to which we 
 cannot reconcile ourselves and this is one of them 
 that Will C. Ludlow is gone. We offer this last 
 tribute of love to him. If he wrought so nobly in 
 his early youth, what would the mature man have 
 done? Yet some of our greatest authors produced 
 their best at the early age of nineteen. Our beloved 
 friend strove for one thing, justice and truth for the 
 American Indian and this he sets forth in his work. 
 May it become a classic of more value than any that 
 has preceeded it. 
 
 Will Cumback Ludlow was born July twenty-third 
 Eighteen Hundred and Eighty-five. He did not in- 
 herit a robust physique and from childhood was a 
 great sufferer; but in spite of all physical ills, he cul- 
 tivated a sunny disposition and pleasant manners. 
 From earliest childhood he loved outdoor life, the
 
 6 ONAWAGO 
 
 * 
 
 woods and the denizens thereof. He was the friend 
 of the wild animal as well as the 'Indian. Nature 
 was his special study and delight. From about the 
 age of ten he began to spend as much time as possi- 
 ble in the woods, living the "simple life" and close 
 to Mother Nature. It was this kind of life that length- 
 ened his life to what it was. Each year he used the 
 gun less and the camera more; the thirst (if I may use 
 the expression) for blood or the "sportsman's fever" 
 became less as he came more thoroughly to know 
 the nature of the animals of the forest. The better he 
 knew them, the more he respected their instincts, de- 
 sires and mode of living. "The gun less, the camera 
 more" was his favorite saying as we often trudged 
 through the dense forest into the habitat of the wild 
 animal. 
 
 We may say that practically twelve years of his 
 life were spent in the open air studying Nature and 
 Nature's children. His spare moments and nights 
 were spent writing upon the subject that occupied his 
 mind during the day. Nothing ever escaped his 
 notice. 
 
 He was a true and exact observer, never jumping 
 at conclusions or imagining things as do so many nat- 
 uralists. Many is the day we have spent together in
 
 ONAWAGO 7 
 
 the woods, never firing a shot during the whole time, 
 but just observing the movements of birds and 
 animals. In fact, we never used our rifles except to 
 procure food. 
 
 Our friend did a great deal to put an end to pot 
 shooting and he did all in his power to put to flight 
 that pest of the forest, the "game hog". "If you 
 must shoot, give everything a fair chance for its life," 
 was his theory on hunting. Such was Ludlow in the 
 wild. As boy and man, nothing can be said but 
 praise for his gentlemanly bearing, his sincere regard 
 for others, his love for a "square deal." 
 
 In the midst of his efforts, his physique gave way 
 and he died of hemorrhage of the brain, October 
 Nineteen Hundred and Seven, deeply mourned by 
 his host of friends. The one who misses him the most 
 is the one who took the deepest interest in his wel- 
 fare and ever encouraged him in his chosen career. 
 That one is his mother, the truest and sweetest of 
 mothers that it has ever been my lot to meet. Train- 
 ed and encouraged by such a mother, our friend 
 could not do otherwise than succeed, though the path 
 looked stony and full of lions at times. One word 
 from his mother, and Will took a new hold upon the 
 difficulties in his way and usually the mountain was
 
 8 ONAWAGO 
 
 a mole-hill, the lions only fleeting shadows. None 
 can mourn the loss of a noble son more than a true, 
 sympathetic mother; none needs so high praise as 
 that same mother who brings to manhood this same 
 son and makes him a power in the world. 
 
 Will C. Ludlow certainly was a power that has 
 been felt all over this land in the chosen field of his 
 effort. How much of this he owes to his mother, 
 how much to himself, none can ever tell. 
 
 The friends who are left behind feel that there is 
 a gap that can never be filled, the silver cord is brok- 
 en beyond all hope of repair in this world. Let 
 us all lay a flower of tribute upon his tomb and trust 
 that his effots have not been in vain. 
 
 J. O. KlNNAMAN.
 
 " WE-WON-A-ISSA " 
 
 Page 15
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 THE BETRAYER OF PONTIAC
 
 ONAWAGO 11 
 
 THE BETRAYER OF PONTIAC 
 
 HpHE wan brilliancy of a sallow half-moon 
 -*- streamed down upon the slumbering garrison of 
 Fort Detroit. It was the night preceeding that mem- 
 orable May 7th, 1763. Peace and absolute quiet 
 brooded over the world. A solitary sentinel stationed 
 at a stockade gate, whistled softly the air of an old 
 English folk-lore. Naught else but the ceaseless 
 chant of the frog chorus over in the marsh, broke the 
 hushed sublimity of the Spring night, 
 
 Not even so much as a single ray of candle-light 
 was visible among the several score of log dwellings 
 of the French-Canadian settlers scattered about with- 
 in goodly distance of the defences of the Fort. The 
 small village reposed in utter darkness, as if deserted. 
 Circling in a broad sweep behind it ran the for- 
 est, gloom-wrapped and forbidding beneath the ghost- 
 like splendor of the moon-beams; when suddenly 
 well-nigh midnight the mellow strains of a whip- 
 poor-will came floating from within its gloomy soli- 
 tude.
 
 12 ONAWAGO 
 
 A solitary pedestrian immediately emerged from 
 the nearest stockade gate. His British uniform evi- 
 denced that he was an officer of the garrison. He 
 walked rapidly and with lengthy strides straight in the 
 direction of the calling bird. He entered the forest 
 where it bordered the river below the fort, and was 
 lost to view within its shadow. The whip-poor-will 
 was heard to call no more. 
 
 Along the river, the last smoldering embers were 
 whitening to ashes in the campfires of the Indian 
 villages. There were three of these villages. Farthest 
 up stream stood the Ottawas. Two miles below and 
 directly across-river from the fort, lay the Wyandot 
 village; while just below the fort and on the same 
 bank, reposed the Pottawatamies. 
 
 Not a human presence moved about among 
 them. Even the dog-packs for once were hushed. 
 The same profound peacefulness and quietude 
 brooded here as over the slumbering garrison. Yet 
 not with sleep did the villages lie thus enwrapped 
 in peace and quiet. Though the silence there was 
 oppressive in its breathlessness, yet the very atmos- 
 phere was surcharged with the spirit of unrest. With 
 nerveless impatience for the morrow's sun, two thous- 
 and braves pitched uneasily within their blanket-rolls.
 
 ONAWAGO 13 
 
 Yet throughout that vast array of darkened lodges, 
 not a human presence moved abroad not one of 
 the sleepless warriors ventured from his lowly bed. 
 Pontiac's law had gone abroad that nothing should 
 move for the remainder of this night his law 
 engendered of a sudden whim, a whim lest the 
 Great White Chief at the Fort might become suspic- 
 ious because of the uncurbed pow-wows of the earlier 
 evening, and especially if prolonged throughout the 
 night. Therefore had his order gone abroad that 
 naught should move tonight. 
 
 Meanwhile from one village to the other, alone, 
 prowled a solitary figure. He scowled darkly in 
 deep meditation as he stalked about among the 
 hundred or more lodges of each village. Several 
 times at as many different lodges he spoke aloud, 
 and each time a voice answered from within. Several 
 times someone sought him in counsel, but as many 
 times he sent them back to their beds with a bitter 
 rebuke. He alone was free to go and come this 
 night. None other might stir abroad. Thus had the 
 Otter commanded, he the Great Emperor of the 
 West, Pontiac, Great Chief of all the Ottawas, Chip- 
 pewas and Pottawattamies, and of all the nations of 
 the lakes and rivers of the North * * * * proud,
 
 14 ONAWAGO 
 
 vindictive, warlike and easily offended. * * * : 
 
 One alone among his subjects heeded not his 
 bidding. Shortly after midnight a sixteen-year-old 
 Ojibwa maiden, foster daughter of the Pottawattamies, 
 glided stealthily and noiselessly among the lodges of 
 the Pottawattamie village. She lifted the door-flap 
 of a mat wigwam and stole within. In a moment 
 she reappeared, bearing in her hand a pair of 
 brilliantly embroidered moose-hide moccasins. 
 
 She reached the out-skirts of the village where she 
 paused a moment. Then sweet and clear, the treble 
 of the whip-poor-will trembled upon the night. In 
 answer, someone spoke within the gloom of the 
 trees. Running lightly forward she approached a 
 uniformed figure standing silently at the foot of a 
 massive red-oak. 
 
 "So you are back already, little girl," spoke a 
 strong masculine voice in English. "You are swift 
 and silent as the wings of the bird whose name you 
 bear." 
 
 Without answering, she glided close beside him 
 and placed the moccasins in his hand. 
 
 "Tell Beeg White Chief dat Whip-poor-will send 
 um dese. Go now, you; go home to Fort now. 
 We-won-a-issa go back now, too."
 
 GNAW AGO 15 
 
 "Ah, but little girl, I have no pair of beauties 
 such as these made by your dainty hands. Am not 
 I so deserving of a token of friendship even as the 
 Major himself? I have not a single gift from your 
 hand, Catherine, not one thing to tell me that you 
 care for me. Come, have a pair ready for me when 
 I come tomorrow night." 
 
 " We-won-a-issa " she faltered, then ceased 
 
 speaking altogether." 
 
 " We-won-a-issa is the Voice-of-the-Night. She 
 it is who sings when the day is done. She is like no 
 other; she can fly among her sleeping people and 
 they do not awake. She it is who can meet her lover 
 when she will and the world be none the wiser. She 
 alone can bead and sew so deftly and with such taste 
 that the Great Father of the Fort will wear no other 
 moccasins but hers. And yet yet even when her 
 lover begs, she it is who can refuse him even a single 
 pair of worthless moccasins!" This with quiet banter 
 in his tone; then softer: "I am going now. Good- 
 night, little girl, come." 
 
 She slipped close before him and laid a hand 
 tenderly upon his shoulder, gazing up into his face. 
 He stooped and placed a kiss lightly upon her fore- 
 head.
 
 16 ONAWAGO 
 
 " No go," she whispered softly. "No go. Listen. 
 Whip-poor-will mebbe make um moccasins mebbe 
 not." 
 
 "And why 'mebbe'? Does my little girl really 
 not care for me any more?" 
 
 Suddenly she went a-tremble with excitement. 
 She seized the Englishman firmly by the sleeve and 
 was urging him to follow her. 
 
 "But why where is it you go, little one? You 
 make as though to lead in the direction of the Otter's 
 own village. Yours is farther down-river. I have 
 no business near the Otter's people this time of night. 
 Tell me what you mean by this why this sudden 
 excitement of yours?" 
 
 " We-won-a-issa go to Big Chief. Tell him love 
 you. Find out." 
 
 "Find out! Find -out what? What in the name 
 of Heaven would you find out from Pontiac about 
 your loving me? Come, foolish little girl, what do 
 you mean? Nor will I go a step farther till you tell 
 me!" 
 
 "O no, no stop! Come! We-won-a-issa go to 
 Pontiac. Find out. Den you know too. Come." 
 
 " Not one step, I swear, till I understand what on 
 earth you are getting at what you mean by chasing
 
 ONAWAGO 17 
 
 me along like this to the Otter to find out some crazy 
 thing about me. Here's far as I go, not one step 
 farther!" 
 
 She sank to her knees in mute appeal to him. 
 He laughed, leaned over, and seizing her none to 
 gently by both shoulders, raised her forcibly to her 
 feet. 
 
 "Now you stand up here and tell me what the 
 devil you mean by these damnable actions! Tell 
 me tell me, I say! I'm through fooling now. Tell 
 me or I'll split your bloody head open!" and he 
 flashed his sword from its scabbard. She turned and 
 would have fled had not he grasped her roughly by 
 the shoulder and jerked her back beside him, 
 when 
 
 "The English are dogs!" she hissed venomously 
 in the language of her people. "When the Whip- 
 poor-will sings again there will be not one cur of 
 them left ! Howl! for it is the last time you will be 
 heard!" 
 
 Something small and glittering flashed in the 
 moon-light. The Englishman saw it in time to seize 
 her wrist. With a subtle twist he wrenched it from 
 her and deposited it in his pocket. 
 
 " Now go, you little red devil. I've a sound
 
 18 ONAWAGO 
 
 notion to run you through for this treachery. I'm 
 damned if I wouldn't if you weren't so bloomin' 
 well-standing with the Major." 
 
 Already she was gone, vanishing as it were,within 
 the shadowy gloom of the trees. For an instant the 
 Englishman stood dazed, then uttering a sharp 
 exclamation, he suddenly wheeled about and rapidly 
 strode through the forest in the direction of the Fort. 
 
 "My God!" he muttered, "My God! I must 
 inform Major Gladwyn of this. We're every one of 
 us doomed if I don't. I believe it's treachery, sure 
 as the shades! 'When the Whip-poor-will sings 
 again there will be not one cur of them left!' That's 
 the meaning of Pontac's 'brightening the chain of 
 friendship'; tomorrow it will be done with blood for 
 polish. And they've filed the muzzles off their guns. 
 When they danced this evening, I told the Major I 
 liked not the look of things. Great Heavens, can't 
 I walk faster than this !" 
 
 Then he broke into a run. 
 
 An half hour later, Major Gladwyn, the com- 
 mandant, learned that which, next day, saved the 
 life of every soul within the walls of Fort Detroit. 
 
 Whip-poor-will, after leaving the Englishman, 
 hastened toward the camp of her foster tribe, the
 
 ONAWAGO 19 
 
 Pottawattamies. Her small hands clenched in nervous 
 anger. Her bosom heaved spasmodically. Savage 
 fire glittered in her large, dark eyes as she muttered 
 incoherently under her breath: 
 
 "The British dogs! Let them die, every one! 
 Tomorrow We-won-a-issa shall laugh when she hears 
 her lover groan. She shall gloat with the young 
 men over his scalp. The palefaces are driven back 
 into the sea ! When the Whip-poor-will sings again 
 there will be not one cur of them left!" 
 
 She entered the Pottawattamie village, gliding 
 surreptitiously toward her own teepee. She had 
 almost reached its shelter, when she crouched low 
 suddenly, motionless, huddled close against and 
 within the shadow of a bark wigwam. The tall, dark 
 figure of a man, close-muffled in a heavy blanket, 
 wandered in and out among the lodges, slowly 
 bearing nearer to where the Ojibwa maiden, fearful, 
 crouched within the wigwam's protective shadow. 
 She scarcely breathed lest her breathing be detected. 
 She dared not attempt to slip away lest she be 
 recognized although as yet she could not discern 
 the person of the prowler to the extent of recogni- 
 tion. 
 
 As he strolled about among the lodges, gradually
 
 20 ONAWAGO 
 
 he approached her. A strange glow came into his 
 deep-socketed eyes as he discovered her crouched 
 almost at his feet. He struck her a blow with his 
 moccasined foot, and reaching down, laid hold upon 
 the long strand of her hair. She glanced upward as 
 he stooped above her; then shrank closer still to 
 earth, recoiling and trembling like a frightened doe. 
 Agonizing dread grasped her heart. She was mind- 
 less of the physical pain he might inflict even though 
 this mighty one had jurisdiction to the power of death 
 among all the tribes and nations of the North. 
 Instead, she feared the awful curses of his wrath. 
 For in glancing upward, she had looked into the 
 dreaded eyes of the mighty Otter himself. 
 
 This fear tended to usurp her physical pain as he 
 raised her raised her at arms-length solely by means 
 of her braided hair raised her until she swung 
 suspended from the ground. A score of conflicting 
 emotions played upon his dark visage. His splendid 
 physique quivered with pent passion that for the 
 moment seemed ungovernable. She had disobeyed 
 his law. The penalty was death. Several times he 
 made as though to strike her, Then suddenly he 
 flung her from him flinging her with his powerful
 
 ONAWAGO 21 
 
 arm upon the ground at his feet where she lay 
 swooning in a shapeless huddle. 
 
 "The Voice-of-the-Night shall be no more," he 
 thundered in the Ottawa tongue. "Thus says the 
 Otter, and the Mighty Manitou himself trembles 
 when Pontiac speaks. The Voice-of-the-Night is 
 now no more. The song of the Whip-poor-will is 
 silenced forever; no more shall the Night-Voice 
 sing unto her tribe. No longer are you We-won-a- 
 issa, Voice-of-the-Night." 
 
 "You are now the Prowler-of-the-Dark. Your 
 song henceforth shall be but as the wailing of the 
 winds, the howling of wolves, the hooting of owls. 
 You shall speak with the squall of the panther and 
 the screech of the lynx; you shall skulk about among 
 them and they shall know you as one of themselves. 
 For you are now The-Prowler-of-the-Dark. Thus 
 speaks the Otter to the Great Manitou ON-A-WA- 
 GO, PROWLER-OF-THE-DARK." 
 
 Thenceforward, for nearly a century, misty, 
 indefinite rumors breathed of one with occult power. 
 From the different Indian nations occupying that 
 vast territory of the Great Lake region came these 
 
 NOTE: Proper pronunciation of this word^must be as follows: First 
 'o' sounded as 'o' in "odd"; first 'a' as 'a' in "away": second 'a' as 'a' in 
 "water"; and last 'o' as in "go." ON-A-WA-GO.
 
 22 ONAWAGO 
 
 wild and mysterious tales. They circulated from 
 tribe to tribe and were cited often and again to 
 European adventurers from time of earliest settle- 
 ment. Gradually these tales assumed the semblance 
 of legend fanciful as they were in their semi- 
 mythical guise until at length they became credited 
 as such by those who gave ear to their weird fantasies. 
 Yet, forsooth, they grew of goodly origin. Even 
 into the dusky confines of council lodges they gained 
 narration. Elderly sages and swarthy chieftains were 
 oftimes wont to relate them while the blue-grey 
 smoke-wraiths of the peace-pipe curled slowly upward 
 with fantastic languor through the shadowy gloom of 
 the council-wigwam. 
 
 On such occasion they would gather in grave 
 conclave, their austere attitudes and savage features 
 denoting reverential awe, while among them some 
 dignified member would solemnly arise and in 
 guttural monotone give elaborate account of some 
 recently performed "Big-Medicine" of one 
 ONAWAGO the great woman witch-doctor of the 
 Pottawattamies.
 
 BOOK I 
 
 THE TOTEM OF THE EYE
 
 ONAWAGO 25 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE MORNING OF THE POTTAWATOMJE 
 EXPULSION. 
 
 'T^HE absolute darkness which heralds approaching 
 -- dawn was becoming diffused with a slight pallor 
 on a morning in early October, 1838, rendering ob- 
 jects discernable in the semi-darkness, when a birch 
 canoe shot across the river in the small harbor of St. 
 Joseph on Lake Michigan, and landed on the sharp 
 angle of the sandy beach where the river joined its 
 flow with the waters of the lake, opposite the town that 
 quietly reposed on the southern side of the river's 
 mouth. In the stern reposed a middle-aged Potta- 
 wattamie Indian, while a younger man, crouched 
 farther forward, forthwith proceeded to disembark. 
 "So, Moccasin, you're bound an' determined to 
 not go! Well, thet's jest the way wit' you Injuns. 
 But mind ye, red-skin, 'tis your chance of a life-time. 
 For seldom does a man like me ask one o' yer 
 people an' 'specially one he knows but through 
 hear-say, to keep him company fer a winter! But
 
 26 ONAWAGO 
 
 even so, y'll find me with open hand should y' 
 change yer mind." 
 
 "Good !" ejaculated the Pottawattamie; and 
 swinging his canoe suddenly about by a gentle twist 
 of his short paddle, he darted back across the river 
 and was soon swallowed up in the still prevalent 
 gloom and the mists that rose off the water. 
 
 Bundy stood in grave attitude and watched the 
 form of the Indian slowly fade within the river fog. 
 " Fine Injun thet, fer an Injun," he muttered as he 
 turned away. His course lay northward, up the 
 lake, and as he walked along, he kept close to the 
 gentle swash of the water, for there the sand was 
 compact as a beaten path, 
 
 "A body o' sojers arrived yester' evenin' and I'd 
 like to know their mission. Wonder if they have 
 hired the red-skin fer a guide. An Injun allers keeps 
 his mouth shet 'n' 'specially when he reckons a 
 feller's a mite curious." 
 
 An hour went by and the day broke clear and 
 calm. Another hour elapsed and yet another; 
 still Bundy plodded doggedly on, sweltering under 
 the weight of his impedimenta and the scorch of the 
 October sun. Another hour elapsed, and still the 
 redoubtable Bundy plodded resolutely onward with-
 
 ONAWAGO 27 
 
 out a halt. By this time he had covered no mean 
 number of his many mile journey. But it was now 
 that he suddenly started because of a grating upon 
 the sand behind him. Apprehensively he wheeled 
 about, grasping his rifle to "ready;" but simply 
 confronted the complaisant Moccasin crouched in 
 the stern of his canoe. 
 
 "Coin' too," declared the Indian in so gruff a 
 guttural that it conveyed the impression of a grunt. 
 "Gottum heep good place t' live trap fish hunt, 
 Mebbe farm leetle too." 
 
 "How now!" protested Bundy, "just these here 
 few hours back ye denounced my place no good!" 
 
 "Listen," and the Indian's voice was lower and 
 softer than usual. "Me not go with you. You go 
 with me now, dis time. Beaver otter bear heep 
 good place; lots trap, fish, hunt." 
 
 The loquacious Bundy again started to object, but 
 the Indian, preferring to let circumstances be exposi- 
 tor, impatiently motioned him into the canoe. Yet 
 through these simple abbreviations Bundy deciphered 
 considerable. In the first place the Indian had for 
 some reason changed his mind within the last few 
 hours and was now desirous of Bundy's company 
 during a winter's trapping. Bundy believed that the
 
 28 ONAWAGO 
 
 territory in question must be one with which he was 
 altogether unacquainted, even through fellow trap- 
 pers. 
 
 So, complying with the Indian's command, Bundy 
 deposited his accouterments in the bow of the canoe, 
 and shoving the light craft from shore, sprang in, 
 himself. Assuming a position in the center and 
 availing himself of a spare paddle the Indian had 
 provided for the occasion, he lent himself to the 
 paddling and with his aid the bark canoe seemed to 
 strain in every fibre as it glided across the water. 
 
 Only a faint breath of air flitted over the lake, 
 fanning little riffles in the otherwise glassy sheen that 
 lay broken only by a long, low swell, the last visible 
 trace of a recent storm, that slowly lifted and fell upon 
 the bosom of the Great Lake. Now and then a 
 scolding flock of gulls, startled from their rest upon 
 the water, arose with harsh clamor and retreated 
 farther seaward. Occasionally the discordant and 
 shrill cry of a solitary bird, hovering over the water, 
 interrupted the morning quietude; while the inarticu- 
 late swish of the paddle and the rhythmic gurgle of 
 water at the bow of the canoe, were the only other 
 sounds that came to their ears. Naught else broke 
 the monotony of the morning simply the sun-lit
 
 ONAWAGO 29 
 
 sweep of shining sea, the long, white line of gleam- 
 ing strand and a long reach of the high clay bluffs 
 frowning austerely down upon them. At intervals 
 they spoke, but their conversing was, as a rule, some 
 short-cut sentence. The morning passed and not a 
 human being did they see, nor a woodland denizen; 
 naught of life besides themselves and the innumerable 
 hoards of sea birds and water-fowl. 
 
 The noon-day sun was blazing when Bundy, con- 
 sulting his shadow which fell directly in his front, 
 addressed his companion: 
 
 "Well, Moccasin, my inner promptings insist that 
 we push to shore and fall to in due form upon the all- 
 sustaining. See, 'tis now mid-day, and long before 
 the sun I had but a reasonable fill. 'Tis a buck- 
 noble as ever shed antler here in my pack, that 
 furnishes us with a piece of his carcass on which to 
 pacify ourselves." 
 
 The Indian remained verbally silent, but instantly 
 the canoe swung landward. At the same time Bundy 
 heard an exclamation of surprise uttered by his com- 
 rade; and, directing his eye to the quarter prescribed 
 by Moccasin's dictating finger, descried a minute 
 dark spot far to southward, close out from shore.
 
 30 ONAWAGO 
 
 For quite a minute, both riveted their attention upon 
 it; yet neither spoke. 
 
 Seldom is the atmosphere of southern Lake Mich- 
 igan perfectly clear. A haze usually hangs there, 
 blurring the distinctiveness of horizon and deceiving 
 the eye as to actual discernment of distance, illusively 
 placing an object farther away. Thus now that afar 
 off the southward shore seemed miles further away 
 than in reality. Yet even so, 'twas certainly a craft 
 of some description. 
 
 It was after they had landed and were seated cross- 
 legged upon the stainless, warm, sun-beaten sand of 
 the beach, while each was applying himself dexter- 
 ously to the appeasing of that appetite characteristic of 
 the woodsman, that suddenly and unexpectedly the 
 Indian spoke in his customary reserved tone, though 
 resorting to the native tongue of the Great Algonquin 
 nation as more emphatic and expressive than was 
 English in his command, and which Bundy readily 
 understood sufficiently to reply herewith. 
 
 "Many winter's snows have come and melted 
 away since my people last dug up the hatchet against 
 the palefaces. Many lives will come and pass away 
 and my people will still smoke the calumet in their 
 council-lodges with their enemies. They fear to turn
 
 ONAWAGO 31 
 
 the palm away. They no longer are warrior-braves; 
 they are cowardly curs. My tribe is broken like wind- 
 fallen oak; the members are scattered as leaves. The 
 same moon shines in the heavens that shall look upon 
 them wandering in hunting-grounds far past the Great 
 Flowing Water. My people go, but Shakwaukakuk 
 stays. The Great White Father in Detroit says: 
 "Go!" They fear him and obey. But the son of 
 Topinabe stays." 
 
 "Then did I actually understand you to mean 
 that Governor Mason at last has ordered your tribe's 
 banishment after holding off so long?" asked Bundy 
 in the same tongue. 
 
 "The Moon of Falling Leaves will not sleep 
 before the Great White Father's will shall have been 
 done. His pale-face warriors drive my people in a 
 drove like sheep to unknown hunting grounds in the 
 Land of the Setting Sun. But Shakwaukakuk stays 
 alone. He will not turn his face to a land he does 
 not know. Rather will he live like.a hiding bear in 
 the woods he loves. Rather will a son of the Great 
 Warrior Chief Topinabe die than be disgraced and a 
 coward." 
 
 "Ah, then, that was why you changed your mind 
 this morning; that was the mission of the soldiers.
 
 32 ONAWAGO 
 
 Mayhap in yonder canoe is more of your people who, 
 like you, will not be driven from the lands they love. 
 If I do say it, Moccasin, your people are a scoundrelly 
 set, blackguards and vagabonds, almost every one of 
 them. If there were more of them like you, 'twould 
 be far better." 
 
 "But the white man is a thief," exclaimed the 
 Pottawattamie with sudden vehemence. "Why does 
 he want the earth?" 
 
 Bundy laughed and evaded reply by expressing a 
 desire to be journeying onward, now that the meal 
 was ended. But the Indian replied by waving an arm 
 in the direction of the on-coming craft, and shaking 
 his head in the negative. 
 
 "Mebbe know 'urn, wait. Mebbe Pottawattamies. 
 Mebbe not. Wait 'n' see 'urn." 
 
 The habit of making the acquaintance of any fellow 
 way-farer is a practice and could almost be termed 
 second nature of the hunter and the frontiersman. 
 Therefore Bundy needed no further solicitation in 
 submitting to the Indian's desire and gladly availed 
 himself of the opportunity to rest his fatigued body 
 after the labors of the morning. 
 
 So following Moccasin's example, he threw him- 
 self prostrate upon the sand and before the lapse of
 
 ONAWAGO 33 
 
 many minutes, profound slumber had overcome them 
 both. 
 
 Whatever it may have been whether caused by 
 the barely perceptible swish of the paddle, the gentle 
 gurgle of water at the bow, or more probably rendered 
 by that inevitable discomfiture a sharp and searching 
 scrutiny brings upon anyone, Bundy aroused himself 
 even as the unknown craft drew within intelligible 
 hailing distance. For some time Bundy reclined 
 upon an elbow critcially surveying it as it slowly ap- 
 proached. 
 
 There was nothing singularly striking in the 
 general aspect of the craft. The craft itself was of 
 birch bark, modelled and in dimensions similar to 
 that of Moccasin's manufacture. Two French-Indian 
 half breeds the type commonly known as the voy- 
 ageur, that most widely met with traveler of that date 
 in the wild territory of the great Northwest were 
 its sole occupants. And there was nothing, forsooth 
 about them to provoke comment; and yet as Bundy 
 reclined' there, studying the boat with the pene- 
 trating and experienced eye of the pioneer, an inde- 
 finable something impressed him as being suggestive 
 throughout it, even before it had drawn sufficiently
 
 34 GNAW AGO 
 
 close to allow him to note its one extraordinary 
 feature. 
 
 Lying directly amidships and filling the space 
 between the gunwhale and the waterline, gleamed a 
 great human eye. The pupil and iris were jet black, 
 the ball heavily blood-shot. Glaring steadfastly for- 
 ward, its effect was terrible, appalling in its virulent, 
 life-like gleam. 
 
 "A particularly queersome looking outfit, I should 
 jedge," at length Bundy muttered. Then aloud: 
 "Wake up there, red-skin, an' take a look at our 
 visitors hereaway." 
 
 "At Bundy's words, both breeds started appre- 
 hensively, the one forward, instantly signaling for 
 silence. He cautiously laid aside his paddle, placed 
 one finger to his lips, shook his head in the negative 
 and pointed with the other hand at what resembled 
 a large heap of luggage in the bow over which had 
 been thrown a black cloth. 
 
 Bundy beheld these maneuvers with astonishment, 
 and as thenceforward the breeds evinced a desire to 
 pass unquestioned and in silence, Bundy respected 
 their reticence and held his tongue. 
 
 The canoe continued on its way. It crossed 
 Bundy's front and doubtless would have proceeded
 
 ONAWAGO 35 
 
 with no further light upon the mystery that lurked 
 behind the enigmatical behavior on the part of its 
 inmates, had not suddenly the cloth stirred from some 
 movement underneath. Then slowly a long, scrawny 
 arm appeared, naked to the shoulder, pointing di- 
 rectly upward. The naked member seemed woven 
 in the web of cloth like some uncouth magical en- 
 chantment. 
 
 But it was for a moment only. Suddenly from 
 beneath the cloth broke forth the wail of an infant; 
 the apparition arm instantly vanished and the canoe 
 continued its course up the lake.
 
 36 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE MIAMA 
 GHOSTS. 
 
 Stretching for miles along the coast of Lake Mich- 
 igan, huge mounds of wind-blown sand stand forth 
 along the shore like languidly arranged battalions of 
 a giant army, column after column and troop after 
 troop. Gazing intently across the mighty breadth of 
 listless waters that lap incessantly at their bases, they 
 stand with uncovered heads and expressionless faces 
 like mute watchers stationed by nature to guard her 
 silent places. 
 
 Chain after chain they rise for miles low off the 
 level country which stretches away eastward from 
 their barren slopes. Lakewards they rise in gradual 
 acclivities. Landwards they fall in precipitous slides. 
 Their sand is ever shifting. Vegetation cannot for 
 long endure. Scarce a shrub breaks the monotony 
 and austere desolation of their slopes, and they 
 few that they are cluster together in seeming sym-
 
 ONAWAGO 37 
 
 pathy, thrusting their tendrils far earthwards merely 
 to sustain the few shriveled leaves that cling to their 
 branches. 
 
 Scattered sparsely along their summits, stunted 
 pine or scraggy oaks strive almost in vain for exist- 
 ence, rearing their macerated arms toward heaven, 
 beseeching greater livelihood for their famined 
 trunks while here and there amongst them, bleached 
 and bare, stands silent in grim appeal, some long 
 perished brother, vanquished by the tireless struggle 
 for existence. 
 
 Deep, narrow valleys interwind among the hills, 
 filled to a density with tangled undergrowth under- 
 growth that is nigh impassable offering a striking 
 contrast to the desolate hillsides above them. Ivy- 
 growth predominates there. Enormous woodbines, 
 grape, poison ivies and various briar species writhe 
 and twist themselves into impenetrable masses in- 
 vulnerable tyrants of aught their long arms may 
 reach and, fastening themselves upon the brush- 
 growth or swinging into the dwarfed timber, slowly 
 usurp their victims' scant vitality, rearing their heads 
 high in air in defiant attitudes to their struggling 
 hosts. 
 
 In all, 'tis well an arid waste, a region of absolute
 
 38 ONAWAGO 
 
 desolation, almost destitution worthless, fruitless, 
 mile after mile of sand, endless unfathomable sand. 
 
 The somber shades of decending twilight were 
 glancing athwart the hills as Bundy and the Potta- 
 watamie that evening stood upon the lofty crest of 
 the highest eminence of such a region. It was a 
 gigantic dune. Its bald head reared high above the 
 now darkened forest that, far beneath them, limitless 
 stretched away landward. Its height commanded a 
 panoramic view out over the surrounding country 
 and a spectacular lookout upon the grand old lake 
 beneath that rolled to the west, a broad sheet of 
 limpid water, stretching far past the black horizon 
 line, behind which now the sun had sunk. To the 
 north and away to the south extended the seemingly 
 endless chains of smaller dunes, one rising beyond 
 the other, sinister in their monotonous contour of 
 undulation. 
 
 "Not knowin' as t' you, but to me now, Moccasin, 
 these wastes kinder make me feel uneasy in my 
 narves. Can't say as how I'm likin' t' hang about in 
 their company longer'n I jest have to, and I'd like 
 right well to know where you set yer foot fer this 
 morning an' why ye climbed me up this sand, sink-
 
 ONAWAGO 39 
 
 ing at every step to my ankles, just to view that 
 worthless waste." 
 
 "Look!" 
 
 The Indian bent slightly forward bringing his 
 finger to bear in a line indicating a north-easterly 
 direction, where Bundy saw a mile or so away, two 
 little lakes gleaming like silver among the tree-tops. 
 
 "Dat um place," explained the Indian. "Heep 
 good place for live, fish, trap, hunt mebbe farm too 
 some. Creek gotum beaver." 
 
 "So that's the place, is it? Well, I'm right glad t' 
 know it. But I'm seein' nary creek. Where is there 
 a creek?" 
 
 Without a word the Indian knelt upon the sand 
 at his feet and immediately sketched with a forefinger 
 the outline of the two lakes. Commencing at the 
 northern extremity of either, he drew two lines repre- 
 senting their outlets. Soon connecting these, he 
 followed their junction to where it emptied into the 
 Great Lake. Indicating a particular point in the 
 stream's course, the red-skin uttered once more the 
 word "beaver" and arose to his feet. 
 
 But continuing, he pointed out over the leafy 
 surface of the forest and followed in gesture the wind- 
 ings of the creek in likeness of the sand sketch at his
 
 40 ONAWAGO 
 
 feet. And in the vast sea of leaves, a slight declina- 
 tion indeed was traceable in a serpentine route 
 through the forest, substantiating its course in the 
 direction of the mountain of sand. But at the tim- 
 ber's edge it terminated, no suggestion perceivable 
 of its further flow. Moccasin vouched its course 
 through the valley a deep long gulley that hugged 
 the foot of the sand mountain. 
 
 "But hark ye, red-skin, ye tell me it flows here 
 below us? Not one glint of water can I see. I like 
 not t' think of yer trifling wi' my creditin's. Stands 
 not to reason a creek's likely below us here here in 
 this big gulley, an' we not able t' see a sign o' it. 
 'Neath the vegetation ye say? Not likely. Yet to a 
 sartinty 'tis dense down there and dark now, an' I 
 recollect now o' seein' the water sinking int' the 
 beach but little can I believe 'twas from a creek an' 
 itself not t' be seen. But maybe so maybe so fer 
 strange and extraordinary happenin's like this occur 
 in the wilderness arid this looks the place well suited 
 fer sichlike." 
 
 Even as he spoke, the sunlight seemed suddenly 
 to pale and the western heavens glowed more fierce- 
 ly with fire; the lake lay a metallic expanse of silver 
 and bronze interwoven. The barrier hills rose
 
 ONAWAGO 41 
 
 sullen and dark upon the landscape, outlined in inky 
 blackness against the fiery background of the western 
 sky. Interminably eastward stretched the forest, now 
 a leafy canopy of gloom with solely the two lumin- 
 ous lakes shining from the darkness like the faces 
 of mirrors. 
 
 "I vow 'tis a goodsome sweep one gets from here. 
 A higher dune I never saw an* I've gone the lakes 
 from end to end. Now I reckon if those two shinin' 
 bodies were the eyes of a painter, I'd take me off 
 there away. But seein' as how they're your two 
 lakes, Moccasin, 'tis sartin 'twill be far better to camp 
 here the night an' start bright and early with the 
 canoe up the creek. This gulch down 'longside us is 
 as likely a place as we'll find to pass a good night's 
 rest in; an' if only we had'n't disposed of all that 
 buck, we well might enjoy a meal worthy to set 
 before Her Majesty, the newly- crowned British 
 Queen, who, as I lately learn, just took the throne 
 this here last June." 
 
 As Bundy cited the culminating words, he chanced 
 to glance for the first time at his silent partner and 
 started with surprise upon beholding the Potta- 
 wattamie. 
 
 The Indian was poised slightly forward. His
 
 42 ONAWAGO 
 
 magnificent figure was drawn to its full height, and 
 the forefinger of his right hand was placed upon his 
 lips, a signal for silence; his left arm was raised and 
 directed forward and downward into the deep gully 
 Bundy had suggested as being convenient in which 
 to spend the night. The fading lumination of the 
 after-glow gave a golden russet to his naturally swarthy 
 countenance: his eye gleamed and spoke the super- 
 stitious awe evinced upon his face. 
 
 "Ugh! No go urn there. Listen." 
 
 Bundy listened attentively for some moments. 
 Then he casually remarked: 
 
 "I'm hearing nothin' more'n a few leaves rustlin', 
 Moccasin." 
 
 "Shut up, I tell you! Keep still! Listen!" 
 
 For several minutes for a tedious while on 
 Bundy's part both men listened with profound assi- 
 duity. And while they listed, the dusk slowly became 
 darkness. The fire of the west almost completely 
 died away: the face of the Great Lake became a plain 
 of bronze green. The forest behind them reposed 
 somber and silent. The neighboring sand hills 
 loomed spectre-like and colossal through the half- 
 light with their hollows bathed in deepest oblivion. 
 
 Not a sound broke the stillness. Bundy was close
 
 ONAWAGO 43 
 
 upon venturing again to break the irksome silence, 
 when slowly, faintly from out the darkness of the 
 gulch beside the giant hill, a low moan stole upon 
 the still night air. Beginning, it was low and barely 
 audible; then gradually it swelled to a long, piercing 
 wail; then slowly it sank to a gasping sob and died 
 away. 
 
 After a period of uninterrupted quiet a quiet so 
 tense that not a leaf volunteered its rustle toward 
 breaking the spell once again the agonized groan 
 arose, creeping out upon the still night air from 
 the dismal recesses of the gully in the same long- 
 drawn wail of distress as before. Increasing in volume 
 it attained its former height of tone, but instead of 
 abating, assumed a measure high and shrill, ascend- 
 ing to a demoniacal shreik, weird and wayward. 
 For a moment it held this pitch, then slowly gave 
 way to a sort of jerking gasp that suddenly ended in 
 a wild and hysterical laugh. 
 
 "What is it, Moccasin? What can this thing be?" 
 The red-skin was gazing upon the face of the 
 white man with an expression denoting a com- 
 mingling of mirth, curiosity and superstitious awe, as 
 dropping his voice to a low whisper, he answered in 
 his native tongue:
 
 44 ONAWAGO 
 
 "The ghost of the warrior flogs the spirit of his 
 squaw. She begs for mercy and he laughs. Listen." 
 
 Again arose the moans. As the wail grew to a 
 shriek and fell in turn to the exultant laugh, an icy 
 shudder played throughout the mystified Bundy. He 
 stood nigh aghast. Twice already within the past 
 several hours had occurred an unaccountable mani- 
 festation of the supernatural. Being naturally of a 
 religious and superstitious temperament, the incident 
 of the apparition-like arm in the canoe, coupled with 
 this present incentive, thwarted his every struggle to 
 remain calm in spite of his rapidly increasing fear. 
 
 "Moccasin, have you ever heard this thing before? 
 If any explanation is possible for such horrifying 
 sounds. I would like to know it." 
 
 Bundy had addressed his companion in the Indian 
 tongue, and the latter, replying, spoke likewise in his 
 native language: 
 
 "A Miama once beat his squaw to death a 
 Miama warrior but no brave. He was a cur of a dog 
 and a young chief of the Pottawattamies spits upon 
 him so!" 
 
 1 Twas here she died, here in this long, deep 
 hole between the hills. The good spirit was angered, 
 so here they were caused to stay. He flogs her with a
 
 ONAWAGO 45 
 
 whip of twisted bark that lasts forever. She whim- 
 perssobs begs for mercy. He dares not grant it 
 and he laughs." 
 
 Thus Bundy heard for the first time the legend of 
 the Miama Ghosts of Indian Hollow.
 
 46 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE CRY. 
 
 jrpWAS one of the opening nights of November. 
 -^ The dark of the moon was on, but the sky was 
 cloudless and the stars blinked coldly through the 
 frosty air. A thin, white mist arose slowly from 
 off the water and drifted away into the encompassing 
 forest as the cold settled. The small lake lay without 
 a blemish to its glossy surface nor a glimmer of light, 
 save the greenish reflection of the stars and an occa- 
 sional few stray beams that flashed from a small camp- 
 fire on the southern shore. And as these beams 
 strayed out over the oily-smooth waters, a solitary 
 loon, sailing composedly about, jeered disdainfully 
 with his demoniacal laugh at their incursion on his 
 domain. 
 
 The encompassing forest was of that type known 
 in common as "oak openings." It's gloomy gran- 
 deur now lay wrapped in absolute quietude, and only 
 the flickering rays of the campfire flashed a circle of 
 pale lumination down its vistas and upward into the
 
 ONAWAGO 47 
 
 frost-bronzed foliage that still adorned the trees. 
 The fire burned in a small cleared space beside a log 
 lodge, flooding this small space and the exposed side 
 of the lodge with light. 
 
 No one moved about the place and a weird mel- 
 ancholy hovered about the lonely scene. 
 
 Hauled on land at the water's edge lay the 
 birch canoe. The fire-light glanced upon its tawny 
 yellow and black-patched sides. Just over the canoe 
 suspended from an oaken bough, hung the carcass of 
 a deer. Three dead beavers, unskinned, lay at the 
 base of an over-spreading oak. Upon the sides of 
 the shack was spread the pelt of a Canada lynx, while 
 a brace of headless grouse, together with wild geese, 
 were thrown near the door. 
 
 The fire burned low, unreplenished, until at 
 length even a sputtering flame that had persistently 
 clung to a resinous knot, suddenly vanished, and the 
 ruddy glare of the coals shone like the eyes of a wild 
 cat in the deep obscurity. 
 
 Suddenly and noiselessly from out the darkness 
 glided the stalwart form of the Indian. Closely fol- 
 lowing, Bundy threw an arm-load of firewood upon 
 the smoldering embers, then seated himself cross-
 
 48 ONAWAGO 
 
 legged upon the ground. A long silence ensued, first 
 broken by the latter. 
 
 "Moccasin, it seems strange; it is strange! The 
 cry o' thet painter aint jist natural to me. 'Tain't 
 no-wise the first time thet I have hearn 'em call in 
 the night time upon their gods like a heathen upon 
 his idols, er a bawlin' woman weepin' fer her dead. 
 An' this critter, I say, red-skin, don't bawl RIGHT! 
 'Tis strange, I say, Moccasin; 'tis onnatural and 
 mighty strange." 
 
 "Does my brother think the Miama Squaw comes 
 a mile to worry him with her whimperings?" replied 
 the Indian in his native tongue. 
 
 'Tm venturin' neither a yea ner nay. All I'm 
 sayin' is thet strange an onnatural things ha' been 
 happenin' since we left Joe town strange on the way 
 an* strange since we're here. Well ye know that 
 this wily catamount is leaving marks tracks they sure 
 ain't thet yeyerself ain't accountin' fer. Ner can ye 
 yerself f oiler 'em. Look at 'em as what we found 
 over 'cross the lake this very morning what could 
 ye make 'o them now. I'd like to know. Nettin' 
 of a wicker basket! Where's thar a critter o' the 
 woods wi' sich a foot?" 
 
 He was answered by the wild and quavering laugh
 
 ONAWAGO 49 
 
 of the loon. Far down through the woods a lonely 
 owl dolefully hooted; and afar in the distance, the 
 woeful howling of a leader-wolf bore upon the night. 
 Both the men for a long while remained silent. 
 
 Bundy had been intent upon his words. This 
 was alone obvious by an involuntary and suspicious 
 glance he continually cast into the shadowy darkness 
 about him where the forms of the tree-trunks were 
 dancing from the firelight. The firelight was re- 
 flected full upon his weather-beaten countenance, 
 heightening the ruggedness of his features and betray- 
 ing a palsied twitching at the eye-brows. His flint- 
 lock reclined across his knees and his fingers nerv- 
 ously sought and fumbled the lock; while he ever and 
 anon reassured himself, apprehensively, as to the 
 state of the flint and priming. In fine, his entire 
 demeanor was that of a man expectant of momentary 
 action. 
 
 But on the contrary, the conduct of the Indian 
 was of petrified intensity. He was seated on a short 
 log a number of yards back from the fire, whose 
 strong glare threw his whole person into view. The 
 fire flashed full upon his tawny countenance, height- 
 ening his habitual exprestion of vigilance and sagacity 
 to one of savage and wild ferocity. His dark eye,
 
 50 ONAWAGO 
 
 usually glancing and restless, was now riveted upon 
 the fire before him. His attitude was one of im- 
 pressive dignity. His magnificent figure was drawn 
 into that state of inflexibility exhibited when a startled 
 animal strains its every sense to distinguish the 
 slightest sound perceptible. His ears distened in 
 their eagerness, all his mental and physical powers 
 seemed enlisted to detect the feeblest vibration that 
 might arise from out the stillness and blackness of the 
 forest. 
 
 Bundy again started to speak when slowly and 
 cautiously the hand of the Indian, raised in dissent, 
 invoking silence but his eyes retained their pinioned 
 stare into the fire. 
 
 The warning was needless. For suddenly from 
 the depths of the forest, a loud, piercing cry 
 startled the silence, penetrating for miles down 
 through the broken quiet of the night and reverberat- 
 ing in long undulating waves of uncouth sound for 
 several seconds ere it finally died away into the 
 forest across the lake. 
 
 Expressive terror overswept the white man's face, 
 while that of the Indian's betrayed total dissolution of 
 self-control. With the sounding of the cry, he 
 sprang to his feet, standing with superstitious dread
 
 GNAW AGO 51 
 
 painted upon his swarthy visage until the last linger- 
 ing cadences ceased to throb in the distant, resound- 
 ing fastnesses. Then he knelt, placing his ear close 
 to the earth. For some moments he listened intently; 
 then with face expressing the utter futility of his inge- 
 nuity, he resumed his seat. 
 
 A tense silence succeeded, during which each 
 gazed into the wild eyes of the other in dreaded ex- 
 pectancy of the cry being repeated. But the forest 
 remained in a dumber, more awe-stricken silence 
 than before, as though all forces of the earth's mighty 
 organism had suddenly ceased to throb. 
 
 "Thet's no painter, I tell ye, Moccasin; thet's no 
 painter! If ye can name sich a cry, do so, but fer 
 myself, I think it not of arth! Satan himself could 
 not clamor more like a fiend; an' if 'taint him then 
 sartin it is thet it's some infernal machine o' his'n fer 
 bringin' evil unt' us." 
 
 "Does the Evil Spirit of the pale-face come to 
 earth to whoop a frightful war-cry in the hours of the 
 darkness?" returned the deep guttural of the Potta- 
 wattamie in his native tongue. "The Wicked Spirit 
 of the red-skin lets his voice sleep forever." 
 
 "Whether those noises jist heard, red-skin, war 
 uttered by the devil whom ye call the Wicked Spirit,
 
 52 ONAWAGO 
 
 er whether the outcry o' hell itself, I cannot say; but 
 I tell ye once an* fer all, that 'tis gi'n as no good 
 omen, an' the sooner we quit these parts, t' my 
 thinkin', the better off we'll be. Tomorrow's sun 
 will, afore it sets, find my face turned." 
 
 He was interrupted by the cry. Again it arose, 
 hounding down the silence loud and piercing as 
 before and accompanied afterward by the same 
 unnaturally overwrought quiescence as had pre- 
 viously predominated. 
 
 Then as both men listened, sickly over-awed, sud- 
 denly the forest shook with the sharp crack of a rifle. 
 Casting a wild, tiger-like glare about him fierce as 
 that of the caged beast itself the Indian slowly arose, 
 turned, and without a word, his lithe figure disap- 
 peared within encircling blackness of the night. 
 
 Out on the lake the loon raised his wild and hys- 
 terical laughter. Away down through the woods 
 sounded the doleful mourning of the owl; and far 
 away away in the distance until it came as barely 
 audible the chase-cry of the pack floated across the 
 forest fastness.
 
 ONAWAGO 53 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 THE FINDING 
 
 A LONE, and so unexpectedly alone, Bundy sat 
 -**- as in a trance, scarce daring even to think. 
 What could be the interpretation of the rifle-shot? 
 Could it be there were others beside himself and his 
 fellow trapper in this unbroken wilderness? Or was 
 this latter interposition an operation of that selfsame 
 agency that had conducted those former proceedings? 
 
 Even as he sat thus conjecturing, he started anew. 
 Faintly from across the lake was born the peevish 
 whimper of a small child a whimper that Bundy 
 shuddered to remember he had heard coupled with 
 an incident several weeks before. 
 
 Risk if any there should be Bundy knew lay in 
 remaining within the radiance of the fire. He there- 
 upon immediately went to the canoe, lifted it to the 
 water, stepped gingerly into it, and eased it gently 
 from shore. Then crouched low in the stern, he let 
 it float gradually out into the quiet waters. 
 
 Slowly the canoe drifted out into the open lake.
 
 54 ONAWAGO 
 
 Black and tall the gloom-wrapped forest loomed 
 sinister in grim appeal against the stars, encircling 
 with its wall-like barrier the two score acres of watery 
 space. The air was chill, almost frosty, and the 
 ghostly vapors hovered low over the surface of the 
 waters. Qverhead through the clear, ethereal trans- 
 parency, the stars blinked coldly, shedding a steely, 
 almost green lustre down upon the silent lake, ren- 
 dering a narrow breadth of light-green light to stand 
 away to shore in whichever direction Bundy chanced 
 to peer. 
 
 The same unperturbed solitude prevailed, and 
 since the wailing of the child not even the twitter of 
 a sleeping bird had been lifted in the tensity. 
 
 For a long time the canoe drifted slowly outward 
 from shore; then rested immovably upon the face of 
 the oily-smooth waters, while Bundy sat with keen 
 senses riveted on the northern shore. For from there 
 had sounded both the shot, the wail and the last cry. 
 
 Suddenly a series of metallic strikes sounded nois- 
 ily upon the deathly stillness also from the northern 
 shore. Then presently a glint of feeble light gleamed 
 through the tree-trunks and almost simultaneously a 
 stern masculine voice challenged: "Who goes! 
 Halt, I say, or I'll fire, and I'll "
 
 ONAWAGO 55 
 
 "Friend," came in answer to the deep guttural of 
 Moccasin. 
 
 Gradually the light strengthened and Bundy, 
 through the intervening tree trunks, could descry in 
 silhouette the forms of two men, one, Moccasin, bent 
 above and examining something that lay upon the 
 ground and strong within the fire light; the other a 
 man clad in civilian's clothes and at that moment in 
 particular, engaged in raming a charge into his 
 muzzle-loader. 
 
 "See here," then added the voice. 
 
 "Ugh!" ejaculated the Pottawatamie. 
 
 "And a white child at that! Very strange, seems 
 to me very strange. I know you 'cause I saw you 
 over 'cross there at your fire; and I was standing right 
 here in this spot looking across at you and wondering 
 if I had best call you, when all to once the infernal 
 screech bellered right in my ears. Then something 
 moved in the dark over there where you are now 
 a something that looked neither human nor animal 
 and was jumping about nimbler than a frolicking 
 fawn. On all fours first it seemed. Then when I 
 fired, it straightened onto its hinders and vanished 
 like a spirit. And that there is what I find. It's
 
 56 ON AW AGO * 
 
 beyond me; but I'm going to stop thinking about it 
 for it's sure getting on my nerves." 
 
 Bundy, meanwhile, had propelled his light craft 
 noiselessly across the small expanse of the lake and 
 by now was near as the depth of the water would 
 allow. Stepping onto shore and drawing the canoe 
 partially thereupon behind him, he strode over to 
 the new-comer and genially offered a hand. 
 
 "How comes it that we have a caller to our parts," 
 he said. 
 
 "Content yourselves as to my being no encroacher 
 upon your stakings. I'm merely prospecting, looking 
 about for a piece of suitable land to take up to 
 homestead, you understand." 
 
 "Tonight I was encamped a mile or so east of 
 here. These infernal screechings wouldn't let me 
 sleep. Thought it might be somebody in distress and 
 somehow or other I strayed over here, and here I 
 am, just as you see me a well meaning man hop- 
 ing to make your better acquaintance. My name's 
 Tom Arnold no more nor less." 
 
 "An' mine's Dave Bundy, stranger, simple Dave 
 Bundy, an' as ye e'en now put it, no more nor less. 
 This here fellow is my pardner, the only decent, 
 honest Pottawattamie o' the whole business. His
 
 ONAWAGO 57 
 
 name's Shakwaukskuk, meaning in civilized talk, 
 "The Open Ear," an' well suitin' too, fer ne'er was 
 a more sarvisable pair possessed by buck or owl. He 
 goes ginrally by the name of Moccasin, got from 
 dealin' in their trade that is, makin' 'em fer sellin'. 
 I'm right glad t' make yer acquaintance, stranger, an' 
 wish ye a hearty good-morrow, hopin' ye'll see fit t' 
 favor us wi' yer company at our shack, uninvitin' as 
 it is, but as ye know, woodmen hadn't oughter expect 
 much accommodation in the way o' conveniences. 
 But here, le^t's a peep at the child." 
 
 So saying, Bundy knelt beside a blanketed babe, 
 embedded on the cushion-like leafy carpet. Even- 
 tually it proved a male child, about a year old. It 
 was crowing and smiling and reaching out toward 
 the fire with round, plump arms, perfectly at home 
 with its new-found guardians. It was flaxen-haired 
 and its eyes were large and bluish gray, and its im- 
 maculate cleanliness proved it had been tendered ex- 
 cellent treatment at the hands of that mysterious one 
 in whose keeping it had been. 
 
 "But, men, what shall we do with him now he's 
 ourn?"
 
 58 ONAWAGO 
 
 "I'm considering that fact myself, sir," replied 
 Arnold. 
 
 "Seeing I'm finder, I straightway take it upon 
 myself to be keeper. I'm married with no children. 
 I'll furnish him a home, poor as it may be and rear 
 him as my own, though Heaven alone knows the 
 the penalty or reward in store for me. But my con- 
 science tells me that my duty lies with him, now that 
 fate has cast him in my path and so be it." 
 
 ,,Spoken well, friend; spoken well! But I can't 
 see as how we'll prevent him gettin' almighty hungry 
 afore we can reach a settlement. St. Joe's nearest, an' 
 thet's a whole]day's hard paddlin' 'thout stoppin'. 
 But I reckon he'll hardly clean starve in thet time." 
 
 "My home's in New York City and this evening 
 while making camp, I decided this very piece of 
 "opening" promised favorable for breaking in 
 more favorable than any place I'd found yet and 
 to these parts I determined to come. So I'll just 
 carry it out. At St. Joe I'll take a boat to Detroit, 
 thence on through Erie, down the Big Ditch and 
 so." 
 
 "Well, well, man!" interrupted the loquacious 
 Bundy, "well, man, an' ye'll 'low me t' put in a word 
 an' myself wi' it, why, right well'd I like to go
 
 ONAWAGO 59 
 
 along! My oP home's i' York State, too. I'll jist 
 sell my share o' the furs an* go wi' you, an' fer the 
 first time in six, spend a winter amongst civilization. 
 But some day mayhap years from now but some 
 day, I, too, '11 come back and keep ye company in 
 yer wilderness home here on the lake." 
 
 With his consumate words, Bundy stooped and 
 gently gathering the child in his rough, brawny arms, 
 was in the act of lifting it from the ground, when 
 suddenly he started as though stung, gasped and 
 uttered a sharp exclamation, his rugged, weather- 
 beaten face betraying contorted features and a sickly 
 pallor in the flickering light of the fire. 
 
 The bright scarlet blanket tightly wrapped about 
 the child had, with Bundy 's movements, fallen aside, 
 disclosing the milky-white skin at neck and chest. 
 And upon the little chest, standing out markedly 
 against the milky-whiteness of the skin, were tattooed 
 in heavy black, two words: "Bruce Long,'* while 
 gleaming virulently underneath them as an eye of a 
 serpent gleams in the sun artfully inscribed in 
 minature, and in color, stood forth that selfsame 
 mysterious totem a strikingly life-like human eye, 
 black, glittering and feverishly blood-shot. 
 
 Out on the lake the loon raised his wild and
 
 60 ONAWAGO 
 
 hysterical laughter. From down through the woods 
 drifted the doleful "tu-whit, tu-whoo!" of the mourn- 
 ing owl; and from far away away in the distance so 
 far that it came as barely audible the chase-cry of 
 the pack floated across the forest fastness. 
 
 END OF PART ONE
 
 BOOK II 
 
 THE INCANTATION
 
 GNAW AGO 63 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 THE FORD OF THE RIVER 
 
 A S stated, I am Dave Bundy, Junior. And I was 
 **- then but a child entering my ninth summer 
 that memorable spring when we removed into the 
 rugged wilderness of Michigan to the hardships and 
 privations of pioneer life. Yet a robust lad even 
 then was I, and years alone have proven the then 
 primal foundations to a time and trouble-tried phys- 
 ique. Ah, yes, a boy then with a boy's heart and 
 soul, entranced with the toil and exposures of that 
 rough journey by wagon all the way from our late 
 New England home. 
 
 Well do I remember how all day from light till 
 dark I lived intent upon every phase and new-found 
 wonder of the trackless forest lining either side of 
 the old Chicago road, shouting out in unsuppressed 
 ecstacy at a glimpse of the disappearing "flag" of a 
 fleeing deercraning as we slowly moved along, 
 ever endeavoring to catch sight of yon drum- 
 ming partidge just back there within the protective
 
 64 ONAWAGO 
 
 gloom of his sylvan haunt whence he sent his thun- 
 derous mating challenge adown the silence-wrapped 
 woodlands. 
 
 So as the day was ever a source of joy, so was 
 night time a terror. I liked not our hastily impro- 
 vised camps along the roadside, where we cooked 
 supper and breakfast and slept on the ground under- 
 neath the wagon-bed on rainy nights and in the open 
 air in clear weather. For piled high with household 
 goods was our cumbrous vehicle, impossible to un- 
 load for our temporary utility and convenience. 
 Nor did I like the strange night-cries of the dark and 
 lonely forest about us. And now I know that born 
 and bred and imbued into the very uttermost depths 
 of my nature was that restless spirit of superstition, 
 inherited most strongly, perhaps, from father. 
 
 Two sturdy, faithful horses had we on this journey 
 westward, two horses which were my especial delight 
 to tend and drive, an open wagon, our household 
 goods, and ourselves: mother, father, little sister 
 Mary and myself. 
 
 Yet even with this simple equipage we labored 
 from the East with but patience-trying progress, 
 amid break-downs, wash-outs and storms, anon 
 clearing away some gigantic forest monarch struck
 
 ONAWAGO 65 
 
 by wind or lightning across the road, and once a 
 nerve-racking episode, when our old horse, Barney, 
 became suddenly ill. 
 
 And thus at length one humid, cloud-drooping 
 day of late April, we neared the termination of our 
 long, tedious journey. As usual I was driving, urg- 
 ing the team onward with boyish impatience, when 
 we looked down upon a river whose axe-slashed 
 valley denoted the sole signs of civilization we had 
 seen for many, many weary miles. It was a narrow 
 valley, brush-grown and overflowed with the spring 
 freshet. A road wound up the steep hillside beyond 
 the river's flood plain. There was no further guid- 
 ance in crossing. 
 
 We halted on the hill top and viewed the pros- 
 pect, unpromising as it truly was. Then we drove 
 onward, down hill and to an almost perilous ford- 
 ing, I willingly resigned the reins to father. 
 
 "Wife," father observed, addressing mother, "ye 
 recollect me speakin' o' the Paw Paw, don't ye now? 
 Wall, this here river 's her 'n' no other. I'd know 
 her in the dark. Empties jest above St. Joe. Trap- 
 ped her one fall les's see, must be nigh unto four- 
 teen years ago. An' a smart haul I made from her,
 
 66 ONAWAGO 
 
 too. 'Twar my third year in these parts, V three 
 afore I quit 'em." 
 
 "Now, Dave Bundy, beware ruining my feathers!" 
 admonished mother, though with a trace of banter 
 in her tone, apprehensive of her prized bedding 
 for already we were in the sluggish current of the 
 over-flow and following with some difficulty the 
 brush-cleared track before us. We gained in safety 
 the river's bank, evidenced simply by little narrow, 
 serpentine strips of land projecting above the sur- 
 rounding flood. There we paused a moment. Then 
 with a plunge the horses sprang forward and we 
 were in the ford. 
 
 And I remember the thrill that shot through me. 
 And I can again see mother snuggle little Mary to 
 her bosom. Foremost upon his knees, rigid and 
 determined, father held the faithful animals to their 
 course. And then with a forward lunge, and we with 
 a sidewise movement, were floating. For a moment 
 we drifted, partly across, more directly downward 
 with the stream's course. Then the wheels grated 
 again upon gravel. The horses gained footing, and 
 upon the welcome terra firma, landed us high and 
 safe. And mother aloud breathed her thankfulness. 
 
 Several minutes more and the valley had passed
 
 GNAW AGO 67 
 
 from our sight. We had climbed the hill and were 
 again upon the level, entering a region of under- 
 growth as wild and desolate as that bordering the 
 river a state of young budded saplings sprung up 
 from the enduring stumps of the lately devastated 
 hardwood forest. Possibly a mile of this had been 
 covered, when a single horseman, mounted bare- 
 back on an ungainly old gray mare, swept into view 
 over a gradual rise of ground in our front. With 
 reins held between his teeth, a basket swinging upon 
 one arm and a strip of rawhide twisted into a crude 
 whip that curled and hissed in sweeping circles above 
 his head to descend anon and deal a cutting blow 
 upon the flank of the terrorized animal, he rode 
 like some demon possessed of reckless deviltry. 
 
 Even in my young mind I liked not one who 
 would carry a rawhide. It shows brute nature better 
 than a physiognomy can possibly portray it. And 
 yet I mused, for this youth's features were in them- 
 selves positively a contradiction to his behavior. 
 Yet thus it ever proved in his case. 
 
 He was a lad neighboring perchance twelve years 
 in age, rather sparely built, yet sturdy and extremely 
 lithe. He was clad comfortably in homespun and 
 buckskin. His features were clean-cut and promi-
 
 68 ONAWAGO 
 
 nent. His hair was wavy and a soft chestnut-brown. 
 His eyes were blue-gray, frank and laughing. In 
 fine, he was exceptional for his age, and in all, he 
 was truly handsome. 
 
 As he swerved from the road in order to pass 
 us, the basket tipped with a sudden careen, and a 
 puppy, one of a litter of seven, fell to the ground. 
 The lad laughed. The rawhide hissed and coiled 
 like a serpent. A backward sweep and the stinging 
 lash struck the fallen puppy. Its pitiful whimper 
 smote my boyish heart, and even ere the horses had 
 come to a standstill, I had it in my arms and held it 
 close. While pausing not an instant, the youthful 
 desperado dashed onward and was lost from view, 
 headed straight for the ford on the river.
 
 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 THE BOY ON THE HORSE. 
 
 A SHORT distance farther and we crossed the 
 -** 'elevation over which we had watched the 
 mount of the violent youth, and there, almost to our 
 surprise, shortly ahead lay a village. 'Twas a rude, 
 backwoods settlement of the late Forties, built upon 
 two intersecting lumber-roads. The round-about 
 territory was sparsely settled as yet still in its pioneer 
 state, those few scattered families constituted the 
 bulk of population for miles around in that particular 
 section of Michigan. 
 
 Dusk was gathering as we reached this point and 
 viewed for the first time "Barterville," the then pre- 
 valent appellation for the village shortly ahead. 
 Lights already were streaming and flickering from 
 the windows, shedding a wierd, melancholy glow 
 out upon the evening solitude. And I remember 
 our conversation suddenly ceased, and my own heart- 
 beats and muffled breathing filled as I was with the
 
 70 ONAWAGO 
 
 excitement of this, to me, momentous occasion 
 were the only sounds audible to myself except the 
 dull, rythmic hoof-beats of the horses on the sandy 
 road. Slow was our progress and the sun had long 
 since set and the last, lingering shades of the after- 
 glow cast an uncertain glimmer over drowsy earth 
 with naught but the clouded heavens above retaining 
 the final suggestion of faded day as we passed the 
 farthermost of the out-lying clearings, and slowly 
 entered the town. 
 
 We halted before the tavern, a square, two storied 
 frame building. Its front was well set with posts and 
 to one of them father was intending to hitch. Next 
 the tavern stood a long, rambling, square-fronted 
 affair with a sign over the door: "THE VARIETY 
 STORE," with just below this in smaller lettering: 
 "All Kinds of Stuff. Prunes and Cheese. Post 
 Office." These words were rendered readable by 
 light from the blacksmith shop across the road, whose 
 blazing forge brightly illuminated the shop's interior 
 and threw its ruddy glow about us in a broad ex- 
 panse of light that leaped and danced with the shadows 
 of those at work. The regular clang of the sledge- 
 hammer upon the anvil rang out with a loud and 
 hollow metallic accent which struck the broad fronts
 
 ONAWAGO 71 
 
 of the tavern and store across the road and rebounded 
 to pronounce amid-strokes, its fainter volume. 
 
 As we halted, the proprietor of the Variety Store 
 appeared in his doorway. With one leg thrust before 
 the other, his hands shoved deep down into his 
 trousers' side-pockets and leaning propped against 
 the door-jam, his profile was drawn in inky blackness 
 againsf the yellow flicker of the candles within. 
 
 "Strangers, eh?" he inquired quizzically of father. 
 "Coin' t' settle hereabouts? Clost on the lake, eh? 
 Wall, thet air am good land, far's I know. Kinder 
 wild yit though. Better git nearer'n thet 't town, I'd 
 reckon. Lot's o' likely land nearer'n thet o' yourn." 
 
 "Guess it'll suit my likin', thet I got," replied 
 father. "Tom Arnold's thar, 'n' what's good enough 
 fer him's good enough fer me too." 
 
 "Tom Arnold, eh? Likable sort o' man. So 
 yer goin' t' neighbor with him, eh? Perty fur, way 
 up thar though. Good five mile from here. Long 
 ways offm everybody else. But if y* like thet way 
 o' doin', I reckon it's all well'n' good. Goin' t' 
 spend the night wi' Si in thar?" 
 
 He indicated the tavern with a toss of the head, 
 but was interrupted from further inquiry by the loud 
 galloping of a horse. A second later our formerly
 
 72 GNAW AGO 
 
 encountered horseman dashed through the flare from 
 the blacksmith's forge. Instantly a head popped out 
 the tavern's front window which I had noticed was 
 standing propped open. 
 
 "Hi, there, you!" shouted the head. "Bring back 
 that mare er I'll break yer bloody back!" 
 
 The lad on the old gray mare cast a supercilious 
 laugh back over his shoulder and flung in answer a 
 sing-song with high nasal twang: "Break it now, you 
 old Jaw-bone; break it naow!" 
 
 The head muttered an unintelligible oath and 
 vanised. 
 
 Yet one thing I had noticed; the lad had neither 
 basket nor puppies, nor raw-hide. We could still 
 hear his taunting laugh far up the road. 
 
 A moment later the possessor of the head ap- 
 peared at the tavern door. It was the landlord. 
 "Supper for four, wife!" he shouted back into the 
 house, then came bustling over to us, welcoming us 
 cordially to his hospitable board. 
 
 "Clean from York State. Well, I'm switched! 
 Come right in, come right in. Make yourselves 
 comfortable. You're right to home now, I want it 
 understood right to home. Nobody but Sal 'n' me;
 
 ONAWAGO 73 
 
 nobody but just us two. We'll have supper in just a 
 moment, just a moment. Excuse me thank you, 
 I'll go see!" 
 
 He disappeared to consult his goodly wife. Im- 
 mediately the horse's galloping sounded again down 
 the road, approaching. A moment more and the 
 old gray mare slackened pace close alongside us. 
 
 "Who you folks lookin' fer?" brusquely inquired 
 the boy. "Tom Arnold's place? 5 
 
 "What about him?" queried father. 
 
 "I'm bound there right now," answered the boy. 
 "If you'd like t' get there with somebody t' show you 
 how, I'm yours without askin'. Come on, if you're 
 goin'." 
 
 "Wall," added father, pensively scratching his 
 head, "hadn't thought o' goin' up thar till mornin'. 
 It's a mighty black night. 'N' it' a big two hours 
 drive from here, V nothin' but woods the whole 
 way thar. Nope. Guess we hadn't best go till 
 mornin.' Thankee, all the same.*' 
 
 "Aw, yer scared out, yer scared out! Hain't 
 nothin' goin' t' hurt you. The dark can't bite. Come 
 on, I'll drive. I know the road. I'll see you there 
 safe enough." 
 
 "Better not let Si see yer hangin' eroun' here,"
 
 74 ONAWAGO 
 
 called the store-keeper to the boy. "He'll gi' y' the 
 whalin' ye desarve ef he gits hands on yu'." 
 
 The boy paid him no attention outside a scornful 
 curl of the lip, but satJon his horse stolid and sullen; 
 then he resumed his attempt at persuading us to 
 proceed. 
 
 "This old nag belongs t' old Jaw-bone here. I 
 sneaked her this afternoon. I'm through with her 
 now. If I don't get a ride home, I've got t' walk. 
 Come on, 'tain't no sense stayin' here. Tom's been 
 lookin* fer you every day for a month. Come on, 
 he's dead anxious to see you. Come on, nothin's 
 interferin', come on." 
 
 "What'd y'u do wi' them thar pups, scamp?" 
 came from the store. "Bet a coon-skin ye stole 'em 
 somewhare, thet I'll bet." 
 
 Mother and little Mary had entered the tavern. 
 Yet anxious as we were for supper, father and I still 
 lingered outside, debating with this strange lad. But 
 suddenly the landlord's portly figure appeared once 
 more in the lighted doorway. Instantly the old gray 
 mare whirled about, plunged forward and her hoofs 
 clattered up the road.
 
 ONAWAGO 75 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE DRIVE TO ARNOLD'S. 
 
 night without was black when, supper finished, 
 I attended to the team, stabling them in a rude 
 shed behind the tavern. I had fed and was busy 
 bedding them down when I felt, rathern than noticed, 
 someone slip from out the darkness and lay a hand 
 lightly upon my shoulder, standing close beside me. 
 "It's only me, kid," he whispered. "Don't be 
 scared. Let that work go for a minute an' listen. 
 Go in an' coax that dad o' yourn to go on to Tom's 
 tonight. They hain't nothin' t' be afeard of. I'll 
 drive an' I know the road same by dark as by day- 
 time. I just now stuck the old mare back in the yard 
 there where old Jaw-bone'll be likely to find her in 
 the mornin'. So now you just go on in an' coax 
 your old man to come on an' go 'long to Tom's. 
 Tom's dyin' t' see him. Tell him that, too. We 
 can get there in an hour or so. Gosh, they ain't nothin' 
 to stay here for! Tell him we might as well move 
 along an' git there and have yer long drive over with.
 
 76 ONAWAGO 
 
 Will y' do it, kid? go in an' coax him? But don't 
 ye dare to let old Jaw-bone hear ye say that I'm out 
 here." 
 
 I straightway went indoors, slipped around -to 
 father's chair where he tilted back against the wall, 
 conversing with our jovial host, and in an undertone, 
 delivered the boy's message. 
 
 "Wall, guess we may'z well move 'long, landlord," 
 spoke father. 'The lad here's coaxin' t' go. It's 
 nigh to eight year since Tom 'n' me ha' saw each 
 other an' ye may be bettin' ez how I'm dead anxious 
 fer t' see him, an' him me, I s'pose. Sorry not t' put 
 up wi' ye the night, but the fact is, I'm in a turrible 
 flurry t' git t' Tom's an* have this long trip done. I 
 jest can't content myself t' wait till mornin', landlord. 
 Dave, ye can go hitch up, lad." 
 
 Shortly we were upon the road once more. The 
 night was utter black as we passed out the village 
 so black that with difficulty we found the tote-road 
 that branched off to the right toward Arnold's. Ab- 
 solute silence brooded on every hand. The regular 
 thuds of the horses' hoofs and the dull, sullen rumble 
 of the wagon only tended to add melancholy to this 
 black silence about us this unearthly, oppressive 
 silencelthat dampened our spirits like a pall. On
 
 ONAWAGO 77 
 
 either side of us stretched uncut wilderness; towering 
 hardwoods loomed up beside us in shadowy silhou- 
 ette against the clouded sky. No wind stirred. A 
 fine mist in the air wafted chill against our faces 
 until we shivered with its uncanny dampness. 
 
 I drove, seated in front, father, mother and little 
 Mary farther arear, perched high upon our bulky 
 load. I drove in that our prospective guide had 
 failed to materialize at the wanted time. We were 
 concerned. Positively we could never find our way 
 through this black night without his guidance. Al- 
 ready we had covered some goodly distance. Would 
 he yet appear? or, had he played another of his 
 sundry pranks? 
 
 Suddenly a deep, gruff voice spoke from out the 
 dark, requesting a ride. I reined in the horses. 
 Could there be a lonely pedestrian such a night upon 
 a wilderness road like this? 
 
 A dim figure lurched up over the wheel a figure 
 that I recognized as that of the lad on the old gray 
 mare. He laughed softly as he found a seat at my 
 side. 
 
 "Fooled yu', didn't I nqw, with that voice I put 
 on? Thought I wa'n't goin* t' drive after all^ now, 
 didn't yu', kid? An' I'll warrant ye felt mighty
 
 78 ONAWAGO 
 
 squeamish too, didn't yu'? Yu'd a never found the 
 place without me, though, that's sure. Here, give 
 me them lines. I'm driver here." 
 
 I hesitated. "Reckon I'll drive my own self," I 
 answered sulkily. 
 
 "An* I reckon you jest won't!" he asservated 
 sharply. "I'll have yu' to know that I'm driver o' 
 this here shebang! Give them lines here. D'yn' 
 hear me? Hand 'em over, I say!" 
 
 Someway I courted antagonism with this lad 
 had rebelled against his influence secretly from the 
 first. My very innermost spirit clashed against his. 
 
 I doggedly retained the reins. 
 
 "Give yu' jest three to hand 'em over. One 
 two-THREE!" 
 
 He snatched at them. I jerked them out of his 
 reach. In return he swung a resounding slap with 
 the flat of his hand across my mouth. My blood 
 fairly boiled. Drawing back deliberately with my 
 utmost strength I struck him just above the ear a blow 
 that reeled him almost off the load. But instantly 
 he was back at me. Reaching over, he wrapped his 
 long, sinewy arms about me, pinning mine at my 
 side. Then raising himself, he swung me in the act
 
 ONAWAGO 79 
 
 of flinging me headlong to the ground, when father's 
 voice and hand arrested him. 
 
 "Ye imp! I'll sling ye clare t' Don't ye dare 
 
 make another move, ye varlet. Put the boy back 
 there to his seat. Dave, I say, let him drive. He 
 knows the road." 
 
 Thence we rode in silence, laboriously bumping 
 along through the endless waterholes and ruts of that 
 rough, lumbering road, the wagon jostling and careen- 
 ing wildly from side to side. The time dragged 
 tediously along and it was perhaps an hour or so 
 later that the feeble flicker of a light from a small 
 window far on ahead, streamed down the open cut 
 of the roadway. 
 
 "That there's Tom's," causlly remarked the boy. 
 "Mighty glad we're here." Then after several 
 minutes: "How old areyu', kid?" 
 
 "Nine," I answered. 
 
 "So's Martha," he snapped, conclusively. 
 
 "Who's Martha?" I queried. 
 
 "None of yer business. She's only a gal. Now 
 d'yu know?" 
 
 "Then what's your age?" I returned. 
 
 "Hain't got no sure age, I guess." 
 
 "Then when's your birthday?"
 
 80 ONAWAGO 
 
 "Never had none." 
 
 "Where do you live?" I persisted. 
 
 "No place." 
 
 "Aw, go on," I blurted out. "You're only lyin'." 
 
 "Don't yu' call me no liar, kid, don't yu' dare! I 
 tell yu' that I don't live no place fer long, an' it's the 
 truth. Sometimes I stay with Tom, sometimes not. 
 Jest as I please to." 
 
 "Well, then, who's Martha Martha who's my 
 age?" I enjoined. 
 
 "Oh, she's nobody but Tom's gal his only gal yu' 
 know. She's some sort o' way my sister; but I'm not 
 her brother, I don't figure. But what's the difference 
 t' yu', kid, who she is?" 
 
 "What's your name," I replied, disdaining his retort 
 
 "That ain't got nothin' t' do with you. Tain't 
 none o' yer business, neither. 'Tain't no name to 
 brag on." 
 
 "What's your name, boy?" demanded father 
 sternly. 
 
 The boy sulked a moment, then blurted out 
 savagely: 
 
 "Hope yu'll all be satisfied when I tell yu' what it 
 is. Must want t' know mighty hard. Now d'yu 
 know? It's BRUCE LONG."
 
 ONAWAGO 81 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE EVENING AT ARNOLD'S. 
 
 T> RUCE Long helped me in caring for the horses. 
 -*-* Then with them comfortable in the barn, to- 
 gether we proceeded to the house. But even as I laid 
 my hand upon the door-latch, I suddenly missed him 
 from my side. Where could he have gone so sud- 
 denly, so silently, so mysteriously as to be thus swal- 
 lowed up, as it were, in the blackness of the night? 
 
 I called, but there came no answer. For some 
 moments I waited, surprised and wondering, upon 
 the door-step; then raised the latch-string and entered 
 the house. I "disposed of my heavy outer wraps, 
 then quitely joined the others in the large living-room, 
 which was ablaze with mellow light from the great 
 open-mouted fire-place. One solitary candle fluttered 
 its yellow flame from the eating-table over in one 
 corner where mother, with Mary on her lap, sat 
 chatting with Mrs. Arnold. Father and Tom were 
 already engaged in retrospective conversation, their
 
 82 ONAWAGO 
 
 hilarious enthusiasm over being re-united after eight 
 years separation still at full blast. 
 
 I looked about for Martha, she whom Bruce had 
 referred to as "Tom's only gal/' Upon our arrival 
 I had been formally presented to both Mr. and Mrs. 
 Arnold, but I had failed to notice anyone of my age 
 or thereabouts. 
 
 Nobody seemed to note Bruce Long's absence. 
 Therefore I made no mention of it, but quietly seated 
 myself upon the settee near the chimney-place, and 
 sat listening to father and Tom's discourse as they sat 
 before the hearth, reclining leisurely back in their 
 easy chairs and rocking measuredly to and fro, the 
 firelight before them spreading enormous features 
 and outlines upon the shadowy background of the 
 large room where along the walls, fantastic gestures 
 mimicked in frolic their natural likenesses. 
 
 "An 5 Moccasin, Tom? Does he yit hang t' the 
 place?" 
 
 "Aye, Bundy, he does, and with grit like that of a 
 wolverine. He still lives in the hut you two built 
 over across there at the south end of the lake. You 
 see this house stands shortly back in the woods from 
 the spot where we found Bruce that night, and if, as 
 you say, you have two quarters, then you certainly
 
 ONAWAGO 83 
 
 have the land on which the red-skin resides. Glad 
 will he be when he sees you once more for he speaks 
 of you often and always as "Brother." 
 
 "An' the boy'*? queried father. 
 
 "Runs wild as a famished wolf. Where he spends 
 his time I am unable to learn, for though I've tried 
 my best to follow him, he always seems to know it 
 and somehow manages to throw me off his track. 
 He outwits me at every turn. 
 
 Seldom is he at home, and where he gets his 
 meals puzzles me. I have done all in my power for 
 him. There is but one stone left unturned, and 
 that is to send him to Uncle William (perhaps you 
 recollect seeing him at my place back East sometime 
 or other) an old, wealthy merchant, lately retired, 
 in the Big City. When here last summer he took 
 decided fancy to the boy, probably because of his 
 strange history and his peculiar personality, for 
 young as he is, he strikes me as exceptional. And 
 strange though it seemed, Bruce also took a singular 
 liking to the old gentleman, for while Uncle was 
 here, the lad ceased his deviltry and was ever at the 
 old man's side. And now Uncle wants to take him 
 and school him. It's the best thing for the boy and 
 the best thing for us all, so I've decided to compel
 
 84 ONAWAGO 
 
 the boy to go, whether willingly or unwillingly, it 
 matters not which, he'll have to go in season for 
 next Fall's term." 
 
 'Twas here I noticed Mrs. Arnold turn in her 
 chair. 
 
 "Go back, pet, and dress and then come down." 
 I turned quickly in the direction she had addressed, 
 just in time to see a little white-robed figure 
 vanish into the gloom of the stairway. Ah, that was 
 Martha, then! She was here after all. My heart 
 began to pound rebelliously high in my chest, almost 
 suffocatingly in my excitement excitement from I 
 knew not what. 
 
 "An* how ha' ye done here i' the woods, Tom?" 
 "Pretty tough all around, Bundy. Things have 
 gone against me. Deer destroy considerable of my 
 grain every year. Scarce a fowl can I keep on the 
 place on account of vermin. I lost my best horse 
 before I'd been here six months. The shingle- 
 diggin's' at Barterville have been overstocked all the 
 time so's I couldn't dispose of my timber. And if I 
 turn my hogs on the acorns and let them run, some 
 of 'em will come up missing every time because of 
 wolves and cats and bears. I've had hard fightin', 
 Bundy, to keep things movin'."
 
 ONAWAGO 85 
 
 "A good log house is this, good-sized and warm, 
 three rooms below and two above. A good deal of 
 land I've cleared, but I've burned most all the trees 
 and what I've saved, the logs are simply rotting on 
 the place. And it's been mighty lonesome for Sallie 
 but nary a word has she said one way or the other, 
 though everything seems to want to go against us 
 more or less; and yet we've managed to keepexistin' 
 away out here in this dreary old wilderness all alone, 
 a-waiting and a-praying for someone to turn up as a 
 neighbor, and above all in the world, waiting and 
 praying for you. And now that you're here, I'm 
 going to start in with new spirit. There's enough 
 logs already down here on my place to build your 
 house and until we get it finished, you can live with 
 us, and welcome." 
 
 Intuitively I became aware of a presence at my 
 side. My heart fluttered wildly as I turned to look 
 and to find that Martha, now dressed, had slipped 
 silently into the room, and, without attracting my 
 attention, had seated herself upon the opposite end 
 of my settee, gazing at me with shy, wondering blue 
 eyes that dropped coyly before my own astonished 
 stare.
 
 86 ONAWAGO 
 
 "Are you the little boy who's come to live with 
 us here in the woods?" she asked softly. 
 
 "And are you Martha?" I stammered in a 
 whisper. 
 
 "And isn't your name David? Mamma said it 
 was. David was an awful, awful good, brave boy. 
 He's in the Bible, you know. I s'pose you're just 
 like him or you wouldn't have his name, would you? 
 He slayed Goliath with a pebble and a string and 
 then was king, the Bible says. Can you slay folks 
 with a pebble and a string? 
 
 But listen! Papa's telling a story a queer story. 
 Did you ever hear it before? I think it is almost as 
 good as the David and Goliath one." 
 
 Tom was telling the story of The Cry recounting 
 his strange and mysterious experience of that Novem- 
 ber night. The story has already been told in these 
 pages, but to me as a child, it ever contained a 
 fascinating and bewildering import that set my young 
 mind, upon every recital, to wondering upon the 
 strangeness of it all. 
 
 The story finished as it had been finished many, 
 many times though somehow it seemed ever new 
 the conversation thenceforth lagged. The fire 
 burned lower and lower, unreplenished, and silence
 
 ONAWAGO 87 
 
 reigned over the household. Little Martha's eye-lids 
 were heavy and drooping, but for myself, I remained 
 wide awake, for I was preternaturally of a nervous 
 temperament and the unbroken silence of the room 
 grated upon me. The others sat staring dreamily 
 into the glaring embers. Only the gusts outside 
 howled and shrieked, increasing steadily in violence 
 as the late hours approached. And in this continued 
 breathless quietude, we dispersed for the night. 
 
 In the low-ceilinged, dimly-lighted bed-room to 
 which I was conducted, I lay for a long time, my mind 
 wandering over the day's manifold events; our peril 
 at the ford; the singular maneuvers of that strange 
 youth, Bruce Long; his purpose with those puppies 
 (mine even now slept upon the foot of my bed); his 
 daring in openly stealing the landlord's mare for the 
 afternoon; our long ride through the dark to Arnold's 
 and lastly Bruce's mysterious disappearance after 
 helping me with the horses. Then I thought of the 
 narration concerning the horrid cry which had arisen 
 one starry night ten long years ago in this very forest 
 around the lake. Ah, I would see this lake in the 
 morning this lake I had heard so much about! 
 Thence my mind strayed to little Martha, for already 
 it seemed, I loved her with my boyish heart. And
 
 88 ONAWAGO 
 
 what is more sacred than the love of childhood? 
 Then slowly things confused themselves; nothing 
 seemed real, and I gradually dropped to sleep. 
 
 I awoke with a start. Someone was choking me. 
 Bending over me I could just distinguish the outlined 
 figure of what I took to be an undersized man. I 
 started to cry out, but his fingers pressed my throat, 
 shutting off my breath. A low, barely audible 
 whisper: "If yu' make a sound, I'll strangle yu,' kid!" 
 and I recognized Bruce Long's voice. It frightened 
 me, for I knew his threat was law; so I gave him no 
 resistance as he took me in his strong, young arms 
 and surreptitiously slipped from the house into the 
 black, inclement night without. 
 
 But meanwhile, I had seized my puppy in my 
 arms and borne him with me. And he, nestling 
 close, vented not a whimper. 
 
 Then something wet and warm trickled down 
 over my fingers, and feeling I found whence it came. 
 
 As I slept, my puppy's ears had been cropped!
 
 ONAWAGO 89 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 THE PROPHECY. 
 
 cold night wind howled about us as I fol- 
 lowed, led I knew not whither; simply followed, 
 bewildered, over-awed, choking back my fright and 
 endeavoring to heed not this black darkness which 
 seemed to close in upon us with tangible weight as 
 though in order to proceed, we must reach forth and 
 seize it and force it from before us. Bruce's arm 
 embraced me, clutched about me with no gentle 
 pressure as he literally dragged me along at his rapid 
 gait; while my arms in turn hugged closely my puppy 
 to my bosom. 
 
 I have no trace of time or the length of our 
 journey. But finally, after a seeming age to me, we 
 struck into a thicket so dense that to penetrate it, we 
 were obliged to tear our way. At length in this en- 
 tanglement of vegetation, Bruce stopped; and I, 
 reaching forth a hand in the black darkness, came in 
 contact with the cold, clammy side of a damp and 
 decaying log. With a shudder I drew away from its 
 grewsomeness, tightening my convulsive grasp upon
 
 90 ONAWAGO 
 
 my puppy and with anguished sufferance, awaiting 
 Bruce Long's pleasure. 
 
 I supposed him pausing to regain his breath and 
 I, in turn, panted heavily, chokingly at his side. 
 Then while we paused, suddenly I discerned that he 
 trembled surely not with cold for we had been 
 walking with utmost speed. For quite a space he 
 thus hestitated as though in doubt whether to proceed 
 or turn back until at length he shrugged as though to 
 be liberated from some undesired and overpowering 
 influence, and stepping resolutely forward, touched 
 a low door that creakingly swung slowly open. A 
 peculiar glimmer of uncertain light fell about us; and 
 following the example of my abductor, I stepped 
 forward into a dusky enclosure, the door closing 
 automatically behind me. 
 
 Before us a few smouldering coals glowed in the 
 center of an earthen floor, shedding a weired, semi- 
 obscurity about the place. The place itself was a 
 square-built, bark wigwam, without a single article of 
 furniture or a utensil naught but bare, earthen floor 
 and the warped and mouldering bark of the walls. 
 
 Intense, unearthly silence prevailed. Not a sound 
 save the dull moaning of the night-wind without and 
 the tumultuous throbbing of my own heart, broke
 
 ONAWAGO 91 
 
 this unearthly silence which hung death-like about 
 the place like the peculiar, stifling, atmosphere of a 
 tomb. While strangely, this stifling, haunted atmos- 
 phere smote my heart with a vague, though dread 
 intuition of human occupancy, my eyed roved rest- 
 lessly about the place until at length I began believing 
 it surely tenantless after all, when chancing to glance 
 furtively by way of inquiry at my midnight abductor, 
 I found his eyes resting upon the corner close behind 
 me. Involuntarily I drew back, and turning, stood 
 as petrified, transfixed with an unwholesome, hyster- 
 ical oppression at my heart. 
 
 At first I could discern nothing further than two 
 eyes two eyes which were fixed upon mine with a 
 virulent glare and burning as I have seen the eyes of 
 felines shine in the dark. Then slowly my sight be- 
 came accustomed to the gloom, and I described the 
 lineaments of a muffled figure crouched in the corner 
 close before me, its dusky outlines lost in the accom- 
 panying shadow. One naked arm reclined across 
 its black garment. Coarse black hair draggled down 
 upon it, hanging loosely from about the shoulders 
 and enclosing a dark, menacing countenance from 
 which glowered those penetrating, pather-like eyes. 
 
 Strange loathing incensed me. And I shrank
 
 92 ONAWAGO 
 
 back horrified, my heart seeming to flutter in vacuum. 
 And I gazed with undisguised adhorrence into those 
 eyes my God, those eyes; I can see them yet which 
 glowered still into mine. 
 
 Bruce, meantime, had released his encircling arm. 
 And now, as I stood there, he strode forward to the 
 fire, his tall, boyish figure outlined against the ruddy 
 glow of the coals as he bent above them. He stirred 
 them, raked them closer together with a small stick 
 which he carried. Then he broke the stick in twain 
 and threw the pieces upon the embers. Then he 
 turned and faced me. 
 
 "Kid," he spoke, "d'yu know that you've come 
 to learn yerfate?" 
 
 As he spoke the crouched figure in the corner 
 began to rock slowly backward and forward, croon- 
 ing a kind of wordless song. Then suddenly, noise- 
 lessly, she was on her feet. Moving rapidly, she 
 circled half around the fire and faced me from be- 
 yond. And I, fearful, cowed before those wildly 
 lighted eyes, and slinking backward into the corner 
 the corner she had vacated, crouched into it. But 
 in crouching, something I felt behind me, and reach- 
 ing thereto, I brought forth and threw from me into
 
 ONAWAGO 93 
 
 the center of the floor an odd sort of gun, a flint-lock 
 musket with a ten-inch barrel. 
 
 A tiny blaze had meanwhile sprung up, emitting 
 a sort of wierd and indistinct glow about the place 
 that heightened the shadows and flashing upward into 
 the face of Onawago, strongly multiplied the hide- 
 ousness of her aspect. She stood in a wild attitude, 
 bending slightly forward. Her arms were out- 
 stretched, the fingers parted as if sifting the fumes of 
 the fire. Her long black garb fell to earth like the 
 black shroud of some infernal habitant, coiling close- 
 ly about her shapeless figure; and the firelight play- 
 ing upon its many folds, added deeper shadows to 
 its blackness. Evidently she was approaching great 
 age. Deep wrinkles crossed and recrossed her face. 
 A few gray hairs glistened silvery among the jet. 
 Her cheeks were slightly sunken from missing teeth, 
 and in all there was something remarkably repulsive, 
 remarkably abhorrent about her about her leering 
 poise, about her uncouth visage, about those glower- 
 ing, feline eyes. 
 
 The two sticks still burned. 
 
 Bruce, meantime, had thrust his hands into his 
 trousers pockets and had brought therefrom some- 
 thing which he now was dropping one by one meas-
 
 94 ONAWAGO 
 
 uredly upon the enlivened embers of the fire. And 
 I saw each one as it fell, flare instantly into a vanish- 
 ing flame; and I watched them one by one, curl and 
 crumple together, simmer strangely, then char. 
 
 They were pup ears! 
 
 And he counted hesitantly as they fell, and the 
 last one numbered fourteen. 
 
 My face I buried in my hands, childlike, and in 
 my fright gave way to sobbing. I listened, too, yet 
 heeded not nor comprehended aught of, the contin- 
 uance of her medicine-incantation. Only once, out 
 of sheer juvenile curiosity, I peered through parted 
 fingers at her, and the picture of it all that tableau 
 in all its horror lies indelible upon my memory. 
 
 All before me seemed to recede into far distance 
 and there became an unhallowed phantasmagoria. 
 In a setting of opaque background, Onawago posed 
 in wild attitude. The slanting beams of fire at her 
 feet flared about her an indistinct radiance which 
 tawned her skin and wrapped her swarthy body in 
 an unholy halo for a striking transformation in her 
 appearance had taken place. He black garb had 
 suddenly been cast aside. She now stood forth 
 unclad, her spare body decked in all the hideous 
 splendor of her medicine raiment aglitter with gew-
 
 ONAWAGO 95 
 
 gaws, aflare with banded feathers and aglow with 
 barbarous characters in brilliant paint in the custom 
 of her race. She stood rigid and motionless save 
 for a slight movement of her parted lips, bending 
 backward, her face tilted upward with eyes closed, 
 and her long strands of loose hair falling straight 
 downward almost to earth. Her long, emaciated 
 arms were extended outward and upward as though 
 invoking aid from some nether region. A heavy, 
 dark fur, draped backward from her shoulders, 
 caught in fastening about the throat by a necklace of 
 iridescent sea shells that contrasted markedly their 
 pale lustre with the swarthy olive-hue of her skin. 
 Beneath them, sunken low between her drooping 
 and shrunken breasts, lighted to life-like ferocity by 
 the flickering flare of the coals, gleamed a minature 
 inscription a human eye, black, glittering and fever- 
 ishly blood-shot. 
 
 My face sank in my palms. I leaned forward, 
 clutching spasmodically my puppy, my sobs dying 
 away, for in the air close about me, a low voice, 
 strangely familiar, spoke tremulously that which to 
 me sounded like a judgment from the dead: 
 
 "Mighty, Marvelous, Mystic, Magic, Bloody, 
 Wierd, Peculiar, Tragic!"
 
 96 ONAWAGO 
 
 . Toward the last his voice had died to a whisper. 
 Then suddenly I was snatched into his strong, wiry 
 arms and hurriedly borne away into the blackness of 
 the night. 
 
 END OF BOOK II.
 
 BOOK III 
 
 BRUCE LONG
 
 ONAWAGO 99 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 THE TRACK THAT LIES IN THE FOREST. 
 
 'T^HE sickled disk of a crescent moon swung in the 
 -- western heavens. It's pale beams stretched 
 slantwise upon the waters round us, transforming 
 their tranquil sheen to a plane of burnished silver, 
 imbedded by the dark and silent forest. 'Twas a 
 night, balmy and breathless, of early October, 1858; 
 and the infinite magnificence of its autumnal glory 
 calmed our hearts as were the waters calm upon 
 which we floated. Not a whisper of air fanned a 
 blemish upon the silent lake nor shook a leaf of the 
 sleeping trees on shore through whose intervening 
 trunks a single ray of light streamed a candle's gleam 
 from the Arnold home. Moccasin's lodge at the 
 lake's southern end, reposed in darkness with not a 
 suggestion of moonlight piercing the foliage of the 
 mammoth trees which hovered paternally above it, 
 silently as they had stood one November night, black 
 and starry, when a wild cry, strangely unearthly, had
 
 100 ONAWAGO 
 
 arisen within this forest, striking terror to the hearts 
 of the two men who sat before their campfire. 
 
 Twenty long, uneventful years had dragged past 
 since that night, uneventful, except that father was no 
 more. Yet Moccasin, now a white-haired, hale old 
 Indian of some sixty odd, still inhabited the same log 
 lodge father and he had constructed those twenty 
 years ago. And now this night of October, one of 
 his manufacture was the dug-out canoe in which 
 Martha and I drifted upon the moonlit lake. No 
 longer were we children as when our family had set- 
 tled in this rugged wilderness of the lake. For since 
 that memorable night of our coming, ten years had 
 sped away ten years of our youth and during those 
 ten years we had grown, she a woman, I a man a 
 man in stature, a man in mind and a man in might 
 she a woman, old as was I for my years and the 
 pride of my young life. Together had we sprung 
 from childhood, schooled side by side at mother's 
 hand, and with a stronger tie than affiliation existing 
 between us. Six feet in my moccasins stood I now 
 at nineteen, with the rigor and vigor of the wilder- 
 ness instilled into every fibre of my strong physique. 
 
 "It seems queer to me, Martha, that the ghosts of 
 Indian Hollow should cry last night as they cried
 
 ONAWAGO 101 
 
 that evening when father listened to them from the 
 mountain-top; for since then no one has ever men- 
 tioned hearing them, not even Moccasin. Of course, 
 'twas he told me of their crying last night. I wonder 
 what father would think were he living. I have 
 never liked the tradition. Fact is, I doubt the whole 
 thing. I credit it merely to Moccasin's imagination. 
 Yet father used to tell of them too, and swore that 
 you could hear the squaw whimper and shriek so 
 realistic that you could all but see her; and then at 
 the end the buck would laugh exultingly when he 
 heard her beg. But faugh ! what's the sense in it all? 
 And yet yet 'tis strange, Martha, rather strange 
 after all." 
 
 "Why, Dave, from the way you speak, I actually 
 think you do half believe in them yourself. Father 
 says it's nothing but Indian legend; probably some 
 Miamas were murdered in the hollow sometime or 
 other, or some such thing gave it rise. I too have 
 news for you; Bruce Long came back this morning. 
 Yes, on a short visit, he says. And he's fine looking, 
 Dave; I tell you, he's fine looking. We're all so 
 proud of him. Why, Dave, he's oh, so handsome! 
 And such clothes! My, they're exquisite! And he 
 brought his saddler all the way from the city. He
 
 102 ONAWAGO 
 
 says it was a terrible undertaking though to get the 
 horse through. He rode clear across from Detroit 
 and shipped his luggage by train to Niles." 
 
 "And what does he have to say about the pro- 
 perty?" I asked. 
 
 "Do you mean the particulars of Uncle William's 
 will? Bruce declares that there is more property 
 than he at first supposed and that Uncle was far 
 wealtheir than anyone realized. Ever since Bruce 
 graduated last spring, he has been looking into the 
 estate. And it's true that father and Bruce are the 
 sole heirs." 
 
 "It seems queer to me that he willed everything 
 to them," I demurred. "There were plenty of other 
 relations." 
 
 "Yes, but up to the time that Uncle William be- 
 came acquainted with Bruce Long, father had always 
 been his sole intimate. Uncle was a recluse and of 
 course, a bachelor. At the time of Uncle's death, 
 three years ago, Bruce and father were still his only 
 intimates and therefore, he created them his heirs. 
 The estate is to be divided equally between them at 
 the expiration of the allotted three years. The time 
 is almost due now." 
 
 "And why this three years?" I queried.
 
 ONAWAGO 103 
 
 "It was an excellent provision," she replied non- 
 chalantly. 
 
 "At the time of Uncle's death, Bruce still had 
 three years at college, and Uncle wisely provided 
 that he should come to the estate after he was grad- 
 uated, which, I understand, he did with the highest 
 honors." 
 
 "Yes, but there was one other provision, so I 
 understood." 
 
 "Certainly; that if either Bruce or father should 
 die before the three years should have elapsed, then 
 all should go to the one surviving. And that is 
 simply because Uncle was determined that they, 
 Bruce Long and father, and they only, should have 
 the benefit of his earnings. That, surely, is well 
 enough." 
 
 "Yes, but, Martha, it seems it seems to me it 
 seems," I stammered. "I hate to say this, Martha; 
 but somehow, I feel it somehow, Martha I feel that 
 you are somehow slipping away from me; that we 
 shall never know each other in the future as we 
 have in the past. A month more, and you will be 
 wealthy, an heiress. Then you will turn your back 
 upon these woods and your wilderness home for 
 your costlier home in the city. And as for me,
 
 104 ONAWAGO 
 
 Martha, I shall remain here in the woods. I have 
 no other home know no other home. These 
 woods these woods in which I have grown, consti- 
 tute all of my small world, and them I love. These 
 woods alone can I call home and that, and that a 
 home of hemlock logs; yours a stone mansion. I, a 
 poor, ignorant back-woodsman; you, attending some 
 fashionable school. My God, Martha, is it possible 
 this can be!" 
 
 "Don't, Dave, don't! Don't talk like that! I 
 can't endure it. You know it is hard enough already 
 to think of going away without your making it any 
 harder." 
 
 "But I am only telling you the truth, Martha, this 
 truth that lurks in my heart with an aching pang. 
 And, moreover, I feel that Bruce that Bruce Long, 
 has come with more intent than a visit; that he shall 
 take back with him far more than a mere pleasant 
 impression of his boyhood home. I hate I loath 
 to say it, Martha; my God, I loath even to think it 
 but for your sake as well as my own, I speak; for 
 full sure I am that he has come that he has come 
 for more for more than than a a mere visit." 
 
 "Tell me what you mean by this, Dave!" she ex- 
 claimed in a startled breath, her eyes alight with
 
 The unshucked ear slipped from my grasp. Page 108.
 
 ONAWAGO 105 
 
 salient fear. "Tell me why you think he has come 
 
 for more than a mere visit. Tell me. I demand it." 
 
 "I mean, Martha," I answered, my voice husky 
 
 with emotion, "I mean that he has come for for 
 
 
 you. 
 
 She replied not. 
 
 I was bending forward, heedless of surroundings, 
 gazing upon that sweet face upturned to the moon- 
 beams that face I loved so dearly, and which I now 
 saw and my heart sank slowly paling. And still 
 she replied not, though I waited breathless for an 
 answer, while a deathlike pall settled upon my heart. 
 And as I waited, the reigning quietude lay unbroken, 
 while the placid smoothness of the silvered lake 
 rippled with not even as much as the leap of a bass 
 or the swish of a marauding pickerel. 
 
 "Son-of-my-Brother!" 
 
 We both started from our reveries. But only 
 Moccasin and his canoe had glided noiselessly along- 
 side our own. 
 
 "Son-of-my-Brother," he again spoke in his 
 familiar Pottawattamie. "A new track lies in the 
 forest. A footprint leads to the door of my daugh- 
 ter's wigwam but it is not this track that lies in the 
 forest. This track that lies in the forest touches the
 
 106 ONAWAGO 
 
 earth but in spots. The footprint that leads to the 
 door of the wigwam of Nin-don-son follows straight 
 and is clad in the heavy leather that is made in the 
 great cities of the palefaces. A paleface from the city 
 it is who walks. The toe turns out." 
 
 "But, Ne-can-es, this track that lies in the forest 
 leads in a different direction. It follows no path; 
 neither does it step. Merely the marks of wicker- 
 work, is this track that lies in the forest."
 
 ONAWAGO 107 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 LONG'S STRANGERS. 
 
 TT was the following week, and Friday. The hush 
 ^ and sublimity of Indian summer lay over the 
 land; but the halcyon days were nearing their close. 
 The afternoon was rapidly waning, and already the 
 sun was sinking to his rest. Already a tender tone 
 of rose was growing in the east; while just tipping 
 the eastern horizon, wan and ghostly, swung the pal- 
 lid moon. Already the lonely wail of a screech 
 owl over in the woods, and a winging night-hawk 
 brushed past me, low over the stubble. 
 
 I sat cross-legged husking; and the golden ears 
 lay in small piles throughout the field, one pile to 
 each shock. I was now upon the final shock and 
 anxious to be through. I was working late, endeav- 
 oring to complete my fall's work somewhat earlier 
 this season. I was facing south. Over on my left, 
 and adjoining the corn field, stretched my timothy 
 meadow, and just beyond it stood my log-built home. 
 And as I rested a minute in my work a candle's
 
 108 ONAWAGO 
 
 feeble light sprang from its window and streamed 
 out upon the prescient night. And as I gazed at it, 
 from over at the barn the hungry neigh of old Barney, 
 impatient and wondering at his prolonged wait for 
 his supper, came quavering out upon the still night 
 air. 
 
 Encircling the "clearings" skirted the uncut forest, 
 now gloom-wrapped in the shades of gloaming, 
 while through a single vista I could discern a glint of 
 the mirroring lake. And over to my right, against 
 the fiery glare of the sinking sun, in black and sinister 
 silhouette, rose the giant hill and his lesser brothers, 
 their prosaic regularity of ridge-crest standing like 
 great genii guarding jealously their secret solitudes. 
 One opening alone cut its depression through their 
 ranks the deep gulch of Indian Hollow, wrapped 
 in shadow, sombre and forbidding. 
 
 The forest rose just behind me; its shade already 
 held me, and I sat with my back to the shock. I 
 may have paused some minutes in my work; I can 
 not state positively for I was oblivious for the nonce 
 to self and surroundings, brooding as I was upon that 
 which imperiled my future. Be it as it may, 'twas 
 suddenly that I started, and the unshucked ear slip- 
 ped from my grasp. A far distant sound one
 
 ONAWAGO 109 
 
 musical to the hunter-born had struck upon my ear. 
 Once more it came the long, deep, drawn-out bay 
 of a tracking hound. Again it lifted, full and clear, 
 and I recognized old Luxor's bass. 
 
 From the moment I had gathered him in my 
 arms that April day as we approached Barterville, 
 through these ten ensuing years, he had been my 
 faithful and ever-constant companion. His cherished 
 memory even now quickens the impulse within me 
 in recording this laconic chronicle. "Luxor" we 
 called him, or "Lux" for short. 
 
 Again came his deep-voiced bay, louder, nearer 
 now resounding and reverbrating in long-drawn 
 measures and half-sobs off through the silence-wrap- 
 ped forest and away over into the sentinel-like dunes. 
 Automatically I arose from the ground and straight- 
 ened to full height. But instantly I slunk back close 
 to the shock, crouching low and listening. For from 
 behind me in the woods issued the low intonations 
 of conversing voices voices conversing in the Pot- 
 tawattamie tongue. But Pottawattamie was as fluent 
 in my command well-nigh, as was my English; 
 tutored as I had been by Moccasin. 
 
 They drew nearer, though not within coherent 
 range; and I recognized the one conducting the ma-
 
 110 ONAWAGO 
 
 jority of the conversation. It was striking and dif- 
 ferent from any other that I had ever known rather 
 soft for a man's, musical and tremulous, yet firm and 
 decisive, fluctuant as the owner's mood might be. 
 Just now it was a low, deep monotone. It belonged 
 to no other than Bruce Long. Bruce Long here! 
 And with whom! 
 
 I leaned far sidewise, eagerly straining to catch 
 their words. But I failed to discern the trend of 
 their discourse. And I slipped around the shock and 
 tried to see whom Long's companion might be, even 
 risking exposure of myself in the act. But they were 
 deep within the gloom of the trees and I was there- 
 upon unable to detect their persons among the shad- 
 ows. And afterwards I was heartily thankful that 
 they failed to notice me. 
 
 But as I watched, the talking ceased a moment. 
 Then suddenly a light flared in the darkness, flashing 
 full upon the faces of three men. Two of them I 
 instantly knew to be French-Canadian half-breeds. 
 The third was Bruce Long. He was lighting a cigar- 
 ette with a small blazing stick. I wondered deeply, 
 for it was the first match that I had ever seen. 
 
 It blazed an instant, then Long threw it aside, and 
 in the air it went out. All was black again. Only
 
 ONAWAGO 111 
 
 the red coal of the cigarette glowed and showed the 
 course they were taking. And they were coming 
 from the hills. My curiosity was highly aroused, and 
 I rued my disadvantage in being unable to distinguish 
 their words. 
 
 And I was still intent upon that cigarette coal 
 when "Who-wha-a-who!" from off toward the lake 
 broke in upon the mellow strains of Luxor's hunting- 
 song. And I, forming a cup of my palms and plac- 
 ing them to my mouth, hallooed back in answer 
 "Who-wha-a-who!" to Dick and Jean. For I knew 
 full sure it was Dick McCollister and Jean Ferrier, 
 my sole chums of the wilderness. They resided 
 three miles cross-cut to the south-east of us, our 
 nearest neighbors besides the Arnolds and old Moc- 
 casin in that slowly settling wild. And today it 
 seems a long way to have gone for neighbors, but 
 little did we actually think of it in those days. The 
 boys and I had arranged for a coon-hunt this night, 
 and I saw them by the feeble glimmer of the after- 
 glow, emerge from the woods and climbing the 
 old stake-and-rider fence, strike across-field in my 
 direction. 
 
 "Got 'em set a-goin' a'reedy, eh?" shouted Jean 
 as I went forward to meet them. "Perty fine music,
 
 112 ONAWAGO 
 
 thet. Great ol' voice I tell you. Soun's better'n a 
 dance-fiddle t' all cept the coon, I jedge." 
 
 "No 'coon there," I answered. 'That bay means 
 deer, or I miss my guess." 
 
 And straightway I was mindless of Bruce Long 
 and the two strangers. And straightway, willingly I 
 abandoned my shucking, and together we strolled 
 across the meadow over home. Supper had long 
 awaited me; but first I attended to my chores, then 
 hurriedly ate. And while I ate old Luxor's deep 
 strains drifted to us through the silent night and 
 through our open door and set our nerves a-tingle. 
 
 "Me 'n' Jean here sot it down ez what we warn't 
 goin' t' kill nary a deer this fall till snow flew," com- 
 mented Dick in his woods-bred drawl. "But I reckon 
 ez when a feller hears thet sort o' music he kinder 
 fergits his determination. S'posin* ez how thet's 
 mebbe a buck now, 'twouldn't do nary harm t' bring 
 him down. Eh, Jean?" 
 
 "There's not one bit of use, boys," I broke in, ob- 
 serving their uneasiness, "of waiting for me. The 
 deer is making right up the ravine between here and 
 Arnold's. If he has not already passed, you can get 
 the lead of him, and I will join you shortly." 
 
 "Wahl, we ain't jest likin' the idee o' rushin' ofFm
 
 ONAWAGO 113 
 
 you, but it's sartin and sure thet if he's a'ready past, 
 we won't kill him; 'n' nohow 'twon't do nary harm 
 t f try, I guess." 
 
 "Never mind about excusses," I replied off-hand. 
 "Hurry and luck to you. I'll be there too, as soon as 
 I've finished this grub." 
 
 "Jest shoot if y' can't find us," Jean called from 
 the door. "An' don't be long eatin'." 
 
 In due season I finished my supper, and snatch- 
 ing my rifle- father's old flint-lock and the powder- 
 horn and shot-pouch from the wall, was on the 
 point of leaving the house, when I noticed that 
 mother was watching me with marked degree of ap- 
 prehension. It had ever been thus. She feared the 
 gun and the woods, especially by night. And as 
 usual I went over to her, put an arm fondly about 
 her and kissed her tenderly. 
 
 "Never mind, mother," I said, "never mind. 
 I'll be back early, and maybe we'll have venison 
 tomorrow." 
 
 "Dave," she answered, and her voice was tender, 
 "Dave, I like not for you to hunt with those boys, 
 especially by night. I am afraid," she faltered. "I've 
 always been afraid and can't help it. It may be silly
 
 114 ONAWAGO 
 
 to feel this way about it, but, son-o-naine, I can't 
 help it." 
 
 "Why, mother, there is not the least danger. 
 Really there is not. And you know that we have 
 been out of meat for some time now, and we need 
 some badly. Do not compel me to go feeling guilty 
 because of going against your will. And so far as 
 the boys are concerned, there never lived two better 
 hearted fellows than Dick and Jean." 
 
 "But," and her words came hesitant, "Mr. 
 Arnold-." 
 
 "I know full well that Tom doesn't like them nor 
 ever has, for that matter. But many people Tom 
 doesn't like. It all depends upon whether he takes 
 a notion to a person or not, that's all. You know 
 he will not even tolerate little Mary here just because 
 she trampled down and plucked some of his buck- 
 wheat once because she wanted some posies. Tom's 
 a crank in some ways. And just because he dislikes 
 Dick and Jean because they accidentally shot that 
 fool calf, misjudging it for a deer, speaks nothing in 
 disfavor toward them." 
 
 "Yes, but don't you know that Bouncer was yes- 
 terday found dead with a bullet through him?" 
 
 "Found dead!" I gasped. "Where?"
 
 ONAWAGO 115 
 
 Bouncer was Martha's dog and I loved him almost 
 as my own, 
 
 "Found dead in the ravine woods. And Tom 
 thinks these very boys are guilty of his death." 
 
 "Then Tom's wrong, Mother. Dick and Jean 
 both thought a great deal of old Bouncer. Why, 
 just think how much we have hunted together with 
 him. And they have always been fond of him 
 just as fond of him as they are even of Luxor." 
 
 "You may be right, son, But do be careful, for 
 my sake, be awfully careful about shooting." 
 
 "I always am. Do not be concerned about me. 
 There is no danger, I assure you." 
 
 Mayhap I would have tarried to say more, but 
 the sharp crack of a rifle cut me short, and I hastened 
 from the house into the moon-lit night without. 
 
 Another rifle spoke, its booming report bounding 
 down the silence in long and lasting reverberations, 
 its muttering cadences slowly dying away into silence 
 in the forest across the lake. 
 
 I hurried, almost ran, to the woods, and thence 
 down into the ravine following the creek toward the 
 quarter whence the shots.
 
 116 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 A SHOT FROM THE DARK. 
 
 night was breathless. Strained stillness had 
 fallen upon the woods. Luxor's voice at the 
 second report had suddenly hushed. And not a 
 sound came there to direct me as I plodded along 
 the creek's devious way, striking downstream. The 
 sallow moon, still far to eastward, filtered her wan 
 beams down through the leafy covering of the woods 
 and her feeble rays fell in small blotches of light 
 upon the ground about me. 
 
 And I wandered on, perforce more slowly now, 
 hampered by this indistinct gloom about me, and 
 wondering at this sudden quiet. Then after a time, 
 far away, old Luxor's voice was raised in one long 
 mournful howl. And instantly I knew something 
 was wrong. And I sprang forward on the run, call- 
 ing loudly, but received no answer. Momentarily I 
 grew more apprehensive. Then as I hastened pre- 
 cipitately on, stumbling, staggering in the dark, and 
 continuously calling, my old dog sprang from out
 
 ONAWAGO 117 
 
 the gloom before me, and turning as quickly about, 
 led me on, straight out of the ravine and up into the 
 higher woods to a natural opening of the trees 
 where the moonlight streamed down in unobstructed 
 splendor. 
 
 And never shall I forget the sight of it all; how 
 old Luxor, running forward into the center of the 
 opening, paused beside something which lay at 
 length upon the ground; and I can again see his un- 
 gainly hound's body, char-black and glossy in the 
 moonlight and his long black tail drooped low see 
 him as he sank almost to earth, and his sleek, 
 ear-stubbed head raised toward the stars as he 
 poured forth his sorrow once again in his deep- 
 voiced, woeful wail, as though he well compre- 
 hended the significance of that which he guarded as 
 his licit own. 
 
 And I, for the moment, stood as one stricken 
 suddenly with paralysis, powerless to stir from my 
 tracks. And I could but vaguely discern that before 
 me; but even so, my brain swam, my blood chilled 
 and my hand involuntarily sought my eyes to shut 
 out the vision. For, in the center of the space, his 
 kindly face tuned upward to the bright moonlight, 
 lay my friend, and all but father (for in troth such
 
 118 ONAWAGO 
 
 had he been, fosterly, since the demise of mine 
 own), Thomas Arnold, dead! 
 
 I groaned aloud, and reeled backward, nigh unto 
 falling, dazed. But in reeling, a strong arm was 
 thrust about me, my rifle was wrenched quickly from 
 my grasp and I found as the shock of the surprise 
 wore off, that my hands had been deftly bound be- 
 hind me. I turned and faced Bruce Long. 
 
 He was shirt-sleeved and bare-headed. And he 
 was grim-visaged and self-collected. And for the 
 moment I could not find my tongue. I stood as 
 one suddenly precipitated into dark void, unable 
 to even grope for an explanation, and my faculties 
 seemed stupid and I could not think. 
 
 Then slowly I became aware of one other thing 
 became aware of one other presence besides Bruce. 
 And it was some little time ere I became, in a 
 blurred sort of way, fully assured that it was no 
 other than Moccasin. Then slowly as my mind 
 cleared, I wondered that he should assist Long in 
 this work. 
 
 But Bruce Long lost no time. He grasped me 
 by the shoulder and led me to one side. And he 
 indicated with a finger, where looking, I beheld
 
 ONAWAGO 119 
 
 upon the ground close to the edge of the clearing, 
 Dick and Jean, bound hand and foot. 
 
 "And you are in it too," he said with delibera- 
 tion. "I thought as much." 
 
 For the moment I made him no answer. Then 
 slowly a thought came to me. And as I spoke 
 I turned toward him. At my words I saw him 
 flinch; and I saw his face, pale as it was even then 
 in the wan moonlight, blanch lurid. 
 
 "Dick and Jean, I presume you mean, sir. But 
 where are your two accomplices, sir?" 
 
 But even as he paled he laughed lightly, care- 
 lessly. 
 
 "Surely, young Bundy, you are glib-tongued. 
 And what you may mean is far from me to under- 
 stand. You are shaken; you are shocked and your 
 speech does not convey your thoughts. My two 
 accomplices? Your two accomplices, you mean. 
 They are here before you. Are you blind in the 
 moonlight?" 
 
 And his manner was indicative of forced satire. 
 
 "Scarcely, sir," I answered. 
 
 He looked at me with narrowed lids. 
 
 "You are a fool!" he snapped sulkily. "Go lie 
 with the others!"
 
 120 ONAWAGO 
 
 And I, helpless as I was with my hands bound 
 behind me, was pushed suddenly backward by him, 
 and stumbling, fell to the earth. Ere I could re- 
 cover myself, he had wrapped a thong about my 
 ankles, and I, with the boys, lay powerless as they. 
 
 "Here, Moccasin, lend a hand," Long said as he 
 straightened up. Moccasin, obeying, they gath- 
 ered the body of Tom between them, and gravely 
 they carried it homeward, Luxor following; while 
 we three, lying there in the silvery moonlight, were 
 logs in our bondage, and as such, scarce wondered 
 at the strangeness of it all. 
 
 "Dave," at length whispered Jean. 
 
 "What," I answered. 
 
 "What d' yer s'pose it all means, anyhow?" 
 
 "It means," I replied pointedly, "it means that 
 we three are murderers." 
 
 "Murderers?" he repeated, in a voice of mystifi- 
 cation. 
 
 "Yes; that you and Dick and I have killed Tom 
 Arnold." 
 
 "Killed Tom Arnold? Why, Dave, yer jokin'. 
 We didn't hurt Tom. He shot hisself." 
 
 "That remains to be proved. Tell me about it." 
 
 In a poor sort of way I was but trying their metal.
 
 ONAWAGO 121 
 
 "Yer don't mean it, Dave," broke in Dick. 
 "Course yer only jokin'. Really yer don't mean 
 that ye believe we killed Tom, d'yer?" 
 
 "Believing or no, looks as though you did it." 
 
 "Why, Dave, we war a talkin'. He war tellin' 
 us ter git off 'n his land." 
 
 "Thought so," I commented. 
 
 "N s we 'as goin' t' git off when the buck come 
 erlong. We both o' us fired." 
 
 "I did not," growled Jean, querulously. 
 
 "I hearn yer shoot jest arter me." 
 
 "Twa'n't me though," affirmed Jean. 
 
 "Then who the devil war it?" 
 
 "Can't say; twa'n't me though. 'Twar behind 
 
 me." 
 
 "From behind you?" I exclaimed incredulously. 
 "Yea, from the dark," answered Jean. 
 "Was Long with Arnold?" I next asked. 
 "Didn't see nothin' o' him." 
 "And where was Moccasin?" 
 "Him neither. He must 'a' been with Long, I 
 guess. Leastways they two ketched us." 
 "Caught you? Why, did you run?" 
 "Dick did to the deer. I stayed thar with Tom.
 
 122 ONAWAGO 
 
 I saw him ez he keeled over, an' I grabbed him ez 
 he sprawled. Jest while I war aholt o' him yit, they 
 two ketched me. Then they got Dick while he war 
 a-cuttin' the buck's throat'" 
 
 "But who fired the second shot, Jean?" 
 
 "Thet war the one from the dark. Came jest 
 arter Dick's." 
 
 "Where's your gun, Jean?" 
 
 "Lyin' over thar, I reckon, jest whar I left it- 
 over thar whar Arnold war a-layin'." 
 
 I commenced wrestling with my thongs. An 
 idea had come to me. Could I but procure Jean's 
 gun, I could verify his statements and satisfy nay 
 doubts concerning the affair, in this one phase at 
 least. But even as I strove to free myself, I heard 
 indistinctly a whispered "Dave" from the gloom, 
 and I knew it was Martha's voice. 
 
 "Here I am, Martha," I answered. 
 
 And I heard the rustle of her dress as she came 
 nearer. As she came to me I saw her catch her 
 breath in surprise, and, as she bent above me, I saw 
 her face was tearful; her checked sobbing was aud- 
 ible in the over-wrought stillness. 
 
 "Moccasin told me you were here, Dave. He
 
 ONAWAGO 123 
 
 said as he did the other night, 'The track still lies in 
 the forest/ but I don't know what he means." 
 
 Stooping over me she unsheathed my knife, and, 
 as with an effort, I turned to my side, she cut my 
 thongs, and then those about my ankles; I stood 
 free, and for the next moment hesitated. But not 
 so Martha. Instantly she was at the side of Dick and 
 she cut his thongs as she had mine; then in turn 
 Jean's, and they stood with me, rubbing their smart- 
 ing and aching limbs where the bonds had cruelly 
 bound. 
 
 Thus she spoke as she came over and resheathed 
 my knife in my belt, saying: "Dave, you are at lib- 
 erty now. If you would remain so, do not come to 
 the house do not meddle with Bruce Long. He is 
 infuriated. Serious results will come of it. They 
 will return here shortly for you, and you had better 
 leave immediately." Then ere I could remonstrate 
 or detain her, with a lowly mumble, "Remember 
 Moccasin says: 'The track still lies in the forest,' and 
 she was gone like a shadow dissolving into the 
 nightly shades. 
 
 Still I stood, experiencing a state of semi-compre- 
 hension of the things that had transpired about me.
 
 124 ONAWAGO 
 
 I brushed a hand across my eyes as though to clear 
 my vision and my thoughts, exerting myself to rally 
 to immediate action. I was brought to full concious- 
 ness by Jean. 
 
 While I went for mine, he strode over to his gun. 
 It lay exactly where it had fallen from his grasp when 
 he had sprung to Arnold's assistance. He secured 
 it, brought it to me, and I, inspecting the priming, 
 found the load still intact. I smelt of the muzzle. 
 Obviously it had not been fired since last cleaning. 
 
 Whence then that second shot? 
 
 I spoke first. 
 
 "Notwithstanding Martha's advice, boys, it seems 
 to me our place is to go straight up to the house and 
 stand our ground. It is all bad enough as it is, but it 
 may be worse. There are three of us should affairs 
 come to it against two; and I'm pretty certain of 
 Moccasin. What say you, Dick?" 
 
 "Not for mine/' he grumbled. "I'm goin' home 
 jest ez quick ez I can get thar." 
 
 "And you, Jean?" 
 
 "Ner me neither. I'm fer home, too." 
 
 "Come, then," I answered, and struck into the 
 woods, intent homeward. The boys followed, me-
 
 ONAWAGO 
 
 125 
 
 chanically, silently, close areai, u 
 
 l-liaqyj]y 
 
 along, their dogged conduct expressive of their utter 
 mystification of the whole affair, as in troth, was I 
 also.
 
 126 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 AN UNSPRUNG TRAP OF NATURE. 
 
 TNTERSECTING our place from Arnold's, wound 
 -*- the creek! Its ravine still lay heavily timbered, 
 not a stick of the primeval having been felled except 
 where our private road-way cut its passage. On 
 either slope of the ravine a cut in the hill had been 
 necessary for the road with a small "fill" at the 
 bottom; while on either side of the creek-bed for 
 some twenty yards, "corduroy" had been resorted to 
 on account of the unstable quality of the soil a soft 
 ooze popularly termed "quagmire." Spanning the 
 stream a rude bridge of cedar logs the size of fence- 
 posts, rendered precarious crossing. 
 
 'Twas here at this road that I bade the boys good- 
 night, as they betook themselves on homeward, pur- 
 suing the ravine's devious route, thence around the 
 lake and cross-cut on a ticklish trail the remainder of 
 the way. Upon their departure I went down to the 
 creek bridge and lingered there, gazing meditatively 
 down into the sluggish flow, revolving over and over
 
 ONAWAGO 127 
 
 in my mind the occurrences of the last hour. I 
 brooded morbidly upon them. I could come to no 
 decision upon any feature. What could be the basis 
 for such complicated enigma? Whence that second 
 shot? I stood and puzzled. Then I remembered 
 Bruce Long's two strangers. 
 
 I seated myself upon the edge of the bridge. 
 About me as I sat there and along the narrow vista 
 of the roadway, the bright moonlight streamed down 
 coldly, but within the surrounding forest it struggled 
 uncertainly through the luxuriant foliage, rendering 
 naught therein definite in detail. The gloom of the 
 trees seemed haunted with dusky-shrouded appari- 
 tions stealthily wandering about wavering shadow- 
 ghosts of departed sylvan life. And now and anon 
 I turned a half-questioning glance into its barrier, 
 somehow expectant of something lurking within its 
 concealment. 
 
 From shortly down-stream where the flow gurgled 
 through an obstruction of brush-drift and leaves, the 
 gentle droning of water softly rippled with pleasant 
 volubility through the reigning quietude the only 
 continuous interruption upon the nightly silence. 
 Frequently from over on the ravine slope the hushed 
 sublimity of the moon-lit night would be broken by
 
 128 ONAWAGO 
 
 the fall-drumming of a hen partridge. No nocturnal 
 voice of the wild was lifted in the placid tranquility, 
 and only the strident scrapping of a single katydid 
 from a nearby branch announced the approach of 
 winter. 
 
 Suddenly the bark of a fox was answered by the 
 howl of a wolf. I became alert. I looked to the 
 priming of my gun. Then as all subsided once more 
 into silence, I divined it naught but a co-incidence of 
 the wilderness; and thereupon resumed my train of 
 meditation. 
 
 I was moodily inclined to-night and melancholy. 
 And well so, since the harrowing incidents of the 
 final hour. I was of no mind to go home and 
 inform mother of the sad news. Every hour now 
 was an hour of grace. For how should I ever 
 manage a plausible explanation how account for 
 Tom's death? Tell her that the boys the boys she 
 had repeatedly warned me against had deliberately 
 become murderers? Oh, no. The very thought 
 was repulsive. Or, was I able, with my poor gifts of 
 colloquy to plead sufficiently their cause to turn her 
 prejudiced convictions and by recounting my nigh 
 groundless fears and suspicions, divert them into
 
 ONAWAGO 129 
 
 other source? I regarded it impossible and I de- 
 ferred the compulsory hour. 
 
 A muskrat floated from under the bridge beneath 
 me and on down current, causing scarce a ripple in 
 its passage. And as I watched it swing from sight 
 around a bend just below again the bark of a fox 
 was answered by the howl of a wolf nearer now, 
 one just over where the grouse had but ended her 
 prolonged drum-roll; the other just to the left on the 
 opposite hillside. 
 
 I stood up. Surely it was extraordinary for a fox 
 to call a wolf. 
 
 Again sounded a repetition of the cries now 
 from each side of me; and I, glancing toward the 
 block of opening at the road-cut in the hill, beheld 
 the figure of a man outlined distinctly against the 
 moon's brilliancy, standing at the brow of the slope. 
 I turned about and looked behind me. A second 
 man stood at the opposite opening. 
 
 I was trapped; on either side of me, as I have 
 previously stated, on either bank of the creek, the 
 ground was treacherous to the foot. And the stream 
 itself at this point was wide and shallow, impossible 
 for swimming, and flowed over a bed of soft muck, 
 more treacherous than quicksand, and almost bottom-
 
 130 ONAWAGO 
 
 less. Plots such as these abound in these regions and 
 full well the resident realizes his jeopardy upon ven- 
 turing into such a one. 
 
 Verily I was trapped. 
 
 The corduroy alone provided an escape and to 
 traverse it, I must needs walk some twenty yards 
 toward one or the other of these men these men, 
 one in attitude and position the replica of the other 
 and whom I readily deduced from their bulky phy- 
 siques, to be no other than Long's strangers. 
 
 I considered all this in the lapse of a couple of 
 seconds. Apprehensively and noiselessly I drew 
 back the hammer of my gun, careful to avoid a be- 
 traying click of the lock, and at the same time, I ex- 
 amined the state of the priming. 
 
 I glanced up again toward the man at the east- 
 ward opening of the road. He was not there! I 
 turned to the other. He also had vanished! 
 
 I was at a loss, more taken aback and surprised 
 at this mysterious disappearance than I had been at 
 their sudden appearance. 
 
 Then I descried something large and black in the 
 road at the base of the cut. 
 
 Could I have dreamed, or had I experienced a 
 chimera of my inherited idiosyncrasy?
 
 ONAWAGO 131 
 
 Luxor alone was coming, trotting leisurely down 
 the road toward me. Then with him beside me, I 
 continued my way home. Mother had retired when 
 I arrived. I was thankful. She would rest better 
 this night, unapprised of the events of the evening.
 
 132 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 THE BARRELLESS FLINT-LOCK MUSKET. 
 
 O ATURDAY morn broke clear and calm after a 
 ^ wakeful night on my part. I was up ere dawn 
 and through with my chores before the day had 
 fairly begun. But I dreaded mother's call to break- 
 fast, for I had determined upon telling her the sad 
 news and upon trying my utmost to effect an ac- 
 knowledgment of her belief in Dick's and Jean's in- 
 nocence. 
 
 So when at last her summons came, I went with- 
 out delay. But I could not force myself to eat; 
 gently she chided me. Then I broke down utterly 
 and the meal ended right there. 
 
 How I carried through a citation of it all, I re- 
 member not, but well I know that she would not 
 bear me corroboration in my individual opinions of 
 the case, and vehemently, though tearfully, declared 
 the guilt of the boys. And I refrained from speak- 
 ing of Long's mysterious strangers and the queer 
 transactions in connection with them. Yet I made
 
 ONAWAGO 133 
 
 it a point to acclaim strongly my certainty of Bruce 
 Long being underneath the whole affair, but I could 
 wring no vow from her of such belief, although I had 
 told her that I had already resolved upon privately 
 ferreting out the matter and promised to tell her all, 
 even to the most minute circumstance within my 
 knowledge. 
 
 At length our discourse closed, and together we 
 went over to Arnold's. We found all depressed 
 there and the shadow of the presence of death upon 
 the household. For myself. I spoke not a word of 
 solace to anyone, for I was in no mood to soothe. 
 
 I left mother there, and with my axe, took my- 
 self to work my self-imposed work of splitting pine 
 slabs for the rude coffin in which to lay to rest my 
 paternal friend. I went out into the woods and 
 felled the tree. Straightway I began my toilsome 
 and tedious task. I labored the entire morning with 
 heavy heart. And as I worked 'twas yet early 
 I saw Bruce Long saddle his horse and ride away on 
 the road to Barterville. Well I divined what his 
 mission might be. 
 
 During the slow trend of the morning, one by 
 one the rough boards were hewn and laid aside for 
 planing, so that when the dinner hour drew nigh, I
 
 134 ONAWAGO 
 
 had neared the completion of my task. During the 
 entire morning it was with a peculiar sense of uneas- 
 iness that I worked, because, strangely, at intervals I 
 experienced the uncanny sensations of one being 
 watched. And therefore I kept untiring vigilance, 
 striving if possible to learn whom this unseen trailer 
 of mine might be. 
 
 I was working at the edge of the woods, not far 
 from last night's tragic scene. Perhaps these self- 
 same whereabouts prompted my demure medita- 
 tions, for I brooded heavily upon the unpromising 
 state of affairs, until at times I became scarce alive to 
 my present self and surroundings until suddenly 
 unwholesome chilling sensations would begin to 
 creep along my cringing spine and settle at the base 
 of my scalp. My hair would seem to rise and the 
 roots to stiffen. Then I would rest my axe, straighten 
 up, and glance apprehensively about me, 
 
 At the insistence of one of these monitions, as I 
 glanced about me, my attention became attracted by 
 a slight disturbance in the leaves close behind me; 
 I wheeled instantly, just in time to catch a glimpse of 
 a huge timber wolf slinking away among the trees. 
 I rued my thoughtlessness in leaving my rifle at 
 home.
 
 ONAWAGO 135 
 
 I turned again to my work. 
 
 Thenceforward I worked undisturbed; and al- 
 though I kept keen vigilance for the animal's reap- 
 pearance, nothing occurred. At length, the sun hav- 
 ing climbed to its meridian, the conch sounded, and 
 I started homeward for dinner. 
 
 But scarce had I gone a hundred yards, when 
 behind a scrub oak on the margin of the clearing, I 
 descried the huge wolf crouched flat upon the ground. 
 I stopped and looked at it. The head seemed 
 shrunken, out of all proportion; its crouching pos- 
 ture was comically grotesque; its limbs were absurdly 
 large, and worst of all, it had no eyes whatever 
 simply two cavities, that gave it a loathsome stare. 
 But as I looked, from back within the depths of those 
 eye-cavities, I caught the gleam of a true eye. 
 
 I was close upon it. And while I paused to ob- 
 serve it, I could not suppress a smile at such a gro- 
 tesque ruse. As I stood there the thing moved, 
 slouched forward a pace, arose on all fours, stretched, 
 and suddenly reared onto its hinders, a creature so 
 strangely horrible that I could not but recoil before it. 
 
 Even as I recoiled, evincing my abhorrence, I 
 distinguished a guttural laugh from beneath the skin,
 
 136 ONAWAGO 
 
 whereat the skin opened its length, fell back, and 
 from its disguise stood forth Moccasin! 
 
 His bronzed body was bare above the waist. His 
 long white hair was braided tight, and one strand fell 
 across his naked shoulder, whose muscular linea- 
 ments evinced no semblance of decrepitude. His 
 moccasins of deer-skin came up well over his ankles, 
 being bound tightly about the calves with thongs of 
 raw-hide. In all, he was striking in appearance as 
 he stood there disrobed before me, quietly laughing 
 to himself at my discomfiture, and even in the sur- 
 prise of the moment, I could but admire him. 
 
 Quickly his mirth vanished and a strange light 
 came to his dark eye. He advanced toward me with 
 the single word, "follow," upon his lips, and turning 
 sidewise, led me back among the trees. 
 
 I kept close beside him and as he walked, -he 
 muttered beneath his breath that strange warning he 
 had last given to Martha: 'The track still lies in the 
 forest." Besides that one sentence, he remained 
 silent. It was some distance in the forest that he 
 finally brought up at the hollow of a lightning-pros- 
 trated tree. He reached thereinto and grasping 
 something, drew it forth the self-same one I had
 
 ONAWAGO 137 
 
 one night seen as a child the barrelless flint-lock 
 musket! 
 
 He haned it to me, and, examining it, I found it 
 had been recently fired. The inside of the. barrel 
 was yet moist with the undried residuum from the 
 powder. 
 
 "Where did you get this, Moccasin?" I inquired 
 in Pottawattamie. 
 
 In reply he, pointed with an arm off toward the 
 quarter whence last night's tragedy. 
 
 "A son of the great warrior, Chief Topinabe, does 
 not sleep when the warpath is open. Rather, he 
 prowles the woods with the skulking wolves, and 
 they know him as one of themselves. But the time 
 is not ripe for him to tell what he has seen. 'The 
 track still lies in the forest'." 
 
 He turned quickly from me, and glided nois- 
 lessly away in that easy, swinging lope peculiar to 
 his people. 
 
 Instantly I realized that I held in my hand that 
 which, from the present outlook of affairs, might 
 prove invaluable, should matters come to a crisis, 
 which I thought they surely would. Here was evi- 
 dence. Here was something worthy of consideration 
 a thing nevertheless wrapt in mystery and scarce
 
 138 ONAWAGO 
 
 explainable, although I knew full well from whence 
 it came, though what proof I might produce to that 
 effect I could not foresee. Leastwise I would treasure 
 the thing. 
 
 After Moccasin left me, I immediately struck 
 homeward, and followed the wooded ravine to 
 where the road from Barterville crossed the creek 
 the same place of my strange vision of Long's 
 strangers last night in the moonlight. 
 
 Even as I walked along the corduroy, Bruce 
 Long himself, mounted upon his spirited animal 
 brought from the East, galloped down from the op- 
 posite slope of the road. 
 
 I carried the flint-lock. As he bore down upon 
 me at goodly speed, I noticed him start, surprised, 
 upon the recognition of it, and he drew up close be- 
 fore me and spoke imperiously : 
 
 "What the deuce are you doing with that weap- 
 on, young Bundy? Is it your property? 
 
 "No," I answered tersely, "nor is it yours." 
 
 He looked at me contemptuously. 
 
 "Then I presume you found it in the woods." 
 
 "I was not its finder," I announced inanely. 
 "But I'll manage to be its keeper." 
 
 "I advise you to throw it away," he answered
 
 ONAWAGO 139 
 
 condescendingly. "The thing possesses an evil 
 charm. It will bring you no good. Take my advice 
 and throw it away. Throw it in the creek." 
 
 "From whence you will at once fish it out," I 
 retorted. 
 
 "I tell you, Bundy, the thing's damned," he con- 
 tinued disregarding my retort. "You had better take 
 my advice. Never has it brought a man good since 
 the day its barrel was filed off." 
 
 "But I dare say it served a woman," I returned 
 pointedly. 
 
 "Of course, Bundy, you recognize the thing. I'll 
 wot you remember it well, and all else that occurred 
 upon your introducation to it. I'm full sure I do 
 myself. But you scarce may know from whence the 
 thing itself first came. Mayhap you've heard of the 
 siege of Detroit, away back in the last century. 
 Well, Bundy, that gun, that curst thing of evil charm 
 there in your hand, belonged to no other than the 
 mighty Pontiac himself. It failed him. And it is 
 curst, damned by the Otter himself, and I advise you 
 again to dispose of it without further delay. There 
 are more reasons than one. And you'd better take 
 my word. The thing's 'bad medicine'." 
 
 He rode forward, and disappeared over the brow 
 of the road-cut hill.
 
 140 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 THE WARNING 
 
 T BETOOK myself home to dinner. But before 
 -*- eating I fed the team, and, at the same time, hid 
 the musket beneath the hay. It was during the meal 
 that mother mentioned the fact that Bruce Long had 
 passed and shortly afterward repassed the house 
 during the afternoon. 
 
 I told her I had met him in the ravine. 
 
 "And where did he seem to be going?" I in- 
 quired, without apparent interest. 
 
 "To the hills," she answered. 
 
 A thought was mine. 
 
 The road to Barterville had terminus at our very 
 door. No further extension of the road, or in fact, 
 any other road, penetrated to the hills. Solely 
 might he reach them by riding through the woods. 
 And whyfore, in the first place, should he go the 
 hills? Here rooted my quandary. Furthermore, 
 why not, if possible, find out his mission to the hills? 
 Follow the hoof-prints of his horse and thereby, at
 
 ONAWAGO 141 
 
 least, discover whither he had gone. This I deter- 
 mined to act upon, but I remained silent as to my 
 intentions. 
 
 Immediately following dinner I repaired again to 
 my labors of the morning. It proved but mid-after- 
 noon when I, completing the task, went over home, 
 took the team and hauled the rough boards home, 
 in order to construct the rude coffin. 
 
 It was while I was hauling them, that, as I passed 
 Arnold's, Bruce Long came out to me. 
 
 "I'm sorry, Bundy, that you've put yourself to all 
 this needless inconvenience," and he indicated con- 
 temptuously the boards of my hewing. "The folks 
 might have known that I would order a fitting casket 
 built in town, and have told you as much instead of 
 submitting to your generous offer of constructing 
 such a crude thing as these would make. But I as- 
 sure you, none the less, that we appreciate your kind 
 and thoughtful endeavors in our behalf. The casket 
 will arrive in due season for the funeral tomorrow 
 afternoon. I presume you shall come to the funeral 
 even though your two chums your two accomplices 
 may not be allowed to come. They were arrested 
 this morning.
 
 142 GNAW AGO 
 
 I was scarce surprised, for I had anticipated the 
 matter. 
 
 "And pray why not myself as well as they?" I 
 demanded. 
 
 "You shall undoubtedly, sir, be included, in 
 time," he admitted suavely. 
 
 "Mr. Long," I spoke conciliatory, "you are per- 
 fectly aware that you have the high hand in this 
 case, and that as yet I have but an almost groundless 
 suspicion, let alone any proof. But I dare advise 
 you that you must needs stake your cards high and 
 play them shrewdly, lest, the will itself by circum- 
 stantial evidence alone, together with what evidence 
 I shall procure, shall thrust this crime upon your 
 shoulders. A few days may see a change in the 
 state of affairs from what they are now." 
 
 A smile flitted across his face and his eye kindled 
 pleasantly. 
 
 "Dave," he said, amiably, "I see no cause for ill- 
 feeling between us. We lived long as neighbors, 
 years ago, and I have come again to be your neigh- 
 bor. Moreover, you are to be Martha's husband, 
 and we, in a sense, are related. By-the-bye, I would 
 like to make you a proposition respecting this case, 
 a proposition advantageous to us both. Could I
 
 ONAWAGO 143 
 
 trust you to forever remain silent respecting what I 
 shall say? Here, I have purposely brought the word 
 of God with me for this very occasion. Do you 
 now swear to heaven upon this book that you will 
 consider this conference never to be revealed either 
 in part or whole? Do you vow to consider it invio- 
 late?" 
 
 "No, sir, I do not," I asservated. "I see no 
 reason for such sublime action on your part. Further- 
 more, Mr. Long, I entertain no desire to deal with 
 you in any way. I may as well drive on." 
 
 "Dave," he began afresh, as though reluctant to 
 allow me to leave, "through your folly, then, my 
 proposal comes to naught. You may have occasion 
 to rue this headstrong action of yours," and he step- 
 ped closer and rested an arm upon the wagon box. 
 Still he was his indomitable self, dauntless, expedient 
 and intriguing. 
 
 "Dave," he continued, "do you remember when 
 you were still a boy, that one dark, stormy night you 
 were stolen from your bed and conducted you knew 
 not whither? Do you remember an old woman 
 that night an old Indian woman an old Indian 
 medicine doctor old Indian Onawago? Do you 
 remember her incantation, in which the words she
 
 144 ONAWAGO 
 
 taught me ran in part thus: 'Mighty, Marvelous, 
 Mystic, Magic, Bloody, Wierd, Peculiar, Tragic!" 
 
 "Well, Dave, you shall soon see the interpreta- 
 tion of these words unless you accede to my propo- 
 sition. No, you still affirm? Very well, then, re- 
 member one thing that her last word was Tragic.' ' 
 
 Thereupon, Bruce turned brusquely and strode 
 toward the Arnold house. 
 
 As I drove the remainder of my way home I 
 wondered what measures Bruce Long would now 
 take and would it be possible for me to compete 
 with him and frustrate aught that he might contrive 
 to bring against the boys and myself? 
 
 What had been his game? Was it to delude me 
 by his parry at goodwill with a thrust at friendship? 
 lure my private convictions from me and then 
 pounce upon me by clutching the situation and con- 
 tradicting my suppositions and knowledge of the 
 case by some trickery capable of only his invention? 
 As I unharnessed the team and stabled them, I was 
 thankful I had revealed nothing to anyone. 
 
 Also, I determined to follow Bruce's trail to the 
 hills without further delay.
 
 ONAWAGO 145 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 THE "BIG MEDICINE" OF TOPINABE. 
 
 T WENT forthwith to the house, took down my 
 * old flint-lock and powder-horn from the wall, 
 thrust a few bullets into my pocket, called Luxor, 
 and together we started, first, to find, if possible, 
 Moccasin. 
 
 Over by the lake I went to Moccasin's lodge, but 
 did not find him. Thence down the heavily wooded 
 ravine of the drainage creek I strolled, amid the 
 dreamy semi-twilight that perpetually reigned there 
 in dusky languor underneath the dense foliage of the 
 hardwood forest. I could not help but loiter, care- 
 less and carefree, for it was the time of aught but the 
 hush and calm of the woodland solitude, October's 
 blessed calm, the only perfect calm of earth. My 
 distracted spirits imbibed this calm, and for nigh an 
 hour, we loitered, old Luxor thrashing sportively in 
 advance, nosing and alert in expectancy of some 
 forest denizen. But nothing gave him chase. 
 
 At length we came to the confluence of the
 
 146 ONAWAGO 
 
 two streams from the twin lakes, where they join 
 shortly above the beaver dam. It was sandy in the 
 stream's bed at the junction, the sand having washed 
 in during the spring freshets and collected there, 
 forming a bar several yards in breadth. 
 
 'Twas here at the junction that I found a seat up- 
 on a wind-fallen log. Old Luxor crouched close by 
 my side, his nose resting between his stretched paws, 
 his large hazel-brown eyes ever open and watchful. 
 His ear-stubs twitched upon any slight wood's dis- 
 turbance, and his nostrils inhaled and exhaled the 
 aroma of the forest. 
 
 Close before us the creek swept sluggishly along. 
 Its flow so sluggish that scarce a babble it voiced ex- 
 cept where it curled about some obstructions of 
 brush-growth or log. From shortly down its course 
 drifted the distance-drowned droning of water 
 where it hurtled over the beaver dam. While faint- 
 ly, the silvery, bell-like twinkle of a little spring 
 as it trickled down from the hillside, softly sang in 
 the stillness. 
 
 Heavily and with drowsy dullness, the muffled 
 drumming of a grouse throbbed its pulsations which 
 accelerated rapidly into a rolling whirr. Here and 
 there, amid the autumnal tawny-yellow of the beech,
 
 ONAWAGO 147 
 
 a jay's gay plumage would flash, while his shrill, stri- 
 dent jeer would answer some jabbering brother, both 
 meanwhile engaged, like ruthless marauders, in dis- 
 lodging the beech-nut. Now and then the lugubri- 
 ous caw of a crow would jar with nerve grating dis- 
 sonance upon the placid quietude; while the mur- 
 muring discourse of innumberable creepers varied 
 with the occasional sweetness from the bubbling 
 throat of a warbler, afforded constant music to me, 
 the listener and lover of it all. 
 
 Suddenly old Luxor growled. I reached over 
 and laid hold of him to keep him down. A moment 
 more and I beheld the object of his mistrust. It was 
 Moccasin. 
 
 He was wading amid-stream, working gradually 
 toward us down the creek from the farther lake. 
 His powerful stature stopped low; his eyes scrutiniz- 
 ed the left bank of the stream. I commanded Luxor 
 to be quiet and sat without apprising Moccasin of my 
 whereabouts, curious to know the cause of his be- 
 havior. As usual, in the warmer months, he was 
 stripped of all except the waist-cloth and moccasins; 
 even these latter were lacking, perhaps because of 
 his wading. 
 
 On a sudden he stooped and reaching down,
 
 148 ONAWAGO 
 
 pressed his fingers into some indentation in the leaf 
 mold of the creek-bank. I heard him mutter low to 
 himself; then he saw me watching him. 
 
 "What is it, Moccasin?" I asked. 
 
 In answer he beckoned with silent gesture. I 
 arose and went over to him. He pointed at the 
 ground. Although I examined closely, I discerned 
 nothing further than mere leaf-mold and a few scat- 
 tered newly fallen leaves. I said as much to Moc- 
 casin, whereupon he motioned for me to follow him 
 to the afore mentioned sand bar at the conjunction 
 of the two currents. There I saw distinctly in the 
 moist sand, prints that were strangely baffling im- 
 pressions the size of a large bear track flat, disk- 
 shaped, and of uniform dimensions. They trailed 
 close upon one another, and it was plainly obvious 
 that the creature of these marks had been neither 
 biped nor quadruped. The forward prints had close 
 beside them two identical others, making altogether 
 four, while close arear were two other prints where- 
 upon the unknown creature of this sign without 
 doubt walked upon six feet! 
 
 "The Son of my Brother sees before him 'the 
 track that lies in the forest'," solemnly spoke the 
 Indian.
 
 ONAWAGO 149 
 
 Withal I was wholly at a lose to account for 
 them. Hitherto I had been prone to consider light- 
 ly Moccasin's time and again repeated statement that 
 this strange track was in the forest. I had even gone 
 so far as to frame in my mind its origin. But now I 
 knew my recent suppositions completely wrong. 
 What creature of earth should travel with such a sign 
 as this, very closely resembling wicker work? Be- 
 sides, what animal of the northern woods was invest- 
 ed with six feet and travelled in a gallop, that is, half 
 leaping, half running; as was evidenced by the 
 very short distance between these track-series. 
 
 I puzzled deeply, as I stood staring abstractedly 
 down upon that strange trail. But Moccasin waited 
 not for my quadary to end. Instead, he continued 
 down-stream, working along the creek bank with his 
 instinctive sixth sense, or so a sixth sense it seemed 
 to me, for on my part I might distinguish nothing 
 where he could practically follow without the 
 slighest difficulty. 
 
 I endeavored to have Luxor follow the trail, but 
 without success. The scent was cold. And after a 
 little, Moccasin having gone a goodly distance, I left 
 the sand bar and accompanied him down stream. 
 We halted at the beaver dam while Moccasin at-
 
 150 ONAWAGO 
 
 tended several snares he had set at the place. A 
 beaver was in one of the traps the trap being a 
 primitive one bait and noose affair, contrived so as 
 to let the animal seek water and thereby drown. He 
 took the beaver from the trap and at once began to 
 skin it in order not to be obliged to carry the weighty 
 carcass. While thus engaged, I questioned him 
 rather sharply. 
 
 "How did it happen that you were with Bruce 
 Long last night, Moccasin?" I asked in Potta- 
 wattamie. 
 
 He answered characteristically. 
 
 "How does it happen that the Son of my Brother 
 today is on the path of the unknown when a Potta- 
 watamie also is upon the path of the unknown?" 
 
 "That is not explaining to me how you happened 
 to be with Bruce Long," I returned. 
 
 "In the same way it happened that a Pottawatamie 
 last night was on the path of a deer. So it happened 
 that a paleface from the city was upon the same path. 
 The three of them talked while they waited the com- 
 of the deer. While they waited suddenly they heard 
 voices voices which they knew voices which were 
 distasteful to the one paleface who is now dead. He 
 went from the Pottawatamie and the paleface from
 
 ONAWAGO 151 
 
 the city, to where the voices sounded. The war song 
 of my Brother's dog grew louder and louder. The 
 Pottawatamie and the paleface from the city heard a 
 gun speak then followed the speaking of another 
 gun. The Son of my Brother himself saw what 
 followed." 
 
 "Then I take it for truth that you yourself was 
 with Bruce Long when Tom was shot. Did Bruce 
 have a gun with him?" 
 
 "If the paleface from the city had possessed a gun 
 there would have been no prisoners taken." 
 
 "You mean that he would have killed Dick and 
 Jean ? I doubt not the same result. But 'tis a 
 wonder to me he had not some weapon upon his 
 person. I remember he usually carried a pistol when 
 a boy." 
 
 "There was but one paleface rifle that spoke," 
 continued the Indian. "The other half was pistol." 
 
 "I know," I added. "Did Bruce, so far as you 
 could see, Moccasin, show any sign that he expected 
 this thing to occur?" 
 
 "Does the rock show when it is to burst? or the 
 tree show when it is to fall?" he answered, with quiet 
 reserve. Neither do they who dwell within the
 
 152 ONAWAGO 
 
 great cities of the paleface show that which they 
 think." 
 
 "But even so, Moccasin, do you not think that 
 Long is at the bottom of this business?" 
 
 "The palefaces of the cities are serpents; their 
 tongues are forked; they strike when not seen; they 
 glide noiselessly to where they go; no eye traces 
 their path, nor sees them hid among the leaves and 
 grasses; no one may learn their ways; no one can 
 tell where they may next coil, and their bite is 
 death." 
 
 "You think, I dare say, even as I do. But what 
 else do you know, Moccasin? Have you ferreted 
 out anything further since last night? I'll warrant 
 you did not play the wolf today for nothing." 
 
 Heretofore he had answered me while busied 
 with his fur. But having now finished his task, he 
 arose from his knees, the pelt in his left hand, my 
 knife which he had borrowed for the occasion, in the 
 other. And upon my questioning, he drew himself 
 proudly to his full height, facing me, out-held the 
 beaver skin on his left arm while with the knife still 
 bloody with the skinning, aloft in his right, he ad- 
 dressed me solemly, speaking loudly though slowly 
 and with grave emphasis:
 
 ONAWAGO 153 
 
 "The Son of my Brother needs a medicine. He 
 needs it very much. He needs it that harm may not 
 come to him. The beaver is the wisest of the Great 
 Manitou's many children. The beaver's spirit is the 
 biggest medicine of all. The Son of my Brother 
 needs the spirit of the beaver. It shall be his. So 
 sayeth Shakwaukskuk, the son of Topinabe. It shall 
 be so."
 
 154 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 THE COMPACT WITH MOCCASIN. 
 
 A N hour later, Moccasin and I, together, stood 
 *~*- beside the creek where it left the open timber 
 and slunk away, as it were, into the dark seclusion of 
 Indian Hollow, whose low-growing entanglement of 
 vegetation constituted a veritable barrier to our further 
 progress. The soft ground at our feet was trampled 
 with hoof-prints, where a horse unmistakably had 
 been tethered to a sycamore sapling that grew on the 
 creek's bank. Also there were human footprints 
 prints of moccasined feet and prints from a sole and 
 heel. 
 
 Bruce, 'twas self-evident, had left his horse here 
 this morning, and proceeded on foot into the hol- 
 low, although, forsooth, I could not discover a path 
 by which he could have entered. It was a certainty 
 that one would be obliged to carve a passage through 
 that tangle of vines and ivies that twisted themselves 
 throughout the density of summack, buttonwood, 
 alders and spice-brush, with occasionally a patch of
 
 ONAWAGO 155 
 
 the well-nigh impassable elbow-brush blocking one's 
 way. 
 
 "Well, Moccasin," I said, in no gentle tone, "I'm 
 heartily sorry that you're a coward, for only a cow- 
 ard would refuse to follow these men's track into the 
 undergrowth. Had I but the gift such as you have, 
 of tracking where a white man cannot see any evi- 
 dence whatever of a trail, I warrant you, I'd hesitate 
 not an instant to follow these men wherever it is that 
 they may go." 
 
 "The Son of my Brother brags," returned the 
 Indian, softly, in his quiet reserve. "He is not wise 
 with many moons. His hair is not white with many 
 snows. He has not lived to see the power of his peo- 
 ple swept before the blasts of paleface greed. He 
 has not seen them plentiful as the deer of the woods 
 then seen them scattered to the land of the sunset. 
 He has not listened to his fathers tell him how 
 they drove the hateful Miamas from this land of the 
 disputed hunting ground in order to live upon it 
 themselves. He brags, but because he has not heard 
 the voice of Manitou's thunder. The wise race of 
 Pottawattamies have angered the Great Spirit. He 
 no longer looks upon them with pleasure. He turns 
 his face from their dances. He does not smile upon
 
 156 ONAWAGO 
 
 their sacrifices. He saves them not from their ene- 
 mies. Even the Miama dogs themselves find more 
 favor in his power than do the brave warriors of the 
 once warlike and numerous Pottawattamies. When 
 a Miama speaks the Great Spirit hears his voice. 
 When a Pottawattamie speaks his ears are closed. 
 The son of my Brother brags; but he is not a Potta- 
 wattamie. He brags; but the medicines of the pale- 
 face are not the medicines of the red man. He brags 
 that he would go into the hollow. Let him go if he 
 will. The spirits of the Miamas may not see him. 
 But a Pottawattamie must follow the ways of his 
 medicine. A Pottawattamie may not go into the 
 hollow. Should he go, he would never return. 
 The Son of my Brother is not of the forgotten race 
 of Pottawattamies. He brags that he would go into 
 the hollow. Then let him go!" 
 
 " 'Tis certain that I am not versed in the mysteries 
 and superstitions of your people, Moccasin. And 
 what's more, I have mighty little use for them. 
 Father believed in them more or less, but I do not. 
 As for there being ghosts in the gulley between 
 these hills, it's all folderol. But even so, we can fix 
 this matter between us, that is, if you are willing to 
 perform your share in the undertaking. Here is the
 
 ONAWAGO 157 
 
 very spot for one of us to watch by day and the 
 other by night. You have almost the sight of an 
 owl, Moccasin, and 'twould perchance be best for 
 you to watch by night. Or even to mount the top 
 of the big hill above us, might prove of advantage. 
 There is more than a little which we might learn 
 thus, Moccasin. What say you of the plan?" 
 
 "Can the eye see the wind as it blows?" de- 
 manded the red-skin with grave profundity. "Can 
 the wind hear the wings of a flying owl? Can the 
 hand feel the passing of a shadow? Then neither 
 can the Son of my Brother know when that which 
 the eye cannot see, which the ear cannot hear and 
 which the hand cannot feel, shall pass him by." 
 
 "Anyway, redskin," I ventured, slightly pro- 
 voked, "I'm going to watch if need be by day and 
 night. Luxor here will stay with me and I see no 
 cause for fear so long as the priming is dry in this 
 pan. Were you not so filled with the superstition 
 of your tribe, I well believe we might make a dis- 
 covery worth our while among the jungles of the 
 gulch. 'Tis my opinion there's more in there than 
 either of us gained the slightest inkling of. And it is 
 certain, had I your gift of tracking, I'd explore with- 
 out delay. But as it is, all I can do is to wait and
 
 158 ONAWAGO 
 
 watch, which promises no easy task, nor pleasant. 
 And I sure do wish that you would join me, Moc- 
 casin." 
 
 "The Son of my Brother is no coward. His 
 heart is brave like the heart of a Pottawatamie, al- 
 though he is not a red man. The medicines of the 
 palefaces cannot save him from the medicines of the 
 the red man. Some of the red men's medicines are 
 good; some are bad; some are very bad. But the 
 medicines of Topinabe are good. And they are 
 big. The Son of my Brother needs a medicine. He 
 needs it very much. And it must be big. He needs 
 the spirit of the beaver. And it shall be his." 
 
 Whereupon, even ere I realized his intention 
 and could remonstrate or detain him, he abruptly 
 turned from me, his lithe figure glided noiselessly 
 away into the timber which we had traversed on our 
 way hither. I stood and watched him depart, a sense 
 of loneliness and isolation stealing upon me. What 
 of importance so depressed the mind of the Indian? 
 what was it that caused him to address me consec- 
 utively with such concern? why could he speak so 
 earnestly and repeatedly of "medicines" these were 
 the thoughts which rankled in my disquieted imag- 
 ination as I stood alone with Luxor at the mouth of
 
 ONAWAGO 159 
 
 Indian Hollow and debated with myself what course 
 to pursue. 
 
 Slung across his forearm, Moccasin carried the 
 beaver's pelt. I knew not his intentions concerning 
 its disposal in my behalf. 
 
 Then while I stood there revolving in my mind 
 Moccasin's peculiar conduct, undecided whether to 
 heed his admonitions or hazard my own project of 
 waiting and watching, I determined upon neither 
 course. Why not explore the Hollow myself?
 
 160 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 THE LAUGH IN THE AIR. 
 
 T STOOD upon the mountain. An half hour had 
 - passed since my parting with Moccasin. An half 
 hour during which I had found it futile to attempt penet- 
 rating the jungle-like growth of Indian Hollow. I had 
 thereupon returned to my former decision of waiting 
 and watching the development of affairs. But even 
 as I had been engaged in constructing a rude sort of 
 ambuscade in which to secret myself and Luxor, I 
 had bethought me that a reconnoiter from the moun- 
 tain top might perchance prove advantageous. 
 Therefore, I climbed the mountain and gazed out 
 over the panorama of the surrounding country. 
 
 Since my interview with Bruce Long, which had 
 been near mid-afternoon, the remainder of the after- 
 noon had sped swifty by. It was now near sunset. 
 Low in the west, the sinking sun hovered above the 
 broad margin of the lake. The mighty watery 
 expanse beneath it lay lifeless like a sea of heavy 
 paint lead colored streaked with scintillating
 
 ONAWAGO 161 
 
 threads of luminous silver. The whole might well 
 have been some limitless mirror for aught of blemish 
 or wrinkle upon its lifeless face. Yet it reposed 
 ominous, darkly forbidding, boding evil to come. 
 For annually during the term of Indian Summer, 
 thus old Michigan lies, with not a breath of air to 
 brush a ripple upon his glassy sheen. Though now 
 this Saturday of late October, the halcyon tide was 
 nearing its close, and the nebulous sky above, flooded 
 with the yellow glare of the sinking sun, itself prog- 
 nosticated gathering storm. 
 
 Over all an intense silence prevailed. Not the 
 faintest whisper of air stirred. Only the plaintive 
 cry of a solitary night-hawk, high in the burning 
 ether, broke the almost deathlike stillness. 
 
 On my either side the lesser dunes rose bold and 
 gray, far as the eye could reach, blackly reared 
 against the fiery background like huge giants in re- 
 pose, long, undulating, uniform. Between and 
 around their huge bulks wound the valleys, traceable 
 solely by their duskier gloom. While deepest, dark- 
 est of them all, down directly beneath me and to 
 one side, girting half the mountain with its glossy 
 solitude, lay Indian Hollow. And I wondered as I 
 stood there gazing down into its darkling retirement,
 
 162 ONAWAGO 
 
 as it lay several hundreds of feet beneath me, would 
 the ghosts dare cry tonight ! 
 
 Beneath me to landward stretched the darksome 
 forest, lost in the distance with the continuation of 
 itself. Two clearings alone cut their small areas 
 amidst its ranks our own homestead and Arnold's. 
 Twin Lakes gleamed from out the somber verdure, 
 and I could trace the tortuous depressions of the 
 creek, winding its way to the base of this great moun- 
 tain. I wondered what secrets it might divulge were 
 it gifted with the power of speech. 
 
 Low above the forest and close above the eastern 
 horizon stood the colorless ghost of the full moon. 
 And even as I looked at her, it seemed she assumed 
 a more sallow tinge. I was thankful to her. With 
 her assistance alone, might I watch and wait the de- 
 velopments of affairs down there at the mouth of 
 the hollow, ambushed. But first, I must get me 
 home and perform my daily routine of chores be- 
 fore I might take up my lonely vigil. My recon- 
 noiter from the mountain top had awarded me 
 nothing. It was growing late and darkness was close 
 at hand. I would go without further delay, and 
 thereafter prepare for my sleepless night. 
 
 I spoke to Luxor to heel, turned to descend the
 
 ONAWAGO 163 
 
 precipitous sand-slide of the landward slope, when 
 I whirled about, startled, and gazed lakeward. From 
 the beach, evidently, a laugh had arisen softly upon 
 the listening silences. And even as I wheeled about, 
 gliding out upon the narrow breadth of water, rend- 
 ered visible by the Gap of Indian Hollow, where the 
 Hollow opened on the lake, across this narrow 
 breadth of waters, glided a birch bark canoe. It 
 held two men. Quick as it appeared, it as quickly 
 flitted from sight, and only the few receding ripples 
 of the paddles evidenced its having been other than 
 illusion. 
 
 I was for the moment amazed, then exultant. 
 Perchance even this might prove a source to the 
 clue I sought. 
 
 Forthwith, I was mindless of Indian Hollow and 
 its uncouth legends, mindless of Bruce Long's in- 
 trigue, mindless of my neglected chores, mindless of 
 aught but to reach with all possible speed the lake 
 shore and spy upon these men, whoever they might 
 be. I doubted not they were Long's strangers. I 
 tarried not an instant, and with Luxor near by, 
 bolted down the lakeward slope of the mountain, 
 following its gradual declivity to where it abruptly 
 terminated in a low, frowning bluff of blue clay
 
 164 ONAWAGO 
 
 fronting on the beach. It took but several minutes 
 before I was ensconced behind a convenient bush 
 growing upon the brow of this low bluff. 
 
 The long, white strand of shore fell away on 
 either hand, tenantless. The Great Lake, sullen in 
 its dark repose, stretched in its infinite vastness away 
 before me, also tenantless. My quarry had escaped. 
 
 The sun had set these several minutes since and 
 his strong radiance now leaped upward from behind 
 the black line of the lake, tawning to a brilliant 
 orange the entire western sky that in turn cast a feeble 
 glimmer of uncertain light back upon the lake and 
 hills. While shimmering in this reflected glow from 
 the heavens, shortly out from shore, a serpentine 
 wake twisted across the placid surface the trail of 
 the birch canoe. And to my surprise it lay turned 
 upon its side directly before me some yards back 
 from the water's edge. 
 
 No sooner did I espy it than I sprang down the 
 face of the low bluff and over to it. Two paddles 
 were underneath it, nothing more. Hereupon my 
 quest of a clue had come to naught. Of course, 
 there were moccasined footprints in the sand, but as 
 for their worth, had not there been moccasined foot- 
 prints where Bruce Long had tethered his horse?
 
 ONAWAGO 165 
 
 prints that led into the veritable jungle of the Hol- 
 low. Thus far, then I had gained nothing. 
 
 I turned about, faced the gap of Indian Hollow, 
 and, dreading to enter its gloom-wrapped recesses in 
 pursuance of my quest, I hesitated for the moment, 
 my courage daunted. A vague uneasiness lay hold 
 upon me; but mustering my will power and deter- 
 mination, I pushed resolutely forward to the brink 
 of the creek where its waters sank into the sand. 
 But here I paused again, not through lack of courage 
 this time, but because, I half believed, I heard 
 something. For a moment I listened, my every 
 faculty acutely intense. Then my doubts were sud- 
 denly confirmed. A low rushing sound like the 
 tremulo of fluttering wings was above me in the air; 
 the silken rustle of migrating birds or water-fowl, 
 methought. I glanced up, then around, but descried 
 nothing. It continued several moments thus, con- 
 stantly growing louder. Yet still I failed to descry 
 from whence the sound came. Then suddenly 
 louder and louder, like a wind rising on a stormy 
 night, the sound bore down upon me, seeming to is- 
 sue from the air, from the lake, from the earth and 
 revolve about me in circles, in sweeps and in dashes,
 
 166 ONAWAGO 
 
 swelling, then in turn, diminishing in undulating vari- 
 ation. 
 
 A cold, calmy sensation crept over me. A 
 dread, hysterical oppression settled upon my heart. 
 Perspiration broke out upon my hands and brows. 
 My breathing seemed forcibly stiffled. And through- 
 out it all I strove against myself to summon my flag- 
 ging courage and presence of mind. I braved my- 
 self in expectancy of momentary danger. But even 
 while I braved myself, even while I strove to quell 
 my rising apprehensions, Luxor ran forward casting 
 himself prone upon the sand, threw back his sleek 
 heard and thrusting his nose upward, gave vent to a 
 series of long drawn, lugubrious howls that sobbed 
 away into the listening silences of Indian Hollow in 
 wierd and plaintive cadences. During the moment 
 I remembered an ancient superstition, that when 
 under no provocation a dog howls, some one is soon 
 to die. 
 
 Then mingling with his howling and in extact 
 unison, an aerial laugh came and hovered about me, 
 taunting and exultant with racuous derision. Slowly 
 it broke from its low tone to a maniacal wail, and 
 thence to a wild shout as if summoning someone 
 from a distance.
 
 ONAWAGO 167 
 
 A travail of fear shook within my breast. I 
 trembled, my nerves were utterly beyond my con- 
 trol. My heart fluttered wildly in my throat, rebel- 
 lious to my effort to revoke its panic. 
 
 Then suddenly I caught the dull thud of a foot- 
 step close behind me. I turned to fall senseless from 
 a heavy blow.
 
 168 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 LUXOR. 
 
 T TlGH pitched ringing sounded in my ears. My 
 -* * brain swam; my mind was vacant; and I seemed 
 to float through interminable darkness. I stirred 
 from a cramped position and lay easier. Thence I 
 lay for a long time striving vainly to recall my shat- 
 tered memory but my mind was as blank as a cloud- 
 less sky. 
 
 By degrees the ringing in my ears abated. Slowly, 
 I began distinguishing a dim glimmer of light, a faint 
 ruddy glow that penetrated and partly subdued the 
 gloom about me. Again I moved, endeavoring to 
 sit up, but my brain reeled and I fainted at the ex- 
 ertion. Piercing pains darted over me and my head 
 throbbed to seeming bursting. Yet I was cold to 
 chilling. Uninterrupted quiet brooded heavily about 
 me, a boon in itself, and I gradually commenced to 
 drowse away. I was in a sort of sub-conscious slum- 
 ber when I aroused because of a snap like unto the 
 exploding of a coal of fire.
 
 I tottered over to the fire and sank to my knees. Page 175.
 
 ONAWAGO 169 
 
 With utmost endeavor and difficulty I shifted my- 
 self half-about, writhing and wrenching my bonds 
 for I found myself bound hand and foot and turn- 
 ing myself on my side, I discovered some score of 
 feet from where I lay, a small bed of coals glowing 
 feebly from amidst gray ashes. They emitted suffici- 
 ent light with which to ascertain the shadowy out- 
 lines of encircling shrubbery. The coals glowed in 
 the center of a space an area some twenty feet in 
 diameter from which the brush growth had been 
 cleared and the brush piled against the surrounding 
 barrier of verdant shrubbery. I gazed about me, my 
 mind gradually cleared of its bewilderment and after 
 a time I was to an extent, mentally, myself again, 
 
 Gradually I comprehended my situation; com- 
 prehended my absolute helplessness comprehended 
 the dire fact that I had lost out completely all around, 
 that I was nothing more than a miserable prisoner, 
 in whose power, I might only guess. And as the 
 melancholy truth dawned slowly upon me, I at first 
 was angered, then frightened, then sick at heart. 
 The blackness of the future loomed before me 
 colossal-like. I writhed and wrenched at my bonds, 
 enduring madly and well nigh in delirium my tor- 
 turing conceptions. Yet at length I prevailed upon
 
 170 ONAWAGO 
 
 myself to consider rationally, and upon considera- 
 tion I was enthralled with amazement and an agon- 
 izing realization that upon me alone hung the bal- 
 ance of the entire complication of affairs. With this 
 realization, I was seized with moody inertia. 
 
 The boys, without my aid, were to a surety 
 doomed doomed to a horror worse than the tomb 
 (for they do not hang in Michigan) imprisonment 
 for life. Mother and little sister Mary, with me gone 
 gone they knew not where were destitute and 
 alone, alone and destitute in an unsettled wilderness. 
 And Martha I studied for some time before I was 
 able to see her dependence upon my actions. 
 
 Should Bruce succeed in convicting the boys, 
 then the entire estate would assuredly come into his 
 possession, disputed by none. I questioned myself 
 if I thought him so lenient as to provide for Martha 
 and her mother, unless unless I boiled at the very 
 thought, unless he had come for more than than 
 the mere visit, as he declared. 
 
 In troth, the summed situation was demure enough 
 for me and mine! I was clad in my habitual cloth- 
 ing; a buck-skin shirt, homespun trousers, buck-skin 
 leggings and moccasins of Moccasin's handicraft. I 
 lifted my head and with strained composure, glanced
 
 ONAWAGO 171 
 
 down at my side. Yes my knife was gone, sheath 
 and all. My trusty old rifle was nowhere within 
 sight. My beaver-fur cap was not upon my head. 
 Instead a cold, clammy mass pressed there. And I 
 knew intutively that it was clotted blood. 
 
 My heart sank with despondency. I feared for 
 Luxor's life. For when I had received the blow 
 that had rendered me senseless lest I be mistaken 
 in my dog he had sprung upon my captor, whereat 
 the cudgel which had all but snatched my life, surely 
 would have proven more effective in his case. I 
 hestitate not to confess that I broke down utterly, 
 crediting my fears in true light. For when a man 
 looses that friend enduring unto death, be it mongrel 
 or pedigreed, beautiful or ungainly, the deep throb- 
 ing strings of nature's grand and tender harp are 
 touched, sounding a chord that vibrates never but 
 with this one incentive. 
 
 Melancholy, lassitude settled upon me, irrevoc- 
 able because I tried to shake it off and brace up, but 
 I was instilled with a dire and awful understanding of 
 the future, black unto the darkest night. The inter- 
 pretation of those strange night words was beginning 
 to evolve beford me. I recalled Bruce Long's part- 
 ing words his warning that I should soon enough
 
 172 ONAWAGO 
 
 know their meaning, and that the last word was 
 'Tragic.' Also I recalled Moccasin's evasion of my 
 direct questioning. "The palefaces of the cities are 
 serpents and their bite is death." 
 
 He had intimated Bruce Long. "And their bite 
 is death." 
 
 Ah, too true! 
 
 All was mystery. I prayed that it might chance 
 be but the incubus of an overwrought imagination 
 preying upon me. 
 
 Surely I had slept, for slowly I became aware of 
 some one addressing me by name; and upon regain- 
 ing consciousness, and looking up, I found Bruce 
 Long, his shapely form drawn in black against the 
 wan brilliancy of the moon's beams, beside me. 
 
 "Here's your old pup," he said. 
 
 Tied to a long deer-skin strip, and held by one 
 hand, was Luxor, standing close at Long's side. 
 Long unleashed him and the noble animal bounded 
 to me in ecstacy, crouched upon me and demon- 
 strated his gladness until I was compelled to com- 
 mand him to "charge" in order to hear Long's 
 words. 
 
 He had strode over to the fire. With his cap he 
 was fanning the embers, striving to enliven them into
 
 ONAWAGO 173 
 
 igniting the few sticks he had tossed upon them, and 
 at the same time talking rapidly as though he had no 
 time to spare. 
 
 "A little more and things would have taken a 
 decided turn from their mapped course. By sheer 
 luck I stumbled upon them just in the nick of time. 
 Francois was in the very act of putting a finish to 
 your old dog. I arrested his hand even as he forced 
 the trigger. The charge went wild. 'Twas a foolish 
 deed of his to pull a gun this time of night among 
 these hills where echoes are so loud and lasting. I 
 fear old Moccasin is not asleep though I know not 
 whether he suspects anything as to me, but full sure I 
 know he can follow a trail with his eyes as easily as 
 old Luxor with his nose. And but for his belief in 
 these ghosts, he tells about, infesting the hollow, 
 Miamas, I believe he would have unearthed us 
 long since, but he dreads this place like he would to 
 meet the devil himself, and I guess all others here- 
 abouts are not far behind him in the same theories. 
 This wood doesn't want to burn any too well. At 
 last a blaze! Well, I've certainly earned it!" 
 
 "Now, Dave, we'll have it out and over with in 
 short order." 
 
 He laughed and turned from the fire to me. A
 
 174 ONAWAGO 
 
 tiny blaze was catching among the faggots and be- 
 ginning to crackle and snap, licking upward into the 
 breathless night air, shedding its glare about the 
 place and lighting up in black outline the admirable 
 physique of Bruce Long as he stood before me. 
 
 As I lay there gazing up at him, I meditated upon 
 how a man can so impregnate his conscience with 
 repeated crushings until it is entirely subjugated; then 
 with inimical intent, face composedly the one against 
 whom he has premeditated evil without betraying 
 the slightest emotion upon his external demeanor. 
 But I was estimating Bruce Long wrong. 
 
 "I've considerable to tell you, Dave. It's cold 
 and damp over there. Here, let me help you to 
 the fire, where we can talk the matter over more 
 comfortably and I hope, come to an agreement." 
 
 With his characteristic deliberation he came over 
 to me, unpocketing his penknife, and, kneeling down 
 beside me, cut my thongs and assisted me to my feet 
 where I swayed with giddiness, my brain reeling un- 
 stably. Then Long spoke again. 
 
 "You're chilled. Step over to the fire. But be- 
 ware any move you make. Beware at your peril. 
 Understand! I'll not trust you farther than I must." 
 
 He fell back before me, pace by pace. His clean-
 
 ONAWAGO 175 
 
 cut features glowered darkly severe. In his right 
 hand he twirled carelessly a pistol. And he walked 
 about the fire to the opposite side and seated him- 
 self crossed-legged upon the ground. 
 
 Scarce able to retain my equilibrium, I tottered 
 over to the fire and sank to my knees before it, 
 weak and exhausted, a sense of extreme faintness 
 coming upon me. I stretched cold and benumbed 
 hands to the welcome warmth and felt gradually 
 the enlivening vitality mount throughout me. My 
 blood began coursing wildly through my veins. 
 My heart pulsed with unaccountable frenzy, react- 
 ion probably after my recent legarthy. But mean- 
 while Long had discontinued his dialogue, though 
 he continued toying with his pistol, significantly, so 
 I thought. 
 
 I can see him once again as he sat there full 
 within the fire-light, gazing into the glowing embers, 
 their strong glare flashing upward into his handsome 
 face, a smile playing about his mouth that suggested 
 in its fixed downward curves, repressed bitterness. 
 He had tossed aside his cap, and his wavy hair, a 
 deep rich chestnut, glossed in the flashing firelight 
 with a lustre that I have never found in any but his. 
 A solitary ringlet clung tenaciously over his left
 
 176 ONAWAGO 
 
 temple and he crushed it back repeatedly only to 
 have it persistently settle once more upon his brow. 
 His apparel was black broadcloth. His shoes were 
 patents. He wore a linen collar, open at the front, 
 and a checkered black and white tie. From me of 
 the backwoods such toggery begot reverence a bar- 
 rier of respect for their wearer that I seemed bound 
 in honor to revere. Ye of the cities may not un- 
 derstand me, but ye of the rural districts have known 
 this self same reverence. 
 
 Of a sudden Long glanced over at me and his 
 gray eyes had lost their former geniality, now re- 
 placed by a cold, steely gleam that resided in their 
 backmost depths. 
 
 "Well, young Bundy, what do you think of the 
 situation?" 
 
 "I'm not wasting overmuch with terror," I re- 
 joined. 
 
 He smiled strangely. 
 
 "Pehaps not. But how like you the prospect of 
 wasting away with hunger even though you may 
 overcome your terror? Well, to be bluntly frank, 
 that's your prospect starvation! Now what do you 
 think of the situation?"
 
 ONAWAGO 177 
 
 "A man doesn't starve in an hour," I announced, 
 sardonically. 
 
 "But he does in weeks. And you're on the high- 
 road. Exercise, of course, to some extent, helps a 
 man out, but its mighty little exercise a man gets 
 bound hand and foot like you yourself have been, 
 and henceforth shall be. I don't care to intimidate 
 you, only I thought perchance you would like to 
 know the situation. Starvation is a very promising 
 future for a fellow, you know, so I thought I'd just 
 enlighten you that you're well upon the highroad of 
 starvation. Want to jog on, or back up which?" 
 
 "I haven't struck anything but sand so far upon 
 your metaphoric road, and, of course, I'm lodged in 
 the rut of starvation, but what of it?" 
 
 "Yes, a deep rut a rut with a mountain of sand 
 on one side, another great dune opposite, at the 
 farther extremity Lake Michigan, and on the other, 
 underbrush, which, unless you know the paths, you 
 can't get through. Yes, sir, you're in a deep rut and 
 a big one, the best rut for my purpose in this country, 
 a rut which I doubt if white man other than myself 
 has hitherto penetrated outside your present explo- 
 ration. How do you enjoy exploring, anyhow? 
 No cinch, is it? Oh, I forgot! You did explore this
 
 178 ONAWAGO 
 
 same rut once when a kid. Remember the night? 
 Pleasant reminiscence, isn't it? Can't you imagine 
 your present outlook's rather such 'Mighty, Mar- 
 velous, Mystic,' etc.? But I won't hector you with 
 the recitation of that little verse. I warrant you re- 
 member it all well enough. But its musical after all. 
 I like the rhythm and the meter, but best of all, I like 
 the theme! The theme is grand to me and sig- 
 nificant, I dare say, to you. Or can it be possible 
 that you've forgotten it? 
 
 'Mighty, Marvelous, Mystic, Magic, 
 Bloody, Weird, Peculiar, Tragic!" 
 Then his voice sank lower, identically as on that 
 other night: 
 
 "Mighty, Marvelous, Mystic, Magic, 
 Bloody! Weird! Peculiar! Tragic!" 
 Then sank to a sibilant whisper: 
 
 "Mighty, Marvelous, Mystic, Magic, 
 Bloody, Weird, Peculiar, Tragic!" 
 His blue-gray eyes shone with a strange light. A 
 wiry smile drew about the corners of his mouth. He 
 shifted the pistol to his other hand and leaned for- 
 ward, gazing intently across the fire at me, and his 
 whisper scarce bore upon the silence of the night. 
 "And, Dave, there's more in those eight words
 
 ONAWAGO 179 
 
 than you dare dream. You're only beginning to 
 fathom their depths. Fortunate you'd be if 'twere 
 that you could help but fathom them. But it has 
 been ordained otherwise unless unless you accede 
 to my terms." 
 
 "I don't understand you," I interposed. 
 
 "Of course you don't. I didn't expect you 
 would. But it's simply this: the three years stated 
 in the will expires next month. Destiny, with a 
 trifle of assistance on the quiet from me, has made 
 me wealthy, at least soon to be. Now look here, 
 Bundy; you're beastly poor; almost to poverty. I'll 
 be rich inside of a month. Now, coming straight to 
 the question, what do you ask to keep your mouth 
 shut and tell nothing you may know?" 
 
 "I consider an offer to that effect as an insult, sir," 
 I replied imperiously and with some heat. 
 
 He laughed outright and heartily. 
 
 "Gosh, but you've a wealth of blazon independ- 
 ence for a captive. Perchance you'll change your 
 mind upon a little explanation from me." 
 
 He immediately grew serious serious almost to 
 severity. 
 
 "Now, look here, Bundy. This entire situation 
 lies in my grasp. I intend moulding the issue to suit
 
 180 ONAWAGO 
 
 my end. You alone are my stumbling block the 
 sole obstacle between me and fortune, and you 
 faugh! You're so easily disposed of that all I have 
 to do is to do nothing. The sparrow cannot free 
 itself from the talons of the hawk. Neither can you 
 free yourself from my clutches. In other words, you 
 are but the wounded sparrow, I the hawk. I hold 
 you as I please and you are powerless, sinking slowly 
 to your death unless, unless you accept my pro- 
 posal." 
 
 "As it is, the Breeds swear they will not feed you 
 that if I will have you here, then through them 
 you shall not be allowed a morsel of food to sustain 
 your hated life. Gladly and with a grin would they 
 wring your neck, and only through my intercessions 
 will they not prove some treachery only of such as 
 they. You shall lie bound both hand and foot and 
 with thongs bound none too loosely. So for God's 
 sake, Dave, think! Think, man, think! Imagine 
 when you shall be lying here bound and helpless, 
 starving by inches, starving! grating your teeth in 
 agony and gnawing your fingers with famine! Hor- 
 rible! Horrible!" 
 
 I sat shuddering. 
 
 Bruce Long's face had grown mysterious. His
 
 ONAWAGO 181 
 
 eyes were lighted with a strange frenzy, and for once 
 lost their bluish cast. He barely breathed his words 
 as he leaned still farther forward, gazing intently 
 with his cold gray eyes across the fire into my own. 
 I sat as one frozen, wordless, listening as a sentenced 
 man listens to the reading of his death warrant. I 
 may have been livid with horror. An icy clutch 
 seemed upon my heart, stifling its throbbing pulsa- 
 tions. And in my nervous and weakened state, 
 with sheer rigor I overpowered the increasing terror 
 which was rendering me momentarily more lacking 
 in fortitude with which to combat Long's pressing 
 determination in prosecution of his offered bribe. 
 
 "Come, Dave, don't play the fool. I seek arbi- 
 tration. Do that which I beseech of you to do and 
 live live long and independently with that which 
 I'll gladly give you instead of permitting them to 
 take your life. Name your price; I'll meet it. Make 
 it big, if you will, for I don't want your blood to be 
 spilled through your own folly. That last word 
 'tragic' means that you must die die by your 
 own hand die because Onawago has so spoken. 
 Her last word every time was 'tragic' and 'tragic' 
 it shall be unless you name your price; 'tragic' by 
 means of yourself; Starvation starvation because
 
 182 ONAWAGO 
 
 you refuse my terms which are your sole means of 
 salvation from your hideous doom. For Dave, you 
 are in Onawago's custody, not mine. You are en- 
 vined by her black magic. 'The Eye' is never off 
 of you. Bundy, you are a doomed man! Her last 
 word was 'Tragic.' And it must be so unless you 
 name your price. Do so, man! Don't play the 
 fool!" 
 
 Then he sat and gazed across at me some 
 minutes before he spoke again. 
 
 "I'm the fool to expect you to trust me, though," 
 he said. "How the deuce I'm going to make good 
 with you, I'd like to know. You know me well 
 enough, perhaps only too well, but maybe not in 
 quite the right light. I'm blamed for what others 
 have done. Until now another has done the bid- 
 ding,! have obeyed. But the tables are going to 
 turn. I'm going to give a few orders now! And 
 I'll see that I'm obeyed, or, by God, something will 
 have to break! 
 
 He arose, stepped over to the edge of our cleared 
 space, and faced the mist-wrapped gloom, For a 
 moment he hesitated. Then shrill and clear, he 
 blew a prolonged whistle that pierced the night and 
 sank away slowly in the deathly stillness. He waited
 
 ONAWAGO 183 
 
 a minute or two, then repeated the same long drawn 
 lingering note. A second or more elapsed. Then, 
 wafted through the silent night, came in answer, a 
 whistle identical to his own. Thereupon Bruce 
 Long wheeled about and again came over to me. 
 
 He stood gazing down into the fire in silence. 
 There was a contemplative expression on his face 
 and his jaw had a determined set to it. A frown 
 creased between his eye brows. His hands, thrust 
 behind him, still toyed with the pistol. As he stood 
 there, I wondered, almost feared, what this pensive 
 mood of his might bode. 
 
 Luxor broke the unpleasant stress. He arose 
 from where he lay strong within the heat and stalk- 
 ing over outstretched his long, lithe form along be- 
 side me, his nose to the fire. Whereupon Bruce 
 stepped around and kneeling beside Luxor, laid his 
 pistol aside with careless abandon, methought, and 
 lifting the shapely, tapering nose in the palm of his 
 hand, gazed long and affectionately into Luxor's 
 large, lustrous, brown eyes. In reponse, Luxor's 
 tail swayed slowly from side to side. With sudden 
 impulse I too reached over and rested a hand tend- 
 erly upon my old hound. Long gazed up at me, 
 and there was meaning in his look which I could not
 
 184 ONAWAGO 
 
 fathom. But well I knew he loved that dog to an 
 extent even as I myself did, and, as he lay there out- 
 stretched between us, I felt, and, perchance, Long felt 
 also, that in a sense he was a connecting link of our 
 mutual sympathies. 
 
 Long was mumbling in a low monotone. 
 
 "Lux, good old dog, 'twas well for us all that I 
 saved you when I did: yes, well for us all." Then 
 he ceased speaking audibly and I distinguished the 
 final sentence merely by the motion of his lips. 
 That which he said was: 
 
 "Yes, well for all but Her." 
 
 I knew he feared to speak aloud lest he be over- 
 heard by others than myself. 
 
 "In the name of Heaven, Long," I cried with 
 sudden impetuosity, "tell me what this all means." 
 
 He studied me with a bland smile. 
 
 "You'll know all soon enough, Bundy," he said.
 
 ONAWAGO 185 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 EMPTY-HANDED RETRIBUTION. 
 
 T ONG slowly rose to his feet and faced the gloom. 
 ' A crackling in the brush had drawn his atten- 
 tion. A second later the shadowy form of a large 
 man was discernible in the darkness, urging his way 
 through the thicket. Then as he stepped forth from 
 the skirting brush into our open space, he paused, 
 and I recognized the larger of the two breeds. 
 
 He was of powerful brawn, an excellent type of 
 physical manhood. He stood with a slouch to his 
 shoulders; though he exhibited a dignified mien, a 
 suggestion of dogged fearlessness, almost of contempt, 
 I divined, as he regarded me first, then Long, with a 
 sullen leer upon his truculent countenance a trucu- 
 lence that I myself would have dreaded to goad 
 further than occasion demanded. 
 
 "Francois," Long addressed him with his usual 
 domineering manner in both tone and bearing, 
 "bring some meat here to him," he indicated me 
 with a lofty gesture. "And don't be slow about it, 
 either."
 
 186 ONAWAGO 
 
 The breed made not a sign toward obedience. 
 
 Long again commanded him, even more sternly 
 than previously. Then casually, he reached over 
 and picked the pistol from the sand. Simultaneously 
 the breed placed a hand to his hip and his forefinger 
 touched and caressed the hilt of his belt-hung, 
 sheathed knife. A scowl gathered on his forehead 
 and forced the drooping, shaggy brows low over his 
 dark, gleaming eyes. But he turned, nevertheless, 
 and, forcing his passage into the shrubbery, ere long 
 was swallowed up in the gloom; and a minute or two 
 later the disturbance occasioned by his passage into 
 the shrubbery melted also into silence. 
 
 Long turned to me with an exultant smile. 
 
 "I doubt that he returns though," he said. 
 "Could scarce blame him if he shouldn't. But I'll 
 have them understand that I'm boss hereafter. I'm 
 going to rule this roost to suit myself. I've knuckled 
 to others plenty long enough. Things haven't gone 
 my way either. I've had mighty little to say about 
 affairs. But the tables are turned henceforth; things 
 shall progress differently than in the past; my author- 
 ity shall dominate. I'll stand no balks; I'm bound 
 to see that you're fed fed a day or two until you 
 too give in to me. But, by God, if you don't and
 
 ONAWAGO 187 
 
 within short order, I've already told you the conse- 
 quences. But old Luxor here must not starve- 
 above all else he must not starve. And, Bundy, I 
 warn you, beware that no harm befalls your dog!" 
 
 He began pacing back and forth before the fire, 
 restlessly. 
 
 "You're in no condition to consider rationally 
 tonight, Dave. But I cannot see how we can well 
 wait to settle this matter. Delay will, I am afraid, 
 unstring everything. Bull-headedness on your part 
 will be your own downfall. You have but one alter- 
 native; to accept my preferred bribe, or else accept 
 no bribe and simply take your oath to keep strictly 
 dumb. Yet, I'd almost hate to trust you you, or 
 anybody else on a question of paramount impor- 
 tance such as this." 
 
 "Delay, I say, Dave, will wreck everything. To- 
 night, your mother thinks nothing of your absence. 
 By tomorrow noon she will have commenced to 
 worry and wonder at your prolonged stay. You ap- 
 pear not at the funeral in the afternoon. People 
 look askance at one another. They shake their 
 heads meaningly. Whyfore this absence, they in- 
 quire. Has he fled justice? Then if he fled to 
 escape justice, the boys are assuredly guilty of crime
 
 188 ONAWAGO 
 
 and you were a third party involved, only more 
 fortunate than they. Consequently they will bear 
 the full extent of the law. And my work will be a 
 mere nothing." 
 
 "Tonight your mother calmly sleeps. Tomorrow 
 night dire terror shall have filled her heart a terri- 
 ble fear and an awful knowing that her boy, her once 
 beloved son, is a vile criminal. Tonight she sleeps. 
 Tomorrow night at this time she will not sleep. In- 
 stead she will rave with madness." 
 
 "And Martha, Dave, Martha, Martha who loves 
 you as she will never love another Martha whom 
 you love dearer than life itself Martha will believe 
 to her grave that you you in whom she places ut- 
 most, implicit trust she will believe to her grave 
 that you murdered her father and in cold blood." 
 
 "And all this time, Dave, as a result of your head- 
 strong foolhardiness, you shall be rotting in this 
 place, dying or already dead. For, unless you ac- 
 cede to my terms I shall be handicapped in ever 
 liberating you from her clutches. Her clutches 
 which mean ultimate death." 
 
 "But why scare you with this simple, plain truth, 
 when the ghastly supernatural might perchance 
 suffice, and with better result? But no some future
 
 ONAWAGO 189 
 
 period will serve, and mayhap better so some future 
 date." 
 
 He whirled unexpectedly and stood over me, 
 almost leering in his attitude, with a manner, me- 
 thought, indicative of temporary dementia. 
 
 "Fie, such frivolity! One would think me still in 
 kilts to hear me prate. Why, gash! While you sit 
 there like a stoic, I prance about here and rave as 
 though I were doomed and not you! Why, Bundy, 
 here I stand cursing my luck, when, fellow, it's the 
 richest vein man ever panned! Luck! Ha, Luck! 
 and yet, Bundy, and yet " 
 
 "Dave Bundy! I swear to you the oath of a des- 
 perate man! By God! If it were in my power to 
 change this awful truth I would hesitate not an in- 
 stant. Gladly would I die to see at this moment the 
 state of affairs as they existed thirty-six hours ago. 
 'Cause, Dave, 'fore God I'm innocent of his blood! 
 Heaven knows I am! These hands are stainless as 
 your own! Think ye, man that I slew him? Him 
 who found me and nurtured me, cared for me even 
 as he would have cared for his own think ye that 
 I sought his life? But of course you think so of 
 course you do and why not? My God! My God!" 
 
 "How I wish I were away from it! How I would
 
 190 ONAWAGO 
 
 to God I might undo what has been done! Would 
 that I never had been led into it by Her! Gads! I 
 hate her! Onawago, hearest thou? Onawago, 
 would that I had never known thee or thy power! 
 Hearest what I say, thou Onawago? Hearest what 
 I say, thou hag! thou hag! thou witch! Hearest thou 
 this which I say?" 
 
 He paused. His voice had been high pitched 
 and full, ringing out fully within the small enclosure 
 and bearing away into the gloomy solitude. For 
 the moment succeeding his bold rebuke, an intense, 
 unsevered silence endured, uncanny and unearthly 
 in its over-wrought restraint. We stared into each 
 other's eyes in fearful expectancy of something, 
 we knew not what. I am positive by the strange and 
 indescribable expression of Bruce Long's face and 
 the wild, haunted look that shown within his steel 
 gray eyes, that he regretted instantly his harsh de- 
 risive words. 
 
 Suddenly the fire snapped loud like a pistol shot, 
 and simultaneously a wierd melody began there- 
 from, chanting softly and in a tremor, a low croon- 
 ing song a wierd Indian melody almost without 
 tune, whose doleful, insensible crooning sounded 
 upon the chill night air like the dull hum of droning
 
 GNAW AGO 191 
 
 insects. Then slowly it gave way to a wild and 
 hysterical laugh which came and hovered low above 
 the fire; then retreated into the farther air where 
 gradually it travelled and diminished in the distance, 
 until finally it had all but subsided, when suddenly, 
 back within the Hollow, an eldritch shriek 'pierced 
 the silence, quivering and shivering in long drawn, 
 languishing wails of distress. And magnifying the 
 terrible effect a hundred fold, the silent hills flung 
 back in fiendish mockery every accent, every quake 
 of the horrid strain, every whimper of the maniacal 
 wails. The spell was of prolonged duration, but 
 suddenly it was supplanted by a loud, piercing cry, 
 that burst from out the farthest depths of the Hol- 
 low, and penetrated and resounded for miles down 
 through the broken quiet of the hills. But it stopped 
 short, and the reverberating cadences throbbed 
 away into the distance 
 
 At the cry, Bruce Long started with a frightened, 
 hunted expression, turned from me, and stood gaz- 
 ing into the shadowy gloom of Indian Hollow, as 
 though momentarily expecting the occurence of 
 something horrifying and of more consequence than 
 tfie cry that had just subsided into silence; then with 
 pale face and wiry smile, after a moment, he turned
 
 192 ONAWAGO 
 
 and spoke to me low, very low, so low I could barely 
 hear: 
 
 "Dave, that was the Cry! And I'll tell you it's 
 no use, it's no use! She's incorrigible." 
 
 And for the first and one time in my life I saw 
 Bruce Long unnerved; but after it all he became his 
 erstwhile samel self again. For several minutes he 
 stood staring abstractedly down into the fire before 
 he suddenly braced up and with a laugh flung his 
 irksome mood aside and regained his former equa- 
 nimity. He walked over to the encircling brush- 
 fence and breaking off several branches came back 
 and cast them upon the smouldering embers. 
 
 "Dave," he said blandy, "your head's in awful 
 shape. Your hair's all matted with blood; " and he 
 stepped over beside me and I could almost feel a 
 shade of pity in his voice. ' 'Twasn't any gentle 
 love pat they gave you to knock a gash in your 
 scalp like that. How they helped getting your skull 
 I cannot see. But I don't believe there's any frac- 
 ture or you'd be clean to the bad. Suppose you 
 could stand a walk to the creek? It's only a few 
 steps. I could bathe your head then. It's suicide 
 for you to stay in this awful shape suicide for your- 
 self and murder for me. Come! Try! Get up!
 
 ONAWAGO 193 
 
 Here, I'll help you! Gash, you're weak! The devil 
 knows how you're alive, I don't. But I'm blamed 
 sure I'm glad you are, 'cause I don't believe you're 
 going to play the fool Dave, after you've had time 
 to reflect upon the case at your leisure." 
 
 He reached down and grasping me by the arm, 
 literally dragged me to my feet, and not relinquish- 
 ing his grasp, all but hauled me along into the 
 thicket. 'Twas all I could do to follow. It required 
 every iota of the strength I could muster to tear and 
 stumble through the tangled vegetation. Yet with 
 the violent exercise I found my nerves quieting, my 
 strength returning and my recently apathetic men- 
 tality reviving. My throat was dry with a burning 
 thrist that increased constantly, and every slap of a 
 twig in my face smarted grievously. Once I coughed, 
 a dry hacking cough, and as I did so, Bruce turned 
 upon me half angrily, yet in a whisper. 
 
 "Hush, Dave, hush! The very leaves have ears 
 tonight. Make not a sound lest we both rue it. I 
 doubt not that the breeds lurk hereabouts, though 
 mayhap I may be mistaken in them! But I warn 
 you, Dave, in the name of God, I warn you to fore- 
 bear betraying our movements. Henceforth under 
 no condition, under no provocation, make one
 
 194 ONAWAGO 
 
 sound while we are absent from the fire. For if 
 they suspect my befriending you then well the 
 fight shall be all yours." 
 
 As he breathed, rather than said this, he handed 
 me a pocket flask. I drained its every drop, craving 
 more. The crude, home-brewed peach brandy was 
 all but nauseating, yet it was drink, and drink I was 
 dying for. The beverage stimulated me a trifle, and 
 the blandness of Long's smile tended to urge me on, 
 for in it I detected a vague degree of commiseration 
 as he gazed deep into my eyes. I felt to the fullness 
 that on him, in truth, hung both my life and the 
 fortunes of those I loved. As we plodded onward 
 through the brush, I marveled and meditated upon 
 the strangeness of it all. 
 
 We at length came to the creek, a bend that 
 swept to the left, its over-hung vegetation obscuring 
 the water from view until we had crawled beneath 
 the bushes where I rested on my hands and knees, 
 while Bruce immediately began sponging my head 
 with his handkerchief. The coldness of the water on 
 my face and head soothed and eased me almost to 
 drowsiness, and I all but revelled in the pleasantness 
 of Long's touch, as he streamed the icy trickles over
 
 ONAWAGO 195 
 
 my enfevered nape and let them drip from my face 
 and hair. 
 
 "Dave, this wound is bordering on seriousness. 
 It's a bloody and a bad mess, at the least. I'm afraid 
 of inflammation setting in. And, gash, man, if it 
 should, your chances would be mighty thin and 
 scarce. Fact is, boy, your chances are mighty slim, 
 anyway. Yet there's no denying that I've placed 
 myself on rather precarious grounds. I stand on no 
 enviable soil at this moment. The price is more 
 than the dirt. Wish I might even give it away. But 
 I've bought; I've got to hang on. But the crop on 
 such soil rarely thrives. Lord knows I wish I hadn't 
 come west. And yet, Dave, there's no use despair- 
 ing, after all. You'll not play the dunce; I'm posi- 
 tive you won't. Because, Dave, if you'll only help 
 me harvest (you've already helped me plant) and 
 work the thing on shares, man, everything will be 
 O. K. Come, man, let's settle this thing right off. 
 You need attention need it bad; and you ought to 
 to be home. What think you, Bundy? Come, 
 man, don't balk any longer." 
 
 I made him no answer, and he waited a moment 
 for one, whereupon he grew petulant. 
 
 "You're a fool to sulk, Bundy. God knows,
 
 196 ONAWAGO 
 
 everything is my way everything, boy, everything! 
 You, everyone, everything! Don't sulk; there's no 
 use. Why, Dave, do you believe you have the 
 shadow of a chance? I, alone, hold this affair hold 
 you, the boys and the Arnolds. Why, as for you, 
 you are out of the game entirely. The Arnolds are 
 mine; you're mine; Dick and Jean are mine; the 
 breeds are mine even Onawago and and Martha; 
 even Martha's mine. Dave, even Martha!" and he 
 fairly shouted with exultation. 
 
 My heart grew frigid within me. My head 
 swirled, blank void before my eyes. Oh, God! was 
 I loser even in this? 
 
 "She's no equal east; gad, there's no equal to her 
 anywhere! Her's is the beauty that takes. Wait till 
 she's among the fair ones of the city; she'll beat them 
 all. Rank outrage for her to 'waste her sweetness on 
 the desert air,' he said, half quoting. Tea, flower 
 born to blush unseen,' that is she. But she's to be 
 mine, Dave, she's to be mine! Because, boy, I love 
 her! And, damned if you shall stand in the way!" 
 
 I crouched lower. Dire desperation surged 
 through me. 'Twas a bold stroke, yet in my inebri- 
 ation of despair and helplessness I ventured. 
 
 Bruce leaned above me, slightly over me and
 
 ONAWAGO 197 
 
 stooped low at the water's edge. With suddenness I 
 wrenched myself sidewise, shoving my entire weight 
 low down and against him. I heard him catch his 
 breath in surprise as with violent impact I lunged 
 against him. I felt him topple, grasping an over- 
 hanging branch with one hand and clutching at me 
 with the other. It seems to me today that Provi- 
 dence lent me momentary vigor as I arose to my 
 feet, though with poor stability, and broke into the 
 copice with no mean gait for one in my condition. 
 I heard Bruce splash heavily into the water behind 
 me. 
 
 I proceeded slowly and with stealth, husbanding 
 my strength as the need might be. In what direction 
 I went I cared not, for what with the night mists, the 
 density of the coverts, my brain reeling with exertion 
 and ravaged with fever, my legs weak beneath me, 
 and a cold sweat clammy upon me, it mattered not, 
 so it seemed, whither I stumbled. Anywhere but 
 here would suffice. Liberty lay in whatsoever di- 
 rection I might escape; that liberty which held so 
 much in store for many beside myself. But before I 
 had gone to my satisfaction, which was no goodly 
 distance as yet, I found my strength flagging, where- 
 upon I made to secrete myself beneath some shelter
 
 198 ONAWAGO 
 
 for the time. With a sense of utter exhaustion I en- 
 sconced myself beneath a bush, careless of my where- 
 abouts, and cast myself prone upon the ground, 
 leaning on my elbows, my face resting in my palms. 
 As I crouched, gazing straight forward underneath 
 the branches of dwarfed trees and bushes, suddenly 
 I shrank close to the earth, an extreme faintness 
 came over me, and with horror I shuddered at what 
 I beheld.
 
 ONAWAGO 199 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 THE VISION IN THE MOONLIGHT. 
 
 foliage of the shrubs and trees enclosing a 
 small space some several yards away was tinged 
 with the ruddy glow of firelight. In the center of 
 this space, suspended from four interlapped poles, 
 hung a smoke begrimed kettle, earthen pottery of 
 primitive Indian make. Beneath it burned a small 
 fire from which black pitch smoke ascended steadily 
 and dissolved in the night air; while its ruddy light 
 rendered a tawny semi-indistinct obscurity about the 
 place. Gleaming and glittering from out this gloom, 
 virulent and terrible, a large human eye was glaring 
 straight and steadfastly down upon me, the pupil and 
 iris jet black, the ball heavily bloodshot. The fire- 
 light playing upon the red veins gave an unwhole- 
 some expression and the gleam of the black pupil 
 was as of life and artfully cunning. As I gazed, awe- 
 stricken, spellbound, and fearful, my sight became 
 slowly accustomed to the wierd half-light of the place 
 and I commenced distinguishing other than the terri-
 
 200 ONAWAGO 
 
 ble eye; for gradually assuming shape and propor- 
 tion, a square built wigwam stood forth in the gloom. 
 Of tanned deer skins was the covering, and designs, 
 for the most part, hieroglyphic, were confusedly 
 stained upon the leather. The one of greatest prom- 
 inence it seemed was the uncouth eye, and of more 
 than mere prominence for true to life and savagery, 
 it gleamed and glared full upon me. I lay shudder- 
 ing, fascinated. 
 
 Directly underneath the eye, the doorflap was 
 thrown back and there within, filling the small door- 
 way with her uncouth figure, sat, crouched, Onawago. 
 
 She both crouched and hunched over as she sat 
 there gazing upward at she moon. A bright, scarlet 
 blanket wrapped her shoulders and her coarse, oiled 
 hair, black, straight and long, draggled loosely in 
 scraggled strands upon it, glossing in the firelight. 
 One naked arm reclined upon it, the skin-wrapped 
 bones terrible with emaciation. Her face was up- 
 turned and its profile was outlined markedly against 
 the sheer obscurity of the wigwam's interior. The 
 ghostly moonlight, striking full, added pallor to her 
 hideous visage. Her high cheek bones stood forth 
 in bold relief, and the wrinkled skin that covered 
 them was closely drawn and shiny. Her thin lips
 
 ONAWAGO 201 
 
 were parted and behind them was visible the jagged 
 snag of one discolored tooth. Her black, deep- 
 socketed eyes reflected the light and glowed with 
 a smouldering fierceness beneath the shaggy, over- 
 drooping brows. She was crooning softly to herself 
 as she sat there staring upward at the moon. Her 
 uncouth body swayed back and forth in slow and 
 regular time to the rhythm of her song. 'Twas a 
 wierd Indian melody, and the melancholy brooding 
 music impregnated my innermost heart with an awful 
 and dire appallment. I gazed upon that abhorrent 
 countenance upturned and ghastly pale in the moon- 
 light, with the blood in my veins running cold and a 
 calmy sweat upon me. 
 
 As I gazed upon her, terror stricken that I was, 
 suddenly her eyes left their fixed stare upon the 
 moon, left it, and dropped to the bushes shortly 
 ahead into which they peered as though able to 
 pierce their somber verdure. Then slowly, very 
 slowly, as though measuring every inch of the way, 
 her uncouth head began turning in my direction, a 
 deathly smile upon her ghastly face. Then, as her 
 eyes, with a demonish and vicious light, neared 
 'mine and met, a cold, icy thrill ran throughout me.
 
 202 ONAWAGO 
 
 An icy hand seemed to grasp my heart and to stiffle 
 its throbbing beats; and I, shuddering uncontrollably, 
 sank full upon the ground and with palms shielding 
 my face, I buried it into the white, loose sand, shut- 
 ting out the vision of those villainous eyes, set within 
 that ghastly visage. 
 
 Then as I lay there inebriated with horror, I dis- 
 tinguished a movement and a stirring of leaves be- 
 hind me and then Bruce's voice close to my ear in a 
 whisper to me: "You've played the fool, Dave." 
 Then, "I must speak with her." And he left me 
 lying there face downward and shuddering, regard- 
 less of what recourse toward escape I might take 
 left me and went toward Onawago. 
 
 I heard nothing thereafter. I sank into a heavy 
 stupor, almost oblivion, dull apathy settling upon 
 me. I was wholly unaware of their conference, 
 until at length I distinguished the intonation of a 
 strange, indescribable noise, hollow and racuous, 
 grating the silence, until without warning it broke 
 into that taunting laugh so often heard before; and 
 the next moment Bruce Long seized me roughly by 
 the shoulder and forcibly raised me to my feet. 
 Whereupon I glanced at him flushed with anger and
 
 ONAWAGO 203 
 
 his face set with determination. He wheeled about 
 brusquely and strode rapidly away through the 
 brush, bidding me follow. And in following I cast 
 one glanced behind.
 
 204 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 THE "MEDICINE" OF THE EYE. 
 
 O EEMINGLY, without the least difficulty, in this 
 ^ labyrinth of thicket, Long discovered a narrow 
 winding path a trail worn by the straight forward 
 impress of the Indian toe. Pursuing its course, after 
 the lapse of a few moments, we reached our lately 
 abandoned fire. 
 
 It had been rekindled and was blazing brightly, 
 lighting up the small brush-embraced area to the easy 
 discernment of all within. Luxor lay outstretched 
 before it, nor did he arise at our coming, simply tap- 
 ped the earth lightly with his long tail and lay gazing 
 at me with his lustrous brown eyes. Back from the 
 fire, seated close to the brush edge, beholding us 
 with ominous rancor and in silence, malignant and 
 sullen, cross-legged sat the two breeds, Francois and 
 the other. 
 
 Ignoring their presence, Long consulted his 
 watch.
 
 ONAWAGO 205 
 
 "Ah, 'tis late past two. I'd best be going. As 
 it is, I am compelled to steal from the house and 
 have to use some little strategy in doing so for 
 should Martha or her mother detect my absence I 
 would find myself in rather an uncomfortable situa- 
 tion, coining credulous excuses therefor. And it's no 
 child's play nor pleasant, this coming away over 
 here among these dunes in the dead of night. 
 When a kid I didn't mind it overmuch, but it's hard 
 to inure myself to these nightly escapades without a 
 twinge of apprehension and some dread in them as 
 to what may, perchance, be their outcome. And to 
 a certainly I wouldn't chase over to this hated place 
 again by night, if it weren't for you, Dave. Blast 
 such luck! There's sure going to be a shift around 
 here. I found that out a few minutes ago. The 
 prospect is black, Dave. Francois! and he whirled 
 unexpectedly and faced the breeds. "Look here, 
 you! Where is the meat?" 
 
 Undisguised rancor seamed the face of Francois. 
 And he made as though to answer, but instead he 
 deliberately reached behind him and bringing it 
 forth tossed an ample hunk of vension over to Bruce 
 Long, where it rolled in the dirt at his feet. 
 
 Long's face flushed angrily. He sprang forward a
 
 206 ONAWAGO 
 
 pace. Instantly the pistol was in his hand and 
 leveled. 
 
 "Long!" I fairly shrieked. 
 
 The gun lowered. 
 
 "Thanks, Bundy!" 
 
 He turned his back disdainfully upon the Breeds. 
 Then reaching over he lifted the meat from the 
 ground, a coating of sand heavy upon it. 
 
 "This is a rank outrage, Dave. Such foul stuff as 
 this you shall not have. Lux will though, here, 
 old boy!" Luxor arose, stretched, gaped, and 
 stalked stiffly over to Bruce and stood waiting, ex- 
 pectantly. Long began shaving the dirty meat with 
 his pen knife, handing the scraps one by one to 
 Luxor who devoured them ravenously and greedy 
 for more. At length to a solid chunk Long whittled 
 the meat, when, having freed it from the clinging 
 sand and amply appeased Luxor's greed, he pro- 
 duced a slender tapering branch and spitting the 
 venison, stirred the coals in order to roast the unap- 
 petizing viand. He held it from him at arm's length 
 over the coals. 
 
 "Troth, Dave, this isn't promising! But, never- 
 the less, you have to eat it. There's sustenance in it.
 
 ONAWAGO 207 
 
 Here, toast it yourself a minute or two," and he 
 thrust the stick into my hand. 
 
 "Look here, you Indians," Long growled, 'Til 
 have a bed built for this fellow. Go bring some grass 
 from the shore, some hemlock boughs, some well 
 dried leaves, or something suitable. And I want it 
 done without any grumbling, and done in a hurry, 
 or by Get up there and move. I'm not saying 
 this to hear my voice. Get up, I say! Hear me?" 
 
 Francois sat his ground, but the other arose and 
 stood looking expectantly at Francois to do the 
 same. 
 
 "That's right, Dominique. You've always been 
 a good fellow. But you, Francois, by the eternal, 
 to which I'll send you unless you obey! Get up 
 there, you skulking cur!" 
 
 Francois reluctantly arose. Long still stood 
 threaetning and imperative. 
 
 "Now both of you go together and bring back 
 here some of the sandgrass from the sand mounds. 
 'Twill make a good bed. Or you can cut hemlock 
 if you had rather, or leaves, or anything soft and 
 suitable for a bed for this sick fellow here. He's not 
 going to be allowed to die until I've at least finished 
 with him. And, understand, both of you, that you're
 
 208 ONAWAGO 
 
 neither one of you, concerned in this affair. Un- 
 derstand me? This affair is mine and is no concern 
 of yours. Now go and do as I said." 
 
 He, meantime, had reached into his trousers 
 pocket from whence he brought forth two silver dol- 
 lars. He pitched the Breeds each one. They 
 silently turned and departed into the brush upon 
 their mission, without a syllable of dissention. 
 
 Immediately Long huddled close to the fire, 
 chilled to shivering with his drenched clothing. 
 
 "I came mighty near shooting one of those dogs," 
 he mumbled. 
 
 "But your priming is wet," I observed. 
 
 "Not much, Bundy. Haven't you noticed that 
 this gun is no ordinary pistol of the old type? It's a 
 revolver an entirely new thing a very late inven- 
 tion. But of course you haven't as yet seen one be- 
 fore, away out here in the backwoods of Michigan. 
 Back east, these are rapidly taking the place of the 
 percussion locks, which are good enough I dare say. 
 See, Dave, it doesn't load at the muzzle." He 
 handed the gun over to me. "No clumsy, awkward 
 shooting-iron like our old-style arms. These are 
 handy, rapid, and, I actually believe, that in time 
 they will become the gun mostly used, even pehaps
 
 GNAW AGO 209 
 
 displace our trusty muzzle loaders, though that would 
 seem almost an impossibility, wouldn't it? What a 
 bunglesome contraption your own flintlock is along- 
 side this neat weapon. See, it loads from behind. 
 These things here are the loads; cartridges they are 
 called, and are made out of brass tubing and filled 
 with explosive. The primer is in the rear part, 
 against which the hammer strikes and discharges. 
 Just see how implicitly I trust you, Bundy, in per- 
 mitting you to handle the one weapon between the 
 two of us. But, gash, man, I'm not a whit scared of 
 your rashness. But I'm thankful that you stopped 
 me in my own headlong rashness but a moment 
 since. Why, I'd have blown that filthy lout to Hades 
 in half a second, if you hadn't yelled at me just when 
 you did. And I'm glad you yelled, Bundy. I don't 
 want to be any man's murderer. I've a temper that 
 flashes like powder. Seems I'm actually crazed for 
 the moment. I'm always sorry afterward. I've 
 enough already, God knows, to be sorry over. And 
 yet and yet, Dave, I'm not wholly to blame, God's 
 fact, I ain't. I know you believe that I am. How 
 dare I presume to expect you to think otherwise? 
 But, Dave, before God, I didn't do it had nothing 
 to do with it hadn't an idea of such a thing happen-
 
 110 ONAWAGO 
 
 ing. She learned of the hitches in the will. Tom's 
 dead because she did. But I tell you, Bundy, no one 
 mourns more than I. I feel that I am the whole 
 root of the matter 'cause he found me, fostered me, 
 raised me. Glad would I be had I not been found 
 that night. Better by far that he had flung me into 
 the waters of the little lake, beat my baby brains 
 against a tree-trunk, left me to the wolves, starved 
 me, anything, anything! Anything but cared for me! 
 How I wish that I had never been born born to 
 this life of mystery. Why, Dave, boy, God alone 
 knows who I am, what I am or where I came from 
 God alone, besides her. She knows maybe, 
 maybe not; I often wonder. What wouldn't I give 
 to know the truth terrible as it may be. Born an 
 outcast, I've lived like one. Reclusion seems bred 
 in my very blood, yet I've always fought against it, 
 and I can't gainsay that I haven't in a way battled 
 successfully. Can you blame me, man, for what I've 
 done? Put yourself in my shoes knowing nothing 
 of yourself, growing up wild and untrammeled even 
 as some pasture weed, influenced never for good, 
 despising everyone, despising earth and nature, des- 
 pising even yourself, despising our Maker, despis- 
 ing everything. Fate spun a tangled web for me.
 
 ONAWAGO 211 
 
 I've battled and striven against its meshes, and to 
 what avail? And now, I'm discouraged, Dave, and 
 disgusted. Oh, that 'twere in my power to right 
 matters. But I can't, and that ends it. Tis done; 
 'tis over with; I'm powerless. Circumstances will 
 simply have to follow their destined courses. I'd be 
 a fool to sacrifice everything now in the eleventh 
 hour solely for the sake of two country loons. Yet, 
 really Dave, I'm sorry for and actually pity Dick 
 and Jean. Poor hoodlums! They'll be sent over 
 the road for a plentiful term. But what's the differ- 
 ence? What could they ever become away off here 
 in these dreary wildernesses? What benefit could 
 they ever be to the world, or even to themselves for 
 all that. Such ignorant, unfortunate beings are 
 naught but a burden unto themselves. Yet I suppose 
 their dogged existences are sweet to them, after all. 
 But I can't help it now; the die is cast; it shall end as 
 best it may. I'm going to quit this brooding. Little 
 more at this rate and I'd be insane with melancholia 
 faugh melancholia when everything is my way! 
 Idiotic, isn't it, Dave? Idiotic yes and the whole 
 thing is idiotic. This affair, my life even, every- 
 thing of mine has always proven idiotic. Lord,
 
 212 ONAWAGO 
 
 what's more idiotic than this here damned thing 
 itself!" 
 
 Surprised, yet intensely fascinated, I watched 
 Long savagely tear away his necktie, tear open his 
 linen collar, and from about his neck untwine a 
 small delicate gold chain. Something odd shaped 
 dangled from it, the size of an acorn. 
 
 "I've worn this curst thing incessantly since old 
 enough to toddle. The thing's charmed. It's a 
 "medicine," Bundy the biggest medicine ever 
 known. Gad, the thing's loathsome and detestable! 
 Can you imagine what it is, Bundy? I'll bet you 
 can't. Here examine it closely. See, it's all 
 shrunken and out of shape! Look carefully there 
 now; hold it near the fire and well within the light. 
 See the color in there can't you see the color of a 
 human eye there on that side? Can't you guess 
 what it is? Why, Dave, it's a human eye! Pon- 
 tiac's! She has the other herself. Stole them from 
 from his head and filled up the cavities. Stole them 
 while chanting over his corpse down on the Illinois, 
 there where he was stabbed. Surely you've heard 
 the tale how the Pottawatamies avenged his death 
 at 'Starved Rock' how they drove three hundred 
 Illinois Indians, among whom he had been working,
 
 ONAWAGO 213 
 
 when that dastardly, British-bred Shawanee stabbed 
 him from behind while he harangued them in 
 council; drove them up on the 'Rock of St. Louis' 
 where La Salle had his stronghold for so many 
 years under Tonty's command, and there starved 
 them to death. That's why it's now called 'Starved 
 Rock' instead of the 'Rock of St. Louis' as La Salle 
 christened it when he built the fort there. Yes, sir, 
 that's a human eye and was once in the magnificent 
 head of Pontiac himself. Now, nigh a century 
 afterwards, its purpose is mere 'medicine' the big 
 medicine, the biggest known; sacred, charmed, in- 
 violate. Why, Bundy, that thing's my guardian, my 
 protector, my mainstay through both life and 
 death. That's what an Indian's medicine means to 
 him his all in all. I'm white, but I've got my 
 'medicine' all the same. An odd trinket, isn't it, 
 to carry around one's neck through life? The idiocy 
 of the thing! Lord! I've been tempted to rid my- 
 self of the thing a hundred times. I detest the 
 thing! But damme, I am forced to carry the foul 
 thing through life!" 
 
 I watched him replace the chain and its strange 
 charm about his neck and we sat for some moments 
 close together before either of us spoke again.
 
 214 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 AN UNFOLDING OF THE NIGHT-MISTS. 
 
 T SAT idly fumbling the revolver, toasting the 
 * vension with my left hand. And the first word 
 was from me. "Don't you move!" I growled. 
 
 He started at the change in my voice, and 
 glanced sidewise at me to gaze into the hollow 
 barrel of the revolver in my right hand. I had 
 dropped, meanwhile, the toasting stick. 
 
 But he was not disconcerted in the least. 
 
 "Dave, you're false. I'm sorry. You're not 
 one to meet a man halfway. I expected Francois to 
 play me foul, but hardly thought this of you. I 
 trusted you to examine the weapon; and here you 
 take advantage of me. But don't for one moment 
 think that I am scared of you. You wouldn't pull 
 the trigger for your life. You're all bluff, Dave; as 
 harmless as a wind-blown leaf. Faugh! I'm well 
 minded to snatch that gun right out of your hand." 
 
 And to my astonishment he actually did make a 
 pass at it; but I jerked my hand, and as I jerked, my
 
 ONAWAGO 215 
 
 forefinger wrapped about the trigger too lovingly and 
 a belch of smoke and flame grazed the hand of 
 Bruce Long. The roar of the charge rolled down 
 the Hollow in undulating waves like the reverbrating 
 boom of thunder. For the succeeding moment the 
 the white powder-smoke screened Bruce from me; 
 and aprehensively I shrank back and slowly arose 
 to my knees, then to my feet, stepping sidewise for 
 a view of him. And well I did, for through the 
 muffling smoke he suddenly launched forward, leap- 
 ing at where, a second before, I had been. 
 
 "Stand where you are!" I cried threateningly, 
 again cocking the revolver. "Don't you dare move!" 
 
 He stopped in his tracks. 
 
 "Sit down," I commanded. 
 
 He silently refused. 
 
 "Sit down, I say." 
 
 And he sank cross-legged. 
 
 "I won't make you hold up your hands," I said 
 almost banteringly in the ecstasy of my truiumph, 
 "for I know you have no gun. But I'll have you sit 
 where you are and not a word from you, nor a 
 finger raised, because my finger's rebellious tonight." 
 
 "You're a bungler, Bundy," he retorted. "No- 
 thing but a bungler to force that trigger when you
 
 216 ONAWAGO 
 
 did. I considered you more worthy than such a 
 deed. Scarcely supposed you'd fire on a man un- 
 der no provocation. I trusted you and you've 
 played me false. Yes, you've the high hand now, 
 all right. But I've doubts as to you're holding it for 
 long. A bungler never wins out except through 
 sheer luck the luck's not your way just at present." 
 
 His irony hurt me, I answered him not. This 
 avenue of escape had voluntarily opened before me 
 and I meant to follow it up. Still with the revolver 
 leveled menacingly at him, unflinchingly I backed 
 pace by pace from him to the brush edge, bidding 
 Luxor follow. 
 
 One thing hindered and bothered. 'Twas fool- 
 hardiness attempting to escape with Long at liberty 
 to act as soon as I should draw away into the brush. 
 Yet there was nothing to bind him with. I thought 
 a momet, hesitating. Ah, yes, grapevine had served 
 me before as twine. But I had no knife. I dared 
 not lower the gun a sufficient length of time to twist 
 them in twain. I saw no recourse but to borrow 
 Long's knife, by force if need be. 
 
 I deliberately walked over to him and addressed 
 him perfunctorily.
 
 
 ONAWAGO 217 
 
 "Hand over your knife, Mr. Long, please. I 
 need it. 
 
 Reluctantly he reached into his trouser pocket 
 and drew it forth, handing it to me. 
 
 "You intend, I suppose, cleaving a passage for 
 yourself through that entanglement. Well, you've 
 a tedious and a mighty strength-trying job before you 
 then. But don't let the Breeds catch you slashing 
 the brush. They'll resent it. It's their safeguard 
 and they'll hate most awfully to have someone 
 meddle with it. You're taking a big risk attempting 
 to fight your way this foggy night out of this place. 
 I'll warrant you don't succeed, but here's the knife 
 anyway. It all depends on yourself henceforth." 
 
 I backed once more to the brush-edge, continu- 
 ing to hold the revolver leveled. A few paces within 
 it and I found without difficulty a twining woodbine 
 ivy. With one hand I cut three strands of the vine. 
 'Twas but a moment's work; then I walked back to 
 him, the while keeping him well covered with the 
 gun. Stepping behind him, I made him give me his 
 hands and without hesitancy. I was surprised at his 
 punctual acquiesence. A moment more and I 
 wrapped the woodbine about his wrists and drew it 
 tight, careless of the pain inflicted by the thongs.
 
 218 ONAWAGO 
 
 Then flinging an arm roughly about his neck, I threw 
 him on his back, and, reaching over pinioned his legs 
 with my weight and bound his ankles likewise. I 
 knelt upon him and wrapped the two remaining 
 vine-ropes about his ankles, gloating inwardly upon 
 my triumph, though in silence. Long uttered not a 
 word nor made an objection to my proceedings. 
 
 Suddenly Luxor crouched to the earth, glaring 
 menacingly and growling, making as though in pre- 
 paration for a spring. I glanced apprehensively be- 
 hind me, but even as I glanced, something fell heavily 
 upon me, embracing me, enveloping me in a 
 smothering wrapping, and, muffled nigh to suffoca- 
 tion, I felt myself lifted and borne away, whither I 
 did not know^ Through my covering, as from a 
 great distance and density, I heard a warning excla- 
 mation from Bruce Long, an oath, an answering 
 taunt, then again a threatening curse from him, a 
 loud, sharp bark from Luxor and the next moment 
 a weighty body launched heavily upon me, which I 
 knew was Luxor assailing my captor, whoever he 
 might be. Then I felt Luxor give way from off me. 
 Then all was silent. I felt myself carried some dis- 
 tance, then laid down gently. 
 
 At length I struggled with my great wrapping, but
 
 ONAWAGO 219 
 
 to no avail. I was powerless, pinioned motionless. 
 I felt for the revolver. It was gone. I remembered 
 then of having lain it aside in order to have both 
 hands with which to tie Bruce's ankles. I felt for his 
 pen-knife. Ah, it was in my pocket. My blood 
 surged with a great bound. Moving with utmost 
 difficulty I unclasped its small blade. Puncturing the 
 covering about me, I sawed a lengthy downward slit; 
 then another and another through various thick- 
 nesses, and, at length, I beheld the moonlight. Part- 
 ing the slits I crawled through the opening and re- 
 covered my feet. Dense brush on all sides hemmed 
 me in. The night fog blurred the heavens, through 
 which the moonlight pierced, feeble and wan. I 
 stood alone. Luxor was nowhere near; neither was 
 Bruce. I wondered, mystified, at the sudden and in- 
 explicable transformation of my position. 
 
 But one thing I did see, for there in the gloom, 
 standing forth through the mists, I discerned the 
 barren slope of a sand hill. I lost not a moment in 
 striking for and reaching it, I began laboriously 
 trudging up its steep side, the sand slipping and giving 
 way beneath my feet and flowing to the base. As I 
 clambered and strove slowly upward, the sand ankle 
 deep and tenacious, inwardly furious at my tedious
 
 220 ONAWAGO 
 
 progress, weakening through the strain of endeavor, 
 yet with all, thanking Providence for my strange and 
 baffling deliverance through whose agency I knew 
 not, I suddenly stopped short in my breathless climb, 
 and clung for support to a sassafras, my heart sinking 
 like lead in my breast, my brain reeling, an unnerv- 
 ing nausea throughout me for I had reached a 
 goodly elevation. I had looked down and to one 
 side; and, as I looked, a trifling night-breath had 
 caught and swirled the mists upward in an eddying 
 current. Through this breach of a second's duration 
 through the night air and the unobstructed moon- 
 light, down there to the left beneath me, in a small 
 clearing in the thicket in the hollow, glowed the 
 embers of a fire. And there beside the fire, strong 
 within the glow, lay outstretched the long, lithe form 
 of Luxor, motionless perhaps lifeless. And there 
 to my sorrow to the chilling of my blood to the 
 reeling of my senses to the infusing of weakness 
 throughout my already weakened physique there 
 stood Long, his hands still bound, though his feet 
 were free. His head hung despondently despair 
 incarnate, though he watched without a flinch and 
 with a cold scornful expression, the antics and enact- 
 ments of Francois and Dominque. To my horror I
 
 ONAWAGO 221 
 
 saw they were building a fire. A stake already 
 had been implanted beside it. Then the mists blew 
 back and I saw no more. 
 
 I doubted not that they had failed to reckon upon 
 Bruce's penknife being in my possession. 
 
 For the moment that I stood there on the hill- 
 slope well nigh stunned, I refused to credit my eye- 
 sight. Could not this dread vision, glimpsed through 
 the unfolding of the night mists have been, after all, 
 naught but mere illusion some phantom of my 
 fevered imagination? I waited hopefully for one 
 other stirring night breath to waft aside the vapor, 
 that I might verify my own sanity. Yet, though I 
 waited, sacrificing invaluable time, there came no 
 parting of the fogs. Then I slunk silently back down 
 the hill. 
 
 For what could be viler murder on my part than 
 to leave him to a fate such as this.
 
 222 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 THE SHADE OF PONTIAC. 
 
 A S a feline stalks its quarry, I slipped along in the 
 -*"*- direction of the fire, crawling for the most 
 part on all fours in order to avoid the betraying 
 rustle of the frost-crisp foliage that I should brush 
 against in my passage. An age it seemed, when fin- 
 ally, I heard distinctly a voice that served to direct 
 me to my goal. 'Twas the imperious voice of Bruce 
 Long. 
 
 "Dogs! You'll suffer. What think you I may 
 care for a few minutes torture? While you roast me 
 and linger here in your infernal folly, through your 
 short-sightedness, he'll escape. Mark my words! 
 He'll escape. The ants aren't out till daybreak; and 
 even then it will take hours for them to eat through 
 the bear hides before they can get at him." 
 
 "By gar! De ants dey needs meats for dees wint- 
 air. Now dey feas' dees day, now soon. Great 
 beeg feas', they haf! Dominique and Francois dey
 
 GNAW AGO 223 
 
 haf beeg feas' too, sometam, now soon, queek, Ha! 
 Ha! Now soon, queek!" 
 
 It was Francois chuckling to himself, with face- 
 tious anticipation that made ominous reply to Bruce 
 Long's admonitions. 
 
 "But I tell you he'll get away! Damme if I don't 
 hope he does!" 
 
 Meanwhile I had glided noiselessly forward, and 
 now was witness of the blood-curdling scene before 
 me. From where I lay crouched behind the skirt- 
 ing bush and well within its shadow, as I looked for- 
 ward upon that dread scene, I was drunk with the 
 appalling horror that should soon be enacted before 
 my eyes enacted unless I interfered. Interfere! And 
 to what purpose? I, in my enfeebled state, physic- 
 ally, against two such brawn as they! 
 
 Bruce Long was tied to a stake, tied by his hands 
 which were still behind him. His feet were bound 
 to its base. A heap of firewood lay in waiting close 
 by. Our original fire still smouldered shortly to one 
 side. Luxor still lay outstretched and motionless 
 within its warmth, though with gladness well nigh un- 
 unsuppressible I discerned he breathed breathed in 
 short jerking gasps. 
 
 "Fools! Pile on your brush! You haven't
 
 224 ONAWAGO 
 
 enough in your whole accursed gully to scorch my 
 finger-tips! Pile it on! Heap it up! For while 
 you're heaping it up he'll escape! You're both 
 dead dogs. He'll have the whole country popula- 
 tion for twenty miles around here upon you. But 
 pile it on, fools! Heap it up! There's a stick over 
 there you've missed!" 
 
 Meanwhile he strained heavily upon his hand 
 bonds, though futilely. Now he straightened up; then 
 lurched suddenly forward from them, wrenching the 
 stake within its socket. Yet his fetters gave not. 
 Then with face pale and determined, though hope- 
 less, he re-straightened to his full height and stood 
 calmly regarding the breeds with a cynical sneer 
 upon his face regarded them while they gathered 
 the brush-branch firewood, their dark faces alight 
 with fiendish blood-thirst. 
 
 Luxor moved and I saw his eyes open. Dom- 
 inique saw also. Quickly he snatched from the 
 ground a long raw-hide thong and a moment more 
 he had secured it about Luxor's neck, whereupon he 
 yanked the old dog to his feet and dragged him 
 over, tied him close behind Bruce Long's legs, 
 where Luxor sank faint, with a low groan, to the 
 earth. Ah, then both were to burn together! burn
 
 ONAWAGO 225 
 
 together, unless I interfered! And yet and yet I 
 was not certain that in the extremity I should not 
 dare the risk! 
 
 I carefully scanned the ground within the fire- 
 light. Then at length I discerned the object of my 
 search. The revolver lay half imbedded in the sand 
 near where Bruce had lain during my taking him 
 prisoner. Yes, there it lay half hidden, but 
 could I get it possibly procure it without rash jeop- 
 ardy? Verily no! It was too full within the radius 
 of the firelight and too near the Breeds' present 
 position. I lay and silently considered. 
 
 Then stealthily I edged around the brush until 
 directly opposite the revolver. And there I lay in 
 readiness. 
 
 My attention reverted again to Bruce. He still 
 stood at full height, sardonically intent upon the 
 Breeds. Then suddenly while both of them were 
 bent in gathering an armful of fuel, I saw Bruce 
 snatch a deep breath. Instantly from his opened 
 lips burst forth the terrible squall of a panther. 
 Francois with an agile bound was athis throat. I heard 
 Long's gutteral strangulations as the violent Breed 
 throttled him. My nails dug deep into my palms in 
 the suppression of my fury. For the moment I was
 
 226 ONAWAGO 
 
 strongly tempted to rush from my hiding place 
 and vent my worst upon the two fiends through 
 means of the revolver's god-sent aid. But perforce 
 I withheld my passion, and in an agony of awful 
 suspense, awaited the development of this warning, 
 voiced but now by Bruce. 
 
 To my horror and apprehension I saw the mad- 
 dened Breed tear open Long's collar, and reach- 
 ing therein wrench forth with violence the Medicine 
 Eye. Fearful, awestruck, and horrified I watched 
 him fling the thing, chain and all, into the fire. 
 Spellbound, I watched it there among -the coals, 
 glistening and glittering strangely, glaring wildly as 
 though with cunning calculation glare until my 
 sight could scarce withstand the strange penetrating 
 glitter. Then it vanished. A small ring of ashes 
 was left where it had lain. Ah, God! How quickly 
 it had vanished! And, ah, God! That which I be- 
 held even as it vanished! For while it lay there 
 glittering virulently, it seemed to me that the smoke 
 of the fire had taken form taken the shadowy form 
 of a human figure the form of a magnificent and 
 powerful warrior, draped in all the splendid regalia 
 of his wargear, had taken form of the smoke and 
 stooping had plucked the trinket from the coals.
 
 ONAWAGO 227 
 
 Then both had vanished. The shade of Pontiac had 
 reclaimed his own! Yet none came. The surround- 
 ing stillness, the chill night air and the gloomy 
 moonlight, the mists, the vapor-enshrouded recesses 
 of the Hollow and that horrid scene before me, 
 luminated by our own late fire flashing wierdly, re- 
 posed and endured throughout it all. I lay cower- 
 ing, awe-stricken by that which I beheld. Suddenly 
 a whistle broke the tensity a shrill, quavering 
 whistle followed closely by two identical others, each 
 long drawn out and shaping responsive echoes from 
 the surrounding hills. 
 
 Melancholy dread crept upon me. I saw 'Lux' 
 shift his stub ears and the Breeds for a moment were 
 silent, probably also terrified by that which I had 
 seen I saw them glance sharply at one another and 
 with every sense alert listen attentively, exhibiting 
 the selfsame keenness as the hound when he strikes the 
 fresh scent of the quarry. Preconcerted understand- 
 ing existed between them for neither spoke nor ut- 
 tered a single exclamation. The whistle's last dying 
 echoes had subsided and the old irksome silence had 
 again closed in, when suddenly it was repeated, this 
 time in three shorter blasts, louder than previously 
 but with selfsame quiver.
 
 228 ONAWAGO 
 
 Simultaneously each Breed turned, and, before I 
 could comprehend our great fortune, had glided 
 stealthily away into the thicket. 
 
 J crouched for some time in a sort of daze before 
 I guessed fully the situation. Then cautiously I 
 crept forth from my hiding, and with surging 
 thanksgiving that set my nerves tingling, I felt the 
 cold steel of the revolver firmly within my hand be- 
 fore I ventered a word to Bruce. 
 
 He stood lurched forward with down-drooped 
 head, utter dejection written upon his handsome 
 face. He saw me not close beside him before I 
 spoke and then he started. As the shock of his sur- 
 prise wore off, he regarded me complacently and 
 with a smile. 
 
 "Gad! Can I believe my senses, Dave? Why, 
 how the deuce came you here? You're supposed to 
 be forage for ants to winter on. Nice fate for a man 
 to be eaten alive, devoured piece-meal, atom by 
 atom, until death delivers you from the hideous 
 agony. But <;ome, explain how you're here and un- 
 scratched? They are after you now." 
 
 I told him briefly. But during the while I lost 
 no time. With his own pen-knife I severed his
 
 ONAWAGO 229 
 
 bonds and stood him free. Then Luxor likewise 
 though 'Lux' was almost too weak to move. 
 
 "Now come, Long," I said, "we're going out 
 of here without a second's delay. We'll 
 carry Luxor into the brush here apace where the 
 Breeds shall not aptly discover him and there leave 
 him to care for himself till his strength returns and 
 he can get home of his own accord. Come now, they 
 may be back in a minute." 
 
 "Not much, Bundy. It's not meet that you 
 should leave this Hollow. 'Twould be impossible 
 for you to get out of here now, as well as old Luxor 
 himself. You're both doomed together. Your fates 
 are the same. Of course I know full sure they dare not 
 burn him though they would me. Tis decreed 
 you shall both die together. And, Bundy, even 
 though I might assist you in escaping, 'twould prove 
 useless, because I should be thwarted in my purpose. 
 She wills, and you, Luxor and I, all of us, obey. We 
 are powerless to do otherwise." 
 
 "Long, listen to me. Those Breeds shall both 
 die, and you too, if need be, but I shall escape from 
 here. More than for my own good do I declare 
 and shall ultimately enforce this threat. Martha, her 
 mother, my own mother and little Mary, and above
 
 230 GNAW AGO 
 
 all Dick and Jean, besides myself, hang helpless upon 
 this one purpose of escaping, in which I shall suc- 
 ceed or myself die in the attempt. Now, I mean 
 every syllable I say, so don't balk or act glum, but 
 follow me, for I am going this very moment." 
 
 I ceased speaking because of a crackle in the near- 
 by brush. Quickly I stepped with my back to the 
 fire, my revolver cocked, desperation for the mo- 
 ment calming my overwrought nerves. 
 
 "Now you obey me, Long, or by heaven, I'll pull 
 this on you before I do on the Breeds. There's 
 four loads left plenty. Stand aside there." 
 
 Bruce nonchalantly stepped aside, though I kept 
 my eye well on him. No sooner had he done so 
 than I distinguished the dim outlines of the Breeds 
 within the cover of the brush. They paused there, 
 I deem, with surprise at my occupancy of their late 
 scene of barbarism, and myself in charge through the 
 medium of death-dealing lead. 
 
 Now I saw them step quickly together and con- 
 verse a moment designedly. Meanwhile I main- 
 tained my attitude of defiance of both them and 
 Bruce. But as I held the heavy pistol at arms length 
 and at full cock, in "ready," suddenly, with sharp 
 impact, something struck it from my hand, tingling
 
 ONAWAGO 231 
 
 my finger with benumbing pain and glancing down 
 at my feet, I beheld a good sized pebble where it had 
 just fallen. Then before I could act, Bruce had sprung 
 nimbly forward in low bent posture, darted past me 
 like a wraith, and gathered the gun from the 
 ground as he passed. As he stopped short close to 
 me he was laughing softly to himself. 
 
 "Now, you infernal hell-hounds, come out of 
 that brush. Hear ye? Step up here or I'll send a 
 quick and dutiful errand-runner after you that'll not 
 pause for parleying. Walk right up here. This is 
 no time for conflabbing. You're beaten at your 
 own game; so march right up and be gentlemen 
 hounds though you are!" 
 
 To my astonishment the Breeds came slowly for- 
 ward, their sensual faces wreathed in smiles. I sus- 
 pected that some low-lived deviltry still lurked be- 
 neath such placid conduct. But as they advanced into 
 our area Bruce frustrated any such intentions as they 
 may have had, for he walked deliberately up to them 
 and with brazen defiance thrust the gaping muzzle 
 of that large horse pistol first into Francois' face and 
 then into Dominique's. His bantering served to 
 cow them. 
 
 "Now you stand there and without a move! This
 
 232 ONAWAGO 
 
 is no infant's toying hereafter. Either of you move 
 a finger and I'll blow you now no use objecting. 
 I'm going to care for you both and in grand style. 
 It grieves me to see you running thus at large and 
 especially at night. Now Dave, just step around 
 here and bedeck them with ribbons. But pray, be 
 gentle!" 
 
 He beckoned me indifferently to a small coil of 
 raw-hide strips which I deemed had been the property 
 of the Breeds. And, sparing no time in useless de- 
 liberation, I procured them and made haste to per- 
 form his will to secure the two Breeds both hand 
 and foot even as they had secured me. I performed 
 it readily and with an intoxicating delight of retali- 
 ation. Some several minutes later they lay entirely 
 at our mercy, bound both hand and foot and gagged 
 in order that they should not summon untimely suc- 
 cor. Then in an exuberance of triumph, Bruce 
 turned to me. 
 
 "Now, Bundy, it's your turn. I'm bound in 
 duty to do this same to yourself. You, too, 'd prove 
 a menace if at large. Even Luxor has to be held in 
 restraint. He too might want to know too 
 much. So don't bother about resisting because I'll 
 hate like sixty to put you in worse shape than you
 
 ONAWAGO 233 
 
 are already though I'll promise I'll not hesitate too 
 long before giving it to you. You've done me a 
 most kindly service tonight, Dave, in delivering me 
 from the vengeance of these two curs. Gads, 'twould 
 be a relief to pull a trigger on each one separately! 
 Twould relieve me of a lot of worry in our behalf 
 for the balance of the day before I come again tonight, 
 for you see it's nigh dawn now. It's already graying 
 in the east. The moon's paling. So I'll have to be 
 going. Now, don't kick up any unnecessary rumpus 
 but accept these little strings like a man. This gun 
 almost refused to behave itself seemly." 
 
 With his unperturbed candor he already was 
 wrapping those hateful thongs of rawhide about my 
 wrists then about my ankles and I lay helpless 
 though thankfully alive prostrate upon the bare 
 ground. Then Bruce made Luxor fast to me and 
 immediately turned to leave. Then a new thought 
 seemed to be his, for he came back beside me and 
 kneeling, began earnestly in a sunken whisper: 
 
 "There's a secret concering you and your life 
 the one and the only thing upon which the scales 
 are now balancing and that one thing is Luxor, yes 
 old Luxor here. Yet perhaps perhaps no, not till
 
 234 ONAWAGO 
 
 later shall I tell you this. Yes, some other time will 
 serve better and the subject will keep. I shall return 
 shortly before midnight. But while I am gone I fore- 
 warn you warn you that as you value your life 
 warn you to beware that no harm befalls. Good 
 night and fare you well! But remember, Dave, that 
 I forewarn you that as you value your life, beware no 
 harm befalls this dog!" 
 
 He arose to his feet. Then with a backward 
 glance and a smile, a genial wave of the hand, he 
 was gone the cloud of mystery in which we moved 
 rising ever blacker before me. For the moment 
 succeeding Long's departure, I lay in a state almost 
 of stupefaction, endeavoring to unravel, at least, one 
 thread of the mystery entangled about old Luxor and 
 myself. In almost a state of stupefaction I say, for 
 my mind, blurred by all the glamor of the late 
 events, could grasp not the strangeness of it all. As 
 I lay there before the dying fire upon one side, gaz- 
 ing into it ponderingly, it all seemed unreal and im- 
 possible, and with difficulty could I impress upon 
 myself that it all was not, in fact, some weird and 
 fantastic hallucination, and that, finally, I should not 
 awake to discover it verily such.
 
 ONAWAGO 235 
 
 Then as I lay there my lethargy incensed me and 
 with mind close to dormancy and with my faithful 
 Luxor huddled close beside me, I drowsed slowly 
 into dreamless oblivion.
 
 236 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW. 
 
 "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 
 I will fear no evil." 
 
 mother's voice seemed speaking in my sleep, 
 this old familiar passage. I stirred and awoke, 
 opening my eyes to broad daylight. Once again it 
 rang within my ears as from some unseen messenger. 
 Troth, it was soothing sweet! I breathed it aloud, 
 lingeringly, fondly, caressingly imbibing hushed 
 contentment from its divine solace. 
 
 My rest had been dreamless and profound. 
 Freed from fatigue was I when I awoke, having 
 slept to late afternoon, much to my surprise. I felt 
 somewhat my usual self, though a haze hung before 
 my eyes and a dull ache lay above them. My brain 
 seemed full and giddy; and I was cold, every 
 muscle of my body cringing with cold and seemingly 
 having stiffened rigid. Flat on my back, I lay, shack- 
 led as it were, upon the chill sand without even 
 so much as a straw beneath me, my blood coursing
 
 ONAWAGO 237 
 
 frigid within my veins frigid until I seemed be- 
 numbed as though partially lifeless and so stiffened 
 that with utmost difficulty I turned on my side. 
 
 Meanwhile, as in a sort of delirium, that sooth- 
 ing "Yea, though I walk through the valley of 
 the shadow of death," reiterated continually through 
 my mind, which words I repeated constantly to my- 
 self, pronouncing them over and over again as might 
 some child upon learning some new word, and found 
 fascination in its utterance. 
 
 Close about me grew the stunted growth of the 
 Hollow, and as I lay there upon my side I looked 
 down the long length of the great gulley out through 
 the narrow gap and onto the rippless surface of old 
 Michigan. The sullen, frowning bluffs that gave 
 opening only at this narrow gap, shone white in the 
 mellow sunlight of the late afternoon. The sun him- 
 self stood behind the high sand-mountain that 
 towered above us, casting its sombre shadow over 
 the entire length of the hollow, draping it with dusk 
 and depressing chill. I found my bivouac to be near 
 the mountain's base on a very slight elevation and a 
 gradual declivity of which I had been unaware last 
 evening. Thus I was enabled to observe to a cer- 
 tainty our position. I commanded a fairly general
 
 238 ONAWAGO 
 
 view. On either side the giant hill described a some- 
 what circuitous though irregular sweep; and skirting 
 this sweep ran the hollow somber and silent as it 
 now lay in shadow, except for a fitful breath of wind 
 that fanned from the lake, flitting and whispering 
 down the great gulch. And it fanned gratefully my 
 fevered brow as I lay there gazing listlessly about my 
 surroundings regardless and careless of the world 
 as it shone sumptuously in its autumnal glory list- 
 less as I gazed upward and watched the drift of a few 
 fleecy clouds lazily straggle across heaven's cerulean 
 vault listless of their unimpaired splendor as the 
 afternoon sun, striking obliquely upon them, bathed 
 their upper parts snow-white, their nether parts deli- 
 cious lilac. For down here beneath them, cheerless, 
 chilling and in the pitiable plight of my extraordi- 
 nary lot, the gigantic sand dune's shadow reclining 
 across the valley, added soulless spirit to my despair. 
 Directly across the hollow swept the low sullen 
 rise of a rather diminutive dune, its long ridge-crest 
 extending the entire length of the deep gully down 
 upon which its bleak sides frowned austerely in the 
 bask of the afternoon sun. The few dwarfed bushes 
 that clung to its well nigh desert slopes, had dyed to 
 dull sienna their summer coats. A fringe of sassa-
 
 GNAW AGO 239 
 
 fras and scrawny poplar crowned its flattened top. 
 One solitary and scraggy oak reared upon the sum- 
 mit his grotesque arms, contrasting his bronzed 
 foliage with the dark green of three Norway pines 
 and the whitened, weather-bleached skeleton of a 
 long dead brother. 
 
 Thus I endured the balance of that afternoon, 
 gazing out through the gap upon the tranquil surface, 
 so darkly green and oily smooth, of the Great Lake, 
 gazing dreamily over at the opposite dune's austere 
 slopes and gazing listlessly upward into the azure 
 blue heavens, watching those few fleecy clouds assume 
 their sundry diversifications. 
 
 Thus, I say, I lived the balance of the afternoon 
 but not thus, for my poor powers of colloquy 
 picture not a tenth my suspense and my anxiety; a 
 tenth my dread of the uncertainty of the future and 
 knowledge of my awaiting doom as culmination to 
 it all, nor a tenth the agony rendered by the awful 
 realization that on my helplessness rested solely the 
 fortunes and futures of several innocent lives. I 
 brooded and studied upon my extraordinary lot as I 
 lay there upon my side staring absent-mindedly up- 
 ward into the cloud flecked sky. Every phase, one 
 by one, I attempted to extricate from the conflicting
 
 240 ONAWAGO 
 
 maze of mystery; until at length, having exhausted 
 futily every phase mentionable, I would bring to 
 mind all trivial incidents of the late past; but from 
 these I would eventually drift back upon my own 
 present enigmatical problem, and brood and ponder 
 anew. 
 
 I could with effort move but little more. The 
 Breeds still lay bound and gagged, awake, though 
 undemonstrative. Luxor, tied to my own weight, 
 stretched beside me at full length, long, gaunt, un- 
 gainly, his head resting between his great paws, his 
 short black coat glossing in the reflected sunlight and 
 his spare sides heaving measuredly with each breath. 
 Well I can see him again in the eye of my fancy, as 
 he lay there with closed eyes, though anon opening 
 them to reassure himself, with a fleeting glance, of 
 my safety. How I envied his rest, his unperturbed 
 composure, while I, with nerve-racking anxiety, must 
 drone away the seconds of those age-like hours. I 
 wondered, in a strange sort of way, would these age- 
 like hours ever pass? Would midnight ever come? 
 Would Bruce Long ever return? I wondered would 
 I live then, because now I began apprehending 
 death as proximate, though meaningless, feeling the 
 terrible purport of its fathomless dread that comes to
 
 ONAWAGO 241 
 
 a man that dread born of nature and imbued im- 
 mutably into the human heart now coming to me 
 in the guise of some vague, approaching calamity, 
 bereft of pleasure, void of sorrow. But, after all, 
 would it not come as a welcome deliverer? 
 
 Why had Bruce refrained from disclosing that 
 something that night when so close upon the verge 
 of it? Whyfore should he warn me that as I valued 
 my life, beware no harm befell Luxor? What con- 
 necting link could exist between the life of my old 
 dog and my own? 
 
 Thus in my languor and my insensate condition, 
 I lived the day almost through, watching the trans- 
 figuration of the wandering clouds, until my atten- 
 tion became suddenly arrested by one other. It was 
 nearing sunset. The sun had swept low into the 
 west and into view from where I lay. The entire 
 west was aflame; and from out its fiery expanse the 
 blood red sun streamed his golden shafts full upon 
 me, lengthwise, through the gap from where he 
 hovered low above the broad margin of the lake. 
 Then it was that a great, black thunder head sudden- 
 ly thrust its gigantic bulk above the lake's horizon 
 and, slowly ascending, blotted out the face of the 
 magnificent orb of day.
 
 242 ONAWAGO 
 
 Then instantly I started, and with the surprise of 
 the moment, hitched myself to a sitting posture; for 
 against the gigantic thunder-head as a background, 
 was pictured at rest upon the motionless waters, the 
 full-rigged but drooping sails of a small schooner.
 
 ONAWAGO 243 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 THE LIGHT ON THE LAKE. 
 
 "VTIGHT at length came, and I expectantly awaited 
 -* ^ Bruce Long, hoping against hope that he might 
 perchance change his mind and return before mid- 
 night, which had, in sooth, been the proposed period 
 of his return. For with the darkness and the nightly 
 stillness brooding heavily upon the hollow, I cringed 
 with secret dread dread engendered of my lone- 
 liness, my disconsolate isolation and helplessness and 
 peril. But more anxious than merely for his com- 
 panionable presence was I to learn the nature of that 
 which he had deemed it best to withhold from me 
 last night; the mystery of Luxor's life and my own. 
 
 An half hour of utter darkness after sunset before 
 dim glimmerings the rising moon paled the east. 
 Then I settled back full length and lay and watched 
 her swing into view in the east-north-east, soaring 
 majestically from out the black forest waste and 
 slowly ascending, throwing in grim silhouette the 
 ink black side of the sand mountain that cut obliquely
 
 244 ONAWAGO 
 
 in perspective across her flooding radiance. As she 
 sailed serenely heavenward my troubled spirit 
 stilled beneath her calm and benign splendor, and I 
 lay staring vacantly upward into the moonlight and 
 the starlight, with my soul soothed, lulled to care- 
 free ennui and a sub-conscious drowse, while again 
 through my tired brain sped softly as the purling of 
 a babbling stream, that old familiar passage: "Yea, 
 though I walk through the valley of the shadow of 
 death, I will fear no evil." 
 
 Yet even so, the waiting seemed endless and 
 every hour an age. As slowly one by one the 
 minutes dragged past, and slowly one by one ac- 
 cumulated into hours, Long came not. Hour 
 mounted hour-and still he came not; during the while 
 the silver moon soared toward her zenith, until at 
 length, as the late hours approached, in black gloom 
 the precipitous side of the giant hill rose for several 
 hundred feet above me against the brilliancy of the 
 moonbeams. 
 
 Upon the hills and upon the Hollow and upon 
 all nature brooded breathless calm a ghostly calm 
 in the wan, white moonlight. Over all hung close 
 aground the thin hoar mist that rises during this sea- 
 son of the year in the lowlands at the setting of the
 
 GNAW AGO 245 
 
 sun. Across the Hollow, the long lesser dune re- 
 posed mute, well nigh barren* its slope blanching 
 lurid beneath the moon's white radiance. But for 
 this ultra brilliancy of the moon, 'twould well have 
 been some night of mid-summer. With the sun 
 down, the air had warmed slightly and was now 
 balmy, conveying to the senses the subtle touch of 
 sweetness peculiar to mid-summer gloamings. Yet, 
 throughout it all, brooded this unbroken silence. 
 For the night and earth and even God's firmament 
 itself, seemed dumbed dumbed with fear and awe, 
 fearful for that which I divined was afoot divined 
 through presentment. Yet, even so, I half credited 
 this selfsame presentment to my own temperament 
 this night and to my imagination. 
 
 A soft translucent haze in the vast dome of 
 heaven gave access to but the brighter orbs. Through 
 this as through some filmy veil the moon shed her 
 silver light, herself some several degrees yet to the 
 east of her zenith. Glorious in her full radiance 
 she shone majestic and serene as though unaware 
 that over in the west, over across and upon the livid 
 and forbidding blackness of the watery plane, gradu- 
 ally neared the belligerent and already contending 
 forces of the ethereal that should soon dethrone her
 
 246 ONAWAGO 
 
 from her reign of this night, over our earth forces 
 that in their contention offered exceptional and 
 marvellous diversion so in contrast to her peaceful 
 and ghostly calm. 
 
 For banking her west, filling the entire west up- 
 ward from its horizon, reaching out and gradually 
 extending eastward, a black, ominous storm-cloud 
 crept across the sky. Tier upon tier of storm-moun- 
 tain was reared high heavenward into mighty thun- 
 der heads. Upon this grand frontier of cloud-play 
 the silver moonlight streamed slantwise, tipping each 
 rugged knob or pinacle with purest snow while 
 each crevice and embrasure lay dark in deepest 
 mauve. I lay with unabashed awe and unsuppressed 
 appreciation as I watched them thus tower their stu- 
 pendous hulks and constantly edge forward for- 
 ward upon the calm domain of nature. 
 
 The black forbidding underparts of the clouds, 
 the black forbidding waters of the lake and all 
 therein blended to utter oblivion pierced solely by 
 the blazing and flashing of afar-off tongued lightn- 
 ing. Dull, sullen grumbles of distant thunder rolled 
 at intervals across the vast breadth of intermediate 
 waters; and I noticed that the shoreward waters of 
 the until now oily smooth bosom of the grand old
 
 ONAWAGO 247 
 
 lake were by degrees becoming agitated by the ag- 
 gravation on the farther deep. 
 
 And then and then I stared, strained my eyes 
 and stared, stared until they smarted and ached and 
 seemed to burst their sockets. For could it be, or 
 was it optical illusion? that instantaneous flash, that 
 uncertain far-away glimmer of light from out the 
 blackness of the fast-approaching storm? Again the 
 same feeble, flickering ray aye, and more steady 
 and lasting this time, then once more fading from 
 sight. I remembered then remember the vessel, 
 the small sailing vessel pictured at sunset in the dead 
 calm of the wind, full-rigged against the blackness of 
 the gigantic thunder-head upon the horizon. 
 
 "Well, Bundy, how fares the night? Beautiful, 
 isn't it? And exciting too, I'll bet, to you. Enjoy- 
 ing your hours of perfect leisure, I'll wot!" 
 
 It was Bruce Long's voice that interrupted my 
 eye-strained observation of the light out on the lake. 
 By his tone of voice alone I knew he was tonight his 
 old indomitable self again, brusque, talkative and 
 animated, not morbid and demure as last evening. 
 He was out of breath and flushed with the exertion 
 of his walk. He was dressed identically as last night. 
 In the silken lapel of his coat was thrust one single
 
 248 ONAWAGO 
 
 late fall woods-violet. I knew almost to a cer- 
 tainty and with a bitter pang at my heart, whose 
 hand had placed it there. 
 
 "Long ways from midnight yet, but the folks 
 were worn out and so retired early, giving me an 
 opportunity to skip out somewhat earlier than 
 usual." 
 
 He was thoughtful a moment, contemplatively 
 glancing over at the breeds. 
 
 "Nice state of affairs, this here: two dogs tied 
 away from two others. One dog tied to another. 
 Two dogs tied away from the first dog; one dog 
 tied away from the other two, and all four dead anx- 
 ious to get at each other's throats. Fancy compli- 
 cation of friendships, I must say! Reckon the breeds 
 must have been chatting sociably with those wooden 
 plugs in their mouths! Overheard any objections, 
 Bundy? Lord, they must love me for this! Any- 
 how their love's returned in ample amount, because 
 I sure do love them." 
 
 "Then with a smile Long turned to me. 
 
 "I'd as soon and with as few scruples shoot the 
 
 dogs where they lie as bruise the heads of so many 
 
 rattlers!" I watched his hand seek involuntarily his 
 
 hip pocket, a cynical smile compressing his thin lips.
 
 ONAWAGO 249 
 
 "But come! Time presses. I'm only going to stay 
 a couple of minutes else I get soaked. That storm's 
 coming up pretty fast; and it's going to be a big one 
 too. Here, I've brought you a few bites. Dispose 
 of what little there is in as short order as possible; 
 divide with Luxor, while I build a little blaze here 
 for your temporary comfort." 
 
 While talking he had cut the thongs from my 
 wrists and ankles, untied Luxor from me, handed 
 me a small package of luncheon, wrapped in heavy 
 paper and bound with strong hemp cord, and then 
 set about kindling the fire. He was building it of 
 brushwood and starting it with a few dry leaves. 
 Repeatedly it refused to burn and several matches 
 he wasted matches which were, every one, a treas- 
 ure in my eyes and while he strove with the fire, 
 I, in turn, strove to undo the cords from about my 
 luncheon, until suddenly a ruse flashed into my 
 mind. 
 
 "I give it up, Long, trying to open this lunch, 
 these knots which you have managed to make are as 
 hard as rocks. My fingers are numb from cold and 
 their late bandage. Here, open it for me. I'm well 
 nigh starved." 
 
 "What'll you have to say in a couple of weeks
 
 250 ONAWAGO 
 
 from now about being starved, if you're starved al- 
 ready? Last night you affirmed a man didn't starve 
 in a day. Luckily, opinions vary. But no matter, 
 hand it here. That fire at last does act like business. 
 Guess it's going to blaze some after all!" 
 
 I watched him, an anxious thought in mind. He 
 did as I had planned, whipped out his pocket knife 
 and slashed in twain the cords. But even as he 
 cut them, I seized him roughly by the arm. 
 "Look!" I cried and pointed lakewards. He started. 
 "What!" he gasped and the words died on his lips, 
 for, at the instant, true to my plans, the light out on 
 the lake had flashed. He had seen. "My God!" 
 he exclaimed, and then again,- "My God!" It 
 seemed that he could not force another word from 
 his lips. 
 
 "Don't you see it?" I fairly shouted with com- 
 pelled enthusiasm, my stratagem paramount in 
 mind. I was all but non-plussed by this extraordi- 
 nary behavior of his, so unexpected. "Don't you 
 see it, sir; don't you see the light that light out 
 there on the lake?" 
 
 He brushed a hand across his face as though 
 brushing away cobwebs. 
 
 "Is this a dream?" I heard him softly articulate
 
 ONAWAGO 251 
 
 though I perforce bent closer to him in order to 
 catch his words. 
 
 "Not unless I too, am dreaming," I made answer. 
 But at the same time I clutched his hand gently 
 within mine his which held the knife and, to my 
 surprise, I found his hand colder than my own cold 
 one and clammy with perspiration and the fingers 
 twitching with nervous contortion. Gradually and 
 unbeknown to him I eased the small steel prize into 
 my own grasp, thence slipped it into the ground and 
 buried it with my free hand, meantime continuing 
 my discourse upon the light. 
 
 "It's a vessel, Long, a small, sailing schooner, a 
 lumber-barge mayhap. She's lain out there be- 
 calmed all day. See, the light flashes again! It's a 
 feeble ray to carry up no better than that. She's 
 not so very far out, either. Perchance a few miles, I 
 should judge, maybe less. Rather close ashore to 
 face a storm from that quarter. Chances are she'll 
 have a tough time of it before this night is done." 
 
 Almost with alarm on my part, I found Bruce 
 momentarily becoming more unnerved, very strange- 
 ly, mysteriously unnerved. We both were kneeling 
 together, close beside our newly kindled fire, whose 
 warmth was dispelling the chill from my lately be-
 
 252 ONAWAGO 
 
 numbed limbs crackling furiously much too near 
 Long for his comfort, methought. But far was he 
 from noting the heat. Instead he knelt there beside 
 me, my hand hold of his arm, my voice loud in his 
 ear knelt there more like unto some stony image 
 than an actual living, breathing man. He leaned 
 far forward, his face out-thrust, hands clenched, arms 
 clutched at his sides, their muscles rigid and a-trem- 
 ble with some unaccountable emotion, his breath 
 but gasps. For a fleeting moment I confess that I 
 bethought me of treachery, of seizing this oppor- 
 tunity, of pinning him suddenly to earth while help- 
 less in this strange inebriation of his, and but sud- 
 denly he thwarted my sinister designs by springing 
 to his feet and striding rapidly to and fro across the 
 cleared area about the fire, his eyes never flinching 
 from off that intermittent ray of light out on the lake. 
 His face shone ashy gray in the wan beams of the 
 firelight and the moonbeams as they alternately 
 played upon him in his pacing. His mouth was 
 downward drawn; the left corner twitched convul- 
 sively. A scowl furrowed his fine forehead. His 
 eyelids narrowed to slits; and in all, not only his 
 physiognomy, but his entire physical delineation was 
 haggard; his cheeks seemed suddenly to have sunken
 
 ONAWAGO 253 
 
 away; he was hollow-eyed; his lower jaw drooped 
 dejectedly; he seemed utterly worn out with not only 
 physical but also mental fatigue. His shoulders 
 stooped, and although his pace was rapid it was with 
 a slouching gait that he strode restively before the 
 fire. 
 
 I no longer withheld, but commenced eating, 
 sharing with Luxor piece by piece, and dividing my 
 attention betwixt my meal and Bruce pacing there 
 several yards away, oblivious to aught but yon fickle, 
 flickering flame out on the lake. I had finished my 
 scant repast before he somewhat controlled himself. 
 
 "Dave," he exclaimed at length and his voice 
 broke huskily and without modulation; "Dave, do 
 you believe in presentiment? Do you believe in 
 warnings? In premonitions which come whence we 
 know not? Do you believe in intuition which 
 augurs impending evil feel it, yet cannot account for 
 its presence, for its influence upon you? I'll not 
 venture to call it supernatural manifestation. I'll 
 not venture to call it anything. But, Bundy, do you 
 believe in such things?" 
 
 "Why, yes, I believe I do," I replied hesitatingly, 
 wondering at his questions. 
 
 "Then Dave, surely you'll not laugh at me when
 
 254 ONAWAGO 
 
 I tell you that I saw that light out there before I came 
 here tonight yet knew better than to credit my eye- 
 sight. I've seen it a thousand times before seeing it 
 tonight seen it a thousand times on a thousand dif- 
 ferent nights yet knew better than to credit my eye- 
 sight. Dave, boy, I've seen that light all my life 
 and knew better than to credit my eyes. But 
 now that you too see it out there, I know that it at 
 last is there in reality. Though God alone knows 
 why it is there in reality. For myself I only know 
 that it bodes something something which surely 
 touches me, touches my very existence perhaps. 
 God will that it be so! Oh my God!" and aston- 
 ished I saw him raise his face and hands heavenward. 
 "Oh my God! Help me through this night, I be- 
 seech thee! Check her that she may be powerless to 
 wreak further vengeance upon the one who comes!" 
 
 "But, ah, gads, Bundy, this seems blasphemy to 
 invoke divine assistance against such occultism as 
 hers. Would that I had known how to prepare for 
 this ordeal beforehand; she should not now be 
 seated within the stronghold of her invulnerable 
 power. Curse her! and I'm careless that she hears!" 
 though his voice sank low with the final sentence. 
 
 "I'm not raving, Bundy. This is not depravity
 
 ONAWAGO 255 
 
 which causes these words and actions of mine, words 
 and actions which are meaningless to you; far from 
 it, man! Suppose, for one instant, that you stood 
 in my shoes; suppose you knew not your earthly 
 equity to exist; suppose you were hampered and 
 governed by such a one as she would you not hate 
 her? Rebel against her? Strive to rid yourself of 
 her? For all my hatred she only laughs and con- 
 tinues to command me more! Great Lord! Won't 
 I ever taste freedom! " 
 
 Then after an interval of silence, he went on: 
 "Last night they burned my "medicine," Bundy. 
 Something cannot but be the outcome of that das- 
 tardy trick of Francois. You sacriligious scoun- 
 drel!" and he whirled upon the helpless Breeds. 
 "I've a smart notion to balance accounts with you 
 right here." Then he smiled in a satisfied sort of 
 way. "But even so perchance we'll come out even 
 in the end. Here, now stand up there, Dominique. 
 Wait a minute. Francois, now you. Don't you 
 dare offer to balk. You're the one whom I most 
 dearly love, so I forewarn you to step gingerly on 
 my toes henceforth. Now both of you move. Turn 
 about there and march. Lively now. No more 
 dilly-dallying with me. Understand? Good-night!"
 
 256 ONAWAGO 
 
 For he had with their own knives cut their 
 ankle thongs and assisted each in turn to his feet, 
 though he refrained from releasing their hands. 
 With difficulty they retained their standing equilib- 
 rium during a few moments stamping, endeavoring 
 to start the circulation in their deadened lower 
 limbs. He complaisantly resheathed their knives in 
 their belts, though while he handled them my heart 
 stood still, fearful that he should detect the absence 
 of his own knife, but fortune favored me. 
 
 The Breeds gone, Long returned to me. 
 
 "Bundy, my brain's a-whirl and seems a-blaze. 
 I feel though that I'm to win out in this matter. For 
 all that I'm determind to and when a man is de- 
 termined, it's half winning the game. Seems that 
 I can't compel my eyes to leave that light out there 
 for an instant. It draws me with singular fascination. 
 Gash, but the storm's waxing mightier every minute! 
 See, it's almost upon us; yet those clouds up there 
 seem to hesitate and slink back over the water as 
 though dreading to sweep ashore. Wish they might 
 see fit to keep hesitant. Remarkable how they do 
 perform up there now. Notice how they rise and 
 revolve over one another, then charge backward into 
 themselves."
 
 ONAWAGO 257 
 
 I gazed aloft. The whirling, writhing mass of 
 blue-black, white crested wind-clouds strung in a 
 gigantic ribbon from north to south, were sweeping 
 from the west at a terrific speed. But as Bruce had 
 declared, they evinced reluctancy to encounter the 
 land; for they seemed to rise perceptibly, whirling 
 and revolving in a churn-mass, then charge back- 
 ward upon their own ranks. I knew that this 
 maneuvering might last some several minutes. I 
 had known former storms to perform likewise, even 
 to disband, in order, as it were, to muster additional 
 force for some sudden, stupendous onslaught. 
 
 Meanwhile Bruce talked. 
 
 "All signs have foretokened this storm for some 
 days past. Rings have appeared nightly around the 
 moon; last night a strikingly vivid one, though you, 
 Dave, could not see it from the hollow because of 
 the midnight mists. The sun has set repeatedly with 
 after-glows. Vast displays of nebula have covered 
 the heavens at times. The old lake out there has 
 lain a deep indigo, today streaked with long threads 
 of jet black a bad sign. Wild geese hurried south- 
 ward all day today. I'll not be surprised at a cold 
 snap. Indian summer generally manages to end 
 with just such a storm. Moccasin told me several
 
 258 ONAWAGO 
 
 days ago that it was due before long, and that it was 
 to be a big one. I presume he has scores of signs 
 foretelling weather of which we have no knowledge. 
 Well, I know he can predict almost to a surety a 
 cold winter from an open one by fox-fur, by a 
 goose's breast-bone, by the leaves on an oak tree, by 
 crows and jay birds and a dozen other animals. 
 Then, Bundy, if all such things may be counted on, 
 how about dreams and presentiments, hallucina- 
 tions, optical illusions and day visions? How 
 about them, Dave? Can't a man count on these 
 just as likely as on the bodings of nature? That rag- 
 ing storm out there has been prognosticated by a 
 half hundred phenomena. Then why in the name 
 of common sense, has not yonder light been preor- 
 dained as well? Why, Bundy, I've been pestered 
 all my life by that flashing, wavering will-o-the-wisp 
 out there. Many the night have I watched among 
 these hills generally from the mountain top up 
 there watched throughout the long tedious hours of 
 darkness till dawn till daylight came and revealed 
 my delusion, my chimera, my hallucination or what- 
 ever it may have been; for just so long as dark- 
 ness would prevail, that flickering, wavering will-o- 
 the-wisp would stand out there across the waters and
 
 ONAWAGO 259 
 
 flash and flicker and beckon to me night after night, 
 until once I actually did put out to sea in one of 
 these birch bark cockle-shells, intent upon following 
 the false flame. I did follow it, but daylight over- 
 took me. My quest awarded naught. And now 
 but that you see it with your eyes, I would fain dis- 
 credit my eye-sight as of old. What shall be the con- 
 sequences of its appearance now in actually, God 
 alone may know. Would that I did! There's more 
 than her infernal machinations afoot tonight, 
 Bundy, for I feel somehow that just as sure as there's 
 a God in heaven, Dave, that more infinite power 
 than her's shall be manifested before this night is 
 out."
 
 260 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 THE WOMAN OF THE BROW-VEIL 
 
 T HAD a most singular experience while on my 
 * way from the East, Dave. It occurred in 
 Detroit. It was the day of my arrival there after a 
 tedious trip aboard ship across Lake Erie. I had 
 just landed my horse my saddler, you know when 
 I bethought me that a little canter might enliven my 
 spirits after the fatigue of the voyage. 
 
 "I had ridden about town a goodly while, when, 
 toward late afternoon I passed a gentleman and lady 
 driving behind a spirited team. The man wore a 
 military uniform; the woman wore a heavy black 
 veil drooped to her eyebrows. I noticed nothing 
 more; thought nothing more of the matter. 
 
 "Probably an hour or so later I was near the out- 
 skirts of the town. Glancing into a side street, I 
 saw in the distance ahead, in the center of the square, 
 people congregated and in evident excitement over 
 something in their midst. The crowd had collected 
 near the foot of a gigantic sycamore tree the hollow
 
 ONAWAGO 261 
 
 trunked sycamore in which tradition claims Pontiac 
 established his headquarters during his siege of the 
 fort. Thinking it over since, the location of the ac- 
 cident impressed me as strikingly remarkable. 
 
 "I galloped up to the crowd and inquired the 
 cause for the same. A woman, a man informed me, 
 had been thrown out of a carriage and stunned, 
 though otherwise not seriously injured. The horses 
 had shied, the man informed me, at the giant syc- 
 amore, acting as though they had seen something 
 that violently startled them. My informant, himself, 
 he stated, had been an eyewitness, and though he 
 observed carefully, he had failed to notice anything 
 that could have alarmed them. I learned further- 
 more, that the man and woman were strangers there- 
 abouts. I considered the affair lightly and after en- 
 deavoring to obtain a glimpse of the woman, in 
 which I failed because of the size of the crowd, I 
 rode away. 
 
 "Meanwhile, I decided to remain a day or two 
 in Detroit before riding across the state. The even- 
 ing of the following day I met my interlocutor of the 
 accident on the street and accosted him, bent upon 
 inquiring of the woman's recovery, or whether her
 
 262 ONAWAGO 
 
 swoon had materialized into anything passing 
 serious. 
 
 ' 'Par's I know she came out o' it all sound enough,' 
 he said. Gads, I'll remember his very words to my 
 grave! 'But I can tell you, sir,' he went on, 'there's 
 something mighty baffling erbout that there woman. 
 They as tended her, helping in reviving her, swear 
 that she had a most mysterious brand on her for'- 
 head. Comely enough woman, they as know say, 
 excepting for that bafflin' brand o' her'n. 
 
 "A brand?' I inquired, 'what sort of a brand 
 was it, sir?' And I could with difficuty control my 
 voice in my anxiety. 
 
 ' Tattooing,' he answered, 'Yes, they thatknow, 
 claim she was tatooed on her for'ead, a right clever 
 piece o' tatooin' an eye, it was, they claim, sir; a 
 human eye an* thet she wore the veil to keep folks 
 from seeing it there. Folks air doin' some talking, 
 sir, I warrant ye thet.' 
 
 "Bundy, you can well imagine the effect of his 
 words upon me. But I managed, none the less, to 
 conceal their effect and continued questioning him 
 in the matter. But, Dave, though I drained every 
 clue to its dregs, the gist of all the information I 
 ever succeeded in procuring was simply that she as
 
 ONAWAGO 263 
 
 well as the man had been total strangers in Detroit and 
 that immediately after the accident, they had em- 
 barked on a small sailing schooner bound to the 
 head of Lake Michigan. That's all I know, Dave, 
 but since then, that light out there has haunted me 
 waking or asleep. God, but that this night were 
 ended!"
 
 264 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 THE WOLF. 
 
 f C A ^^ one *h m more, Dave," he went on, 
 *"*- "what the deuce might Martha have meant 
 tonight when she asked me the last thing upon re- 
 tiring asked me about some track or something ly- 
 ing in the forest. What the devil could the girl 
 have been driving at?" 
 
 "Tell me, Bruce, in the name of Heaven, tell 
 me, man," and I could not repress an awful anxiety, 
 "has she mentioned my absence has she seemed to 
 miss me does she show in any way any sorrow?" 
 
 He framed with his lips a calculating smile, and 
 hesitating deliberately revelled in my ingenious 
 solicitude. 
 
 "Why do you ask?" at length he answered. 
 "What right have you to expect concern on her 
 part? Why should she grieve for her father's murder- 
 er? Far less, even breathe a syllable of his despic- 
 able name? God forbid that she should! No, Dave, 
 I doubt that she has should scarce think she should
 
 ONAWAGO 265 
 
 should far less expect her to, if I were you. No, 
 decidely no! I doubt if she gives your absence 
 second thought. I should little expect it of her." 
 
 A blow from him would have stunned me less. 
 My senses reeled for a moment madly, but withal 
 their reeling, I glimpsed the light. 
 
 "Look ye here, Long," I blurted out finally with 
 flashing ire, "I warn you not to maliciously lie thus 
 to me me who am here virtually impaled on your 
 talons, as you were wont to put it last night. You 
 can't make me believe that she minds not my ab- 
 sence, she whom I have known every moment for 
 ten years, she who's more than sister, more than life 
 to me for aught of your braggart deceit last night 
 you can't tell me that Martha has not wondered at 
 my prolonged absence. Why, man, 'tis the longest 
 we've ever been separated since knowing one 
 another since that night you stole me from the 
 house and brought me to these hills. And, if as you 
 say, she has not mentioned my absence to you, then 
 she's aware of more than either of us credit her with 
 knowing. 
 
 I saw him flinch beneath my countering blow. 
 
 "Bundy," and his voice trembled, "you're right, 
 I do believe. You've merely confirmed my own
 
 266 ONAWAGO 
 
 suspicions. What she meant by that damned track 
 lying in the forest is far from me to understand. But 
 there's something afoot, I've no room to doubt. Old 
 Moccasin is alive and awake, or else I'm a numskull 
 worse than a fool. Bundy, tonight is to witness 
 more than either of us dare dream. What's that, 
 Bundy! Look! See it? Over there, over across on 
 the low white slope of the sand ridge see it? That 
 dark object there? See it move? See it slink down 
 hill with the sliding sand? Tell me, Bundy, what is 
 it, man or beast?" 
 
 "A brute forsooth, in either case," I replied, 
 striving for evasion. One of the Breeds, methinks, 
 spying upon us here at our fire, or mayhap a prowl- 
 ing wolf or bob-cat lured by our fire." 
 
 "I was a fool to ever light it!" Bruce fairly 
 growled, so guttural was his ejaculation. "It's spying 
 in either case, and Bundy, I again repeat that I don't 
 fancy the taste of what's afoot tonight. See, the 
 thing's slipped down hill and into the brush. I don't 
 like the guise of the thing; it's not always a wolf that 
 skulks in a wolf-hide hereabouts. No sir. It don't 
 taste pleasantly tonight. That light out there got my 
 nerve But why the hell do I tell you this! why 
 play the fool every word I utter! Gash, boy! I've
 
 GNAW AGO 267 
 
 told you everything, everything confided in you 
 like some fellow counselor, when, in fact, you're a 
 prisoner. Why I've confided in you at all, every- 
 thing is beyond accounting even to myself; perhaps 
 because you're so entirely within my clutches and I 
 distain your individual power. Furthermore, I'm 
 lonesome, Bundy, downright lonesome, and I don't 
 care a whit if you know you're the sole confidant I 
 have on this earth and that I've probably played the 
 fool in making you so; but those are cold facts 
 whether you appreciate them or not and for all that, 
 I'm careless one whit for your appreciation." 
 
 Meanwhile the storm out over the lake had in- 
 creased, had approached gradually shorewards, had 
 congested into one utter black mass of banked cloud 
 that now seemed suddenly to surge forward. Pro- 
 longed, distance-drowned thunder bore upon the 
 night. A tremulous flash of lightning illuminated 
 the vast breadth of darkened waters. A trifling 
 breath of air came now for the first time off the lake, 
 wafting lithesomely adown the hollow to us, stirring 
 gently the frost-crisped foliage that hedged us round 
 about. A few leaves quivered and parted their stems 
 from their twigs, and, fluttering to earth, rustled 
 softly in the stillness of the night.
 
 268 ONAWAGO 
 
 At the same time there sounded a light patter of 
 feet and a scurry in the carpeted leaves, and under- 
 neath the low bushes I saw a cotton tail whisk past. 
 
 A low whine and a short, sharp bark, and Luxor 
 was gone from my side and a moment later, from 
 sight, away like a voracious shadow. For a few 
 succeeding seconds his voice held still, and then 
 came his full, deep-throated bay pealing out upon 
 the still night air in the long-drawn, ringing and 
 lingering melodies of his nature's song of the blood- 
 lust, pitched in deep major key. 
 
 Together we sat at a loss whether to call or let 
 him go, sending his heart's call echoing through the 
 silent and shadowy valleys and over the hills. Al- 
 ready 'twas too late to thwart any effect that might 
 arise now because of this break of his; and with my 
 own summoning whistle sounding now, would it 
 serve to allay or goad any danger lurking for us un- 
 seen? I was close upon the point of risking it when 
 a twig snapped over on our right, and glancing 
 there, I beheld a few yards off, Francois. 
 
 He stood erect and motionless, looking at me; 
 and one hand grasped a bunch of brush behind 
 which I surmised that until now he had lain am- 
 bushed, eavesdropping upon us. I nudged Bruce,
 
 ONAWAGO 269 
 
 and he with instant perspicacity, followed my glance, 
 and himself beheld the Breed. With an angry oath 
 snarling in his throat, he lurched forward to his feet, 
 the revolver gleaming in his outstretched hand. 
 Well might I fear an eruption. Francois, facing 
 Bruce, seemed to quail and shrink visibly shrink 
 like some feline settling for a spring. At the same 
 time with slothful mien he slouched forward a 
 pace. A truculent grimace seamed his dark, sen- 
 sual face a virulent, rebellious, insolent leer that 
 rendered his malignant visage as expressive of con- 
 gested storm as yonder growls of thunder. Then 
 for an instant he paused, his low-drooping brow 
 contracted with an ominous scowl, a malignant curl 
 to his upper lip, his black blood-shot eyes a-glitter 
 with hatred and for that moment, while he paused, 
 the cast of that dissolute countenance stamped upon 
 my memory the most pronounced characterization 
 of malignancy ever my lot to have witnessed. His 
 left hand rested significantly upon the handle of his 
 belt-hung knife; a heavy cudgel he clutched in his 
 right; and his entire attitude expressed but one pur- 
 pose treachery and murder. My heart quaked 
 within me at the thought of the possible outcome of 
 this scene.
 
 270 ONAWAGO 
 
 During the while, loud and lingering, old Lux- 
 or's voice broke upon the night. I confess that for 
 the instant that Francois and Bruce faced one an- 
 other, a dread, hysterical oppression weighed within 
 me and a stifling sensation surged within my throat 
 that rendered my breath an exertion and myself 
 weak with nervous fear. I strove vainly to muster 
 my recreUnt powers; I cursed inly my flagging 
 strength and charged myself to launch forthwith into 
 this impending castastrophe. And for aught of me, 
 it seems some over-guarding adverse power restrain- 
 ed me, for on a sudden and on this instant, I be- 
 came aware of some other nearby presence became 
 aware through intuition for I wheeled half-about 
 and looking, sat frozen to the ground, powerless 
 even to lift so much as a finger. A needle seemed 
 to pierce even my eyeballs, and, traveling through, 
 multiply itself into innumberable points that distrib- 
 uted themselves throughout me in a travail of 
 shooting, darting threads of fire. For the moment 
 I know full sure that I lost all sensibility, and I 
 know that I sat there, glaring into those ravenous 
 eye-balls that glared back into mine, I was as a man 
 half dead with hynotic charm, for, today, it all seems 
 but some sudden transient incubus of my distorted
 
 ONAWAGO 271 
 
 brain. For there within three feet of me, I was 
 glaring at two unsightly eye-cavities back of which 
 were two wildly lighted eye-balls of a huge gray 
 wolf! 
 
 Then, with an awful effort, I somewhat regained 
 mastery over myself. 
 
 I clambered instantly to my feet, and cowered 
 before this terrible creature, that doggedly slunk for- 
 ward upon me as I moved backward from it. A 
 panic of terror strove with me, battling against my 
 restraining will power. I tried to cry out to Bruce, 
 but my voice refused utterance. I tried to ap- 
 prise myself of his attitude in this scene, but my 
 sight refused to leave its pinioned stare upon this 
 loathsome creature at my feet, brushing now almost 
 against me. 
 
 A creature loathsome and terrible it verily was; 
 the eyes alight with fiendish fire, glittered wolfish; 
 the loose, shaggy hide was wolfish; but far other- 
 wise than wolfish was its standing attitude and its 
 lolling, shambling gait and its quaint standing post- 
 ure. No exertion was traceable and it lolled for- 
 ward low to earth, for it moved with well nigh the 
 ease and grace of a sliding reptile, though without 
 the writhing; more like some object of animation
 
 272 ONAWAGO 
 
 impelled by ulterior force. Though huge and 
 square, it was short, broad and ill-proportioned; a 
 creature withal repulsive, uncanny and horrible. I 
 could but recoil before it, my gaze still riveted upon 
 those unsightly eyes. 
 
 Then something seemed suddenly to give way, 
 to burst within my brain, to explode with a loud re- 
 port. A dull whirring sound began revolving in my 
 ears. Gray fog of tangible thickness seemed about 
 me. I recall that which followed as might some 
 maniac the scenes and horror enacted during an at- 
 tack of violent raving. I remember dimly of edging 
 into the encircling brush, still retreating before that 
 loathsome creature. I remember a strange frenzy 
 seizing me a frenzy to flee. Thenceforward the 
 few fleeting moments is a blank in my mind. I 
 remember not at all, neither do I recall anything 
 that occurred. But the next recollection of mine is 
 that of tearing and pushing my way through an en- 
 tanglement of vegetation, of breaking through 
 bushes and rending a passage through the tenacious 
 rope-like ivies and vines that in confusion draped 
 well nigh everything, living or dead; that I seemed 
 amid prison walls of green against which I must 
 needs battle and beat frantically and blindly, re-
 
 ONAWAGO 273 
 
 gardless of destination. During this while, without 
 cessation, rising and falling in undulating volume, a 
 wild, taunting laugh rang through the air. I tripped 
 and fell. A heavy body pounced upon me and 
 pinned me down. I struggled desperately to rise 
 but with utter futility. I strove to turn myself un- 
 derneath this adverse weight, but sank lower than 
 ever, closer to the earth, exhausted; and I detected 
 labored breathing accompanied by a guttural laugh 
 and I recognized Dominique. I found myself be- 
 reft of motion, unable to so much as stir a limb. 
 Something clothlike and of many folds muffled my 
 face, blinding me, nigh smothering me to the point 
 of strangulation. Then I felt myself lifted roughly, 
 jostled a moment, then pitched across shoulders. I 
 knew myself carried to some distance before being 
 cast hurtfully and violently to earth and abandoned 
 to what fate I might only guess ANTS!
 
 274 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE ANTS. 
 
 , the horror of it and the torture of it! He 
 only may know who has endured them en- 
 dured the crawling of them into his eyes, into his 
 ears, and into his mouth, the crawling of them into 
 his throat, aye, even their struggling into his lungs! 
 Only he who has suffered the torture of their incisors 
 piercing his skin, the prickling of their sting-armed 
 legs over his body only he of such experience may 
 know the horror of my impending doom. 
 
 Rationality returned slowly. I lay prone, my 
 face buried in the loose soil beneath me. Profound 
 stillness reigned about me save for the continuous 
 claps of thunder that clashed loudly and went rip- 
 pling away into distance. I lay entwined in thongs, 
 powerless to shift myself an inch. My brain throbbed 
 with surging blood. My heart beat frantically within 
 my chest. My breathing was with utmost difficulty. 
 Hot flashes swept over me, alternating with qualms 
 of nausea and chill. A blinding glare of intense
 
 ONAWAGO 275 
 
 light shone before my eyes. Dull rumbling muttered 
 constantly in my ears, broken solely by the actual 
 mutterings of the nearing thunder. Thus through it 
 all I lay and listened expectantly, dreadfully, for the 
 report of Long's pistol shot. I knew to a full surety 
 that as yet it had not broken upon the hollow's 
 quietude. I could but wonder how things were with 
 him. 
 
 How long thus I lay I do not know. I have no 
 trace of time save through the raging of the storm. 
 It broke with instant and intense fury, and while I 
 lay there, I knew solely through hearing that it waxed 
 mighty and terrible. A veritable down pour drenched 
 me through and through. I all but sank unconscious 
 beneath its onslaught. Several times the electricity 
 tingled through my blood as lightning cracked and 
 struck close by. The constant crashes of thunder 
 reeled my brain with giddiness! Wierd phantasies 
 toyed with my imagination. Time and again I won- 
 dered were I numbered with the dead were I living, 
 or could it be my spirit was enduring some hateful 
 torture. Time after time I strove and with partial 
 success, to collect my full senses only to have them 
 drift from me with tantalizing persistency. 
 
 Yet throughout it all I remained sufficiently con-
 
 276 ONAWAGO 
 
 fident as to my sanity to feel sure that no shot had 
 been fired by Bruce Long. 
 
 I still retained an impression, faint though and 
 intangible, which caused me to believe that I 
 drowsed, for what length of time I do not know. But 
 well do I recall with horror, aye, with horror that 
 verged to madness, that suddenly the fiery, reeking 
 venom of a snake smote my nostrils, a fiery irrita- 
 tion that cauterized my lungs, turned me sick at 
 stomach and set my brain wild with delirium. I 
 heard its rattle close beside me and its hiss beside my 
 face. Each successive second I lay in dread, in 
 dread of its fangs seeking hold in my flesh. I 
 writhed in awful agony, such agony as elsewhere I 
 have never endured. Its rancor filled my brain to 
 bursting with consuming fire and a fit of choking 
 seized my throat choking which, on a sudden, 
 changed to strangulation, tight and convulsing, sap- 
 ping my life with a sudden wrench.
 
 ONAWAGO 277 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 THE WRECK. 
 
 A DULL, monotonous sound like the the low 
 -** crooning of winds was the first thing that 
 dawned on my understanding. Gradually it swelled 
 in volume until with a rush, the bellows of the an- 
 gered lake were loud within my ears. An almost un- 
 governable longing to sleep overswept me, I fought 
 awakening. With hazy apprehension I felt a wave 
 dash into my face only to sooth strangely, pleasantly. 
 A second wave washed me, then I opened my eyes. 
 
 Utter blackness encased me. I turned myself and 
 glanced in each direction to find naught but this 
 selfsame darkness. Involuntarily I reached out to 
 thrust it from me, impelled by the sense of its den- 
 sity, for it seemed to bear with stiffling pressure 
 upon me. I smiled to myself as the folly of this im- 
 pulse came to me in the true light. 
 
 Yet withal a delightful ecstacy thrilled me. I was 
 happy in the extreme. The bellows of the lake 
 were as music in my ears. A deafening crash of
 
 278 ONAWAGO 
 
 thunder that went rolling in long-drawn reverber- 
 ations above me was for me but amusement. I 
 laughed outright and the sound of my laugh, unnat- 
 ural and hoarse as it was, lugubrious and resembling 
 more some madman's cackle, only caused me to 
 laugh again loudly, hysterically. As I laughed this 
 latter time, the thunder peal had drifred into the 
 distance and merely the lake's bellows combated its 
 volume. But even as my throat yet gurgled in my 
 maniacal frenzy, a startled exclamation that bespoke 
 gladness, sounded above me, and someone knelt be- 
 side me, two hands fondly found my own and 
 pressed them close, Two lips lightly touched my 
 forehead and then a soft cheek lay upon mine, while 
 a voice wrung with tenderness and pathos, spoke 
 softly to me. 
 
 "Ah, Dave, how I thank God that you've come 
 to. Oh, if you but knew how I've prayed here be- 
 side you. God be praised that you live and are 
 now conscious!" 
 
 I answered not. Full rationality was mine now. 
 My heart surged within my bosom as I silently 
 breathed a word of thanksgiving to God; and reach- 
 ing up, my arms closed her in my embrace and I 
 held her to me long and tenderly, our lips pressed
 
 ONAWAGO 279 
 
 close. A score of conflicting passions and emotions 
 played upon me. Bruce Long's threats and insinu- 
 ations jumbled as a mass into my mind only to be 
 expelled instantly, for now, Ah, God! I knew them 
 as liesl^ 
 
 "Martha!" I whispered after a time, "Martha, 
 Thank God!" 
 
 A rough, wet tongue licked my face. As I spoke 
 his name, I reached up and placed an arm about his 
 long, lean body. I can feel him yet, how he res- 
 ponded to my caresses, how he staggered clumsily 
 against me and hugged me close, his long nose 
 snuggling at my neck, one paw resting across my 
 shoulder. 
 
 "You owe him everything, Dave. He took us 
 to you." 
 
 "Took?" I asked. "Us?" 
 
 "Yes. You're not now where we found you, 
 Moccasin and I. Moccasin is standing here in the 
 dark beside you, Dave, though you can't see him. 
 It'll lightning in a minute, then look." 
 
 Hardly had she said as much when a brilliant 
 flash swept the heavens, quivering an instant with a 
 blinding glare. But during its glare I had looked 
 and had seen. Scarce ten feet away Moccasin
 
 280 ONAWAGO 
 
 stood with a lofty poise to his admirable stature, 
 though I was far from expecting him thus regaled. 
 His arms were folded across his breast; grandeur and 
 dignity were expressive throughout him as a whole, 
 though his noble brow betrayed a pensible droop 
 and this droop was perchance emphasized by the 
 black streaks of war paint that crossed and recrossed 
 one another, branching from between his shaggy 
 brows. Fierce and warlike as some war-god him- 
 self might well be, he was studying me with almost 
 terrifying intensity and I could but quake for a 
 moment beneath his savagery. He was naked 
 above the waist, as was his custom, and his massive 
 chest glowed crimson with paint. A long plait of 
 his hair hung across one shoulder. A solitary eagle 
 feather leaned awry above one ear. He was unarmed 
 except his hatchet; but across an elbow was thrown 
 what I instantly recognised, an uncouth imitation of 
 the animal himself, the beaver-skin of yesterday, now 
 dried to small proportion, and stuffed to grotesque 
 shape. 
 
 A second flash of lightning quickly succeeded 
 the first and in its flare his eyes found mine. A 
 piercing glitter shot from their black depths and he 
 changed his attitude to sudden solicitation, and
 
 The Black Bulk of a Ship.
 
 ONAWAGO 281 
 
 stooping low he spoke and with grave monotone 
 and never shall I forget one syllable of his deep 
 throated Pottawattamie. 
 
 "Son of my Brother," he spoke, "the medicines 
 of the red-men are at war tonight. They have dark- 
 ened the face of the moon that the palefaces may 
 walk where their eyes cannot find the path. But 
 the eyes of a Pottawattamie see in the dark. His 
 medicine tells him where he shall go. It tells him to 
 fear the red-men's medicines which are at war. 
 They also tell him that the Son of my Brother is in 
 need of a medicine, that he needs big medicine, 
 that he needs it very much and that it must be big. 
 The medicines of Topinabe are good. They are 
 big and of great worth. The Son of my Brother 
 needs a medicine. IT IS HIS!" 
 
 He thrust the beaver-pelt into my grasp and I 
 felt rather than discerned in the darkness that he 
 moved from above me. I heard Martha softly 
 laugh. None the less I could but treasure the thing 
 and thrust it within my homespun shirt for safe- 
 keeping. 
 
 "You're as superstitious, Dave, I do believe, as 
 Moccasin himself. He's been talking incessantly 
 about medicine the whole night long. You're too
 
 282 ONAWAGO 
 
 weak yet to sit up. Don't even try. This is a good 
 place here. We may as well stay until daylight 
 anyhow. We're on the north side of the Hollow, 
 right at the foot of the bluff where the Hollow opens 
 on the beach. The bluff partially shields us from the 
 wind. We carried you here from where we found 
 you, or rather from where 'Lux' led us. We heard 
 his bay and called him when he circled near us. 
 Then he took us to you. I honestly believe he's as 
 intelligent as some people." 
 
 "But how and why are you all here, Martha? I 
 can scarce believe my senses, you venturing like 
 this." 
 
 "I coaxed Moccasin to come with me, coaxed 
 him hard, Dave, before he would. I felt sure we 
 would find you here, for I followed Bruce clear to 
 the mouth of the Hollow tonight alone. Then I 
 went back after Moccasin. But I don't see into it, 
 Dave, what it's all about; why we found you as 
 you were, tied to an ant-hill, and unconscious." 
 
 "Was there anything," I queried, shuddering at 
 the recollection, "around my neck?" 
 
 "Nothing which we saw. Why?" 
 
 "Only I thought perhaps I had been choked with 
 a rope," I replied evasively.
 
 ONAWAGO 283 
 
 "You were in a faint, that was all, though for a long 
 while I feared you were dead. We revived you 
 with water." 
 
 So were explained the wave dashes in my face. 
 
 "You're a dear, brave girl!" I whispered. 
 "You've saved my life. I owe you everything and 
 I I love you, Martha, I love you!" 
 
 "And I you, my poor brave boy," she answered, 
 and my heart gave a great leap. Then after a moment 
 "Where's Bruce?" she asked. And she reverted so 
 suddenly from me to him that my heart almost mis- 
 gave me. 
 
 "God alone knows," I answered stoutly. 
 "Heaven trust that he still lives!" 
 
 I heard her catch her breath. 
 
 "Is he .in danger?" she exclaimed in a startled 
 whisper, and I felt her hands grow cold in mine. I 
 strove to control the tremor that crept into my voice 
 as I admitted, "He was when last I saw him." 
 
 "Then we must go to him at once," she an- 
 nounced determinedly. "Where is he?" 
 
 "Over across there in the Hollow," and I pointed 
 an arm in the darkness but a flash of lightning 
 showed it up. 
 
 "Wait then till we return. You're too weak to
 
 284 ONAWAGO 
 
 go with us. Tell us his location as best as you can. 
 Moccasin can find the place. We'll take Luxor 
 along. We'll come back to you as soon as possible. 
 Tell us now just where you left him for we must " 
 
 A feeble flash played upon the darkness a flash, 
 but not of lightning. Instead, out over the lake, a 
 long thread of fire shot upward, curving when high 
 in the air, then slowly descending, died from view. 
 
 "A rocket, Dave!" Martha gasped. "A distress 
 signal! What can it mean?" 
 
 "It's a vessel, Martha. She's lain out there, be- 
 calmed, all day." 
 
 Until then I must confess, I had given not the 
 slightest heed to the strength of the storm. Until 
 now I had failed to note that a terrific wind was 
 sweeping past us, sweeping in off the lake, though 
 broken in part, for us, by the protection of the bluff 
 above us. Lying, as I was, flat upon the ground, I 
 had not felt its full force until incited by the rocket, 
 I suddenly sat upright. The full blast then caught 
 me direct and I could with difficulty hold myself 
 against the fury, until with an arm, I propped myself 
 as I sat. It blew against my face, muffling my face 
 as it were, until in order to intake breath I was forced 
 to bend low and shield my face with my free hand.
 
 ONAWAGO 285 
 
 I now realized for the first time that a storm was on, 
 a mighty one, that a gale was blowing such as I had 
 seldom seen, though Michigan is no peaceable body 
 and I had lived on her shore for years. 
 
 A scant rain still clung in the air, drizzling along 
 with the wind, and a decided chill sent a shiver 
 through my meager clothing, betokening increasing 
 coldness for the weather before many hours. 
 
 Lighted occasionally by the lightning, the great 
 Lake lay before us a writhing plain of white, lashed 
 into endless foam and white-crested combers which 
 came booming shoreward, bellowing hoarsely and 
 rushing headlong upon the beach, to spread out 
 over the white, gleaming strand and to recede only 
 in part till some fellow wave spent in turn its fury 
 on the thirtsy sand. The lightning had somewhat 
 died down from what it had been in the earlier part 
 of the storm. Thunder answered each flash but 
 neither so loud nor lasting as previously, in that the 
 weather had changed to such a degree of coldness. 
 Sand and small gravel, carried along by the wind, 
 hissed past and stung and bit into the skin as it struck 
 the hands and face, and I could but marvel how 
 Moccasin had stood there so calmly with his unpro- 
 tected back to the gale and withstood the onslaught
 
 286 ONAWAGO 
 
 of the stinging grit. Nor had I appreciated to the 
 slightest degree until this moment, Martha's fortitude 
 in thus braving the tempest and rescuing me from 
 my recent peril. 
 
 Out over the raging waters a second rocket now 
 arose, and, as we watched it, 'twas easily discerned 
 that it rose nearear than the former one. Another 
 quickly followed, but proved the last. No other 
 came though we waited long in strained expectancy. 
 Long we waited, I say, aye, and a tedious watch, 
 as well, it proved, with neither of us venturing a 
 word, until after an age, seemingly, Martha broke 
 the silence. She was kneeling close beside me, 
 shielded partly by me from the wind. As she spoke 
 I turned to her during a lightning flash, and never 
 shall I loose the wild beauty of her as I remember it 
 to this day. 
 
 A small red shawl clung about her shoulders, one 
 end loose and flapping in the wind, her uncovered 
 hair blue-black, streamed straight and disheveled by 
 the gale. Her arms were bared to the shoulders, 
 one clinging across her bosom to hold in check her 
 recreant shawl, while her other reached out and 
 clung tenderly to me, thrown across my shoulder 
 and about my neck. Her face was flushed in her
 
 ONAWAGO 287 
 
 excitement, the flush of her cheeks slowly blending 
 to the pallor about her drawn lips. Her eyes shone 
 wild with well-nigh frenzied light as she gazed out 
 over the storm-tossed sea, and as she interrupted our 
 prolonged quiet, her voice bore to me through the 
 shriek of the gale in but a harsh whisper. 
 
 "Think you she can live, Dave? Surely no craft 
 can for long endure such seas. If earthly aid can 
 help her but, ah, me! what can we do! That 
 last signal was nearer, I thought, than the first. 
 She's blowing ashore, and she'll thrash to fragments 
 in such a surf. Moccasin," she announced sud- 
 denly, "we must find Bruce." 
 
 " 'Twere impossible," I protested, "to find him 
 such a night in such a jungle as this about us. 'Tis 
 folly to consider such a move. Don't bother your- 
 self. Bruce is able to care for himself. Further- 
 more, what could you do against " 
 
 "Look!" she shouted, pointing seaward, "I saw 
 the ship that flash!" 
 
 Silence fell upon us, strained breathlessness dur- 
 ing which we peered through the darkness out across 
 the vast plain of whitened waters. A sheet of light- 
 ning quivered in the far west, and out upon that 
 mighty breadth of pitching billows, I glimpsed for a
 
 288 ONAWAGO 
 
 fleeting instant, the black bulk of a ship tossed high 
 against the blackness of the clouded horizon. Then 
 darkness closed down, and we saw no more. 
 
 No further communication passed between us. 
 We sat immovable and dumb as the speechless bluff 
 above us. Martha merely slipped more closely to 
 me, but now, instead of one, both her arms clung 
 about me, and my own stole out and about her and 
 I clasped her fondly to my bosom. For once I con- 
 fess I was mindless of the tempest and its intended 
 victim. 
 
 How long we may have waited I dare scarce es- 
 timate, but I recall it now not as the lapsing of time, 
 but rather as heart-breaking stress through which we 
 waited and watched and listened with fear and anx- 
 iety gnawing within us. An endless waiting we en- 
 dured until at length, suddenly a violent blaze of 
 electricity flooded the heavens, lingering and grad- 
 ually diminishing in minor flashes and flickerings, 
 illuminating for several moments to the brightness of 
 day, the froth-crested expanse of lake. 
 
 But during its brief duration we had witnessed 
 that which sent the blood cold in my veins and my 
 heart heavy with depressing ache, yet held me with 
 intense fascination. For close upon us, close upon
 
 ONAWAGO 289 
 
 the beach and close upon destruction, scarce sixty 
 rods from the shore line, the doomed vessel was 
 rearing and careening upon the rollers, flinging her- 
 self high in sharp silhouette against the electric blaz- 
 oned heavens. She was drifting broadside on and 
 her spars loomed tall and square in grim outline 
 against the sky. She was a small barque, a schooner 
 common to the lakes, a type of lumber transport- 
 ation still in usage. Merely a plaything she seemed 
 in the grip of the waves, a cripple at the mercy of 
 some invisible foe. She had lifted over the third 
 sand bar, but the huge rollers had driven her hard 
 upon the second where she now lay floundering and 
 battering upon the surf. Her rigging seemed still 
 intact, though each comber washed across her, and 
 in the glare of the flickering lightning I descried one 
 figure dangling at the mast; and so defined was it 
 that I saw 'twas not the figure of a sailor or that of a 
 man. Rather I saw to a certainty her dress and her 
 dangling hair. God! Could she survive! Then 
 slowly the lightning died away in a few faint flickers 
 and no more followed to apprise us of her condi- 
 tion except one single feeble glimmer that came 
 after a time and revealed to us the schooner lying
 
 290 ONAWAGO 
 
 heavily upon her side with her spars and rigging no 
 longer rearing against the sky. 
 
 That we waited with heavy silence upon us is to 
 say the least. During the while, the chill of the air 
 grew to piercing cold, bringing with it instead of the 
 scant drizzle, a stinging sleet which drove against us 
 in our unprotected state. Together in a close hud- 
 dle, Martha and I bent beneath the gale's blasts. How 
 I withstood it well as I did I cannot say. How the 
 torture of it all remains as a blank in my memory is 
 more than I can understand, for aught that I recall 
 of it is of crouching there close to earth and en- 
 during it with the patience of a dumb brute. I re- 
 member that after an endless time, at length I raised 
 my head from out the protecting shelter of my arms 
 and found that the gray dawn was creeping into the 
 east, and that the storm had broken; and through the 
 rifted clouds as they swiftly sailed by, I glimpsed 
 anon the paling moon low in the west. A semi- 
 indistinct twilight played upon the strand before us 
 and upon the hills in our rear, though the Hollow 
 still brooded in heavy gloom. 'Twas a ghostly, 
 wierd half-light, rendered more ghostly still by a 
 thin coating of snow that lay sifted over the cold- 
 gripped earth. The wind had died down consider-
 
 ONAWAGO 291 
 
 ably and only a few scattering flakes now drifted 
 through the air. 
 
 The wave-clamor was nigh deafening. From far 
 back amongst the hills resounded the angry bellow. 
 All along the reach of the low shore line they thun- 
 dered, flinging themselves desperately upon the 
 beach and roaring with ponderous accents; while out 
 across the mighty bosom of the Great Lake, the 
 enormons billows lifted and tossed themselves high in 
 fantastic silhouette against the rifted clouds of the 
 western horizon. 
 
 Martha slept in my arms. I pressed a kiss upon 
 her forhead, then turned in search of Moccasin. He 
 was nowhere near, and, for a long time, I gazed in 
 all directions in quest of him before I at last brought 
 him into view, indistinct in the half twilight, far 
 downshore and kneeling. Luxor stood beside him, 
 but I was unable to make out that which they gave 
 their attention something outstretched upon the 
 sand. But even as I bent my interest upon them, 
 from close to the foot of the bluff behind them, two 
 figures stole out upon the beach. 
 
 I recognized the Breeds. As they discerned 
 Moccasin they paused, and I could see them turn 
 to one another, and, standing close, converse for a
 
 292 ONAWAGO 
 
 moment together, then as with apprehension I 
 watched them, they cautiously slouched back to the 
 base of the bluff where they seemed screened from 
 my view by a clump of small poplar. 
 
 Meanwhile I had awakened Martha, and well 
 could we afford to loose no time in going to Moc- 
 casin. Dread of the Breeds filled me with grave 
 concern. But as, after a while, the two of us came 
 up to Moccasin, I discerned instantly their bent in 
 spying thus upon him as he knelt upon the sand. 
 
 Lying in piteous attitude upon the beach, 
 a woman's body had been cast by the waves. As I 
 dropped upon my knees beside her, horror-struck 
 with the tragedy of the thing, I saw at once she was 
 but middle-aged and beautiful in the extreme. Her 
 drenched clothing wrapped close her well molded 
 form. She was dressed entirely in black, and across 
 her death-pallored brow still draped a heavy veil, 
 in position perfect as in life. I lifted carefully and 
 reverently its thickness and could but start as the 
 miniature eye black, glittering and feverishly blood- 
 shotglared into mine. I heard Martha cry in 
 surprise and wonder, and the usually apathetic Moc- 
 casin uttered a low grunt as he looked down upon 
 the dreaded emblem. Then I gently released the
 
 ONAWAGO 293 
 
 veil and it fell back, to guard its secret once more. 
 
 "I would to God I knew where to find Bruce," 
 I added after a pause. 
 
 "He bears this same mark upon his chest," sug- 
 gested Martha softly. "What can it mean?" 
 
 "Naught but that this woman is none other than 
 his mother," I ventured conclusively.
 
 294 ONAWAGO 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 THE INSCRIPTION. 
 
 T . REMAINED kneeling for some little time, 
 * Martha opposite me, between us, the dead 
 woman, and Moccasin silent and stern on my right. 
 Suddenly I saw her bend close over the victim of the 
 waves bend close in order that her eye-sight might 
 penetrate the confusing gloom of prescient dawn. 
 Her fingers fumbled at the woman's throat. An in- 
 stant later she handed across to me a chain and a 
 locket of gold. I took it, examined it, pried at 
 opening it, then gave it back without comment. 
 
 "I can feel writing upon it, Dave," she exclaimed, 
 awed tremor in her voice, "the thing's neither 
 hinged nor does it clasp. . I believe its solid and 
 does not open. Engraving covers the entire out- 
 side. Oh, that this light were stronger that we 
 might read!" 
 
 "Come, Moccasin, I directed. We must carry 
 her to some better shelter than this. Back there 
 where we just spent the night, back there at the 
 mouth of the Hollow, will be the most suitable spot
 
 ONAWAGO 295 
 
 of any around here. Lend a hand, Moccasin, and 
 help me." 
 
 Solemnly we gathered her between us and slowly 
 trudged back to the gap on the bluff. Wreckage 
 everywhere lay strewn along the shore. I surveyed 
 the tumultuous waves where the vessel had gone to 
 pieces upon the bar, and naught but a ragged snag 
 of bulwark lifted to view above the combers. 
 
 In an ordinary run of weather the creek, as it 
 emerged from out the dense foliage at the mouth 
 of the Hollow, generally sank its waters into the 
 loose sand of the beach; but this morning, flush with 
 last night's heavy rains, it swept from out the gully 
 in a veritable river, emptying its muddy flow directly 
 into the lake. We were close to the south of it, on 
 the same bank that my recent strange experiences 
 had transpired. Although I knew we were but 
 shortly from the spot of my captivity, the spot where 
 last I had seen Bruce, I could come to no determin- 
 ation as to what effort it were best to put forth in 
 order to find him and apprise him of this grim 
 tragedy of the storm. Whether to call, whether to 
 wait till daylight, or whether to start search for him, 
 search that darksome, horror-infected gully with 
 this wierd semi-light hovering over all, and this thin
 
 296 ONAWAGO 
 
 sift of snow besides, search its all but impenetrable 
 thickets with danger and hostility lurking within 
 every bush I recoiled inwardly at the thought. 
 Yet how for he must be found! I nerved myself 
 for the ordeal. I turned and addressed Moccasin, 
 consulting him and asking his assistance. 
 
 "Let the other pale-face's medicine save him if 
 he will," he returned doggedly. "His own medi- 
 cine is big, though it is bad, Has not the Son-of- 
 my-Brother seen enough to satisfy his young heart 
 for one night? Must he still walk the same paths 
 walked by those of bad medicine? If he must, then 
 even the mighty medicines of the great Topinabe 
 may not save him from his enemies. If he must, 
 then let him go. But the medicines of the Potta- 
 wattamies like not to be sport for the accursed of 
 the Miamas." 
 
 "Look here, Moccasin," I retorted, provoked 
 at his obstinacy, "let me ask you this: Is the ghost 
 of a Miama more powerful than the spirit of an Ot- 
 tawa? Can the ghosts of two Miamas be more 
 powerful than the spirit of one Ottawa, if the spirit 
 of that Ottawa be the spirit of the greatest warrior 
 your people ha*ve ever known. Answer me! 
 Which is the stronger?"
 
 ONAWAGO 297 
 
 "There is but one Ottawa who ruled among my 
 people and was mighty," he replied. "And the 
 Otter was not accursed. Instead the Manitou's ears 
 were always open to his councils. He uttered the 
 laws of the Great Spirit and understood the voice of 
 the thunder. The Otter hated the Miamas. They 
 were a tribe of cowardly curs. But the Great 
 Spirit's heart was warm towards them. He loved 
 them more than he even loved the brave and war- 
 like Pottawatamies. An Ojibway daughter of the 
 Pottawattamies betrayed the Otter. The tribe suf- 
 fered for the deed. Pontiac cursed her. She cursed 
 the tribe. No more are they a race of warriors. 
 They are a tribe of wanderers. They were Pontiac's 
 children and he loved them. Two Miama Ghosts 
 are more powerful than many Pottawattamies. But 
 the spirit of the greatest of the Ottawas is power- 
 ful even unto the Manitou. Why does the Son 
 of my Brother ask?" 
 
 "Because there is not and never has been any- 
 thing such as a Miama Ghost in the Hollow. The 
 track still lies in the forest, but no Miama is it who 
 leaves that trail. I do not gainsay but that another 
 spirit does lurk about, for I have seen with my own 
 eyes. If the Otter is mighty even unto the Great
 
 298 ONAWAGO 
 
 Manitou himself, then your medicines, Moccasin, are 
 worth just so much dirt. She of the track, com- 
 mands him in life as she will in death. But I suspect 
 that before long he shall again see see to find his 
 way unto the Happy Hunting Grounds. 'The 
 other paleface,' as you just now termed him, Moc- 
 casin, has no medicine, either good or bad. Last 
 night he lost to Pontiac's gain. Yet Pontiac has not 
 yet gained all. If he gains again, he can then depart 
 in peace to the great hereafter of your people and 
 rule as of old among his subjects. Come, do you 
 still refuse to accompany me?" 
 
 "Son of my Brother speaks with the wisdom of a 
 sooth-sayer. How does he know so much?" 
 
 "Believe me or not, as you will. I've stated cold 
 facts. If you're going with me, then come but no 
 stay here. Martha must not be left here. Luxor 
 will follow me. 'Lux,' come. Good-bye Martha, 
 girl! I'll be back soon." 
 
 "Don't risk it, Dave; please! Yet yet Bruce 
 must be found. Let me go with you. Let Moc- 
 casin guard here alone. With Luxor along, no 
 harm can befall us. Moccasin, will you stay?" 
 
 "My daughter is stout of heart. She fears noth- 
 ing, even by night. She may go for no harm
 
 ONAWAGO 299 
 
 shall overtake her. She is safe for she is brave. 
 The Otter loved stout hearts. Go, Nin-don-son, 
 for your heart is stout." 
 
 In the cold gray of dawn we watched Moccasin 
 quietly seat himself upon the sand beside the corpse 
 and drooping his head forward, stare fixedly at the 
 pale-face upturned to the dim light. Then silently 
 we turned and started upon our uncertain search. 
 
 Back into the soul-depressing gloom of that 
 loathe some gully we groped our way, beating with 
 difficulty our passage through the dense coverts that 
 edged the swollen creek. I held in mind, as best I 
 could, the location of yesterday's uncanny scenes. I 
 led, Martha silently following, one hand in mine, 
 and I believe the most nerved of us two. Luxor 
 stalked nonchalantly arear, and it occurred to me 
 that I was wholly unarmed and on precarious quest, 
 until, as we neared our wanted destination, sudden- 
 ly knowledge of my helplessness laid possession of 
 me. It required every iota of my will power to 
 muster courage to proceed and voice no such alarm 
 to Martha. 
 
 We had covered some goodly distance by now 
 and I knew we were close unto our wanted destin- 
 ation when commingling with the dull sighing of
 
 300 ONAWAGO 
 
 the wind and the rustling of the foliage, a low groan- 
 ing drifted to our ears. We both started with one 
 accord, and stopping short, turned to one another. 
 Even Luxor shifted his stub ears and drew himself 
 into harkening posture. That the groaning came 
 from not far away was self evident and though the 
 thing sent a chill over us, 'twas but for a moment, 
 till, guided by it, we bore in its direction. Twas 
 but a few steps a few steps of cautiously slinking 
 forward without creating the slightest disturbance 
 amidst that darksome underbrush that as we crept 
 stealthily to wards the groaning groaning which came 
 incessantly and without variation of accent from out 
 the darkness underneath the heavy shrubbery that 
 unexpectantly a voice spoke from the gloom. 
 
 "Lux, good old dog! My God, I knew 
 you'd find me!" 
 
 For past us Luxor had slipped, unbeknown to 
 us, and with a thankful heart I recognized the voice 
 of the sufferer. 
 
 "Bruce," I spoke, "we're here. What ails you, 
 man are you suffering?" 
 
 "Bundy," he answered, "you've saved me again. 
 Great God, how I've prayed you'd come! They 
 all but put the finish to my tether this time sure.
 
 ONAWAGO 301 
 
 Here, I need your help a bit. God, my neck's 
 broken!" 
 
 I stumbled forward in the darkness, and groped 
 about blindly with my hands as he directed me. I 
 strained and twisted at those hateful thongs, yet even 
 with Martha's assistance, we wrenched not one from 
 its firm anchoring. 
 
 "Who is this with you, Dave? Is it Dominique?" 
 "It's I, Bruce, your sister. Oh, you poor boy!" 
 She ceased endeavoring to release him and in- 
 stead slipped around to his head and held it in her 
 lap to ease the torture of his neck. For suspended 
 by all fours suspended by bonds wrapped about 
 both wrists and ankles Bruce hung suspended above 
 the ground between four straining saplings, his head 
 hanging from his shoulders in distressing attitude, 
 the strength of his neck having long since given way. 
 But without a sharp instrument with which to free 
 him, I wrestled in vain with his fetters. 
 
 "How far are we from where we were last to- 
 gether, Bruce?" I asked. "How far from this spot?" 
 "Through the lace- work of those leaves I can see 
 it's growing light. If you'll go where my left arm is 
 pointing, Dave, you'll find we are on the edge of our
 
 302 ONAWAGO 
 
 last night's bivouac. Just step outside this brush and 
 you're there. 'But why do you ask?" 
 
 "Because your pen-knife is buried there and we 
 need it. I'm going, but I'll be back at once." 
 
 And I left them together, Martha and Bruce, 
 Luxor with them; alone I broke through the 
 encircling brush into the open of our late biv- 
 ouac. I stood for a moment and gazed about the 
 place, gazed down the Hollow to where, glimpsed 
 through the gap, the white-frothed waters of the lake 
 lay like a snow clad prairie in the distance; gazed 
 above into the cloud-darkened heavens that brooded 
 low above the snow-drifted hills; gazed up the steep 
 slide of the mountain as it towered white and cold 
 above me, a bulk, heartless and austere. A cold 
 qualm settled at my heart and I turned from this 
 view of a desolate world and started in search for 
 that small pearl prize, hidden somewhere, I knew, 
 hereabout in the sand. I conjured my brain to re- 
 member the exact spot in which we had knelt when 
 surreptitiously I had eased it from his grasp and 
 thrust it beneath the then dry and loose sand, which 
 now was dampened with the snow and well nigh 
 compact. I dug about for some time before finally 
 it came into the feel of my fingers. Then straight-
 
 ONAWAGO 303 
 
 way back into the brush I turned once more to them, 
 but before I had slashed in twain the cords, Bruce 
 addressed me, and there was fear and awe 
 couched in his tone, lest other ears than wanted ones 
 should hear. 
 
 "Dave, my gun you'll find if you but search thor- 
 oughly where I stood before felled. I doubt if they 
 carried it off. She allows no handling or carrying of 
 weapons other than knives. Hunt it, boy! We may 
 need it yet. Let Martha cut these ribbons. Don't 
 spare the time yourself." 
 
 Slipping the knife into Martha's hand as she still 
 held Bruce's head in his agony, leaving her to de- 
 liver him from his awful captivity, I found my way 
 back to the cleared space and commenced my futile 
 search for Bruce's revolver. I sought it in the deceit- 
 ful light of that slow-growing dawn, down upon both 
 hands and knees, straining my eyesight into pierc- 
 ing, the confusing gloom, until suddenly a strange, 
 indescribable sensation held possession of me, pin- 
 ioning me powerless as I knelt. My senses whirled 
 away as with a draft of air. A disquieting sense as of 
 peculiar emptiness crept over me, a careless realiza- 
 tion of the incompleteness of things, a sense as 
 though the earth had been snatched from beneath
 
 304 ONAWAGO 
 
 me and that I drifted aimlessly through space and 
 interminable oblivion, while, at the same time, I 
 seemed clasped within some ponderous pressure and 
 slowly being pressed to nothingness. I could not 
 command myself in the least I could not even so 
 much as lift my head to look about me. Yet during 
 it all, I knew well that I knelt that I was kneeling 
 there in that haunted spot of my recent occupancy, 
 and that this unaccountable inebriation possessed 
 me. A distorted vision was whirling before my 
 eyes a vision of home. 
 
 Flashes from our old fire-place were playing 
 upon the somber dusk of our home living room. 
 Kneeling in devoted service, I saw my mother in 
 the center of the floor, little Mary clasped endear- 
 ingly to her bosom, and I could trace the words, 
 every one, as they flowed from her lips in a travail 
 of despair. I recognized that beautiful and beloved 
 of all utterances, the Lord's Prayer though scarce 
 had I recognized its divine solace when abruptly my 
 vision changed. I saw before me a creature, ter- 
 rible beyond all power of words. Hunched to a 
 sinister posture, it clutched in its bony fingers the 
 beautiful head of a young woman upon whose breast 
 slept peacefully a fair infant. The cruel eyes of the
 
 ONAWAGO 305 
 
 creature gloated with savage exultation into the 
 shrinking ones of the mother, while with a pointed 
 instrument, it pricked and worked at the ashy white 
 forehead of the victim. Then the child and creature 
 vanished, and the woman alone was aught that re- 
 mained of my vision, and she lay dead upon the 
 beach. My vision vanished. My hypnotic spell 
 dispersed. I heard a loud, masculine voice thunder- 
 ing about me; I heard a wild cackle flout his words; 
 I heard a low growl which I recognized. I lifted up 
 my eyes and looked. And as I looked, a shiver of 
 horror and fear shook me through like an ague. I 
 remained powerless to regain my feet, and all I 
 could do was to kneel, look and listen. For close 
 upon me, close above me, almost within touch of 
 me, stood Onawago. Clad in all the barbarity of 
 her medicine dress, a mere ghost of her former self 
 she seemed, so withered, shrunken and ill-propor- 
 tioned was she, with her naked body abhorrent with 
 skin-wrapped bones and cadaverous beneath the 
 wierd half light of dawn. About her loins wrapped 
 a cloth of crimson feathers, while rope after rope of 
 strung teeth draped her detestable figure. Her long 
 gray hair fluttered in the wind and coiled and twisted 
 its oily strands about her ghastly visage. Her un-
 
 306 ONAWAGO 
 
 couth jaws were writhed in a leering grin and the 
 snag of one yellow tooth lay bared to view by the 
 parted lips. Her eyes were glowering wickedly 
 from within their sunken sockets, while standing out 
 villainously from between her withered breasts, the 
 totem-eye glared steadfastly forward, a-twinkle as 
 with fiendish delight, black, glittering, and feverishly 
 blood-shot, while swinging loosely above the viru- 
 lent totem-eye, suspended by a string of iridescent 
 shells, dangled an odd, acorn-shaped thing; I shud- 
 dered at the knowledge of its identity. 
 
 "Back, you fiend! You devil! Back, I say! 
 Touch him and I'll snap your vile head off your 
 shoulders. Think not that you longer have suprem- 
 acy over him, witch that you are! Helpless now are 
 you even as that thing you wear! A fig for your in- 
 cantation of that night! The ears I burned; but, one 
 life of them remained, and yet remains. Just so 
 long as that dog may breathe, thou art checked. 
 Hear me? I again say it, thou art checked! Under- 
 stand? You're powerless, I say, powerless power- 
 less till this dog shall die. Mighty, Marvelous, 
 Mystic, Magic, Bloody, Wierd, Peculiar but hag, 
 there is no 'tragic' till this dog shall die. Now
 
 ONAWAGO 307 
 
 hag, witch, Indian thief, even unto me, what think 
 you now!" 
 
 I huddled spellbound, though I forgot for the 
 nonce my erstwhile fear, for now I, knew, at last, 
 the relation of Luxor's life to my own. 
 
 I recall the shriek arising from far away among 
 the hills, then slowly growing as with the coming of 
 the winds until from out the air above us, the cry 
 broke piercing upon the protracted silence which 
 had fallen upon us. Onawago had thrown herself 
 in agonized attitude, one hand over her eyes, the 
 other fighting, I say, aye, for unless I were deceived 
 by that which mine eyes beheld, other hands than 
 her own were striving for possession of the acorn 
 trinket. I saw two wraith-like hands and the tall 
 wraith-like figure of a magnificent warror evolve 
 almost immediately. When I looked once more, 
 no acorn-like trinket dangled between her withered 
 breasts. Pontiac had taken departure to the great 
 hereafter, to the blessed realms of his people. I 
 was cowed, awed, at witnessing the transpiration of 
 it all. 
 
 'Twas now that I noticed a dark form slinking 
 forward, crouched low to earth and flat upon its 
 belly; watched it worm itself cautiously toward On-
 
 308 ONAWAGO 
 
 awago and slinking yet closer to earth, gather him- 
 self in preparation for a spring. Simultaneously and 
 with an obvious effort she collected herself , and, for a 
 moment, fixed her keen eyes with a maddened fas- 
 cination down upon the crouching Luxor at her 
 feet. While through the morning air rang her 
 taunting laugh, wavering in undulating cadences 
 down the sullen Hollow. 
 
 Shrinking, as from a blow and recoiling involun- 
 tarily before her, I slunk backwards into the brush- 
 edge as I saw her saw her with fawn-like agility, 
 leap suddenly backward and dropping upon all 
 fours, face Luxor with a snarl of rage guttering in 
 her throat. More the wolf than the human incar- 
 nate she seemed; and I noted with a fleeting observ- 
 ance, that her knees as well as her hands and feet 
 trod upon the earth, constituting six in all. 
 
 That which followed, in my memory, is wrapped 
 in dull blur. I caught but little of the detail of the 
 thing, so rapid and changeable did it take place. I 
 looked upon that scene enacted there before me 
 with a sickening clutch upon my heart and a sicken- 
 ing, surging pulsing throughout me. I heard a low, 
 ominous growl vented by them with one accord, 
 and I saw them spring and rush upon each other
 
 ONAWAGO 309 
 
 like veritable beasts which they were. I heard Lux- 
 or's fangs clash incisively and I could see him tear- 
 ing furiously at her unprotected throat as he bore 
 down and I heard the snarl in his throat slowly die 
 away; while bursting from her lips in loud crescen- 
 do, the terrific squall of the panther slowly throbbed 
 away in the distance. Then all was still. Two life- 
 less bodies were what we found them, fast grappled 
 in death. 
 
 A faintness overswept me and I sank prone upon 
 the sand, though retaining, to an extent, my con- 
 sciousness. I heard Bruce go to them, and at the 
 same time, I felt two dear arms clasp me close and 
 tenderly, and, as I lifted my eyes to hers, the light 
 of the dawn was stronger in the east, rendering 
 everything about us more distinct in detail; and, 
 with the knowledge of the light, the memory of the 
 locket flashed into my mind. 
 
 "Martha," I bade her, "give it to him. God 
 grant he learns what he yearns to know!" 
 
 As she slipped quietly forward and across to 
 Bruce, and as she handed it to him, I saw him start, 
 and, half rising from his stooping posture, stare hard 
 and long at the thing, holding it close before him in 
 the dim light. Oft and again his lips moved, at-
 
 310 ONAWAGO 
 
 tempting speech, but his voice forsook him, until, 
 drawing up with a gallant command over himself 
 and standing fully erect, he read with wild abstraction 
 for a moment, then clasped the locket affectionately 
 to his breast. But by now Martha was returned to 
 me, and together we crouched and watched him as 
 he read and realized. Then at length he spoke 
 aloud: 
 
 "Where where did this come from? Speak, 
 fools! Can't you see I'm dying to learn? Where 
 when who " . 
 
 "By the storm, Bruce," Martha answered. "Wo- 
 man cast up fry the waves. Moccasin guards her 
 even now. You'll find them at the mouth of the 
 creek. Go but first read it to us." 
 
 His voice bore dry and husky in dull monotone, 
 as slowly he read, and its every word burned itself 
 indelibly into my memory. 
 
 "I, Ruth Long, am bent upon strange quest. 
 This, should aught mishap me, doth bear me wit- 
 ness. Dating from the siege of Detroit, at which the 
 founder of our family was a subordinate officer of 
 the garrison, dating from then, a malicious fate hath 
 decreed that the first-born of our family shall either 
 die or mysteriously disappear. My eldest offspring,
 
 ONAWAGO 311 
 
 a man-child, did this latter, October seventh, eigh- 
 teen thirty-eight. One clue alone I have, and I am 
 now bent upon my strange quest. May God aid me 
 to find my child, Bruce Long." 
 
 Without a word, we watched him raise his head 
 in triumph, raise his eyes to the heavens above, and, 
 lifting his arms on high, cry in a piercing voice: 
 "God be praised!" Then suddenly he turned and 
 tore his way into the brush, bound lakeward and to 
 the mouth of the creek, while slowly we arose and 
 together began our painful trudge up the long, grad- 
 ual acclivity of the great sand mountain, on our 
 homeward way. And naught but once did either of 
 us speak. 
 
 "Dave," she said, "I'll never leave the woods 
 now nor you." 
 
 THE END.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 SwAGO; OR, THE BETRAYER OF PONTIAC BEN 
 
 30112025324713