Part 50 (1/2)
”Quite well, thank you. We came down to see how the boys were getting on in camp.”
”They've got on very nicely _sense my boy j'ined them_,” retorted Mrs. Burns, still fencing.
”So I understand; the other two have become very fond of him,”
returned Mrs. Raften, seeking to disarm her enemy.
This speech had its effect. Mrs. Burns aimed only to forestall the foe, but finding to her surprise that the enemy's wife was quite gentle, a truce was made, and by the time Mrs. Raften had petted and praised the four tow-tops and lauded Guy to the utmost the air of latent battle was replaced by one of cordiality.
The boys now had everything ready for the grand ceremony. On the Calfskin rug at one end was the Council; Guy, seated on the skin of the Woodchuck and nearly hiding it from view, Sam on his left hand and Yan with the drum, on his right. In the middle the Council fire blazed. To give air, the teepee cover was raised on the shady side and the circle of visitors was partly in the teepee and partly out.
The Great War Chief first lighted the peace pipe, puffed for a minute, then blew off the four smokes to the four winds and handed it to the Second and Third War Chiefs, who did the same.
Little Beaver gave three thumps on the drum for silence, and the Great Woodp.e.c.k.e.r rose up:
”Big Chiefs, Little Chiefs, Braves, Warriors, Councillors, Squaws, and Papooses of the Sanger Indians: When our Tribe was at war with them--them--them--other Injuns--them Birchbarks, we took prisoner one of their warriors and tortured him to death two or three times, and he showed such unusual stuff that we took him into our Tribe--”
Loud cries of ”How--How--How,” led by Yan.
”We gave a sun-dance for his benefit, but he didn't brown--seemed too green--so we called him Sapwood. From that time he has fought his way up from the ranks and got to be Third War Chief--”
”How--How--How.”
”The other day the hull Tribe j'ined to attack an' capture a big Grizzly and was licked bad, when the War Chief Sapwood came to the rescue an' settled the owld baste with one kick on the snoot. Deeds like this is touching. A feller that kin kick like that didn't orter be called Sapwood nor Saphead nor Sapanything. No, sirree! It ain't right. He's the littlest Warrior among the War Chiefs, but he kin see farder an' do it oftener an' better than his betters. He kin see round a corner or through a tree. 'Cept maybe at night, he's the swell seer of the outfit, an' the Council has voted to call him 'Hawkeye.'”
”How--How--How--How--How--”
Here Little Beaver handed the Head War Chief a flat white stick on which was written in large letters ”Sapwood.”
”Here's the name he went by before he was great an' famous, an' this is the last of it.” The Chief put the stick in the fire, saying, ”Now let us see if you're too green to burn.” Little Beaver then handed Woodp.e.c.k.e.r a fine Eagle feather, red-tufted, and bearing in outline a man with a Hawk's head and an arrow from his eye. ”This here's a swagger Eagle feather for the brave deed he done, and tells about him being Hawkeye, too” (the feather was stuck in Guy's hair and the claw necklace put about his neck amid loud cries of ”How--How--” and thumps of the drum), ”and after this, any feller that calls him Sapwood has to double up and give Hawkeye a free kick.”
There was a great chorus of ”How--How.” Guy tried hard to look dignified and not grin, but it got beyond him. He was smiling right across and half way round. His mother beamed with pride till her eyes got moist and overflowed.
Every one thought the ceremony was over, but Yan stood up and began: ”There is something that has been forgotten, Chiefs, Squaws and Pappooses of the Sanger Nation: When we went out after this Grizzly I was witness to a bargain between two of the War Chiefs. According to a custom of our Tribe, they bet their scalps, each that he would be the one to kill the Grizzly. The Head Chief Woodp.e.c.k.e.r was one and Hawkeye was the other. Hawkeye, you can help yourself to Woodp.e.c.k.e.r's scalp.”
Sam had forgotten about this, but he bowed his head. Guy cut the string, and holding up the scalp, he uttered a loud, horrible war-whoop which every one helped with some sort of noise. It was the crowning event. Mrs. Burns actually wept for joy to see her heroic boy properly recognized at last.
Then she went over to Sam and said, ”Did you bring your folks here to see my boy get praised?”
Sam nodded and twinkled an eye.
”Well, I don't care who ye are, Raften or no Raften, you got a good heart, an' it's in the right place. I never did hold with them as says 'There ain't no good in a Raften.' I always hold there's some good in every human. I know your Paw _did_ buy the mortgage on our place, but I never did believe your Maw stole our Geese, _an' I never will_, an' next time I hear them runnin' on the Raftens I'll jest open out an' tell what I know.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: The picture on the Teepee Lining, to record Guy's Exploit.]
XXII
The c.o.o.n Hunt