Part 63 (2/2)

In my astonishment it occurred to me that instead of twenty-two I was now twenty-five years of age, if what the Mohican said were true.

”Listen, Loskiel, blood-brother of mine, for you shall hear the truth now--the truth which Guy Johnson never told you.

”It was in '57; Munro lay at Fort William Henry; Webb at Fort Edward; and Montcalm came down from the lakes with his white-coats and Hurons and shook his sword at Munro and spat upon Webb.

”Then came Sir William Johnson to Webb with half a thousand Iroquois.

And because Sir William was the only white man we Delawares trusted, and in spite of his Iroquois, three Mohicans offered their services--the Great Serpent, young Uncas, and I, Mayaro, Sagamore of the Siwanois.”

He paused, then with infinite contempt:

”Webb was a coward. Nor could Sir William kick him forward. He lay s.h.i.+vering behind the guns at Edward; and Fort William Henry fell. And the white-coats could do nothing with their Hurons; the prisoners fell under their knives and hatchets--soldiers, women, little children.

”When Montcalm had gone, Webb let us loose. And, following the trail of murder, in a thicket among the rocks we came upon a young woman with a child, very weak from privation. Guy Johnson and I discovered them--he a mere youth at that time.

”And the young woman told him how it had been with her--that her husband and herself had been taken by the St. Regis three years before--that they had slain her husband but had offered her no violence; that her child had been born a few weeks later and that the St. Regis chief who took her had permitted her to make of it a Hidden Person.

”For three years the fierce St. Regis chief wooed her, offering her the first place in his lodge. For three years she refused him, living in a bush-hut alone with her child, outside the St. Regis village, fed by them, and her solitude respected. Then Munro came and his soldiers scattered the St. Regis and took her and her baby to the fort. And the St. Regis chief sent word that he would kill her if she ever married.”

So painfully intent was I on his every low-spoken word that I scarce dared breathe as the story of my mother slowly unfolded.

”Guy Johnson and I took the young woman and her child to Edward,” he said. ”Her name was Marie Loskiel, and she told us that she was the widow of a Scotch fur trader, one Ian Loskiel, of Saint Sacrament.”

There was another silence, as though he were not willing to continue.

Then in a quiet voice I bade him speak; and he spoke, very gravely:

”Your mother's religion and Guy Johnson's were different. If that were the reason she would not marry him I do not know. Only that when he went away, leaving her at Edward, they both wept. I was standing by his stirrup; I saw him--and her.

”And--he rode away, Loskiel.... Why she tried to follow him the next spring, I do not know.... Perhaps she found that love was stronger than religion.... And after all the only difference seemed to be that she prayed to the mother of the G.o.d he prayed to.... We spoke of it together, the Great Serpent, young Uncas, and I. And Uncas told us this. But the Serpent and I could make nothing of it.

”And while Guy Johnson was at Edward, only he and I and your mother ever saw or touched you.... And ever you were tracing with your baby fingers the great Ghost Bear rearing on my breast----”

”Ah!” I exclaimed sharply. ”That is what I have struggled to remember!”

He drew a deep, unsteady breath:

”Do you better understand our blood-brotherhood now, Loskiel?”

”I understand--profoundly.”

”That is well. That is as it should be, O my blood-brother, pure from birth, and at adolescence undefiled. Of such Hidden Ones were the White-Plumed Sagamores. Of such was Tamanund, the Silver-Plumed; and the great Uncas, with his snowy-winged and feathered head--Hidden People, Loskiel--without stain, without reproach.

”And as it was to be recorded on the eternal wampum, you were found at Guy Johnson's landing place asleep beside a stranded St. Regis canoe; and your dead mother lay beside you with a half ounce ball through her heart. The St. Regis chief had spoken.”

”Why do you think he slew her?” I whispered.

”Strike flint. It is safe here.”

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