The Belt of Seven Totems. Munroe Kirk
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ready for use and always in the best of repair. Besides these, the forest was threaded with trails worn by countless generations of Indian runners, traders, hunters, and fighters, and these were as familiar to the dwellers in the shade as are the streets of a city to one born within its walls.
Along one of these devious trails, narrow and so dim that an unpractised eye would quickly have lost it, sped a solitary runner. He was young and goodly to look upon, while his movements were as graceful as those of the deer, whose soft-tanned skins constituted his attire. He was bareheaded, and in his hair was fastened a single feather from the wing of an osprey or fishing eagle.
A noticeable feature of his costume was a broad belt of wampum, worn diagonally across his breast so that it might readily be seen and recognized. On it at short intervals were worked seven figures representing birds, beasts, and fishes, for it was the Belt of Seven Totems, indicating the authority of Longfeather the Peacemaker, and the young runner now wearing it so conspicuously was none other than Nahma, his only son.
While Longfeather awaited the return of his messenger to Canonicus and made ready the presents intended for Sacandaga, chief sachem of the Maquas, news came that the Narragansett embassy to that same powerful chieftain had already set forth on its mission. Thus there was no time to be lost if his own message was to reach Sacandaga first, an event that he deemed to be of the utmost importance. The chiefs whom he desired to send as ambassadors could not travel at greater speed than could the Narragansetts, who had a two days’ start, but it was possible that a fleet-footed runner might even yet overtake and pass them. As this thought flashed through Longfeather’s mind he knew that if the thing might be done it could only be accomplished by the swiftest of all his runners, and he promptly caused Nahma to be summoned.
At that moment the young warrior was listening with eager interest to the stories of white men and their great winged canoes, told by Samoset, an Abenaki youth of his own age, who had accompanied his chieftain to the council at Montaup.
“What do they call their tribe?” inquired Nahma, “and of what nature is their speech? Doth it resemble ours so that one may comprehend their words?”
“They appear to be of many tribes,” replied Samoset, “though we call them all ‘Yengeese.’ Also they speak with many tongues, strange and unpleasant to the ear.”
“What are they like, these tongues? Hast thou not caught some word that we may hear?”
“Often they say ‘Hillo’ and ‘Sacré,’” replied Samoset, “but what these mean I know not. Also, once, where from hiding I watched them cooking fish on a beach, a pebble rolled from me to them. As they sprang up in alarm I slipped away, fearing lest they might take offence. As I did so one of them cried out very loud, ‘Mass i-sawit!’” (By the mass I saw it.)
“Massasoit,” repeated Nahma, thoughtfully. “It hath a familiar sound, and might be a word of the Wampanoags, except that it is without meaning. I long greatly to see these white-skinned fish-catchers and their big canoes that resemble floating hill-tops with trees growing in them. So if it may be arranged I will return with thee, Samoset, to look upon these wonders. But you have said naught of the thunder-sticks about which we hear so much. What of them? Are they indeed as terrible as represented?”
Ere Samoset could answer, Nahma received word that Longfeather desired his presence, and, promising shortly to rejoin his companions, he left them. Ten minutes later, without their knowledge or that of any person in all Montaup, save only his parents, the young runner had left his father’s lodge bound on a solitary mission, longer, more important, and more dangerous than any he had heretofore undertaken. He was to make his way with all speed and in utmost secrecy to Sacandaga, head sachem of the Maquas, and urge him, in the name of Longfeather, not to treat with the Narragansetts or any other single tribe before the arrival of the Peacemaker’s own embassy.
Longfeather had given his instructions hastily and in a few words. He had invested the lad with his own superb belt as a badge of authority, and had dismissed him with the peremptory orders of a sachem, delivered in the loving tone of a father who sends his only son into danger.
Besides the Belt of Seven Totems, Nahma carried only a bow and arrows slung to his back, a wallet of parched corn bruised in a mortar until it formed a coarse meal, a small fire-bag of flints and tinder, and a copper knife, the precious gift of his father. Having taken but five minutes for preparation, he tenderly embraced his mother and bade her farewell. Filled with a presentiment of coming evil, Miantomet clung to him as though she could not let him go; but, comforting her with loving words, the lad gently disengaged her arms from about his neck and sprang away. In another minute he had plunged into the forest and was lost to sight amid its blackness.
For some hours the way was partially revealed by the light of a young moon, and by the time of its setting Nahma had placed a score of miles between him and Montaup. Then, as he could no longer make speed through the darkness, he flung himself down at the foot of a great oak and was almost instantly fast asleep.
By earliest dawn he was again on the trail, and all that day he sped forward with hardly a pause. Occasionally he passed a group of bark huts nestled beside some smooth-flowing stream and surrounded by rudely tilled fields; but at none of these did he halt, save only now and then for a few mouthfuls of food. The belt that he wore insured him everywhere a glad welcome and instant service. He forded or swam the smaller streams; while at points where his trail crossed rivers he always found canoes that he did not hesitate to appropriate to his own use if their owners were not at hand. He was on the king’s business and nothing might delay it.
Thus Nahma sped so swiftly on his errand that an hour before sunset of the second day found him, very weary but exultant, on the eastern bank of the Shatemuc and at the border of the country claimed by the Iroquois, of whom the Maquas were the easternmost tribe. He was farther from home than he had ever been before and in a region of which he had no knowledge. At the same time he knew that the Maquas, being now at peace with the New England tribes, were accustomed to send hunting-parties east of their great river, and so he had hoped to find one or more canoes at the crossing. In this, however, he was disappointed, for, search as he might, he could discover none of the desired craft, though he found a place where several had but recently been concealed.
As there were no other traces of human presence in that vicinity, Nahma concluded that the canoes had been taken by persons coming from across the river. He did not suspect that it might have been done by the Narragansetts whom he was striving to outstrip; for thus far he had discovered no sign of them, and had reached a conclusion that they must have taken some other trail. At any rate, there was no canoe to be had, and, as he was determined to cross the river before dark, he must swim it. This he did, keeping dry his scanty clothing and few belongings by floating them on a small raft of bark that he pushed before him. Arrived on the farther side our young runner made a startling discovery. Not only were a number of canoes drawn out on the bank and concealed beneath overhanging bushes, but on the soft ground beside them he found the unmistakable imprint of Narragansett moccasins. Also, a short distance back from the river, he came upon the still smouldering remains of a small fire. At length, then, he was close upon the heels of his rivals, and he must at all hazards pass them that night in order to gain a first hearing from Sacandaga. At the same time he was in immediate need of food and rest, for he was faint with hunger and exhausted by his recent exertions. There was no sign of danger, his rivals had gone on, and the fire they had so kindly provided invited him to cook food that was to be had for the taking.
So abounding with fish were all the streams of that land that no one possessed of even ordinary skill at catching them need go hungry. Nahma was well aware of this, and, taking a pinch of his parched corn, he stepped back to the river’s bank and cast it upon the water. In another moment he had transfixed with an unerring arrow one of the half-dozen large fish that rushed greedily to the surface, and his supper was provided. Having cooked it and satisfied his ravenous hunger, the lad withdrew to a thicket well beyond the circle of firelight and flung himself down for an hour of sleep before continuing his journey.
The young runner was lost to consciousness within a minute after closing his eyes; but not until his heavy breathing gave notice of the fact did a painted savage, who for more than an hour had watched his every