Chapter XI: Ta-Wan-Ne-Ars Understands

"No, we will go to Murray's tavern," I said. "I will ask him if he thinks he can commit assassination here in the town as he does in the forest."

"Good," rejoined Ta-wan-ne-ars impassively. "I will accompany my brother there."

I remembered that de Veulle lodged at Cawston's, and hesitated.

"Let my brother Ormerod be at ease," added the Indian. "Ta-wan-ne-ars has mastered his hatred."

"Very well," I replied. "I shall be glad of your company, but we must not be tempted to violence. There are reasons for my meekness."

"It would not be courteous for Ta-wan-ne-ars to slay his enemy in New York when he is the guest of Ga-en-gwa-ra-go," returned the Seneca as he walked lightly beside me.

"I, too, hate your enemy," I said.

He was silent for as much as ten paces.

"My brother means de Veulle?" he asked.

"Yes; I once crossed swords with him."

"And he lives! Did he wound my brother?"

I recounted briefly the circumstances of the duel at the Toison d'Or. He made no comment until I had finished.

"I am glad my brother spared him," he said then. "For Ta-wan-ne-ars has often prayed to Ha-wen-ne-yu, the Great Spirit, to give him the life of this man who lives as though he were one of the fiends of the Ga-go-sa.[1]

[1] False Faces.

"It is a bond between us that we have the same enemy. We did not need such a bond, Ormerod, but it is a proof that we were meant to be brothers."

At the next corner we met the bellman, trotting heavily.

"A citizen tells me he hath heard a horrid screech," he panted. "Do you know aught----"

"Yes," I told him. "I was attacked by a desperado named Bolling----"

"God save us, I knew there would be mischief with that villain in our midst!" interrupted the bellman.

"There would have been sore mischief done had not this Indian, who is visiting the governor, come to my aid," I rejoined.

"Did you slay the man?" asked the bellman apprehensively.

"No; he fled."

"'Tis a savage rogue, and a deadly. Gadslife, my master, but you had a fortunate escape. I will run to the watch house and give an alarm. Aye, we should have a file of soldiers from the fort. This is no easy task that is set for us. I will----"

His threats and adjurations died away in the distance, as he hurried on, his regular duties forgotten.

"What think you hath become of Bolling?" I asked Ta-wan-ne-ars.

"He is beyond the city limits, brother. There are no palisades for him to pass, and flight will be easy. He must have had a swift horse in readiness, for he would have been obliged to flee equally had he slain you."

"Will they catch him?"

Ta-wan-ne-ars laughed briefly, a trick he had which I afterward discovered to be rare, although not unknown, amongst the Indians.

"Those who are charged with his pursuit? No, brother; as well might the beaver pursue the wild pigeon. He will be buried in the wilderness tomorrow. But some day Ta-wan-ne-ars will come up with him--or perhaps it may be you, Ormerod. That will be a bad day for the Red Death."

At Cawston's we looked in vain for Murray or any of his party in the taproom and ordinary, so without a word to the servants we ascended the stairs to the upper floor. In the hall I halted momentarily, considering which door to knock upon, when the puzzle was solved by the opening of the one by which we stood.

My Lady Green Cloak appeared, and she started back in amazement, tinged with fear, at sight of me and the stalwart, half-naked figure of the Seneca, arms folded across his painted chest, his eagle's-feather reaching almost to the ceiling.

I bowed to her.

"Good evening, Mistress Murray," I said. "I am come with my friend for a word with your father."

"He is engaged," she answered quickly.

"That may be, but I must speak with him on a matter of much importance."

"What is that, sir!"

She began to recover her self-possession.

"What interest have you in common!" she added.

"None, save it be to dislike the other," I replied. "But I am obliged to ask your father for the second time if he condones assassination in the dark."

Her eyes widened with horror, then darkened with stony anger.

"Sir, you are monstrous impertinent!" she exclaimed. "How dare you suggest such a thing!"

"Because it occurred a quarter-hour past."

"And because you are assailed by some foot-pad in a disreputable part of the town, is that a reason for you to charge Master Murray with assassination!" she demanded with high contempt.

"Oh, I have proof," I said airily.

But my anger grew with hers. It maddened me that this girl, who I knew was honest, should be arrayed against me, should hold for me the contempt of a clean woman for a man she deemed a traitor.

"Look you, Mistress Murray," I went on haughtily. "The watch are now searching for your father's emissary. The garrison are to be turned out. Any moment Master Murray is like to receive a summons to go before the governor. He has overplayed his hand this time. He----"

The door behind her opened again, and Murray himself came out.

"I thought I heard voices---- Ah, Master Juggins----"

"Ormerod," I interrupted suavely.

His eyebrows expressed polite astonishment.

"To be sure. Forgive my stupidity. It hath gone so far as that already, hath it?"

"It hath gone so far as attempted assassination--for the second time," I retorted.

"Assassination! Tut, tut," he rebuked me. "Master Ormerod, you use strong language. And who in this little town of ours would seek to murder a gentleman new-landed like yourself?"

Ta-wan-ne-ars stepped to the front.

"Does Murray know this scalp?"

He permitted an end of the lock of Bolling's hair to show through his clinched fingers.

Marjory shrank back in terror. Murray's face became convulsed with passion.

"'Sdeath!" he swore. "If Bolling is dead by this savage's hand I shall know the wherefore of it! What? Do the Iroquois take scalps within the city!"

Ta-wan-ne-ars laughed, and slowly opened his fist to reveal the single lock of hair.

"Ta-wan-ne-ars only takes the scalps of honorable warriors," he said in his smooth, low-pitched voice. "But the Red Death escaped tonight by the width of these hairs. Does Murray think Ga-en-gwa-ra-go would have been angry with Ta-wan-ne-ars if the tomahawk had struck true?"

Murray wiped beads of perspiration from his face.

"So 'twas Bolling!" he muttered. "Curse the knave! What hath he done?"

"No more than attempted to murder me, sir--as I have attempted to tell you," I answered ironically.

Marjory came forward, hands clasped in expostulation.

"It isn't so! It can't be so! Tell him he lies, sir!" she pleaded with Murray.

He put her gently to one side.

"Peace, peace, my dear," he said. "You do not understand."

"But Bolling is the man you called 'Red Jack!'" she expostulated. "You presented me to him. You told him to be sure to remember my face. You jested about his hair and his evil looks."

"The man is likewise called 'The Red Death,' Mistress Murray," I said.

She turned to me, tears in her eyes.

"Oh, sir, pray you, do not bait me!" she cried. "I would not believe you before, but that is the man's hair, beyond a doubt."

"And what if it is?" said Murray kindly, drawing her to him with one arm. "Is that any reason why you should express shame?"

"But he was one of your people, sir. You told me----"

"Tut, tut, my dear Marjory. You are new to this New World of ours. The frontier is not like Scotland. We must work with what tools we find. I say it to my sorrow"--and he said it furthermore without even the twitch of an eyelid--"I am compelled occasionally to consort with men I might prefer to do without."

He gave his attention once more to me.

"In a word, Master Ormerod, what hath happened that you approach me in so hostile a spirit?"

"In a word, Master Murray," I replied, "your man Bolling, or 'The Red Death,' as he seems to be known in these parts, tried to kill me with knife and hatchet this evening."

"I am constrained to believe you," he said with an appearance of much sorrow, "but I can not hold myself responsible, sir."

"It may be that the governor will not be so indulgent," I commented sarcastically.

Murray drew himself erect.

"Sir," he replied, "as it happens, Bolling quarreled with me this afternoon in the presence of half a dozen well-known citizens of the town, and I dismissed him from my service."

"Pardon me," I said with a laugh, "if I express some----"

"Do you step within," he responded with celerity. "I shall be glad if you will satisfy yourself by questioning witnesses of the dispute. Marjory, will you----"

"I will stay," she said positively.

He shrugged his shoulders and stood aside. I motioned to Marjory, and she reëntered first. I walked next, and the Seneca followed me, one hand resting on his knife-hilt.

Murray shut the door behind us, and I found myself in a large room, sufficiently lighted by candles. Five or six men, who had been talking at a table, looked up with interest as we came in. One of them was de Veulle, and I felt rather than saw the massive frame of Ta-wan-ne-ars gather itself together exactly as does the wildcat when he sights his quarry.

The others I did not know. Murray introduced them by names which meant nothing to me, but later Ta-wan-ne-ars told me they were respectable merchants identified with the faction in the province who were hostile to Governor Burnet, and all were for the closest trade relations with Canada.

These men greeted us civilly enough, and gave most of their attention to Ta-wan-ne-ars. De Veulle acknowledged the meeting by a smile that was tinged with mockery. Our clash came when Murray turned to me, after recounting my errand, and said:

"Your companion is evidently a chief, Master Ormerod. Will you identify him?"

Before I could say anything Ta-wan-ne-ars responded for himself.

"I am Ta-wan-ne-ars, of the Clan of the Wolf, war-chief of the Senecas, and nephew to Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, the Guardian of the Western Door of the Long House."

He spoke directly to de Veulle, and the Frenchman's eyes shifted from his level glance.

"Must we have an Indian present?" he muttered. "This is a white man's affair."

"As it happens, this Indian saved my life from a white man's knife," I replied quickly. "He is my brother. I would rather have him here than a woman-stealer."

But I had reckoned without Marjory. She took the situation out of my hands.

"Sir," she said, "you seem to delight in slandering gentlemen who are not disloyal to their faiths. I beseech you, have done. 'Tis a sorry business, and gains naught for you. Get forward with what brought you here."

I marked the relief that shone in de Veulle's eyes. I marked, too, the penetrating glance which Ta-wan-ne-ars bent upon her face. For myself, although I felt sick at heart, I said nothing. There was nothing which I could say.

I turned to Murray again.

"This conversation must be painful to us," I said. "Let us make an end to it. Bolling attacked me, as you know. My friend and brother here saved me and drove him away. We have a lock of Bolling's hair in proof of the attempt.

"The watch are now searching for Bolling. The governor will shortly be apprised. 'Tis in your interest to do what you can to clear yourself of responsibility for so dastardly a crime."

One of the merchants at the table, a very decent-appearing man, soberly dressed and with much good sense in his face, caught me up.

"'Tis not strange that you should have come to Master Murray after such an attempt as you mention, sir," he began in conciliatory fashion. "But fortunately we were present this afternoon when Master Murray dismissed the man from his employ, in consequence of evidence of his dishonesty and misdealing during Master Murray's absence. Bolling left in a great rage, vowing he would put Master Murray in trouble."

"Aye," spoke up a second merchant, "and sure, the knave must have attacked you hoping 'twould be brought against Master Murray."

"Not to speak of the fact he was in great need of funds, Master Murray having refused to grant certain demands he made," suggested a third.

I bowed.

"Gentlemen," I said, "I am satisfied--that Master Murray hath a stout case. There is no more need be said."

"Ah, but there is more to be said," flared Marjory. "Think shame of yourself, sir, to be forever believing against others motives which you know yourself to be laden with. You were once an honorable man. Why do you not mend your ways and regain the self-respect of your kind?"

"God send there be an honorable man to hand when your need comes, mistress," I said. "Good evening, gentlemen."

Murray escorted us to the door.

"I must congratulate you," he said in a low voice. "Faith, you are an enterprising young man. You are doing famously in your new surroundings."

"But I shall not suffer another such attempt as tonight's to pass unanswered," I replied.

"Sure, sir," he said earnestly, "can you not bethink yourself of some trouble in your past which might bring down these troubles upon you!"

I laughed despite myself.

"I can," I agreed. "And so can you. But I would risk denunciation at an extremity, Murray. Red Jack sought the protection of the wilderness. So might I."

"You are safe," he returned. "Believe me or not. 'Tis true."

"You hear?" I said to Ta-wan-ne-ars beside us.

He smiled gravely.

"My brother is safe," he agreed, "for Ta-wan-ne-ars will watch."

"You are thrice fortunate," Murray congratulated me. "You have won the confidence of the noble red man."

Ta-wan-ne-ars looked squarely at him.

"He will win the confidence of the red man, Murray, because he speaks straight. But you speak with the tongue of an Englishman, and think with the mind of a Frenchman."

Murray smiled.

"But always to my own interest, Ta-wan-ne-ars. Well, good luck to the two of you. And do not permit the Keepers to take you alive."

His smile became a sardonic grin.

"The Keepers have their own way with prisoners, you know. 'Tis part of their reward--or so the story goes."

I felt a shock of revulsion against the man. And he was the father of Marjory!

"You double-dyed scoundrel!" I ripped out at him.

"Have I touched your nerves?" he gibed. "Zooks, how sad! Well, I have company. I will bid you good evening."

The door shut behind his mocking grin, and we descended the stairs to the street. Ta-wan-ne-ars walked beside me without speaking until we had left the tavern.

"I understand your thoughts, my brother," he said suddenly. "We go upon the same quest."

"Quest?" I repeated. "What quest?"

"We each seek a soul which is lost, a sick soul."

I remembered his rage against de Veulle, and caught his meaning.

"Yes, that is true of you, Ta-wan-ne-ars. But there is no soul which I have the right to seek."

"Nevertheless, my brother would find the soul of the maiden and guard it," he insisted. "I have seen."

"But I may not help her," I objected. "She will have none of me."

"O my brother," he answered, "once there was one of my people who loved a maiden. And this maiden's soul was taken away by illness and went to dwell with Ata-ent-sic, the Goddess of Lost Souls, who rules the Land of Lost Souls which is behind the Setting Sun. The warrior was bidden in a dream to seek the maiden's soul, and he journeyed for three months to the Setting Sun, past the Abode of Evil, where dwells Ha-ne-go-ate-geh, the Evil Spirit.

"And when he came to the Land of Souls he found his maiden's soul dancing with the other lost souls in a bark cabin before Ata-ent-sic. And Jous-ke-ha, the grandson of Ata-ent-sic, who was a very old man, brought him a pumpkin which had been hollowed out, and told him to place the maiden's soul within. And he did so. And he returned to his people, and made a feast, and after the feast they raised up the maiden's soul out of the pumpkin shell."

He stopped under a flickering lanthorn, which cast a feeble light before the George.

"Surely, my brother, we shall not have to travel so dreadful a journey to regain the souls which we seek!"

I saw the grave smile, with a hint of pleading, on his face; and I reached out and caught his hand.

"Whatever be the end of my search, brother," I said, "I will go to the setting sun, and beyond if need be, to aid you to find the soul which you seek."

"The same words are in my heart, brother," he replied simply.