D CHAPTER LII 'AN UNBIDDEN GUEST "The red-bird warbled as she wrought HE trill of the robin mingled with the sharp call of the bluebird, the dandelions and spring violets starred the sward, gleaming gold and blue; from the gnarled apple trees the gentle zephyrs of the fair May day fluttered the pink and white petals of the sweet-scented blossoms, carpeting the velvet grass with a bridal veil. The air was vocal with drowsy sounds, the low hum of the bee, the twitter of birds, the ripple of brooklets, underlying the deep diapason of the sounding sea as the waves dashed against the base of the cliffs. Sailing on level wing, a hawk floated with monotonous motion, circling lower and lower, the slanting rays of the descending sun flaming upon his brown plumage, flecking his wings with amber and gold against the azure sky and pearly drifts. In front of the Montauk Sachem's lodge the green turf spread away, sloping gradually to the forest line, and o'ercanopied by tall, satin-leaved oaks, a sort of dais had been erected, beneath an immense arch of trailing vines, bright-hued spring flowers, violets, cowslips, the royal red of the gay nose-bleed, and the crimson velvet of love-lies-bleeding, lighting the mass of green like jets of flame. There was a preparation for a festival, although the village was unusually quiet. Now and again a grim warrior in elaborate attire, and armed to the teeth, stalked across the arena, or a bright-eyed maiden peeped from a wigwam, the only signs of life in the village. Slowly the sun retired to his western couch, the changeful hues swept across the drapery of his couch in cloudlets, like magic pictures shifting upon an opal canvas. The round, red moon rose from beneath the wave, and the stars flashed out in masses of jewelled points. Then, like enchantment, the scene changed. In single file bedecked warriors strode along the broad path leading to the wigwam and ranged themselves in solid cordon about the moss-carpeted lawn, in three ranks. Those of the inner circle bore flaming pine knots that flashed redly upon the canopy and great lodge, and illuminated the dim forest in the background for a depth of many yards. Each brave was in full dress of gorgeous blanket, gay-coloured plume, gaudily wrought moccasins, and with all the adornment of bear-claw necklace; bright-hued beads and glittering wampum, and each fully armed with his bow and a full complement of arrows in the quiver at his back, and with war-club, spear, tomahawk and scalping-knife, as if marshalling for the war-path. But the array was for a different occasion. Wyandance was about to give his daughter to the great brave who had earned his reward by a deed which was known to none save the royal family. The minor tribes had each sent a delegation of their most renowned chiefs, wise men and braves; even the Canarsees were represented by their sole survivor, Canady, who had taken up his abode with the Montauks. Presently Poniute, the prospective groom, stalked into the ring, with uplifted head and haughty mien, as if fully conscious of his exalted position, and halting near the door of the lodge, where he stood motionless, the cynosure of all eyes. He had chosen a costume eminently becoming. A coronet of scarlet and black feathers girded his high, narrow brow, and in place of the gaudy blanket he wore a loose hunting shirt, of softest doeskin, embroidered and fringed, heavy with wampum, but sleeveless and open at the chest, as if to exhibit a livid scar, the mark of a deep wound received in defending his princess at that other wedding festival which had ended so disastrously. A necklace and bracelets of panther's teeth, polished to pearly lustre, completed his attire. At that other marriage feast the guests had been unarmed careless; now they stood a living barricade, equipped for battle, while in the numerous paths leading oceanward, and to the depths of the forests, scouts were on the alert, who would give instant alarm at the approach of friend or foe. Yet there was slight probability of an attack, for the intended alliance was known only to a few, and those the chiefs of the minor tribes, until the day preceding the festivities; while from the white settlers, even Lyon Gardiner and his family, the affair was a profound secret. Presently the spotted catamount skin covering the entrance of the chief's lodge was drawn aside, and Wyandance stepped forth, holding his daughter's hand, followed by Wyancombone, Wic-chi-tau-bit, and a group of merry maidens. From a second lodge a triad of chiefs appeared, Momometou, chieftain of the Corchaigs; Nowedanah, Sagamore of the Shinnecocks, tall, majestic, upright, although the snows of more than fourscore years had bleached their still abundant locks to masses of silver floss, eagle-eyed, and stern of mien as became the brothers of the Great Sachem of the Montauks. With them came Yo-kee, the young chieftain of the Manhansetts, all the native pride inherited from his father apparent in his lofty carriage, his uplifted head, his flashing eyes, as he took his appointed place, beside his kinsmen. Very little looked Heather Flower like a happy bride as her father placed her hand in the groom's dusky palm, and she stood there with haughty brow and set lips, pledged before the assembled chiefs and braves of Sea-wan-ha-ka as the wife of the warrior at her side, from whose belt a gruesome trophy hung-the waving, silken scalp of a white man. If the savage guests wondered where that tell-tale trophy was secured, none questioned. A triumphant smile played about the bridegroom's lips as he peered over that assemblage and knew that he was the centre of admiring glances from those sharp, restless eyes, and that as the husband of their princess he must outrank the elder chieftains, for by that marriage he would become a member of the royal family. Seated beside her lord, beneath the flowery canopy, Heather Flower looked over the sea of waying plumes, with a haughty, rather than an abashed gaze; not a blush suffused her cheek, no love-light filled her eyes, for memory-bells were ringing in her ears, telling of the days when she carolled as sweetly, as blithely as the song birds, as she wandered through the forest in maiden-fancy free, before the false pale face came with honeyed words and deceitful smile to lure the heart from her bosom. Again she saw the daisy wreath with which her brow was crowned by the delicate, white hand long ago mouldered to dust. Her idol was shattered, her revenge was complete, a life-long servitude was the price she had paid for those silken strands hanging at the girdle of the grim, red-handed warrior to whom she had sold her freedom. Presently the merry-making began; some engaged in feats of skill in throwing the tomahawk and lance, others exhibited their adroitness as archers, while the younger portion of the guests danced to the monotonous beat of tom-toms and the hollow, droning sounds produced by blowing of conch-shells. An hour passed, when, in obedience to a signal from their Sachem, the revellers paused. Obeying a wave of his hand, the band moved away in single file to the open glade where the feast was spread; but scarcely were the guests seated when there was a stir among the warriors, whose quick ears had caught the swift fall of approaching footsteps, and in a moment one of their scouts glided within the circle of light. As a single man the warriors sprang to their feet and grasped their weapons, but the young Indian raised his hand, palm outward, in token that only friends were at hand, and from a narrow footpath two figures advanced, Captain Gardiner and Henry Lawrence. The old Sachem and the warriors recognised both at a glance, and met them with open palm of welcome; but even Indian stoicism failed for a brief space, the chief's hand fell to his side and he stopped short in his tracks, when they stooped and deposited their burden upon the earth, a litter upon which |