Many hundreds of persons were in this procession, which was still very grave and solemn, every one in it impressed by tile sacred nature of this ancient rite.The chief entered the great door of the Long House, and all who could find places not reserved followed.Henry went in with the others, and sat in a corner, making himself as small as possible.Many women, the place of whom was high among the Iroquois, were also in the Long House.
The head chiefs sat on raised seats at the north end of the great room.In front of them, on lower seats, were the minor chiefs of the three older nations on the left, and of the three younger nations on the right.In front of these, but sitting on the bark floor, was a group of warriors.At the east end, on both high and low seats, were warriors, and facing them on the western side were women, also on both high and low seats.The southern side facing the chiefs was divided into sections, each with high and low seats.The one on the left was occupied by men, and the one on the right by women.Two small fires burned in the center of the Long House about fifteen feet apart.
It was the most singular and one of the most impressive scenes that Henry had ever beheld.When all had found their seats there was a deep silence.Henry could hear the slight crackling made by the two fires as they burned, and the light fell faintly across the multitude of dark, eager faces.Not less than five hundred people were in the Long House, and here was the red man at his best, the first of the wild, not the second or third of the civilized, a drop of whose blood in his veins brings to the white man now a sense of pride, and not of shame, as it does when that blood belongs to some other races.
The effect upon Henry was singular.He almost forgot that he was a foe among them on a mission.For the moment he shared in their feelings, and he waited with eagerness for whatever might come.
Thayendanegea, the Mohawk, stood up in his place among the great chiefs.The role he was about to assume belonged to Atotarho, the Onondaga, but the old Onondaga assigned it for the occasion to Thayendanegea, and there was no objection.Thayendanegea was an educated man, be had been in England, he was a member of a Christian church, and be had translated a part of the Bible from English into his own tongue, but now he was all a Mohawk, a son of the forest.
He spoke to the listening crowd of the glories of the Six Nations, how Hah-gweh-di-yu (The Spirit of Good) had inspired Hiawatha to form the Great Confederacy of the Five Nations, afterwards the Six; how they had held their hunting grounds for nearly two centuries against both English and French; and how they would hold them against the Americans.He stopped at moments, and deep murmurs of approval went through the Long House.The eyes of both men and women flashed as the orator spoke of their glory and greatness.Timmendiquas, in a place of honor, nodded approval.If he could he would form such another league in the west.
The air in the Long House, breathed by so many, became heated.
It seemed to have in it a touch of fire.The orator's words burned.Swift and deep impressions were left upon the excited brain.The tall figure of the Mohawk towered, gigantic, in the half light, and the spell that he threw over all was complete.
He spoke about half an hour, but when he stopped he did not sit down.Henry knew by the deep breath that ran through the Long House that something more was coming from Thayendanegea.
Suddenly the red chief began to sing in a deep, vibrant voice, and this was the song that he sung:
This was the roll of you, All hail! All hail! All hail!
You that joined in the work, All hail! All hail! All hail!
You that finished the task, All hail! All hail! All hail!
The Great League, All hail! All hail! All hail!
There was the same incessant repetition of "Haih haih!" that Henry had noticed in the chant at the edge of the woods, but it seemed to give a cumulative effect, like the roll of thunder, and at every slight pause that deep breath of approval ran through the crowd in the Long House.The effect of the song was indescribable.Fire ran in the veins of all, men, women, and children.The great pulses in their throats leaped up.They were the mighty nation, the ever-victorious, the League of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee, that had held at bay both the French and the English since first a white man was seen in the land, and that would keep back the Americans now.
