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"Amochol's arm is long, O you Oneida dogs who howl outside the Long House gates! Amochol's eyes are like the white-crested eagle's eyes, seeing everything, and his ears are like the red buck's ears, so that nothing stirs unheard by him. "Phantoms arise and walk at night; Amochol sees. Under earth and water, demons are breathing; Amochol hears.
For this is Amochol's frontier; and by tomorrow night we enter Catharines-town thou and I, little Lois two Hidden Children one hidden by the Western Gate, one by the Eastern Gate's dark threshold, 'hidden in the husks....How shall it be with us now, O little rosy spirit of the home-wood? My Indians will ask. What shall I say to them concerning you?"
Until then you must not leave this camp; and after the army marches you must not go outside this fort. Amochol's arm is long. His acolytes are watching. And now I think you understand at last." She nodded. Presently she rested her pale cheek on her arms and looked at the reddening edges of the woods. Northwest lay Catharines-town, so Mayaro said.
Then the Night Hawk, who stood guard at the river, uttered the shrill Oneida view-halloo; and into the thicket we all sprang crashing, and strove to catch the creature alive; but the Sagamore had to strike to save his own skull; and out of the bushes we dragged one of Amochol's greasy-skinned assassins, still writhing, twisting, and clawing as we flung him heavily and like a scotched snake upon the river sand, where the Mohican struck him lifeless and ripped the scalp from his oiled and shaven head.
Never since the Atotarho covered his face from Hiawatha never since the snakes were combed from his hair has a Priest of the Long House dared to doubt the Prophetess of the Seneca nation. Doubt and die!" Amochol's face was like pale brown marble; twice he half turned toward the executioner, but gave no signal.
I ventured to remind him of the General's instructions that we find the Chinisee Castle and report at sunrise. "Damn it, I know it," he retorted impatiently, "but I have my own plans; and the General will bear me out when I fling Amochol's scalp at his feet." The Grey-Feather drew me aside and said in a low, earnest voice: "We are too many to surprise Amochol.
But we really need no other Indians than my Sagamore, the two Oneidas, and the Stockbridge, Yellow Moth, to do Amochol's business for him, if you and your twenty riflemen are going." "I think as you do; and so I told the General, who wanted Major Parr to command and the entire battalion to march.
Judge, therefore, O Sagamore, judge, you Yellow Moth, and you Oneidas Grey-Feather, with your war-chief's feather and your Sachem's ensign, Tahoontowhee, chieftain to be judge, all of you, where the real glory lies whether behind us in the rifle smoke or before us in the red glare of Amochol's accursed altar!" They had been listening to every word as I walked beside them.
Behind her filed the Cat-People, Amochol's hideous acolytes, each wearing the Nez Perce ridge of porcupine-like hair, the lynx-skin cloak and necklace of claws; and all howling to the measure of the little painted drum. I could feel Mayaro beside me, quivering with eagerness and fury; but the time was not yet, and he knew it, as did his enraged comrades.
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