Yet, Sir William had seen the child at Askalege dancing in the stream of sparks that poured from Spencer's smithy when the Oneida blacksmith pumped his home-made bellows or struck fire-flakes from the cherry-red iron.
I said: "Are you sure, Nick? For never have I seen an Indian maid play boy in earnest."
"She is the little witch-maid of Askalege--their prophetess," he repeated. "I saw her once at Oneida Lake, dancing on the shore amid a whirl of yellow butterflies at their strawberry feast. God send she favours our party, for the Oneidas will follow her."
I turned to the girl, who was standing quietly beside a young silver birch-tree.
"Who are you, my sister, who wear a little blue moon on your brow, and the dress and weapons of an adolescent?"
"Brother," she said in her soft Oneida tongue, "I am an Athabascan of the Heron Clan, adopted into the Oneida nation. My name is Thiohero,[7] and my privilege is Oyaneh.[8] Brother, I come as a friend to liberty, and to help you fight your great war against your King.
[Footnote 8: The noble or honourable one. The feminine of Royaneh, or Sachem, in the Algonquin.]
"Brother, I have spoken," she concluded, with lowered eyes.
Surprised and charmed by this young girl's modesty and quiet speech, but not knowing how to act, I thanked her as I had the young men, and offered her my hand.
She took it, lifted her deep, wide eyes unabashed, looked me calmly and intelligently in the face, and said in English:
"My adopted father is Thomas Spencer, the friend to liberty, and Oneida interpreter to your General Schuyler. My adopted uncle is the great war-chief Skenandoa, also your ally. The Oneida are my people. And are now become your brothers in this new war."
"Your words make our hearts light, my sister."
"Your words brighten our sky, my elder brother."
Our clasped hands fell apart. I turned to Tahioni:
"Brother, why are you in battle-paint?" I demanded.
At that the eyes of the Oneida youths began to sparkle and burn; and Tahioni straightened up and struck the knife-hilt at his belt with a quick, fierce gesture.
"Give me a name that I may know my brother," he said bluntly. "Even a tree has a name." And I flushed at this merited rebuke.
"My name is John Drogue, and I am lieutenant of our new State Rangers," said I. "And this is my comrade, Nicholas Stoner, of Fonda's Bush, and first sergeant in my little company."