ing been provided with a new home, the band of
copper-hued patriots now began to cross the Niagara. They
were loyalists of another than the white race, and, like
the other Loyalists, they had left their Long Houses
behind in the hands of the stranger. On their bodies were
the marks and scars of many a campaign; their limbs had
become suppler with the long march and swarthier in the
summer sun; they did not dare to cast a glance back at
the fair land that had been the hunting-ground of their
fathers. With them were their women, dark-eyed Amazons
of the north. Their little ones toddled by their side.
The journey was shortly over and they beheld the waters
of the Grand river, flowing between their narrow banks.
Here, in the flowering glades, they raised their tents
and lit anew their council fires. Then they toiled up
against the current, searching out the borders of their
country; down-stream they shot again, their glad eyes
beaming as they saw how wide and goodly was their heritage.

The nation of the Mohawks had come to Canada to stay.
Among them settled many from their kindred tribes, red
men who would not forsake their Great White Father the
King. By the sheltering boughs of the regal maple, the
silver-garbed beech, or the drooping willow they built
the rough huts of a forest people. Then they tilled the
soil, and learned to love their new abode. Although of
a ferocious stock, unrivalled in the arts of savage
warfare, the Mohawks and other Indians of the Six Nations
in Canada have rarely, if ever, been surpassed by any
other red men in the ways of peace.

CHAPTER XII

ENGLAND ONCE MORE

Meanwhile, how was it faring with the tribesmen of the
Six Nations who had remained in their former territories
east of the Niagara? They were anxious to come to terms
with the government of the United States, but not by
themselves alone. In any treaty which might be made, they
wished the concurrence of the western tribes. The officials
of the new republic were, however, opposed to this and
treated their desire with scant courtesy. In 1784 a
conference was called at Fort Stanwix, but the western
tribes were not invited to come. While this was taking
place, Red Jacket, the Seneca orator, rose in the company
of his fellows and uttered a speech burning with eloquence.
His attitude towards the Americans had undergone a change
since Brant had undone his treachery before the war had
closed. The Six Nations should renew the