Att ye council even soe ye dogg had walked into ye centre of ye
great cabbin, there saying loudly to ye Elders what he was & that he
must be heard. His voice must be obeyed. His was not ye mocking cryes of
a witch from under an olde snake-skin, butt a chief come from Paradise
to comfort his own people. My father asked me if I was agreed. I said
that witches did not battile as openly as ye dogg, butt doe their evil
in ye dark.
These wild men are sore beset with witches and devils--more than
Christians, as they deserve to be, for they are of Satan's own
belonging.
My father dreamed att night, & sang about itt, making ye fire to bourne
in our cabbin. We satt to listen. He had mett ye ffrench dogg in ye
forest path bye night--he standing accross his way, & ye forest was
light from ye dogg's eyes, who spake to my father saying, "I belong to
ye dead folks--my hattchett is rust--my bow is mould--I can no longer
battile with our Ennemy, butt I hover over you in warre--I direct your
arrows to their breasts--I smoothe ye little dry sticks & wett ye leaves
under ye shoes--I draw ye morning mist accross to shield you--I carry ye
'Kohes' back and fore to bring your terror--I fling aside ye foeman's
bulletts--go back and be strong in council."
My father even in ye night drew ye Elders in ye grand cabbin. He said
what he had seen and heard. Even then the great ffrench dogg gott from
ye darkness of ye cabbin, & strode into ye fyre.
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