He roared enough to
blow downe caftles in his might & they knew he was saying what he had
told unto my father.
A great Captayne sent another night, & had ye Elders for to gather at ye
grande cabbin. He had been paddling his boat upon ye river when ye dogg
of Mahongui had walked out on ye watter thro ye mist. He was taller than
ye forest. So he spake, saying "Mahongui says--go tell ye people of ye
Panugaga, itt is time for warre--ye corne is gathered--ye deer has
changed his coat--there are no more Hurrons for me to eat. What is a
Panugaga village with no captyves? Ye young men will talk as women doe,
& ye Elders will grow content to watch a snow-bird hopp. Mahongui says
itt is time."
Again att ye council fyre ye spirit dogg strode from ye darkness & said
itt was time. Ye tobacco was bourned by ye Priests. In ye smoke ye
Elders beheld ye Spirit of Mahongui. "Panugaga--Warre."
Soe my father saw ye ghost of ye departed one. He smoked long bye our
cabbin fyre. He sang his battile song. I asked him to goe myself, even
with a hattchett, as I too was Panugaga. Butt he would in no wise
listen. "You are nott meet," he says, "you sayest that your God is
above. How will you make me believe that he is as goode as your black
coats say? They doe lie & you see ye contrary; ffor first of all, ye Sun
bournes us often, ye rain wetts us, ye winde makes us have shipwrake, ye
thunder, ye lightening bournes & kills us, & all comes from above, & you
say that itt is goode to be there.
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