CHAPTER XI. Instead of proceeding to attack the strong loyalist fort at Niagara, General Sullivan recrossed the Genesee on September 16. Lack of provisions, he asserted, was his reason for turning back. Before this, Brandt had frustrated a plot which was a foot among the Indians to desert the British cause. Redjacket, an influential chief of the Seneca's and a very persuasive orator, had suggested that the six nations should negotiate a permanent peace with the colonists. "'What have the English done for us?' he exclaimed, as he pointed in the direction of the Mohawk Valley, that we should become homeless and helpless for their sakes. A considerable following embraced the view of the Seneca chieftain, and it was agreed that a runner should be sent to the camp of General Sullivan to acquaint him with their desire to come to terms. If Sullivan was prepared to negotiate with them, he was to be asked to send his proposals under a flag of truce. These proceedings came to Brandt's knowledge, and whether his act may be justified or not, he adopted probably the only means of preventing a wholesale desertion to the enemy. He chose two of his trustiest warriors and gave them instructions to waylay the bearers of the flag of truce from Sullivan's camp. The bearers were killed, and the proposals of the American commander fell into Brandt's hands, and Redjacket and his party were left to imagine that Sullivan had not been gracious enough even to send them an answer. Not long after the rout of the six nations on the Chemang River and the destruction of their villages, the snow had begun to fall. The winter of 1779 to 1780 was an unusually severe one, and the Indians suffered untold hardships through famine and disease. They were driven to trek in great numbers to the vicinity of the English Fort at Niagara. Brandt was there at this time, and during his sojourn he saw a wedding performed according to the sacred rites of the Anglican church. He had lost his first wife, the mother of Isaac in Christiana, and had married her half-sister Susanna, but she also had died childless, and Brandt had taken to his tent the daughter of a Mohawk chief, whom he now decided to wed after the manner of the white people. His third bride, who was about twenty-one years of age at the time of her marriage, is known in history as Catherine Brandt. She bore Brandt three sons and four daughters, and lived for some years after his death. Her father was the leading sachem of the tortoise clan, and consequently she was able to bestow high rank within the Mohawk nation upon her son, Ayueyes, or John Brandt. The story of Brandt's part in the War of the Revolution from this time on can be related very briefly. Before spring he was again on the war-path and helped to destroy the villages of the Onidas because of their active sympathy for the rebel cause. In the month of April he closed in upon the settlement of Harper's Field and leveled it to the ground. As he was making his way back from the last adventure he was seized with fever and forced to move by slow stages. He allowed his warriors to travel only every other day. There is an anecdote telling how he cured himself of his malady in a very Indian-like manner. Taking his position on the side of a hill, a haunt of rattlesnakes, he waited till one should crawl out to bask in the sun. When at length a snake showed itself he seized it and bore it to his camp. This reptile was cooked in a broth, and Brandt subbed eagerly of the hot decoction, and after partaking of this wonderful remedy, according to the story, he was well again in a very short time. In August of the same year, 1780, Brandt again invaded the Mohawk Valley. On this occasion he gained his object by an artful device. He learned that some stores were being born to Fort Shuler and pretended that he was going to seize them and attack the fort itself. The local militia marched to the fort's defense, and while they were intent on this Brandt doubled back to the rear. Swooping down upon the white settlement at Kennajahori he laid everything low and carried away captive many women and children. Later in the season he made a similar descent into the Skahari Kill, but here there is on record to his credit at least one act of kindness. After the raid a group of settlers were gathered together, telling of all the mishaps that had occurred to them. One sad eyed woman told of the loss of her husband and several of her children. She had been bereft even of an infant which had been torn from its cradle. But that morning while the officers of the colonial camp were seated at their breakfast, a painted redskin sprang into their mitts carrying in his arms a slender child, and handed a letter to the officer in command. It was the woman's child that he bore, and the letter was from Joseph Brandt. Sir, ran the epistle, I send you by one of my runners, the child which he will deliver, that you may know that whatever others do I do not make war upon women and children. I am sorry to say that I have those engaged with me in the service who are more savages than the savages themselves. The year 1781 brought the war to its climax. On October 19th Lord Cornwallis, hard-pressed at Yorktown by an army of sixteen thousand men under Washington, and a powerful French fleet under Admiral de Grasse, was forced to surrender. This was the last important episode before peace was arranged. During the summer the war chief had still been fighting on the border and harassing the country of those who sympathized with the Americans. In August he was found in the West, having defeated a part of Colonel Clark's forces near the Great Miami River, which empties into Lake Erie. The Treaty of Peace between Great Britain and the United States of America was signed in November 1782. Canada, Newfoundland, and what are now the maritime provinces of the Dominion remained in the hands of the Crown, but the independence of the other English colonies in the New World was recognized. In the whole text of the treaty there was not a word about the six nations. But all their lands south of Lake Ontario, as far as the banks of the Hudson, came into the possession of the United States. For some time it seemed as though the Indian sacrifices on behalf of His Majesty the King were to be reckoned as nothing, and the tribesmen who had been loyal were very wroth. They had fought valiantly for the Crown, and now expected that the King should do something for them in return. All that they had to fall back upon was the promise that their rights would be respected when the conflict ended. Now is the time for you to help the King. General Haldeman had said to the assembled Redskins in 1775. The war has commenced. Assist the King now, and you will find it to your advantage. Go now and fight for your possessions, and whatever you lose of your property during the war the King will make up to you when peace returns. Sir Guy Carlton had also assured the Indians that money would be spent to give them the same position after the war that they had occupied before it, and that the government would not be lax in dealing with their needs. In 1779, when General Haldeman was already in command of all the forces in Canada, he had reiterated his promises and said that he would do his best to fulfill them as soon as that happy time the restoration of peace should come. When the war was ended most of the Mohawk Nation were dwelling on the west bank of the Niagara River. They had pitched their wigwams close to the landing-place, now Lewiston, which was some miles above the fort. Their old territory was situated in the heart of the country of their conquerors, and to this they could not return with safety. The Seneca's, who lived nearby, saw how sad was their plight, and offered them land upon which they might reside. The Mohawks appreciated the kindness of this proposal of the war-like nation which had fought by their side in the long struggle, but they could not accept the offer. In the words of Brandt himself they were resolved to sink or swim with the English. To settle the matter the war-chief journeyed down the St. Lawrence to confer with the Canadian leaders. At Quebec he met General Haldeman and was welcomed by this officer with the sincerest friendship and given a chance to discuss the unhappy lot of his homeless people. Haldeman said that he would be quite ready to fulfill the promises that he had made during the war. Brandt replied that his tribesmen would like to settle on English ground and name the region on the Bay of Quinte as a spot suited to their needs. These lands were especially fertile and beautiful, and Haldeman was quite willing that the grant should be made in accordance with their wishes. He said that a tract would soon be purchased and given to the warriors of the six nations. Brandt must have been well accompanied on his journey to the east, since on his way back twenty Indian families turned aside and pitched their bodes in the territory allotted to them on the Bay of Quinte. They were ruled by an Indian named Captain John, and a thriving Mohawk settlement was thus begun. Brandt continued his journey along the south side of Lake Ontario and came once again to Niagara. But when the war-chief told the waiting reskins of his negotiations with General Haldeman there was a great outcry of dissatisfaction. The Seneca's, who were the chief objectors, stated that they could not allow their kinsmen and old comrades in arms to go so far away from them as the Bay of Quinte. The Seneca's were still afraid that they might have difficulties with the people of the United States, in whose country they were dwelling. The Mohawks must be near at hand to come to their rescue should the hatchet again be upraised. Brandt felt very keenly for the Seneca's, who had done him such yeoman service in the war. They could be cruel in combat but were very loyal to their friends, and he knew that something must be done for them. Accordingly he repaired a second time to Quebec and again discussed the situation with General Haldeman. The outcome was that he obtained another grant of land on the Grand River, which runs with a southerly course unto the waters of Lake Erie. A tract six miles wide on each side of this stream, extending from its source to its mouth, was allotted to the six nations. This beautiful district, bordering on the shore of Lake Erie, only forty miles from the outer fringe of the Seneca villages, was in a direct line of intercourse between the six nations and the many tribes of the West and the upper lakes. Brandt obtained the title deeds to this territory for the Indians in the autumn of 1784, under the seal of Royal Authority. It was a gift, as indicated by the terms of the award, which the Mohawks and others of the six nations with their posterity were to enjoy forever. Having been provided with a new home, a 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 swartherer in the summer sun. They did not care 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. Downstream 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 beach, 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 stalk, unrivaled 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 fairing 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 Stanwyx, but the western tribes were not invited to come. While this was taking place, Red Jacket, the Seneca orator, rose in the company of its fellows and uttered a speech burning with eloquence. His attitude towards the Americans had undergone a change since Brandt had undone his treachery before the war closed. The six nations should renew the contest, said Red Jacket. Never should they submit to the yoke of their oppressors. On the other hand, Chief Cornplanter, with sounder judgment, argued for peace. It would surely be an unwise thing for the Indians to enter upon a fresh war single-handed, and without the assistance of their former allies, the English. At length Cornplanter had his way, and on October 22 a treaty was made with the representatives of the United States. By this treaty the Indians were to give up all the prisoners of war still in their hands. Until this was done, six hostages were to be furnished from among their number. At the same time the boundaries of the country over which they held sway were defined. Loud murmurs of complaint arose within the six nations on the completion of this pact, and no one was more angry than Joseph Brandt himself. He was at Quebec, on the point of leaving for England, but he hurried back on learning the terms of the treaty. He was especially exasperated because Aaron Hill, one of the lesser chiefs of the Mohawks, was to be given up as a hostage. Having at Kateraqui, Brandt, on November 27, sent a long and stirring letter to Colonel Monroe. In this he showed that his Indians were in no way to blame for the retention of prisoners of war. The fight was over, and the six nations wanted harmony restored. With considerable feeling he referred to the customs and manners of the Mohawks. They are always active and true, he protested, no double faces at war or any other business. The difficulty was quickly rided and the war chief satisfied, but he saw that all the Indian races were in a precarious position and might, sooner or later, be drawn into hostilities. Meanwhile, he was meditating a scheme which might be likened to the bold conception of Pontiac. In vision he saw all the Indian tribes united into one far-reaching confederacy for the assertion of their liberties. Brandt was of a singularly ambitious disposition, and had no humble idea of his own capacities. He pictured himself as the chosen head of such a vast league of the native races. It was with this in view that at this very time he paid a visit to the western tribes and sought to ascertain their ideas upon the subject. At the close of 1785 Brandt was ready to make his second journey across the Atlantic. It was indeed fitting, after his years of active service for the Crown, that he should do homage once more at the English court. He desired also to plead the cause of his Mohawks, who had lost so much in the struggle. It is even likely that he was pondering over his design of uniting all the tribes and wish to disclose this scheme to the home authorities. A striking sketch of the war chief's appearance during this period is given by the Baroness Ritticell. This talented lady, who had met the Mohawk chief at Quebec, was the wife of the noted general who led a troop of Hessians in the War of the Revolution. I saw at this time, she writes, the famous Indian chief, Captain Brandt. His manners are polished. He expressed himself with fluency, and was much esteemed by General Haldeman. This strenuous scenes through which Brandt had lived indeed seemed to have left but little impression on his face. I dined once with him at the generals, continued the Baroness. In his dress he showed off to advantage the half-military and half-savage costume. His countenance was manly and intelligent, and his disposition very mild. On his arrival in London for the second time, Brandt received a welcome even exceeding that which was given him on his first visit. He was lauded as King of the Red Men and Lord of the Boundless Forest. In the houses of the most illustrious people in the realm he was given a place of high honour. One of those who took the light in Brandt's company was Lord Percy, heir to the dukedom of Northumberland. Lord Percy had served in America and had been adopted, according to Indian custom, into one of the tribes of the Six Nations, and was called in its language the Evergreen Brake. Charles James Fox, the statesman, was also among the admirers of the war chief. Fox caused a beautiful silver snuffbox to be sent to Brandt, engraved with his initials. The Prince of Wales was attracted by the chieftain and took Brandt with him on many of his jaunts about the capital. Brandt was amazed at some of the places to which his royal conductor resorted. At the royal palace he was warmly greeted by King George and Queen Charlotte, and held in high esteem. His official visit to their majesties was marked by a somewhat uncommon incident. As a dutiful subject it was in keeping with tradition that he should kiss the King's hand, but this he refused to do. The war chief could not bend, even before the greatest of potentates. Turning to the Queen, however, after the fashion of Cavalier, Brandt said that he would be only too pleased to kiss her hand. George III did not seem in the least annoyed. He appeared rather to be delighted at this courtesy shown his Queen, and so the affair passed happily. One humorous episode which happened during Brandt's stay in London caused quite a sensation. Through the good graces of Earl Moira he was invited to attend a masquerade ball in Mayfair. It was to be a festive event, and people of distinguished rank were expected to be present. Brandt did not go to any pains to deck himself out artfully for the occasion, but was attired only in the costume of his tribe. To change his appearance he painted a portion of his face, and arrived in the skies of the place of entertainment. As he entered the gay ballroom his lofty plumage swayed grandly and a glittering tomahawk shown from his girdle. The scene that met his eyes was resplendent with life and beauty. Masked figures were flitting by, clad in every imaginable garb. Here was a sleek-faced friar, rotund and pretty. There a gypsy maid, or mild-eyed shepherdess with her stave. Lonely hermits and whimsical gestures, cackling witches, and members of a pilgrim band, all thronged together with laugh or grimace, adding their own peculiar luster to the brilliant assembly. By and by a turk came strolling down the floor. He was a diplomat of high degree, and two nymphs from the paradise of Islam hovered near at hand. Suddenly the turk caught sight of the painted features of the sturdy redskin. He stopped, and fixed the Indian with his gaze. Here, he thought, was the chance for a bit of frolic. In a moment he had lost his stately demeanor and lurched jocularly towards the warrior. He reached for the Indian's face, thinking it was screened with parchment. The next instant he had tweaked the nose of the great chief of the six nations. Above the confusing medley of sounds burst the wild accents of the blood-freezing war-whoop. On the instant Brant's tomahawk was forth from his girdle, and was whirling about the head of the astonished defender. Never had such a cry been heard within the walls of fashion. Faces turned ashen pale and screams resounded through the spacious mansion. Helter Skelter in every direction fled the terrified masqueraders. The Muslim thought that his last hour on earth had come. Then Brant's arm fell, his tense features relaxed, and he had become once more the genial captain of the Mohawks. According to his own declaration, which may or may not have been exactly true, he only intended a playful contribution to the pleasures of the evening. The Turk was calmed, and the frightened company came slowly streaming back. Everything was explained, and Brant became a greater hero than ever before. Yet it is hardly likely that the pompous follower of Islam ever forgot the lively scene which his rashness had produced. Notwithstanding the gay round of entertainment in which he joined, Brant had been attending to the business matters that had brought him to England. He had sent a letter relative to the affairs of the six nations to Lord Sidney, the Secretary of State for Colonial Affairs, and he delivered a speech upon the same topic at Sidney's presence. He told him of the losses sustained by the Indians and hoped that a speedy settlement would be made with them by the British government. On my mentioning these matters, since my arrival in England, wrote Brant, I am informed that orders are given that this shall be done, which will give great relief and satisfaction to those faithful Indians, who will have spirit to go on, and their hearts will be filled with kindness for the king, their father's kindness. Just before leaving for America, Brant received a letter from Lord Sidney saying that King George desired that the red men should receive justice. His Majesty, said Sidney, in consideration of the zealous and hearty exertions of his Indian allies in support of his cause, and as a proof of his friendly disposition toward them, has been graciously pleased to consent that the losses already certified by the Superintendent-General shall be made good. CHAPTER XIII When Brant appeared again in the open councils of his people, he found the red men still in a fretful mood. The Treaty of Fort Stanwyx was a source of constant aggravation to them. The white settlers were pressing over their frontiers so boldly that the Indians felt that their lands must sooner or later slip from their grasp. England feared an outbreak of war, and the Indians believed that in such a case she would aid them. A proof of this was the manner in which she was keeping garrisons in the western posts which she had agreed to surrender. It is now conceded that this was done because the United States had failed to live up to its pledges. Be that as it may, Joseph Brant was expected in case of hostilities to organize the strong League of Native Races that he had planned to form. In November 1786 a great council of Indian tribes was held at Huron Village, on the Detroit River. This was well attended, and its deliberations were very grave. An address, probably written by Brant, was sent by order of the assembled Indians to the Congress of the United States. Peace was desired, but it would be necessary for the congressional representatives to treat with the Redskins as a whole. Difficulties had been engendered because the United States had entered into negotiations with separate tribes, kindled councilfires wherever it saw fit, without ever daining to consult the Indians as a whole. This, affirmed the address, must happen no longer. During the next few years the warchief was unsparing in his efforts to come to some solution of the problem which the attitude of the United States had presented. He was quite aware that there was not enough concerted action among the various tribes. In his efforts to unite them he was aided and supported in all that he did by the English officials. But try as Brant might, it seemed impossible to arrive at that wide union among the tribes at which he was aiming. On every hand were differences of opinion in petty jealousies. In 1789 General Sinclair, indeed, was able to make two separate treaties with the Indians, much to the delight of the government at Philadelphia. I am persuaded, Sinclair wrote confidently, that their general confederacy is entirely broken. Indeed it would not be very difficult, if circumstances required it, to set them at deadly barrens. But though unwilling to unite, it was with jealous and angry eyes that they watched the white men cross the Ohio. The year 1790 found the western tribes ablaze with passion and again on the war-path against the United States. The Shawnees, Patuatomies, and Miami's were the leaders of the revolt. An expedition under General Harmer marched against them, but it was defeated with great loss. The six nations were the next in arms, and fell without mercy on the settlements by the Allegheny River. The horizon was now dark, and it seemed as though a widespread struggle with the Indians was certain to occur. While the British authorities trusted implicitly in Joseph Brant, the executive of the United States was also trying to win his confidence. Both sides clearly recognized that the future of the red men depended largely on the policy that Brant should adopt. To have two great nations, each striving to enlist one's services, is a fair indication that the possession of those services will give either nation a distinct advantage. Brant did not lack vanity, and on this occasion he was more than flattered. But to do justice to Brant, it must be admitted that all the time he had been in favor of peace. He did not wish the tribes to go madly into an unequal contest when there was very slight hope of success, and yet he was strongly of the opinion that his people must not bow too readily to the avarice of the pale face. The Ohio River should be the dividing line between the Indian territories in the West and those of the Republic, and by this they must stand or fall. The government of the United States at length concluded that neither Brant nor the tribes would listen to its terms and that war was inevitable. It determined to carry the fight vigorously into the very strongholds of the Western tribes. General Sinclair was chosen for this purpose, and he was given a large force to deal with a certain unrest which had developed in the country of the Miami's. What the warchief had feared was now about to happen. His hatchet was dull and rested, and he had grown unused to the strain and hazard of the war path. But could he hold aloof? The long knives were moving against the lodges of his brethren in the West, and so he bent his ear once more to hear the warriors' call. Sinclair set out from Fort Washington in September, 1791, and proceeded in the direction of the Miami villages to the Southwest of Lake Geary. As he advanced he found himself worried by bands of redskins who hung upon his line of march. By November 3rd, however, he had come within 15 miles of the Indian villages. When he pitched his camp his army of militiamen and regulars numbered about fourteen hundred men all told. The Indians were also fairly numerous, and were under the guidance of little Turtle, a brave chief of the Miami's. Though drawn from various nations their hearts were knit together by the peril which confronted them. Within their ranks were a hundred and fifty stalwarts of the Mohawk tribe, as well as a number of white men and half-breeds from Canada, who had come to their assistance. When the fight began the Mohogs were seen to do the bidding of a tall and agile chieftain. Though little Turtle was the nominal leader it is conceited that the main antagonist whom Sinclair had pitted against him in this engagement was Joseph Brandt. Having sent his militiamen on in advance the American general had bivouacked with the regulars by the side of a small stream which ran into the Wabash. Just before daybreak on November 4th the raw militiamen found themselves suddenly attacked by a force of redskins. The Americans, who were about a quarter of a mile from the principal camp, turned and fled in confusion. This was what the Indians desired. So hotly did the militiamen retreat towards the camp that Sinclair's main force was almost carried off its feet. A rally was made, but the Indians dashed forward with swiftness and daring. Following on the heels of the fleeing militiamen they were soon at the very edge of the encampment. There they began to pick off the American gunners one by one. In a short time Sinclair's invading army was hemmed in on every side and many of his officers had fallen. Charge after charge was made by his men, but all to no avail. At length he saw that the day was lost and gave orders for retreat, hoping to save what was left of his force. A weak spot was found in the redskins' line and a remnant of Sinclair's proud army went free, scurrying off in wild precipitation to Fort Jefferson, thirty miles away. The ground was thickly strewn with their dead. It has been computed that in this battle eight hundred of Sinclair's force were killed or wounded. This disaster in the country of the Miami's showed the United States how hard it would be to break the spirit of the redmen. War having affected nothing it was again decided to resort to entreaty. A number of chiefs of different tribes were invited to go to Philadelphia and among them was Captain Brandt. I can assure you, wrote the Secretary of State in the Federal Government to Brandt on February 2, 1792, that the President of the United States will be highly gratified by receiving and conversing with a chief of such eminence as you are on a subject so interesting and important to the human race. After some persuasion Brandt consented to go and, proceeding on horseback by way of the Mohawk Valley, he arrived at the capital city on June 20. There he was gladly welcomed, and every effort was made to win him for the United States. I was offered a thousand guineas down, wrote the War Chief at a later time, and to have the half-paying pension I received from Great Britain doubled, merely on condition that I would use my endeavors to bring about a peace. But this I rejected. The American authorities then held out an even more tempting bait. They would give him preemption rights over land estimated to be worth twenty thousand pounds and an annual allowance of fifteen hundred dollars. But Brandt said vastly refused, and his reason was very plain. How could he accept such a bribe? They might expect me, he said, to act contrary to his Majesty's interest and the honor of our nations. He did, however, promise that he would urge the Miami's to come to terms with the United States, and that he would go to them for that purpose. As he was on his way home from Philadelphia he found that a Dutch-American named Diggert was pursuing him with the intention of making an attempt upon his life. In New York, while he was talking to several officers at his lodgings in Broadway, he happened to peer out, and saw a man in the street below with his eyes intently fixed on the window of his room. There is Diggert now, he cried. Colonel Willette, one of the officers, went down and accused the man of basely plotting Brandt's assassination.  Who, said Diggert in surprise, would hang me for killing an Indian? You will see, answered Willette, if you execute your purpose you may depend upon it that you will be hanged up immediately. At this the would-be criminal went off and did not trouble the war chief any more. On his safe return to Canada Brandt was taken ill and was not able to attend a grand council held in the autumn at O'Glaze, on the Great Miami. When the council met it was agreed that hostilities should be suspended until a fresh council should be held at Miami Rapids. During the winter of 1792 to 93 Brandt received a visit from Simcoe, Lieutenant Governor of Upper Canada, at his home on Grand River. This officer, who had lately been installed at Niagara, carried a letter to the war chief from his old friend Lord Percy, now the Duke of Northumberland, together with a brace of pistols that the Duke had sent to him. Simcoe was on his way to Detroit by sled, and stopped for three days at the Mohawk Village. A feud de joie was fired in his honor, flags were hoisted, and the Indians made a display of their trophies of war. Brandt and some of the Redskins accompanied the Lieutenant Governor as far as the Thames River, where was situated the village of the Delaware's. Here the war chief was forced to return. Soon afterwards his Excellency again halted at Grand River on his way back. The Indians entertained him in royal style, performing the kalamet dance, the feather dance, and several other dances of their tribe. In the middle of the summer of 1793 a great assembly of Indians took place at Miami Rapids. Commissioners who were sent to represent the United States were not allowed to approach the place of meeting. Brandt made three speeches, urging upon the Indians the advisability of peace. But the Redmen were still headstrong, and the commissioners had to go away without having received any understanding with them. The end of the struggle, however, was coming fast. In 1794 General Wayne marched to the neighborhood of Fort Miami with a numerous force, defeated the Indians at the fallen timbers, and drove them before him in all directions. Crestfallen and Hartzor they saw that the day of the white man had come at last. Brandt stood by as their helper to the very end, but it availed them little. The black snake, as they called General Wayne, had beaten them, and they knew he would beat them again. The tribesmen who had come from the far west withdrew sullenly across the Mississippi. The other races submitted, and the Treaty of Greenville was signed with General Wayne on August 3, 1795. The ox cart began to rumble north of the Ohio. The tall forest fell before the settler's axe, and the Redman lived and walked no more alone by the river beautiful. End of CHAPTER XIII. CHAPTER XIV OF THE WAR-CHIEF OF THE SIX NATIONS This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Sarah Jennings. THE WAR-CHIEF OF THE SIX NATIONS By Louis Aubrey Wood CHAPTER XIV THE CHURCH BELL RINGS Joseph Brandt had been a valiant warrior. He had dealt with the affairs of the six nations wisely and well. But he had never forgotten that one of the first duties of any ruler is to be in some sense a priest unto his people. From a lad he seems to have been a devoted Christian. The alarms of war had drawn his mind for a period it is true to worldly considerations alone, but now that strife had ceased he became once more the friend of the missionary and sought to supply the spiritual needs of the tribes over which his influence was felt. Like every Indian the wonderful things which Brandt saw all about him in nature held his mind in a spell. To him there was one who had created all things, and who was ever ready and willing to sustain his children. On one occasion in council Brandt spoke of the primitive freedom of the Indian people, and then exclaimed, This country was given to us by the great spirit above. We wish to enjoy it. He went on to tell how the Indians had tried to get peace, how their efforts had failed, and how their patience was now all gone. Yet there was one covert in which they might find shelter in time of storm. We therefore throw ourselves, was his final utterance, under the protection of the great spirit above, who we hope will order all things for the best. While Brandt was on his second visit to England, the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts asked his help in getting out their printed books for the Indians. He willingly assented, and soon had a new edition of the Prayer and Psalm book in preparation. He translated also the Gospel of St. Mark. The Prayer and Psalm book and his translation of the Gospel of St. Mark were issued as one book. The publication of this volume must have brought a feeling of pride to the breast of the Mohawk chief. The book was a work of art, well printed and with some fine engravings. The frontispiece depicted the inside of a chapel in which the king and queen were standing with a bishop on each side of them. The monarch and his consort were handing out sacred books to the Indians, who were clustered about in an expectant attitude. A few years later, Brandt translated into the Mohawk tongue the liturgy of the Anglican church, as well as a doctrinal primer. Copies of these were sent to Harvard University, and its corporation replied with a cordial vote of thanks to the war chief for his gift. Brandt also planned to write a comprehensive history of the Six Nations, but unfortunately this work seems never to have been commenced. Hardly had the Mohawks settled at Grand River when they began to feel that they should have a church building in which to worship. The funds were gathered, and as early as 1785 they were laying the foundations of a suitable edifice. This building, which was reared in the depths of the forest about two miles from the center of what is now the city of Brandtford, generally went by the name of the old Mohawk church. In 1904, on a petition to the king, it was given the title of His Majesty's Chapel of the Mohawks. Thus was restored the name of the church in which the Indians were want to worship in the Mohawk valley. Since its square tower, quaint slender steeple, and the graves of bygone generations of red men who have worshipped in it gathered about its walls, it is a venerable reminder of the past. The Bible which was first used in the old Mohawk church was a gift from Queen Anne to the tribesmen in 1712 and was brought to Grand River from their former home on the Mohawk. The silver communion plate was part of a service which had also been presented to them by the same queen before they came to Canada. It was of burnished silver and bore the royal coat of arms. The remaining pieces of this set were given to the Indians who settled in the Bay of Quinty district. In the year 1786, they were sent to the church a large and melodious bell. This was a presentation from the British government, and on it was stamped the arms of the reigning house of Hanover. In all the wide region later known as the province of Upper Canada, as yet no other Protestant sanctuary had opened its doors for the use of Christian believers. With the erection of this temple of the Mohawks begins the history of the Protestant churches and one of the fairest sections of the Dominion of Canada. It was a sweet and solemn bell that peeled out its message when service was held on those Sabbaths and pioneer days. Into the solitudes it rang, wakening the stillness, echoing to hilltop and throbbing down to distant valley. Up and along the river stole the gladsome strain, the first call to prayer ever heard in this scarcely broken wilderness. Some among the trees emerged the exiled people of the long house. They mingled together, they entered the courts of the great spirit, silent and full of awe. There they listened to the gospel story and burst forth into many happy songs of thanksgiving and of love. Brand was very desirous of securing a missionary who would suit the tastes of all. He tried to get a resident missionary in the person of his friend Davenport Phelps, but the bishop of Quebec refused Phelps ordination. And it was not until 1822 when the New England Company took over the missionary work on the Mohawk Reserve that the Indians of Grand River had a resident pastor. Brandt also had one from General Haldeman a promise that a school should be built for the education of the Indian children, and that a flour mill should be erected for the grinding of corn. Brandt was deeply interested also in the native amusements of the people of the long house. He seems to have retained a boyish heart in the later years of his life, and he saw with pleasure the sports and pastimes of the Indian youth. Hour after hour he would sit as an honoured spectator watching them play a hard-fought game of lacrosse that required fleetness of foot and straightness of limb. An eyewitness who sat with Brandt at one of these games has told of the excitement which the match aroused. On this occasion a great company of Seneca's had come all the way from New York State in order to compete for the mastery with their kinsmen, the Mohawks. The contest lasted for three days before the Seneca's finally won the valuable stakes which were offered as the prize. The field which was cleared for the game was fairly extensive, with goals being placed about 500 feet apart. The teams had 60 men aside. When anyone dropped out from either party another was supposed to take his place, and so the energies of the contestants did not flag. The netted rackets employed in the game of lacrosse were three and a half feet in length, straight at the handle but curved at the other end. The broad portion used for throwing or carrying the ball was formed of thongs of deerskin, afterwoven and drawn firm and tight. It was a picturesque sight when the opposing teams were ready to play. The animated warriors were nude except for a breechcloth reaching to the knee. When all was in readiness an Indian maiden came tripping into the center of the field. She was prettily attired after the custom of her tribe, wore bracelets of silver and a red tiara decked with eagle feathers. Placing the ball among the players she hurried from the field of play. Two experts from the rival parties then raised the ball between their rackets and strove to make the first successful throw. The great game had now begun, and each time the ball went through a goal it counted one tally. The scorekeepers, who were chosen from the older sachums of the tribes, were invested with peculiar powers. If one team was making far less tallies than its opponent, they could diminish its rival's score without the player's knowledge, however, in order that the contest might be protracted. Games of this vigorous kind have made the athletes of the six nations noted in both Canada and the United States down to the present day. Six Nations by Lewis Aubrey Wood Chapter 15 The Pine Tree Totters It came to pass before long that the Indians wished to dispose of some of the land granted to them on Grand River. The United Empire loyalists and others, lured by the prospect of cheap land, kept crossing into Canada from the United States. Accessions to the population of the Great Lakes region had come by immigration from the British Isles. And the country was making forward strides. Struggling settlers and speculators were often anxious to purchase land in the richer districts when they could get it at a low price. It happened, however, that after the Redskins had sold at least bits of their territory to such persons, the provincial government began to interfere. The land it said belonged to the Indians only so long as they remained upon it. They could not, therefore, sell any of it as they had no direct ownership of the soil. This decision shed a new light upon the propriety rights of the Six Nations in Canada and the Indians were sorely perplexed. All along they thought that they held their lands like other settlers who had proved their loyalty. Brand vigorously took up their case, made several able speeches on their behalf, and freely corresponded with the authorities of the province regarding the matter. In 1793 Governor Simcoe issued a new proclamation respecting the grant, but this did not end the dispute. The province still claimed the right of preemption with respect to the whole of their reserve. Later on the matter was carried to England, and the British government tended to favour the Indians' claims, but nothing was done owing to contentions among the Redskins themselves. It was only, indeed, after Brand's death that the affair was finally settled. The sale of large tracts of Indian land was then authorised, and the money received was safely invested for the benefit of the Mohawks and others of the Six Nations in Canada. In connection with this difficult question Brand had intended making a trip to England, but was forced to abandon the idea. During the latter part of his life Brand visited different parts of America and twice journeyed as far as Atlantic seaboard. On these occasions he had the opportunity of talking over old campaigns with officers who had fought against him in the war, and he delighted his listeners with stirring stories of his experiences in the field. On one occasion, when in Philadelphia, he was entertained in sumptuous fashion by Colonel Aaron Burr. A dinner party was held in his honour, and among the guests were Tally Rand and Volney. Early in the evening the warchief was rather tack-turned, and the other guests were somewhat disappointed, but this was only a passing mood from which Brandt soon freed himself. Launching into the conversation he was soon the centre of attraction. Though Captain Brandt was able to pass his later years in comparative ease, his life was marred by the occurrence of two untoward events. His eldest son Isaac was a reprobate over whom the father exercised little influence. Isaac had been guilty of acts of violence and had begun to threaten Joseph Brandt himself. He was jealous of the numerous children of Catherine Brandt and took occasion to offer her various insults. In 1795, both father and son were at Burlington Heights at a time when the Indians were receiving supplies from the provincial government. Isaac, crazed with liquor, tried to assault his father in one of the lower rooms of an inn, but was held in check by several of his youthful companions. Captain Brandt drew a dirk which he usually carried with him and, in the excitement of the moment, inflicted a slight wound on Isaac's hand. The cut was not serious, but Isaac would not allow it to be properly treated and subsequently died from an attack of brain fever. The warchief was slowly grieved at the result of his hasty action and fretted about it until the end of his days. He is said to have hung the dirk up in his room and to have often wept as he gazed upon it. The other source of trouble to Brandt was the revolt against his rule of a small minority among the tribes. This movement was led by Brandt's old adversary, Redjacket, and another chief, the farmer's brother. A council was held by the dissenters at Buffalo Creek in 1803 and Joseph Brandt was formally deposed as head of the Confederacy of the Six Nations. But as this meeting had not been legally convoked, its decisions were of no validity among the nations. The following year, at another council, legitimately assembled, the tribesmen openly declared their confidence in the warchief's rule. Because of Brandt's many services to the crown, the British government gave him a fine stretch of land on the northwest shore of Lake Ontario near the entrance to Burlington Bay.  A number of black slaves whom he had captured in the war were his servants and gave him every attention. Brandt is said to have subjected these negroes to a rigid discipline and to have been more or less of a taskmaster in his treatment of them. In his declining years, he was want to gaze over the waters of Lake Ontario, remembering the country stretching from the southern shore where once he had struggled and the valley of the Mohawk where had been the lodges of his people. But the giant pine tree of the forest was now beginning to bend. Tall and erect, it had out-topped and out-rivaled every other tree of the woodland. Men knew that the pine tree was tottering. In the autumn of 1807, the captain of the six nations was in the grip of a serious illness. Friends and neighbors came to bring solace and comfort, for he was widely revered. Racked with pain but uncomplaining, he passed a few weary hours of life which were left. On November 24, 1807, the long trail came to an end. Close by Brandt's bedside, John Norton, footnote, Norton was a Scotsman who, coming to Canada early in life, settled among the Mohawks and won a chief's rank among them. He played an important part in the war of 1812. End footnote. John Norton, a chieftain of his tribe, leaned to catch the last faltering word. Have pity on the poor Indians, whispered the dying war chief. If you can get any influence with the great, endeavor to do them all the good you can. The body of Captain Brandt was taken to Grand River and buried beside the walls of the church he had helped to rear. In the centre of the busy city of Brandtford, whose name, as well as that of the county, commemorates his, stands a beautiful monument, picturesque and massive, to his worth and valor. In the hearts of the people of Canada he is enshrined as a loyal subject, a man of noble action and a dauntless hero. Sell them in the annals of Canada, do he find a character so many-sided as the captain of the Mohawks? He was a child of nature, and she endowed him with many gifts, a stout and hearty frame, a deportment pleasing and attractive, and an eloquent tongue. It was these natural endowments that gave him endurance in the conflict, preeminence in council, and that won for him the admiration of his contemporaries. The education which Brandt received was meager, but he could hardly have put what knowledge he had to better advantage. After he had been relieved from the arduous life of the camp, he had begun to satisfy again his desires for self-culture. His correspondence toward the clothes of his life showed a marked improvement in style over that of his earlier years. There was no lack of convincing evidence that Brandt had a penetrating and well-balanced intellect, but his chief glory is the constant efforts he put forth for the moral and religious uplift of his people. With respect to Brandt's abilities as a military leader, there will continue to exist differences of opinion, that he possessed the craftiness of his race in a superlative degree, and that he used this to baffle his opponents on the field of battle cannot be denied. Some will go further and assert that he had a remarkable genius in the art of stratagem. Whatever powers he had he used from his boyhood days in the interest of British rule in America and the services rendered by this last great leader of the Six Nations in the War of the Revolution were not among the least of the influences that enabled Great Britain to maintain a foothold on the North American continent. Joseph Brandt, in the War of the Revolution and his descendants in the War of 1812, played essential parts in firmly basing British institutions and British rule in Canada. End of Chapter 15 Recording by David Lawrence January 24, 2009 in Brampton, Ontario End of the War Chief of the Six...


Now, as gunshots echo across the windswept snow-covered reaches of the Wild Northwest, Quaker-puffed wheat and Quaker-puffed rice, the breakfast cereal shot from guns, present the challenge of the Yukon. It's Yukon King, swiftest and strongest lead dog of the Northwest, blazing the trail for Sergeant Preston of the Northwest Mounted Police, in his relentless pursuit of lawbreakers. And King, on you, Huskies! Gold, gold discovered in the Yukon, a stampede to the Klondike in the wild race for riches. Back to the days of the Gold Rush, with Quaker-puffed wheat and Quaker-puffed rice, bringing you the adventures of Sergeant Preston and his Wonder Dog Yukon King, as they meet the challenge of the Yukon. Stop! Look and listen! Here's a super idea for your breakfast tomorrow morning. First, pour out a heaping bowlful of delicious, crisp, nourishing Quaker-puffed wheat or Quaker-puffed rice. Then cover it with good, thick, rich yellow cream. Top it with chilled fruit. And the very sight of it makes your mouth water for a taste. Take a big spoonful.  So get ready. Get super delicious, nourishing, Quaker-puffed wheat and Quaker-puffed rice right away. The wind and snow had increased in intensity since Sergeant Preston of the Northwest Mounted Police had left Dawson City for the town of Forty Mile. The Great Dog King, running ahead as a loose lead, was finding it more difficult as time went on to break through the large snowdrifts that piled up across the trail. And King, on you, Husky! Preston urged the dog team onward with the idea of keeping them in motion. He knew the dogs were tired and he himself was weary from the constant struggle against the tearing, forceful wind and the hard, steaming snow. But to stop, even for a short time, might prove to be fatal in a blizzard of such intensity. Preston saw King up ahead stop and look back before plunging through another huge snowdrift. Preston called a momentary halt. Oh, there! Oh, you, Husky! King, fella, we have to go on. The storm gets much worse, we may never get to Forty Mile. Let's get moving, King. Put him away, fella. All right, on, King! On, you, Husky! Several hours later, Sergeant Preston arrived in Forty Mile. And after seeing that his dog team were taken care of, he went to the constable's office with King at his side.  The stuff going there, believe me. But it was. Sit down, you must be tired. Oh, thanks. Well, I'll King to break the way. I'd be marooned somewhere in a snowdrift. No, I'm surprised you got through even with King to lead you. That storm's pretty bad, Sergeant. Well, Nat, let's get to the point. You sent an Indian runner to headquarters in Dawson asking me to come up here to help on a murder case. That's right, Sergeant. I figured it must be mighty important to have you sent for help. There are two important reasons, at least, Sergeant. First, because of a leg injury, I can't trail the murder. Oh. And second, the man whom we believe to be guilty is Tom Jenkins. Tom Jenkins? You sure? Reasonably sure. That's hard to believe. Tom's always been a quiet, hard-working fella. Yes, I know. Who was the victim? Jake, the storekeeper. What? Well, I got Jake to give Jenkins credit a couple of months ago. Now, remember, Jake told Jenkins at that time that he'd expect payment in two months. And Tom Jenkins was doing all right at this claim. I felt sure he'd be able to pay in that time. That's true. But it seems Tom came to town and told Jake his cabin had been ransacked and that what gold he had was stolen from him. Tom reported the robbery to me that day, and I went to investigate. But there were no clues to be found. I see. Go on. Well, the next day, which was a week ago, Tom went into the store and Jake accused him of lying about being robbed as an excuse not to pay. Jake always thought people were trying to cheat him. Yes, he was a hard man to deal with. Well, it doesn't seem possible that he'd kill Jake for accusing him of lying. Tom didn't seem to be the quick-tempered type of man to me. He wasn't, Sergeant. A few men were lounging in the store at the time. I questioned them to find out just what took place. Seems that Tom Jenkins went to the store after he'd taken me out to investigate the robbery of his cabin. Hi, Jenkins. Hello, Tom. Hi, Dave. Jake, the constable went out to my cabin with me, and I'm sorry to say he couldn't find any clues that might help get back that stolen gold. Now, see here, Tom Jenkins. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that you just made up that story about being robbed so as to put out paying me what you owe. That kind of talk doesn't set well with me, Jake. I told the truth about that gold being stolen, and because of it, I can't pay right now. But you'll get paid later when I get more. Well, I've been taken in before by young fellas like you, Jenkins, who kept putting me off with trumped-up excuses until finally they just lit out from 40 miles and left me holding the bag. Well, you needn't worry about me doing that. When I say you'll get paid, you can con on it. You never does take time. I don't have to take your word for it, Jenkins. And what's more, I won't have to wait either. Just what do you mean by that? I'll tell you what I mean. I'm going to that lawyer fella here in town and get him to find legal means to take that claim he owes to cover that debt. Jake, that claim is all I have, and you know it's a good paying claim.  How is that so? Yes, that's so. You either get the money and pay me by tonight or I'll stop proceedings to take over your claim, Jenkins. And once more, there won't be anything that you can do about it. Jake, I can't get the money by tonight. I'm warning you to give up that idea of taking my claim or you'll be mighty sorry, understand? That's all I got to say. Now, I better get out of here before I lose my temper. Then after making that threat, Tom Jenkins walked out of the store. What about the killing and outside of the threat he made? What points to Tom as the killing? All Jake was killed that night in his quarters in back of the store, and the store safe was robbed. But what about Tom? Well, I don't know. But what about Tom? Well, I went over to Bear Creek Trail that afternoon. It snowed pretty heavily that night, continuing until noon the next day. I waited at Bear Creek until the snow stopped. Then I came back here getting here about suppertime. It was then I learned of the murder. And there were mutterings in town about Tom. Because of the threat he'd made? Yes. I went to Jake's place and looked things over. The killer had gotten Jake to let him in somehow. Then I figured he left by the back door, which was unbolted when I looked it over. I opened it and looked out the back. But the heavy snowfall had smoothed everything over. There were no tracks or marks there. I still don't see where Tom fits into this, Ned. I'm coming to that. I went to the cafe to question everyone. I knew most of the townsmen would be there. I'm sure glad you're back in town, Constable. We're all anxious to see you get the lowdown sneak and shot and rob poor old Jake last night. I've just come from Jake's place. I have some questions to ask you. Go ahead, Constable. Sure. What do you want to know? What's the latest anyone saw Jake alive last night? Dave Baxter can tell you most of what you want to know. Him and Rusty Jackson were in the store at Cousin Time with some of us. And the two of them were the ones that discovered the killer. That's right. All right, Dave. What about it? Well, several of us were in the store when Jake said he wanted to lock up. So we all left and came here to the cafe.  No. We all went out. Jake turned the lock behind us. And that was about 10 o'clock last night. Yes, sir. A little before midnight, Rusty and I started for our cabin. As we passed Jake's store, we noticed a lamp was lighted in the back room. The light was shining through a big crack in the window shutter. Go on, then what? We figured since he was still awake, he might open up and give us some chewing tobacco. So we banged on the front door. Jake will always open up if he's awake like that. Yeah. I guess that's how the killer got in. When Jake didn't answer, we went around to the back. And we knocked there. And I tried the back door. It was unboldened and open when I pressed the latch. Right away, Rusty and I saw Jake lying on the floor. We ran right back here because we knew the doctor was here and that you were out of town. Yeah. I got the doctor's report as soon as I got back. I hate to tell you this, Constable, but Tom Jenkins threatened Jake yesterday morning. Several of us here heard him do it. Jenkins must have done it. Yeah. He could have slipped away from here without anyone noticing. So could any one of you men for that matter. I'll question Tom Jenkins, of course, but... Here comes Rusty. Yeah. He seems excited, too. Constable, I found something that might be just a clue you're looking for. What have you found, Rusty? This glove. It was at the foot of the back steps of Jake's place. Hmm. When did you find this? Just a short time ago. The doctor said you were in town and might want to ask me some questions. I went to Jake's thinking you might still be there. Strange. I didn't find this glove a while ago. You went in the front way, Constable. You just looked out the back door. You didn't search. If I was at the foot of the steps, it was probably out of sight from the doorway. Oh, look, Constable. You won't have to go far to find who owns that glove, either. Oh? How do you know? Go on. Tell them, Rusty. Well, after I picked up the glove, I started up the street toward the cafe here. I caught up to Tom Jenkins walking this way, too. Why didn't Tom come in? I'm getting to that. I showed him the glove and I said, Tom seems to me I've seen you wear gloves like this. Tom stopped walking and said, No, no, you couldn't have. Then right away he says, Why did you get that glove? He seemed upset. I bet he recognized it all right. Sure he did. He was bug-eyed, staring at it. Then I told him where I found it, and then I was taking it to the Constable. When I said that, he turned around and ran back in the direction of his cabin on the edge of town. Tom's the one who killed Jake. Sure. He threatened Jake, then went through with it. That settles it, Constable.  Now, you better get after him before he hits a trail away from Portima. I mean, that does make Jenkins a logical suspect, but you'll need more to make a case. The point that clenches at Sergeant is that Tom Jenkins was gone when I went to his cabin. Oh, that does look bad. Did you pick up his trail at all? Yes.  I got my dog team and started after him. Started to snow again. Then a few miles from town, I stepped into a small ice crevice injuring my leg. I gave up and came back to Portima. Then I sent for you. I see. That means there's only one thing to do now. Go after Tom and get him before he has a chance to cross the border if he hasn't reached it already. I figure he wouldn't be foolish enough to try going on through the well that we've been having. Let's see. Tom's had about three days' start. Yes, but I feel sure he holed up some place along the trail. And this blizzard will keep him there a while. Let's hope you're right. And better make preparations to be on my way. You mean you're going right now in this blizzard? Yes. If I wait until it stops, Jenkins will push on before I can catch him. I realize the risk I'll be taking that I'm going to get Tom Jenkins and bring him back. We'll continue our adventure in just a few moments. Old Timer, you look pretty busy there panning for gold. Well, son, when you're prospecting for gold up here in the Yukon, even forget about eating. But not when you have a heaping bowl full of Quakerpuff wheat or Quakerpuff rice waiting for you. What kind of videos are those? Why, haven't you heard? They're the swellest tasting breakfast cereals from here to White Horse. They're the famous cereal shot from guns. Shot from guns? Yep. Quakerpuff rice and Quakerpuff wheat are actually shot from guns to make them deliciously crisp and tender. They're exploded up, up, up two eight times normal size. That makes them bigger and better tasting. Well, that's a new one on me. Yes, sir. They're magnified, crispified. Shot through and through with bang-up nut-like flavor, too. I guess I'll do a little prospecting on that Quakerpuff rice and Quakerpuff wheat. Believe me, your appetite sure strikes it rich when you pour out a heaping bowl full of those tenderly crisp melt-in-your-mouth king-sized kernels of wheat or rice shot from guns. Don't I have to cook them or nothing? No cooking. Just add milk or cream on top with your favorite fruit. Mighty handy for a busy gold prospector. For any busy person and mighty nourishing, too, Quakerpuff wheat and Quakerpuff rice furnish added food values of restored natural grain amounts of vitamin B1, niacin, and iron. I'm going to get me a sack of them right away. Not a sack, gold timer. Quakerpuff rice and wheat are never sold in bags or bulk. And that's something for you fellas and girls to remember, too. Always look for the big red and blue boxes with a smiling Quaker man on the front. Then you'll be sure to get the original crisp, fresh, delicious Quakerpuff wheat and Quakerpuff rice. Now to continue. It was late afternoon when Sergeant Preston left 40 mile and headed up the Bear Creek Trail. On, King! On, your husband! Once more the Mountie felt the fury of the storm and King led the dog team along the wind-swept drift-covered trail northward. Preston reasoned that Jenkins was smart enough to stick to the trail and would take cover at the first opportunity. Though the blizzard was, in a way, an aiding factor that would keep the hunted man from moving on, Preston also knew it was an enemy that could bring about his own death if at worst circumstances should arise. His progress was slow, but still he pushed on. On, King! Take the wave on! Push! Push! After three hours of torturous travel and dispersed with short periods of rest, Sergeant Preston reached a part of the trail that ran along an icy ridge. The snow had stopped falling, but the wind was still blowing strongly. Okay! And a tough going, eh, fella? The wind swept the trail clean of Drift's King. The frozen crust along this had to move carefully. Wind's almost strong enough now to blow us into the ravine. Let's go, fella! All right! Once more they moved on, bucking the wind that blew in a queen sweep across the high ridge. Gradually the ridge curves so that within a short time the gale was hitting from the side, and at times making the heavy sled slide dangerously near the edge. Preston frantically jammed the scraping footbreak and called the team as one of the main harness depth growth, swinging the sled partially sideways. For a moment Preston stood breathing heavily as he noticed how close to the edge of the ridge trail the sled had swung. It was close! Almost had a serious accident, King. Had to fix that stub in a hurry, but I had to look at it. Stepping around the sled, Preston started along the few feet of space between the sled and the edge of the ravine. Suddenly, for the sharp cracking noise the overhanging ledge of icy snow gave way. Prantically the Mountie tried to throw himself toward the sled in safety, and then with a cry he hurtled downward into the deep narrow ravine. Landing in deep snow at the bottom of the ravine, Sergeant Preston lay for a moment without moving, and then he slowly struggled to his feet. I don't seem to be hurt. The snow drift eased my fall, but it was sure like the breath out of me. The moment he stared at the steep walls of the ravine, and he inwardly berated himself for not being more careful. A quick look around convinced the Mountie that there was no way out of the ravine, which was closed off all around by sheer, steep walls of ice. Realizing that help had to get to him as soon as possible, if he were to get out alive, he called to King on the ridge above. King! King! The Constable boy, get the Constable! Go on, fella, get the Constable! King, boy, hurry! Bring that here, King! For a short moment, the great dog stood whining and looking down at his master, and then, with a flash of understanding, the intelligent dog barking furiously started back along the trail toward Forty Mile. Meanwhile, in an old cabin a short distance up the trail where the ridge ended, Tom Jenkins stood staring through a window. The snow has stopped now. If that wind had died down, I bet I'd take a chance on hitting the trail again. With luck, I could cross the border in a few hours. I didn't dare risk getting that storm up to now. I'll start getting some grub together. As Tom turned from the window, a distant sound carried by the wind caused him to stop and listen intently. A dog barking. It might be the Constable, but I was sure he wouldn't attempt to buck the storm. I have to find out, I just have to. I'll take my rifle and walk around the bend in the trail. Quickly putting on his parka, Tom took his rifle and left the cabin. He walked the 200 yards to the point where there was a bend in the trail. From there, he could see along the ridge trail. The eerie light of the Yukon, combined with the whiteness of the snow-covered terrain, made it bright enough to see for some distance. As Tom rounded the bend, he stopped and held his rifle in readiness as he saw an empty sled with a dog team resting on the snow. A dog sled. There's no one in sight. There's no place for anyone to hide. He stood a few moments watching, and then, with cautious steps, he moved slowly forward to investigate. As he approached, the sled dog stood up and started barking. Nobody's with a sled that certain. Quiet! Quiet, you huskies! Holy smoke, somebody's in the ravine. Tom moved to the edge of the ravine, then stopped and looked downward. A mountain. Sergeant Preston. Lincoln! Tom Jenkins! Sergeant! Were you coming after me? That's all I was. I stepped on an overhanging wedge. You don't help me out of here all freeze today. I'm accused of murder. If I leave you there, I can get across the border and make it to the States. I know. You can't refuse to help a man in a spot like this, Tom. I'll help you on one condition, Sergeant. I can't bargain with you, Tom. I'm able. It's my duty to take you back. Then I won't help you out. I won't go back to be hanged for a murder I didn't commit. If you didn't commit that murder, Tom, must thing to do is stay and try to prove your innocence. If you don't help me, you will have a death on your hands for sure. No. I've decided. I'm gonna get my dog sled and head for the border while I've still got the chance. Ma'am, I'm sorry, Sergeant. So long. After Tom Jenkins left, Sergeant Preston fought the desire to call him back to promise Jenkins anything for his health. Preston clamped his teeth together to prevent giving voice to the words that welled up in his throat. Self-preservation was a strong human instinct, but he's pledged to perform his duty at the upper hand within the mountain. He knew it was a challenge, a challenge of Yukon wind and cold and ice that would mean death, perhaps, before the Great Dog King could return with help. But Sergeant Preston decided to meet that challenge rather than to compromise his devotion to duty. There's no use. I can't take his help if it means a promise to let him go. I won't do it. Twenty minutes passed. Twenty minutes of freezing winds howling over a prospective victim. Preston knew too well the results of his creeping insidious Sub-Zero cold. He was determined to fight off this enemy as long as possible, but time was an added weapon to the elements of the Yukon winter. He moved above for better circulation and looked hopelessly at the icy walls that hemmed him in. Suddenly, his eyes caught movement at the top of the ridge. Then he gazed up into the eyes of Tom Jenkins. Tom, I thought you'd left. I couldn't do it, Sergeant. I couldn't go any further. I hadn't come back. You're going to get me out? Yes. I've brought a rope from the cabin. I can't promise you anything, Tom. I don't expect it to. Get ready to grab the rope when I throw it down. Right. I'll have you out of there in a few minutes. After the rescue, the two men and the dog team went to the cabin where Preston could get warmth and rest. Tom said little while they had hot coffee. Then Sergeant Preston spoke. Tom, I haven't changed my mind. I have to take you back. I knew you wouldn't change, Sergeant. You could have left me and made it to the border. Yeah, I know, but I couldn't leave a man to die. I know you couldn't. I don't believe you could kill a man either. I'm taking you back, Tom, but I'll do everything possible to find out just who did kill old Jake. Well, let's get back to 40 mile. Just outside of 40 mile on the trail, Preston and Tom met the constable. After a quick explanation, they all returned to the constable's office. A short time later, Sergeant Preston and Tom were talking to the constable while King lay nearby. Tom saved my life, Constable, even though he could have made a getaway by leaving me there. I couldn't leave you, Sergeant. What's more, I didn't kill Jake. And the Sergeant convinced me it was best to try to prove myself innocent. By saving the sergeants you showed you aren't a killer. King's actions when he got here made me sure something had happened, but we couldn't have reached there in time. I feel sure of that. Now we have to think about Jake's murder, Ned. There's one thing, Sergeant, that set me thinking. What's that? The glove, Tom's glove. It was found by Jake's back porch. It was clean and dry when Rusty Jackson gave it to me. Sure about that? Yes. It's here in my desk drawer. Here it is. Well, that was one of a new pair of gloves I'd never worn. They were missing after I was robbed in my cabin. But I got panicky when Rusty showed it to me and said it was found to Jake's. It snowed all night. The night Jake was murdered, didn't you say, Ned? That's right. Well, that glove would have been hidden under the snow, but it wouldn't be easily found. And it would have been frozen stiff if Rusty brought it to you as soon as he found it, as he says. That's right. That's what I was thinking. Rusty Jackson lied when he said he found that glove the day after the murder. And he and Dave Baxter were the ones who supposedly discovered the body. Tom, you stay here with King. The constable and I have some unfinished business to attend to with the cabin Baxter and Jackson share. We'll catch them off guard. That's what I'm hoping. Come on. In their cabin, Dave and Rusty were talking. Here, Sergeant Pressin' come to turn the day and start it out after Jenkins. I reckon Jenkins is over the border by this time and still going. That storm was enough to slow the Mountie down anyway. By morning, the wind ought to be down and the storm blowing out. We'll pack up and head away from here. I wonder who that is. I'd have had my gun handy. Go open the door. All right. We want to talk to you and Jackson Baxter. Yeah? Come on in. Thought you went after Jenkins, Sergeant? I did, and he's here in town. But we're not satisfied that he's the man we want. You got enough on him to prove he is. That's your Parker hanging there, Jackson? Yeah. What about it? Mind if I look it over? Hey, I don't get this. Neither do I. I noticed you were holding a gun. Rusty was just being careful. Sergeant, look here. You recognize this glove? The mate to the one said to be found at Jake's. Hey, get away from there. No, you don't. There you are. Don't move, Baxter. There's a poke of gold in Rusty's Parker, too. The initials T.J. on the bank.  Now, we can be sure of that. You'll both hang. No, no, you can't pin that on me. Rusty's on it. Baxter plans to blame him, Jenkins. That's enough, Jackson. You can talk later. Well, Ned, we know enough now to take them in for Jake's murder. That planted glove gave them a way to begin with. We'll take them in, Sergeant. They'll talk enough. Even if they don't, I can complete the case against them. That's right. And now Tom Jenkins has cleared. As far as I'm concerned, Ned, this case is closed. In just a moment, Sergeant Preston will give you a preview of Monday's adventure. Remember, here's the breakfast that wins the praise of so many top action Hollywood movie stars. It's delicious, tenderly crisp, nourishing Quakerpuff's wheat or Quakerpuff's rice. Your family, too, will go for the tempting taste and nut-like flavor of wheat or rice shot from guns. You'll want to try them starting tomorrow. Remember, to get the original crisp, fresh shot from gun cereal, always look for the famous big red and blue package with the smiling Quakerman on the front. They're never sold in bags or bulk. Get Quakerpuff's wheat and Quakerpuff's rice. Listen Monday, when Sergeant Preston and Yukon King meet the challenge of the Yukon in the case Copper Gulch Patrol. When Constable Joe Carson was murdered, King and I had to take his personal belongings to his parents. On this patrol, an unusual turn of events brought me face to face with the three men who had killed Joe Carson. I was trapped and outnumbered by desperate outlaws who would stop at nothing to escape the hangman. Be sure to hear this exciting adventure Monday. These radio dramas, a feature of the challenge of the Yukon Incorporated, are created and produced by George W. Trenville, directed by Fred Flower Day and supervised by Charles D. Livingston. The part of Sergeant Preston is played by Paul Sutton. They are brought to you every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at the same time by Quakerpuff's wheat and Quakerpuff's rice. The breakfast cereal shot from gun. For a delicious hot breakfast, eat Quakeroats. The giant of the cereals is Quakeroats. Delicious, nutritious, makes you feel ambitious. The giant of the cereals is Quakeroats. Say boys and girls, do you want to be a star someday in sports and activities? Then start on good Quakeroats breakfast tomorrow, because nourishing oatmeal gives you more growth and endurance than any other whole grain cereal. Remember, Quaker and mother's oats are the same. This is J. Michael wishing you good bye, good luck and good health from Quakerpuff wheat and Quakerpuff's rice.


Hey guys, my name is Sonali welcome back to my channel today I'm gonna be showing you guys how to achieve this eye look using the Jacqueline Hill Morphe palette in case you guys didn't see my last video It was also a makeup tutorial using the same palette just a different look and in that video I mentioned doing a giveaway So if you're interested in entering then go check out that video because it has all the rules in the description box And in the video but in this video, we're going to be doing a cool tone and warm tone Eye look we're just gonna be mixing it all together in this tutorial Which definitely pushes me outside of my comfort zone But I think it turned out so good, and I'm actually low key obsessed with it So let's get started since this look is very dramatic and colorful We want to set our eyelids and prime them So today I'm gonna be taking my max paint pot in the color laying low And I'm just going to be applying this all over the lid and the crease And just blend like the edges with your finger I feel like it just makes it a little bit softer of an edge Then I'm gonna set my lids with this derma blend setting powder Then we're gonna immediately dust the powder off. So going into the Jacqueline Hill Morphe palette I'm gonna be using this light brown shade and putting it into my crease Next we're gonna take this peachy color, but for this color We're going to blend it a little below the color. We just put it in our crease Then I'm gonna be taking this reddish brown color and creating a little bit of depth in my crease Then I'm gonna be taking this blue and putting it on my lid I am gonna be using my pinky for this blue because I feel like the color payoff is just so much better when I use my finger for any like glittery or shimmery pigments So these are the eyes right now, and I personally don't think it looks super terrible Especially for my first time using crazy colors like this But I did want to make like the peachy reddish part a little bit darker and a little bit more noticeable And then blend the two seamlessly. I'm trying to copy this picture from like Morphe's Instagram It's definitely not as good as the Instagram's, but hey again, it's my first time like really playing with colors So I'm trying to like make it look as close as I can So we're gonna go back in with some of the peachy colors and maybe even the browns So we're gonna take this peachy orange color and put it in our crease again So that looks a little bit better, but as you can see it's kind of like dripping down on the blue eye shadow So we're gonna have to apply some of that again So you can kind of tell the difference like this. I just looks a lot more Popping and the side just looks like I'm wearing blue eyeshadow So I definitely want like the two colors to be shown to deepen the corners up I'm going to be taking this purple right here And this is the difference without the deepening of the corner This one has it and then this one doesn't and then I'm just gonna blend a little bit more So this is what I have so far. I'm not done just yet I actually want to go put on a full face of makeup and then come back and do my lower lash line with you guys and I Definitely think this look calls for some lashes and luckily for me I just picked up some new ones from Ulta, so I will be right back So I put on some lashes and did my full face makeup and now it is time to do the lower lash line First I'm gonna be taking this peachy color and putting that all over my lash line But I'm gonna be placing the blue on the outer part of my lower lash line and for the next step I'm going to be taking mascara. I'm putting some on the bottom lash line So this is the complete cool tone warm tone. I look I hope you guys really enjoyed this video Definitely push me out of my comfort zone and don't forget to check out my giveaway for the Jacqueline Hill Morphe palette if you're interested in entering then definitely go check out my last makeup tutorial Using the Jacqueline Hill and Morphe palette all the rules are in the description box and in the video So you can find out more about it there. So I will see you guys in my next video. Bye guys


Fana Mokoena on lockdown devastation, this has hit artists the hardest. Former Generations actor Fana Mokoena has added his voice to concerns about the effect lockdown level 4 will have on the entertainment industry, claiming it will hit artists the hardest. President Cyril Ramaphosa announced on Sunday all social events, whether indoors or outdoors, are prohibited for 14 days. There is also a ban on the sale of alcohol per on-site and off-site consumption, and restaurants are closed for sit-ins. The former EFFMP took to social media on Monday to weigh in on the debate around the lockdown regulations, saying the banning of gatherings will devastate the entertainment industry. It must be registered that the creative economy has suffered the most and the longest under lockdown restrictions, he claimed. He said artists largely rely on gatherings to make a livelihood. Artists in one way or another rely on numbers of people, whether in live events, tourism, etc. This has hit artists the most. Fana also hit back at suggestions that creatives should have a side hustle in another sector because the entertainment industry is not a guarantee for a better life. The earlier told followers the country had done its best to adhere to lockdown measures at first but the government took advantage of people's patience. Lockdowns keep prolonging and people are suffering, he added. Attempts by Chvissa live to get further comment from Fana on his statements were unsuccessful at the time of publishing this story. Any comment will be included once received. Fana is not the only star to speak out on the lockdown restrictions. Rapper Kasper Nyobis also predicted it would end many careers and livelihoods. We are doomed. Finished. Done. Y'all stay safe out there. I hope we make it out alive at least because our livelihoods are officially gone, Kasper said.


Google launched a new AI-empowered cell phone called Google Pixel 8. Let's check out these AI features in those new phones. Number one, it used generic AI in many different features, such as wallpaper features generated by AI. They also used Google Bar to create AI assistance, for example, summarizing a website and summarizing a YouTube video like this. It has a new magic editor feature that is able to take the best picture of everybody in the same picture and put it together to give the best outcome. So everyone looks flawless. Given these new features, are you going to switch from iPhone to Google Pixel? Comment below. This is Dr. Nancy. Like, subscribe, and see you next video right here.