e, but he certainly never expected to be completely
surrounded by three hundred full-blooded Iroquois braves and
warriors, such as now encircled him on every side. Every Indian
was in war-paint and feathers, some stripped to the waist, their
copper-colored skins brilliant with paints, dyes, and "patterns";
all carried tomahawks, scalping-knives, and bows and arrows. Every
red throat gave a tremendous war-whoop as he alighted, which was
repeated again and again, as for that half moment he stood silent, a
slim, boyish figure, clad in light grey tweeds--a singular contrast
to the stalwarts in gorgeous costumes who crowded about him. His
young face paled to ashy whiteness, then with true British grit he
extended his right hand and raised his black "billy-cock" hat with
his left. At the same time he took one step forward. Then the
war-cries broke forth anew, deafening, savage, terrible cries, as
one by one the entire three hundred filed past, the Prince shaking
hands with each one, and removing his glove to do so. This strange
reception over, Onwanonsyshon rode up, and, flinging his scarlet
blanket on the grass, dismounted and asked the Prince to stand
on it.

Then stepped forward an ancient chief, father of Onwanonsyshon,
and Speaker of the Council. He was old in inherited and personal
loyalty to the British crown. He had fought under Sir Isaac Brock
at Queenston Heights in 1812, while yet a mere boy, and upon him was
laid the honor of making his Queen's son a chief. Taking Arthur
by the hand, this venerable warrior walked slowly to and fro across
the blanket, chanting as he went the strange, wild formula of
induction. From time to time he was interrupted by loud expressions
of approval and assent from the vast throng of encircling braves,
but apart from this no sound was heard but the low, weird monotone
of a ritual older than the white man's foot-prints in North America.

It is necessary that a chief of each of the three "clans" of the
Mohawks shall assist in this ceremony. The veteran chief, who sang
the formula, was of the Bear clan. His son, Onwanonsyshon, was of
the Wolf (the clanship descends through the mother's side of the
family). Then one other chief, of the Turtle clan, and in whose
veins coursed the blood of the historic Brant, now stepped to the
edge of the scarlet blanket. The chant ended, these two young
chiefs received the Prince into the Mohawk tribe, conferring upon
him the name of "Kavak