His name, Daganoweda, the Inexhaustible,
was fully deserved, as his bravery and resource were unlimited. But
unlike Tayoga, he had in him none of the priestly quality. He had not
drunk or even sipped at the white man's civilization. The spirituality
so often to be found in the Onondagas was unknown to him. He was a
warrior first, last and all the time. He was Daganoweda of the Clan of
the Turtle, of the Nation Ganeagaono, the Keepers of the Eastern Gate,
of the great League of the Hodenosaunee, and he craved no glory save
that to be won in battle, which he craved all the time.
Daganoweda, as he looked at his men, felt intense satisfaction,
because the achievement of his Mohawks the night before had been
brilliant and successful, but he concealed it from all save himself. It
was not for a chief who wished to win not one victory, but a hundred
to show undue elation. But he turned and for a few moments gazed
directly into the sun with unwinking eyes, and when he shifted his
gaze away, a great tide of life leaped in his veins.
Then he gave silent thanks. Like all the other Indians in North
America the Mohawks personified and worshipped the sun, which to them
was the mighty Dweller in Heaven, almost the same as Manitou, a great
spirit to whom sacrifices and thanksgivings were to be made.
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