The Winnebago camper wended its way through the Allegheny Mountains giving the passengers inside a beautiful view of central Pennsylvania. Sally and the kids were enjoying a game of cards at the table beside the small kitchenette while Mark sat in the chair closer to Clarence who was behind the wheel.

"We should have rented something so you didn't have to do all the driving," Mark said.

"I don't mind," Clarence replied. "I've driven all over the country in one of these things, four hundred miles is just a short hop to me."

"So your department travels around in these things a lot?"

"Have to, some of the sites we visit are so far out in the boondocks there are no hotels. I have to give the motor pool some credit; they hustled to get this ready for me in time."

Clarence had only given the transportation division a day's notice, but they were used to the eccentricities of the Smithsonian scientists by now. He'd driven it home on Friday for the weekend, enough time to shop and stock the kitchen with their needs.

Mark and Ronny had taken a leisurely drive back across the Bay Bridge that same Friday to do a few housekeeping chores and pack a larger bag for what might be a week's stay in upstate New York. Katherine had been thrilled to see them and grateful for the snow globe Ronny had brought her with the little Capitol building inside.

Ronny had gone off to share the news of his trip with the other eight kids who had remained on campus for the summer, while Mark and Katherine sat down with Doc for an afternoon chat.

"So how was the visit with the parents?" Katherine asked. She already knew the trip was a success, Ronny was bubbling over with excitement.

"Interesting, and I like the mother," Mark said. "The father has some terrible religious hang-ups, but she handles him pretty well. Ronny was well behaved but the tension between them is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Having him here is the best thing for the boy."

"You told Katherine about heading north next week, what are you hoping to discover?" Doc asked.

"Ronny needs to see his native roots and meet the family. Sally is determined to bring the other two siblings along since the father hasn't allowed them to see her half of the family before. It should be quite an experience for all of them."

Doc smiled. "That sounds like a good opportunity, so how does Dr. Blackfoot fit into all this?"

"Clarence is a brilliant man; I have no doubts about that," Mark said. "The Pebbles family lives in the heart of the former Oneida homeland and from what Sally says her grandmother was the last of her kind. I think Clarence will find a great deal to study, and then there's the tie in with George Washington."

"Washington? He knew the family?" Katherine asked.

"He certainly did. Ronny's ancestors fought beside Washington in the Revolution, the Oneida were very supportive. Oh, I have to show you this; Clarence came up with it on his home computer."

Mark unfolded a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and handed it over. She read it aloud for Doc.

"From the Continental Congress, 1877, regarding the Oneida contribution to the war:

We have experienced your love, strong as the oak, and your fidelity, unchangeable as truth. You have kept fast hold of the ancient covenant-chain, and preserved it free from rust and decay, and bright as silver. Like brave men, for glory you despised danger; you stood forth, in the cause of your friends, and ventured your lives in our battles. While the sun and moon continue to give light to the world, we shall love and respect you. As our trusty friends, we shall protect you; and shall at all times consider your welfare as our own."

Katherine handed the sheet to Doc and smiled. "That's a pretty strong statement of support and thanks, so how did they screw it up so badly?"

"One of the reasons I couldn't be a lawyer like my father, politics is the subtle art of destruction," Mark said. "One group of politicians is never beholding to the next. Wisdom fades, old truths are forgotten to meet current desires. The harsh part of all this is that the Iroquois had a better sense of democracy long before the first congress met. Our revolution was their undoing; they lost everything they held dear."

Doc looked up from the piece of paper. "If I didn't know better I'd say you've become a radical supporter of Native American causes."

Mark smiled. "I wouldn't say radical, studied is a better word. I have to be truthful; Clarence, Ronny and I are on the track of something big. I'd be lying if I told you I know exactly what will turn up, I don't.

"George Washington bequeathed Ronny's ancestor a large tract of land in upstate New York, we don't know yet if Congress ratified that agreement. But Clarence has the power of the Smithsonian behind him; he's on a mission to find clues to that bequest. Ronny's ancestor was named Fierce Beaver; he was chief of his clan in the Oneida people. The family may still have a copy of that document, and we need to find it."

"And what will that do for Ronny?" Katherine asked.

Mark sighed. "The land itself means nothing, but the timing is everything. If Ronny's family held possession of that land until Congress changed the rules of the game then they have a claim for their loss. Treaties were made and the land was handed over to others in the years following the Revolution. But if Congress did ratify Washington's gift and then gave the land to others without nullifying that first agreement ... then we'll have something."

Doc smiled. "You are already acting like your father's son, sounds like a legal battle ahead."

Mark nodded. "Could be, and if Congress did goof up this will end up in the Supreme Court. The good thing is that we have Clarence and the Smithsonian organization on our side, or I should say Ronny's side. That's why it's important to involve his family; this will affect Native American culture all across the continent."

Katherine grinned. "You certainly have big ambitions ... good."

"We all know Ronny is going to leave here at some point," Mark said. "I don't see him going home to the father. Just knowing he has close family will help him a lot. Maybe he can stay with them while he goes to college."

"You think Ronny will be ready for a college education?" Doc asked.

Mark nodded. "His development is accelerating rapidly; he's almost back on track. There are a great number of schools out there with degrees in Native American studies if that's what he wants. Wainright has put his feet back on the ground; he owes you a great deal of gratitude."

"Probably," Katherine said. "But I think the debt is yours, he's not the same child we had six months ago."

Mark grinned. "So you think if he becomes famous I ought to cash in?"

Katherine laughed. "That will be between the two of you."

Ronny spent Friday and Saturday night in the dorm and probably kept the others up until late with his tales of the Washington trip. On Sunday Doc had another fishing expedition planned and Ronny went along to share his new knowledge. Mark drove over to Millsboro to see Russel.

"Wondered if you were going to stop in, how did the trip to Washington pan out?" Russel asked.

"Very well, we're off to upstate New York next week ... would you like to come with us?" Mark asked.

"Naw, you go have your adventure with Clarence."

"He's an exceptional person, you have interesting friends," Mark said.

"I do, you among them," Russel said. "I expect if this all works out then I'll find out pretty quick. Just have patience with Clarence; he has no equal when it comes to being methodical. That kind of thinking goes with the job. If you do find the stone he may take half a year to dig it up."

"He can have all the time he wants. Do you really think it holds ancient spirits, is it dangerous?" Mark asked.

"A good question, they say the tombs of the Pharaohs were laden with spells. Do I think a carved stone that could be thousands of years old is full of dangerous magic? To our minds it might be, I think the reality is something quite different. That piece of rock is the collision point between two very different cultures, who knows what that means? If Ronny knows the prayers to say I'd let him do it, because if anything goes wrong you won't get a second chance."

"Okay, now you're creeping me out," Mark said. "Could there be spirits haunting that stone? Is there any evidence of paranormal activity of that kind in Indian lore?"

"Lots of it, but there's no way to tell if any of it is true. Saying something is cursed with a magic spell or haunted is just a means of mind control."

"Yeah, Clarence mentioned voodoo," Mark replied.

"Exactly, and if I wanted the neighbors to stay out of my back yard I could claim it was haunted and some would believe me. That stone is an artifact; it meant different things to every person who saw it. I imagine the Vikings left it as a monument to their prowess in crossing the sea and exploring that area. To the native it became sacred because of the runes which they could not decipher. It was a message from above created by the Great Mother.

"The point is that the natives didn't know the Vikings, that was centuries before them and oral tradition failed to pass along the meaning. Writing was unknown; they didn't know the runes stood for words. That will be something you will have to decode and share with the rest of us."

Mark smiled. "I'd love to be around and listen to you and Clarence share ideas about the past."

Russel nodded. "You'll get the chance, go find that stone and anything associated with it."

Mark kept those thoughts churning in his head on the drive back to the campus. The boys had caught a substantial number of fish; fortunately they had them cleaned by someone at the docks. They loaded up the grill behind Doc's house and had a fish fry for anyone left on campus that night.

Katherine and Mark sat back and watched the seven boys and two girls interact with Doc. It had been a wonderful two days; Mark had been relieved that there had been no dreams to shatter that peace.

"He really was meant to be here doing this," Katherine said.

"Ronny? Oh, you mean Doc," Mark said.

She gave him a significant look. "That boy certainly has taken over your thoughts, is that healthy?"

Mark smiled. "It's not just him. Both Russel and Clarence are such interesting and thought provoking individuals."

"Your contract is up at the end of the month, are you going to stay with us?"

"I'd like to stay on, I was thinking of asking Clarence to mentor me for a Master's. I'm not sure anthropology is exactly the field I want, but there are many ways to write a program of study."

"I just want you to do what's right for you," Katherine said.

"I could write a PhD dissertation on Ronny's abilities, but I won't. He gave his father a migraine headache without batting an eyelash. All because the man gave his mother a hard time, she knows about it too."

"It's not the way a boy should treat his father, and what Ronny can do is dangerous," Katherine said.

"He's done it before and I think it's learned behavior. If I'm right then it was his mother who sent him to Wainright to protect her husband. Ronny has reached the Ohslayelit time of his life, his maturity, and that means he's come into all his mental abilities. Separating father and son is the only way Sally can keep her family together."

"Wow, you're way ahead of me in understanding this stuff," Katherine said.

"Don't feel bad, I'm not sure what I do know."

Ronny came to spend the night in Mark's apartment, his bag was packed and they would leave early Monday morning to meet Clarence. The boy hadn't seen his relatives in a decade, and now there was a new purpose to go. They turned in early and Mark didn't even bother to make up a bed on the couch, he knew where Ronny would sleep.

Sharing a bed was comforting ... familiar. They talked for a while and then kissed before snuggling in close together. It was almost a foregone conclusion that this would be a night to dream.

Grey Eyes was in pain, there was blood on his face that was running into his eyes. He had been outnumbered so he ran. It was not the way of a warrior, but he ran. He barely saw the path through the trees but he had put a great distance between himself and his pursuers, they would never catch him now.

It had been foolish for him to enter the town alone, but he had seen the church steeple and felt drawn to learn what faith these people espoused. People had stared at him as he walked down the single street towards the church. There were only five buildings, a mere village hoping to be a town Grey Eyes surmised.

The doors to the church were open as he paused on the threshold and looked inside. He could hear the sound of saws and a hammer, there was a group of men building a wall at one end. One of the men looked up and frowned.

"Is the preacher here?" Grey Eyes asked.

"What you want a parson for, boy?" The man asked.

"I am Christian; I wish to speak with him."

"So they baptized you?"

"The Reverend Kinkaid did this many years ago," Grey Eyes replied.

"This is a strict church ... we don't take to Indians," The man said.

The others had stopped their work and were fast approaching; Grey Eyes suddenly felt the threat. He didn't understand, but they didn't appear friendly.

"I will leave you to your work ... " And the man swung the hammer at him.

It was no different than a warrior swinging an axe. He ducked and pushed the man away to one side. Another came at him and Grey Eyes backed out into the road, never taking his eyes off the men who rushed at him. There were four, and he soon had all of them sprawling in the dirt.

The blow came from behind, a sharp pain on the side of his head that bowled him over, and then they jumped on him. Grey Eyes was beaten by all five men until a loud voice yelled for them to stop. It would not do to stand against this many opponents, he ran without looking back.

If he had been armed they would never have been able to touch him, but Grey Eyes had left his weapons in the woods. No Indian would carry a musket or axe into a white man's settlement, they would just open fire. These new white settlers didn't understand the Oneida people, many fine young men had been killed by their foolishness.

The war had been over for three years. Grey Eyes had enjoyed this time of peace among his people. They still had quarrels with the Seneca and Mohawk, but most of their enemies had moved west. He had seen twenty-two winters now, and had been mated since the last one.

He had chosen his mother's cousin's daughter, a mere girl of fourteen winters called Little Bird. They had spent the winter with the girl's family and when the leaves turned green she announced that she was with child.

This is why Grey Eyes had approached the settlement; he would have his child baptized in the Christian way, but not now. The white men he knew were all gone, their presence but a memory. Chief Skenandoah still traveled to see his white friends, but few of them came to see him.

The white settlers had come in droves, clearing the land and planting crops. For a time the Oneida had watched from the cover of their forests, but soon even those trees would be gone. The government men came with gifts and proud words, reminding them that they had been allies in war. It was all done to placate the warriors and keep them from pushing back against the settlers.

The chiefs met and there was great talk about what should be done. Many wanted to move west, the whites had promised them land in the territory of Wisconsin ... most would leave. The family of Grey Eyes would not be one of them. He would not leave the land of his father, and his father's family ... he could not.

The sacred stone now had greater meaning as the white man came closer, they could not be allowed to touch it. The mound was not far from his village, the place he had been told would be theirs by his father.

Fierce Beaver had shown him the paper that neither of them could read and told him what it was.

"The great General has spoken his desires on this paper; it must be protected as if they were the words of the Great Mother. This is our future, your future, and all the sons and sons of your sons will give praise to you for keeping this."

Grey Eyes had considered burying it alongside the stone, but he knew that paper was fragile and would rot. Instead he had wrapped it in fine deerskin and covered that with the oiled skin of a beaver. Water could not penetrate the thickness, and so he stored it in his box of precious objects hidden beneath the stones of the hearth in his long house. No one would find it there, he would be sure to tell his son where it was.

They were headed for Elmira, New York, and the highway north from there. Clarence had the GPS up and running which was a good thing, Mark would have been lost up here. They had stopped for lunch outside of Allentown, Pennsylvania. A roadside café with little to distinguish itself except for the great number of large trucks in the parking lot.

"Always follow the truckers, they know all the good places to eat," Clarence said.

Mark couldn't disagree as he watched Ronny consume an unbelievably large hamburger and a plate full of fries. Sally had almost laughed, but her other two had ordered soup and salad.

"At home I teach mine to eat well, what have you done to this one?" Sally said.

"He's eaten Greek and Thai food with me," Mark said. "I don't know where this red meat fetish came from."

"Warriors need meat," Ronny said with his mouthful.

"Enough of that, young man. Chew and swallow before you talk," Sally said.

"What kind of home does your family live in?" Mark asked.

"Old house, some of it is still of log construction," Sally said. "My Gran said there have been Pebbles family living there for hundreds years, the ground is sacred."

Clarence smiled. "I imagine it is if your grandmother was a visionary."

"You will be welcomed by my parents; there is great history in that old place."

Mark had told Clarence of the dream, he had to. They were looking for that document and the image of Grey Eyes stashing it under the hearth was just too compelling. It might still be there, but you couldn't walk into someone's house and tear up the place. Clarence didn't seem concerned; he obviously had more patience than Mark.

They drove through dozens of small towns traveling up Highway 390 before they turned west. The town of Basom was a tiny dot on the map, but from all they had learned it was exactly in the right spot.

A small cluster of buildings, a post office, and they turned onto the state highway where they passed a convenience store.

"If you need food you'll have to make the trip into Akron about eight miles down the road, my sister Janet goes that way couple times a week," Sally said.

"I think we have all we need," Clarence said.

They crossed a small river and Sally told Clarence to slow down.

"That's the Tonawanda Creek, we turn right at the next road," She said.

The large Winnebago moved slowly around the corner and up a slight grade where on the left they encountered a sign that announced the Tonawanda Indian Reservation.

"That's their house up on the right in the trees," Sally said.

"I remember this place," Ronny said.

Clarence pulled into the driveway and stopped, he wasn't sure where to put the vehicle. A man stepped out into the driveway and motioned them on.

"That's my father Warren," Sally said.

"Okay, but I'll have a hell of a time backing down if we don't fit," Clarence said, mostly to himself.

The Winnebago just barely cleared the trees, but there at the top of the drive was a huge flat area, there was lots of room to turn around if he wanted. Clarence pulled over and set the parking brake. Only then did he open the door and Sally bounded down the steps.

"She-ku, Sally," Warren said.

"Shekóli, Papa," Sally replied as she hugged him, and then several other people arrived and clustered around. Mark and Clarence allowed the kids to exit first.

"Papa, this is Elizabeth and Alan, you may remember Ronny," Sally said.

The kids found themselves hugged and introduced to the crowd, there were a dozen relatives standing around by now. Mark and Clarence stood up and took the steps down to the gravel surface.

"Everyone, this is Mr. Ryan, Ronny's teacher, and this is Dr. Blackfoot with the Museum of the Native Americans in Washington."

Sally's introduction seemed to make quite an impression, hands were shaken, the relatives looked respectful. They were introduced to Sally's mother and her sister Janet. Warren smiled and gathered the children into his arms.

"Janet's kids will be here in just a while so you'll have to go through the introductions all over again," He said.

"Oh, they're not here?" Ronny said.

"No, they don't get out of school until two-thirty."

"School? But its summer time," Ronny laughed.

"They go to school year round, I'll let them explain it to you," Warren said.

Clarence was standing in the gravel looking at the house. Mark noticed the stare.

"It looks old. I see that scientific gleam in your eyes," Mark said.

"It's an amazing specimen, look at that wood work."

Warren heard the comment. "That's the original part of the house there on the left, they used oak logs and they're hard as a rock. We replaced the pine section about ten years ago after mom died. Those stone foundations are two feet thick, a few cracks maybe."

"There's been a long house on the site for a long time, I presume," Clarence said.

"Must have been. We found an old fire pit in a central location when we replaced the floor, but the cooking hearth is still there too. My father and I did our best to preserve the old things; I know they have historical value to a guy like you."

Sally and the kids were surrounded by family, everyone looked happy. Mark stood and looked at the land around the house, and especially across the street. Warren saw his gaze.

"Having the Seneca there is funny actually; they were our enemies for so many years. We own the land for almost a mile along the river; they can't get water without crossing our property. But we don't have any grudge against them, they've been good neighbors."

"Does the reservation have a big tourist value?" Mark asked.

"No, the Iroquois Wildlife Park is east of here, that's the big draw, if you want to call it that. This is a backwater, no one comes here and we all feel like it's too quiet," Warren said.

"I'd like to see the inside of the house if I may," Clarence said.

Warren led them into the new part of the house. A large family kitchen with food cooking on the stove was the major part of this section.

"You'll be expected to eat, the ladies have been cooking all day," Warren said.

"It smells wonderful," Mark said.

"Janet and the kids have their bedrooms off the kitchen that way, my wife and I sleep in Mom's old room. Pantry is over there, and that's the door to the cellar. Right this way to the old house," Warren said, but Clarence was looking at the cellar door.

The old house was twice the size of the new, if not larger. This was the last long house these folks had built and they could see that the flooring had been replaced. The walls were hung with old quilts and right in the middle there was a woven dream catcher.

"Used to be a dirt floor in here ... messy, uncomfortable and damn cold fall and winter, I don't know how Mom put up with it. She used to sit over there in the corner beside the hearth with her feet up on the stones. All those quilts you see would be wrapped around her; we hung them on the wall. As a boy it was my job to make sure she had a good fire going to keep her feet warm.

"Sometimes she would be out of it, having one of her visions. That stuff would spook me something terrible. My wife used to tell me not to mind, it was just the old ways. Mom died in that chair too; we had to get rid of the old thing because everyone was afraid to sit in it."

The corner now held a modern recliner. "In some native groups the chairs of the elderly were burned after they died in hopes that their spirit wouldn't hang around and instead would rise right on up to the Great Mother," Clarence said.

Warren nodded. "I heard about that, but my wife took it over to the Goodwill in town."

Clarence smiled. "If nothing else it proves that as a people the Oneida are also practical."

He walked over and inspected the hearth. The fireplace was built of stacked flat stones built into the wall. Native Americans were not known for building like this, the central fire pit was much more traditional. But that meant a hole in the roof to let the smoke escape which was less than efficient. Stacked stone construction was part of Oneida culture and it seems someone had built this to last.

"Fireplace still works," Warren said. "We rebuilt the chimney some years back but it was clean as could be, guess they never burnt anything but hardwood."

Clarence nodded, looking down at the three great stones which comprised the hearth. He knew something could be under there. "You say there's a cellar?"

"Sure is, under the whole house ... well except here. I think the only reason this fireplace lasted is because of this big old boulder it sits on. Don't imagine anyone could move it so they built on top. I'll be glad to show you."

"Maybe later," Clarence said. "I don't want to take up all your time."

Mark had listened to all this talk, but his mind was still outside wondering exactly where that mound was located. They followed Warren back out to the yard and the family was still out there talking up a storm.

"Have patience, Mark," Clarence said. "All things in time, but not until the socializing is done. This is a beautiful land; we'll have time to see much of it."

Mark smiled. "You know we have to see the falls, I've never been up here before."

"Of course, we will have to go there. The area is rich in native heritage no matter what we find here. Ahh, I believe it's time to eat and then there will be more talk," Clarence said. "Tomorrow we will explore."

Ronny ate with his usual gusto and a great deal of curiosity. The meat was venison, a huge roast, and something Mark had never tasted before. Corn, beans, tomatoes and a flat corn bread filled out the meal. Clarence was pleased, these were traditional native foods.

They were sitting under the trees in the back yard on a bluff that sat some distance from the slope that led down to the river. Mark had counted twenty-two people at the tables, the extended family brought together. There were Sally's three kids and six more. What made that interesting was that they were all girls except for Ronny and Alan.

They sat at the tables for what seemed like hours until Sally mentioned it was getting dark and Clarence needed to figure out where he wanted the camper. Warren suggested they leave it right where it was and he would run an electrical cord out from the back porch. It was agreed that Mark and Clarence would sleep in the camper, Sally and the kids would find room inside.

The tables were cleaned off and Warren ran his extension cord, then they all retired inside for more talk. It was fully dark when Mark and Clarence made their way back to the camper and settled in for the night.

"Tomorrow we go look at the mound," Clarence said.

"I wonder what the Seneca will say," Mark said.

"Warren already told me no one is around during the week except during a few of the evenings. The GPR equipment is bulky, but not that heavy, the two of us could carry it over there. We'll check it out tomorrow and look around; maybe the kids would like to come with us?"

"Okay, but I know you want to get in the cellar."

"It won't be much more than a crawl space, you can see they built up the floor. But if it was all dirt since the house was built just imagine what might be imbedded down there."

Mark smiled and closed his eyes. Yes, it would curious to see what former generations had left behind. There were no dreams that night, but there was Ronny. At some point in the night he crept into the camper and slid into the narrow bed with Mark.

The smell of coffee woke Mark as did the realization of the weight pressed against his side. Ronny was scrunched up tight to keep from falling off the bed. Mark thought about the situation before he opened his eyes. What would Clarence think? What could he say?

Clarence was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and he smiled when Mark sat up. The camper might be comfortable but it certainly wasn't private.

"Good Morning," Clarence said in quiet tones. "He came in about midnight, I'm not even sure he was awake."

Mark slowly extricated himself from the bed and rolled Ronny to the middle. "He's done this before, but I'm not sure it's sleep walking."

"You have a strong mental connection, did you dream last night?"

"No ... maybe it's because we're here," Mark said.

"Could be, we never did determine what triggers the dreams," Clarence replied. He looked at Ronny. "He's still in a deep sleep."

Mark smiled. "Oh yeah, it would take a bomb to wake him up. I'll give him an hour, why don't we take a walk?"

Clarence smiled. "You just can't wait can you?"

Mark shook his head. "This has been a part of me for months, I have to see it."

They walked down the driveway and headed down the road to the entrance of the reservation. The small street sign said Council Meeting Road and they followed it for a while.

"Have you encountered other mounds in your research?" Mark asked.

"Dozens," Clarence replied. "Some were burial mounds, others the site of ancient long houses. The Woodlands period spawned a scattering of tribal cultures, the Hopewell being the prominent group around here. Only a few graves were ever opened, preservation being the key in my business.

"In Ohio we discovered bones at the surface of one mound and decided it was worth investigating. The bones weren't human, they were animal remains but since we had disturbed the surface we went deeper and found four human remains to catalog."

"I didn't know you dug up bones, I thought you studied cultures?" Mark said.

"Anthropology and archeology work hand in hand, always have. I like to be on a site from the beginning as the clues come out of the ground. It's a lot more than cataloging bones because how they lay may indicate a cause of death, rituals and all sorts of interesting facts. I'm sure this mound would be filled with clues."

"So they would build a long house on a mound? Is that to make it a better defensive position?" Mark asked.

"I think so. Many cultures build hill forts, the Celtic people did it all the time. The long house in early native groups was a ceremonial meeting place and they often held the sacred fire for the village. That would make it a place worth defending. The Cherokee had a fire keeper who kept the blaze going in a pit surrounded with stones; it was a symbol of their relationship to the spirit world.

"Every native culture has a story about how man was given fire by the Great Mother. Earth, wind, water and fire are the four sacred elements of life to us and many other cultures. Most of the sacred ceremonies involve fire in some way. I imagine if we use our modern technology to find this stone that at some point we will have to hold a ceremony before it is uncovered."

"I remember the dream, the ceremony Fierce Beaver held before the stone was moved. I need to remember the prayer, Ronny might know it," Mark said.

"He will have to hold that ceremony ... " Clarence began and stopped speaking. "I think that's our mound over there."

They had come only a short distance but across a short stretch of clear land there was a path leading into the trees to a clearing. The dense growth around the area was filled with green except for this one spot. Mark looked down the path and saw the raised area; Clarence was already headed that way.

The mound wasn't that large, less than fifty feet long and half as wide. But it stood almost ten feet high and unlike the forest floor it was covered only in grass and small plants.

"Oh ... why doesn't anything grow on it?" Mark asked. Surely the trees around there scattered their seeds and nuts, but there were no trees growing on the mound.

"And here is where the superstition begins," Clarence said. "Some believe the spirits inside keep the trees away so that they may have a direct pathway to the sky and the Great Mother above. In fact, it's probably because seeds and nuts are exposed to the elements up there, birds and small animals can find them easier than on the forest floor."

The underbrush grew right up against the base of the slope. "I imagine the forest was much denser when the stone was brought here," Mark said.

"If the stone was brought here, we still don't know," Clarence said. "We'll need to scan the mound and get an image to study."

"Okay, but I have a better idea ... let's bring Ronny over here first."

The house was awake by the time they got back and Mark went into the camper to fetch Ronny. The boy was hugging the pillow and Mark smiled, just a little envious because he wanted that hug.

"Ronny, wake up," He said.

Mark ran his hand across the boy's cheek and saw those brown eyes pop open. Ronny smiled and sat up, looking around. "Oh ... I did it again," He said with a yawn.

"That's fine, Clarence says we're connected."

Ronny smiled. "Whatever he wants to believe." And then he gave Mark a kiss.

"Thank you," Mark said. "Let's go have some breakfast."

"Oh yeah," Ronny said. "And then we can go see the mound."

"Clarence and I already walked over there. Now I want to see how you feel when you go over there," Mark said.

"The stone will speak to me," Ronny said.

"How do you know that?" Mark asked.

Ronny shrugged. "I just know."

It was only the close family now; the cousins had gone home the night before. It was still a bit crowded with ten people around the table, but Janice had made a large platter of scrambled eggs with sausage and another was heaped with pancakes.

"Saw you out walking earlier," Warren said. "Went to visit the mound, did you?"

Mark nodded in Clarence's direction. "Scientific people are always curious."

"Don't blame you," Warren said. "Sally said you would be interested in it. The Seneca stay away from it; we think it's a nice pile of dirt."

"You don't get any creepy feelings from it?" Mark asked.

"No, why should I? It's probably an ancient foundation for a long house; they buried chiefs in the floors of those things. Might be someone inside there, might not, but they don't bother me."

Janice laughed. "We don't see any ghostly spirits floating about. I don't think there are any Oneida ancestors in there."

"No, that's true, they would be from a much more ancient tribal group," Clarence said.

"I think they were called the Hopewell people," Alan said.

Ronny looked at his brother. "Wow, good going, Al. See, you do know something about the old ways."

"He's right," Clarence said.

"We'll go over there after breakfast," Warren said.

An hour later they took the same road and the path leading up to the mound. Warren and Sally were joking with the kids about magic squirrels who lived in the mound; Mark didn't take his eyes off Ronny. The boy approached the mound thoughtfully and stood at the base. Alan and the other kids climbed the slope to the top.

"See any ghosts up there?" Warren yelled.

"Just flowers and bugs," Alan called back.

Ronny made the climb and stood at the edge looking down the length, Mark was right beside him. Clarence had remained behind with the adults. Mark watched the expression on Ronny's face and saw the boy close his eyes.

A serene expression came to his face and he slowly held his hands out in front of him.

"It's here," Ronny whispered. "The stone is here."

Mark felt a chill go down his spine. The boy was communicating with the sacred stone.

"Yes," Ronny finally said and opened his eyes. "The stone knows I am here ... the sacred power is still alive."

"We can't touch it yet," Mark said.

"I know, we have to get permission," Ronny replied.

"Clarence wants to look for the document and then we can speak with the Seneca elders about digging."

"Oh, I meant the Great Mother must allow me to pray and remove the protection. Great harm will come to those who touch it unless the spirits are allowed to sleep, I can do that."

"Where will they sleep, Ronny?"

"In me ... I will keep them safe until it is time for the stone to rest."

Mark shuddered. The boy had said he would keep them safe ... who would keep Ronny safe? They climbed down from the mound listening to the other kids running through the woods. Mark gave Clarence a nod and he smiled.

"Warren ... Sally, let's go back to the house, we need to talk," Clarence said.

The kids were left to mind themselves as Warren, his wife, and Sally sat down in the old living quarters. This had been the room where Gran had foretold of Ronny's abilities and gift, it was the best place to tell the story. Mark, Ronny and Clarence each had a piece of the tale to tell.

"You might as well hear the truth from us," Mark said. "Very soon the world will know what lies in that mound across the road. It will bring glory to the Oneida people ... "

And so the whole business was discussed. Sally sat quietly and held Ronny's hand. She had known he was destined for greatness, and now she knew why. Warren and Janet sat quietly and in the end were doubtful that anything so grand could happen in this little place.

"You think people will come here to see the stone?" Warren asked.

"It doesn't belong to anyone unless you make a claim," Clarence said. "It's a relic of another time, but the Oneida will have control over it."

"It's on Seneca land, they won't give it up."

"Actually, Warren, I think the Seneca are on Oneida land and specifically land belonging to the Pebbles family," Mark said.

"You're kidding? You mean we could kick them off?"

Clarence smiled. "Now why would you do that? You've been at peace with them for more than a century."

"Yeah, I suppose. Wait until I tell Terry Hunter about this, he's their chief at the moment."

"Papa, be nice," Janet said. "Will outsiders come here to see the stone?"

Clarence sighed. "I think the stone's ownership will be contested for decades. The Seneca are in possession now, your family used to own the land if we can prove that. But then we have the State of New York and the Federal Government involved because it's on reservation land. Artifacts like that are rarely in private hands."

"It's a standing stone, a big rock ... what's so special about that?" Warren asked.

"That remains to be seen, but we believe there's writing on it thousands of years old. It could open up a whole new train of thought on who came to the Americas first. Your ancestors and mine were here to witness the stone's arrival. It must have been a very sacred moment in their lives."

"And what's that got to do with our cellar?" Janet asked.

"The document might be there, we need to find that paper. I have a friend in the Library of Congress researching your land grant, but if we have an original copy in George Washington's handwriting ... it sure would make life easier," Clarence said.

Warren grinned. "You want to tear up the floor right now?"

Clarence laughed. "And ruin all your handiwork? No, the cellar is probably filled with small interesting objects; we can look for them later. But that hearth ... have you ever moved those stones?"

"Uh ... no, never," Warren said. He got up and walked over to the hearth. "I bet they weigh a hundred pounds apiece."

"I think that's an illusion, can we move one?" Clarence asked.

"Sure, knock yourself out."

Mark and Clarence ran their hands over the center stone looking for some leverage. There was a groove facing the firebox which allowed them a finger hold.

"It will slide towards us, be careful," Clarence said, and they pulled.

The stone moved a bit with a grinding sound as years of ash had caked in the joints along the side. "One ... two ... three," Mark said and they both pulled harder. The flat stone slid forward until it reached its midpoint and then it tilted upright against the base of stones in front. Mark looked over into the cavity and smiled. "There's a long wooden box ... "


On to the Epilogue

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"A Warrior's Promise" is © 2010 by Chris James.
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