James K. Warden 31
Sargent St. Dorchester, Mass.
THE PIONEERS, OR THE SOURCES OF THE SUSQUEHANNA; A DESCRIPTIVE TALE. BY
THE AUTHOR OF “PRECAUTION.” “Extremes
of habits, manners, time and space,
Brought close together,
here stood face to face,
And gave at once a
contrast to the view,
That other lands and
ages never knew.”
“Away! nor let me
loiter in my song,
For we have many a
mountain path to tread.”
Byron
As the spring gradually
approached, the immense piles of snow, that, by alternate thaws and frosts, and
repeated storms, had obtained a firmness that threatened a tiresome durability,
begun to yield to the influence of milder breezes and a warmer sun. The gates
of Heaven, at times, seemed to open, and a bland air diffused itself over the
earth, when animate and inanimate nature would awaken, and, for a few hours,
the gayety of spring shone in every eye, and smiled on every field. But the
shivering blasts from the north would carry their chill influence over the
scene again, and the dark and gloomy clouds that intercepted the rays of the
sun, were not more cold and dreary, than the re-action which crossed the
creation. These struggles between the seasons became, daily, more frequent,
while the earth, like a victim to contention, slowly lost the animated
brilliancyof winter, without obtaining the decided aspect of spring.
Several weeks were
consumed in this cheerless manner, during which the inhabitants of the country
gradually changed their pursuits from the social and bustling movements of the
time of snow, to the laborious and domestic engagements of the coming season.
The village was no longer thronged with visiters; the trade, that had enlivened
the shops for several months, begun to disappear; the highways lost their
shining coats of beaten snow in impassable sloughs, and were deserted by the
gay and noisy travellers who, in sleighs, had, during the winter, glided along
their windings; and, in short, every thing seemed indicative of a mighty
change, not only in the earth itself, but in those, also, who derived their
sources of comfort and happiness from her bosom.
The younger members of
the family in the Mansion-house, of which Louisa Grant was now habitually one,
were by no means indifferent observers of these fluctuating and tardy changes.
While the snow rendered the roads passable, they had partaken largely in the
amusements of the winter, which included not only daily rides over the
mountains, and through every valley within twenty miles of them, but divers
ingenious and varied sources of pleasure, on the bosom of their frozen lake.
There had been rides in the equipage of Richard, when, with his four horses, he
had outstripped the winds with its speed, as it flew over the glassy ice which
invariably succeeded a thaw. Then the exciting and dangerous “whirligig” would
be suffered to possess its moment of notice. Cutters, drawn by a single horse,
and hand-sleds, impelled by the gentlemen, on skates, would each in their turn
be used; and, in short, every source of relief against the tediousness ofa
winter in the mountains, was resorted to by the family. Elizabeth was compelled
to acknowledge to her father, that the season, with the aid of his library, was
much less irksome than she had an- ticipated.
As exercise in the open
air, was in some de- gree necessary to the habits of the family, when the
constant recurrence of frosts and thaws ren- dered the roads, which were
dangerous, at the most favourable times, utterly impassable for wheels,
saddle-horses were used as substitutes for their other conveyances. Mounted on
small and sure-footed beasts, the ladies would again attempt the passages of
the mountains, and penetrate into every retired glen, where the enterprise of a
set- tler had induced him to establish himself. In these excursions they were
attended by some one or all of the gentlemen of the family, as their dif-
ferent pursuits admitted. Young Edwards was hourly becoming more familiarized
to his situa- tion, and not unfrequently mingled in their par- ties, with an
unconcern and gayety, that, for a short time, would, apparently, expel all
unplea- sant recollections from his mind. Habit, and the buoyancy of youth,
seemed to be getting the as- cendancy over the secret causes of his uneasiness;
though there were moments, when the same re- markable expression of disgust,
would cross his intercourse with Marmaduke, that had distin- guished their
conversations in the first days of their acquaintance.
It was at the close of
the month of March, that the Sheriff succeeded in persuading his cousin and her
young friend to accompany him in a ride to a hill, that was said to overhang
the lake, in a manner peculiar to itself.
"Besides, cousin
Bess," continued the indefati- gable Richard "we will stop and see
the ’sugarbush’ of Billy Kirby: he is on the east end of the Ransom lot, making
sugar for Jared Ransom. There is not a better hand over a kettle in the county,
than that same Kirby. You remember, ’duke, that I had him his first season, in
our own camp; and it is not a wonder that he knows something of his trade.”
“He’s a good chopper,
is Billy,” observed Benjamin, who held the bridle of the horse while the
Sheriff mounted; “and he handles an axe, much the same as a forecastle-man does
his marling spike, or a tailor his goose. They say he’ll lift a potash kettle
off the arch with his own hands, thof I can’t say that I’ve ever seen him do it
with my own eyes; but that is the say. And I’ve seen sugar of his making,
which, maybe, was’nt as white as an old top-gallantsail, but which my friend
Mistress Pretty-bones, within there, said, had the true molasses smack to it;
and you are not the one, Squire Dickens, to be told that Mistress Remarkable
has a remarkable tooth for sweet things in her nut-grinder.”
The loud laugh that
succeeded the wit of Benjamin, and in which he participated, with no very
harmonious sounds, himself, very fully illustrated the congenial temper which
existed between the pair. Most of its point was, however, lost on the rest of
the party, who were either mounting their horses, or assisting the ladies to do
so, at the moment. When all were safely in their saddles, the whole moved
through the village in great order. They paused for a moment, before the door
of Monsieur Le Quoi, until he could bestride his steed, and then, issuing from
the little cluster of houses, they took one of the principal of those highways,
that centered in the village.
As each night brought
with it a severe frost, which the heat of the succeeding day served
todissipate, the equestrians were compelled to proceed singly, along the margin
of the road, where the turf, and firmness of the ground, gave their horses a
secure footing. Very trifling indications of approaching vegetation were to be
seen, the surface of the earth presenting a cold, wet, and cheerless aspect,
that almost chilled the blood of the spectator. The snow yet lay scattered over
most of those distant clearings that were visible in different parts of the
mountains; though here and there an opening might be seen, where, as the white
covering yielded to the season, the bright and lively green of the wheat served
to enkindle the hopes of the husbandman. Nothing could be more marked, than the
contrast between the earth and the heavens; for, while the former presented the
dreary view that we have described, a warm and invigorating sun was dispensing
his heats, from a sky that contained but a solitary could, that lingered near
the mountain, and through an atmosphere that softened the colours of the
sensible horizon, until it shone like a sea of virgin blue.
Richard led the way, on
this, as on all other occassions, that did not require the exercise of unusual
abilities; and as he moved along, he essayed to enliven the party with the
sounds of his experienced voice.
“This is your true
sugar weather, ’duke,” he cried; “A frosty night and a sunshiny day. I warrant
me that the sap runs like a mill-tail up the maples, this warm morning. It is a
pity, Judge, that you do not introduce a little more science into the
manufactory of sugar, among your tenants. It might be done, sir, without
knowing as much as Dr. Franklin--it might be done, Judge Temple.”
“The first object of my
solicitude, friendJones,” returned Marmaduke, “is to protect the sources of
this great mine of comfort and wealth, from the extravagance of the people
themselves. When this important point shall be achieved, it will be in season
to turn our attention to an improvement in the manufacture of the article. But
thou knowest, Richard, that I have already subjected our sugar to the process
of the refiner, and that the result has produced loaves as white as the snow on
yon fields, and possessing the saccharine quality in its utmost purity.”
“Saccharine, or
turpentine, or any other ’ine, Judge Temple, you have never made a loaf larger
than a good sized sugar-plum,” returned the Sheriff. “Now, sir, I assert, that
no experiment is fairly tried, until it be reduced to practical purposes. If,
sir, I owned a hundred, or, for that matter, two hundred thousand acres of
land, as you do, I would build a sugar-house in the village; I would invite
learned men to an investigation of the subject,--and such are easily to be
found, sir; yes, sir, they are not difficult to find,-- men who unite theory
with practice; and I would select a wood of young and thrifty trees; and,
instead of making loaves of the size of a lump of candy, dam’me, ’duke, but I’d
have them as big as a hay-cock.”
“And purchase the cargo
of one of those ships that, they say, are going to China,” cried Elizabeth; “turn
your potash-kettles into tea-cups, the scows on the lake into saucers: bake
your cake in yonder lime-kiln, and invite the county to a tea-party. How
wonderful are the projects of genius! Really, sir, the world is of opinion that
Judge Temple has tried the experiment fairly, though he did not cause his
loaves to be cast in moulds of the magnitude the would suit your magnificent
conceptions.”
“You may laugh, cousin
Elizabeth--you may laugh, madam,” retorted Richard, turning himself so much in
his saddle as to face the party, and making extremely dignified gestures with
his whip; “but I appeal to common sense, good sense, or, what is of more
importance than either, to the sense of taste, which is one of the five natural
senses, whether a big loaf of sugar is not likely to contain a better
illustration of a proposition, than such a lump as one of your Dutch women puts
under her tongue when she drinks her tea. There are two ways of doing every
thing; the right way, and the wrong way. You make sugar now, I will admit, and
you may, possibly, make loaf-sugar; but I take the question to be, whether you
make the best possible sugar, and into the best possible loaves.”
“Thou art very right,
Richard,” observed Marmaduke, with a gravity in his air, that proved how much
he was interested in the subject. “It is very true that we manufacture sugar,
but the inquiry is quite useful to make, how much? and in what manner? I hope
to live to see the day, when farms and plantations shall be devoted to this
branch of business. Little is known concerning the properties of the tree
itself, the source of all this wealth; how much it may be improved by
cultivation, by the use of the hoe and plough.”
“Hoe and plough,”
roared the Sheriff;-- would you set a man hoeing round the root of a maple like
this,”--pointing to one of those noble trees, that occur so frequently in that
part of the country.--“Hoeing trees! are you mad, ’duke? This is next to
hunting for coal! Poh! poh! my dear cousin, hear reason, and leave the
management of the sugar-bush to me. Here is Mr. Le Quoi, he has been in the
West-Indies, and seen sugar made often. Let him give an accountof how it is
made there, and you will hear the philosophy of the thing.--Well, Monsieur, how
is it that you make sugar in the West-Indies; any thing in Judge Temple’s
fashion?”
The gentleman to whom
this query was put, was mounted on a small horse, of no very fiery temperament,
and was riding with his stirrups so short, as to bring his knees, while the
animal rose a small ascent in the wood-path they were now travelling, into a
somewhat hazardous vicinity to his chin. There was no room for gesticulation or
grace in the delivery of his reply, for the mountain was steep and slippery;
and although the Gaul had an eye of uncommon magnitude on either side of his
face, they did not seem to be half competent to forewarn him of the impediments
of bushes, twigs, and fallen trees, that were momentarily crossing his path.
With one hand employed in averting these dangers, and the other grasping his
bridle, to check an untoward speed that his horse was assuming, the native of
France responded as follows--
“Sucre! dey do make eet
in Martinique: mais --mais eet is not from von tree; eet is from--ah-- ah--vat
you call--Je voudrois que ces chemins fussent au diable--vat you call--von
steeck pour le promenade.”
“Cane,” said Elizabeth,
smiling at the imprecation which the wary Frenchman supposed was understood
only by himself.
“Oui, Mam’selle, cane.”
“Yes, yes,” cried
Richard, “cane is the vulgar name for it, but the real term is saccharum
officinarum: and what we call the sugar, or hard maple, is acer saccharinum. These
are the learned names, Monsieur, and are such as, doubtless, you well
understand.”
“Is this Greek or
Latin, Mr. Edwards?” whispered the heiress to the youth, who was opening a
passage for herself and her companion through the bushes--“or perhaps it is a
still more learned language, for an interpretation of which we must look to
you.”
The dark eye of the
young man glanced towards the maiden, with a keenness bordering on ferocity;
but its expression changed, in a moment, to the smiling playfulness of her own
face, as he answered--
“I shall remember your
doubts, Miss Temple, when next I visit my old friend Mohegan, and either his
skill, or that of Leather-stocking, shall solve them.”
“And are you, then,
really ignorant of their language?” asked Elizabeth, with an impetuosity that
spoke a lively interest in the reply.
“Not absolutely; but
the deep learning of Mr. Jones is more familiar to me, or even the polite
masquerade of Monsieur Le Quoi.”
“Do you speak French?”
said the lady, with a quickness that equalled her former interest.
“It is a common
language with the Iroquois, and through the Canadas,” he answered, with an
equivocal smile.
“Ah! but they are
Mingoes, and your enemies.”
“It will be well for
me, if I have no worse,” said the youth, dashing ahead with his horse, and thus
putting an end to the evasive dialogue.
The discourse, however,
was maintained with great vigour by Richard, until they reached an open wood on
the summit of the mountain, where the hemlocks and pines totally disappeared, and
a grove of the very trees that formed the subject of debate, covered the earth
with their tall, straight trunks and spreading branches, in stately pride. The
underwood had been entirely removed fromthis grove, or bush, as, in conjunction
with the simple arrangements for boiling, it was called, and a wide space of
many acres was cleared, which might be likened to the dome of a mighty temple,
to which the maples, with their stems, formed the columns, their tops composing
the capitals, and the heavens the arch. A deep and careless incision had been
made into each tree, near its root, into which little spouts, formed of the
bark of the alder, or of the sumach, were fastened; and a trough, roughly dug
out of the linden, or bass-wood, was lying at the root of each tree, to catch
the sap that flowed from this extremely wasteful and inartificial arrangement.
The party paused a
moment, on gaining the flat, to breathe their horses, and, as the scene was
entirely new to several of their number, to view the manner of collecting the
fluid. A fine, powerful voice aroused them from their momentary silence, as it
rung under the branches of the trees, singing the following words of that
inimitable doggrel, whose verses, if extended, would reach from the waters of
the Connecticut to the shores of Ontario. The tune was, of course, that
familiar air, which, although it is said to have been first applied to his
nation in derision, circumstances have since rendered so glorious, that no
American ever hears its jingling cadence, without feeling a thrill at his
heart.
“The Eastern States be
full of men,
The Western full of woods, sir! The
hills be like a cattle pen,
The roads be full of goods, sir! Then
flow away, my sweety sap,
And I will make you boily; Nor
catch a woodman’s hasty nap,
For fear you should get roily.
“The maple tree’s a
precious one,
’Tis fuel, food, and timber; And
when your stiff day’s work is done,
Its juice will make you limber. Then flow away, &c. “And what’s a man without his glass,
His wife without her tea, sir? But
neither cup nor mug would pass,
Without this honey-bee, sir! Then flow away,” &c. During the execution of this sonorous ditty,
Richard kept time with his whip on the mane of his charger, accompanying the
gestures with a corresponding movement of his head and body. Towards the close
of the song, he was overheard humming the chorus, and at its last repetition,
to strike in at “sweety sap,” and carry a second through, with a prodigious
addition to the “effect” of the noise, if not to that of the harmony.
“Well done us!” roared
the Sheriff, on the same key with the tune; “a very good song, Billy Kirby, and
very well sung. Where got you the words, lad? is there more of it, and can you
furnish me with a copy?”
The sugar-boiler, who
was busy in his “camp,” at a short distance from the equestrians, turned his
head with great indifference, and surveyed the party, as they approached, with
admirable coolness. To each individual, as he or she rode close by him, he gave
a nod that was extremely goodnatured and affable, but which partook largely of
the virtue of equality, for not even to the ladies did he in the least vary his
mode of salutation, by touching the apology for a hat that he wore, or by any
other motion than the one we have mentioned.
“How goes it, how goes
it, Sheriff?” said the wood-chopper; “what’s the good word to-day?”
“Why, much as usual,
Billy,” returned Richard. “But how is this! where are your four kettles, and
your troughs, and your iron coolers? Do you make sugar in this slovenly way! I
thought you were one of the best sugar-boilers in the county.”
“I’m all that, Squire
Jones,” said Kirby, who continued his occupation; “I’ll turn my back to no man
in the Otsego hills, for chopping and logging; for boiling down the maple sap: for
tending brick-kiln; splitting out rails; making potash, and parling too; or
hoeing corn. Though I keep myself, pretty much, to the first business, seeing
that the axe comes most nateral to me.”
“You be von Jack
All-trade, Mister Beel,” said Monsieur Le Quoi.
“How?” said Kirby,
looking up, with a simplicity which, coupled with his gigantic frame and manly
face, was a little ridiculous--“if you be for trade, Mounsher, here is some as
good sugar as you’ll find the season through. It’s as clear from dirt as the
Garman Flats is from stumps, and it has the raal maple flavour. Such stuff
would sell in York for candy.”
The Frenchman
approached the place where Kirby had deposited his cakes of sugar, under the
cover of a bark roof, and commenced the examination of the article, with the
eye of one who well understood its value. Marmaduke had dismounted, and was
viewing the works and the trees very closely, and not without frequent
expressions of dissatisfaction, at the careless manner in which the manufacture
was conducted.
“You have much
experience in these things, Kirby,” he said; “what is the course you pursue in
making your sugar? I see that you have but two kettles.”
“Two is as good as two
thousand, Judge; I’mnone of your polite sugar-makers, that boils for the great
folks; but if the raal sweet maple is wanted, I can answer your turn. First, I
choose, and then I tap my trees; say along about the last of February, or in
these mountains, maybe not afore the middle of March; but any way, just as the
sap begins to cleverly run--”
“Well, in this choice,”
interrupted Marmaduke, “are you governed by any outward signs, that prove the
quality of the tree?”
“Why, there’s judgment
in all things,” said Kirby, stirring the liquor in his kettles briskly. “There’s
something in knowing when and how much to stir the pot. It’s a thing that must
be larnt. Rome wasn’t built in a day, nor, for that matter, Templetown ’ither,
though it may be said to be a quick-growing place. I never put my axe into a
stunty tree, or one that has’nt a good, fresh-looking bark; for trees have
disorders just like creaters; and where’s the policy of taking a tree that’s
sickly, any more than you’d choose a foundered horse to ride post, or an
overheated ox to do your logging--”
“All this is true; but
what are your signs of illness? how do you distinguish a tree that is well from
one that is diseased?”
“How does the doctor
tell who has fever, and who colds?” interrupted Richard--“by examining the
skin, and feeling the pulse, to be sure.”
“Sartain,” continued
Billy; “the Squire a’nt far out of the way. It’s by the look of the thing, sure
enough.--Well, when the sap begins to get a free run, I hang over the kettles,
and set up the bush. My first boiling I push pretty smart, till I get the
vartoo of the sap; but when it begins to grow of a molasses nater, like this in
the kettle, one musn’t drive the fires too hard, or you’ll burn the sugar; and
burny sugar is always bad to thetaste, let it be never so sweet. So you ladle
out from one kettle into the other, till it gets so, when you put the stirring
stick into it, that it will draw into a thread; when it takes a kerful hand to
manage it. There is a way to drain it off, after it has grained, by putting
clay into the pans; but it is’nt always practysed: some doos, and some doosn’t.--Well,
Mounsher, be we likely to make a trade?”
“I vill give you,
Mister Beel, for von pound-- dix sous.”
“No; I expect cash for’t;
I never dicker away my sugar. But, seeing that it’s you, Mounsher,” said Billy,
with a coaxing smile, “I’ll agree to take a gallon of rum, and cloth enough for
two shirts, if you will take the molasses in the bargain. It’s raal good. I
wouldn’t deceive you or any man; and to my drinking, it’s about the best
molasses I ever seed come out of a sugar-bush.”
“Mr. Le Quoi has
offered you ten pence,” said young Edwards.
The manufacturer stared
at the speaker, with an air of great freedom, but made no reply.
“Oui,” said the
Frenchman, “ten penny. Je vous remercie, Monsieur; ah! mon Anglois! je l’oublie
toujours.”
The wood-chopper looked
from one to the other, with some displeasure; and evidently imbibed the opinion
that they were amusing themselves at his expense. He seized the enormous ladle,
which was lying in one of his kettles, and began to stir the boiling liquid
with great diligence. After a moment, passed in dipping the ladle full, and
then raising it on high, as the thick, rich fluid fell back into the kettle, he
suddenly gave it a whirl, as if to cool what yet remained, and offered the bowl
to Mr. Le Quoi, saying--
“Taste that, Mounsher,
and I guess you willsay it is worth more than you offer. The molasses itself
would fetch twice the money.”
The complaisant
Frenchman, after several timid efforts to trust his lips in contact with the
bowl of the ladle, got a good swallow of the scalding liquid. He clapped his
hand on his breast, and looked most piteously at the ladies, for a single
instant, and then, to use the language of Billy, when he afterwards recounted
the tale, “no drum-sticks ever went faster on the skin of a sheep, than the
Frenchman’s legs, for a round or two: and then, such swearing and spitting, in
French, you never seen. But it’s a knowing one, from the old countries, that
thinks to get his jokes smoothly over a Yankee wood-chopper.”
The air of innocence
with which Kirby resumed the occupation of stirring the contents of his kettle,
would have completely deceived the spectators, as to his agency in the
temporary suffering of Mr. Le Quoi, had not the reckless fellow thrust his
tongue into his cheek, and cast his eyes over the party, with a simplicity of
expression that was too exquisite to be true to nature. Mr. Le Quoi soon
recovered his presence of mind, and his decorum; he briefly apologized to the
ladies for one or two very intemperate expressions, that had escaped him in a
moment of extraordinary excitement, and remounting his horse, he continued in
the back-ground during the remainder of their visit, the wit of Kirby putting a
violent termination, at once, to all negociations on the subject of trade.
During all this time, Marmaduke had been wandering about the grove, making his
observations on his favourite trees, and the wasteful manner in which the
wood-chopper conducted his manufacture.
“It grieves me to
witness the extravagance that pervades this country,” said the Judge, “wherethe
settlers trifle with the blessings they might enjoy, with the prodigality of
successful adventurers. You are not exempt from the censure yourself, Kirby,
for you make dreadful wounds in these trees, where a small incision would
effect the same object. I earnestly beg you will remember, that they are the
growth of centuries, and when once gone, none living will see their loss
remedied.”
“Why, I don’t know,
Judge,” returned the man he addressed: “It seems to me, if there’s a plenty of
any thing in this mountaynious country, it’s the trees. If there’s any sin in
chopping them, I’ve a pretty heavy account to settle; for I’ve chopped over the
best half of a thousand acres, with my own hands, counting both Varmount and
York states; and I hope to live to finish the whull, before I lay up my axe.
Chopping comes quite nateral to me, and I wish no other empl’yment; but Jared
Ransom said that he thought the sugar was likely to be scurce this season,
seeing that so many folks was coming into the settlement, and so I concluded to
take the ‘bush’ on sheares, for this one spring. What’s the best news, Judge,
concarning ashes? do pots hold so that a man can live by them still? I s’pose
that they will if they keep on fighting.”
“Thou reasonest with
judgment, William,” returned Marmaduke. “So long as the old world is to be
convulsed with wars, so long will the harvest in America continue.”
“Well, it’s an ill
wind, Judge, that blows nobody any good. I’m sure the country is in a thriving
way; and, though I know you calkilate greatly on the trees, setting as much
store by them as some men would by their children, yet, to my eyes they are a
sore sight at any time, unless I’m privileged to work my will on them; inwhich
case, I can’t say but they are more to my liking. I have heern the settlers
from the old countries say, that their rich men keep great oaks and elms, that
would make a barrel of pots to the tree, standing round their doors and
humsteads, and scattered over their farms, just to look on. Now, I call no
country much improved, that is pretty well covered with trees. Stumps are a
different thing, for they don’t shade the land; and besides, if you dig them,
they make a fence that will turn any thing bigger than a hog, being grand for
breachy cattle.”
“Our notions on such
subjects vary much, in different countries,” said Marmaduke; but it is not as
ornaments that I value the noble trees of this country; it is for their
usefulness. We are stripping the forests, as if a single year would replace
what we destroy. But the hour approaches, when the laws will take notice of not
only the woods but the game they contain also.”
With this consoling
reflection, Marmaduke remounted, and the equestrians passed the sugarcamp, on
their way to the promised landscape of Richard. The wood-chopper was left
alone, in the bosom of the forest, to pursue his labours. Elizabeth turned her
head, when they reached the point where they were to descend the mountain, and
thought that the slow fires, that were glimmering under his enormous kettles,
his little brush shelter, covered with pieces of hemlock bark, his gigantic
size, as he wielded his ladle with a steady and knowing air, aided by the
back-ground of stately trees, with their spouts and troughs, formed altogether,
no unreal picture of human life in its first stages of civilization. Perhaps
whatever the scene possessed of a romantic character was not injured by the
powerful tones of Kirby’s voice, ringing through the woods, as he again awoke
hisstrains to another tune, which was but little more scientific than the
former. All that she understood of the words, were--
“And when the proud
forest is falling,
To my oxen cheerfully
calling,
From morn until night I
am bawling,
Woe, back there, and boy and gee; Till
our labour is mutually ended,
By my strength and
cattle befriended,
And against the
musquitoes defended,
“Speed! Malise, speed!
such cause of haste
Thine active sinews
never brac’d.”
Scott
The roads of Otsego, if
we except the principal highways, were, at the early day of our tale, but little
better than wood-paths of unusual width. The high trees that were growing on
the very verge of the wheel-tracks, excluded the sun’s rays, unless at
meridian, and the slowness of the evaporation, united with the rich mould of
vegetable decomposition, that covered the whole county, to the depth of several
inches, occasioned but an indifferent foundation for the footing of travellers.
Added to these, there were the inequalities of a natural surface, and the
constant recurrence of enormous and slippery roots, that were laid bare by the
removal of the light soil, together with stumps of trees, to make a passage not
only difficult but dangerous. Yet the riders, among these numerous
obstructions, which were such as would terrify an unpractised eye, gave no demonstrations
of uneasiness, as their horses toiled through the sloughs, or trotted with
uncertain paces along their dark route. In many places, the marks on the trees
were the only indications of a road, with,perhaps, an occasional remnant of a
pine, that, by being cut close to the earth, so as to leave nothing visible but
its base of roots, spreading for twenty feet in every direction, was apparently
placed there as a beacon, to warn the traveller that it was the centre of the
highway.
Into one of these roads
the active Sheriff led the way, first striking out of the footpath, by which
they had descended from the sugar-bush, across a little bridge, formed of round
logs laid loosely on sleepers of pine, in which large openings were frequent,
and in one instance, of a formidable width. The nag of Richard, when it reached
this barrier, laid its nose along the logs, and stepped across the difficult
passage with the sagacity of a man; but the blooded filly which Miss Temple
rode disdained so humble a movement. She made a step or two with an unusual
caution, and then, on reaching the broadest opening, obedient to the curb and
whip of her fearless mistress, she bounded across the dangerous pass, with the
activity of a squirrel.
“Gently, gently, my
child,” said Marmaduke, who was following in the manner of Richard-- “this is
not a country for equestrian feats. Much prudence is requisite, to journey
through our rough paths with safety. Thou mayst practise thy skill in
horsemanship on the plains of New-Jersey, with safety, but in the hills of
Otsego, they must be suspended for a time.”
“I may as well, then,
relinquish my saddle at once, dear sir,” returned his daughter; “for if it is
to be laid aside until this wild country be improved, old age will overtake me,
and put an end to what you term my equestrian feats.”
“Say not so, my child,”
returned her father; “but if thou venturest again, as in crossing this bridge,
old age will never overtake thee, but Ishall be left to mourn thee, cut off in
thy pride, my Elizabeth. If thou hadst seen this district of country, as I did,
when it lay in the sleep of nature, and witnessed its rapid changes, as it
awoke to supply the wants of man, thou wouldst curb thy impatience for a little
time, though thou shouldst not check thy steed.”
“I have a remembrance
of hearing you speak, sir, of your first visit to these woods, but the
recollection of it is faint, and blended with the confused images of childhood.
Wild and unsettled as it may yet seem, it must have been a thousand times more
dreary then. Will you repeat, dear sir, what you then thought of your
enterprise, and what you felt?”
During this speech of
Elizabeth, which was uttered with the interested fervour of affection, young
Edwards rode more closely to the side of the Judge, and bent his dark eyes on
his countenance, with an expression that seemed to read his thoughts.
“Thou wast then young,
my child, but must remember when I left thee and thy mother, to take my first
survey of these uninhabited mountains,” said Marmaduke. “But thou dost not feel
all the secret motives that can urge a man to endure privations in order to
accumulate wealth. In my case they have not been trifling, and God has been
pleased to smile on my efforts. If I have encountered pain, famine, and
disease, in accomplishing the settlement of this rough territory, I have not
the misery of failure to add to the grievances.”
“Famine!” echoed
Elizabeth; “I thought this was the land of abundance! had you famine to contend
with?”
“Even so, my child,”
said her father. “Those who look around them now, and see the loads ofproduce
that issue out of every wild path in these mountains, during the season of
travelling, will hardly credit that no more than five years have elapsed, since
the tenants of these woods were compelled to eat the scanty fruits of the
forest to sustain life, and, with their unpractised skill, to hunt the beasts
as food for their starving families.”
“Ay!” cried Richard,
who happened to overhear the last of this speech, between the notes of the
wood-chopper’s song, which he was endeavouring to breathe aloud; “that was the
starving-time, cousin Bess. I grew as lank as a weasel that fall, and my face
was as pale as one of your fever-and-ague visages. Monsieur Le Quoi, there,
fell away like a pumpkin in drying; nor do I think you have got fairly over it
yet, Monsieur. Benjamin, I thought, bore it with a worse grace than any of the
family, for he swore it was harder to endure than a short allowance in the calm
latitudes. Benjamin is a sad fellow to swear, if you starve him ever so little.
I had half a mind to quit you then, ’duke, and go into Pennsylvania to fatten;
but, damn it, thinks I, we are sisters’ children, and I will live or die with
him, after all.”
“I do not forget thy
kindness,” said Marmaduke, “nor that we are of one blood.”
“But, my dear father,”
cried the wondering Elizabeth, “was there actual suffering? where were the
beautiful and fertile vales of the Mohawk? could they not furnish food for your
wants?”
“It was a season of
scarcity; the necessities of life commanded a high price in Europe, and were
greedily sought after by the speculators. The emigrants, from the east to the
west, invariably passed along the valley of the Mohawk, and swept away the
means of subsistence, like a swarm of locusts. Nor were the people on the Flats
ina much better condition. They were in want themselves, but they spared the
little excess of provisions, that nature did not absolutely require, with the
justice of the German character. There was no grinding of the poor. The word
speculator was then unknown to them. I have seen many a stout man, bending
under the load of the bag of meal, which he was carrying from the mills of the
Mohawk, through the rugged passes of these mountains, to feed his half-famished
children, with a heart so light, as he approached his hut, that the thirty
miles he had passed seemed nothing. Remember, my child, it was in our very
infancy: we had neither mills, nor grain, nor roads, nor often clearings;--we
had nothing of increase, but the mouths that were to be fed; for, even at that
inauspicious moment, the restless spirit of emigration was not idle; nay, the
general scarcity, which extended to the east, tended to increase the number of
adventurers.”
“And how, dearest
father, didst thou encounter this dreadful evil?” said Elizabeth, unconsciously
adopting the dialect of her parent, in the warmth of her sympathy. “Upon thee
must have fallen all the responsibility, if not the suffering.”
“It did, Elizabeth,”
returned the Judge, pausing for a single moment, as if musing on his former
feelings. “I had hundreds, at that dreadful time, daily looking up to me for
bread. The sufferings of their families, and the gloomy prospect before them,
had paralysed the enterprise and efforts of my settlers; hunger drove them to
the woods for food, but despair sent them, at night, enfeebled and wan, to a
sleepless pillow. It was not a moment for inaction. I purchased cargoes of
wheat from the granaries of Pennsylvania; they were landed at Albany, and
brought up the Mohawk in boats; from thence it was transported onpack-horses
into the wilderness, and distributed amongst my people. Seines were made, and
the lakes and rivers were dragged for fish. Something like a miracle was
wrought in our favour, for enormous shoals of herring were discovered to have
wandered five hundred miles, through the windings of the impetuous Susquehanna,
and the lake was alive with their numbers. These were at length caught, and
dealt out to the people, with proper portions of salt; and from that moment, we
again began to prosper.”
“Yes,” cried Richard, “and
I was the man who served out both the fish and the salt. When the poor devils
came to receive their rations, Benjamin, who was my deputy, was obliged to keep
them off by stretching ropes around me, for they smelt so of garlic, from
eating nothing but the wild onion, that the fumes put me out, often, in my
measurement. You were a child then, Bess, and knew nothing of the matter, for
great care was observed to keep both you and your mother from suffering. That
year put me back, dreadfully, both in the breed of my hogs, and of my turkeys.”
“No, Bess,” cried the
Judge, in a more cheerful tone, utterly disregarding the interruption of his
cousin, “he who hears of the settlement of a country, knows but little of the
actual toil and suffering by which it is accomplished. Unimproved and wild as
this district now seems to your eyes, what was it when I first entered the
hills! I left my party, the morning of my arrival, back near the farms of the Cherry
Valley, and, following a deer-path, rode to the summit of the mountain, that I
have since called Mount Vision; for the sight that there met my eyes seemed to
me as the deceptions of a dream. The fire had run over the pinnacle, and, in a
great measure, laid openthe view. The leaves were fallen, and I mounted a tree,
and sat for an hour looking on the silent wilderness. Not an opening was to be
seen in the boundless forest, except where the lake lay, like a mirror of
glass. The water was covered by myriads of the wild-fowl that migrate with the
changes in the season; and, while in my situation on the branch of the beech, I
saw a bear, with her cubs, descend to the shore to drink. I had met many deer,
gliding through the woods, in my journey; but not the vestige of a man could I
trace, during my progress, nor from my elevated observatory. No clearing, no
hut, none of the winding roads that are now to be seen, were there, nothing but
mountains rising behind mountains, and the valley, with its surface of branches,
enlivened here and there with the faded foliage of some tree, that parted from
its leaves with more than ordinary reluctance. Even the little Susquehanna was
then hid, by the height and density of the forest.”
“And were you there
alone?” asked Elizabeth; “passed you the night in that solitary state?”
“Not so, my child,”
returned her father. “Atter musing on the scene for an hour, with a mingled
feeling of pleasure and desolation, I left my perch, and descended the
mountain. My horse was left to browse on the twigs that grew within his reach,
while I explored the shores of the lake, and the spot where Templeton stands. A
pine of more than ordinary growth stood where my dwelling is now placed! a
wind-row had been opened through the trees from thence to the lake, and my view
was but little impeded. Under the branches of that tree I made my solitary
dinner; I had just finished my repast as I saw a smoke curling from under the
mountain, near the easternbank of the lake. It was the only indication of the vicinity
of man that I had then seen. After much toil, I made my way to the spot, and
found a rough cabin of logs, built against the foot of a rock, and bearing the
marks of a tenant, though I found no one within it.--”
“It was the hut of
Leather-stocking,” said Edwards, quickly.
“It was; though I, at
first, supposed it to be a habitation of the Indians. But while I was lingering
around the spot, Natty made his appearance, staggering under the load of the
carcass of a buck that he had slain. Our acquaintance commenced at that time;
before, I had never heard that such a being tenanted the woods. He launched his
bark canoe, and set me across the foot of the lake, to the place where I had
fastened my horse, and pointed out a spot where he might get a scanty browsing
until the morning; when I returned and passed the night in the cabin of the
hunter.”
Miss Temple was so much
struck by the deep attention of young Edwards, during this speech, that she
forgot to resume her interrogatories; but the youth himself continued the
discourse, by asking, with a smile lurking around his features--
“And how did the
Leather-stocking discharge the duties of a host, sir?”
“Why, simply but
kindly, until late in the evening, when he discovered my name and object, and
the cordiality of his manner very sensibly diminished, or, I might better say,
disappeared. He considered the introduction of the settlers as an innovation on
his rights, I believe; for he expressed much dissatisfaction at the measure,
though it was in his confused and ambiguous manner. I hardly understood his
objections myself, butsuppose they referred chiefly to an interruption of the
hunting.”
“Had you then purchased
the estate, or were you examining it with an intent to buy?” asked Edwards, a
little abruptly.
It had been mine for
several years. It was with a view to people the land that I visited the lake.
Natty treated me hospitably, but coldly, I thought, after he learnt the nature
of my journey. I slept on his own bear-skin, however, and in the morning joined
my surveyors again.”
“Said he nothing of the
Indian rights, sir?” continued Edwards. “The Leather-stocking is much given to
impeach the justice of the tenure by which the whites hold the country.”
“I remember that he
spoke of them, but I did not clearly comprehend him, and may have forgotten
what he then said; for the Indian title was extinguished so far back as the
close of the old war; and if it had not been at all, I hold under the patents
of the Royal Governors, confirmed by an act of our own State Legislature, and
no court in our country can affect my title.”
“Doubtless, sir, your
title is both legal and equitable,” returned the youth, coldly, reining his
horse back, and remaining silent till the subject was changed.
It was seldom that Mr.
Jones suffered any conversation to continue, for a great length of time,
without his participation. It seems that he was of the party that Judge Temple
had designated as his surveyors; and he embraced the opportunity of the pause
that succeeded the retreat of young Edwards, to take up the discourse, and with
it a narration of their further proceedings, after his own manner. As it
wanted, however, the interest that had accompanied the description of the
Judge,we must decline the task of committing his sentences to paper.
They soon reached the
point where the promised view was to be seen. It was one of those picturesque
and peculiar scenes, that belong to the Otsego, but which required the absence
of the ice, and the softness of a summer’s landscape, to be enjoyed in all its
beauty. Marmaduke had early forewarned his daughter of the season, and of its
effect on the prospect, and after casting a cursory glance at its capabilities,
the party returned homeward, perfectly satisfied that its beauties would repay
them for the toil of a second ride, at a more propitious season.
“The spring is the
gloomy time of the American year,” said the Judge; and it is more peculiarly
the case in these mountains. The winter seems to retreat to the fastnesses of
the hills, as to the citadel of its dominion, and is only expelled, after a
tedious siege, in which either party, at times, would seem to be gaining the
victory.”
“A very just and
apposite figure, Judge Temple,” observed the Sheriff; “and the garrison under
the command of Jack Frost make formidable sorties--you understand what I mean
by sorties, Monsieur; sallies, in English--and sometimes drive General Spring
and his troops back again into the low countries.”
“Yes, sair,” returned
the Frenchman, whose prominent eyes were watching the precarious footsteps of
the beast he rode, as it picked its dangerous way among the roots of trees,
holes, logbridges, and sloughs, that formed the aggregate of the highway. “Je
vous entend; de low countrie, it ees freeze up for half de year.”
The error of Mr. Le
Quoi was not noticed by the Sheriff; and the rest of the party were yielding to
the influence of the changeful season, thatwas already teaching the equestrians
that a continuance of its mildness was not to be expected for any length of
time. Silence and thoughtfulness succeeded the gayety and conversation that had
prevailed during the commencement of their ride, as clouds began to gather
about the heavens, apparently collecting from every quarter, in quick motion,
without the agency of a breath of air.
While riding over one
of the cleared eminences that occurred in their route, the watchful eye of
Judge Temple pointed out to his daughter the approach of a tempest. Flurries of
snow already obscured the mountain that formed the northern boundary of the
lake, and the genial sensation which had quickened the blood through their
veins, was already succeeded by the deadening influence of an approaching
north-wester.
All of the party were
now busily engaged in making the best of their way to the village, though the
badness of the roads frequently compelled them to check the impatience of their
animals, which often carried them over places that would not admit of any gait
faster than a walk.
Richard continued in
advance, and was followed by Mr. Le Quoi; next to whom rode Elizabeth, who
seemed to have imbibed the distance which pervaded the manner of young Edwards,
since the termination of the discourse between the latter and her father.
Marmaduke followed his daughter, giving her frequent and tender warnings, as to
her safety, and the management of her horse. It was, possibly, the evident
dependance that Louisa Grant placed on his assistance, which induced the youth
to continue by her side, as they pursued their way through a dreary and dark
wood, where the rays of the sun could but rarely penetrate, and where even the
daylight was obscured and rendered gloomy by the deep foreststhat surrounded
them. No wind had yet reached the spot where the equestrians were in motion,
but that dead stillness that often precedes a storm, contributed to render
their situation more irksome than if they were already subjected to the fury of
the tempest. Suddenly the voice of young Edwards was heard shouting, in those
appalling tones that carry alarm to the very soul, and which curdle the blood
of those that hear them--
A tree! a tree!”
whip--spur for your lives! a tree! a tree!”
“A tree! a tree!”
echoed Richard, giving his horse a blow that caused the alarmed beast to jump
nearly a rod, throwing the mud and water into the air, like a hurricane.
“Von tree! von tree!”
shouted the Frenchman, bending his body on the neck of his charger, shutting
his eyes, and playing on the ribs of his beast with his heels, at a rate that
caused him to be conveyed, on the crupper of the Sheriff, with a marvellous
speed.
Elizabeth checked her
filly, and looked up, with an unconscious but alarmed air, at the very cause of
their danger, while she listened to the crackling sounds that awoke the
stillness of the forest; but, at the next instant, her bridle was seized by her
father, who cried--
“God protect my child!”
and she felt herself hurried onward, impelled by the vigour of his nervous arm.
Each one of the party
bowed to their saddlebows, as the tearing of branches was succeeded by a sound
like the rushing of the winds, which was followed by a thundering report, and a
shock that caused the very earth to tremble, as one of the noblest ruins in the
forest fell directly across their path.
One glance was enough
to assure Judge Temple that his daughter, and those in front of him, were safe,
and he turned his eyes, in dreadful anxiety, to learn the fate of the others.
Young Edwards was on the opposite side of the tree, with his form thrown back
in his saddle to its utmost distance, his left hand drawing up his bridle with
its greatest force, while the right grasped that of Miss Grant, so as to draw
the head of her horse under its body. Both the animals stood shaking in every
joint with terror, and snorting fearfully. The maiden herself had relinquished
her reins, and with her hands pressed on her face, sat bending forward in her
saddle, in an attitude of despair mingled strangely with resignation.
“Are you safe?” cried
the Judge, first breaking the awful silence of the moment.
“By God’s blessing,” returned
the youth; “but if there had been branches to the tree we must have been lost--”
He was interrupted by
the figure of Louisa, slowly yielding in her saddle; and but for his arm, she
would have sunken to the earth. Terror, however, was the only injury that the
clergyman’s daughter had sustained, and, with the aid of Elizabeth, she was
soon restored to her senses. After some little time was lost in recovering her
strength, the young lady was replaced in her saddle, and, supported on either
side by Judge Temple and Mr. Edwards, she was enabled to follow the party in
their slow progress.
“The sudden falling of
the trees,” said Marmaduke, “are the most dangerous of our accidents in the
forest, for they are not to be foreseen, being impelled by no winds, nor any
extraneous or visible cause, against which we can guard.”
“The reason of their
falling, Judge Temple, is very obvious,” said the Sheriff. “The tree isold and
decayed, and it is gradually weakened by the frosts, until a line drawn from
the centre of gravity falls without its base, and then the tree comes of a
certainty; and I should like to know, what greater compulsion there can be for
any thing, than a mathematical certainty. I studied mathe--”
“Very true, Richard,”
interrupted Marmaduke; “thy reasoning is true, and if my memory be not over
treacherous, was furnished by myself on a former occasion. But how is one to
guard against the danger? canst thou go through the forests, measuring the
bases, and calculating the centres of the oaks? answer me that, friend Jones,
and I will say thou wilt do the country a service.”
“Answer thee that,
friend Temple!” returned Richard; “a well-educated man can answer thee any
thing, sir. Do any trees fall in this manner, but such as are decayed? Take
care not to approach the roots of any rotten trees, and you will be safe
enough.”
“That would be
excluding us entirely from the forests,” said Marmaduke. “But, happily, the
winds usually force down most of these dangerous ruins, as their currents are
admitted into the woods by the surrounding clearings, and such a fall as this
has been is very rare.”
Louisa, by this time,
had recovered so much of her strength, as to allow the party to proceed at a
quicker pace; but long before they were safely housed, they were overtaken by
the storm; and when they dismounted at the door of the Mansionhouse, the black
plumes in Miss Temple’s hat were drooping with the weight of a load of damp
snow, and the coats of the gentlemen were powdered with the same material.
While Edward was assisting
Louisa from her horse, the warm-hearted girl caught his hand with fervour, and
whispered--
“Now, Mr. Edwards, both
father and daughter owe their lives to you.”
A driving,
north-westerly storm succeeded; and before the sun was set, every vestige of
spring had vanished; the lake, the mountains, the village, and the fields,
being again hid under one dazzling coat of snow.
“Men, boys, and girls, Desert
th’ unpeopled village; and wild crowds
Spread o’er the plain,
by the sweet frenzy driven.”
Somerville.
From this time to the
close of April, the weather continued to be a succession of great and rapid
changes. One day, the soft airs of spring would seem to be stealing along the
valley, and, in unison with an invigorating sun, attempting, covertly, to rouse
the dormant powers of the vegetable world; while on the next, the surly blasts
from the north would sweep across the lake, and erase every impression left by
their gentle adversaries. The snow, however, finally disappeared, and the green
wheat fields were seen in every direction, spotted with the dark and charred
stumps that had, the preceding season, supported some of the proudest trees of
the forest. Ploughs were in motion, wherever those useful implements could be
used, and the smokes of the sugar-camps were no longer seen issuing from the
summits of the woods of maple. The lake had lost all the characteristic beauty
of a field of ice, but still a dark and gloomy covering concealed its waters,
for the absence of currents left them yet hid under aporous crust, which,
saturated with the fluid, barely retained enough of its strength to preserve
the contiguity of its parts. Large flocks of wild geese were seen passing over
the country, which hovered, for a time, around the hidden sheet of water,
apparently searching for an opening, where they might obtain a resting-place;
and then, on finding themselves excluded by the chill covering, would soar away
to the north, filling the air with their discordant screams, as if venting
their complaints at the tardy operations of nature.
For a week, the dark
covering of the Otsego was left to the undisturbed possession of two eagles,
who alighted on the centre of its field, and sat proudly eyeing the extent of
their undisputed territory. During the presence of these monarchs of the air,
the flocks of migrating birds avoided crossing the plain of ice, by turning
into the hills, apparently seeking the protection of the forests, while the
white and bald heads of the tenants of the lake were turned upward, with a look
of majestic contempt, as if penetrating to the very heavens with the acuteness
of their vision. But the time had come, when even these kings of birds were to
be dispossessed. An opening had been gradually increasing, at the lower
extremity of the lake, and around the dark spot where the current of the river
had prevented the formation of ice, during even the coldest weather; and the
fresh southerly winds, that now breathed freely up the valley, obtained an
impression on the waters. Mimic waves begun to curl over the margin of the
frozen field, which exhibited an outline of crystalizations, that slowly
receded towards the north. At each step the power of the winds and the waves
increased, until, after a struggle of a few hours, the turbulent little billows
succeeded in setting the whole field in an undulatingmotion, when it was driven
beyond the reach of the eye, with a rapidity that was as magical as the change
produced in the scene by this expulsion of the lingering remnant of winter.
Just as the last sheet of agitated ice was disappearing in the distance, the
eagles rose over the border of crystals, and soared with a wide sweep far above
the clouds, while the waves tossed their little caps of snow into the air, as
if rioting in their release from a thraldom of five months’ duration.
The following morning
Elizabeth was awakened by the exhilarating sounds of the martins, who were
quarreling and chattering around the little boxes that were suspended above her
windows, and the cries of Richard, who was calling, in tones as animating as
the signs of the season itself--
“Awake! awake! my lady
fair! the gulls are hovering over the lake already, and the heavens are alive
with the pigeons. You may look an hour before you can find a hole, through
which, to get a peep at the sun. Awake! awake! lazy ones! Benjamin is
overhauling the ammunition, and we only wait for our breakfasts, and away for
the mountains and pigeon-shooting.”
There was no resisting
this animated appeal, and in a few minutes Miss Temple and her friend descended
to the parlour. The doors of the hall were thrown open, and the mild, balmy air
of a clear spring morning was ventilating the apartment, where the vigilance of
the ex-steward had been so long maintaining an artificial heat, with such
unremitted diligence. The gentlemen were impatiently waiting for their morning’s
repast, each being equipt in the garb of a sportsman. Mr. Jones made many
visits to the southern door, and would cry--
“See, cousin Bess! see,
’duke, the pigeon-roosts of the south have broken up! They aregrowing more
thick every instant. Here is a flock that the eye cannot see the end of. There
is food enough in it to keep the army of Xerxes for a month, and feathers
enough to make beds for the whole county. Xerxes, Mr. Edwards, was a Grecian
king, who--no, he was a Turk, or a Persian, who wanted to conquer Greece, just
the same as these rascals will overrun our wheat-fields, when they come back in
the fall.--Away! away! Bess; I long to pepper them from the mountain.”
In this wish both
Marmaduke and young Edwards seemed equally to participate, for the sight was
most exhilarating to a sportsman; and the ladies soon dismissed the party,
after a hasty breakfast.
If the heavens were
alive with pigeons, the whole village seemed equally in motion, with men,
women, and children. Every species of fire-arms, from the French ducking-gun,
with its barrel of near six feet in length, to the common horseman’s pistol,
was to be seen in the hands of the men and boys; while bows and arrows, some
made of the simple stick of a walnut sapling, and others in a rude imitation of
the ancient cross-bows, were carried by many of the latter.
The houses and the
signs of life apparent in the village, drove the alarmed birds from the direct
line of their flight, towards the mountains, along the sides and near the bases
of which they were glancing in dense masses, that were equally wonderful by the
rapidity of their motion, as by their incredible numbers.
We have already said,
that across the inclined plane which fell from the steep ascent of the mountain
to the banks of the Susquehanna, ran the highway, on either side of which a
clearing of many acres had been made, at a very early day. Over those
clearings, and up the eastern mountain,and along the dangerous path that was
cut into its side, the different individuals posted themselves, as suited their
inclinations; and in a few moments the attack commenced.
Amongst the sportsmen
was to be seen the tall, gaunt form of Leather-stocking, who was walking over
the field, with his rifle hanging on his arm, his dogs following close at his
heels, now scenting the dead or wounded birds, that were beginning to tumble
from the flocks, and then crouching under the legs of their master, as if they
participated in his feelings at this wasteful and unsports-manlike execution.
The reports of the
fire-arms became rapid, whole volleys rising from the plain, as flocks of more
than ordinary numbers darted over the opening, covering the field with
darkness, like an interposing cloud; and then the light smoke of a single piece
would issue from among the leafless bushes on the mountain, as death was hurled
on the retreat of the affrighted birds, who were rising from a volley, for many
feet into the air, in a vain effort to escape the attacks of man. Arrows, and
missiles of every kind, were seen in the midst of the flocks; and so numerous
were the birds, and so low did they take their flight, that even long poles, in
the hands of those on the sides of the mountain, were used to strike them to
the earth.
During all this time,
Mr. Jones, who disdained the humble and ordinary means of destruction used by
his companions, was busily occupied, aided by Benjamin, in making arrangements
for an assault of a more than ordinarily fatal character. Among the relics of
the old military excursions, that occasionally are discovered throughout the
different districts of the western part of New-York, there had been found in
Templeton, at its settlement, a small swivel, which would carry a ball of a poundweight.
It was thought to have been deserted by a war-party of the whites, in one of
their inroads into the Indian settlements, when, perhaps their convenience or
their necessities induced them to leave such an encumbrance behind them in the
woods. This miniature cannon had been released from the rust, and being mounted
on little wheels, was now in a state for actual service. For several years, it
was the sole organ for extraordinary rejoicings that was used in those
mountains. On the mornings of the Fourths of July, it would be heard, with its
echoes ringing among the hills, and telling forth its sounds, for thirteen
times, with all the dignity of a two-and-thirty pounder; and even Captain
Hollister, who was the highest authority in that part of the country on all
such occasions, affirmed that, considering its dimensions, it was no despicable
gun for a salute. It was somewhat the worse for the service it had performed,
it is true, there being but a trifling difference in size between the
touch-hole and the muzzle. Still, the grand conceptions of Richard had
suggested the importance of such an instrument, in hurling death at his nimble
enemies. The swivel was dragged by a horse into a part of the open space, that
the Sheriff thought most eligible for planting a battery of the kind, and Mr.
Pump proceeded to load it. Several handfuls of duckshot were placed on top of
the powder, and the Major-domo soon announced that his piece was ready for
service.
The sight of such an
implement collected all the idle spectators to the spot, who, being mostly
boys, filled the air with their cries of exultation and delight. The gun was
pointed on high, and Richard, holding a coal of fire in a pair of tongs,
patiently took his seat on a stump, awaiting theappearance of a flock that was
worthy of his notice.
So prodigious was the
number of the birds, that the scattering fire of the guns, with the hurling of
missiles, and the cries of the boys, had no other effect than to break off
small flocks from the immense masses that continued to dart along the valley,
as if the whole creation of the feathered tribe were pouring through that one
pass. None pretended to collect the game, which lay scattered over the fields
in such profusion as to cover the very ground with the fluttering victims.
Leather-stocking was a
silent, but uneasy spectator of all these proceedings, but was able to keep his
sentiments to himself until he saw the introduction of the swivel into the
sports.
“This comes of settling
a country!” he said-- “here have I known the pigeons to fly for forty long
years, and, till you made your clearings, there was nobody to skear or to hurt
them. I loved to see them come into the woods, for they were company to a body;
hurting nothing; being, as it was, as harmless as a garter-snake. But now it
gives me sore thoughts when I hear the frighty things whizzing through the air,
for I know it’s only a motion to bring out all the brats in the village at
them. Well! the Lord won’t see the waste of his creaters for nothing, and right
will be done to the pigeons, as well as others, by-and-by.--There’s Mr. Oliver,
as bad as the rest of them, firing into the flocks as if he was shooting down
nothing but the Mingo warriors.”
Among the sportsmen was
Billy Kirby, who, armed with an old musket, was loading, and without even
looking into the air, was firing and shouting as his victims fell even on his
own person. He heard the speech of Natty, and took upon himself to reply--
“What’s that, old
Leather-stocking!” he cried, “grumbling at the loss of a few pigeons! If you
had to sow your wheat twice, and three times, as I have done, you wouldn’t be
so massyfully feeling’d to’ards the divils.--Hurrah, boys! scatter the
feathers. This is better than shooting at a turkey’s head and neck, old fellow.”
“It’s better for you,
maybe, Billy Kirby,” replied the indignant old hunter, “and all them as don’t
know how to put a ball down a rifle-barrel, or how to bring it up ag’in with a
true aim; but it’s wicked to be shooting into flocks in this wastey manner; and
none do it, who know how to knock over a single bird. If a body has a craving
for pigeon’s flesh, why! it’s made the same as all other creater’s, for man’s
eating, but not to kill twenty and eat one. When I want such a thing, I go into
the woods till I find one to my liking, and then I shoot him off the branches
without touching a feather of another, though there might be a hundred on the
same tree. But you couldn’t do such a thing, Billy Kirby--you couldn’t do it if
you tried.”
“What’s that you say, you
old, dried cornstalk! you sapless stub!” cried the wood-chopper. “You’ve grown
mighty boasting, sin’ you killed the turkey; but if you’re for a single shot,
here goes at that bird which comes on by himself.”
The fire from the
distant part of the field had driven a single pigeon below the flock to which
it had belonged, and, frightened with the constant reports of the muskets, it
was approaching the spot where the disputants stood, darting first from one
side, and then to the other, cutting the air with the swiftness of lightning,
and making a noise with its wings, not unlike the rushing of a bullet.
Unfortunately for the wood-chopper, notwithstanding his vaunt, he did not see
his bird until it was too late for him to fire as it approached, and he pulled
his trigger at the unlucky moment when it was darting immediately over his
head. The bird continued its course with incredible velocity.
Natty lowered the rifle
from his arm, when the challenge was made, and, waiting a moment, until the
terrified victim had got in a line with his eyes, and had dropped near the bank
of the lake, he raised it again with uncommon rapidity, and fired. It might
have been chance, or it might have been skill, that produced the result; it was
probably a union of both; but the pigeon whirled over in the air, and fell into
the lake, with a broken wing. At the sound of his rifle, both his dogs started
from his feet, and in a few minutes the “slut” brought out the bird, still
alive.
The wonderful exploit
of Leather-stocking was noised through the field with great rapidity, and the
sportsmen gathered in to learn the truth of the report.
“What,” said young
Edwards, have you really killed a pigeon on the wing, Natty, with a single
ball?”
“Haven’t I killed loons
before now, lad, that dive at the flash?” returned the hunter. “It’s much
better to kill only such as you want, without wasting your powder and lead,
than to be firing into God’s creaters in such a wicked manner. But I come out
for a bird, and you know the reason why I like small game, Mr. Oliver, and now
I have got one I will go home, for I don’t relish to see these wasty ways that
you are all practysing, as if the least thing wasn’t made for use, and not to
destroy.
“Thou sayest well,
Leather-stocking,” criedMarmaduke, “and I begin to think it time to put an end
to this work of destruction.”
“Put an ind, Judge, to
your clearings. An’t the woods his work as well as the pigeons? Use, but don’t
waste. Wasn’t the woods made for the beasts and birds to harbour in? and when
man wanted their flesh, their skins, or their feathers, there’s the place to
seek them. But I’ll go to the hut with my own game, for I wouldn’t touch one of
the harmless things that kiver the ground here, looking up with their eyes on
me, as if they only wanted tongues to say their thoughts.”
With this sentiment in
his mouth, Leatherstocking threw his rifle over his arm, and followed by his
dogs, stepped across the clearing with great caution, taking care not to tread
on one of the wounded birds that lay in his path. He soon entered the bushes on
the margin of the lake, and was hid from view.
Whatever impression the
morality of Natty made on the Judge, it was utterly lost on Richard. He availed
himself of the gathering of the sportsmen, to lay a plan for one “fell swoop”
of destruction. The musket-men were drawn up in battle array, in a line
extending on each side of his artillery, with orders to await the signal of
firing from himself.
“Stand by, my lads,”
said Benjamin, who acted as an aid de-camp on this momentous occasion, “stand
by, my hearties, and when Squire Dickens heaves out the signal for to begin the
firing, d’ye see, you may open upon them in a broadside. Take care and fire
low, boys, and you’ll be sure to hull the flock.”
“Fire low!” shouted
Kirby--“hear the old fool! If we fire low, we may hit the stumps, but not
ruffle a pigeon.”
“How should you know,
you lubber?” criedBenjamin, with a very unbecoming heat for an officer on the
eve of battle--“how should you know, you grampus? Havn’t I sailed aboard of the
Boadishy for five years? and wasn’t it a standing order to fire low, and to
hull your enemy? Keep silence at your guns, boys, and mind the order that is
passed.”
The loud laughs of the
musketmen were silenced by the authoritative voice of Richard, who called to
them for attention and obedience to his signals.
Some millions of
pigeons were supposed to have already passed, that morning, over the valley of
Templeton; but nothing like the flock that was now approaching had been seen
before. It extended from mountain to mountain in one solid blue mass, and the
eye looked in vain over the southern hills to find its termination. The front
of this living column was distinctly marked by a line, but very slightly
indented, so regular and even was the flight. Even Marmaduke forgot the
morality of Leather-stocking as it approached, and, in common with the rest,
brought his musket to his shoulder.
“Fire!” cried the
Sheriff, clapping his coal to the priming of the cannon. As half of Benjamin’s
charge escaped through the touch-hole, the whole volley of the musketry
preceded the report of the swivel. On receiving this united discharge of
small-arms, the front of the flock darted upward, while, at the same instant,
myriads of those in their rear rushed with amazing rapidity into their places,
so that when the column of white smoke gushed from the mouth of the little
cannon, an accumulated mass of objects was gliding over its point of direction.
The roar of the gun echoed along the mountains, and died away to the north,
like distant thunder, while the whole flockof alarmed birds seemed, for a
moment, thrown into one disorderly and agitated mass. The air was filled with
their irregular flights, layer rising over layer, far above the tops of the
highest pines, none daring to advance beyond the dangerous pass; when,
suddenly, some of the leaders of the feathered tribe shot across the valley,
taking their flight directly over the village, and the hundreds of thousands in
their rear followed their example, deserting the eastern side of the plain to
their persecutors and the fallen.
“Victory!” shouted
Richard, “victory! we have driven the enemy from the field.”
“Not so, Dickon,” said
Marmaduke; “the field is covered with them; and, like the Leatherstocking, I
see nothing but eyes, in every direction, as the innocent sufferers turn their
heads in terror, to examine my movements. Full one half of those that have
fallen are yet alive: and I think it is time to end the sport; if sport it be.”
“Sport!” cried the
Sheriff; “it is princely sport! There are some thousands of the bluecoated boys
on the ground, so that every old woman in the village may have a pot-pie for
the asking.”
“Well, we have happily
frightened the birds from this side the valley,” said Marmaduke, “and our carnage
must of necessity end, for the present.--Boys, I will give thee sixpence a
hundred for the pigeons’ heads only; so go to work, and bring them into the
village, where I will pay you.”
This expedient produced
the desired effect, for every urchin on the ground went industriously to work
to wring the necks of the wounded birds. Judge Temple retired towards his
dwelling with that kind of feeling, that many a man has experienced before him,
who discovers, after theexcitement of the moment has passed, that he has
purchased pleasure at the price of misery to others. Horses were loaded with
the dead; and, after this first burst of sporting, the shooting of pigeons
became a business, for the remainder of the season, more in proportion to the
wants of the people. Richard, however, boasted for many a year, of his shot
with the “cricket;” and Benjamin gravely asserted, that he thought they killed
nearly as many pigeons on that day, as there were Frenchmen destroyed on the
memorable occasion of Rodney’s victory.
“Help, masters, help;
here’s a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man’s right in the law.”
Pericles of Tyre
The advance of the
season now became as rapid, as its first approach had been tedious and
lingering. The days were uniformly mild, and genial to vegetation, while the
nights, though cool, were no longer chilled by frosts. The whip-poor-will was
heard whistling his melancholy notes along the margin of the lake, and the
ponds and meadows were sending forth the music of their thousand tenants. The
leaf of the native poplar was seen quivering in the woods; the sides of the
mountains began to lose their hue of brown, as the lively green of the
different members of the forest blended their shades with the permanent colours
of the pine and hemlock; and even the buds of the tardy oak were swelling with
the promise of the coming summer. The gay and fluttering blue-bird, the social
robin, and the industrious little wren, were all to be seen, enlivening the
fields with their presence and their songs; while the soaring fish-hawk was
already hovering over the waters of the Otsego, watching, with his native
voracity, for the appearance of his prey.
The tenants of the lake
were far-famed for both their quantities and their quality, and the ice had
hardly disappeared, before numberless little boats were launched from the
shores, and the lines of the fishermen were dropped into the inmost recesses of
its deepest caverns, tempting the unwary animals with every variety of bait
that the ingenuity or the art of man had invented. But the slow, though certain
adventures with a hook and line were ill-suited to the profusion and impatience
of the settlers. More destructive means were resorted to; and, as the season
had now arrived when the bass-fisheries were allowed by the provisions of the
law, that Judge Temple had procured, the Sheriff declared his intention by
availing himself of the first dark night, to enjoy the sport in person--
“And you shall be
present, cousin Bess,” he added, when he announced this intention, “and Miss
Grant, and Mr. Edwards; and I will show you what I call fishing--not nibble,
nibble, nibble, as ’duke does, when he goes after the salmontrout. There he
will sit, for hours, in a broiling sun, or, perhaps, over a hole in the ice, in
the coldest days in winter, under the lee of a few bushes, and not a fish will
he catch, after all this mortification of the flesh. No, no--give me a good
seine, that’s fifty or sixty fathoms in length, with a jolly parcel of boatmen
to crack their jokes, the while, and with Benjamin to steer, and let us haul
them in by thousands, and I shall call that fishing.”
“Ah! Dickon,” cried
Marmaduke, “thou knowest but little of the pleasure there is in playing with
the hook and line, or thou wouldst be more saving of the game. I have known
thee to leave fragments enough behind thee, when thouhast headed a night-party
on the lake, to feed a half-dozen famishing families.”
“I shall not dispute
the matter with you, Judge Temple,” said the Sheriff, with much dignity; “this
night will I go; and I invite the company to attend, and then let them decide
between us.”
Richard was busy,
during most of the afternoon, making his preparations for the important
occasion. Just as the light of the setting sun had disappeared, and a new moon
had begun to cause faint shadows to be seen on the earth, the fishermen took
their departure in a boat, for a point that was situated on the western shore
of the lake, at the distance of rather more than half a mile from the village.
The ground had become settled, and the walking was good and dry. Marmaduke,
with his daughter, her friend, and young Edwards, continued on the high grassy
banks, at the outlet of the placid sheet of water, watching the dark object
that was moving with great rapidity across the lake, until it entered the shade
of the western hills, and was lost to the eye. The distance round by land, to
the point of their destination, was a mile, and he observed--
“It is time for us to
be moving; the moon will be down ere we reach the point, and then the
miraculous hauls of Dickon will commence.”
The evening was warm,
and, after the long and dreary winter from which they had just escaped,
delightfully invigorating, both to the mind and body. Inspirited by the scene,
and their anticipated amusement, the youthful companions of the Judge followed
his steps, as he led them along the shores of the Otsego, and through the
skirts of the little village.
“See!” said young
Edwards; “they are building their fire already; it glimmers for a moment, and
then dies again, like the light of a firefly.”
“Now it blazes like a
bonfire!” cried Elizabeth; “you can see the figures moving around the light.
Oh! I would bet my jewels against the gold beads of Remarkable, that my
impatient cousin Dickon had an agency in raising that bright flame;--and see;
it begins to fade again, like most of his brilliant schemes.”
“Thou hast guessed the
truth, Bess,” said her father; “he has thrown an armfull of brush on the pile,
which has burnt out as soon as lighted. But it has enabled them to find a
better fuel, for their fire begins to blaze with a more steady flame. It is the
true fisherman’s beacon now; observe how beautifully it throws its little
circle of light on the water!”
The appearance of the
fire urged the pedestrians on, for even the ladies had become eager to witness
the draught of the seine. By the time they reached, the bank which rose above
the low point where the fishermen had landed, the moon had sunk behind the tops
of the western pines, and, as most of the stars were obscured by the clouds,
there was but little other light, by which to view the scene, than that which
proceeded from the large piles of brush, branches, and roots, that had been
collected, under the superintendence of Richard. At the suggestion of Marmaduke,
his companions paused to listen to the conversation of those below them, and
examine the party, for a moment, before they descended to the shore.
The whole group were
seated around the fire, on the ground, with the exception of Richard and Benjamin;
the former of whom occupied the root of a decayed stump, that had been drawn to
the spot as part of their fuel, and the latter was standing, with his arms
a-kimbo, so near to the flame, that the smoke occasionally obscured his solemn
visage, as it waved around the pile, in obedience to the light night-airs, that
swept gently over the surface of the water.
“Why, look you, Squire,”
said the Major-domo, “you may call a lake-fish that will weigh twenty or thirty
pounds, a serious matter; but to a man who has hauled in a shovel-nosed shirk,
d’ye see, it’s but a poor kind of fishing, after all.”
“I don’t know,
Benjamin,” returned the Sheriff; “a haul of one thousand Otsego bass, without
counting pike, pickerel, perch, bull-pouts, salmontrouts, and suckers, is no
bad fishing, let me tell you. There may be sport in sticking a shark, but what
is he good for after you have got him? Now any one of the fish that I have
named is fit to set before a king.”
“Well, Squire,”
returned Benjamin, “just listen to the philosophy of the thing. Would it stand
to reason, that such fish should live and be catched in this here little pond
of water, where it’s hardly deep enough to drown a man, as you’ll find in the
wide ocean, where, as every body knows, that is, every body that has followed
the seas, whales and grampuses are to be seen, that are as long as one of them
pine trees on yonder mountain?”
“Softly, softly,
Benjamin,” said the Sheriff, using a soothing manner, as if he wished to save
the credit of his favourite; “why some of the pines will measure full two
hundred feet, and even more.”
“Two hundred or two
thousand, it’s all the same thing,” cried Benjamin, with an air which
manifested that he was not easily to be bullied out of his opinion, on a
subject like the present-- “Haven’t I been there, and haven’t I seen? Ihave
said that you fall in with whales as long as one of them there pines; and I’ll
stand to what I have once said.”
During this dialogue,
which was evidently but the close of a much longer discussion, the huge frame
of Billy Kirby was seen extended on one side of the fire, where he was picking
his teeth with the splinters of the chips that were near him, and occasionally
shaking his head, with the distrust that was engendered by the marvellous
qualities of Benjamin’s assertions. It seems that he now thought it time to
advance his sentiments on the subject.
“I’ve a notion,” said
the wood-chopper, “that there’s water in this lake to swim the biggest whale
that ever was invented; and, as to the pines, I think I ought to know so’thing
consarning them; and I have chopped many a one that was sixty times the length
of my helve, without counting the eyes; and I b’lieve, Benny, that if the old
pine that stands in the hollow of the Vision Mountain, just over the village,
and you may see the tree itself by looking up, for the moon is on its top
yet;--well, now I b’lieve, that if that same tree was planted out in the
deepest part of the lake, there would be water enough for the biggest ship that
ever was built to float over it, without touching its upper branches, I do.”
“Did’ee ever see a
ship, Master Kirby?” roared the steward--“did’ee ever see a ship, man? or any
craft bigger than a lime-scow, or a wood-boat, on this here small bit of fresh
water?”
“Yes, I have,” said the
wood-chopper, stoutly; “I can say that I have, and tell no lie.”
“Did’ee ever see a
British ship, Master Kirby? an English line-of-battle ship, boy? Where away did’ee
ever fall in with a regular-built vessel, with starn-post and cut-water,
garboard streak andplank-shear, gangways and hatchways, and waterways,
quarter-deck and forecastle, ay, and flushdeck?--tell me that, man, if you can;
where away did’ee ever fall in with such a hooker; a full-rigged,
regular-built, decked vessel?”
The whole company were
a good deal astounded with this overwhelming question, and even Richard
afterwards remarked, that it “was a thousand pities that Benjamin could not
read, or he must have made a valuable officer to the British marine. It was no
wonder that they overcome the French so easily on the water, when even the
lowest sailor so well understood the different parts of a vessel.” But Billy
Kirby was a fearless wight, and had great jealousy of foreign dictation; he had
arisen on his feet, and turned his back to the fire, during the voluble
delivery of this interrogatory; and when the steward ended, contrary to all
expectation, he gave the following spirited reply:--
“Where! why on the
North River, and maybe on Champlain. There’s sloops on the river, boy, that
would give a hard time on’t to the stoutest vessel King George owns. They carry
masts of ninety feet in the clear, of good, solid pine, for I’ve been at the
chopping of many a one in Varmount state. I wish I was captain of one of them,
and you was in that Board-dish that you tell so much about, and we’d soon see
what good Yankee stuff is made on, and whether a Varmounter’s hide an’t as
thick as an Englishman’s.”
The echoes from the
opposite hills, which were more than half a mile from the fishing point, sent
back the discordant laugh that Benjamin gave forth at this challenge; and the
woods that covered their sides, seemed, by the noise that issued from their
shades, to be full of mocking demons.
“Let us descend to the
shore,” whispered Marmaduke, “or there will soon be ill blood between them.
Benjamin is a fearless boaster, and Kirby, though good-natured, is a careless
son of the forest, who thinks one American more than a match for six
Englishmen. I marvel that Dickon is silent, where there is such a trial of
skill in the superlative!”
The appearance of Judge
Temple and the ladies produced, if not a pacification, at least a cessation of
hostilities. Obedient to the directions of Mr. Jones, the fishermen prepared to
launch their boat, which had been seen in the back-ground of the view, with the
net carefully disposed on a little platform in its stern, ready for instant
service. Richard gave vent to his reproaches at the tardiness of the
pedestrians, when all the turbulent passions of the party were succeeded by a
calm, as mild and as placid as that which prevailed over the beautiful sheet of
water, that they were about to rifle of its best treasures.
The night had now
become so dark as to render objects, without the reach of the light from their
fire, not only indistinct, but, in most cases, invisible. For a little distance
the water was discernible, glistening, as the glare from the fire danced over
its surface, touching it, here and there, with red, quivering streaks; but at a
hundred feet from the shore, a boundary of impenetrable gloom opposed itself to
the vision. One or two stars were shining through the openings of the clouds,
and the lights were seen in the village, glimmering faintly, as if at an
immeasurable distance. At times, as their fire lowered, or as the horizon
cleared, the outline of the mountain, on the other side of the lake, might be
traced, by its undulations; but its shadow was cast, wide anddense, on the
bosom of the waters, rendering the darkness, in that direction, trebly deep.
Benjamin Pump was
invariably the cockswain and net-caster of Richard’s boat, unless the Sheriff
saw fit to preside in person; and, on the present occasion, Billy Kirby, and a
youth of about half his strength, were assigned to the duty at the oars. The
remainder of the assistants were stationed at the ropes, for the laborious
service of hauling the net to land. The arrangements were speedily made, and
Richard gave the signal to “shove off.”
Elizabeth watched the
motion of the batteau, as it pulled from the shore, letting loose its rope as
it went, but it very soon disappeared in the darkness, when her ear was her
only guide to its evolutions. There was a great affectation of stillness,
during all these manœuvres, in order, as Richard assured them, “not to frighten
the bass, who were running into the shoal waters, and who would approach the
light, if not disturbed by the sounds from the fishermen.”
The hoarse voice of
Benjamin was alone heard, issuing out of the gloom, as he uttered, in
authoritative tones, “pull larboard oar,” “pull starboard,” “give way together,
boys,” and such other dictative mandates as were necessary for the right
disposition of his seine. A long time was passed in this necessary part of the
process, for Benjamin prided himself greatly on his skill in throwing the net,
and, in fact, most of the success of the sport depended on its being done with
judgment. At length a loud splash in the water, as he threw away the “staff,”
or “stretcher,” with a hoarse call from the steward, of “clear,” announced that
the boat was returning to the shore; when Richard seized a brand from the fire,
and ran to a point, as far above the centre of the fishing ground, as the one
from which the batteau had started was below it.
“Stick her in dead for
the Squire, boys,” said the steward, “and we’ll have a look at what there is
that grows in this here pond.”
In place of the falling
net, were now to be heard the quick strokes of the oars, and the noise of the
rope, running out of the boat. Presently the batteau shot into the circle of
light, and in an instant she was pulled to shore. Several eager hands were
extended, to receive the “hauling line,” and, both ropes being equally well
manned, the fishermen commenced hauling in, with slow and steady drags, Richard
standing in the centre, giving orders, first to one party and then to the
other, to increase or slacken their efforts, as the occasion required. The
visiters were posted near him, and enjoyed a fair view of the whole operation,
which was slowly advancing to an end.
Opinions, as to the
result of their adventure, were now freely hazarded by all the men, some
declaring that the net came in as light as a feather, and others affirming that
it seemed to be full of logs. As the ropes were many hundred feet in length,
these opposing sentiments were thought to be of little moment by the Sheriff,
who would go first to one line and then to the other, giving each a small pull,
in order to enable him to form an opinion for himself.
“Why, Benjamin,” he
cried, as he made his first effort in this way, “you did not throw your net
clear. I can move it with my little finger. The rope slackens in my hand.”
“Did you ever see a
whale, Squire?” responded the steward: “I say that if that there net is foul,
the devil is in the lake in the shape of a fish, for I cast it as fair as ever
rigging was rove over the quarter-deck of a flag-ship.”
But Richard discovered
his mistake, when he saw Billy Kirby before him, standing with his feet to the
water, at an angle of forty-five degrees, inclining shorewards, and expending
his gigantic strength in sustaining himself in that posture. He ceased his
remonstrances, and proceeded to the party at the other line.
“I see the ‘staff,’ ”
shouted Mr. Jones;-- “gather in, boys, and away with it; to shore with her--to
shore with her.”
At this cheerful sound,
Elizabeth strained her eyes, and saw the ends of the two sticks on the seine,
emerging from the darkness, while the men closed near to each other, and formed
a deep bag of their net. The exertions of the fishermen sensibly increased, and
the voice of Richard was heard, encouraging them to make their greatest
efforts, at the present moment.
“Now’s the time, my
lads,” he cried; “let us get the ends to land, and all we have will be our
own--away with her!”
“Away with her it is,”
echoed Benjamin-- “hurrah! ho-a-hoy, ho-a-hoy, ho-a!”
“In with her,” shouted
Kirby, exerting himself in a manner that left nothing for those in his rear to
do, but to gather up the slack of the rope which he passed through his hands.
“Staff, ho!” shouted
the steward.
“Staff, ho!” echoed
Kirby, from the other rope.
The men rushed to the
water’s edge, some seizing the upper rope, and some the lower, or lead-rope,
and began to haul with great activity and zeal. A deep semicircular sweep, of
the little balls that supported the seine in its perpendicular position, was
plainly visible to the spectators, and, as it rapidly lessened in size, the bag
of the net appeared, while an occasional flutter on the water announced the
uneasiness of the prisoners it contained.
“Haul in, my lads,”
shouted Richard--“I can see the dogs kicking to get free. Haul in, and here’s a
cast that will pay you for the labour.”
Fishes of various sorts
now were to be seen, entangled in the meshes of the net, as it was passed
through the hands of the labourers; and the water, at a little distance from
the shore, was alive with the agitated movements of the alarmed victims.
Hundreds of white sides were glancing up to the surface of the water, and
glistening in the fire-light, when frightened at the uproar and the change, the
fish would again dart to the bottom, in fruitless efforts for freedom.
“Hurrah!” shouted
Richard again; “one or two more heavy drags, boys, and we are safe.”
“Cheerily, boys,
cheerily!” cried Benjamin; “I see a salmon-trout that is big enough for a
chowder.”
“Away with you, you
varmint!” said Billy Kirby, plucking a bull-pout from the meshes, and casting
the animal back into the lake with great contempt. “Pull, boys, pull; here’s
all kinds, and the Lord condemn me for a liar, if there an’t a thousand bass!”
Inflamed beyond the
bounds of discretion at the sight, and forgetful of the season, the
wood-chopper rushed to his middle in the water, and begun to drive the
reluctant animals before him from their native element.
“Pull heartily, boys,”
cried Marmaduke, yielding to the excitement of the moment, and laying his hands
to the net, with no trifling addition to the force. Edwards had preceded him,
for the sight of the immense piles of fish, that were slowly rolling over on
the gravelly beach, had impelled him also to leave the ladies, and join the
fishermen.
Great care was observed
in bringing the net to land, and, after much toil, the whole shoal of victims
were safely deposited in a hollow of the bank, where they were left to flutter
away their brief existence, in their new and fatal element.
Even Elizabeth and
Louisa were greatly excited and highly gratified, by seeing two thousand
captives thus drawn from the bosom of the lake, and laid as prisoners at their
feet. But when the feelings of the moment were passing away, Marmaduke took in
his hands a bass, that might have weighed two pounds, and, after viewing it a
moment, in melancholy musing, he turned to his daughter, and observed--
“This is a fearful
expenditure of the choicest gifts of Providence. These fish, Bess, which thou
seest lying in such piles before thee, and which, by to-morrow evening, will be
rejected food on the meanest table in Templeton, are of a quality and flavour
that, in other countries, would make them esteemed a luxury on the tables of
princes or epicures. The world has no better fish than the bass of Otsego: it
unites the richness of the shad to the firmness of the salmon.”
“But surely, dear sir,”
cried Elizabeth, “they must prove a great blessing to the country, and a
powerful friend to the poor.”
“The poor are always
prodigal, my child, where there is plenty, and seldom think of a provision
against the morrow. But if there can be any excuse for destroying animals in
this manner, it is in taking the bass. During the winter, you know, they are
entirely protected from our assaults by the ice, for they ever refuse the hook;
and during the hot months they are not seen.It is supposed they retreat to the
deep and cool waters of the lake, at that season; and it is only in the spring
and autumn, that, for a few days, they are to be found, around the points where
they are within the reach of a seine. But, like all the other treasures of the
wilderness, they already begin to disappear, before the wasteful extravagance
of man.”
“Disappear, ’duke!
disappear!” exclaimed the Sheriff; “if you don’t call this appearing, I know
not what you will. Here are a good thousand of the shiners, some hundreds of
suckers, and a powerful quantity of other fry. But this is always the way with
you, Marmaduke; first it’s the trees, then it’s the deer, after that it’s the
maple sugar, and so on to the end of the chapter. One day you talk of canals,
through a country where there’s a river or a lake every half-mile, just because
the water won’t run the way you wish it to go; and the next, you say something
about mines of coal, though any man who has good eyes, like myself--I say with
good eyes--can see more wood than would keep the city of London in fuel for fifty
years;--wouldn’t it Benjamin?”
“Why, for that, Squire,”
said the steward, “Lon’on is no small place. If it was stretched an end, all
the same as a town on one side of a river, it would cover some such matter as
this here lake. Thof I dar’st to say, that the wood in sight might sarve them a
good turn, seeing that the Lon’oners mainly burn coal.”
“Now we are on the
subject of coal, Judge Temple,” interrupted the Sheriff, “I have a thing of
much importance to communicate to you; but I will defer it until to-morrow. I
know that you intend riding into the eastern part of the patent, and I will
accompany you, and conduct you to a spot, where some of your projects may be
realized. We will say no more now, sir, for there are listeners; but a secret
has this evening been revealed to me, ’duke, that is of more consequence to
your welfare, than all your estates united.”
Marmaduke laughed at
this important intelligence, to which in a variety of shapes he was accustomed,
and the Sheriff, with an air of great dignity, as if pitying his want of faith,
proceeded in the business more immediately before them. As the labour of
drawing the net had been very great, he directed one party of his men to
commence throwing the fish into piles, preparatory to the usual division, while
another, under the superintendence of Benjamin, prepared the seine for a second
haul.
“While from its margin,
terrible to tell!
Three sailors with
their gallant boatswain fell.”
Falconer
While the fishermen
were employed in making the preparations for an equitable division of their
spoils, Elizabeth and her friend strolled to a short distance from the group,
along the shores of the lake. The shades of evening had been gradually
gathering around the scene, during the draught of the net, and, while the
objects in the vicinity of the fire were still distinct, and even vivid, the
surrounding darkness became deeper, both by the contrast, and the advancing
dominion of the night. After reaching a point, to which even the brightest of
the occasional gleams of light from the fire did not extend, the ladies turned,
and paused a moment, in contemplation of the busy and lively party they had
left, and of the obscurity, which, like the gloom of oblivion, seemed to
envelope the rest of the creation.
“This is indeed a
subject for the pencil!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “Observe the countenance of that
wood-chopper, while he exults in presenting a larger fish than common to my
cousin Sheriff; and see, Louisa, how handsome and considerate mydear father looks,
by the light of that fire, where he stands viewing the havoc of the game. He
seems really melancholy, as if he actually thought that a day of retribution
was to follow this hour of abundance and prodigality! Would they not make a
fine picture, Louisa?”
“You know that I am
ignorant of all such accomplishments, Miss Temple.”
“Call me by my
christian name,” interrupted Elizabeth; “this is not a place, neither is this a
scene, for the observance of forms.”
“Well, then, if I may
venture an opinion,” said Louisa, timidly, “I should think it might indeed make
a picture. The selfish earnestness of that Kirby over his fish, would contrast
finely with the --the--expression of Mr. Edward’s face. I hardly know what to
call it; but it is--a--is--you know what I would say, dear Elizabeth.”
“You do me too much
credit, Miss Grant,” said the heiress; “I am no diviner of thoughts, or
interpreter of expressions.”
There was certainly
nothing harsh, or even cold, in the manner of the speaker, but still it
repressed the conversation, for a moment, and the maidens continued to stroll
still further from their party, retaining each other’s arm, but observing a
profound silence. Elizabeth, perhaps conscious of the improper phraseology of
her last speech, or perhaps excited by the new object that met her wandering
gaze, was the first to break the present awkward cessation in the discourse, by
exclaiming, in all the richness of her animated and animating voice--
“Look, Louisa! we are
not alone; there are fishermen lighting a fire on the other side of the lake,
immediately opposite to us: it must be in front of the cabin of the
Leather-stocking!”
For some cause or
other, Miss Grant had kepther eyes bent in the direction of the pebbles, over
which she was walking; probably because, being less adventurous than her
companion, she was disposed to view what could be faintly discerned, without
attempting the gloom, in a vain effort to pierce its mysteries; or probably for
some better reason, that we leave our readers to imagine; but thus awakened,
she looked up, in the direction pointed out by her friend, and saw, at once,
the cause of her sudden exclamation.
Through the obscurity,
which prevailed most immediately under the eastern mountain, a small and
uncertain light was plainly to be seen, though, as it was occasionally lost to
the eye, it seemed struggling for its existence. They observed it to move, and
sensibly to lower, as if carried, down the descent of the bank, to the shore.
Here, in a very short time, its flame gradually expanded, and grew brighter,
until it became of the size of a man’s head, when it continued to shine, a
steady and glaring ball of fire.
Such an object, lighted
as it were by magic, under the brow of the mountain, and in that retired and
unfrequented place, gave double interest to the beauty and singularity of its
appearance. It did not at all resemble the large and unsteady light of their
own fire, being much more clear and bright, and retaining its size and shape
with perfect uniformity.
There are moments when
the best regulated minds are, more or less, subjected to the injurious
impressions which few have escaped in infancy, and Elizabeth smiled at her own
weakness, while she remembered the idle tales which were circulated through the
village, at the expense of the Leather-stocking The same ideas seized her
companion, and at the same instant, for Louisa pressed nearer to her friend, as
she said, in a lowvoice, stealing a timid glance towards the bushes and trees
that overhung the bank near them--
“Did you ever hear the
singular ways of this Natty spoken of, Miss Temple? They say that, in his
youth, he was an Indian Warrior, or, what is the same thing, a white man
leagued with the savages; and it is thought he has been concerned in many of
their inroads, in the old wars.”
“The thing is not at
all improbable,” returned Elizabeth; “but he is not alone in that particular.”
“No, surely; but is it
not strange, that he is so cautious with his hut? he never leaves it, without
fastening it in a remarkable manner; and, in several instances, when the
children, or even the men of the village have wished to seek a shelter there
from the storms, he has been known to drive them from his door, with rudeness
and threats. That surely is singular in this country!”
“It is certainly not
being very hospitable; but we must remember his aversion to the customs of
civilized life. You heard my father say, a few days since, how kindly he was
treated by him on his first visit to this place.” Elizabeth paused, and smiled,
with an expression of peculiar archness, though the darkness hid its meaning
from her companion, as she continued:--“Besides, he certainly admits the visits
of Mr. Edwards, whom we both know to be far from a savage.”
To this speech Louisa
made no reply, but continued gazing on the object which had elicited her
remarks. In addition to the bright and circular flame was now to be seen a
fainter, though a vivid light, of an equal diameter to the other at the upper
end, but which, after extending, downward, for many feet, gradually tapered to
a point at its lower extremity. A dark space was plainly visible between the
two, and the new illumination was placed beneath the other, the whole forming
an appearance not unlike an inverted note of admiration. It was soon evident
that the latter was nothing but the reflection, from the water, of the former,
and that the object, whatever it might be, was advancing across, or rather over
the lake, for it seemed to be several feet above its surface, in a direct line
with themselves. Its motion was amazingly rapid, the ladies having hardly
discovered that it was moving at all, before the waving light of a flame was
discerned, losing its regular shape, while it increased in size, as it
approached them.
“It appears to be
supernatural!” whispered Louisa, beginning to retrace her steps towards the
party.
“It is beautiful!”
exclaimed Elizabeth.
A brilliant, though
waving flame was now plainly visible, gracefully gliding over the lake, and
throwing its light on the water in such a manner as to tinge it slightly;
though, in the air, so strong was the contrast, the darkness seemed to have the
distinctness of material substances, as if the fire were embedded in a setting
of ebony. This appearance, however, gradually wore off, and the rays from the torch
struck out, and enlightened the atmosphere in front of it, leaving the
back-ground in a darkness that was more impenetrable than ever.
“Ho! Natty, is that
you?” shouted the Sheriff --“paddle in, old boy, and I’ll give you a mess of
fish that is fit to place before the Governor.”
The light suddenly
changed its direction, and a long and slightly-built boat hove up out of the
gloom, while the red glare fell on the weather-beaten features of the
Leather-stocking, whose tall person was seen erect in the frail vessel,
wielding, with all the grace of an experiencedboatman, a long fishing spear
which he held by its centre, first dropping one end and then the other into the
water, to aid in propelling the little canoe of bark, we will not say through,
but over the water. At the farther end of the vessel, a form was faintly seen,
guiding its motions, and using a paddle with the ease of one who felt there was
no necessity for extraordinary exertions. The Leather-stocking struck his spear
lightly against the short staff which upheld, on a rude grating framed of old
hoops of iron, the knots of pine that composed the fuel; and the light, which
glared high, for an instant fell on the swarthy features, and dark, glancing
eyes of Mohegan.
The boat glided along
the shore until it arrived opposite to the fishing-ground, when it again
changed its direction, and moved on to the land, with a motion so graceful, and
yet so rapid, that it seemed to possess the power of regulating its progress by
its own volition. The water in front of the canoe was hardly ruffled by its
passage, and no sound betrayed the collision, when the light fabric shot on the
gravelly beach, for nearly half its length, Natty receding a step or two from
its bow, in order to facilitate the landing.
"Approach,
Mohegan,” said Marmaduke: “approach, Leather-stocking, and load your canoe with
the bass. It would be a shame to assail the animals with the spear, when such
multitudes of victims lie here, that will be lost as food for the want of
mouths to consume them.”
“No, no, Judge,”
returned Natty, his tall figure stalking over the narrow beach, and ascended to
the little grassy bottom where the fish were laid in piles; “I eat of no man’s
wasty ways. I strike my spear into the eels, or the trout, when I crave the
creaters, but I would’nt be helping to such asinful kind of fishing, for the
best rifle that was ever brought out from the old countries. If they had fur
like a beaver, or you could tan their hides, like a buck, something might be
said in favour of taking them by the thousands with your nets; but as God made
them for man’s food, and for no other disarnable reason, I call it sinful and
wasty to catch more than can be eat.”
“Your reasoning is
mine,” cried Marmaduke; “for once, old hunter, we agree in our opinions; and I
heartily wish we could make a convert of the Sheriff. A net of half the size of
this would supply the whole village with fish, for a week, at one haul.”
The Leather-stocking
did not relish this alliance in sentiment, and he shook his head doubtingly, as
he answered--
“No, no; we are not
much of one mind, Judge, or you’d never turn good hunting grounds into stumpy
pastures. And you fish and hunt out of rule; but to me, the flesh is sweeter,
where the creater has some chance for its life; for that reason, I always use a
single ball, even if it be at a bird or a squirrel; besides, it saves lead,
for, when a body knows how to shoot, one piece of lead is enough for all,
except hard-lived animals.”
The Sheriff heard these
opinions with great indignation, and when he completed the last arrangement for
the division, by carrying, with his own hands, a trout of a large size, and
placing it on four different piles in succession, as his changeful ideas of
justice required, he gave vent to his spleen by exclaiming--
“A very pretty
confederacy, indeed! Judge Temple, the landlord and owner of a township, with
Nathaniel Bumppo, a lawless squatter, and professed deer-killer, in order to
preserve thegame in the county! But, ’duke, when I fish, I fish, and don’t
play;--so, away, boys, for another haul, and we’ll send out wagons and carts,
in the morning, to bring in our prizes!”
Marmaduke appeared to
understand that all opposition to the will of the Sheriff would be useless, and
he strolled from the fire, to the place where the canoe of the hunters lay,
whither the ladies and Oliver Edwards had already preceded him.
Curiosity induced the
females to approach this spot, but it surely was a different motive that led
the youth thither. Elizabeth examined the light ash timbers and thin bark
covering of the canoe, in admiration of its neat but simple execution, and with
wonder that any human being could be so daring as to trust his life in so frail
a vessel. But the youth explained to her the buoyant properties of the boat,
and its perfect safety, when under proper management, adding, in such glowing
terms, a description of the manner in which the fish were struck with the
spear, that she changed suddenly, from an apprehension of the danger of the
excursion, to a desire to participate in its pleasures. She even ventured a
proposition to that effect to her father, laughing, at the same time, at her
own wish, and accusing herself of acting under a woman’s caprice.
“Say not so, Bess,”
returned the Judge; “I would have you above the idle fears of a silly girl.
These canoes are the safest kind of boats, to those who have skill and steady
nerves. I have crossed the broadest part of the Oneida in one much smaller than
this.”
“And I the Ontary,”
interrupted the Leather-stocking; “and that with squaws in the canoe, too. But
the Delaware women be used to the paddle,and are down good hands in a boat of
this nater. If the young woman would like to see an old man strike a trout for
his breakfast, she is welcome to a seat and a sight. John will say the same,
seeing that he built the canoe, which was only launched yesterday; for I’m not
over curous at such small work as brooms, and basket-making, and other like
Indian trades.”
Natty gave the heiress
one of his significant laughs, with a kind nod of his head, when he concluded
this invitation; but Mohegan, with the native grace of an Indian, approached,
and taking her soft white hand into his own swarthy and wrinkled palm, said--
“Come, grand-daughter
of Miquon, and John will be glad. Trust the Indian: his head is old, though his
hand is not steady. The young Eagle will go, and see that no harm hurts his
sister.”
“Well, Mr. Edwards,”
cried Elizabeth, blushing slightly, “your friend, Mohegan, you see, has given a
promise for you. Do you redeem the pledge?”
“With my life, if
necessary, Miss Temple.” cried the youth, with fervour. “The sight is worth
some little apprehension, for of real danger there is none. I will go with you
and Miss Grant, however, to save appearances.”
“With me!” exclaimed
Louisa; “no, not with me, Mr. Edwards, nor surely do you mean to trust yourself
in that slight canoe.”
“But I shall, for I
have no apprehensions any longer,” said Elizabeth, stepping into the boat, and
taking a seat where the Indian directed. “Mr. Edwards, you may remain, as three
do seem to be enough for such an egg-shell.”
“It shall hold a
fourth,” cried the young man, springing to her side, with a violence that
nearly shook the weak fabric of the vessel asunder;--“pardon me, Miss Temple,
that I do not permit these venerable Charons to take you to the shades,
unattended by your genius.”
“Is it a good or evil
spirit?” asked Elizabeth.
“Good to you.”
“And mine,” added the
maiden, with an air that strangely blended pique with satisfaction. But the
motion of the canoe gave rise to new ideas, and fortunately afforded a good
excuse to the young man to change the discourse.
It appeared to
Elizabeth, that they glided over the water by magic, so easy and graceful was
the manner in which Mohegan guided his little bark. A slight gesture with his
spear, indicated the way in which the Leather-stocking wished to go, and a
profound silence was preserved by the whole party, as a precaution necessary to
the success of their fishery. The shore, at that point of the lake, ran
gradually off, and the water shoaled regularly, differing, in this particular,
altogether, from those parts where the mountains rose, nearly in perpendicular
precipices, from the beach. There, the largest vessels could have lain, with
their yards locked in the branches of the pines; while here, a scanty growth of
rushes lifted their tops above the lake, gently curling the waters, as their
bending heads slowly waved with the passing breath of the night air. It was at
the shallow points, only, that the bass could be found, or the net cast with
success.
Elizabeth saw thousands
of these fish, swimming in shoals along the shallow and warm waters of the
shore; for the flaring light of their torch exposed all the mysteries of the
lake, laying them open to the eye, with a slight variation in colour, as
plainly as if the limpid sheet of the Otsego was but another atmosphere. Every
instant she expected to see the impending spear ofLeather-stocking darting into
the thronging hosts that were rushing beneath her, where it would seem that a
blow could not go amiss; and where, as her father had already said, the prize
that would be obtained was worthy of the notice of any epicure. But Natty had
his peculiar habits; and, it would seem, his peculiar tastes also. His tall
stature, and his erect posture, enabled him to see much further than those who,
from motives of safety, were seated in the bottom of the canoe; and he turned
his head warily, in every direction, frequently bending his body forward, and
straining his vision, as if desirous of penetrating the darkness in the water,
that surrounded their boundary of light. At length his anxious scrutiny was
rewarded with success, and, waving his spear from the shore, he said, in a
cautious tone--
“Send her outside the
bass, John; I see a laker there, that has run out of the school. It’s sildom
one finds such a creater in the shallow waters, where a spear can touch it.”
Mohegan gave a wave of
assent with his hand, and in the next instant the canoe was without the “run of
the bass,” and in water of nearly twenty feet in depth. A few additional knots
were laid on the grating, and the light from the fire made to reach the bottom.
Elizabeth then saw a fish of unusual size, floating above the small pieces of
logs and sticks that were lying on the bottom. The animal was only
distinguishable, at that distance, by a slight, but almost imperceptible motion
of its fins and tail. The curiosity excited by this unusual exposure of the
secrets of the lake, seemed to be mutual between the heiress of the land and
the lord of these waters, for the “salmon-trout” soon announced his interest by
raising his head and body, for a few degrees above ahorizontal line, and then
dropping them again into the position of nature.
“Whist! whist!” said
Natty, in a low voice, on hearing a slight sound made by Elizabeth, in bending
over the side of the canoe, in eager curiosity; “’tis a sceary animal, and it’s
a far stroke for a spear. My handle is but fourteen foot, and the creater lies
at a good eighteen from the top of the water; but I’ll try him, for he’s a
ten-pounder.”
While speaking, the
Leather-stocking was poising and directing his weapon. Elizabeth saw the
bright, polished tines, as they slowly and silently entered the water, where
the refraction pointed them many degrees from the true direction to the fish;
and she thought that the intended victim saw them also, as he seemed to
increase the play of his tail and fins, though without moving his station. At
the next instant, the tall body of Natty bent to the water’s edge, and the
handle of his spear disappeared in the lake. The long, dark streak of the
gliding weapon, and the little bubbling vortex, which followed its rapid
flight, were easily to be seen; but it was not until the handle shot again high
into the air, by its own re-action, and its master, catching it in his hand,
threw its tines uppermost, that Elizabeth was acquainted with the success of
the blow. A fish of great size was transfixed by the barbed steel, and was very
soon shaken from its impaled situation into the bottom of the canoe.
“That will do, John,”
said Natty, raising his prize by one of his fingers, and exhibiting it before
the torch; “enough is as good as a feast; I shall not strike another blow
to-night.”
The Indian again waved
his hand, and replied with the simple and energetic monosyllable of--
“Good.”
Elizabeth was awakened
from the trance, created by this scene, and by gazing in that unusual manner at
the bottom of the lake, by the hoarse sounds of Benjamin’s voice, and the
dashing of oars, as the heavier boat of the seine-drawers approached the spot
where the canoe lay, dragging after its toilsome way, the folds of the net,
which was already spreading on the water.
“Haul off, haul off
Master Bumppo,” cried Benjamin; “your top-light frightens the fish, who see the
net and sheer off soundings. A fish knows as much as a horse, or, for that
matter, more, seeing that it’s brought up on the water. Haul off, Master
Bumppo, haul off, I say, and give a wide birth to the seine.”
Mohegan guided their
little canoe to a point where the movements of the fishermen could be observed,
without interruption to the business, and then suffered it to lie quietly on
the water, looking like an imaginary vessel floating in the air. There appeared
to be much ill-humour among the party in the batteau, for the directions of
Benjamin were not only frequent, but issued in a voice that partook largely of
the tones of dissatisfaction.
“Pull larboard oar,
will ye, Master Kirby,” cried the old seaman; “Pull larboard, best. It would
puzzle the oldest admiral in the British fleet to cast this here net fair, with
a wake like a corkscrew. Pull starboard, boy, pull starboard oar, with a will.”
“Harkee, Mister Pump,”
said Kirby, ceasing to row, and speaking with some spirit; “I’m a man that
likes civil language and decent treatment; such as is right ’twixt man and man.
If you want us to go hoy, say so, and hoy I’ll go, for the benefit of the
company; but I’m not used to being ordered about like dumb cattle.”
“Who’s dumb cattle!”
echoed Benjamin, fiercely, turning his forbidding face to the glare of the
light from the canoe, and exhibiting every feature teeming with the expression
of his disgust. “If you want to come aft and cun the boat round, come and be
damned, and a pretty steerage you’ll make of it too. There’s but another heave
of the net in the stern-sheets, and we’re clear of the thing. Give way, will
ye? and shoot her ahead for a fathom or two, and if you catch me afloat again
with such a horsemarine as yourself, why rate me a ship’s jackass, that’s all.”
Probably encouraged by
the prospect of a speedy termination to his labour, the wood-chopper resumed
his oar, and, under the strong excitement of his feelings, gave a stroke with
it, that not only cleared the boat of the net, but of the steward, at the same
instant, also. Benjamin had stood on the little platform that held the seine,
in the stern of the boat, and the violent whirl occasioned by the vigour of the
wood-chopper’s arm, completely destroyed his balance. The position of the
lights rendered objects in the batteau distinguishable, both from the canoe and
the shore; and the heavy fall on the water drew all eyes to the steward, as he
lay struggling, for a moment, in sight.
A loud burst of merriment,
to which the lungs of Kirby contributed no small part, broke out like a chorus
of laughter, and rung along the eastern mountain, in echoes, until it died away
in distant, mocking mirth, among the rocks and woods. The body of the steward
was seen slowly to disappear, as was expected; but when the light waves, which
had been raised by his fall, begun to sink in calmness, and the water finally
closed over his head, unbroken and still, a very different feeling pervaded the
spectators.
“How fare you,
Benjamin?” shouted Richard from the shore.
“The dumb devil can’t
swim a stroke!” exclaimed Kirby, rising, and beginning to throw aside his
clothes.
“Paddle up, Mohegan,”
cried young Edwards, “where the light will show us how he lies, and let me dive
for the body.”
“Oh! save him! for God’s
sake, save him!” exclaimed Elizabeth, bowing her head on the side of the canoe
in horror.
A powerful and
dexterous sweep of Mohegan’s paddle sent the canoe directly over the spot where
the steward had fallen, and a loud shout from the Leather-stocking announced
that he saw the body.
“Then steady the boat
while. I dive,” again cried Edwards.
“Gently, lad, gently,”
said Natty; “I’ll spear the creater up in half the time, and no risk to any
body.”
The form of Benjamin
was lying, about half way to the bottom, grasping with either hand the bottoms
of some broken rushes, by whose strength it was maintained in that position.
The blood of Elizabeth curdled to her heart, as she saw the figure of a
fellow-creature thus extended under an immense sheet of water, apparently in
motion, by the undulations of the dying waves, with its face and hands, viewed
by that light, and through the medium of the fluid, already coloured with livid
hues like death.
At the same instant,
she saw the shining tines of Natty’s spear approaching the motionless head of
the sufferer, and entwining themselves, rapidly and dexterously, in the hairs
of his queue and the cape of his coat. The body was now raised slowly, looking
ghastly and grim, as its features turned upward to the light, and approached
the surface.The arrival of the nostrils of Benjamin into their own atmosphere,
was announced by a breathing that would have done credit to a full-grown
porpoise. For a moment, Natty held the steward suspended, with his head just
above the water, while his eyes slowly opened, and stared about him, as if he
thought that he had reached a new and unexplored country.
As all the parties
acted and spoke together, much less time was consumed in the occurrence of these
events, than in their narration. To bring the batteau to the end of the spear,
and to raise the form of Benjamin from its liquid element into the boat, and
for the whole party to gain the shore, and land required but a minute. Kirby,
aided by Richard, whose anxiety induced him to run into the water to meet his
favourite assistant, carried the motionless steward up the bank, and seated him
before the fire, where he was supported, while the Sheriff proceeded to order
the most approved measures then in use, for the resuscitation of the drowned.
“Run, Billy,” he cried,
“to the village, and bring up the rum-hogshead that lies before the door, in
which I am making vinegar in cold weather, and he quick, boy, don’t stay to
empty the vinegar; and stop at Mr. Le Quoi’s, and buy a paper of tobacco and
half-a-dozen pipes; and ask Remarkable for some salt, and one of her flannel
petticoats; and ask Dr. Todd to send his lancet, and to come himself; and--ha! ’duke,
what are you about? would you strangle a man, who is full of water, by giving
him rum! Help me to open this hand, that I may pat it.”
All this time Benjamin
sat, with his muscles fixed, his mouth shut, and his hands clenching the
rushes, which he had seized in the confusion of the moment, and which, as he
held fast, like a trueseaman, had been the means of preventing his body from
rising again to the surface. His eyes, however, were open, and stared wildly on
the group about the fire, while his lungs were playing like a blacksmith’s
bellows, as if to compensate themselves for the minute of inaction to which
they had been subjected. As he kept his lips compressed, with a most inveterate
determination, the air was compelled to pass through his nostrils, and he
rather snorted than breathed, and in such a manner, that nothing, but the
excessive agitation of the Sheriff, could at all justify his precipitous
orders.
The bottle, applied to
the steward’s lips by Marmaduke, acted like a charm. His mouth opened
instinctively; his hands dropped the rushes, and seized the black glass; his
eyes raised from their horizontal stare, to the heavens; and the whole man was
lost, for a moment, in a new sensation. Unhappily for the propensity of the
steward, breath was as necessary after one of these draughts, as after his
submersion, and the time at length arrived when he was compelled to let go of
the bottle.
“Why, Benjamin!” roared
the Sheriff; “you amaze me! for a man of your experience in drownings to act so
foolishly! just now, you were half full of water, and now you are”--
“Full of grog,”
interrupted the steward, his features settling down, with amazing flexibility,
into their natural economy. “But, d’ye see, Squire, I kept my hatches close,
and it is but little water that ever gets into my scuttle-butt.-- Harkee,
Master Kirby! I’ve followed the salt water for the better part of a man’s life,
and have seen some navigation on the fresh; but this here matter I will say in
your favour, and that is, that you’re the awk’ardest green’un that ever
straddleda boat’s thwart. Them that likes you for a shipmate, may sail with
you, and no thanks; but dam’me if I even walk on the lake shore in your
company. For why? you’d as lief drown a man as one of them there fish; not to
throw a christian creature so much as a rope’s end, when he was adrift, and no
life-buoy in sight!--Natty Bumppo, give us your fist. There’s them that says
you’re an Indian, and a scalper, but you’ve sarved me a good turn, and you may
set me down for a friend; thof it would have been more ship-shape to lower the
bight of a rope, or a running bow-line, below me, than to seize an old seaman
by his head-lanyard; but I suppose you are used to taking men by the hair, and
seeing you did me good instead of harm thereby, why, it’s the same thing, d’ye
see.”
Marmaduke prevented any
reply, and assuming the direction of matters, with a dignity and discretion
that at once silenced all opposition from his cousin, Benjamin was despatched
to the village by land, and the net was hauled to shore, in such a manner that
the fish, for once, escaped its meshes with impunity.
The division of the
spoils was made in the ordinary manner, by placing one of the party with his
back to the game, who declared the owner of each pile. Billy Kirby stretched
his large frame on the grass, by the side of the fire, as a sentinel until
morning, over the net and the fish; and the remainder of the party embarked in
the batteau, to return to the village.
The wood-chopper was
seen broiling his supper on the coals, as they lost sight of the fire; and when
the boat approached the shore, the torch of Mohegan’s canoe was shining again
under the gloom of the eastern mountain. Its motion ceased suddenly; a
scattering of brands was exhibitedin the air, and then all remained dark as the
conjunction of night, forests, and mountains, could render the scene.
The thoughts of the
heiress wandered from the youth, who was holding a canopy of shawls over
herself and Louisa, to the hunter and the Indian warrior; and she felt an
awakening curiosity to visit a hut, where men of such different habits and
temperament were drawn together, as if by one common impulse.
Cease all this parlance
about hills and dales:
None listen to thy
scenes of boyish frolic,
Fond dotard! with such
tickled ears as thou dost;
Come! to thy tale.
Duo Mr. Jones arose, on the following
morning, with the sun, and, ordering his own and Marmaduke’s steeds to be
saddled, he proceeded, with a countenance that was big with some business of
unusual moment, to the apartment of the Judge. The door was unfastened, and
Richard entered, with the freedom that characterized, not only the intercourse
between the cousins, but the ordinary manners of the Sheriff.
“Well, ’duke, to house,”
he cried, “and I will explain to you my meaning in the allusions I made last
night. David says, in the Psalms--no, it was Solomon, but it was all in the
family--Solomon said, there was a time for all things; and, in my humble
opinion, a fishing party is not the moment for discussing important
subjects--Ha! why what the devil ails you, Marmaduke? an’t you well? let me
feel your pulse; my grandfather, you know”--
“Quite well in the
body, Richard,” interrupted the Judge, repulsing his cousin, who was about
toassume the functions that properly belonged to Dr. Todd: “but ill at heart. I
received letters by the post of last night, after we returned from the point,
and this among the number.”
The Sheriff took the
letter, but without turning his eyes on the writing, for he was examining the
appearance of the other with astonishment. From the face of his cousin, the
gaze of Richard wandered to the table, which was covered with letters, packets,
and newspapers; then to the apartment, and all that it contained. On the bed
there was the impression that had been made by a human form, but the coverings
were unmoved, and every thing indicated that the occupant of the room had
passed a sleepless night. The candles were burnt to the sockets, and had
evidently extinguished themselves in their own fragments. Marmaduke had drawn
his curtains, and opened both the shutters and the sashes, to admit the balmy
air of a spring morning; but his pale cheek, his quivering lip, and his sunken
eye, presented, altogether, so very different an appearance from the usual
calm, manly, and cheerful aspect of the Judge, that the Sheriff grew each
moment more and more bewildered with his astonishment. At length Richard found
time to cast his eyes on the direction of the letter, which he still held
unopened, crumbling it in his hand.
“What! a ship letter!”
he exclaimed; “and from England! ha! ’duke, here must be news of importance
indeed!”
“Read it,” said
Marmaduke, waving his hand for silence, and pacing the floor in excessive
agitation.
Richard, who commonly
thought aloud, was unable to read a letter, without suffering part of its
contents to escape him in audible sounds. So much of the epistle as was
divulged in that manner, we shall lay before the reader, accompanied by the
passing remarks of the Sheriff:--
“ ‘London, February
12th, 1793.’ What a devil of a passage she had! but the wind has been
northwest, for six weeks, until within the last fortnight. ‘Sir, your favours,
of August 10th, September 23d, and of December 1st, were received in due
season, and the first answered by return of packet. Since the receipt of the
last, I’ --Here a long passage was rendered indistinct, by a most significant
kind of humming noise, made by the Sheriff. ‘I grieve to say, that’-- hum, hum,
bad enough, to be sure--‘but trust that a merciful Providence has seen fit’--hum,
hum, hum; seems to be a good, pious sort of a man, ’duke; belongs to the
established church, I dare say; hum, hum--‘vessel sailed from Falmouth on or
about the 1st September of last year, and’--hum, hum, hum. ‘If any thing should
transpire, on this afflicting subject, shall not fail’ hum, hum; really a
good-hearted man, for a lawyer--‘but can communicate nothing further at present’--Hum,
hum. ‘The national convention’ --hum, hum--‘unfortunate Louis’--hum, hum-- ‘example
of your Washington’--a very sensible man, I declare, and none of your crazy
democrats Hum, hum--‘our gallant navy’--hum, hum--‘under our most excellent
monarch’--ay, a good man enough, that King George, but bad advisers; hum, hum--‘I
beg to conclude with assurances of my perfect respect,’--hum, hum-- ‘Andrew
Holt.’--Andrew Holt--a very sensible, feeling man, this Mr Andrew Holt--but the
writer of evil tidings. What will you do next, cousin Marmaduke?”
“What can I do,
Richard, but trust to time, and the will of Heaven? Here is another letter,
from Connecticut, but it only repeats the substance of the last. There is but
one consoling reflection to be gathered from the English news, which is, that
my last letter was received by him before the ship sailed.”
“This is bad enough
indeed! ’duke, bad enough indeed! and away go all my plans of putting the wings
to the house, to the devil. I had made my arrangements for a ride, to introduce
you to something of a very important nature. You know how much you think of
mines”--
“Talk not of mines,”
interrupted the Judge; “there is a sacred duty to be performed, and that
without delay. I must devote this day to writing; and thou must be my
assistant, Richard; it will not do to employ Oliver in a matter of such secrecy
and interest.”
“No, no, ’duke,” cried
the Sheriff, squeezing his hand, “I am your man, just now; we are sisters’
children, and blood, after all, is the best cement to make friendship stick
together. Well, well, there is no hurry about the silver mine, just now;
another time will do as well. We shall want Dirky Van, I suppose?”
Marmaduke assented to
this indirect question, and the Sheriff relinquished all his intentions, on the
subject of his ride, and, repairing to the breakfast parlour, he despatched a
messenger to require the immediate presence of Dirck Van der School.
The village of
Templeton, at that time, supported but two lawyers, one of whom was introduced
to our readers in the bar-room of the “Bold Dragoon,” and the other was the
gentleman of whom Richard spoke, by the friendly, but familiar appellation of
Dirck or Dirky Van. Great good nature, a very tolerable share of skill in his
profession, and, considering the circumstances, no contemptible degree of
honesty, were the principal ingredients to be found in the character ofthis
man; who was known to the settlers as Squire Van der School, and sometimes by
the flattering, though anomalous title of “the Dutch,” or “honest lawyer.” We
would not wish to mislead our readers in their conceptions of any of our
characters, and we therefore feel it necessary to add, that the adjective, in
the preceding agnomen of Mr. Van der School, was used in direct reference to
its substantive. Our orthodox friends need not be told that all merit in this
world is comparative; and, once for all, we desire to say, that where any thing
which involves qualities or character is asserted, we must be understood to
mean, “under the circumstances.”
During the remainder of
the day, the Judge was closeted with his cousin and his lawyer; and no one else
was admitted to his apartment, excepting his daughter. The deep distress, that
so evidently afflicted Marmaduke, was, in some measure, communicated to
Elizabeth also; for a look of dejection shaded her intelligent features, and
the buoyancy of her animated spirits was sensibly softened. Once, on that day,
young Edwards, who was a wondering and observant spectator of the sudden
alteration produced in the heads of the family, detected a tear stealing over
the cheek of the heiress, and suffusing her bright eyes, with a softness that
did not always belong to their proud and laughing expression.
“Have any evil tidings
been received, Miss Temple?” he inquired, with an interest and voice that
caused Louisa Grant to raise her head from her needle-work, with a quickness,
at which she instantly blushed herself. “I would offer my services to your
father, if, as I suspect, he needs an agent in some distant place, and I
thought it would give you relief.”
“We have certainly
heard bad news,” returnedElizabeth, “and it may be necessary that my father
should leave his home, for a short period; unless I can persuade him to trust
my cousin Richard with the business, whose absence from the county, just at
this time, too, might be inexpedient.”
The youth paused a
moment, and the blood gathered slowly to his temples, as he continued--
“If it be of a nature
that I could execute”--
“It is such as can only
be confided to one we know--one of ourselves.”
“Surely, you know me,
Miss Temple!” he added, with a warmth that he seldom exhibited, but which did
sometimes escape him, in the moments of their frank communications--“Have I
lived five months under your roof, and yet a stranger!”
Elizabeth was engaged
with her needle, also; and she bent her head to one side, affecting to arrange
her muslin; but her hand shook, her colour heightened, and her eyes lost their
moisture in an expression of ungovernable interest, as she said--
“how much do we know of
you, Mr. Edwards?”
“How much!” echoed the
youth, gazing from the speaker to the mild countenance of Louisa, that was also
illuminated with awakened curiosity; “how much! have I been so long an inmate
with you, and not known?”
The head of Elizabeth
slowly turned from its affected position, and the look of confusion that had
blended so strongly with an expression of interest, changed to a smile of
archness, as she answered--
“We know you, sir,
indeed: you are called Mr. Oliver Edwards. I understand that you have informed
my friend, Miss Grant, that you are a native”--
“Elizabeth!” exclaimed
Louisa, blushing to her eyes, and trembling like an aspen; “you misunderstood
me, dear Miss Temple; I--I--it was only conjecture. Besides, if Mr. Edwards is
related to the natives, why should we reproach him! in what are we better? at
least I, who am the child of a poor and unsettled clergyman?”
Elizabeth shook her
head, doubtingly, and even laughed, but made no reply, until, observing the
melancholy which pervaded the countenance of her companion, who was thinking of
the poverty and labours of her father, she continued--
“Nay, Louisa, your
humility carries you too far. The daughter of a minister of the church can have
no superiors. Neither I nor Mr. Edwards is quite your equal, unless,” she
added, again smiling, “he is in secret a king.”
“A faithful servant of
the King of kings, Miss Temple, is inferior to none on earth,” said Louisa; “but
his honours are his own; I am only the child of a poor and friendless man, and
can claim no other distinction. Why, then, should I feel myself elevated above
Mr. Edwards, because-- because--perhaps, he is only very, very distantly
related to John Mohegan?”
Glances of a very
comprehensive meaning were exchanged between the heiress and the young man, as
Louisa betrayed, while vindicating his lineage, the reluctance with which she
admitted his alliance to the old warrior; but not even a smile at the
simplicity of their companion was indulged by either.
“On reflection, I must
acknowledge that my situation here is somewhat equivocal,” said Edwards, “though
I may be said to have purchased it with my blood.”
“The blood, too, of one
of the native lords ofthe soil!” cried Elizabeth, whose melancholy had vanished
in the excitement of their dialogue.
“Do I bear the marks of
my lineage so very plainly impressed on my appearance?” asked the youth, with a
little pique in his manner. “I am dark, but not very red--not more so than
common?”
“Rather more so, just
now,” said the heiress.
“I am sure, Miss
Temple,” cried Louisa, “you cannot have taken much notice of Mr. Edwards. His
eyes are not so black as Mohegan’s, or even your own, nor is his hair!”
“Very possibly, then, I
can lay claim to the same descent. It would be a great relief to my mind to
think so, for I own that I grieve when I see old Mohegan walking about these
lands, like the ghost of one of their ancient possessors, and feel how small is
my right to possess them.”
“Do you!” cried the
youth, with a vehemence that startled the ladies.
“I do, indeed,”
returned Elizabeth, after suffering a moment to pass in her surprise; “but what
can I do? what can my father do? Should we offer the old man a home and a
maintenance, his habits would compel him to refuse us. Neither, were we so
silly as to wish such a thing, could we convert these clearings and farms,
again, into hunting-grounds, as the Leather-stocking would wish to see them.”
“You speak the truth,
Miss Temple,” said Edwards. “What can you do, indeed! But there is one thing
that I am certain you can and will do, when you become the mistress of these
beautiful valleys--use your wealth with indulgence to the poor and charity to
the needy;--indeed, you can do no more.”
“And that will be doing
a good deal,” said Louisa, smiling in her turn. “But there will,doubtless, be
one to take the direction of such things from her hands.”
“I am not about to
disclaim matrimony,” cried the heiress, “like a silly girl, who dreams of
nothing else from morning till night; but I am a nun, here, without the vow of
celibacy. Where should I find a husband, in these forests?”
“There is none, Miss
Temple,” said Edwards, quickly, “there is none who has a right to aspire to
you, and I know that you will assert the dignity of your sex, and wait to be
sought by your equal; or die, as you live, loved, respected, and admired, by
all who know you.”
The young man seemed to
think that he had said all that was required by gallantry, for he arose, and
taking his hat, hurried from the apartment. Perhaps Louisa thought that he had
said more than was necessary, for she sighed, with an aspiration so low that it
was scarcely audible to herself, and bent her head over her work again. And it
is possible that Miss Temple wished to hear more, for her eyes continued fixed,
for a minute, on the door through which the youth had passed, then glanced
quickly towards her companion, when the long silence that succeeded manifested
how much zest may be given to the conversation of two maidens under eighteen,
by the presence of a youth of three and twenty.
The first person
encountered by Mr. Edwards, as he rather rushed than walked from the house, was
the little, square-built lawyer, with a large bundle of papers under his arm, a
pair of green spectacles on his nose, with glasses at the sides, as if to
multiply his power of detecting frauds, by additional organs of vision.
Mr. Van der School was
a well-educated man, but of a slow comprehension, who had imbibed a wariness in
his speeches and actions, from havingsuffered by his collisions with his more
mercurial and apt brethren who had laid the foundations of their practice in
the eastern courts, and who had sucked in shrewdness with their mother’s milk.
The caution of this gentleman was exhibited in his actions, by the utmost
method and punctuality, tinctured with a good deal of timidity; and in his
speeches, by a parenthetical style, that frequently left to his auditors a most
delightful research after his meaning.
“A good morning to you,
Mr. Van der School,” said Edwards; “it seems to be a busy day with us at the
Mansion-house.”
“Good morning, Mr.
Edwards, (if that is your name, (for, being a stranger, we have no other
evidence of the fact than your own testimony.) as I understand you have given
it to Judge Temple,) good morning, sir. It is, apparently, a busy day, (but a
man of your discretion need not be told, (having, doubtless, discovered it of
your own accord,) that appearances are often deceitful,) up at the
Mansion-house.”
“Have you papers of
consequence, that will require copying? can I be of assistance to you in any
way?”
“There are papers (as,
doubtless, you see (for your eyes are young) by the outsides) that require
copying.”
“Well, then I will
accompany you to your office, and receive such as are most needed, and by night
I shall have them done, if there be much haste.”
“I shall be always glad
to see you, sir, at my office, (as in duty bound, (not that it is obligatory to
receive any man within your dwelling, (unless so inclined,) which is a castle,)
according to the forms of politeness,) or at any other place; but the papers
are most strictly confidential, (and, assuch, cannot be read by any one,)
unless so directed,) by Judge Temple’s solemn injunctions,) and are invisible
to all eyes; excepting those whose duties (I mean assumed duties) require it of
them.”
“Well, sir, as I
perceive that I can be of no service, I wish you another good morning; but beg
you will remember that I am quite idle, just now, and I wish you would intimate
as much to Judge Temple, and make him a tender of my services, in any part of
the world; unless--unless-- it be far from Templeton.”
“I will make the
communication, sir, in your name, (with your own qualifications,) as your
agent. Good morning, sir.--But stay proceedings, Mr. Edwards, (so called,) for
a moment. Do you wish me to state the offer of travelling, as a final contract,
(for which consideration has been received, at former dates, (by sums
advanced,) which would be binding,) or as a tender of services, for which
compensation is to be paid (according to future agreement between the parties)
on performance of the conditions?”
“Any way--any way,”
said Edwards--“he seems in distress, and I would assist him.”
“The motive is good,
sir, (according to appearances, (which are often deceitful,) on first
impressions,) and does you honour. I will mention your wish, young gentleman,
(as you now seem,) and will not fail to communicate the answer, by five o’clock,
P. M. of this present day, (God willing,) if you give me an opportunity so to
do.”
The ambiguous nature of
the situation and character of Mr. Edwards, had rendered him an object of
peculiar suspicion to the lawyer, and the youth was consequently too much
accustomed to similar equivocal and guarded speeches, to feel any unusual
disgust at the present dialogue. Hesaw, at once, that it was the intention of
the practitioner to conceal the nature of his business, even from the private
secretary of Judge Temple; and he knew too well the difficulty of comprehending
the meaning of Mr. Van der School, when the gentleman most wished to be
luminous in his discourse, not to abandon all thoughts of a discovery, when he
perceived that the attorney was endeavouring to avoid any thing like an
approach to a cross examination. They parted at the gate, the lawyer walking,
with an important and hurried air, towards his office, keeping his right hand
firmly clenched on the bundle of papers that his left arm pressed to his side
with a kind of convulsive motion.
It must have been
obvious to all our readers, that the youth entertained an unusual and
deeply-seated prejudice against the character of the Judge; but, owing to some
counteracting cause, his sensations were now those of powerful interest in the
state of his patron’s present feelings, and in the cause of his secret
uneasiness.
He remained gazing
after the lawyer, until the door closed on both the bearer and the mysterious
packet, when he returned slowly to the dwelling, and endeavoured to forget his
curiosity, in the usual avocations of his office.
When the Judge made his
re-appearance in the circles of his family, his cheerfulness was tempered by a
shade of melancholy, that lingered for many days around his manly brow; but the
magical progression of the season aroused him from his temporary apathy, and
his smiles returned with the animated looks of summer.
The heats of the days,
and the frequent occurrence of balmy showers, had completed, in an incredibly
short period, the growth of plants, which the lingering spring had so long
retarded in the germ; and the woods presented every shade of green that the
American forests know. The stumps in the cleared fields were already hid beneath
the tops of the stalks of rich wheat that were waving with every breath of the
summer air, shining, and changing their hues, like velvet.
During the continuance
of his cousin’s dejection, Mr. Jones forbore, with much consideration, to press
on his attention a business that each hour was drawing nearer to the heart of
the Sheriff, and which, if any opinion could be formed by his frequent private
conferences with the man, who was introduced in these pages, by the name of
Jotham, at the bar-room of the Bold Dragoon, was becoming also of great
importance.
At length the Sheriff
ventured to allude again to the subject, and one evening, in the beginning of
July, Marmaduke made him a promise of devoting the following day to the desired
excursion.
“Speak on, my dearest father! Thy
words are like the breezes of the west.”
Milman
It was a mild and soft
morning, when Marmaduke and Richard mounted their horses, to proceed on the
expedition that had so long been uppermost in the thoughts of the latter; and
Elizabeth and Louisa appeared at the same instant in the hall, attired for an
excursion on foot.
The head of Miss Grant
was covered by a neat little hat of green silk, and her modest eyes peered from
under its shade, with the soft languor that characterized her whole appearance;
but Miss Temple trod her father’s wide apartments with the step of their
mistress, holding in her hand, dangling by one of its ribands, the gipsy that
was to conceal the glossy locks that curled around her polished forehead, in
rich profusion.
“What, are you for a
walk, Bess!” cried the Judge, suspending his movements for a moment, to smile,
with a father’s fondness, at the display of womanly grace and beauty that his
child presented. “Remember the heats of July, my daughter; nor venture further
than thou canst retrace before the meridian. Where is thy parasol,girl? thou
wilt lose the polish of thy brow, under this sun and southern breeze, unless
thou guard it with unusual care.”
“I shall then do more
honour to my connexions.” returned the smiling daughter. “Cousin Richard has a
bloom that any lady might envy. At present, the resemblance between us is so
trifling, that no stranger would know us to be ‘sisters’ children.”’
“Grand-children, you
mean, cousin Bess,” said the Sheriff. “But on, Judge Temple; time and tide wait
for no man; and if you take my counsel, sir, in twelve months from this day,
you may make an umbrella for your daughter of her camel’s-hair shawl, and have
its frame of solid silver. I ask nothing for myself, ’duke; you have been a
good friend to me already; besides, all that I have will go to Bess, there, one
of these melancholy days, so it’s as long as it’s short, whether I or you leave
it. But we have a day’s ride before us, sir; so move forward, or dismount, and
say you won’t go, at once.”
“Patience, patience,
Dickon,” returned the Judge, checking his horse, and turning again to his
daughter. “If thou art for the mountains, love, stray not too deep into the
forest, I entreat thee; for, though it is done often with impunity, there is
sometimes danger.”
“Not at this season, I
believe, sir,” said Elizabeth; “for, I will confess, it is the intention of
Louisa and myself to stroll among the hills.”
“Less at this season
than in the winter, dear; but still there may be danger in venturing too far.
But though thou art resolute, Elizabeth, thou art too much like thy mother not
to be prudent.”
The eyes of the parent
turned reluctantly from the brilliant beauty of his child, and the Judge and
Sheriff rode slowly through the gateway,and disappeared among the buildings of
the village.
During this short
dialogue, young Edwards had stood, an attentive listener, holding in his hand a
fishing-rod, the day and the season having tempted him also to desert the
house, for the pleasure of exercise in the air. As the equestrians turned
through the gate, he approached the young maidens, who were already moving on
to the gravelled walk that led to the street, and was about to address them, as
Louisa paused, and said quickly--
“Here is Mr. Edwards,
would speak to us, Elizabeth.”
The other stopped also,
and turned to the youth, politely, but with a slight coldness in her air, that
sensibly checked the freedom with which the gentleman had approached them.
“Your father is not pleased
that you should walk unattended in the hills, Miss Temple. If I might offer
myself as a protector”--
“Does my father select
Mr. Oliver Edwards as the organ of his displeasure?” interrupted the lady.
“Good Heaven! you
misunderstood my meaning,” cried the youth; “I should have said uneasy, for not
pleased. I am his servant, madam, and in consequence yours. I repeat that, with
your consent, I will change my rod for a fowling-piece, and keep nigh you on
the mountain.”
“I thank you, Mr.
Edwards,” returned Elizabeth; suffering one of her fascinating smiles to chase
the trifling frown from her features; “but where there is no danger, no
protection is required. We are not yet, sir, reduced to wandering among these
free hills accompanied by a body-guard. If such an one is necessary, there he
is, however.-- Here, Brave,--Brave--my noble Brave!”
The huge mastiff that
has been already mentioned, appeared from his kennel, gaping and stretching
himself, with a pampered laziness; but as his mistress again called--“Come,
dear Brave; once have you served your master well; let us see how you can do
your duty by his daughter”--the dog wagged his tail, as if he understood her
language, walked with a stately gait to her side, where he seated himself, and
looked up at her face, with an intelligence but little inferior to that which
beamed in her own lovely countenance.
She resumed her walk,
but again paused, after a few steps, and added, in tones of conciliation--
“You can be serving us
equally, and, I presume, more agreeably to yourself, Mr. Edwards, by bringing
us a string of your favourite perch, for the dinner-table.”
When they again begun
to walk, Miss Temple did not look back, to see how the youth bore this repulse;
but the head of Louisa was turned several times, before they reached the gate,
on that considerate errand.
“I am afraid,
Elizabeth,” she said, “that we have mortified Oliver. He is still standing
where we left him, leaning on his rod. Perhaps he thinks us proud.”
“He thinks justly,”
exclaimed Miss Temple, as if awaking from a deep musing; “he thinks justly,
then. We are too proud to admit of such particular attentions from a young man
in an equivocal situation. What! make him the companion of our most private
walks! It is pride, Louisa, but it is the pride of a woman.”
It was several minutes
before Oliver aroused himself from the abstracted position in which he was
standing when Louisa last saw him; but when he did, he muttered something,
rapidly and incoherently, and throwing his rod over his shoulder,he strode down
the walk, through the gate, and along one of the streets of the village, until
he reached the lake-shore, with the air of an emperor. At this spot boats were
kept, for the use of Judge Temple and his family. The young man threw himself
into a light skiff, and seizing the oars, he sent it across the lake, towards
the hut of Leather-stocking, with a pair of vigorous arms. By the time he had
rowed a quarter of a mile, his reflections were less bitter; and when he saw
the bushes that lined the shore in front of Natty’s habitation gliding by him,
as if they possessed the motion which proceeded from his own efforts, he was
quite cooled in mind, though somewhat heated in body. It is quite possible,
that the very same reason which guided the conduct of Miss Temple, suggested
itself to a man of the breeding and education of the youth; and it is very
certain, that if such were the case, Elizabeth rose instead of falling in the
estimation of Mr. Edwards.
The oars were now
raised from the water, and the boat shot close into the land, where it lay
gently agitated by waves of its own creating, while the young man, first
casting a cautious and searching glance around him in every direction, put a
small whistle to his mouth, and blew a long, shrill note, that rung far among
the echoing rocks behind the hut. At this alarm, the hounds of Natty rushed out
of their bark kennel, and commenced their long, piteous howls, leaping about as
if half frantic, though restrained by the leashes of buck-skin, by which they were
fastened.
“Quiet, Hector, quiet,”
said Oliver, again applying his whistle to his mouth, and drawing out notes
still more shrill than before. No reply was made, the dogs having returned to
their kennel at the sounds of his voice.
Edwards pulled the bows
of the boat on to theshore, and landing, ascended the beach and approached the
door of the cabin. The fastenings were soon undone, and he entered, closing the
door after him, when all was as silent, in that retired spot, as if the foot of
man had never trod the wilderness. The sounds of the hammers, that were in
incessant motion in the village, were faintly heard across the water; but the
dogs had crouched into their lairs, well satisfied that none but the privileged
had approached the forbidden ground.
A quarter of an hour
elapsed before the youth re-appeared, when he fastened the door again and spoke
kindly to the hounds. The dogs came out at the well-known tones, and the slut
jumped upon his person, whining and barking, as if entreating Oliver to release
her from her prison. But Old Hector raised his nose to the light current of
air, and opened a long howl, that might have been heard for a mile.
“Ha! what do you scent,
my old veteran of the woods?” cried Edwards. “If a beast, it is a bold one; and
if a man, an impudent.”
He sprung through the
top of a pine, that had fallen near the side of the hut, and ascended a small
hillock, that sheltered the cabin to the south, where he caught a glimpse of
the formal figure of Hiram Doolittle, as it vanished with an unusual rapidity
for the architect, amid the trees and bushes.
“What can that fellow
be wanting here?” muttered Oliver. “He has no business in this quarter, unless
it be his curiosity, which is an endemic in these woods. But against that I
will effectually guard, though the dogs should take a liking to his ugly
visage, and let him pass.” The youth returned to the door, while giving vent to
this soliloquy, and completed the fastenings, by placinga small chain through a
staple, and securing it there by a padlock. “He is a pettifogger, and surely
must know that there is such a thing as feloniously breaking into a man’s
house.”
Apparently well
satisfied with this arrangement, the youth again spoke to the hounds; and,
descending to the shore, he launched his boat, and taking up his oars, pulled
off into the lake.
There were several
places in the Otsego that were celebrated as fishing-ground for the perch. One
was nearly opposite to the cabin, and another, still more famous, was near a
point, at the distance of a mile and a half above it, under the brow of the
mountain, and on the same side of the lake with the hut. Oliver Edwards pulled
his little skiff over the first, and sat, for a minute, undecided whether to
continue there, with his eyes on the door of the cabin, or to change his
ground, with a view to get superior game. While gazing about him, he saw the
light-coloured bark canoe of his old companions, riding on the water, at the
point we have mentioned, and containing two figures, that he at once knew to be
Mohegan and the Leather-stocking. This decided the matter, and the youth pulled
his little boat, in a very few minutes, to the place where his friends were
fishing, and fastened it to the light vessel of the Indian.
The old men received
Oliver with welcoming nods of their heads, but neither drew his line from the
water, nor, in the least, varied his occupation. When Edwards had secured his
own boat, he baited his hook and threw it into the lake, without speaking.
“Did you stop at the
wigwam, lad, as you rowed by?” asked Natty.
“Yes, and I found all
safe; but that carpenter and justice of the peace, Mr. or, as they call him,
Squire Doolittle, was prowling through thewoods, nigh by. But I made sure of
the door, before I left the hut, and I think he is too great a coward to
approach the hounds.”
“There’s little to be
said in favour of that man,” said Natty, while he drew in a perch and baited
his hook. “He craves dreadfully to come into the cabin, and has as good as
asked me as much to my face; but I put him off with unsartain answers, so that
he is no wiser than Solomon. This comes of having so many laws that such a man
may be called on to intarpret them.”
“I fear he is more
knave than fool,” cried Edwards; “I see that he makes a tool of that simple man,
the Sheriff, and I dread that his impertinent curiosity may yet give us much
trouble.”
“If he harbours too
much about the cabin, lad, I’ll shoot the creater,” said the Leather-stocking,
quite coolly.
“No, no, Natty, you
must remember the law,” said Edwards, “or we shall have you in trouble; and
that, old man, would be an evil day, and sore tidings to us all.”
“Would it, boy!”
exclaimed the hunter, raising his eyes with a look of friendly interest towards
the youth. “You have the true blood in your veins, Mr. Oliver, and I’ll support
it, to the face of Judge Temple, or in any court in the country. How is it,
John? do I speak the true word? is the lad staunch, and of the right blood?”
“He is a Delaware,”
said Mohegan, “and my brother. The Young Eagle is brave, and he will be a
chief. No harm can come.”
“Well, well,” cried the
youth, impatiently; “say no more about it, my good friends; if I am not all
that your partiality would make me, I am yours through life--in prosperity as
in poverty. But now we will talk of other matters.”
The old hunters yielded
to his wish, which seemed to be their law. For a short time a profound silence
prevailed, during which each man was very busy with his hook and line; but
Edwards, probably feeling that it remained with him to renew the discourse,
soon observed, with the air of one who knew not what he said--
“How beautifully
tranquil and glassy the lake is. Saw you it ever more calm and even than at
this moment, Natty?”
“I have known the
Otsego water for five-and-forty year,” said Leather-stocking, “and I will say
that for it, which is, that a cleaner spring or a better fishing is not to be
found in the land. Yes, yes--I had the place to myself once; and a cheerful
time I had of it. The game was as plenty as heart could wish, and there was
none to meddle with the ground, unless there might have been a hunting party of
the Delawares crossing the hills, or, maybe, a rifling scout of them thieves,
the Iroquois. There was one or two Frenchmen that squatted in the flats, further
west, and married squaws; and some of the Scotch-Irishers, from the Cherry
Valley, would come on to the lake, and borrow my canoe, to take a mess of
parch, or drop a line for a salmon-trout; but, in the main, it was a cheerful
place, and I had but little to disturb me in it. John would come, and John
knows.”
Mohegan turned his dark
face, at this appeal, and, moving his hand forward with a graceful motion of
assent, he spoke, using the Delaware language--
“The land was owned by
my people: we gave it to my brother, in council--to the Fire-Eater; and what
the Delawares give, lasts as long as the waters run. Hawk-eye smoked at that
council, for we loved him.”
“No, no, John,” said
Natty, “I was no chief, seeing that I know’d nothing of scholarship, and had a
white skin. But it was a comfortable hunting-ground then, lad, and would have
been so to this day, but for the money of Marmaduke Temple, and, maybe, the
twisty ways of the law.”
“It must have been a
sight of melancholy pleasure, indeed,” said Edwards, while his eye roved along
the shores and over the hills, where the clearings, groaning with the golden
corn, were cheering the forests with the signs of life, “to have roamed over
these mountains, and along this sheet of beautiful water, without a living soul
to speak to, or to thwart your humour.”
“Haven’t I said it was
cheerful!” said Leather-stocking. “Yes, yes--when the trees begun to be kivered
with the leaves, and the ice was out of the lake, it was a second paradise. I
have travelled the woods for fifty-three year, and have made them my home for
more than forty, and I can say that I have met but one place that was more to
my liking; and that was only to eyesight, and not for hunting or fishing.”
“And where was that?”
asked Edwards.
“Where! why up on the
Cattskills. I used often to go up into the mountains after wolves’ skins, and
bears; once they bought me to get them a stuffed painter; and so I often went.
There’s a place in them hills that I used to climb to when I wanted to see the
carryings on of the world, that would well pay any man for a barked shin or a
torn moccasin. You know the Cattskills, lad, for you must have seen them on
your left, as you followed the river up from York, looking as blue as a piece
of clear sky, and holding the clouds on their tops, as the smoke curls overthe
head of an Indian chief at a council fire. Well, there’s the High-peak and the
Round-top, which lay back, like a father and mother among their children,
seeing they are far above all the other hills. But the place I mean is next to
the river, where one of the ridges juts out a little from the rest, and where
the rocks fall for the best part of a thousand feet, so much up and down, that
a man standing on their edges is fool enough to think he can jump from top to bottom.”
“What see you when you
get there?” asked Edwards.
“Creation!” said Natty,
dropping the end of his rod into the water, and sweeping one hand around him in
a circle--“all creation, lad. I was on that hill when Vaughan burnt ’Sopus, in
the last war, and I seen the vessels come out of the highlands as plain as I
can see that lime-scow rowing into the Susquehanna, though one was twenty times
further from me than the other. The river was in sight for seventy miles, under
my feet, looking like a curled shaving, though it was eight long miles to its
banks. I saw the hills in the Hampshire grants, the high lands of the river,
and all that God had done or man could do, as far as eye could reach--you know
that the Indians named me for my sight, lad--and from the flat on the top of
that mountain, I have often found the place where Albany stands; and as for ’Sopus!
the day the royal troops burnt the town, the smoke seemed so nigh, that I
thought I could hear the screeches of the women.”
“It must have been
worth the toil, to meet with such a glorious view!”
“If being the best part
of a mile in the air, and having men’s farms and housen at your feet, with
rivers looking like ribands, and mountains bigger than the ‘Vision,’ seeming to
be haystacks of greengrass under you, gives any satisfaction to a man, I can
recommend the spot. When I first come into the woods to live, I used to have
weak spells, and I felt lonesome; and then I would go into the Cattskills and
spend a few days on that hill, to look at the ways of man; but it’s now many a
year since I felt any such longings, and I’m getting too old for them rugged
rocks. But there’s a place, a short two miles back of that very hill, that in
late times I relished better than the mountain; for it was more kivered with the
trees, and more nateral.”
“And where was that?”
inquired Edwards, whose curiosity was strongly excited by the simple
description of the hunter.
“Why, there’s a fall in
the hills, where the water of two little ponds that lie near each other breaks
out of their bounds, and runs over the rocks into the valley. The stream is,
maybe, such a one as would turn a mill, if so useless a thing was wanted in the
wilderness. But the hand that made that ‘Leap’ never made a mill! There the
water comes crooking and winding among the rocks, first so slow that a trout
could swim in it, and then starting and running just like any creater that
wanted to make a far spring, till it gets to where the mountain divides, like
the cleft hoof of a deer, leaving a deep hollow for the brook to tumble into.
The first pitch is nigh two hundred feet, and the water looks like flakes of
driven snow, afore it touches the bottom; and there the stream gathers itself
together again for a new start, and maybe flutters over fifty feet of flatrock,
before it falls for another hundred, when it jumps about from shelf to shelf,
first turning this-away and then turning that-away, striving to get out of the
hollow, till it finally comes to the plain.”
“I have never heard of
this spot before!” exclaimed Edwards; “it is not mentioned in the books.”
“I never read a book in
my life,” said Leather-stocking; “and how should a man who has lived in towns
and schools know any thing about the wonders of the woods! No, no, lad; there
has that little stream of water been playing among them hills, since He made
the world, and not a dozen white men have ever laid eyes on it. The rock sweeps
like mason-work, in a half-round, on both sides of the fall, and shelves over
the bottom for fifty feet; so that when I’ve been sitting at the foot of the
first pitch, and my hounds have run into the caverns behind the sheet of water,
they’ve looked no bigger than so many rabbits. To my judgment, lad, it’s the
best piece of work that I’ve met with in the woods; and none know how often the
hand of God is seen in a wilderness, but them that rove it for a man’s life.”
“What becomes of the
water? in which direction does it run? Is it a tributary of the Delaware?”
“Anan!” said Natty.
“Does the water run
into the Delaware?”
“No, no, it’s a drop
for the old Hudson; and a merry time it has till it gets down off the mountain.
I’ve sat on the shelving rock many a long hour, boy, and watched the bubbles as
they shot by me, and thought how long it would be before that very water, which
seemed made for the wilderness, would be under the bottom of a vessel, and
tossing in the salt sea. It is a spot to make a man solemnize. You can see
right down into the valley that lies to the east of the High-Peak, where, in
the fall of the year, thousands of acres of woods are before your eyes, in the
deep hollow, and along the side of the mountain, painted like tenthousand
rainbows, by no hand of man, though without the ordering of God’s providence.”
“Why, you are eloquent,
Leather-stocking!” exclaimed the youth.
“Anan!” repeated Natty.
“The recollection of
the sight has warmed your blood, old man. How many years is it since you saw
the place?”
The hunter made no
reply; but, bending his ear near to the water, he sat for a minute, holding his
breath, and listening attentively, as if to some distant sound. At length he
raised his head, and said--
“If I hadn’t fastened
the hounds with my own hands, with a fresh leash of green buck-skin, I’d take a
Bible oath that I heard old Hector ringing his cry on the mountain.”
“It is impossible,”
said Edwards, “It is not an hour since I saw him in his kennel.”
By this time the
attention of Mohegan was attracted to the sounds; but, notwithstanding the
youth was both silent and attentive, he could hear nothing but the lowing of
some cattle from the western hills. He looked at the old men, Natty sitting
with his hand to his ear, like a trumpet, and Mohegan bending forward, with his
arm raised to a level with his face, holding the fore finger elevated as a
signal for attention, and laughed aloud at what he deemed to be their imaginary
sounds.
“Laugh if you will,
boy,” said Leather-stocking, “the hounds be out, and are hunting a deer. No man
can deceive me in such a matter. I wouldn’t have had the thing happen for a beaver’s
skin. Not that I care for the law! but the venison is lean now, and the dumb
things run the flesh off their bones for no good. Now do you hear the hounds?”
Edwards started, as a
full cry broke on his ear, changing from the distant sounds that were caused by
some intervening hill, to the confused echoes that rung among the rocks that
the dogs were passing, and then directly to a deep and hollow baying that
pealed under the forest on the lake shore. These variations in the tones of the
hounds passed with amazing rapidity, and while his eyes were glancing along the
margin of the water, a tearing of the branches of the alder and dog-wood caught
his attention, at a spot near them, and, at the next moment a noble buck sprung
on the shore, and buried himself in the lake. A fullmouthed cry, directly from
the lungs of the hounds, followed, when Hector and the slut shot through the
opening in the bushes, and darted into the lake also, bearing their breasts
most gallantly to the water.
“Oft in the
full-descending flood he tries
To lose the scent, and
lave his burning sides.”
Thomson
“I know’d it--I know’d
it!” cried Natty, when both deer and hounds were in full view;-- “the buck has
gone by them with the wind, and it has been too much for the poor rogues; but I
must break them of these tricks, or they’ll give me a deal of trouble. He-ere,
he-ere--shore with you, rascals--shore with you--will ye?--Oh! off with you,
old Hector, or I’ll hatchel your hide with my ramrod when I get ye.”
The dog’s knew their
master’s voice, and after swimming in a circle, as if reluctant to give over
the chase, and yet afraid to persevere, they finally obeyed, and returned to
the land, where they filled the air with their howlings and cries.
In the mean time, the deer,
urged by his fears, had swam over half the distance between the shore and the
boats, before his terror permitted him to see the new danger. But at the sounds
of Natty’s voice he turned short in his course, and for a few moments, seemed
about to rush back again, and brave the dogs. His retreat in this direction
was, however, effectually cut off, and, turning a secondtime, he urged his
course obliquely for the centre of the lake, with an intention of landing on
the western shore. As the buck swam by the fishermen, raising his nose high
into the air, curling the water before his slim neck like the beak of a galley,
throwing his legs forward, and gliding along with incredible velocity, the
Leather-stocking began to sit very uneasy in his canoe.
“’Tis a noble creater!”
he exclaimed; “what a pair of horns! a man might hang up all his garments on
the branches. Lets me see--July is the last month, and the flesh must be
getting good.” While he was talking, Natty had instinctively employed himself
in fastening the inner end of the bark rope, that served him for a cable, to a
paddle, and, rising suddenly on his legs, he cast this buoy away from him, and
cried-- “Strike out, John! let her go. The creater’s a fool to tempt a man in
this way.”
Mohegan threw the fastening
of the youth’s boat off the canoe, and, with one stroke of his paddle sent the
light bark over the water like a meteor.
“Hold!” exclaimed
Edwards. “Remember the law, my old friends. You are in plain sight of the
village, and I know that Judge Temple is determined to prosecute all,
indiscriminately, who kill the deer out of season.”
But the remonstrance
came too late; the canoe was already far from the skiff, and the two hunters
too much engaged in their pursuit to listen to his voice.
The buck was now within
fifty yards of his pursuers, cutting the water most gallantly, and snorting at
each breath with his terror and his exertions, while the canoe seemed to dance
over the waves, as it rose and fell with the undulations made by its own
motion. Leather-stocking raisedhis rifle and freshened the priming, but stood
in suspense whether to slay his victim or not.
“Shall I, John, or no?”
he said. “It seems but a poor advantage to take of the dumb thing, too. I won’t;
it has taken to the water on its own nater, which is the reason that God has
given to a deer, and I’ll give it the lake play; so, John, lay out your arm,
and mind the turn of the buck; it’s easy to catch them, but they’ll turn like a
snake.”
The Indian laughed at
the conceit of his friend, but continued to send the canoe forward with a
velocity that proceeded much more from his skill than his strength. Both of the
old men now used the language of the Delawares when they spoke.
“Hooh!” exclaimed
Mohegan; “the deer turns his head. Hawk-eye, lift your spear.”
Natty never moved
abroad without taking with him every implement that might, by possibility, be
of service in his pursuits. From his rifle he never parted; and, although
intending to fish with the line, the canoe was invariably furnished with all of
its utensils, even to its grate. This precaution grew out of the habits of the
hunter, who was often led, by his necessities or his sports, far beyond the
limits of his original destination. A few years earlier than the date of our
tale, the Leather-stocking had left his hut on the shores of the Otsego, with
his rifle and his hounds, for a few days’ hunting in the hills; but before he
returned, he had seen the waters of the Ontario. One, two, or even three
hundred miles, had once been nothing to his sinews, which were now a little
stiffened by age. The hunter did as Mohegan advised, and prepared to strike a
blow with the barbed weapon into the neck of the buck.
“Lay her more to the
left, John,” he cried,“lay her more to the left; another stroke of the paddle,
and I have him.”
While speaking, he
raised the spear, and darted it from him like an arrow. At that instant the
buck turned. The long pole glanced by him, the iron striking against his horn,
and buried itself, harmlessly, in the lake.
“Back water,” cried
Natty, as the canoe glided over the place where the spear had fallen, “hold
water, John.”
The pole soon
re-appeared, shooting upward from the lake, and as the hunter seized it in his
hand, the Indian whirled the light canoe round, where it lay, and renewed the
chase. But this evolution gave the buck a great advantage; and it also allowed
time for Edwards to approach the scene of action.
“Hold your hand, Natty,”
cried the youth, “hold your hand; remember it is out of season.”
This remonstrance was
made as the batteau arrived close to where the deer was struggling with the
water, his back now rising to the surface, now sinking beneath it, as the waves
curled from his neck, the animal sustaining itself nobly against the odds.
“Hurrah!” shouted Edwards,
inflamed beyond prudence at the sight; “mind him as he doubles --mind him as he
doubles; sheer more to the right, Mohegan, more to the right, and I’ll have him
by the horns; I’ll throw the rope over his antlers.”
The dark eye of the old
warrior was dancing in his head, with a wild animation, as bright and natural
as the rays that shot from the glancing organs of the terrified deer himself,
and the sluggish repose in which his aged frame had been resting in the canoe,
was now changed to all the rapid inflections of a practised agility. The canoe
whirled, with each cunning evolution of the chase, like a bubble floating in a
whirlpool; and when the direction of the pursuit admitted, for a short
distance, of a straight course, the little bark skimmed the lake with a
velocity that urged the deer to seek its safety in some new and unexpected
turn. It was the frequency of these circuitous movements, that, by confining
the action to so small a compass, enabled the youth to keep near his
companions. More than twenty times both the pursued and the pursuers glided by
him, just without the reach of his oars, until he thought the best way to view
the sport was to remain stationary, and, by watching a favorable opportunity,
assist as much as he could in taking their intended victim.
He was not required to
wait long, for no sooner had he adopted this resolution, and risen in the boat,
than he saw the deer coming bravely towards him, with an apparent intention of
pushing for a point of land at some distance from the hounds, who were still
barking and howling on the shore. Edwards caught the painter of his skiff, and,
making a noose, cast it from him with all his force, and luckily succeeded in
drawing its knot close around one of the antlers of the buck.
For one instant, the
skiff was drawn through the water, but in the next, the canoe glided before it,
and Natty, bending low, passed his knife across the throat of the animal, whose
blood followed the wound, dying the waters for many feet. The short time that
was passed in the last struggles of the animal, was spent by the hunters in
bringing their boats together, and securing them in that position, when
Leather-stocking drew the deer from the water, and laid its lifeless form in
the bottom of the canoe. He placed his hands on the ribs, and on different
parts of the body of hisprize, and then, raising his head, he laughed in his
peculiar manner, saying--
“So much for Marmaduke
Temple’s law! This warms a body’s blood, old John; I haven’t killed a buck in
the lake afore this, sin’ this many a year. I call that good venison, lad; and
I know them that will relish the creater’s steaks, for all the betterments in
the land.”
The Indian had long
been drooping with his years, and perhaps under the calamities of his race, but
this invigorating and exciting sport had caused a gleam of sunshine to cross
his swarthy face that had long been absent from his features. It was evident
that the old man enjoyed the chase more as a memorial of his youthful sports
and deeds, than with any expectation of profiting by the success. He felt the
deer, however, lightly, his hand already trembling with the re-action of his
unusual exertions, and smiled with a nod of approbation, as he said, in the
emphatic and sententious manner of his people--
“Good.”
“I am afraid, Natty,”
said Edwards, when the heat of the moment had passed, and his blood began to
cool, “that we have all been equally transgressors of the law. But keep your
own counsel, and there are none here to betray us. Yet, how came those dogs at
large? I left them securely fastened, I know, for I felt the thongs, and
examined the knots, when I was at the hut.”
“It has been too much
for the poor things,” said Natty, “to have such a buck take the wind of them.
See, lad, the pieces of the buck-skin are hanging from their necks yet. Let us
paddle up, John, and I will call them in, and look a little into the matter.”
When the old hunter
landed, and examined the thongs that were yet fast to the hounds, his
countenance sensibly changed, and he shook his head doubtingly.
“Here has been a knife
at work,” he said-- “this skin was never torn, nor is this the mark of a hound’s
tooth. No, no--Hector is not in fault, as I feared.”
“Has the leather been
cut?” cried Edwards.
“No, no--I didn’t say
it had been cut, lad; but this is a mark that was never made by a jump or a
bite.”
“Could that rascally
carpenter have dared!” exclaimed the impetuous youth.
“Ay! he durst to do any
thing, where there is no danger,” said Natty; “he is a curious body, and loves
to be helping other people on with their concarns. But he had best not harbour
so much near the wigwam!”
In the mean time,
Mohegan had been examining, with an Indian’s sagacity, the place where the
leather thong had been separated. After scrutinizing it closely, he said, in
Delaware--
“It was cut with a
knife--a sharp blade and a long handle--and the man was afraid of the dogs.”
“How is this, Mohegan?”
exclaimed Edwards; “You saw it not! how can you know these facts?”
“Listen, son,” said the
warrior. “The knife was sharp, for the cut is smooth;--the handle was long, for
a man’s arm would not reach from this gash to that cut that did not go through
the skin; --he was a coward, or he would have cut the thongs around the necks
of the hounds.”
“On my life,” cried
Natty, “John is on the scent! It was that carpenter; and he had got on the rock
back of the kennel, and let the dogs loose by fastening his knife to a stick.
It wouldbe an easy matter to do it, when a man is so minded.”
“And why should he do
so?” asked Edwards; “who has done him wrong, that he should trouble two old men
like you?”
“It’s a hard matter,
lad, to know men’s ways, I find, since the settlers have brought in their new
fashions. But is there nothing to be found out in this place? and maybe he is
troubled with his longings after other people’s business, as he often is.”
“Your suspicions are
just,” cried the youth, “Give me the canoe: I am young and strong, and will get
down there yet, perhaps, in time to interrupt his plans. Heaven forbid, that we
should be at the mercy of such a man!”
His proposal was
instantly accepted, the deer being placed in the skiff in order to lighten the
canoe, and in less than five minutes the little vessel of bark was gliding over
the glassy lake, and was soon hid by the points of land, as it shot close along
the shore.
Mohegan followed slowly
with the skiff, while Natty called his hounds to him, bad them keep close, and,
shouldering his rifle, he ascended the mountain, with an intention of going to
the hut by land.
“Ask me not what the
maiden feels,
Left in that dreadful hour alone; Perchance,
her reason stoops, or reels;
Perchance, a courage not her own, Braces her mind to desperate tone.”
Scott
While the chase was
occurring on the lake, Miss Temple and her companion pursued their walk with
the activity of youth. Male attendants, on such excursions, were thought to be
altogether unnecessary, for none were ever known, there, to offer an insult to
a female who respected the dignity of her own sex. After the embarrassment,
that had been created by their parting discourse with Edwards, had dissipated
itself, the girls maintained a conversation that was as innocent and cheerful
as themselves.
The path they had taken
led them but a short distance above the hut of Leather-stocking, and there was
a point in the road which commanded a birds-eye view of the sequestered spot.
From a feeling, that
might have been natural, but must have been powerful, neither of the maidens,
in their frequent and confidential dialogues, had ever trusted herself to utter
one syllable concerning the equivocal situation in which the young man, who was
now so intimately associated with them, had been found. If Judge Temple had
deemed it prudentto make any inquiries on the subject, he had also thought it
proper to keep the answers to himself; though it was so common an occurrence to
find the well-educated youth of the eastern states, in every stage of their
career to wealth, that the simple circumstance of his intelligence, connected
with his poverty, would not, at that day, and in that country, have excited any
very powerful curiosity. With his breeding it might have been different; but
the youth himself had so effectually guarded against any surprise on this
subject, by his cold, and even in some cases, rude deportment, that when his
manners seemed to soften by time, the Judge, if he thought about it at all,
would have been most likely to imagine that the improvement was the result of
his late association. But women are always more alive to such subjects than
men; and what the abstraction of the father had overlooked, the observation of
the daughter had easily detected. In the thousand little courtesies of polished
life, she had early discovered that Edwards was not wanting, though his
gentleness was so often crossed by marks of what she conceived to be fierce and
uncontrollable passions. It may, perhaps, be unnecessary to tell the reader
that Louisa Grant never reasoned so much after the fashions of the world. The
gentle girl, however, had her own thoughts on the subject, and, like others,
she drew her own conclusions.
“I would give all my
other secrets, Louisa,” exclaimed Miss Temple, laughing, and shaking back her
dark locks, with a look of childish simplicity that her intelligent face seldom
expressed, “to be mistress of all that those rude logs have heard and
witnessed.”
They were both looking
at the secluded hut,at the instant, and Miss Grant raised her mild eyes, as she
answered--
“I am sure they would
tell nothing to the disadvantage of Mr. Edwards.”
“Perhaps not; but they
might tell who he is.”
“Why, dear Miss Temple,
we know all that already,” returned the other; “I have heard it all very
rationally explained by your cousin”--
“The executive chief!”
interrupted Elizabeth-- “yes, yes, he can explain any thing. His ingenuity will
one day discover the philosopher’s stone. But what did he say?”
“Say!” echoed Louisa,
with a look of surprise; “why every thing that seemed to me to be satisfactory;
and I have believed it to be true. He said that Natty Bumppo had lived most of
his life in the woods, and among the Indians, by which means he had formed an
acquaintance with old John, the Delaware chief.”
“Indeed! that was quite
a matter of fact tale for cousin Dickon. What came next?”
“I believe he accounted
for their close intimacy, by some story about the Leather-stocking saving the
life of John in a battle.”
“Nothing more likely,”
said Elizabeth, a little impatiently; “but what is all this to the purpose?”
“Nay, Elizabeth, you must
bear with my ignorance, and I will repeat all that I remember to have
overheard; for the dialogue was between my father and the Sheriff, so lately as
the last time they met. He then added, that the kings of England used to keep
gentlemen as agents among the different tribes of Indians, and sometimes
officers in the army, who frequently passed half their lives on the edge of the
wilderness.”
“Told with a wonderful
historical accuracy! And did he end there?”
“Oh! no--then he said
that these agents seldom married; and--and--they must have been wicked men,
Elizabeth! but then he said--that-- that”--
“Never mind,” said Miss
Temple, blushing and smiling, though so slightly that both were unheeded by her
companion--“skip all that.”
“Well, then he said that
they often took great pride in the education of their children, whom they
frequently sent to England, and even to the colleges; and this is the way that
he accounts for the liberal manner in which Mr. Edwards has been taught; for he
acknowledges that he knows almost as much as himself, or your father--or even
mine.”
“Quite a climax in
learning!” cried the heiress--“commencing with the last, I suppose. And so he
made Mohegan the grand uncle or grandfather of Oliver Edwards.”
“You have heard him
yourself, then?” said Louisa.
“Often; but not on this
subject. Mr. Richard Jones, you know, dear, has a theory for every thing; but
has he one which will explain the reason why that hut is the only habitation
within fifty miles of us, whose door is not open to every person that may
choose to lift its latch?”
“I have never heard him
say any thing on this subject,” returned the clergyman’s daughter; “but I
suppose that, as they are poor, they very naturally are anxious to keep the
little that they honestly own It is sometimes dangerous to be rich, Miss
Temple; but you cannot know how hard it is to be very, very poor.”
“Nor you neither, I
trust, Louisa; at least I should hope, that in this land of abundance, no
minister of the church could be left to absolute suffering.”
“There cannot be actual
misery,” returned the other, in a low and humble tone, “where there is a
dependence on our Maker; but there may be such suffering as will cause the
heart to ache.”
“But not you--not you,”
said the impetuous Elizabeth--“not you, dear girl; you have never known the
misery that is connected with poverty.”
“Ah! Miss Temple, you
little understand the troubles of this life, I believe. My father has spent
many years as a missionary, in the new countries, where his people were poor,
and frequently we have been without bread; unable to buy, and ashamed to beg,
because we would not disgrace his sacred calling. But how often have I seen him
leave his home, where the sick and the hungry felt, when he left them, that
they had lost their only earthly friend, to ride on a duty which could not be
neglected for domestic evils. Oh! how hard it must be, to preach consolation to
others, when your own heart is bursting with anguish!”
“But it is all over
now!” exclaimed Elizabeth, “your father’s income must now be equal to his
wants--it must be--it shall be”--
“It is,” replied
Louisa, dropping her head on her bosom to conceal the tears which flowed in
spite of her gentle Christianity, “for there are none left to be supplied but
me.”
The turn the
conversation had taken drove from the minds of the young maidens all other
thoughts but those of holy charity, and Elizabeth folded her friend in her
arms, who gave vent to her momentary grief in audible sobs. When this burst of
emotion had subsided, Louisa raised her mild countenance, and they continued
their walk in silence.
By this time they had
gained the summit of the mountain, where they left the highway, and pursued
their course, under the shade of the stately trees that crowned the eminence.
The day was becoming warm, and the girls plunged more deeply into the forest,
as they found its invigorating coolness agreeably contrasted to the excessive
heat they had experienced in their ascent. The conversation, as if by mutual
consent, was entirely changed to the little incidents and scenes of their walk,
and every tall pine, and every shrub or flower, called forth some simple
expression of admiration.
In this manner they
proceeded along the margin of the precipice, catching occasional glimpses of
the placid Otsego, or pausing to listen to the rattling of wheels and the
sounds of hammers, that rose from the valley, to mingle the signs of men with
the scenes of nature, when Elizabeth suddenly started, and exclaimed--
“Listen! there are the
cries of a child on this mountain! is there a clearing near us? or can some
little one have strayed from its parents?”
“Such things frequently
happen,” returned Louisa. “Let us follow the sounds; it may be a wanderer
starving on the hill.”
Urged by this
consideration, the females pursued the low, mournful sounds, that proceeded
from the forest, with quick and impatient steps. More than once, the ardent
Elizabeth was on the point of announcing that she saw the sufferer, when Louisa
caught her by the arm, and pointing behind them, cried--
“Look at the dog!”
Brave had been their
companion, from the time the voice of his young mistress lured him from his
kennel, to the present moment. His advanced age had long before deprived him of
his activity; and when his companions stopped to view the scenery, or to add to
their bouquets,the mastiff would lay his huge frame on the ground, and await
their movements, with his eyes closed, and a listlessness in his air that ill
accorded with the character of a protector. But when, aroused by this cry from
Louisa, Miss Temple turned, she saw the dog with his eyes keenly set on some
distant object, his head bent near the ground, and his hair actually rising on
his body, either through fright or anger. It was most probably the latter, for
he was growling in a low key, and occasionally showing his teeth, in a manner
that would have terrified his mistress, had she not so well known his good
qualities.
“Brave!” she said, “be
quiet, Brave! what do you see, fellow!”
At the sounds of her
voice, the rage of the mastiff, instead of being at all diminished, was very
sensibly increased. He stalked in front of the ladies, and seated himself at
the feet of his mistress, growling louder than before. and occasionally giving
vent to his ire by a short, surly barking.
“What does he see?”
said Elizabeth, “there must be some animal in sight.”
Hearing no answer from
her companion, Miss Temple turned her head, and beheld Louisa, standing with
her face whitened to the colour of death, and her finger pointing upward, with
a sort of flickering, convulsed motion. The quick eye of Elizabeth glanced in
the direction indicated by her friend, where she saw the fierce front and
glaring eyes of a female panther, fixed on them in horrid malignity, and
threatening instant destruction.
“Let us fly!” exclaimed
Elizabeth, grasping the arm of Louisa, whose form yielded like melting snow,
and sunk lifeless to the earth.
There was not a single
feeling in the temperament of Elizabeth Temple, that could prompt her to desert
a companion in such an extremity; and she fell on her knees, by the side of the
inanimate Louisa, tearing from the person of her friend, with an instinctive
readiness, such parts of her dress as might obstruct her respiration, and
encouraging their only safeguard, the dog, at the same time, by the sounds of
her voice.
“Courage, Brave!” she
cried, her own tones beginning to tremble, “courage, courage, good Brave.”
A quarter-grown cub,
that had hitherto been unseen, now appeared, dropping from the branches of a sapling
that grew under the shade of the beech which held its dam. This ignorant, but
vitious creature, approached the dog, imitating the actions and sounds of its
parent, but exhibiting a strange mixture of the playfulness of a kitten with
the ferocity of its race. Standing on its hind legs, it would rend the bark of
a tree with its fore paws, and play all the antics of a cat, for a moment; and
then, by lashing itself with its tail, growling, and scratching the earth, it
would attempt the manifestations of anger that rendered its parent so terrific.
All this time Brave
stood firm and undaunted, his short tail erect, his body drawn backward on its
haunches, and his eyes following the movements of both dam and cub. At every
gambol played by the latter, it approached nigher to the dog, the growling of
the three becoming more horrid at each moment, until the younger beast
overleaping its intended bound, fell directly before the mastiff. There was a
moment of fearful cries and struggles, but they ended almost as soon as
commenced, by the cub appearing in the air, hurled from the jaws of Brave, with
a violence that sentit against a tree so forcibly, as to render it completely
senseless.
Elizabeth witnessed the
short struggle, and her blood was warming with the triumph of the dog, when she
saw the form of the old panther in the air, springing twenty feet from the
branch of the beech to the back of the mastiff. No words of ours can describe
the fury of the conflict that followed. It was a confused struggle on the dried
leaves, accompanied by loud and terrific cries Miss Temple continued on her
knees, bending over the form of Louisa, her eyes fixed on the animals, with an
interest so horrid, and yet so intense, that she almost forgot her own stake in
the result. So rapid and vigorous were the bounds of the inhabitant of the
forest, that its active frame seemed constantly in the air, while the dog nobly
faced his foe, at each successive leap. When the panther lighted on the
shoulders of the mastiff, which was its constant aim, old Brave, though torn
with her talons, and stained with his own blood, that already flowed from a
dozen wounds, would shake off his furious foe, like a feather, and rearing on
his hind legs, rush to the fray again, with his jaws distended, and a dauntless
eye. But age, and his pampered life, greatly disqualified the noble mastiff for
such a struggle. In every thing but courage, he was only the vestige of what he
had once been. A higher bound than ever, raised the wary and furious beast far
beyond the reach of the dog, who was making a desperate but fruitless dash at
her, from which she alighted in a favourable position, on the back of her aged
foe. For a single moment, only, could the panther remain there, the great
strength of the dog returning with a convulsive effort. But Elizabeth saw, as
Brave fastened his teeth in the side of his enemy, that the collar of brass
around hisneck, which had been glittering throughout the fray, was of the
colour of blood, and directly, that his frame was sinking to the earth, where
it soon lay prostrate and helpless. Several mighty efforts of the wild-cat to
extricate herself from the jaws of the dog, followed, but they were fruitless,
until the mastiff turned on his back, his lips collapsed, and his teeth
loosened; when the short convulsions and stillness that succeeded, announced
the death of poor Brave.
Elizabeth now lay
wholly at the mercy of the beast. There is said to be something in the front of
the image of the Maker, that daunts the hearts of the inferior beings of his
creation; and it would seem that some such power, in the present instance,
suspended the threatened blow. The eyes of the monster and the kneeling maiden
met, for an instant, when the former stooped to examine her fallen foe; next to
scent her luckless cub. From the latter examination it turned, however, with
its eyes apparently emitting flashes of fire, its tail lashing its sides
furiously, and its claws projecting for inches from its broad feet.
Miss Temple did not, or
could not move. Her hands were clasped in the attitude of prayer, but her eyes
were still drawn to her terrible enemy; her cheeks were blanched to the
whiteness of marble, and her lips were slightly separated with horror. The
moment seemed now to have arrived for the fatal termination, and the beautiful
figure of Elizabeth was bowing meekly to the stroke, when a rustling of leaves
from behind seemed rather to mock the organs, than to meet her ears.
“Hist! hist!” said a
low voice--“stoop lower, gal; your bunnet hides the creater’s head.”
It was rather the
yielding of nature than a compliance with this unexpected order, that causedthe
head of our heroine to sink on her bosom; when she heard the report of the
rifle, the whizzing of the bullet, and the enraged cries of the beast, who was
rolling over on the earth, biting its own flesh, and tearing the twigs and
branches within its reach. At the next instant the form of the Leather stocking
rushed by her, and he called aloud--
“Come in, Hector, come
in, you old fool; ’tis a hard-lived animal, and may jump ag’in.”
Natty maintained his
position in front of the maidens, most fearlessly, notwithstanding the violent
bounds and threatening aspect of the wounded panther, which gave several
indications of returning strength and ferocity, until his rifle was again
loaded, when he stepped up to the enraged animal, and, placing the muzzle close
to its head, every spark of life was extinguished by the discharge.
The death of her
terrible enemy appeared to Elizabeth like a resurrection from her own grave.
There was an elasticity in the mind of our heroine, that rose to meet the
pressure of instant danger, and the more direct to the senses her apprehensions
came, the more her nature had struggled to overcome them. But still she was
woman. Had she been left to herself, in her late extremity, she would probably
have used her faculties to the utmost, and with discretion, in protecting her
person, but encumbered with her inanimate friend, retreat was a thing not to be
attempted.-- Notwithstanding the fearful aspect of her foe, the eye of
Elizabeth had never shrunk from its gaze, and long after the event, her
thoughts would recur to her passing sensations, and the sweetness of her
midnight sleep would be disturbed, as her active fancy conjured in dreams, the
most trifling movements of savage fury, that the beast had exhibited in its
moment of power.
We shall leave the
reader to imagine the restoration of Louisa’s senses, and the expressions of
gratitude which fell from the young women. The former was effected by a little
water, that was brought from one of the thousand springs of those mountains, in
the cap of the Leather-stocking; and the latter were uttered with all the
warmth that might be expected from the character of Elizabeth. Natty received
her vehement protestations of gratitude, with a simple expression of good will,
and with indulgence for her present excitement, but with a carelessness that
showed how little he thought of the service he had rendered.
“Well, well,” he said, “be
it so, gal; let it be so, if you wish it--we’ll talk the thing over another
time; but I’m sore afeard you’ll find Mr. Oliver a better companion than an old
hunter, like me. Come, come--let us get into the road, for you’ve had tirror
enough to make you wish yourself in your father’s house ag’in.”
This was uttered as
they were proceeding, at a pace that was adapted to the weakness of Louisa,
towards the highway; on reaching which the ladies separated from their guide,
declaring themselves equal to the remainder of their walk without his
assistance, and feeling encouraged by the sight of the village, which lay
beneath their feet, like a picture, with its limpid lake in front, the winding
stream along its margin, and its hundred chimneys of whitened bricks.
The reader need not be
told the nature of the emotions, which two youthful, ingenuous, and
well-educated girls would experience, at their escape from a death so horrid as
the one which had impended over them, while they pursued their way in silence
along the track on theside of the mountain; nor how deep were their mental
thanks to that Power which had given them their existence, and which had not
deserted them in their extremity; neither how often they pressed each other’s
arms, as the assurance of their present safety came, like a healing balm,
athwart their troubled spirits, when their thoughts were recurring to the
recent moments of horror.
Leather-stocking
remained on the hill, gazing after their retiring figures, until they were hid
by a bend in the road, when he whistled in his dogs, and, shouldering his
rifle, he returned into the forest.
“Well, it was a skeary
thing to the young creaters,” said Natty, while he retrod the path towards the
slain. “It might frighten an older woman, to see a she-painter so near her,
with a dead eub by its side. I wonder if I had aimed at the varmint’s eye, if I
shouldn’t have touched the life sooner than in the forehead? but they are
hard-lived animals, and it was a good shot, consid’ring that I could see
nothing but the head and peak of its tail. Hah! who goes there?”
“How goes it, Natty?”
said Mr. Doolittle, stepping out of the bushes, with a motion that was a good
deal accelerated by the sight of the rifle, that was already lowered in his
direction. “What! shooting this warm day! mind, old man, the law don’t get hold
on you.”
“The law, Squire! I
have shook hands with the law these forty year,” returned Natty; “for what has
a man who lives in the wilderness to do with the ways of the law?”
“Not much, maybe,” said
Hiram; “but you sometimes trade in ven’son. I s’pose you know,
Leather-stocking, that there is an act passed to lay a fine of five pounds
currency, or twelve dollars and fifty cents, by decimals, on every manwho kills
a deer betwixt January and August. The Judge had a great hand in getting the
law through.”
“I can believe it,”
returned the old hunter; “I can believe that, or any thing, of a man who
carries on as he does in the country.”
“Yes, the law is quite
positive, and the Judge is bent on putting it in force--five pounds penalty. I
thought I heerd your hounds out on the scent of so’thing this morning: I didn’t
know but they might get you in difficulty.”
“They know their
manners too well,” said Natty, carelessly. “And how much goes to the state’s
evidence, Squire?”
“How much!” repeated
Hiram, quailing under the honest, but sharp look of the hunter--“the informer
gets half, I--I b’lieve;--yes, I guess it’s half. But there’s blood on your
sleeve, man;-- you haven’t been shooting any thing this morning?”
“I have, though,” said
the hunter, nodding his head significantly to the other, “and a good shot I
made of it.”
“He-e-m!” ejaculated
the magistrate; “and where is the game? I s’pose it’s of a good nater, for your
dogs won’t hunt any thing that isn’t choish.”
“They’ll hunt any thing
I tell them to, Squire,” cried Natty, favouring the other with his laugh. “They’ll
hunt you, if I say so. He-e-e-re, he-e-e-re, Hector--he-e-e-re, slut--come this
a-way, pups--come this a-way--come hither.”
“Oh! I’ve always heern
a good character of the dogs,” returned Mr. Doolittle, quickening his pace by
raising each leg in rapid succession, as the hounds scented around his person. “And
where is the game, Leather-stocking?”
During this dialogue,
the speakers had beenwalking at a very fast gait, and Natty swung the end of
his rifle round, pointing through the bushes, and replied--
“There lays one. How do
you like such meat?”
“This!” exclaimed
Hiram, “why this is Judge Temple’s dog Brave. Take kear, Leather-stocking, and
don’t make an inimy of the Judge. I hope you haven’t harmed the animal?”
“Look for yourself, Mr.
Doolittle,” said Natty, drawing his knife from his girdle, and wiping it, in a
knowing manner, once or twice across his garment of buck-skin; “does his throat
look as if I had cut it with this knife?”
“It is dreadfully tore!
it’s an awful wownd-- no knife never did this deed. Who could have done it?”
“That painter behind
you, Squire--look, there’s two of them.”
“Painters!” echoed
Hiram, whirling on his heel, with an agility that would have done credit to a
dancing master; “where’s a painter?”
“Be easy, man,” said
Natty; “there’s two of the vinimous things; but the dog finished one, and I
have fastened the other’s jaws for her; so you needn’t look so skeared, Squire;
they won’t hurt you.”
“And where’s the deer?”
cried Hiram, staring about him with a bewildered air.
“Anan! deer!” repeated
Natty.
“Sartain, an’t there
ven’son here, or didn’t you kill a buck?”
“What! when the law
forbids the thing, Squire!” said the old hunter. “I hope there’s no law ag’in
killing the painters.”
“No; there’s a bounty
on the scalps--but-- will your dogs hunt painters, Natty?”
“Any thing;--didn’t I
tell you they’d hunt a man? He-e-re, he-e-re, pups”--
“Oh! Yes, yes, I
remember. Well, they are strange dogs, I must say--I am quite in a wonderment.”
Natty had seated
himself on the ground, and having laid the grim head of his late ferocious
enemy in his lap, was drawing his knife with a practised hand, around the ears,
which he tore from the head of the beast in such a manner as to preserve their
connexion, when he answered--
“What at, Squire? did
you never see a painter’s scalp afore? Come, you be a magistrate, I wish you’d
make me out an order for the bounty.”
“The bounty!” repeated
Hiram, holding the ears on the end of his finger, for a moment, as if uncertain
how to proceed. “Well, let us go down to your hut, where you can take the oath,
and I will write out the order. I s’pose you have a bible? all the law wants is
the four evangelists and the Lord’s prayer.”
“I rather guess not,”
said Natty, a little coldly; “not such a bible as the law needs.”
“Oh! there’s but one
sort of bible, at least that’s good in law,” returned the magistrate; “and
yourn will do as well as another’s. Come, the carcasses are worth nothing, man;
let us go down and take the oath.”
“Softly, softly,
Squire,” said the hunter, lifting his trophies very deliberately from the
ground, and shouldering his rifle; “why do you want an oath at all, for a thing
that your own eyes has seen? won’t you believe yourself, that another man must
swear to a fact that you know to be true? You seen me scalp the creaters, and
if I must swear to it, it shall be before Judge Temple, who needs an oath.”
“But we have no pen or
paper here, Leather-stocking; we must go to the hut for them, or how can I
write the order?”
Natty turned his simple
features on the cunning magistrate with another of his laughs, as he said--
“And what should I be
doing with such scholars tools? I want no pens or paper, not knowing the use of
’ither; and so I keep none. No, no, I’ll bring the scalps into the village,
Squire, and you can make out the order on one of your lawbooks, and it will be
all the better for it. The deuce take this leather on the neck of the dog, it
will strangle the old fool. Can you lend me a knife, Squire?”
Hiram, who seemed
particularly anxious to be on good terms with his companion, unhesitatingly
complied. Natty cut the thong from the neck of the hound, and, as he returned
the knife to its owner, carelessly remarked--
“’Tis a good bit of
steel, and has cut such leather as this very same before now, I dare to say.”
“Do you mean to charge
me with letting your hounds loose!” exclaimed Hiram, with a consciousness that
disarmed his caution.
“Loose!” repeated the
hunter--“I let them loose myself. I always let them loose before I leave the
hut.”
The ungovernable
amazement with which Mr. Doolittle listened to this falsehood, would have
betrayed his agency in the liberation of the dogs, had Natty wanted any further
confirmation; and the coolness and management of the old man now disappeared in
open indignation.
“Look you here, Mr.
Doolittle,” he said, striking the breech of his rifle violently on the ground; “what
there is in the wigwam of a poor man like me, that one like you can crave, I
don’t know; butthis I tell you to your face, that you never shall put a foot
under the roof of my cabin with my consent, and that if you harbour round the
spot as you have done lately, you may meet with treatment that you won’t over
and above relish.”
“And let me tell you,
Mr. Bumppo,” said Hiram, retreating, however, with a quick step, “that I know
you’ve broke the law, and that I’m a magistrate, and will make you feel it too,
before you are a day older.”
“That for you and your
law too,” cried Natty, snapping his fingers at the justice of the peace --“away
with you, you varmint, before the divil tempts me to give you your desarts.
Take kear, if I ever catch your prowling face in the woods ag’in, that I don’t
shoot it for an owl.”
There is something at
all times commanding in honest indignation, and Hiram did not stay to provoke
the wrath of the old hunter to extremities. When the intruder was out of sight,
Natty proceeded to the hut, where he found all quiet’s as the grave. He
fastened his dogs, and tapping at the door, which was opened by Edwards,
asked--
“Is all safe, lad?”
“Every thing,” returned
the youth. “Some one attempted the lock, but it was too strong for him.”
“I know the creater,”
said Natty, but he’ll not trust himself within reach of my rifle ag’in very
soon, for I’ll--What more was uttered by the Leather-stocking, in his vexation,
was rendered inaudible by the closing of the door of the cabin.
“It is noised he bath a
mass of treasure.”
Timon of Athens
When Marmaduke Temple
and his cousin rode through the gate of the former, the heart of the father had
been too recently touched with the best feeling of our nature, to leave
inclination for immediate discourse. There was an importance in the air of
Richard, which would not have admitted of the ordinary informal conversation of
the Sheriff, without violating all the rules of consistency; and the
equestrians pursued their way with great diligence, for more than a mile, in
profound silence. At length the soft expression of parental care, blended with
affection, was slowly chased from the handsome features of the Judge, and was
gradually supplanted by the cast of humour and benevolence that was usually
seated on his brow.
“Well, Dickon,” he
said, “since I have yielded myself, so far, implicitly to your guidance, I
think the moment has arrived, when I am entitled to further confidence. Why and
wherefore are we journeying together in this solemn gait?”
The Sheriff gave a loud
hem, that rung far inthe forest, which they had now entered, and keeping his
eyes fixed on objects before, him, like a man who is looking deep into
futurity, he replied as follows:--
“There has always been
one point of difference between us, Judge Temple, I may say, since our nativity;
not that I would insinuate that you are at all answerable for the acts of
nature; for a man is no more to be condemned for the misfortunes of his birth,
than he is to be commended for the natural advantages he may possess; but on
one point we may be said to have differed from our births, and they, you know,
occurred within two days of each other.”
“I really marvel,
Richard, what this one point can be; for, to my eyes, we seem to differ so
materially, and so often”--
“Mere consequences,
sir,” interrupted the Sheriff, “all our minor differences proceed from one
cause, and that is, our opinions of the universal attainments of genius.”
“In what, Dickon!”
exclaimed the Judge.
“I speak plain English,
I believe, Judge Temple; at least I ought; for my father, who taught me, could
speak”--
“Greek and Latin,”
interrupted Marmaduke-- “I well know the qualifications of your family in
tongues, Dickon. But proceed to the point; why are we travelling over this
mountain to-day?”
“To do justice to any
subject, sir, the narrator must be suffered to proceed in his own way,”
continued the Sheriff. “You are of opinion, Judge Temple, that a man is to be
qualified by nature and education to do only one thing well, whereas I know
that genius will supply the place of learning, and that a certain sort of man
can do any thing and every thing.”
“Like yourself, I
suppose,” said Marmaduke, smiling.
“I scorn personalities,
sir,” returned the Sheriff; “I say nothing of myself; but there are three men
on your patent, of the kind that I should term talented by nature for her
general purposes, though acting under the influence of different situations.”
“We are better off,
then, than I had supposed,” said Marmaduke. “Who are they?”
“Why, sir, one is Hiram
Doolittle; he is a carpenter by trade, as you know, and I need only point to
the village to exhibit his merits. Then he is a magistrate, and might shame
many a man, in his distribution of justice, who has had better opportunities
than himself.”
“Well, he is one,” said
Marmaduke, with the air of a man that was determined not to dispute the point.
“Yes, sir, and Jotham
Riddel is another.”
“Who!” exclaimed the
Judge.
“Jotham Riddel.”
“What, that
dissatisfied, shiftless, lazy, speculating fellow! he who changes his county
every three years, his farm every six months, and his occupation every season!
an agriculturist yesterday, a shoemaker to-day, and a schoolmaster tomorrow!
that epitome of all the unsteady and profitless propensities of the settlers,
without one of their good qualities to counterbalance the evil! Nay, Richard,
this is too bad for even--but who is the third?”
“As the third is not
used to hearing such comments on his character, Judge Temple, I shall not name
him,” said the indignant Sheriff.
“The amount of all this,
then, Dickon, is, that the trio, of which you are one, and the principal, have
made some important discovery.”
“I have not said that I
am one, Judge Temple. As I told you before, I say nothing of myself. But a
discovery has been made, and you are deeply interested in it.”
“Proceed--I am all
ears.”
“No, no, ’duke, you are
bad enough, I own, but not so bad as that either; your ears are not quite full
grown.”
The Sheriff laughed
heartily at his own wit, and put himself in good humour thereby, when he
gratified his patient cousin with the following explanation:--
“You know, ’duke, that
there is a man living on your estate that goes by the name of Natty Bumppo.
Here has this man lived, by what I can learn, for more than forty years--by
himself, until lately; and now with strange companions.”
“Part very true, and
all very probable,” said the Judge.
“All true, sir; all
true. Well, within these last few months have appeared as his companions, an
old Indian chief, the last, or one of the last of his tribe that is to be found
in this part of the country, and a young man, who is said to be the son of some
Indian agent, by a squaw.”
“Who says that!” cried
Marmaduke, with an interest that he had not manifested before.
“Who! why common
sense--common report. But listen till you know all. This youth has very pretty
talents--yes, what I call very pretty talents--and has been well educated, has
seen very tolerable company, and knows how to behave himself, when he has a
mind to. Now, Judge Temple, can you tell me what has brought three such men as
Indian John, Natty Bumppo, and Oliver Edwards, together?”
Marmaduke turned his
countenance, in evident surprise, to his cousin, and replied quickly--
“Thou hast unexpectedly
hit on a subject, Richard, that has often occupied my mind. But knowest thou
any thing of this mystery, or are they only the crude conjectures of”--
“Crude nothing, ’duke,
crude nothing; but facts, stubborn facts. You know there are mines in these
mountains; I have often heard you say that you believed in their existence”--
“Reasoning from
analogy, Richard, but not with any certainty of the fact”
“You have heard them
mentioned, and have seen specimens of the ore, sir; you will not deny that!
and, reasoning from analogy, as you say, if there be mines in South America,
ought there not to be mines in North America too?”
“Nay, nay, I deny
nothing, my cousin. I certainly have heard many rumours of the existence of
mines, in these hills; and I do believe that I have seen specimens of the
precious metals that have been found here. It would occasion me no surprise to
learn that tin and silver, or, what I consider of more consequence, good coal,”--
“Damn your coal, sir,”
cried the Sheriff; “who wants to find coal, in these forests? No, no, silver, ’duke;
silver is the one thing needful, and silver is to be found. But listen: you are
not to be told that the natives have long known the use of gold and silver; now
who so likely to be acquainted where they are to be found, as the ancient
inhabitants of a country? I have the best reasons for believing that both
Mohegan and the Leather-stocking have been privy to the existence of a mine, in
this very mountain, for many years”
The Sheriff had now
touched his cousin in a sensitive spot, and Marmaduke lent a more attentive ear
to the speaker, who, after waiting a moment, to see the effect of this
extraordinary developement, proceeded--
“Yes, sir, I have my
reasons, and at a proper time you shall know them.”
“No time is so good as
the present,” exclaimed Marmaduke.
“Well, well, be
attentive,” continued Richard, looking cautiously about him, to make certain
that no eavesdropper was hid in the forest, though they were in constant
motion. “I have seen Mohegan and the Leather-Stocking, with my own eyes--and my
eyes are as good as any body’s eyes--I have seen them, I say, both going up the
mountain and coming down it, with spades and picks; and others have seen them
carrying things into their hut, in a secret and mysterious manner, after dark.
Do you know what they could be?”
The Judge did not
reply, but his brow had contracted, with a thoughtfulness that he always wore
when much interested, and his eyes rested on his cousin in expectation of
hearing more. Richard continued--
“It was ore. Now, sir,
I ask if you can tell me who this Mr. Oliver Edwards is, that has made a part
of your household since last Christmas?”
Marmaduke again raised
his eyes, but continued silent, shaking his head in the negative.
“That he is a
half-breed we know, for Mohegan does not scruple to call him, openly, his
kinsman; that he is well educated we know. But as to his business here--do you
remember that about a month before this young man made his appearance among us,
Natty was absent from home several days? You do; for you inquired for him, as
you wanted some venison to take to your friends, when you went for Bess. Well,
he was not to be found. Old John was left in the hut alone; and when Natty did
appear, althoughhe came on in the night, he was seen drawing one of those
jumpers that they carry their grain to mill in, and to take out something, with
great care, that he had covered up under his bear-skins. Now let me ask you,
Judge Temple, what motive could induce a man like the Leather-stocking to make
a sled, and toil with a load over these mountains, if he had nothing but his
rifle or his ammunition to carry?”
“They frequently make
these jumpers to convey their game home, and you say he had been absent many
days.”
“How did he kill it?
His rifle was in the village to be mended. No, no--that he was gone to some
unusual place is certain; that he brought back some secret utensils is also
certain; and since then he has not allowed a soul to approach his hut.”
“He was never fond of
intruders”--
“I know it,”
interrupted Richard; “but did he drive them from his cabin morosely? Within a
fortnight of his return, this Mr. Edwards appears. They spent whole days in the
mountains, pretending to be shooting, but in reality exploring; the frosts
prevented their digging at that time, and he availed himself of a lucky
accident to get into good quarters. But even now, he is quite half of his time
in that hut--many hours in each night. They are smelting, ’duke, they are
smelting, and as they grow rich you grow poor.”
“How much of this is
thine own, Richard, and how much comes from others? I would sift the wheat from
the chaff.”
“Part is my own, for I
saw the jumper, though it was broken up and burnt in a day or two. I have told
you that I saw the old man with his spades and picks. Hiram met Natty, as he
was crossing the mountain, the night of his arrivalwith the sled, and very
good-naturedly offered-- Hiram is good-natured--to carry up part of his load,
for the old man had a heavy pull up the back of the mountain, but he wouldn’t
listen to the thing, and repulsed the offer in such a manner that the Squire
said he had half a mind to swear the peace against him. Since the snow has been
off, more especially after the frosts got out of the ground, we have kept a
watchful eye on the gentlemen, in which we have found Jotham very useful.”
Marmaduke did not much
like the associates of Richard in this business; still he knew them to be
cunning and ready in expedients; and as there was certainly something
mysterious, not only in the connexion between the old hunters and Edwards, but
in what his cousin had just related, he began to revolve the subject in his own
mind with more care. On reflection, he remembered various circumstances that
tended to corroborate these suspicions, and, as the whole business favoured one
of his infirmities, he yielded the more readily to their impression. The mind
of Judge Temple, at all times comprehensive, had received from his peculiar
occupations, a bias to look far into futurity, in speculations on the
improvements that posterity were to make in his lands. To his eye, where others
saw nothing but a wilderness, towns, manufactories, bridges, canals, mines, and
all the other resources of an old country, were constantly presenting
themselves, though his good sense suppressed, in some degree, the exhibition of
these expectations.
As the Sheriff allowed
his cousin full time to reflect on what he had heard, the probability of some
pecuniary adventure being the connecting link in the chain that brought Oliver
Edwards into the cabin of Leather-stocking, appeared to himeach moment to be
stronger. But Marmaduke was too much in the habit of examining both sides of a
subject, not to perceive the objections, and reasoned with himself aloud:--
“It cannot be so, or
the youth would not be driven so near the verge of poverty.”
“What so likely to make
a man dig for money, as being poor?” cried the sheriff.
“Besides, there is an
elevation of character about Oliver, that proceeds from education, which would
forbid so clandestine a proceeding.”
“Could an ignorant
fellow smelt?” continued Richard.
“Then Bess hints that
he was reduced to his last shilling, when we took him into our dwelling.”
“He had been buying
tools. And would he spend his last sixpence for a shot at a turkey, had he not
known where to get more.”
“Can I have possibly
been so long a dupe! His manner has been rude to me, at times; but I attributed
it to his conceiving himself injured, and to his mistaking the forms of the
world.”
“Haven’t you been a
dupe all your life, ’duke? and an’t what you call ignorance of forms deep
cunning, to conceal his real character?”
“If he were bent on
deception, he would have concealed his knowledge, and passed with us for an
inferior man.”
“He cannot. I could no
more pass for a fool, myself, than I could fly. Knowledge is not to be
concealed, like a candle under a bushel.”
“Richard,” said the
Judge, turning to his cousin, “there are many reasons against the truth of thy
conjectures; but thou hast awakened suspicions which must be satisfied. But why
are we traveling here?”
“Jotham, who has been
much in the mountainlatterly, being kept there by me and Hiram, has made a
discovery, which he will not explain, he says, for he is bound by an oath; but
the amount is, that he knows where the ore lies, and he has this day begun to
dig. I would not consent to the thing, ’duke, without your knowledge, for the
land is yours;--and now you know the reason of our ride. Don’t you call this a
countermine for their mine, ha!”
“And where is the
desirable spot?” asked the Judge, with an air half comical, half serious.
“Close by; and when we
have visited that, I will show you one of the places that we have found within
a week, where our gentlemen hunters have been amusing themselves for six months
past.”
The gentlemen continued
to discuss the matter, while their horses picked their way under the branches
of trees, and over the uneven ground of the mountain. They soon arrived at the
end of their journey, where, in truth, they found Jotham already buried to his
neck in a hole that he had been digging.
Marmaduke questioned
the miner very closely, as to his reasons for believing in the existence of the
precious metals near that particular spot; but the fellow maintained an
obstinate mystery in his answers. He asserted that he had the best of reasons
for what he did, and inquired of the Judge what portion of the profits would
fall to his own share, in the event of success, with an earnestness that proved
his faith. After spending an hour near the place, examining the stones, and
searching for the usual indications of the proximity of ore, the Judge
remounted, and suffered his cousin to lead the way to the place where the
mysterious trio had been making their excavation.
The spot chosen by
Jotham was on the backof the mountain that overhung the hut of
Leather-stocking, and the place selected by Natty and his companions was on the
other side of the same hill, but above the road, and, of course, in an opposite
direction to the route taken by the ladies in their walk.
“We shall be safe in
approaching the place now,” said Richard, while they dismounted and fastened
their horses; “for I took a look with the glass, and saw John and
Leather-stocking in their canoe fishing, before we left home, and Oliver is in
the same pursuit, but these may be nothing but shams, to blind our eyes, so we
will be expeditious, for it would not be pleasant to be caught here by them.”
“Not on my own land!”
said Marmaduke, sternly. “If it be as you suspect, I will know their reasons
for making this excavation.”
“Mum,” said Richard,
laying his finger on his lip, and leading the way down a very difficult descent
to a sort of a natural cavern, which was formed in the face of the rock, and
not unlike a fire-place in shape. In front of this place lay a pile of earth,
which had evidently been taken from the recess, and part of which was yet
fresh. An examination of the exterior of the cavern, left the Judge in doubt
whether it was one of nature’s frolics that had thrown it into that shape, or
whether it had been wrought by the hands of man, at some earlier period. But
there could be no doubt that the whole of the interior was of recent formation,
and the marks of the pick were still visible, where the soft, lead-coloured
rock had opposed itself to the progress of the miners. The whole formed an
excavation of about twenty feet in width, and nearly twice that distance in
depth. The height was much greater than was required for the ordinary purposes
of experiment;but this was evidently the effect of chance, as the roof of the
cavern was a natural stratum of rock, that projected many feet beyond the base
of the pile. Immediately in front of the recess, or cave, was a little terrace,
partly formed by nature, and partly by the earth that had been carelessly
thrown aside by the labourers. The mountain fell off precipitately in front of
the terrace, and the approach by its sides, under the ridge of the rocks, was
difficult, and a little dangerous. The whole was wild, rude, and apparently
incomplete; for, while looking among the bushes, the Sheriff found the very
implements that had been used in the work.
When the Sheriff
thought that his cousin had examined the spot sufficiently, he cried--
“Well, Judge Temple,
are you satisfied?”
“Perfectly that there
is something mysterious, and to me perplexing in this business. It is a secret
spot, and cunningly devised, Richard; yet I see no symptoms of ore.”
“Do you expect, sir, to
find gold and silver lying like pebbles on the surface of the earth?-- dollars
and dimes ready coined to your hands! No, no--the treasure must be sought after
to be won. But let them mine; I shall countermine.”
The Judge took an
accurate survey of the place, and noted in his memorandum-book such marks as
were necessary to find it again, in the event of Richard’s absence; when the
cousins returned to their horses.
On reaching the highway
they separated, the Sheriff to summon twenty-four “good men and true,” to
attend as the inquest of the county, on the succeeding Monday, when Marmaduke
held his stated court of “common pleas and general sessions of the peace,” and
the Judge to return, musing deeply on what he had seen and heard in the course
of the morning.
When the horse of the
latter reached the spot where the highway fell towards the valley, the eye of
Marmaduke rested, it is true, on the same scene that had, ten minutes before,
been so soothing to the feelings of his daughter and her friend, as they
emerged from the forest; but it rested in vacancy. He threw the reins to his
sure-footed beast, and suffered the animal to travel at its own gait, while he
soliloquized as follows:--
“There may be more in
this than I at first supposed. I have suffered my feelings to blind my reason,
in admitting an unknown youth in this manner to my dwelling;--yet this is not
the land of suspicion. I will have the Leather-stocking before me, and, by a
few direct questions, extract the truth from the simple old man.”--
At that instant the
Judge caught a glimpse of the figures of Elizabeth and Louisa, who were slowly
descending the mountain, but a short distance before him. He put spurs to his
horse, and riding up to them, dismounted, and drove his steed along the narrow
path. While the agitated parent was listening to the vivid description that his
daughter gave of her recent danger, and her unexpected escape, all thoughts of
mines, vested rights, and examinations, were absorbed in his emotions; and when
the image of Natty again crossed his recollection, it was not as a lawless and
depredating squatter, but as the preserver of his child.
“The court awards it,
and the law doth give it.”
Merchant of Venice
Remarkable Pettibone,
who had forgotten the wound received by her pride, in the contemplation of the
ease and comforts of her situation, and who still retained her station in the
family of Judge Temple, was despatched to the humble dwelling which Richard
styled “the Rectory,” in attendance on Louisa, who was soon consigned to the
arms of her father.
In the mean time,
Marmaduke and his daughter were closeted for more than an hour, nor shall we
invade the sanctuary of parental love, by relating the conversation for that
period. At its expiration, when the curtain rises on the reader, the Judge is
seen walking up and down the apartment, with a tender melancholy in his air,
softening the manly expression of his features, and his child reclining on a
settee, with a flushed cheek, and her dark eyes seeming to float in crystals.
“It was a timely
rescue! it was, indeed, a timely rescue, my child!” cried the Judge. “Then thou
didst not desert thy friend, my noble Bess?”
“I believe I may as
well take the credit of fortitude,” said Elizabeth, “though I much doubt if
flight would have availed me any thing, had I even courage to execute such an
intention. But I thought not of the expedient.”
“Of what didst thou
think, love? where did thy thoughts dwell most, at that fearful moment?”
“The beast! the beast!”
cried Elizabeth, veiling her face with her fair hand; “Oh! I saw nothing, I
thought of nothing, but the beast. I tried to think of better things, but the
horror was too glaring, the danger too much before my eyes.”
“Well, well, thou art
safe, and we will converse no more on the unpleasant subject. I did not think
such an animal yet remained in our forests; but they will stray far from their
haunts when pressed by hunger, and”--
A loud knocking at the
door of the apartment interrupted what he was about to utter, and he bid the
applicant enter. The door was opened by Benjamin, who came in with a
discontented air, as if he felt that he had a communication to make that would
be out of season.
“Here is Squire
Doolittle below, sir,” commenced the Major-domo. “He has been standing off and
on in the door-yard, maybe for the matter of a glass; and he has sum’mat on his
mind that he wants to heave up, d’ye see; but I tells him, says I, man, would
you be coming aboard with your complaints, said I, when the Judge has gotten
his own child, as it were, out of the jaws of a lion? But damn the bit of
manners has the fellow any more than if he was one of them Guineas, down in the
kitchen there; and so as he was shearing alongside, every stretch he made
towards the house, I could do no better than to let your honour know that the
chap was in the offing.
“He must have business
of importance,” saidMarmaduke; “something in relation to his office, most
probably, as the court sits so shortly.”
“Ay, ay, you have it,
sir,” cried Benjamin, “it’s sum’mat about a complaint that he has to make of
the old Leather-stocking, who, to my judgment, is the better man of the two. It’s
a very good sort of a man is this Master Bumppo, and he has a way with a spear,
all the same as if he was brought up at the bow oar of the captain’s barge, or
was born with a boat-hook in his hand.”
“Against the
Leather-stocking!” cried Elizabeth, rising from her reclining posture.
“Rest easy, my child,”
said the Judge, smiling, “it is some trifle, I pledge you; I believe I am
already acquainted with its import. Trust me, Bess, your champion shall be safe
in my care.-- Show Mr. Doolittle in, Benjamin.”
Miss Temple appeared
satisfied with this assurance, but fastened her dark eyes on the person of the
architect, who profited by the permission, and instantly made his appearance.
All the impatience of
Hiram seemed to vanish the instant he entered the apartment. After saluting the
Judge and his daughter, he took the chair to which Marmaduke pointed, and sat
for a minute, composing his straight black hair, with a gravity in his
demeanour that was intended to do honour to his official station. At length he
said--
“It’s likely, from what
I hear, that Miss Temple had a pretty narrow chance with the painters, on the
mountain.”
Marmaduke made a gentle
inclination of his head, by way of assent, but continued silent.
“I s’pose the law gives
a bounty on the scalps,” continued Hiram, “in which case the Leather-stocking
will make a good job on’t.”
“It shall be my care,
sir, to see that he is rewarded,” returned the Judge.
“Yes, yes, I rather
guess that nobody hereabouts doubts the Judge’s generosity. Doos he know
whether the Sheriff has fairly made up his mind to have a reading-desk or a
deacon’s pew under the pulpit?”
“I have not heard my
cousin speak on that subject lately,” replied Marmaduke.
“I think it’s likely
that we will have a pretty dull court on’t, from what I can gather. I hear that
Jotham Riddel and the man who bought his betterments have agreen to leave their
difference to men, and I don’t think there’ll be more than two civil cases in
the calendar.”
“I am glad of it,” said
the Judge; “nothing gives me more pain, than to see my settlers wasting their
time and substance in the unprofitable struggles of the law, I hope it may
prove true, sir.”
“I rather guess ’twill
be left out to men,” added Hiram, with an air equally balanced between doubt
and assurance, but which Judge Temple understood to mean certainty; “I some
think that I am appointed a referee in the case myself; Jotham as much as told
me that he should take me. The defendant, I guess, means to take Captain
Hollister, and we two have partly agreen on Squire Jones for the third man.”
“Are there any
criminals to be tried?” asked Marmaduke.
“There’s the
counterfeiters,” returned the magistrate; “as they were caught in the fact, I
think it likely that they’ll be indicted, in which case, it’s probable they
will be tried.”
“Certainly, sir; I had
forgotten these men. There are no more I hope.”
“Why, there is a
threaten to come forrardwith an assault, that happened at the last independence
day; but I’m not sartain that the law’ll take hold on’t. There was plaguey hard
words passed, but whether they struck or not I haven’t heern. There’s some
folks talk of a deer or two being killed out of season, over on the west side
of the patent, by some of the squatters on the ‘Fractions.’ ”
“Let a complaint be
made, by all means,” cried the Judge; “I am determined to see the law executed,
to the letter, on all such depredators.”
“Why, yes, I thought
the Judge was of that mind; I come, partly, on such a business myself.”
“You!” exclaimed
Marmaduke, comprehending, in an instant, how completely he had been caught by
the other’s cunning; “and what have you to say, Sir?”
“I some think that
Natty Bumppo has the carcass of a deer in his hut at this moment, and a
considerable part of my business was to get a sarch warrant to examine.”
“You think, sir! do you
know that the law exacts an oath, before I can issue such a precept. The
habitation of a citizen is not to be idly invaded on light suspicion.”
“I rather think I can
swear to it myself,” returned the immoveable Hiram; “and Jotham is in the
street, and as good as ready to come in and make oath to the same thing.”
“Then issue the warrant
thyself; thou art a magistrate, Mr. Doolittle; why trouble me with the matter?”
“Why, seeing it’s the
first complaint under the law, and knowing the Judge set his heart on the
thing, I thought it best that the authority to sarch should come from himself.
Besides, as I’m much in the woods, among the timber, I don’t altogetherlike
making an enemy of the Leather-stocking. Now the Judge has a weight in the
county that puts him above all fear.”
Miss Temple turned her
beautiful face to the callous architect, with a scornful smile, as she said--
“And what has any
honest person to dread from so kind a man as poor Bumppo?”
“Why, it’s as easy,
Miss, to pull a rifle-trigger on a magistrate as on a painter. But if the Judge
don’t conclude to issoo the warrant, I must go home and make it out myself.”
“I have not refused
your application, Sir,” said Marmaduke, perceiving, at once, that his
reputation for impartiality was at stake; “go into my office, Mr. Doolittle,
where I will join you, and sign the warrant.”
Judge Temple stopped
the remonstrances which Elizabeth was about to utter, after Hiram had
withdrawn, by laying his hand playfully on her mouth, and saying--
“It is more terrific in
sound than frightful in reality, my child. I suppose that the Leather-stocking
has shot a deer, for the season is nearly over, and you say that he was hunting
with his dogs, when he came so timely to your assistance. But it will be only
to examine his cabin, and find the animal, when you can pay the penalty out of
your own pocket, Bess. Nothing short of the twelve dollars and a half will
satisfy this harpy, I perceive; and surely my reputation as a Judge is worth
that trifle.”
Elizabeth was a good
deal pacified with this assurance, and suffered her father to leave her, to
fulfil his promise to Hiram.
When Marmaduke left his
office, after executing his disagreeable duty, he met Oliver Edwards, walking
up the gravelled walk in front of the Mansion-house, with great strides, and
with a face agitated by some powerful passion. On seeing Judge Temple, the
youth turned aside, and with a warmth in his manner that was not often
exhibited to Marmaduke, he cried--
“I congratulate you,
sir; from the bottom of my soul I congratulate you, Judge Temple. Oh! it would
have been too horrid to have recollected for a moment! I have just left the
hut, where, after showing me his scalps, old Natty told me of the escape of the
ladies, as a thing to be mentioned last. Indeed, indeed, sir. no words of mine
can express half of what I have felt”--the youth paused a moment, as if
suddenly recollecting that he was overstepping prescribed limits, and concluded
with a good deal of embarrassment--“what I have felt, at this danger to
Miss--Grant, and--and your daughter, sir.”
But the heart of
Marmaduke was too much softened by his recent emotions, to admit of his
cavilling at trifles, and, without regarding the confusion of the other, he
replied--
“I thank thee, thank
thee, Oliver; as thou sayest, it is almost too horrid to be remembered. But
come, let us hasten to Bess, for Louisa has already gone to the Rectory.”
The young man sprung
forward, and, throwing open a door, barely permitted the Judge to precede him,
when he was in the presence of Elizabeth in a moment.
The cold distance that
often crossed the demeanour of the heiress, in her intercourse with Edwards,
was now entirely banished, and two hours were passed by the party, in the free,
unembarrassed, and confiding manner of old and esteemed friends. Judge Temple
had forgotten the suspicions engendered during his morning’s ride, and the
youth and maiden conversed, laughed, andwere sad by turns, as if directed by a
common impulse. At length Edwards, after repeating his intention to do so for
the third time, left the Mansion-house, to go to the Rectory on a similar
errand of friendship.
During this short
period, a scene was passing at the hut, that completely frustrated the benevolent
intentions of Judge Temple in favour of the Leather-stocking, and at once
destroyed the short-lived harmony between the youth and Marmaduke.
When Hiram Doolittle
had obtained his search-warrant, his first business was to procure a proper
officer to see it executed. The Sheriff was absent, summoning, in person, the
grand inquest for the county; the deputy, who resided in the village, was
riding on the same errand, in a different part of the settlement; and the
regular constable of the township had been selected for his station from
motives of charity, being lame of one leg, and an invalid. Hiram intended to
accompany the officer as a spectator, but felt no very strong desire to bear
the brunt of the battle. It was, however, Saturday, and the sun was already
turning the shadows of the pines towards the east; on the morrow the
conscientious magistrate could not engage in such an expedition at the peril of
his soul; and long before Monday, the venison, and all vestiges of the death of
the deer, might be secreted or destroyed. Happily, the lounging form of Billy
Kirby met his eye, and Hiram, at all times fruitful in similar expedients, saw
his way clear at once. Jotham, who was associated in the whole business, and
who had left the mountain in consequence of a summons from his coadjutor, but
who failed, equally with Hiram, in the unfortunate particular of nerve, was
directedto summon the wood-chopper to the dwelling of the magistrate.
When Billy appeared, he
was very kindly invited to take the chair in which he had already seated
himself, and was treated, in all respects, as if he were an equal.
“Judge Temple has set
his heart on putting the deer law in force,” said Hiram, after the preliminary
civilities were over, “and a complaint has been laid before him that a deer has
been killed. He has issooed a sarch-warrant, and sent for me to get somebody to
execute it.”
Kirby, who had no idea
of being excluded from the deliberative part of any affair in which he was
engaged, drew up his bushy head in a reflecting attitude, and, after musing a
moment, replied by asking a few questions.
“The Sheriff is gone
out of the way?”
“Not to be found.”
“And his deputy too?”
“Both gone on the
skirts of the patent.”
“But I seen the
constable hobbling about town an hour ago.”
“Yes, yes,” said Hiram,
with a coaxing smile and knowing nod, “but this business wants a man --not a
cripple.”
“Why,” said Billy,
laughing, “will the chap make fight?”
“He’s a little
quarrelsome at times, and thinks he’s the best man in the county at
rough-and-tumble.”
“I heerd him brag once,”
said Jotham, “that there wasn’t a man ’twixt the Mohawk Flats and the
Pennsylvany line, that was his match at a close hug.”
“Did you!” exclaimed
Kirby, raising his huge frame in his seat, like a lion stretching in his lair; “I
rather guess he never felt a Varmounter’sto knuckles on his back-bone. But who
is the chap?”
“Why,” said Jotham, “It’s”--
“It’s ag’in law to
tell,” interrupted Hiram, “unless you’ll qualify to sarve. You’d be the very
man to take him, Bill: and I’ll make out a spicial deputation in a minute, when
you will get the fees.”
“What’s the fees?” said
Kirby, laying his large hand on the leaves of a statute-book, that Hiram had
opened in order to give dignity to his office, which he turned over, in his
rough manner, as if he were reflecting on a subject, about which he had, in
truth, already decided; “will they pay a man for a broken head?”
“They’ll be something
handsome,” said Hiram.
“Damn the fees,” said
Billy, again laughing-- “doos the fellow think he’s the best wrestler in the
county, though? what’s his inches?”
“He’s taller than you
be,” said Jotham, “and one of the biggest”--
Talkers, he was about
to add, but the impatience of Kirby interrupted him. The wood-chopper had
nothing fierce, or even brutal in his appearance; the character of his
expression was that of good-natured vanity. It was evident he prided himself on
the powers of the physical man, like all who have nothing better to boast of;
and, stretching out his broad hand, with the palm downward, he said, keeping
his eyes fastened on his own bones and sinews--
“Come, give us a touch
of the book. I’ll swear, and you’ll see that I’m a man to keep my oath.”
Hiram did not give the
wood-chopper time to change his mind, but the oath was administered without any
unnecessary delay. So soonas this preliminary was completed, the three worthies
left the house, and proceeded by the nearest road towards the hut. They had
reached the bank of the lake, and were diverging from the route of the highway,
before Kirby recollected that he was now entitled to the privileges of the
initiated, and repeated his question, as to the name of the offender.
“Which way, which way,
Squire?” exclaimed the hardy wood-chopper; “I thought it was to sarch a house
that you wanted me, not the woods. There is nobody lives on this side of the
lake, for six miles, unless you count the Leather-stocking and old John for
settlers. Come, tell me the chap’s name, and I warrant me that I lead you to
his clearing by a straighter path than this, for I know every sapling that
grows within two miles of Templetown.”
“This is the way,” said
Hiram, pointing forward, and quickening his step, as if apprehensive that Kirby
would desert, “and Bumppo is the man.”
Kirby stopped short,
and looked from one of his companions to the other in astonishment. He then
burst into a loud laugh, and cried--
“Who! Leather-stocking!
he may brag of his aim and his rifle, for he has the best of both, as I will
own myself, for sin’ he shot the pigeon I knock under to him; but for a
wrestle! why, I would take the divil between my finger and thumb, and tie him
in a bow-knot around my neck for a Barcelony. Why, Jotham, you could take him
down yourself, as you’d take down a two-years’ pine with an axe. The man is
seventy, and was never any thing particular for strength.”
“He’s a deceiving man,”
said Hiram, “likeall the hunters; he is stronger than he seems;-- besides, he
has his rifle.”
“That for his rifle!”
cried Billy; “he’d no more hurt me with his rifle than he’d fly. He is a
harmless creater, and I must say that I think he has as good a right to kill
deer as any man on the patent. It’s his main support, and this is a free
country, where a man is privileged to follow any calling he likes.”
“According to that
doctrine,” said Jotham, “any body may shoot a deer.”
“This is the man’s
calling, I tell you,” returned Kirby, “and the law was never made for such as
him.”
“The law was made for
all,” observed Hiram, who began to think that the danger was likely to fall to
his own share, notwithstanding his management; “and the law is particular in
noticing parjury.”
“See here, Squire
Doolittle,” said the reckless wood-chopper, “I don’t kear the valie of a
beetlering for you and your parjury too. But as I have come so far, I’ll go
down and have a talk with the old man, and maybe we’ll fry a steak of the deer
together.”
“Well, if you can get
in peaceably, so much the better,” said the magistrate. “To my notion, strife
is very unpopular; I prefar, at all times, clever conduct to an ugly temper.”
As the whole party
moved at a great pace, they soon reached the hut, where Hiram thought it
prudent to halt on the outside of the top of the fallen pine, which formed a
chevaux-de-frize, to defend the approach to the fortress, on the side next to
the village. The delay was but little relished by Kirby, who clapped his hands
to his mouth, and gave a loud halloo, that brought the dogs out of their
kennel, and, almost at the sameinstant, the scantily-covered head of Natty also
from the door.
“Lie down, you old
fool,” cried the hunter; “do you think there’s more painters about you.”
“Ha! Leather-stocking,
I’ve an arrand with you,” cried Kirby; “here’s the good people of the state
have been writing you a small letter, and they’ve hired me to ride post.”
“What would you have
with me, Billy Kirby?” said Natty, stepping across his threshold, and raising
his hand over his eyes to screen them from the rays of the setting sun, while
he took a survey of his visiter. “I’ve no land to clear; and Heaven knows I
would set out six trees afore I would cut down one. Down, Hector, I say, into
your kennel with ye.”
“Would you, old boy!”
roared Billy; “then so much the better for me. But I must do my arrand. Here’s
a letter for you, Leather-stocking. If you can read it it’s all well, and if
you can’t, here’s Squire Doolittle at hand, to let you know what it means. It
seems you mistook the twentieth of July for the first of August, that’s all.”
By this time Natty had
discovered the lank person of Hiram, drawn up under the cover of a high stump;
and all that was complacent in his manner instantly gave way to marked distrust
and dissatisfaction. He placed his head within the door of his hut, and said a
few words in an under tone, when he again appeared, and continued--
“I’ve nothing for ye;
so away, afore the evil one tempts me to do you harm. I owe you no spite, Billy
Kirby, and what for should you trouble an old man, who has done you no harm?”
Kirby advanced through
the top of the pine, to within a few feet of the hunter, where he seatedhimself
on the end of a log with great composure, and began to examine the nose of
Hector, with whom he was familiar, from their frequently meeting in the woods,
where he sometimes fed the dog from his own basket of provisions.
“You’ve outshot me, and
I’m not ashamed to say it,” said the wood chopper, “but I don’t owe you a
grudge for that, Natty; though it seems, that you’ve shot once too often, for
the story goes that you’ve killed a buck.”
“I’ve fired but twice
to-day, and both times at the painters,” returned the Leather-stocking; “see!
here’s the scalps! I was just going in with them to the Judge’s to ask the
bounty.”
While Natty was
speaking, he tossed the ears to Kirby, who continued playing with them, with a
careless air, holding them to the dogs, and laughing at their movements when
they scented the unusual game.
But Hiram, emboldened
by the advance of the deputed constable, now ventured to approach also, and
took up the discourse with the air of authority that became his commission. His
first measure was to read the warrant aloud, taking care to give due emphasis
to the most material parts, and concluding with the name of the Judge in very
audible and distinct tones.
“Did Marmaduke Temple
put his name to that bit of paper!” said Natty, shaking his head;-- “well,
well, that man loves the new ways, and his betterments, and his lands, afore
his own flesh and blood. But I won’t mistrust the gal: she has an eye like a
full-grown buck! poor thing, she didn’t choose her father, and can’t help it. I
know but little of the law, Mr. Doolittle; what is to be done, now you’ve read
your commission?”
“Oh! it’s nothing but
form, Natty,” said Hiram, endeavouring to assume a friendly aspect. “Let’s go
in and talk the thing over in reason. I dare to say that the money can be
easily found, though I conclude, from what passed, that Judge Temple will pay
it himself.”
The old hunter had kept
a keen eye on the movements of his three visiters, from the beginning, and had
maintained his position, just without the threshold of his cabin, with a
determined manner, that showed he was not to be easily driven from his post.
When Hiram drew nigher, as if expecting that his proposition would be accepted,
Natty lifted his hand and motioned for him to retreat.
“Haven’t I told you,
more than once, not to tempt me,” he said. “I trouble no man; why can’t the law
leave me to myself? Go back--go back, and tell your Judge that he may keep his
bounty; but I won’t have his wasty ways brought into my hut.”
This offer, however,
instead of appeasing the curiosity of Hiram, seemed to inflame it the more;
while Kirby cried--
“Well, that’s fair,
Squire; he forgives the county his demand, and the county should forgive him
the fine; it’s what I call an even trade, and should be concluded on the spot.
I like quick dealings, and what’s fair ’twixt man and man.”
“I demand entrance into
this house,” said Hiram, summoning all the dignity he could muster to his
assistance, “in the name of the people, and by vartoo of this warrant, and of
my office, and with this peace-officer.”
“Stand back, stand
back, Squire, and dont tempt me,” said the Leather-stocking, motioning for him
to retire, with great earnestness.
“Stop us at your peril,”
continued Hiram--“Billy! Jotham! close up--I want your testimony.”
Hiram had mistaken the
mild but determined air of Natty for submission, and had already put his foot
on the threshold to enter, when he was seized unexpectedly by his shoulders,
and hurled over the little bank towards the lake, to the distance of twenty
feet. The suddenness of the movement, and the unexpected display of strength on
the part of Natty, created a momentary astonishment in his invaders, that
silenced all noises; but at the next instant Billy Kirby gave vent to his mirth
in loud peals of laughter that he seemed to heave up from his very soul.
“Well done, old stub!”
he shouted; “the Squire know’d you better than I did. Come, come, here’s a
green spot; take it out like men, while Jotham and I see fair play.”
“William Kirby, I order
you to do your duty,” cried Hiram, from under the bank; “seize that man; I
order you to seize him in the name of the people.”
But the
Leather-stocking now assumed a more threatening attitude; his rifle was in his
hand, and its muzzle was directed towards the wood-chopper.
“Stand off, I bid ye,”
said Natty; “you know my aim, Billy Kirby; I don’t crave your blood, but mine
and yourn both shall turn this green grass red, afore you put your foot into
the hut.”
While the affair
appeared trifling, the wood-chopper seemed disposed to take sides with the
weaker party; but when the fire arms were introduced, his manner very sensibly
changed. He raised his large frame from the log, and, facing the hunter with an
open front, he replied--
“I didn’t come here as
your enemy, Leather-stocking; but I don’t vallie the hollow piece of iron in
your hand so much as a broken axehelve;--so, Squire, say the word, and keep
within the law, and we’ll soon see who’s the best man of the two.”
But no magistrate was
to be seen! The instant the rifle was produced Hiram and Jotham vanished; and
when the wood-chopper bent his eyes about him in surprise at receiving no
answer, he discovered their retreating figures, moving towards the village, at
a rate that sufficiently indicated that they had not only calculated the
velocity of a rifle-bullet, but also its probable range.
“You’ve skeared the
creaters off,” said Kirby, with great contempt expressed on his broad features;
“but you are not a-going to skear me; so, Mr. Bumppo, down with your gun, or
there’ll soon be trouble ’twixt us.”
Natty dropped his
rifle, and replied--
“I wish you no harm,
Billy Kirby; but I leave it to yourself, whether an old man’s hut is to be run
down by such varmint as them. I won’t deny the buck to you, Billy, and you may
take the skin in, if you please, and show it as a tistimony. The bounty will
pay the fine, and that ought to satisfy any man.”
“’Twill, old boy, ’twill,”
cried Kirby, every shade of displeasure vanishing from his open brow at the
peace-offering; “throw out the hide, and that shall satisfy the law.”
Natty entered his hut,
and soon re-appeared, bringing with him the desired testimonial, and the
wood-chopper departed, as thoroughly reconciled to the hunter as if nothing had
happened. As he paced along the margin of the lake, he would burst into
frequent fits of laughter, while he recollected the summerset of Hiram;and, on
the whole, he thought the affair a very capital Joke.
Long before Billy
reached the village, however, the news of his danger, of Natty’s disrespect to
the law, and of Hiram’s discomfiture, were in circulation. A good deal was said
about sending for the Sheriff; some hints were given about calling out the
posse comitatus to avenge the insulted laws; and many of the citizens were
collected, deliberating how to proceed. The arrival of Billy with the skin, by
removing all grounds for a search, changed the complexion of things materially.
Nothing now remained but to collect the fine, and assert the dignity of the people;
all of which, it was unanimously agreed, could be done as well on the
succeeding Monday as on a Saturday night, a time kept sacred by a large portion
of the settlers. Accordingly, all further proceedings were suspended for
six-and-thirty hours.
“And dar’st thou, then, To
beard the Hon in his den,
The Douglass in his
hall?”
Marmion
The commotion was just
subsiding, and the inhabitants of the village had begun to disperse from the
little groups they had formed, each retiring to his own home, and closing his
door after him, with the grave air of a man who consulted public feeling in his
exterior deportment, when Oliver Edwards, on his return from the dwelling of
Mr. Grant, encountered the young lawyer, who is known to the reader as Mr.
Lippet. There was very little similarity in the manners or opinions of the two;
but as they both belonged to the more intelligent class of a very small
community, they were, of course, known to each other; and, as their meeting was
at a point where silence would have been rudeness, the following conversation
was the result of their interview:
“A fine evening, Mr.
Edwards,” commenced the lawyer, whose disinclination to the dialogue was, to
say the least, very doubtful; “we want rain sadly;--that’s the worst of this
climate of ours, it’s either a drought or a deluge. It’s likely you’ve been
used to a more equal temperatoore?”
“I am a native of this
state,” returned Edwards, coldly.
“Well, I’ve often heerd
that point disputed; but it’s so easy to get a man naturalized, that it’s of
little consequence where he was born. I wonder what course the Judge means to
take in this business of Natty Bumppo?”
“Of Natty Bumppo!”
echoed Edwards; “to what do you allude, sir?”
“Haven’t you heerd!”
exclaimed the other, with a look of surprise, so naturally assumed as
completely to deceive the other; “why, it may turn out an ugly business. It
seems that the old man has been out in the hills, and has shot a buck, this
morning, and that, you know, is a criminal matter in the eyes of Judge Temple.”
“Oh! he has, has he!”
said Edwards, averting his face to conceal the colour that collected in his
sun-burnt cheek. “Well, if that be all, he must even pay the fine.”
“It’s five pounds,
currency,” said the lawyer; “could Natty muster so much money at once?”
“Could he!” cried the
youth. “I am not rich, Mr. Lippet; far from it--I am poor; and I have been
hoarding my salary for a purpose that lies near my heart; but before that old
man should lie one hour in a gaol, I would spend the last cent to prevent it.
Besides he has killed two panthers, and the bounty will discharge the fine many
times over.”
“Yes, yes,” said the
lawyer, rubbing his hands together with an expression of pleasure that had no
artifice about it; “we shall make it out; I see plainly, we shall make it out.”
“Make what out, sir? I
must beg an explanation.”
“Why, killing the buck
is but a small matter, compared to what took place this afternoon,” continued
Mr. Lippet, with a confidential and friendly air, that insensibly won upon the
youth, as little as he liked the man. “It seems, that a complaint was made of
the fact, and the suspicion that there was venison in the hut was sworn to, all
which is provided for in the statoote, when Judge Temple granted a search-warrant”--
“A search-warrant!”
echoed Edwards, in a voice of horror, and with a face that should have been
again averted, to conceal its paleness; “and how much did they discover? What
did they see?”
“They saw old Bumppo’s
rifle; and that is a sight which will quiet most men’s curiosity in the woods.”
“Did they! did they!”
shouted Edwards, bursting into a convulsive laugh; “so the old hero beat them
back--he beat them back! did he?”
The lawyer fastened his
eyes in astonishment on the youth; but, as his wonder gave way to the thoughts
that were commonly uppermost in his mind, he replied--
“It’s no laughing
matter, let me tell you, sir; the forty dollars of bounty, and your six months
of salary, will be much reduced before you get the matter fairly settled. Assaulting
a magistrate in the execootion of his duty, and menacing a constable with
fire-arms, at the same time, is a pretty serious affair, and is punishable with
both fine and imprisonment.”
“Imprisonment!”
repeated Oliver; “imprison the Leather-stocking! no, no, sir; it would bring
the old man to his grave. They shall never imprison the Leather-stocking.”
“Well, Mr. Edwards,”
said Lippet, dropping all reserve from his manner, “you are called a curious
man; but if you can tell me how a juryis to be prevented from finding a verdict
of guilty, if this case comes fairly before them, and the proof is clear, I
shall acknowledge that you know more law than I do, who have had a license in
my pocket for three years.”
By this time the reason
of Edwards was getting the ascendency of his feelings; and, as he begun to see
the real difficulties in the case, he listened more readily to the conversation
of the lawyer. The ungovernable emotion that escaped the youth, in the first
moment of his surprise, entirely passed away, and, although it was still
evident that he continued to be much agitated by what he had heard, he
succeeded in yielding a forced attention to the advice which the other uttered.
Notwithstanding the
confused state of his mind, Oliver soon discovered that most of the expedients
of the lawyer were grounded in cunning, and plans that required a time to
execute them in, that neither suited his disposition nor his emergencies.
After, however, giving Mr. Lippet to understand that he retained him, in the event
of a trial, an assurance that at once satisfied the lawyer, they parted, one
taking his course, with a deliberate tread, in the direction of the little
building that had a wooden sign over its door, with “Chester Lippet, Attorney
at Law,” painted on it; and the other, pacing over the ground, with enormous
strides, towards the Mansion-house. We shall take leave of the attorney for the
present, and direct the attention of the reader to his client.
When Edwards entered
the hall, whose enormous doors were opened to the passage of the air of a mild
evening, he found Benjamin engaged in some of his domestic avocations, and, in
a hurried voice, inquired where Judge Temple was to be found.
“Why, the Judge has
just stept into his office, with that master-carpenter, Mister Doolittle; but
Miss Lizzy is in that there parlour. I say, Master Oliver, we’d like to have
had a bad job of that panther, or painter’s work--some calls it one, and some
calls it t’other--but I know little of the beast, seeing that it’s not of British
growth. I said as much as that it was in the hills, the last winter; for I
heard it moaning on the lake-shore, one evening in the fall, when I was pulling
down from the fishing point in the skiff. Had the animal come into the open
water, where a man could see where and how to work his vessel, I would have
engaged the thing myself; but looking aloft among the trees, is all the same to
me as standing on the deck of one ship and looking at another vessel’s tops. I
never can tell one rope from another”--
“Well, well,”
interrupted Edwards; “I must see Miss Temple.”
“And you shall see her,
sir,” said the steward; “she’s in this here room. Oh! Lord, Master Edwards,
what a loss she’d have been to the Judge! Dam’me if I know where he would have
gotten such another daughter; that is, full-grown, d’ye see. I say, sir, this
Master Bumppo is a worthy man, and seems to have a handy way with him, with
fire arms and boat-hooks. I’m his friend, Master Oliver, and he and you may
both set me down as the same.”
“We may want your
friendship, my worthy fellow,” cried Edwards, squeezing his hand convulsively--“we
may want your friendship, in which case, you shall know it.”
Without waiting to hear
the earnest reply that Benjamin meditated, the youth extricated himself from
the vigorous grasp of the steward, and entered the parlour.
Elizabeth was alone,
and still reclining on the sofa, where we last left her. A hand, which exceeded
all that the ingenuity of art could model, in shape and colour, veiled her
eyes; and the maiden was sitting in an abstracted posture, as if communing
deeply with herself. Struck by the attitude and loveliness of the form that met
his eye, the young man checked his impatience, and approached her with respect
and caution.
“Miss Temple--Miss Temple,”
he said, “I hope I do not intrude; but I am anxious to see you, if it be only
for a moment.”
Elizabeth raised her
face, and exhibited her dark eyes swimming in moisture; but a flush crossed her
cheeks, that resembled the tints which the setting sun throws over the
neighbouring clouds.
“Is it you, Edwards?”
she said, with a sweetness in her voice, and a softness in her air, that she
often used to her father, but which, from its novelty to himself, thrilled on
every nerve of the youth; “how left you our poor Louise?”
“She is with her
father, happy and grateful,” said Oliver. “I never witnessed more feeling than
she manifested, when I ventured to express my pleasure at her escape. I know
not how it was, Miss Temple, but when I first heard of your horrid situation,
my feelings were too powerful for utterance; and I did not properly find my
tongue, until the walk to Mr. Grant’s had given me time to collect myself. I
believe--I do believe, I acquitted myself better there, for Miss Grant even
wept at my silly speeches.”
For a moment Elizabeth
did not reply, but again veiled her eyes with her hand. The feeling that caused
the action, however, soon passed away, and, raising her face again to his gaze,
she continued, with a smile--
“Your friend, the
Leather-stocking, has nowbecome my friend, Edwards; I have been thinking how I
can best serve him; perhaps you, who know his habits and his wants so well, can
tell me”--
“I can,” cried the
youth, with an impetuosity that startled the maiden--“I can, and may Heaven reward
you for the wish. Natty has been so imprudent as to forget the law, and has
this day killed a deer. Nay, I believe I must share in the crime and the
penalty, for I was an accomplice throughout. A complaint has been made to your
father, and he has granted a search”--
“I know it all,”
interrupted Elizabeth, beckoning with her hand for silence; “I know it--I know
it all. The forms of the law must be complied with, however; the search must be
made, the deer found, and the penalty paid. But I must retort your own
question. Have you lived so long in our family, not to know us? Look at me,
Oliver Edwards. Do I appear like the girl who would permit the man that has
just saved her life to linger in a gaol, for so small a sum as this fine? No,
no, sir; my father is a Judge, but he is a man and a Christian. It is all
understood, and no harm shall follow.”
“What a load of
apprehension do your declaratians remove!” exclaimed Edwards. “He shall not be
disturbed again! your father will protect him! I have your assurance, Miss
Temple, that he will, and I must believe it.”
“You may have his own,
Mr. Edwards,” returned Elizabeth, “for here he comes to make it.”
But the appearance of
Marmaduke, who entered the apartment, contradicted the flattering anticipations
of his daughter. His brow was contracted with a look of care, and his manner
was disturbed. Neither Elizabeth nor the youthspoke; but the Judge was allowed
to pace once or twice across the room without interruption, when he cried--
“Our plans are
defeated, girl; the obstinacy of the Leather-stocking has brought down the
indignation of the law on his devoted head, and it is out of my power to avert
it.”
“How? in what manner?”
cried Elizabeth; “the fine is nothing; surely”--
“I did not--I could not
anticipate that an old, a friendless man, like him, would dare to oppose the
officers of justice,” interrupted the Judge; “I supposed that he would submit
to the search, when the fine could have been paid, and the law would have been
appeased; but now he will have to meet its rigour.”
“And what must the
punishment be, sir?” asked Edwards, in an agitated voice.
Marmaduke turned
quickly to the spot where the youth had withdrawn, and exclaimed--
“You here! I did not
observe you. I know not what it will be, sir; it is not usual for a Judge to
decide, until he has heard the testimony, and the jury have convicted. Of one
thing, however, you may be assured, Mr. Edwards; it shall be whatever the law
demands, notwithstanding any momentary weakness I may have exhibited, because
the luckless man has been of such eminent service to my daughter.”
“No one, I believe,
doubts the sense of justice which Judge Temple entertains!” returned Edwards,
bitterly. “But let us converse calmly, sir. Will not the years, the habits, nay
the ignorance of my old friend, avail him any thing against such a charge?”
“Ought they? I may ask,”
returned Marmaduke. “They may extenuate, but can they acquit? Would any society
be tolerable, youngman, where the ministers of justice are to be opposed by men
armed with rifles? Is it for this that I have tamed the wilderness?”
“Had you tamed the
beasts that so lately threatened the life of Miss Temple, sir, your arguments
would apply better.”
“Edwards!” exclaimed
Elizabeth--
“Peace, my child,”
interrupted her father;-- “the youth is unjust; but I have not given him cause.
I overlook thy remark, Oliver, for I know thee to be the friend of Natty, and
thy zeal in his behalf has overcome thy discretion.”
“Yes, he is my friend,”
cried Edwards, “and I glory in the title. He is simple, unlettered, even
ignorant; prejudiced, perhaps, though I feel that his opinion of the world is
too true: but he has a heart, Judge Temple, that would atone for a thousand
faults; he knows his friends, and never deserts them, even if it be his dog.”
“This is a good
character, Mr. Edwards,” returned Marmaduke, mildly; “but I have never been so
fortunate as to secure his esteem, for to me he has been uniformly repulsive;
yet I have endured it, as an old man’s whim. However, when he appears before
me, as his judge, he shall find that his former conduct shall not aggravate,
any more than his recent services shall extenuate his crime.”
“Crime!” echoed
Edwards; “is it a crime to drive a prying miscreant from his door? Crime! Oh!
no, sir; if there be a criminal involved in this affair, it is not he.”
“And who may it be,
sir?” asked Judge Temple, facing the agitated youth, with his fine, manly
features settled to their usual composure.
This appeal was more
than the young man could bear. Hitherto he had been deeply agitated by his
emotions; but now the volcano burst its boundaries.
“Who! and this to me!”
he cried; “ask your own conscience, Judge Temple. Walk to that door, sir, and
look out upon the valley, that placid lake, and those dusky mountains, and say
to your own heart, if heart you have, whence came these riches, this vale,
those hills, and why am I their owner? I should think, sir, that the appearance
of Mohegan and the Leather-stocking, stalking through the country, impoverished
and forlorn, would wither your sight.”
Marmaduke heard this
burst of passion, at first, with deep amazement; but when the youth had ended,
he beckoned to his impatient daughter for silence, and replied--
“Oliver Edwards, thou
forgettest in whose presence thou standest. I have heard, young man, that thou
claimest descent from the native owners of the soil; but surely thy education
has been given thee to no effect, if it has not taught thee the validity of the
claims that have transferred the title to the whites. These lands are mine by
the very grants of thy ancestry, if thou art so descended; and I appeal to
Heaven, for a testimony of the uses I have put them to. After this language, we
must separate. I have too long sheltered thee in my dwelling; but the time has
arrived when thou must quit it. Come to my office, and I will discharge the
debt I owe thee. Neither shall thy present intemperate language mar thy future
fortunes, if thou wilt hearken to the advice of one who is by many years thy
senior.”
The ungovernable
feeling that caused the violence of the youth had passed away, and he stood
gazing after the retiring figure of Marmaduke, with a vacancy in his eye, that
denoted the absence of his mind. At length he recollected himself, and, turning
his head slowly around the apartment, he beheld Elizabeth, still seated on the
sofa, but with her head dropped on her bosom, and her face again concealed by
her hands.
“Miss Temple,” he
said--all violence had left his manner--“Miss Temple--I have forgotten
myself--forgotten you. You have heard what your father has decreed, and this
night I leave here. With you I would part in amity.”
Elizabeth slowly raised
her face, across which a momentary expression of sadness stole; but as she left
her seat, her dark eyes lighted with their usual fire, her cheek flushed to
burning, and her whole air seemed to belong to another nature.
“I forgive you,
Edwards, and my father will forgive you,” she said, when she reached the door. “You
do not know us, but the time may come, when your opinions shall change”--
“Of you! never!”
interrupted the youth; “I”--
“I would speak, sir,
and not listen. There is something in this affair that I do not yet comprehend;
but tell the Leather-stocking he has friends as well as judges in us. Do not
let the old man experience unnecessary uneasiness, at this rupture. It is
impossible that you could increase his claims here; neither shall they be
diminished by any thing you have said. Mr. Edwards, I wish you happiness, and
warmer friends.”
The youth would have
spoken, but she vanished from the door so rapidly, that when he reached the
hall her light form was nowhere to be seen. He paused a moment, in a stupor,
and then, rushing from the house, instead of following Marmaduke to his “office,”
he took his way directly for the cabin of the hunters.
“Who measured earth,
described the starry spheres,
And traced the long
records of lunar years.”
Pope
Richard did not return
from the exercise of his official duties, until late in the evening of the following
day. It had been one portion of his business to superintend the arrest of part
of a gang of counterfeiters, that had, even at that early period, buried
themselves in the woods, to manufacture their base coin, which they afterwards
circulated from one end of the Union to the other. The expedition had been
completely successful, and about midnight the Sheriff entered the village, at
the head of a posse of deputies and constables, in the centre of whom rode,
pinioned, four of the malefactors. At the gate of the Mansionhouse they
separated, Mr. Jones directing his assistants to proceed with their charge to
the county gaol, while he pursued his own way up the gravelled walk, with that
kind of self-satisfaction that a man of his organization would feel, who had,
really, for once, done a very clever thing.
“Holla! Aggy!” shouted
the Sheriff, when he reached the door; “where are you, you black dog? will you
keep me here in the dark all night?--Holla! Aggy! Brave! Brave! hoy, hoy--where
have you got to, Brave? Off his watch! Every body is asleep but myself! poor I
must keep my eyes open, that others may sleep in safety. Brave! Brave! Well, I
will say this for the dog, lazy as he’s grown, that it is the first time I ever
knew him let any one come to the door after dark, without having a smell to
know whether it was an honest man or not. He could tell by his nose, almost as
well as I could myself by looking at them. Holla! you Agamemnon! where are you?
Oh! here comes the dog at last.”
By this time the
Sheriff had dismounted, and observed a form, which he supposed to be that of
Brave, slowly creeping out of the kennel; when, to his astonishment, it reared
itself on two legs instead of four, and he was able to distinguish, by the
star-light, the curly head and dark visage of the negro.
“Ha! what the devil are
you doing there, you black rascal?” he cried; “is it not hot enough for your
Guinea blood in the house, this warm night, but you must drive out the poor dog
and sleep in his straw!”
By this time the boy
was quite awake, and, with a blubbering whine, he attempted to reply to his
master.
“Oh! masser Richard!
masser Richard! such a ting! such a ting! I nebber tink a could ’appen! nebber
tink he die! Oh, Lor-a-gor! a’nt bury--keep ’em till masser Richard get back--
got a grabe dug”--
Here the feelings of
the negro completely got the mastery, and instead of making any intelligible
explanation of the causes of his grief, he blubbered aloud.
“Eh! what! buried!
grave! dead!” exclaimed Richard, with a tremour in his voice; “nothingserious?
Nothing has happened to Benjamin, I hope? I know he has been bilious; but I
gave him”--
“Oh! worser ’an a dat!
worser ’an a dat!” sobbed the negro. “Oh! de Lor! Miss ’Lizzy an a Miss
Grant--walk--mountain--poor Bravy! --kill a lady--painter--Oh! Lor, Lor!--Natty
Bumppo--tear he troat all open--come a see, masser Richard--such a booful
copse--here he be--here he be.”
As all this was
perfectly inexplicable to the Sheriff, he was very glad to wait patiently until
the black brought a lantern from the kitchen, when he followed Aggy to the
kennel, where he beheld poor Brave, indeed, lying in his blood, stiff and cold,
but decently covered with the great-coat of the negro. He was on the point of
demanding an explanation; but the grief of the black, who had fallen asleep on
his voluntary watch, having burst out afresh on his waking, utterly
disqualified the lad from giving one. Luckily, at this moment the principal
door of the house opened, and the coarse features of Benjamin were thrust over
the threshold, with a candle elevated above them, shedding its dim rays around
in such a manner as to exhibit the lights and shadows of his countenance.
Richard threw his bridle to the black, and bidding him look to the horse, he
entered the hall.
“What is the meaning of
the dead dog?” he cried. “Where is Miss Temple?”
Benjamin made one of
his square gestures, with the thumb of his left hand pointing over his right
shoulder, as he answered--
“Turned in.”
“Judge Temple--where is
he?”
“In his birth.”
“But explain; why is
Brave dead? and what is the cause of Aggy’s grief?”
“Why, it’s all down,
Squire,” said Benjamin, pointing to a slate that lay on the table, by the side
of a mug of toddy, a short pipe, in which the tobacco was yet burning, and a Prayer-book.
Among the other
pursuits of Richard, it was a passion to keep a register of all passing events;
and his diary, which was written in the manner of a journal, or log-book,
embraced not only such circumstances as affected himself, but observations on
the weather, and all the occurrences of the family, and frequently of the
village. Since his appointment to the office of Sheriff, and his consequent
absences from home, he had employed Benjamin to make memoranda, on a slate, of
whatever might be thought worth remembering, which, on his return, were
regularly transferred to the journal, with proper notations of the time,
manner, and other little particulars. There was, to be sure, one material
objection to the clerkship of Benjamin, which the ingenuity of no one but
Richard could have overcome. The steward read nothing but his Prayer-book, and
that only in particular parts, and by the aid of a good deal of spelling, and
some misnomers; but he could not form a single letter with a pen. This would
have been an insuperable bar to journalizing, with most men; but Richard
invented a kind of hieroglyphical character, which was intended to note all the
ordinary occurrences of a day, such as how the wind blew, whether the sun
shone, or whether it rained, the hours, &c.; and for the extraordinary,
after giving certain elementary lectures on the subject, the Sheriff was
obliged to trust to the ingenuity of the Major-domo. The reader will at once
perceive, that it was to this chronicle that Benjamin pointed, instead of
directly answering the Sheriff’s interrogatory.
When Mr. Jones had
drunk a glass of the toddy, he brought forth, from its secret place, his proper
journal, and, seating himself by the table, he prepared to transfer the
contents of the slate to the paper, at the same time that he appeased his
curiosity. Benjamin laid one hand on the back of the Sheriff’s chair, in a
familiar manner, while he kept the other at liberty, to make use of a
fore-finger, that was bent like some of his own characters, as an index to
point out his meaning.
The first thing
referred to by the Sheriff was the diagram of a compass, that was cut in one
corner of the slate for permanent use. The cardinal points were plainly marked
on it, and all the usual divisions were indicated in such a manner, that no man
who had ever steered a ship could mistake them.
“Oh!” said the Sheriff,
settling himself down comfortably in his chair--“you’d the wind south-east, I
see, all last night; I thought it would have blown up rain.”
“Devil the drop, sir,”
said Benjamin; “I believe that the scuttle-butt up aloft is emptied, for there
hasn’t so much water fell in the county, for the last three weeks, as would
float Indian John’s canoe, and that draws just one inch nothing, light.”
“Well, but didn’t the
wind change here this morning? there was a change where I was.”
“To be sure it did,
Squire; and haven’t I logged it as a shift of wind.”
“I don’t see where,
Benjamin; I”--
“Don’t see!”
interrupted the steward, a little crustily; “an’t there a mark ag’in
east-and-by-nothe-half-nothe, with sum’mat like a rising sun at the end of it,
to show ’twas in the morning watch?”
“Yes, yes, that is very
legible; but where is the change noted?”
“Where! why doesn’t it
see this here tea-kettle, with a mark run from the spout straight, or mayhap a
little crooked or so, into west-and-by-southe-half-southe? now I calls this a
shift of wind, Squire. Well, do you see this here boar’s head that you made for
me, alongside of the compass”--
“Ay, ay--Boreas--I see.
Why, you’ve drawn lines from its mouth, extending from one of your marks to the
other.”
“It’s no fault of mine,
Squire Dickens; ’tis your d--d climate. The wind has been at all them there
marks this very day; and that’s all round the compass, except a little matter
of an Irishman’s hurricane at meridium, which you’ll find marked right up and
down. Now I’ve known a sow-wester blow for three weeks, in the Channel, with a
clean drizzle in which you might wash your face and hands, without the trouble
of hauling in water from alongside.”
“Very well, Benjamin,”
said the Sheriff, writing in his journal; “I believe I have caught the idea.
Oh! here’s a cloud over the rising sun;-- so you had it hazy in the morning?”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said
Benjamin.
“Ah! it’s Sunday, and
here are the marks for the length of the sermon--one, two, three, four-- What!
did Mr. Grant preach forty minutes!”
“Ay, sum’mat like it;
it was a good half-hour by my own glass, and then there was the time lost in
turning it, and some little allowance for leeway in not being over smart about
it.”
“But, Benjamin, this is
as long as a Presbyterian sermon; you never could have been ten minutes in
turning the glass!”
“Why, d’ye see, Squire,
the parson was very solemn, and I just closed my eyes in order to think the
better with myself, just the same as you’dput in the dead-lights to make all
snug, and when I opened them ag’in I found the congregation were getting under
weigh for home, so I calculated the ten minutes would cover the lee-way after
the glass was out. It was only some such matter as a cat’s nap.”
“Oh, ho! master
Benjamin, you were asleep, were you! but I’ll set down no such slander against
an orthodox divine.” Richard wrote twenty-nine minutes in his journal, and
continued --“Why, what’s this you’ve got opposite ten o’clock, A. M.? a full
moon! had you a moon visible by day! I have heard of such portents before now,
but--eh! what’s this alongside of it? an hour-glass?”
“That!” said Benjamin,
looking coolly over the Sheriff’s shoulder, and rolling the tobacco about in
his mouth with a jocular air; “why that’s a small matter of my own. It’s no
moon, Squire, but only Betty Hollister’s face; for, d’ye see, sir, hearing all
the same as if she had got up a new cargo of Jamaiky from the river, I called
in as I was going to the church this morning--ten, A. M. was it? just the
time--and tried a glass; and so I logged it, to put me in mind of calling to
pay her like an honest man.”
“That was it, was it?”
said the Sheriff, with some displeasure at this innovation on his memoranda; “and
could you not make a better glass than this? it looks like a death’s head and
an hour-glass.”
“Why, as I liked the
stuff, Squire,” returned the steward, “I turned in, homeward bound, and took t’other
glass, which I set down at the bottom of the first, and that gives the thing
the shape it has. But as I was there ag’in to-night, and paid for the three at
once, your honour may as well run the sponge over the whole business.”
“I will buy you a slate
for your own affairs, Benjamin,” said the Sheriff; “for I don’t like to have
the journal marked over in this manner.”
“You needn’t--you needn’t,
Squire; for, seeing that I was likely to trade often with the woman while this
barrel lasted, I’ve opened a fair account with Betty, and she keeps the marks
on the back of her bar door, and I keeps the tally on this here bit of a stick.”
As Benjamin concluded
he produced a piece of wood, on which five very honest, large notches were
apparent. The Sheriff cast his eyes on this new leger, for a moment, and
continued--
“What have we here!
Saturday, two P. M.-- why here’s a whole family piece! two wine-glasses
up-side-down!”
“That’s two women; the
one this a-way is Miss ’Lizzy, and t’other is the parson’s young’un.”
“Cousin Bess and Miss
Grant!” exclaimed the Sheriff, in amazement; “why, what have they to do with my
journal?”
“They’d enough to do to
get out of the jaws of that there painter, or panther,” said the immoveable
steward. “This here thingum’y, Squire, that maybe looks sum’mat like a rat, is
the beast, d’ye see; and this here t’other thing, keel uppermost, is poor old
Brave, who died nobly, all the same as an admiral fighting for his king and
country; and that there”--
“Scarecrow,”
interrupted Richard.
“Ay, mayhap it do look
a little wild or so,” continued the steward; “but to my judgment, Squire, it’s
the best imager I’ve made, seeing it’s most like the man himself;--well, that’s
Natty Bumppo, who shot this here painter, that killed that there dog, who would
have eaten or done worse to them here young ladies.”
“And what the devil
does all this mean?” cried Richard, impatiently.
“Mean!” echoed
Benjamin; “it’s as true as the Boadishey’s log-book”--
He was interrupted by
the Sheriff, who put a few direct questions to him, that obtained more
intelligible answers, by which means he became possessed of a tolerably correct
idea of the truth. When the wonder, and, we must do Richard the justice to say,
the feelings also, that were created by this narrative, had in some degree
subsided, the Sheriff turned his eyes again on his journal, where more
inexplicable hieroglyphics met his view.
“What have we here!” he
cried; “two men boxing! has there been a breach of the peace? ah! that’s the
way, the moment my back is turned”--
“That’s the Judge and
young Master Edwards,” interrupted the steward, very cavalierly.
“How! ’duke fighting
with Oliver! what the devil has got into you all? more things have happened
within the last thirty-six hours, than in the preceding six months.”
“Yes, it’s so indeed,
Squire,” returned the steward; “I’ve known a smart chase, and a fight at the
tail of it, where less has been logged than I’ve got on that there slate.
Howsomnever, they didn’t come to facers, only passed a little jaw fore and aft.”
“Explain! explain!”
cried Richard--“it was about the mines, ha!--ay, ay, I see it, I see it; here
is a man with a pick on his shoulder. So you heard it all, Benjamin?”
“Why yes, it was about
their minds, I believe, Squire,” returned the steward; “and by what I can
learn, they spoke them pretty plainly to one another. Indeed, I may say that I
overheard asmall matter of it myself, seeing that the windows was open, and I
hard by. But this here is no pick, but an anchor on a man’s shoulder; and here’s
the other fluke down his back, maybe a little too close, which signifies that
the lad has got under way and left his moorings.”
“Has Edwards left the
house?” demanded Richard, peremptorily.
“He has,” said the
steward.
Richard pursued this
advantage, and, after a long and close examination, he succeeded in getting out
of Benjamin all that he knew, not only concerning the misunderstanding, but of
the attempt to search the hut, and Hiram’s discomfiture. The Sheriff was no
sooner possessed of these facts, which Benjamin related with all possible
tenderness to the Leather-stocking, than, snatching up his hat, and bidding the
astonished steward to secure the doors and go to his bed, he left the house.
For at least five
minutes after Richard disappeared, Benjamin stood with his arms a-kimbo, and
his eyes fastened on the door; when, having collected his astonished faculties,
he prepared to execute the orders he had received.
It has been already
said, that the “court of common pleas and general sessions of the peace,” or,
as it is commonly called, the “county court,” over which Judge Temple presided,
held one of its stated sessions on the following morning. The attendants of
Richard were officers who had come to the village as much to discharge their
usual duties at this court, as to escort the prisoners; and the Sheriff knew
their habits too well, not to feel confident he should find most, if not all of
them, in the public room of the gaol, discussing the qualities of the keeper’s
liquors. Accordingly he held his way, through the silent streetsof the village,
directly to the small and insecure building, that contained all the unfortunate
debtors, and some of the criminals of the county, and where justice was
administered to such unwary applicants as were so silly as to throw away two
dollars, in order to obtain one from their neighbours. The arrival of four
malefactors in the custody of a dozen officers, was an event, at that day, in
Templeton; and when the Sheriff reached the gaol, he found every indication
that his subordinates intended to make a night of it.
The nod of the Sheriff
brought two of his deputies to the door, who in their turn drew off six or
seven of the constables. With this force Richard led the way through the
village, towards the bank of the lake, undisturbed by any noise, except the
barking of one or two curs, who were alarmed by the measured tread of the
party, and by the low murmurs that run through their own numbers, as a few
cautious questions and answers were exchanged, relative to the object of their
expedition. When they had crossed the little bridge of hewn logs that was
thrown over the Susquehanna, they left the highway, and struck into that field
which had been the scene of the victory over the pigeons. From this they
followed their leader into the low bushes of pines and chestnuts which had
sprung up along the shores of the lake, where the plough had not succeeded the
fall of the trees, and soon entered the deep forest itself. Here Richard
paused, and collected his troop around him.
“I have required your
assistance, my friends,” he said, in a low voice, “in order to arrest Nathaniel
Bumppo, commonly called the Leather-stocking. He has assaulted a magistrate,
and resisted the execution of a search-warrant, by threatening the life of a
constable with his rifle.In short, my friends, he has set an example of
rebellion to the laws, and has become a kind of outlaw. He is suspected of
other misdemeanours and offences against private rights; and I have this night
taken on myself, by the virtue of my office of sheriff, to arrest the said
Bumppo, and bring him to the county gaol, that he may be present and
forthcoming to answer to these heavy charges before the court to-morrow
morning. In executing this duty, my friends and fellow citizens, you are to use
courage and discretion. Courage, that you may not be daunted by any lawless
attempts that this man may make, with his rifle and his dogs, to oppose you;
and discretion, which here means caution and prudence, that he may not escape
from this sudden attack--and--for other good reasons that I need not mention.
You will form yourselves in a complete circle around his hut, and at the word ‘advance,’
called aloud by me, you will rush forward, and, without giving the criminal
time for deliberation, enter his dwelling by force and make him your prisoner.
Spread yourselves for this purpose, while I shall descend to the shore with a
deputy, to take charge of that point; and all communications must be made
directly to me, under the bank in front of the hut, where I shall station
myself, and remain in order to receive them.”
This speech, which
Richard had been studying during his walk, had the effect that all similar
performances produce, of bringing the dangers of the expedition immediately
before the eyes of his forces. The men divided, some plunging deeper into the
forest, in order to gain their stations without giving an alarm, and others
continuing to advance, at a gait that would allow the whole party to get in
order; but all devising the best plans to repulse theattack of a dog, or escape
a rifle-bullet. It was a moment of dread expectation and interest.
When the Sheriff
thought time enough had elapsed for the different divisions of his force to
arrive at their stations, he raised his voice in the silence of the forest, and
shouted the watchword. The sounds played among the arched branches of the trees
in hollow cadences; but when the last sinking tone was lost on the ear, in
place of the expected howls of the dogs, no other noises were returned but the
crackling of torn branches and dried sticks, as they yielded before the
advancing steps of the officers. Even this soon ceased, as if by a common
consent, when, the curiosity and impatience of the Sheriff getting the complete
ascendency over his discretion, he rushed up the bank, and in a moment stood on
the little piece of cleared ground in front of the spot where Natty had so long
lived. To his utter amazement, in place of the hut, he saw only its smouldering
ruins!
The party gradually
drew together about the heap of ashes and ends of smoking logs, while a dim
flame in the centre of the ruin, which still found fuel to feed its lingering
life, threw its pale light, flickering with the passing currents of the air,
around the circle, now showing a face with eyes fixed in astonishment, and then
glancing to another countenance, leaving the former shaded in the obscurity of
night. Not a voice was raised in inquiry, nor an exclamation made in
astonishment. The transition from excitement to disappointment was too powerful
in its effects for speech, and even Richard lost the use of an organ that was
seldom known to fail him.
The whole group were
yet in the fulness of their surprise, when a tall form stalked from the gloom
into the circle, treading down the hot ashesand dying embers with callous feet,
and, standing over the light, lifted his cap, and exposed the bare head and
weather-beaten features of the Leather-stocking. For a moment he gazed at the
dusky figures who surrounded him, more in sorrow than in anger, before he
spoke.
“What would ye have
with an old and helpless man?” he said. “You’ve driven God’s creaters from the
wilderness, where his providence had put them for his own pleasure, and you’ve
brought in the troubles and divilties of the law, where no man was ever known
to disturb another. You have driven me, that have lived forty long years of my
appointed time in this very spot, from my home and the shelter of my head,
least you should put your wicked feet and wasty ways in my cabin. You’ve driven
me to burn these logs, under which I’ve eaten and drunk, the first of Heaven’s
gifts, and the other of the pure springs, for the half of a hundred years, and
to mourn the ashes under my feet, as a man would weep and mourn for the
children of his body. You’ve rankled the heart of an old man, that has never
harmed you or your’n, with bitter feelings towards his kind, at a time when his
thoughts should be on a better world; and you’ve driven him to wish that the
beasts of the forest, who never feast on the blood of their own families, was
his kindred and race; and now, when he has come to see the last brand of his
hut, before it is melted into ashes, you follow him up, at midnight, like
hungry hounds on the track of a worn-out and dying deer! What more would ye
have? for I am here--one to many. I come to mourn, not to fight; and, if it is
God’s pleasure, work your will on me.”
When the old man ended,
he stood, with the light glimmering around his thinly-covered head, looking
earnestly at the group, which recededfrom the pile, with an instinctive and
involuntary movement, without the reach of the quivering rays, leaving a free
passage for his retreat into the bushes, where pursuit, in the dark, would have
been fruitless. Natty seemed not to regard this advantage, but stood facing
each individual in the circle, in succession, as if to see who would be the
first to arrest him. After a pause of a few moments, Richard begun to rally his
confused faculties, and advancing, apologized for his duty, and made him his
prisoner. The party now collected, and, preceded by the Sheriff, with Natty in
their centre, they took their way towards the village.
During the walk, divers
questions were put to the prisoner concerning his reasons for burning the hut,
and whither Mohegan had retreated, but to all of them he observed a profound
silence, until, fatigued with their previous duties, and the lateness of the
hour, the Sheriff and his followers reached the village, and dispersed to their
several places of rest, after turning the key of a gaol on the aged and apparently
friendless Leather-stocking.
“Fetch here the stocks, ho! You
stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart,
We’ll teach you.”
Lear
The long days and early
sun of July allowed time for a gathering of the interested, before the little bell
of the academy announced that the appointed hour had arrived for administering
right to the wronged, and punishment to the guilty. Ever since the dawn of day,
the highways and wood-paths that, issuing from the forests, and winding along
the sides of the mountains, centered in Templeton, had been thronged with
equestrians and footmen, bound to the haven of justice. There was to be seen a
well-clad yeoman, mounted on a sleek, switch-tailed steed, ambling along the
highway, with his red face elevated in a manner that said, “I have paid for my
land, and fear no man,” while his bosom was swelling with the conscious pride
of being one of the grand inquest for the county. At his side rode a companion,
his equal in independence of feeling, perhaps, but his inferior in thrift, as
in property and consideration. This was a professed dealer in lawsuits-- a man
whose name appeared in every calendar; whose substance, gained in the
multifarious expedients of a settler’s changeable habits, was wasted in feeding
the harpies of the courts. He was endeavouring to impress the mind of the grand
juror with the merits of a cause that was now at issue. Along with these two
was a pedestrian, who, having thrown a rifle frock over his shirt, and placed
his best wool hat above his sunburnt visage, had issued from his retreat in the
woods by a footpath, and was striving to keep company with the others, at an
unequal gait, on his way to hear and to decide the disputes of his neighbours
as a petit juror.
By ten o’clock the
streets of the village were filled with groups of men with busy faces, some
talking of their private concerns, some listening to a popular expounder of
political creeds, and others gaping in at the open stores, admiring the finery,
or examining sithes, axes, and such other manufactures as attracted their
curiosity or excited their admiration. A few women were to be observed in the
crowd, mostly carrying infants in their arms, and followed, at a lounging,
listless gait, by their rustic lords and masters. There was one young couple,
in whom the warmth of connubial love was yet new, walking among the moving
throng, both dressed in their back-wood finery, at a respectful distance from
each other, while the swain directed the timid steps of his bride by the
unbending motions of an extended arm, to which she was appended by grasping his
thumb.
At the first-stroke of
the bell, Richard issued from the front door of the “Bold Dragoon,” flourishing
in his hand a sheathed sword, that he was fond of saying his ancestors had
carried in one of Cromwell’s victories, and crying, in an authoritative tone,
to “clear the way for the court.” The order was obeyed promptly, though not
servilely; the members of the crowd nodding familiarly to the members of the
procession, as it passed. A party of constables with their staves followed the
Sheriff, preceding Marmaduke, and four plain, grave-looking yeomen, who were
his associates on the bench. There was nothing to distinguish these subordinate
judges from the better part of the spectators, except gravity, which they
affected a little more than common, and that one of their number was attired in
an old-fashioned military coat, with skirts that reached no lower than the
middle of his thighs, and bearing two little silver epaulettes, not half so big
as a modern pair of shoulder knots. This gentleman was a colonel of the
militia, in attendance on a courtmartial, who found leisure to steal a moment
from his military, to attend to his civil jurisdiction. But this incongruity
was nothing; it excited neither notice nor comment. Three or four clean-shaved
lawyers followed, as meekly as if they were lambs going to the slaughter, one
or two of whom had contrived to obtain an air of scholastic gravity, by wearing
spectacles. The rear was brought up by another posse of constables, and the mob
followed the whole into the room where the court held its sittings.
The edifice was
composed of a basement of squared logs, perforated here and there with small
grated windows, through which a few wistful faces were gazing at the crowd
without, among which were the guilty, downcast countenances of the
counterfeiters, and the simple but honest features of the Leather-stocking. The
dungeons were to be distinguished, externally, from the debtor’s apartments,
only by the size of the apertures, the thickness of the grates, and by the
heads of spikes that were driven into the logs as a protection against the
illegal use of edgetools. The upper story was of frame-work, regularly covered
with boards, and contained one room decently fitted up for the purposes of
justice. A bench run along one of its sides, and was raised on a narrow
platform to the height of a man above the floor, and was protected in front by
a light railing. In the centre was a seat, furnished with rude arms, that was
always filled by the presiding judge In front, on a level with the floor of the
room, was a large table covered with green baize, and surrounded by benches;
and at either of its ends were placed rows of seats, rising one over the other,
for jury boxes. Each of these several divisions was surrounded by a railing.
The remainder of the room was an open space appropriated to the spectators.
When the judges were
seated, the lawyers had taken possession of the table, and the noise of moving
feet had ceased in the area, the proclamations were made in the usual form, the
jurors were sworn, the charge was given, and the court proceeded to hear the
business before them.
We shall not detain the
reader with a description of the captious discussions that occupied the court
for the first two hours. Judge Temple had impressed on the jury, in his charge,
the necessity for despatch on their part, recommending to their notice, from
motives of humanity, the prisoners in the gaol, as the first objects of their
attention. Accordingly, after the period we have mentioned had elapsed, the cry
of the officer to “clear the way for the grand jury,” announced the entrance of
that body. The usual forms were observed, when the foreman handed up to the
bench two bills, on both of which the Judge observed, at the first glance of
his eye, the name of Nathaniel Bumppo. It was a leisure moment with the court;
some low whispering passed between the benchand the Sheriff, who gave a signal
to his officers, and in a very few minutes the silence that prevailed there was
interrupted by a general movement in the outer crowd; when presently the
Leather-stocking made his appearance, ushered into the criminal’s bar under the
custody of two constables. The hum ceased, the people closed into the open space
again, and the silence soon became so deep that the hard breathing of the
prisoner was audible.
Natty was dressed in
his buck-skin garments, without his coat, in place of which he wore only a
shirt of coarse linen-check, fastened at his throat by the sinew of a deer,
leaving his red neck and weather-beaten face exposed and bare. It was the first
time that he had ever crossed the threshold of a court of justice, and
curiosity seemed to be strongly blended with his personal feelings. He raised
his eyes to the bench, thence to the jury-boxes, the bar, and the crowd
without, meeting every where looks that were fastened on himself. After
surveying his own person, as if in search of the cause of this unusual
attraction, he once more turned his face around the assemblage, and then opened
his mouth in one of his silent and remarkable laughs.
“Prisoner, remove your
cap,” said Judge Temple.
The order was either
unheard or unheeded.
“Nathaniel Bumppo, be
uncovered,” repeated the Judge.
Natty started at the
sound of his name, and raising his face earnestly towards the bench, he said--
“Anan!”
Mr. Lippet arose from
his seat at the table, and whispered in the ear of the prisoner, whenNatty gave
him a nod of assent, and took the deer-skin covering from his head.
“Mr. District Attorney,”
said the Judge, “the prisoner is ready; we wait for the indictment.”
The duties of the
public prosecutor were discharged by Dirck Van der School, who adjusted his
spectacles, cast a cautious look around him at his brethren of the bar, which
he ended by throwing his head aside so as to catch one glance over the glasses,
when he proceeded to read the bill aloud. It was the usual charge for an
assault and battery on the person of Hiram Doolittle, and was couched in the
ancient language of such instruments, especial care having been taken by the
scribe, not to omit the name of a single offensive weapon known to the law.
When he had done, Mr. Van der School removed his spectacles, which he closed
and placed in his pocket, seemingly for the pleasure of again opening and
replacing them on his nose. After this evolution was repeated once or twice, he
handed the bill over to Mr. Lippet, with a cavalier air, that said as much as “pick
a hole in that if you can.”
Natty listened to the
charge against him with great attention, leaning forward towards the reader
with an earnestness that denoted his interest; and when it was ended he raised
his tall body to the utmost, and drew a long sigh. All eyes were turned to the
prisoner, whose voice was vainly expected to break the stillness of the room.
“You have heard the
presentment that the grand jury have made, Nathaniel Bumppo,” said the Judge; “what
do you plead to the charge?”
The old man dropped his
head for a moment in a reflecting attitude, and then raising it, he laughed
again, before he answered--
“That I handled the man
a little rough or so, is not to be denied; but that there was occasionto make
use of all them things that the gentleman has spoken of, is downright untrue. I
am not much of a wrestler, seeing that I’m getting old; but I was out among the
Scotch-Irishers--lets me see--it must have been as long ago as the first year
of the old war”--
“Mr. Lippet, if you are
retained for the prisoner,” interrupted Judge Temple, “instruct your client how
to plead; if not, the court shall assign him counsel.”
Aroused from studying
the indictment by this appeal, the attorney got up, and, after a short dialogue
with the hunter in a low voice, he informed the court that they were ready to
proceed.
“Do you plead guilty or
not guilty?” said the Judge.
“I may say not guilty
with a clean conscience,” returned Natty; “for there’s no guilt in doing what’s
right; and I’d rather died on the spot, than had him put foot in the hut at
that moment.”
Richard started at this
declaration, and bent his eyes significantly on Hiram, who returned the look
with a slight movement of his eye-brows alone.
“Proceed to open the
cause, Mr. District Attorney,” continued the Judge. “Mr. Clerk, enter the plea
of not guilty.”
After a short opening
address from Mr. Van der School, Hiram was summoned to the bar to give his
testimony. It was delivered to the letter, perhaps, but with all that moral
colouring which can be conveyed under such expressions as, “thinking no harm,” “feeling
it my bounden duty as a magistrate,” and “seeing that the constable was back’ard
in the business.” When he had done, and the District Attorney declined putting
any further interrogatories, Mr. Lippet arose,with an air of keen
investigation, and asked the following questions:--
“Are you a constable of
this country, sir?”
“No, sir,” said Hiram, “I’m
only a justice-peace.”
“I ask you, Mr.
Doolittle, in the face of this court, putting it to your conscience and your
knowledge of the law, whether you had any right to enter that man’s dwelling?”
“Hem!” said Hiram,
undergoing a violent struggle between his desire for vengeance and his love for
legal fame; “I do suppose--that in-- that is--strict law--that supposing--maybe
I hadn’t a real--lawful right;--but as the case was --and Billy was so back’ard--I
might come for’ard in the business.”
“I ask you, again, sir,”
continued the lawyer, following up his success, “whether this old, this
friendless old man, did or did not repeatedly forbid your entrance?”
“Why, I must say,” said
Hiram, “that he was considerable cross-grained; not what I call clever, seeing
that it was only one neighbour wanting to go into the house of another.”
“Oh! then you own it
was only meant for a neighbourly visit on your part, and without the sanction
of law. Remember, gentlemen, the words of the witness, ‘one neighbour wanting
to enter the house of another.’ Now, sir, I ask you if Nathaniel Bumppo did not
again and again order you not to enter?”
“There was some words
passed between us,” said Hiram, “but I read the warrant to him aloud.”
“I repeat my question;
did he tell you not to enter his habitation?”
“There was a good deal
passed betwixt us--but I’ve the warrant in my pocket; maybe the court would
wish to see it?”
“Witness,” said Judge
Temple, “answer the question directly; did or did not the prisoner forbid your
entering his hut?”
“Why, I some think”--
“Answer without
equivocation,” continued the Judge, sternly.
“He did.”
“And did you attempt to
enter, after this order?”
“I did; but the warrant
was in my hand.”
“Proceed, Mr. Lippet,
with your examination.”
But the attorney saw
that the impression was in favour of his client, and, waving his hand with a
supercilious manner, as if unwilling to insult the understanding of the jury
with any further defence, he replied--
“No, sir; I leave it
for your honour to charge; I rest my case here.”
“Mr. District Attorney,”
said the Judge, “have you any thing to say?”
Mr. Van der School
removed his spectacles, folded them, and replacing them once more on his nose,
eyed the other bill which he held in his hand, and then said, looking at the
bar over the top of his glasses--
“I shall rest the
prosecution here, if the court please.”
Judge Temple arose and
began the charge.
“Gentlemen of the jury,”
he said, “you have heard the testimony, and I shall detain you but a moment. If
an officer meet with resistance in the execution of a process, he has an
undoubted right to call any citizen to his assistance; and the acts of such
assistant come within the protection of the law. I shall leave you to judge,
gentlemen, from the testimony, how far the witness inthis prosecution can be so
considered, feeling less reluctance to submit the case thus informally to your
decision, because there is yet another indictment to be tried, which involves
heavier charges against the unfortunate prisoner.”
The tone of Marmaduke
was mild and insinuating, and as his sentiments were given with such apparent
impartiality, they did not fail of carrying their due weight to the jury. The
grave-looking yeomen, who composed this tribunal, laid their heads together for
a few minutes, without leaving their box, when the foreman arose, and after the
forms of the court were duly observed, he pronounced the prisoner to be--
“Not guilty.”
“You are acquitted of
this charge, Nathaniel Bumppo,” said the Judge.
“Anan!” said Natty.
“You are found not
guilty of striking and assaulting Mr. Doolittle.”
“No, no, I’ll not deny
but that I took him a little roughly by the shoulders,” said Natty, looking
about him with great simplicity, “and that I”--
“You are acquitted,”
interrupted the Judge; “and there is nothing further to be done or said in the
matter.”
A look of joy lighted
up the features of the old man, who now comprehended the case, and, placing his
cap eagerly on his head again, he threw up the bar of his little prison, and
said feelingly--
“I must say this for
you, Judge Temple, that the law has not been as hard on me as I dreaded. I hope
God will bless you for the kind things you’ve done to me this day.”
But the staff of the
constable was opposed to his egress, and Mr. Lippet whispered a few words in
his ear, when the aged hunter sunk back into his place, and removing his cap,
stroked down theremnants of his gray and sandy locks, with an air of
mortification mingled with submission.
“Mr. District Attorney,”
said Judge Temple, affecting to busy himself with his minutes, “proceed with
the second indictment.”
Mr. Van der School took
great care that no part of the presentment, which he now read, should be lost
on his auditors. It accused the prisoner of resisting the execution of a
search-warrant by force of arms, and particularized, in the vague language of
the law, among a variety of other weapons, the use of the rifle. This was indeed
a more serious charge than an ordinary assault and battery, and a corresponding
degree of interest was manifested by the spectators in its result. The prisoner
was duly arraigned, and his plea again demanded. Mr. Lippet had anticipated the
answers of Natty, and in a whisper advised him how to plead. But the feelings
of the old hunter were awakened by some of the expressions of the indictment,
and, forgetful of his caution, he exclaimed--
“’Tis a wicked untruth;
I carve no man’s blood. Them thieves, the Iroquois, won’t say it to my face,
that I ever thirsted after man’s blood. I have fought as a soldier that feared
his Maker and his officer, but I never pulled a trigger on any but a warrior
that was up and awake. No man can say that I ever struck even a Mingo in his
blanket. I b’lieve there’s some who thinks there’s no God in a wilderness!”
“Attend to your plea,
Bumppo,” said the Judge; “you hear that you are accused of using your rifle
against an officer of justice; are you guilty or not guilty?”
By this time the
irritated feelings of Natty had found a vent; and he rested on the bar for a
moment, in a musing posture, when he lifted his face,with his silent laugh, and
pointing to where the wood-chopper stood, he said--
“Would Billy Kirby be
standing there, d’ye think, if I had used the rifle?”
“Then you deny it,”
said Mr. Lippet; “you plead not guilty?”
“Sartain,” said Natty; “Billy
knows that I never fired at all. Billy, do you remember the turkey last winter?
ah! me! that was better than common firing; but I can’t shoot as I used to
could.”
“Enter the plea of not
guilty,” said Judge Temple, strongly affected by the simplicity of the
prisoner.
Hiram was again sworn,
and his testimony given on the second charge. He had discovered his former
error, and proceeded more cautiously than before. He related very distinctly,
and, for the man, with amazing terseness, the suspicion against the hunter, the
complaint, the issuing of the warrant, and the swearing in of Kirby; all of
which, he affirmed, were done in due form of law. He then added the manner in
which the constable had been received; and stated distinctly that Natty had
pointed the rifle at Kirby, and threatened his life, if he attempted to execute
his duty. All this was confirmed by Jotham, who was observed to adhere closely
to the story of the magistrate. Mr. Lippet conducted an artful cross
examination of these two witnesses, but, after consuming much time, was
compelled to relinquish the attempt to obtain any advantage, in despair.
At length the District
Attorney called the wood-chopper to the bar. Billy gave an extremely confused
account of the affair, although he evidently aimed at the truth, until Mr. Van
der School addressed him, by asking some direct questions:--
“It appears, from
examining the papers, thatyou demanded admission into the hut legally; so you
were put in bodily fear by his rifle and threats?”
“I didn’t mind them
that, man,” said Billy, snapping his fingers; “I should be a poor stick, to
mind such a one as old Leather-stocking.”
“But I understood you
to say, (referring to your previous words, (as delivered here in court,) in the
commencement of your testimony,) that you thought he meant to shoot you?”
“To be sure I did; and
so would you too, Squire, if you had seen the chap dropping a muzzle that never
misses, and cocking an eye that has a nateral squint by long practice. I
thought there would be a dust on’t, and my back was up at once; but
Leather-stocking gi’n up the skin, and so the matter ended.”
“Ah! Billy,” said
Natty, shaking his head, “’twas a lucky thought in me to throw out the hide, or
there might have been blood split; and I’m sure, if it had been your’n, I
should have mourn’d it sorely the little while I have to stay.”
“Well,
Leather-stocking,” returned Billy, facing the prisoner, with a freedom and
familiarity that utterly disregarded the presence of the court, “as you are on
the subject, it may be that you’ve no”--
“Go on with your
examination, Mr. District Attorney.”
That gentleman eyed the
familiarity between his witness and the prisoner with manifest disgust, and
indicated to the court that he was done.
“Then you didn’t feel
frightened, Mr. Kirby?” said the counsel for the prisoner.
“Me! no,” said Billy,
casting his eyes over his own huge frame with evident self-satisfaction; “I’m
not to be skeared so easy.”
“You look like a hardy
man; where were you born, sir?”
“Varmount state; ’tis a
mountaynious place, but there’s a stiff soil, and it’s pretty much wooded with
beech and maple.”
“I have always heerd so,”
said Mr. Lippet, soothingly. “You have been used to the rifle yourself, in that
country?”
“I pull the second best
trigger in this county. I knock under to Natty Bumppo there, sin’ he shot the
pigeon.”
Leather-stocking raised
his head, and laughed again, when he thrust out a wrinkled hand, and said--
“You’re young yet,
Billy, and haven’t seen the matches that I have; but here’s my hand; I bear no
malice to you, I don’t.”
Mr. Lippet allowed this
conciliatory offering to be accepted, and judiciously paused, while the spirit
of peace was exercising her influence over the two; but the Judge interposed
his authority, by saying--
“This is an improper
place for such dialogues. Proceed with your examination of this witness, Mr.
Lippet, or I shall order the next.”
The attorney started,
as if he were unconscious of any impropriety, and continued--
“So you settled the
matter with Natty amicably on the spot, did you?”
“He gi’n me the skin,
and I didn’t want to quarrel with an old man; for my part, I see no such mighty
matter in shooting a buck?”
“And you parted
friends? and you would never have thought of bringing the business up before a
court, hadn’t you been subpœnaed?”
“I don’t think I
should; he gi’n the skin, and I didn’t feel a hard thought, though Squire
Doolittle got some affronted.”
“I have done, sir,”
said Mr. Lippet, probably relying on the charge of the Judge, as he again
seated himself, with the air of a man who felt that his success was certain.
When Mr. Van der School
arose to address the jury, he commenced by saying--
“Gentlemen of the jury,
I should have interrupted the leading questions put by the prisoner’s counsel,
(by leading questions I mean telling him what to say,) did I not feel confident
that the law of the land was superior to any advantages (I mean legal
advantages) which he might obtain by his art. The counsel for the prisoner,
gentlemen, has endeavoured to persuade you, in opposition to your own good
sense, to believe that pointing a rifle at a constable (elected or deputed) is
a very innocent affair; and that society (I mean the commonwealth, gentlemen,)
shall not be endangered thereby. But let me claim your attention, while we look
over the particulars of this heinous offence.” Here Mr. Van der School favoured
the jury with an abridgment of the testimony, recounted in such a manner as
utterly to confuse the faculties of his worthy listeners. After this exhibition
he closed as follows:--“And now, gentlemen, having thus made plain to your
senses the crime of which this unfortunate man has been guilty, (unfortunate
both on account of his ignorance and his guilt,) I shall leave you to your own
consciences; not in the least doubting that you will see the importance
(notwithstanding the prisoner’s counsel (doubtless relying on your former
verdict) wishes to appear so confident of success) of punishing the offender,
and asserting the dignity of the laws.”
It was now the duty of
the Judge to deliver his charge. It consisted of a short, comprehensive summary
of the testimony, laying bare the artifice of the prisoner’s counsel, and
placing thefacts in so obvious a light that they could not well be
misunderstood. “Living, as we do, gentlemen,” he concluded, “on the skirts of
society, it becomes doubly necessary to protect the ministers of the law. If
you believe the witnesses, in their construction of the acts of the prisoner,
it is your duty to convict him; but if you believe that the old man, who this
day appears before you, meant not to harm the constable, but was acting more
under the influence of habit than by the instigations of malice, it will be
your duty to judge him, but to do it with lenity.”
As before, the jury did
not leave their box, but, after a consultation of some little time, their
foreman arose, and pronounced the prisoner--
“Guilty.”
There was but little
surprise manifested in the court room at this verdict, as the testimony, the
greater part of which we have omitted, was too clear and direct to be passed
over. The judges seemed to have anticipated this sentiment, for a consultation
was passing among them also, during the deliberation of the jury, and the
preparatory movements of the “bench” announced the coming sentence.
“Nathaniel Bumppo,”
commenced the Judge, making the customary pause.
The old hunter, who had
been musing again, with his head on the bar, raised himself, and cried, with a
prompt, military tone--
“Here.”
The Judge waved his
hand for silence, and proceeded--
“In forming their
sentence, the court have been governed as much by the consideration of your ignorance
of the laws, as by a strict sense of the importance of punishing such outrages
as this of which you have been found guilty. They have,therefore, passed over
the obvious punishment of whipping on the bare back, in mercy to your years;
but as the dignity of the law requires an open exhibition of the consequences
of your crime, it is ordered, that you be conveyed from this room to the public
stocks, where you are to be confined for one hour; that you pay a fine to the
state of one hundred dollars; and that you be imprisoned in the goal of this
county for one calender month; and furthermore, that your imprisonment do not
cease until the said fine shall be paid. I feel it my duty, Nathaniel Bumppo,”--
“And where should I get
the money!” interrupted the Leather-stocking, eagerly; “where should I get the
money! you’ll take away the bounty on the painters, because I cut the throat of
a deer; and how is an old man to find so much gold or silver in the woods? No,
no, Judge; think better of it, and don’t talk of shutting me up in a gaol for
the little time I have to stay.”
“If you have any thing
to urge against the passing of the sentence, the court will yet hear you,” said
the Judge, mildly.
“I have enough to say
ag’in it,” cried Natty, grasping the bar, on which his fingers were working
with a convulsed motion. “Where am I to get the money? Let me out into the
woods and hills, where I’ve been used to breathe the clear air, and though I’m
three score and ten, if you’ve left game enough in the country, I’ll travel
night and day but I’ll make you up the sum afore the season is over. Yes,
yes--you see the reason of the thing, and the wickedness of shutting up an old
man, that has spent his days, as one may say, where he could always look into
the windows of heaven.”
“I must be governed by
the law”--
“Talk not to me of law,
Marmaduke Temple,”interrupted the hunter. “Did the beast of the forest mind
your laws, when it was thirsty and hungering for the blood of your own child!
She was kneeling to her God for a greater favour than I ask, and he heard her;
and if you now say no to my prayers, do you think he will be deaf?”
“My private feelings
must not enter into”--
“Hear me, Marmaduke
Temple,” interrupted the old man, with a melancholy tone of voice, “and hear
reason. I’ve travelled these mountains when you was no judge, but an infant in
your mother’s arms; and I feel as if I had a right and a privilege to travel
them ag’in afore I die. Have you forgot the time that you come on to the
lake-shore, when there wasn’t even a gaol to lodge in; and didn’t I give you my
own bear-skin to sleep on, and the fat of a noble buck to satisfy the cravings
of your hunger? Yes, yes--you thought it no sin then to kill a deer! And this I
did, though I had no reason to love you, for you had never done any thing but
harm to them that loved and sheltered me. And now will you shut me up in your
dungeons to pay me for my kindness? A hundred dollars! where should I get the
money? No, no--there’s them that says hard things of you, Marmaduke Temple, but
you an’t so bad as to wish to see an old man die in a prison, because he stood
up for the right. Come, friend, let me pass; it’s long sin’ I’ve been used to
such crowds, and I crave to be in the woods ag’in. Don’t fear me, Judge--I bid
you not to fear me; for if there’s beaver enough left on the streams, or the
buckskins will sell for a shilling a-piece, you shall have the last penny of
the fine. Where are ye, pups! come away, dogs! come away! we have a grievous
toil to do for our years, but it shall be done--yes, yes, I’ve promised it, and
it shall be done!”
It is unnecessary to
say that the movement of the Leather-stocking was again intercepted by the
constable; but before he had time to speak, a bustling in the crowd, and a loud
hem, drew all eyes to another part of the room.
Benjamin had succeeded
in edging his way through the people, and was now seen balancing his short
body, with one foot in a window and the other on the railing of the jury-box.
To the amazement of the whole court, the steward was evidently preparing to
speak. After a good deal of difficulty, he succeeded in drawing from his pocket
a small bag, and then found utterance.
“If-so-be,” he said, “that
your honour is agreeable to trust the poor fellow out on another cruise among
the beasts, here’s a small matter that will help to bring down the risk, seeing
that there’s just thirty-five of your Spaniards in it; and I wish, from the
bottom of my heart, that they was raal British guineas, for the sake of the old
boy. But ’tis as it is; and if Squire Dickens will just be so good as to
overhaul this small bit of an account, and take enough from the bag to settle
the same, he’s welcome to hold on upon the rest, till such time as the
Leather-stocking can grapple with them said beaver, or, for that matter, for
ever, and no thanks asked.”
As Benjamin concluded,
he thrust out the wooden register of his arrears to the “Bold Dragoon” with one
hand, while he offered his bag of dollars with the other. Astonishment at this
singular interruption produced a profound stillness in the room, which was only
interrupted by the Sheriff, who struck his sword on the table, and cried--
“Silence!”
“There must be an end
to this,” said the Judge, struggling to overcome his feelings. “Constable, lead
the prisoner to the stocks. Mr. Clerk, what stands next on the calendar?”
Natty seemed to yield
to his destiny, for he sunk his head on his chest, and followed the officer
from the court-room in silence. The crowd moved back for the passage of the
prisoner, and when his tall form was seen descending from the outer door, a
rush of the people to the scene of his disgrace followed.
“Ha! hu! look! he wears
cruel garters!”
Lear
The punishments of the
common law were still known, at the time of our tale, to the people of
New-York; and the whipping-post, with its companion, the stocks, were not yet
supplanted by the more modern but doubtful expedients of the public prisons.
Immediately in front of the gaol, those relics of the elder times were situated,
as a lesson of precautionary justice to the evil-doers of the settlement.
Natty followed the
constables to this spot, bowing his head with submission to a power that he was
unable to oppose, and surrounded by the crowd, that formed a circle about his
person, exhibiting in their countenances a strong curiosity. A constable raised
the upper part of the stocks, and pointed with his finger to the holes where
the old man was to place his feet. Without making the least objection to the
punishment, the Leather-stocking quietly seated himself on the ground, and
suffered his limbs to be laid in the openings, without even a murmur; though he
cast one glance about him, as if in quest of that sympathythat human nature
always seems to require under suffering. If he met no direct manifestations of
pity, neither did he see any savage exultation expressed, nor hear a single
reproachful epithet. The character of the mob, if it could be called by such a
name, was that of attentive subordination.
The constable was in
the act of lowering the upper plank, when Benjamin, who had pressed close to
the side of the prisoner, said, in his hoarse tones, as if seeking for some
cause to create a quarrel--
“Where away, master
constable, is the use to be found of clapping a man in them here bilboes? it
neither stops his grog nor hurts his back; what for is it that you do the
thing?”
“’Tis the sentence of
the court, Mr. Penguillum, and there’s law for it, I s’pose.”
“Ay, ay, I know that
there’s law for the thing; but where away do you find the use, I say? it does
no harm, and it only keeps a man by the heels for the small matter of two
glasses.”
“Is it no harm, Benny
Pump,” said Natty, raising his eyes with a piteous look to the face of the
steward--“is it no harm to show off a man in his seventy-first year, like a
tamed bear, for the settlers to look on! Is it no harm to put an old soldier,
that has sarved through the war of ’fifty-six, and seen the inimy in the ’seventy-six
business, into a place like this, where the boys can point at him and say, I
have known the time when he was a spictacle for the country! Is it no harm to
bring down the pride of an honest man to be the equal of the beasts of the
forest!”
Benjamin stared about
him fiercely, and, could he have found a single face that expressed contumely,
he would have been prompt to quarrel with its owner; but meeting every where
with looks of sobriety, and occasionally of commiseration, hevery deliberately
seated himself by the side of the hunter, and placing his legs in the two vacant
holes of the stocks, he said--
“Now lower away, master
constable, lower away, I tell ye! If-so-be there’s such a thing hereabouts as a
man that wants to see a bear, let him look and be d--d, and he shall find two
of them, and mayhap one of the same that can bite as well as growl.”
“But I’ve no orders to
put you in the stocks, Mr. Pump,” cried the constable; “you must get up, and
let me do my duty.”
“You’ve my orders, and
what do you need better, to meddle with my own feet? so lower away, will ye,
and let me see the man that chooses to open his mouth with a grin on it.”
“There can’t be any
harm in locking up a creater that will enter the pound,” said the constable,
laughing, and closing the stocks on them both.
It was fortunate that
this act was executed with decision, for the whole of the spectators, when they
saw Benjamin assume the position he took, felt an inclination for merriment,
which few thought it worth their efforts to suppress. The steward struggled
violently for his liberty again, with an evident intention of making battle on
those who stood nearest to him; but the key was already turned, and all his
efforts were made in vain.
“Hark ye, master
constable,” he cried, “just clear away your bilboes for the small matter of a
log-glass, will ye, and let me show some of them there chaps who it is that
they are so merry about.”
“No, no, you would go
in, and you can’t come out,” returned the officer, “until the time hasexpired
that the Judge directed for the keeping of the prisoner.”
Benjamin, finding that
his threats and his struggles were useless, had good sense enough to learn
patience from the resigned manner of his companion, and soon settled himself
down by the side of Natty, with a contemptuousness expressed in his hard
features, that showed he had subsituted disgust for rage. When the violence of
the steward’s feelings had in some measure subsided, he turned to his fellow
sufferer, and, with a motive that might have vindicated a worse effusion, he
attempted the charitable office of consolation.
“Taking it by and
large, Master Bump-ho, ’tis but a small matter, after all,” he said. “Now I’ve
known very good sort of men, aboard of the Boadishey, laid by the heels, for
nothing, mayhap, but forgetting that they’d drunk their allowance already, when
a glass of grog has come in their way. This is nothing more than riding with
two anchors ahead, waiting for a turn in the tide, or a shift of wind, d’ye
see, with a soft bottom and plenty of room for the sweep of your hawse. Now I’ve
seen many a man, for over-shooting his reckoning, as I told ye, moored head and
starn, where he couldn’t so much as heave his broadside round, and mayhap a
stopper clapt on his tongue too, in the shape of a pump-bolt lashed
athwart-ship his jaws, all the same as an out-rigger along side of a
taffrel-rail.”
The hunter appeared to
appreciate the kind intentions of the other, though he could not understand his
eloquence; and raising his humbled countenance, he attempted a smile in vain,
as he said--
“Anan!”
“’Tis nothing, I say,
but a small matter of a squall, that will soon blow over,” continued Benjamin. “To
you that has such a length of keel, it must be all the same as nothing; thof,
seeing that I’m a little short in my lower timbers, they’ve triced my heels up
aloft in such a way as to give me a bit of a slue. But what cares I, Master
Bump-ho, if the ship strains a little at her anchor; it’s only for a dog-watch,
and dam’me but she’ll sail with you then on that cruise after them said beaver.
I’m not much used to small arms, seeing that I was stationed at the
ammunition-boxes, being sum’mat too low-rigged to see over the hammock-cloths;
but I can carry the game d’ye see, and mayhap make out to lend a hand with the
traps; and if-so-be you’re any way so handy with them as ye be with your
boat-hook, ’twill be but a short cruise after all. I’ve squared the yards with
Squire Dickens this morning, and I shall send him word that he needn’t bear my
name on the books again till such time as the cruise is over.”
“You’re used to dwell with
men, Benny,” said Leather-stocking, mournfully, “and the ways of the woods
would be hard on you, if”--
“Not a bit--not a bit,”
cried the steward; “I’m none of your fair-weather chaps, Master Bump-ho, as
sails only in smooth water. When I find a friend I sticks by him, d’ye see.
Now, there’s no better man a-going than Squire Dickens, and I love him about
the same as I loves Mistress Hollister’s new keg of Jamaiky.” The steward
paused, and turning his uncouth visage on the hunter, he survey’d him with a
roguish leer of his eye, and gradually suffered the muscles of his hard
features to relax, until his face was illuminated by the display of his white
teeth, when he dropped his voice, and added--“I say, Master Leather-stocking, ’tis
fresher and livelier than any Hollands you’ll get in Garnsey. But we’llsend a
hand over and ask the woman for a taste, for I’m so jammed in these here
bilboes, that I begin to want sum’mat to lighten my upper-works.”
Natty sighed, and gazed
about him on the crowd, that already begun to disperse, and which had now
diminished greatly, as its members scattered in their various pursuits. He
looked wistfully at Benjamin, but did not reply; a deeply-seated anxiety
seeming to absorb every other sensation, and to throw a melancholy gloom over
his wrinkled features, which were working with the movements of his mind.
The steward was about
to act on the old principle, that silence gives consent, when Hiram Doolittle,
attended by Jotham, stalked out of the crowd, across the open space, and
approached the stocks. The magistrate passed by the end where Benjamin was
seated, and posted himself, at a safe distance from the steward, in front of
the Leather-stocking. Hiram stood, for a moment, cowering before the keen looks
that Natty fastened on him, and suffering under an embarrassment that was quite
new; when, having in some degree recovered himself, he looked at the heavens,
and then at the smoky atmosphere, as if it were only an ordinary meeting with a
friend, and said, in his formal, hesitating way--
“Quite a scurcity of
rain lately; I some think we shall have a long drought on’t.”
Benjamin was occupied
in untying his bag of dollars, and did not observe the approach of the
magistrate, while Natty turned his face, in which every muscle was working,
away from him in disgust, without answering. Rather encouraged than daunted by
this exhibition of dislike, Hiram, after a short pause, continued--
“The clouds look as if
they’d no water inthem, and the earth is dreadfully parched. To my judgment, there’ll
be short crops this season, if the rain doosn’t fall quite speedily.”
The air with which Mr.
Doolittle delivered this prophetical opinion was peculiar to his species. It
was a jesuitical, cold, unfeeling, and selfish manner, that seemed to say, “I
have kept within the law,” to the man he had so cruelly injured. It quite
overcame the restraint that the old hunter had been labouring to impose on
himself, and he burst out in a warm glow of indignation.
“Why should the rain
fall from the clouds,” he cried, “when you force the tears from the eyes of the
old, the sick, and the poor! Away with ye --away with ye! you may be formed in
the image of the Maker, but Satan dwells in your heart. Away with ye, I say! I
am mournful, and the sight of ye brings bitter thoughts.”
Benjamin ceased
thumbing his money, and raised his head, at the instant that Hiram, who was
thrown off his guard by the invectives of the hunter, unluckily trusted his
person within reach of the steward, who grasped one of his legs, with a hand
that had the grip of a vice, and whirled the magistrate from his feet, before
he had either time to collect his senses, or exercise the strength he did
really possess. Benjamin wanted neither proportions nor manhood in his head,
shoulders, and arms, though all the rest of his frame appeared to be originally
intended for a very different sort of a man. He exerted his physical powers, on
the present occasion, with much discretion, and as their positions were a great
disadvantage to his antagonist, without at all discomposing the steward, the
struggle resulted, very soon, in Benjamin getting the magistrate fixed in a
posture somewhat similar to his own, and manfully placed face to face.
“You’re a ship’s
cousin, I tell ye, Master Doo-but-little,” roared the steward--“some such
matter as a ship’s cousin, sir. I know you, I do, with your fair-weather
speeches to Squire Dickens, to his face, and then you go and sarve out your
grumbling to all the old women in the town, do ye. An’t it enough for any
christian, let him harbour never so much malice, to get an honest old fellow
laid by the heels in this fashion, without carrying sail so hard on the poor
dog, as if you would run him down as he lay at his anchors? But I’ve logged
many a hard thing against your name, master, and now the time’s come to foot up
the day’s work, d’ye see; so square yourself, you lubber, square yourself, and
we’ll soon know who’s the better man.”
“Jotham!” cried the
frightened magistrate-- “Jotham! call in the constables. Mr. Penguillum, I
command the peace--I order you to keep the peace.”
“There’s been more
peace than love atwixt us, master,” cried the steward, making some very
equivocal demonstrations towards hostility; “so mind yourself! square yourself,
I say! do you smell this here bit of a sledge-hammer?”
“Lay hands on me if you
dare!” exclaimed Hiram, as well as he could under the grasp which the steward
held on his throttle--“lay hands on me if you dare!”
“If ye call this
laying, master, you are welcome to the eggs,” roared the steward.
It becomes our
disagreeable duty to record here, that the acts of Benjamin now became
perfectly unequivocal; for he darted his sledge-hammer violently on the anvil
of Mr. Doolittle’s countenance, and the place became, in an instant, a scene of
tumult and confusion. The crowd rushed in a dense circle around the spot, while
some run tothe court-room to give the alarm, and one or two of the more
juvenile part of the multitude had a desperate trial of speed, to see who
should be the happy man to communicate the critical situation of the magistrate
to his wife.
Benjamin worked with
great industry and a good deal of skill, at his occupation, using one hand to
raise up his antagonist, while he knocked him over with the other; for he would
have been disgraced in his own estimation, had he struck a blow on a fallen
adversary. By this considerate arrangement he found means, however, to hammer
the visage of Hiram out of all shape, by the time that Richard succeeded in
forcing his way through the throng to the point of combat. The Sheriff
afterwards declared that, independent of his mortification, as preserver of the
peace of the county, at this interruption to its harmony, he was never so
grieved in his life, as when he saw this breach of unity between his favourites.
Hiram had in some degree become necessary to his vanity, and Benjamin, strange
as it may appear, he really loved. This attachment was exhibited in the first
words that he uttered.
“Squire Doolittle!
Squire Doolittle! I am ashamed to see a man of your character and office forget
himself so much as to disturb the peace, insult the court, and beat poor
Benjamin in this manner!”
At the sound of Mr.
Jones’ voice the steward ceased his employment, and Hiram had an opportunity of
raising his discomfited visage towards the mediator. Emboldened by the sight of
the Sheriff, Mr. Doolittle again had recourse to his lungs.
“I’ll have the law on
you for this,” he cried, desperately; “I’ll have the law on you for this.I call
on you, Mr. Sheriff, to seize this man, and I demand that you take his body
into custody.”
By this time Richard
was master of the true state of the case, and, turning to the steward, he
cried--
“Benjamin, how came you
in the stocks! I always thought you were as mild and docile as a lamb. It was
for your docility that I most esteemed you. Benjamin! Benjamin! you have not
only disgraced yourself, but your friends, by this shameless conduct. Bless me!
bless me! Mr. Doolittle, he seems to have knocked your face all of one side.”
Hiram by this time had
got on his feet again, and without the reach of the steward, when he broke
forth in violent appeals for vengeance. The offence was too apparent to be
passed over, and the Sheriff, mindful of the impartiality exhibited by his
cousin in the recent trial of the Leather-stocking, came to the painful
conclusion that it was necessary to commit his major-domo to prison. As the
time of Natty’s punishment was expired, and Benjamin found that they were to be
confined, for that night at least, in the same apartment, he made no very
strong objections to the measure, nor spoke of bail, though, as the Sheriff
preceded the party of constables that conducted them to the gaol, he uttered
the following remonstrance:--
“As to being birthed
with Master Bump-ho for a night or so, it’s but little I think of it, Squire
Dickens, seeing that I calls him an honest man, and one as has a handy way with
boat-hooks and rifles; but as for owning that a man desarves any thing worse
than a double allowance, for knocking that carpenter’s face a-one-side, as you
call it, I’ll maintain it’s ag’in reason and christianity. If there’s a
blood-sucker in this ’ere country, it’s that very chap. Ay! I know him! and if
he hasn’t got all the same as dead-wood in his head-works, he knows sum’mat of
me. Where’s the mighty harm, Squire, that you take it so much to heart! It’s
all the same as any other battle, d’ye see, sir, being fair broadside to
broadside, only that it was fout at anchor, which was what we did in Port Praya
roads, when Suff’ring came in among us; and a suff’ring time he had of it,
before he got out again.”
Richard thought it
unworthy of him to make any reply to this speech; but when his prisoners were
safely lodged in an outer dungeon, ordering the bolts to be drawn and the key
turned, he withdrew.
Benjamin held frequent
and friendly dialogues with different people, through the iron gratings, during
the afternoon; but his companion paced their narrow limits, in his moccasins,
with quick, impatient treads, his face hanging on his breast in dejection, or
when lifted, at moments, to the idlers at the window, lighted, perhaps, for an
instant, with the childish aspect of aged forgetfulness, which would vanish
directly in an expression of deep and obvious anxiety.
At the close of the day
Edwards was seen at the window, in close and earnest dialogue with his friend;
and after he departed it was thought that he had communicated words of comfort
to the hunter, who threw himself on his pallet, and was soon in a deep sleep.
The curious spectators had exhausted the conversation of the steward, who had
drunk good fellowship with half of his acquaintance, and as Natty was no longer
in motion, by eight o’clock, Billy Kirby, who was the last lounger at the
window, retired into the “Templetown Coffee-House,” when Natty rose and hung a
blanket before the opening, and the prisoners apparently retired for the night.
“And to avoid the foe’s
pursuit,
With spurring put their
cattle to’t;
And till all four were
out of wind,
And danger too, ne’er
look’d behind.”
Hudibras
As the shades of
evening approached, the jurors, witnesses, and other attendants on the court,
begun to disperse, and before nine o’clock the village was quiet, and its
streets nearly deserted. At that hour, Judge Temple and his daughter, followed
at a short distance by Louisa Grant, walked slowly down the avenue, under the
slight shadows of the young poplars, holding the following discourse:--
“You can best sooth his
wounded spirit, my child,” said Marmaduke; “but it will be dangerous to touch
on the nature of his offence; the sanctity of the laws must be respected.”
“Surely, sir,” cried
the impatient Elizabeth, “those laws that condemn a man like the
Leather-stocking to so severe a punishment, for an offence that even I must
think very venial, cannot be perfect in themselves.”
“Thou talkest of what
thou dost not understand, Elizabeth,” returned her father. “Society cannot
exist without wholesome restraints. Those restraints cannot be inflicted,
without security andrespect to the persons of those who administer them; and it
would sound ill indeed, to report that a judge had extended favour to a
convicted criminal, because he had saved the life of his child.”
“I see--I see the
difficulty of your situation, dear sir,” cried the daughter; “but in
appreciating the offence of poor Natty, I cannot separate the minister of the
law from the man.”
“There thou talkest as
a woman, child; it is not for an assault on Hiram Doolittle, but for
threatening the life of a constable, who was in the performance of”--
“It is immaterial
whether it be one or the other,” interrupted Miss Temple, with a logic that
contained more feeling than reason; “I know Natty to be innocent, and thinking
so, I must think all wrong who oppress him.”
“His judge among the
number! thy father, Elizabeth?”
“Nay, nay--nay, do not
put such questions to me; give me my commission, father, and let me proceed to
execute it.”
The Judge paused a
moment, smiling fondly on his child, and then dropped his hand affectionately
on her shoulder, as he answered--
“Thou hast reason,
Bess, and much of it too, but thy heart lies too near thy head. But listen: in
this pocket-book are two hundred dollars. Go to the prison--there are none in
this place to harm thee--give this note to the gaoler, and when thou seest
Bumppo, say what thou wilt to the poor old man; give scope to the feelings of
thy warm heart; but try to remember, Elizabeth, that the laws alone remove us
from the condition of the savages; that he has been criminal, and that his
judge was thy father.”
Miss Temple made no
reply, but she pressedthe hand that held the pocket-book to her bosom, and
taking her friend by the arm, they issued together from the enclosure into the
principal street of the village.
As they pursued their
walk in silence, under the row of houses, where the deeper gloom of the evening
effectually concealed their persons, no sound reached them, excepting the slow
tread of a yoke of oxen, with the rattling of a cart, that were moving along
the street in the same direction with themselves. The figure of the teamster
was just discernible by the dim light, lounging by their side, with a listless
air, as if equally fatigued with his beasts, by the toil of the day. At the
corner, where the gaol stood, the progress of the ladies was impeded, for a
moment, by the oxen, who were turned up to the side of the building, and given
a lock of hay, which they had carried on their necks, as a reward for their
patient labour. The whole of this was so natural, and so common, that Elizabeth
saw nothing to induce a second glance at the team, until she heard the teamster
speaking to his cattle in a low voice--
“Mind yourself,
Brindle; will you sir! will you!”
The language itself was
unusual to oxen, with which all who dwell in a new country are familiar; but
there was something in the voice also, that startled Miss Temple. On turning
the corner, she necessarily approached near to the man, and her searching look
was enabled to detect the person of Oliver Edwards, concealed under the coarse
garb of a teamster. Their eyes met at the same instant, and, notwithstanding
the gloom, and the enveloping cloak of Elizabeth, the recognition was mutual.
“Miss Temple!” “Mr.
Edwards!” were exclaimed simultaneously, though a feeling that seemed common to
them both rendered their tones nearly inaudible.
“Is it possible,”
exclaimed Edwards, after the moment of doubt had passed; “do I see you so nigh
the gaol! but you are going to the Rectory, I beg pardon--Miss Grant, I
believe; I did not recognise you at first.”
The sigh which Louisa
uttered, was so faint that it was only heard by Elizabeth, who replied,
quickly--
“We are going not only
to the gaol, Mr. Edwards, but into it. We wish to show the Leather-stocking
that we do not forget his services, and that, at the same time we must be just,
we are also grateful. I suppose you are on a similar errand; but let me beg
that you will give us leave to precede you ten minutes. Good night, sir;
I--I--am quite sorry, Mr. Edwards, to see you reduced to such labour; I am sure
my father would”--
“I shall wait your
pleasure, madam,” interrupted the youth, coldly. “May I beg that you will not
mention my being here?”
“Certainly, sir,” said
Elizabeth, returning his bow by a slight inclination of her head, and urging
the tardy Louisa forward. As they entered the gaoler’s house, however, Miss
Grant found leisure to whisper--
“Would it not be well
to offer part of your money to Oliver? half of it will pay the fine of Bumppo;
and he is so unused to hardships! I am sure my father will subscribe much of
his little pittance, to place him in a station that is more worthy of him.”
The involuntary smile
that passed over the features of Elizabeth was transient as a gleam of flitting
light, and was blended with an expressionof deep and heartfelt pity. She did
not reply, however, and the appearance of the gaoler soon recalled the thoughts
of both to the immediate object of their visit.
The rescue of the
ladies, and their consequent interest in his prisoner, together with the
informal manners that prevailed in the country, all united to prevent any
surprise, on the part of the gaoler, at their request for admission to Bumppo.
The note of Judge Temple, however, would have silenced all objections, if he
had felt them, and he led the way without hesitation to the apartment that held
the prisoners. The instant the key was put into the lock, the hoarse voice of
Benjamin was heard, demanding--
“Yo! hoy! who comes
there?”
“Some visiters that you’ll
be glad to see,” returned the gaoler. “What have you done to the lock, that it
won’t turn?”
“Handsomely,
handsomely, master,” cried the steward; “I’ve just drove a nail into a birth
alongside of this here bolt, as a stopper, d’ye see, so that master
Doo-but-little can’t be running in and breezing up another fight atwixt us,
for, to my account, there’ll be but a ban-yan with me soon, seeing that they’ll
mulct me of my Spaniards, all the same as if I’d overflogged the lubber. Throw
your ship into the wind and lay by for a small matter, will ye? and I’ll soon
clear a passage.”
The sounds of hammering
gave an assurance that the steward was in earnest, and in a short time the lock
yielded, when the door was opened.
Benjamin had evidently
been anticipating the seizure of his money, for he had made frequent demands on
the favourite cask at the “Bold Dragoon,” during the afternoon and evening, and
was now in that state which by marine imagery iscalled “half-seas-over.” It was
no easy thing to destroy the balance of the old tar by the effects of liquor,
for, as he expressed it himself, “he was too low-rigged not to carry sail in
all weathers;” but he was precisely in that condition which is so expressively
termed “muddy.” When he perceived who the visiters were, he retreated to the
side of the room where his pallet lay, and, regardless of the presence of his
young mistress, seated himself on it with an air of great sobriety, placing his
back firmly against the wall.
“If you undertake to
spoil my locks in this manner, Mr. Pump,” said the gaoler, “I shall put a
stopper, as you call it, on your legs, and tie you down to your bed.”
“What for should ye,
Master?” grumbled Benjamin; “I’ve rode out one squall to-day, anchored by the
heels, and I wants no more of them. Where’s the harm of doing all the same as
yourself? Leave that there door free outboard, and you’ll find no locking
inboard, I’ll promise ye.”
“I must shut up for the
night at nine,” said the gaoler, “and it’s now forty-two minutes past eight.”
He placed the little candle he carried on a rough pine table, and withdrew.
“Leather-stocking!”
said Elizabeth, when the key of the door was turned on them again, “my good
friend Leather-stocking! I have come on a message of gratitude to you. Had you
submitted to the search, worthy old man, the death of the deer would have been
a trifle, and all would have been well”--
“Submit to the sarch!”
interrupted Natty, raising his face from resting on his knees, without rising
from the corner where he had seated himself; “d’ye think, gal, I would let such
a varmint into my hut? No, no--I wouldn’t have opened the door to your own
sweet countenance then. Butthey are wilcome to sarch among the coals and ashes
now; they’ll find only some such heap as is to be seen at every pot-ashery in
the mountains.”
The old man dropped his
face again on one hand, and seemed to be lost in a melancholy musing.
“The hut can be
rebuilt, and made better than before,” returned Miss Temple; “and it shall be
my office to see it done, when your imprisonment is ended.”
“Can ye raise the dead,
child!” said Natty, in a sorrowful voice; “can ye go into the place where you’ve
laid your fathers, and mothers, and children, and gather together their ashes,
and make the same men and women of them as afore! You do not know what ’tis to
lay your head for more than forty years under the cover of the same logs, and
to look on the same things for the better part of a man’s life. You are young
yet, child, but you are one of the most precious of God’s creaters. I had a
hope for ye that it might come to pass, but it’s all over now; this put to
that, will drive the thing quite out of his mind for ever.”
Miss Temple must have
understood the meaning of the old man better than the other listeners; for,
while Louisa stood innocently by her side, commiserating the griefs of the
hunter, the heiress bent her head aside, so as to conceal her features, from
the dim light, by her dark tresses. The action and the feeling that caused it
lasted but a moment, when she faced the party, and continued--
“Other logs, and better,
though, can be had, and shall be found for you, my old defender. Your
confinement will soon be over, and before that time arrives I shall have a
house prepared for you,where you may spend the close of your harmless life in
ease and plenty.”
“Ease and plenty!
house!” repeated Natty slowly. “You mean well, gal, you mean well, and I quite
mourn that it cannot be; but he has seen me a sight and a laughing-stock for”--
“Damn your stocks” said
Benjamin, flourishing his bottle with one hand, from which he had been taking
hasty and repeated draughts, while he made gestures of disdain with the other; “who
cares for his bilboes? there’s a leg that’s been stuck up an end like a
gib-boom for an hour, d’ye see, and what’s it the worse for’t, ha! canst tell
me, what’s it the worser, ha?”
“I believe you forget,
Mr. Pump, in whose presence you sit with so much composure,” said Elizabeth.
“Forget you, Miss ’Lizzy,”
returned the steward; “if I do dam’me; you’re not to be forgot, like Goody
Pretty-bones, up at the big house there. I say old sharp-shooter, she may have
pretty bones, but I can’t say so much for her flesh d’ye see, for she looks sum’mat
like an otomy with another man’s jacket on. Now, for the skin of her face, it’s
all the same as a new top-sail with a taught bolt-rope, being snug at the
leaches, but all in a bight about the inner cloths.”
“Peace--I command you
to be silent, sir,” said Elizabeth.
“Ay, ay, ma’am,”
returned the steward. “You didn’t say I shouldn’t drink, though.”
“We will not speak of what
is to become of others,” said Miss Temple, turning again to the hunter--“but of
your own fortunes, Natty. It shall be my care to see that you pass the rest of
your days in ease and plenty.”
“Ease and plenty!”
again repeated the Leather-stocking; “what ease can there be to an oldman, who
must walk a mile across the open fields, before he can find a shade to hide him
from a scorching sun! or what plenty is there where you may hunt a day and not
start a buck, or see any thing bigger than a mink, or maybe a stray fox! Ah! I
shall have a hard time after them very beavers, for this fine. I must go low
toward the Pennsylvany line in sarch of the creaters, maybe a hundred mile, for
they are not to be got here-away. No, no--your betterments and clearings have druv
the knowing things out of the country; and instead of beaver-dams, which is the
nater of the animal, and according to Providence, you turn back the waters over
the low grounds with your mill-dams, as if ’twas in man to stay the drops from
going where He wills them to go. Benny, unless you stop your hand from going so
often to your mouth, you won’t be ready to start when the time comes.”
“Hark’ee, Master
Bump-ho,” said the steward; “don’t you fear for Ben. When the watch is called,
set me on my legs, and give me the bearings and distance of where you want to
steer, and I’ll carry sail with the best of you, I will.”
“The time has come now,”
said the hunter, listening; “I hear the horns of the oxen rubbing ag’in the
side of the gaol.”
“Well, say the word,
and then heave ahead, shipmate,” said Benjamin.
“You won’t betray us,
gal?” said Natty, looking up simply into the face of Elizabeth--“you won’t
betray an old man, who craves to breathe the clear air of heaven? I mean no
harm, and if the law says that I must pay the hundred dollars, I’ll take the
season through, but it shall be forthcoming; and this good man will help me.”
“You catch them,” said
Benjamin, with asweeping gesture of his arm, “and if they get away again, call
me a slink, that’s all.”
“But what mean you!”
cried the wondering Elizabeth. “Here you must stay for thirty days; but I have
the money for your fine in this purse. Take it; pay it in the morning, and
summon patience for your month. I will come often to see you, with my friend;
we will make up your clothes with our own hands; indeed, indeed, you shall be
comfortable.”
“Would ye, children?”
said Natty, advancing across the floor with an air of kindness, and taking the
hand of Elizabeth; “would ye be so kearful of an old man, and just for shooting
the beast which cost him nothing? Such things doesn’t run in the blood, I
believe, for you seem not to forget a favour. Your little fingers couldn’t do
much on a buck-skin, nor be you used to such a thread as sinews. But if he hasn’t
got past hearing, he shall hear it and know it, that he may see, like me, there
is some who know how to remember a kindness.”
“Tell him nothing,”
cried Elizabeth, earnestly; “if you love me, if you regard my feelings, tell
him nothing. It is of yourself only I would talk, and for yourself only I act.
I grieve, Leather-stocking, that the law requires that you should be detained
here so long; but, after all, it will be only a short month, and”--
“A month!” exclaimed
Natty, opening his mouth with his usual laugh; “not a day, nor a night, nor an
hour, gal. Judge Temple may sintence, but he can’t keep, without a better
dungeon than this. I was taken once by the French, and they put sixty-two of us
in a block-house, nigh hand to old Frontinac; but ’twas easy to cut through a
pine log to them that was used to timber.” The hunter paused, and looked
cautiously around the room, when, laughing again, he shoved the steward gently
from his post, and removing the bed-clothes, discovered a hole recently cut in
the logs with a mallet and chisel. “It’s only a kick, and the outside piece is
off, and then”--
“Off! ay, off!” cried
Benjamin, rousing from his stupor; “well, here’s off. Ay! ay! you catch ’em,
and I’ll hold on to them said beaverhats.”
“I fear this lad will
trouble me much,” said Natty; “’twill be a hard pull for the mountain, should
they take the scent soon, and he is not in a state of mind to run.”
“Run!” echoed the
steward; “no, sheer alongside, and let’s have a fight of it.”
“Peace!” ordered
Elizabeth.
“Ay, ay, ma’am.”
“You will not leave us
surely, Leather-stocking,” continued Miss Temple; “I beseech you, reflect that
you will be driven to the woods entirely, and that you are fast getting old. Be
patient for a little time, when you can go abroad openly, and with honour.”
“Is there beaver to be
catched here, gal?”
“If not, here is money
to discharge the fine, and in a month you are free. See, here it is in gold.”
“Gold!” said Natty,
with a kind of childish curiosity; “it’s long sin’ I’ve seen a gold piece. We
used to get the broad joes, in the old war, as plenty as the bears be now. I
remember there was a man in Dieskau’s army, that was killed, who had a dozen of
the shining things sewed up in his shirt. I didn’t handle them myself, but I
seen them cut out, with my own eyes; they was bigger and brighter than them be.”
“These are English
guineas, and are yours,” said Elizabeth; “an earnest of what shall be done for
you.”
“Me! why should you
give me this treasure?” said Natty, looking earnestly at the maiden.
“Why! have you not
saved my life? did you not rescue me from the jaws of the beast?” exclaimed
Elizabeth, veiling her eyes, as if to hide some hideous object from her view.
The hunter took the
money, and continued turning it in his hand for some time, piece by piece,
talking aloud during the operation.
“There’s a rifle, they
say, out on the Cherry Valley, that will carry a hundred rods and kill. I’ve
seen good guns in my day, but none quite equal to that. A hundred rods with any
sartainty is great shooting! Well, well--I’m old, and the gun I have will
answer my time. Here, child, take back your gold. But the hour has come; I hear
him talking to the cattle, and I must be going. You won’t tell of us, gal--you
won’t tell of us, will ye?”
“Tell of you!” echoed
Elizabeth,--“But take the money, old man; take the money, even if you go into
the mountains.”
“No, no,” said Natty,
shaking his head kindly; “I wouldn’t rob you so for twenty rifles. But there’s
one thing you can do for me, if ye will, that no other is at hand to do.”
“Name it--name it.”
“Why, it’s only to buy
a canister of powder;-- ’twill cost two silver dollars. Benny Pump has the
money ready, but we daren’t come into the town to get it. Nobody has it but the
Frenchman. ’Tis of the best, and just suits a rifle. Will you get it for me,
gal?--say, will you get it for me?”
“Will I! I will bring
it to you, Leather-stocking, though I toil a day in quest of you through the
woods. But where shall I find you, and how?”
“Where!” said Natty,
musing a moment--“to-morrow, on the Vision; on the very top of the Vision I’ll
meet you, child, just as the sun gets over our heads. See that it’s the fine
grain; you’ll know it by the gloss, and the price.”
“I will do it,” said
Elizabeth, firmly.
Natty now seated
himself, and placing his feet in the hole, with a slight effort he opened a
passage through into the street. The ladies heard the rustling of hay, and well
understood the reason why Edwards was in the capacity of a teamster.
“Come, Benny,” said the
hunter; “’twill be no darker to-night, for the moon will rise in an hour.”
“Stay!” exclaimed
Elizabeth; “it should not be said that you escaped in the presence of the
daughter of Judge Temple. Return, Leather-stocking, and let us retire, before
you execute your plan.”
Natty was about to
reply, when the approaching footsteps of the gaoler announced the necessity of
his immediate return. He had barely time to regain his feet, and to conceal the
hole with the bed-clothes, across which Benjamin very opportunely fell, before
the key was turned, and the door of the apartment opened.
“Isn’t Miss Temple
ready to go?” said the civil gaoler--“it’s the usooal hour for locking up.”
“I follow you, sir,”
returned Elizabeth, “Good hight, Leather-stocking.”
“It’s a fine grain,
gal, and I think ’twill carry lead further than common. I am getting old, and
can’t follow up the game with the step that I used to could.”
Miss Temple waved her
hand for silence, and preceded Louisa and the keeper from the apartment. The
man turned the key once, and observed that he would return and secure his
prisoners, when he had lighted the ladies to the street. Accordingly, they
parted at the door of the building, when the gaoler retired to his dungeons,
and the ladies walked, with throbbing hearts, towards the corner.
“Now the
Leather-stocking refuses the money,” whispered Louisa, “it can all be given to
Mr. Edwards, and that added to”--
“Listen!” said
Elizabeth; “I hear the rustling of the hay; they are escaping at this moment.
Oh! they will be detected instantly!”
By this time they were
at the corner, where Edwards and Natty were in the act of drawing the almost
helpless body of Benjamin through the aperture. The oxen had started back from
their hay, and were standing with their heads down the street, leaving room for
the party to act in.
“Throw the hay into the
cart,” said Edwards, “or they will suspect how it has been done. Quick, that
they may not see it.”
Natty had just returned
from executing this order, when the light of the keeper’s candle shone through
the hole, and instantly his voice was heard in the gaol, exclaiming for his
prisoners.
“What is to be done
now?” said Edwards-- “this drunken fellow will cause our detection, and we have
not a moment to spare.”
“Who’s drunk, ye
lubber!” muttered the steward.
“A break-gaol! a
break-gaol!” shouted five or six voices from within.
“We must leave him,”
said Edwards.
“’Twould’nt be kind,
lad,” returned Natty; “he took half the disgrace of the stocks on himself
to-day, and the creater has feeling.”
At this moment two or
three men were heardissuing from the door of the “Bold Dragoon,” and among them
the voice of Billy Kirby.
“There’s no moon yet,”
cried the wood-chopper; “but it’s a clear, moonshiny night. Come, who’s for
home? Hark! what a rumpus they’re kicking up in the gaol--here’s go and see
what it’s about.”
“We shall be lost,”
said Edwards, “if we don’t drop this man.”
At that instant
Elizabeth moved close to him, and said rapidly, in a low voice--
“Lay him in the cart,
and start the oxen; no one will look there.”
“By heaven, there’s a
woman’s quickness in the thought,” said the youth.
The proposition was no
sooner made than executed. The steward was seated on the hay, and bid to hold
his peace, and apply the goad that was placed in his hand, while the oxen were
urged on. So soon as this arrangement was completed, Edwards and the hunter
stole along the houses for a short distance, when they disappeared through an
opening that led into the rear of the buildings. The oxen were in brisk motion,
and presently the cries of pursuit were heard in the street. The ladies
quickened their pace, with a wish to escape the crowd of constables and idlers
that were approaching, some execrating, and some laughing at the exploit of the
prisoners. In the confusion, the voice of Kirby was plainly distinguishable
above all the others, shouting and swearing that he would have the fugitives,
threatening to bring back Natty in one pocket and Benjamin in the other.
“Spread yourselves,
men,” he cried, as he passed the ladies, with his heavy feet sounding along the
street like the tread of a dozen; “spread yourselves; to the mountains; they’ll
be in themountain in a quarter of an hour, and then look out for a long rifle.”
His cries were echoed
from twenty mouths, for not only the gaol but the taverns had sent forth their
numbers, some earnest in the pursuit, and others joining it as in sport.
As Elizabeth turned in
at her father’s gate, she saw the wood-chopper stop at the cart, when she gave
Benjamin up for lost. While they were hurrying up the walk, two figures,
stealing cautiously but quickly under the shades of the trees, met the eyes of
the ladies, and in a moment Edwards and the hunter crossed their path.
“Miss Temple, I may
never see you again,” exclaimed the youth; “let me thank you for all your
kindness; you do not, cannot know my motives.”
“Fly! fly!” cried
Elizabeth--“the village is alarmed. Do not be found conversing with me at such
a moment, and in these grounds.”
“Nay, I must speak,
though detection were certain.”
“Your retreat to the
bridge is already cut off; before you can gain the wood your pursuers will be
there.--If”--
“If what?” cried the
youth. “Your advice has saved me once already; I will follow it to death.”
“The street is now
silent and vacant,” said Elizabeth, after a pause; “cross it, and you will find
my father’s boat in the lake. It would be easy for you to land from it where
you pleased in the hills.”
“But Judge Temple might
complain of the trespass.”
“His daughter shall be
accountable, sir.”
The youth uttered
something in a low voice,that was heard only by Elizabeth, and turned to
execute what she had suggested. As they were separating, Natty approached the
heiress, and said--
“You’ll remember the
canister of powder, children. Them beavers must be had, and I and the pups be
getting old; we want the best of ammunition.”
“Come, Natty,” said
Edwards, impatiently.
“Coming, lad, coming.
God bless you, young ones, both of ye, for ye mean well and kindly to the old
man.”
The ladies paused until
they lost sight of the retreating figures, when they immediately entered the
Mansion-house.
While this scene was
passing in the walk, Kirby had overtaken the cart, which was his own, and had
been driven by Edwards without asking the owner, from the place where the
patient oxen usually stood at evening, waiting the pleasure of their master.
“Woa--come hither,
Golden,” he cried; “why how come you off the end of the bridge, where I left
you, dummies?”
“Heave ahead,” muttered
Benjamin, giving a random blow with his lash, that alighted on the shoulder of
the other.
“Who the devil be you?”
cried Billy, turning round in surprise, but unable to distinguish, in the dark,
the hard visage that was just peering over the cart-rails.
“Who be I! why I’m
helmsman aboard of this here craft, d’ye see, and a straight wake I’m making of
it. Ay! ay! I’ve got the bridge right ahead, and the bilboes dead-aft; I calls
that good steerage, boy. Heave ahead.”
“Lay your lash in the
right spot, Mr. Benny Pump,” said the wood-chopper, “or I’ll put youin the palm
of my hand, and box your ears.-- Where be you going with my team?”
“Team!”
“Ay, my cart and oxen.”
“Why, you must know,
Master Kirby, that the Leather-stocking and I--that’s Benny Pump-- you knows
Ben?--well, Benny and I--no, me and Benny--dam’me if I know how ’tis; but some
of us are bound after a cargo of beaver-skins, d’ye see, and so we’ve pressed
the cart to ship them ’ome in. I say, Master Kirby, what a lubberly oar you
pull--you handle an oar, boy, pretty much as a cow would a musket, or a lady
would a marling-spike.”
Billy had discovered
the state of the steward’s mind, and he walked for some time alongside of the
cart, musing with himself, when he took the goad from Benjamin, (who fell back
on the hay, and was soon asleep,) and drove his cattle down the street, over
the bridge, and up the mountain, towards a clearing in which he was to work the
next day, without any other interruption than a few hasty questions from
parties of the constables.
Elizabeth stood for an
hour at the window of her room, and saw the torches of the pursuers gliding
along the side of the mountain, and heard their shouts and alarms; but, at the
end of that time, the last party returned, wearied and disappointed, and the
village became again still as when she issued from the gate, on her mission to
the gaol.
“‘And I could weep’--th’ Oneida chief His descant wildly thus begun-- ‘But that I may not stain with grief
The death-song of my father’s son.’ ”
Gertrude of Wyomihg
It was yet early on the
following morning, when Elizabeth and Louisa met by appointment, and proceeded
to the store of Monsieur Le Quoi, in order to redeem the pledge that the former
had given to the Leather-stocking. The people were again assembling for the
business of the day, but the hour was too soon for a crowd, and the ladies
found the place in possession only of its polite owner, Billy Kirby, one female
customer, and the boy who did the duty of helper or clerk.
Monsieur Le Quoi was
perusing a packet of letters, with manifest delight, while the wood-chopper,
with one hand thrust into his bosom, and the other in the folds of his jacket,
holding an axe under his right arm, stood sympathizing in the Frenchman’s
pleasure with a good-natured interest. The freedom of manners that prevailed in
the new settlements, commonly levelled all difference in rank, and with it,
frequently, all considerations of education and intelligence. At the time the
ladies entered the store they were unseen by the owner, who was saying to
Kirby--
“Ah! ha! Monsieur Beel,
dis lettair mak-a me de most happi of mans. Ah! ma chere France! I vill see you
aga’n.”
“I rejoice, Monsieur,
at any thing that contributes to your happiness,” cried Elizabeth, “but must
hope we are not going to lose you entirely.”
“Ah! Ma’mselle Templ’!
vat honneur I feel to me; mais I ’ave lettair, dat mak-a mon cœur sautez de
joie. Ah! Ma’mselle Templ’, if you ’ave père, ’ave mère, ’ave leetl’--Jean-tone,
vy you dont ’and de ladi a pins, eh!--if you ’ave amis beeg and leetl’ you voud
be glad to go back. Attendez vous, Ma’mselle, si vous plais; je vous lirai. ‘A
Monsieur Monsieur Le Quoi, de Mersereau à Templetone, Noo Yorck, les Etats Unis
d’Amérique. Très cher ami,--Je suis ravis”--
“I apprehend that my French
is not equal to your letter, Monsieur,” said Elizabeth, glancing her eye
expressively at her companion; “will you favour us with its substance in
English?”
“Oh! pardonnez moi--I ’ave
been so long from Paris dat I do forget de--a--a--a--pronunsashong. You vill ’ave
consideration pour moi, and vill excusez my read in France,” returned the
polite Gaul, bowing with deep humility, as if lamenting his ignorance of his
own language; “mais I shall tell you en bon Anglois. I ’ave offeece à Paris, in
Bureau, dans le temps du bon Louis; I fly; run avay to sav-a my ’ead. I ’ave in
Martinique von leetl’ plantation pour sucre--ah! ha!--vat you call in dis
countray--ah! ha!--Monsieur Beel, vat you call de place vere you vork-a? eh?”
“Clearing,” said the
wood-chopper, with a kind nod.
“No, no, clear--vere
you burn-a my troat, eh!”
Billy hitched up his
shoulder, and turned hiseyes askance at the ladies, with a broad grin on his
face, as he answered--
“I guess ’tis a
sugar-bush that the Mounsheer means;--but you mus’nt take that to heart, man; ’tis
the law of the woods.”
“Ah! coquin, I pardonne
you,” returned the Frenchman, placing his hand involuntarily on his throat--“diable!
de law should be altair. Mais, I ’ave sucre-boosh in Martinique: I fly dere
too;--I come ici;--votre père help-a me;--I grow reech--yais! I grow reech;
mais I ’ave not France!--L’Assemblée Nationale pass von edict”--
“What’s that?”
interrupted Billy, who was endeavouring, with much interest, to comprehend the
story.
“Eh! vat dat! vy vat
you call, ven de Assemblee d’ Alban’ mak-a de law?”
“That’s an act of the
Legyslatoore,” said Kirby, with the readiness of an American on such a subject.
“Vell! dis vas act of
Legyslatoore, to restorer my land; my charactair; my sucre-boosh; and ma
countray. Ah! Ma’mselle Templ’, je suis enchanté! mais I ’ave grief to leav-a
you; Oh! yais! I ’ave grief ver mooch.”
The amount of all this
was, that Mr. Le Quoi, who had fled from his own country more through terror
than because he was offensive to the ruling powers in France, had succeeded at
length in getting an assurance that his return to the West Indies would be
unnoticed; and the Frenchman, who had sunk into the character of a country
shop-keeper, with so much grace, was about to emerge again from his obscurity
into his proper level in society.
We need not repeat the
civil things that passed between the parties on this occasion, nor recountthe
endless repetitions of sorrow that the delighted Frenchman expressed, at being
compelled to quit the society of Miss Temple. Elizabeth took an opportunity,
during this expenditure of polite expressions, to purchase the powder privately
of the boy, who bore the generic appellation of Jonathan. Before they parted,
however, Mr. Le Quoi, who seemed to think that he had not said enough,
solicited the honour of a private interview with the heiress, with a gravity in
his air that announced the importance of the subject. After conceding the
favour, and appointing a more favourable time for the meeting, Elizabeth
succeeded in getting out of the store, into which the countrymen now began to
enter, as usual, where they met with the same attention and bienséance as
formerly.
Elizabeth and Louisa
pursued their walk as far as the bridge in profound silence, but when they
reached that place, the latter stopped, and appeared anxious to utter something
that her feelings suppressed.
“Are you ill, Louisa?”
exclaimed Miss Temple; “had we not better return, and seek another opportunity
to meet the old man?”
“Not ill, but
terrified. Oh! I never, never can go on that hill again with you only. I am not
equal to it, indeed I am not.”
This was an unexpected
declaration to Elizabeth, who, although she experienced no idle apprehensions
of a danger that no longer existed, felt most sensitively all the delicacies of
maiden modesty. She stood for some time, deeply reflecting within herself, the
colour gradually gathering over her features at her own thoughts; but, as if
sensible that it was a time for action instead of reflection, she struggled to
shake off her hesitation, and replied firmly--
“Well, then it must be
done by me, and alone. There is no other than yourself to be trusted, or poor
old Leather-stocking will be discovered. Wait for me in the edge of these
woods, that at least I may not be seen strolling in the hills by myself just
now. One would not wish to create remarks, Louisa--if--if--. You will wait for
me, dear girl?”
“A year, in sight of
the village, Miss Temple,” returned the agitated Louisa, “but do not, do not
ask me to go on that hill.”
Elizabeth found that
her companion was really unable to proceed, and they completed their
arrangement by posting Louisa out of the observation of the people who
occasionally passed, but nigh to the road, and in plain view of the whole
valley. Miss Temple then proceeded alone. She ascended the road which has been
so often mentioned in our narrative, with an elastic and firm step, fearful
that the delay in the store of Mr. Le Quoi, and the time necessary for reaching
the summit, would prevent her being punctual to the appointment. Whenever she
passed an opening in the bushes, she would pause for breath, or perhaps, drawn
from her pursuits by the picture at her feet, would linger a moment to gaze at
the beauties of the valley. The long drought had, however, changed its coat of
verdure to a hue of brown, and, though the same localities were there, the view
wanted the lively and cheering aspect of early summer. Even the heavens seemed
to share in the dried appearance of the earth, for the sun was concealed by a
haziness in the atmosphere, which looked like a thin smoke without a particle
of moisture, if such a thing were possible. The blue sky was scarcely to be
seen, though now and then there was a faint lighting up in spots, through which
masses of rolling vapour could be discerned gathering around the horizon, as if
nature were struggling to collect her floods for the relief of man. The very
atmosphere that Elizabeth inhaled was hot and dry, and by the time she reached
the point where the course led her from the highway, she experienced a
sensation like suffocation. But, disregarding her feelings, the heiress
hastened to execute her mission, dwelling in her thoughts on nothing but the
disappointment, and even the helplessness, the hunter would experience, without
her aid.
On the summit of the
mountain which Judge Temple had named the “Vision,” a little spot had been
cleared, in order that a better view might be obtained of the village and the
valley. It was at this point that Elizabeth understood the hunter she was to
meet him; and thither she urged her way, as expeditiously as the difficulty of
the ascent and the impediments of a forest in a state of nature would admit.
Numberless were the fragments of rocks, trunks of fallen trees, and branches,
that she had to conted against; but every difficulty vanished before her
resolution, and, by her own watch, she stood on the desired spot several
minutes before the appointed hour.
After resting a moment
on the end of a log, Miss Temple cast a scrutinizing glance about her in quest
of her old friend, but he was evidently not in the clearing; when she arose and
walked around its skirts, examining every place where she thought it probable
Natty might deem it prudent to conceal himself. Her search was fruitless; and,
after exhausting not only herself, but her thoughts, in efforts to discover or
imagine his situation, she ventured to trust her voice in that solitary place.
“Natty!
Leather-stocking! old man!” shecalled aloud, in every direction; but no answer
was given, excepting the reverberations of her own clear tones, as they were
echoed in the parched forest.
While calling,
Elizabeth gradually approached the brow of the mountain, where a faint cry,
like the noise produced by striking the hand against the mouth at the same time
that the breath is strongly exhaled, was heard, answering to her own voice. Not
doubting in the least that it was the Leather-stocking lying in wait for her,
and who gave that signal to indicate the place where he was to be found,
Elizabeth descended for near a hundred feet, until she gained a little natural
terrace, thinly scattered with trees, that grew in the fissures of the rocks,
which were covered by a scanty soil. She had advanced to the edge of this
platform, and was gazing over the perpendicular precipice that formed its face,
when a rustling among the dry leaves near her drew her eyes in another
direction. Miss Temple certainly was startled by the object that she then saw,
but a moment restored her self-possession, and she advanced firmly, and with
some interest in her manner, to the spot.
On the trunk of a
fallen oak Mohegan was seated, with his tawny visage turned towards her, and
his glaring eyes fixed on her face with an expression of wildness and fire that
would have terrified a less resolute female. His blanket had fallen from his
shoulders, and was lying in folds around him, leaving his breast, arms, and
most of his body bare. The medallion of Washington reposed on his chest, a
badge of distinction that Elizabeth well knew he only produced on great and
solemn occasions. But the whole appearance of the aged chief was more studied
than common, and was in some particulars terrific. Thelong black hair was
plaited on his head, falling either way so as to expose his high forehead and piercing
eyes, without their usual shading. In the enormous incisions of his ears were
entwined ornaments of silver, beads, and porcupine’s quills, mingled in a rude
taste, and after the Indian fashions. A large drop, composed of similar
materials, was suspended from the cartilage of his nose, and, falling below his
lips, rested on his chin. Streaks of red paint crossed his wrinkled brow, and
were traced down either cheek, with such variations in the lines as caprice or
custom suggested. His body was also coloured in the same manner; the whole
exhibiting an Indian warrior prepared for some event of more than usual moment.
“John! how fare you,
worthy John?” said Elizabeth, as she approached him; “you have long been a
stranger in the village. You promised me a willow basket, and I have had a
shirt of calico in readiness for you this month past.”
The Indian looked
steadily at her for some time without answering, and then shaking his head, he
replied, in his low, guttural tones--
“John’s hand can make
baskets no more--he wants no shirt.”
“But if he should, he
will know where to come for it,” returned Miss Temple. “Indeed, old John, I
feel as if you had a natural right to order what you will from us.”
“Daughter,” said the
Indian, “listen:--Six times ten hot summers have passed, since John was young;
tall like a pine; straight like the bullet of Hawk-eye; strong as the buffalo;
spry as the cat of the mountain. He was strong, and a warrior like the Young
Eagle. If his tribe wanted to track the Maquas for many suns, the eye of
Chingachgook found the print of their moccasins. Ifthe people feasted and were
glad as they counted the scalps of their enemies, it was on his pole they hung.
If the squaws cried because there was no meat for their children, he was the
first in the chase. His bullet was swifter than the deer.-- Daughter, then
Chingachgook struck his tomahawk into the trees; it was to tell the lazy ones
where to find him and the Mingoes--but he made no baskets.”
“Those times have gone
by, old warrior,” returned Elizabeth; “since then, your people have
disappeared, and in place of chasing your enemies, you have learned to fear God
and to live at peace.”
“Stand here, daughter,
where you can see the great spring, the wigwams of your father, and the land on
the crooked-river. John was yet young, when his tribe gave away the country, in
council, from where the blue mountain stands above the water, to where the
Susquehannah is hid by the trees. All this, and all that grew in it, and all
that walked over it, and all that fed there, they gave to the Fire-eater--for
they loved him. He was strong, and they were women, and he helped them. No
Delaware would kill a deer that run in his woods, nor stop a bird that flew
over his land; for it was his. Has John lived in peace! Daughter, since John
was young, he has seen the white man from Frontinac come down on his white
brothers at Albany, and fight. Did they fear God! He has seen his English and
his American Fathers burying their tomahawks in each others’ brains, for this
very land. Did they fear God, and live in peace! He has seen the land pass away
from the Fire-eater, and his children, and the child of his child, and a new
chief set over the country. Did they live in peace who did this! did they fear
God!”
“Such is the custom of
the whites, John. Do not the Delawares fight, and trade their lands for powder,
and blankets, and merchandise?”
The Indian turned his
dark eyes on the heiress, and kept them there, with a scrutiny that alarmed her
a little, as he replied, in a louder and more animated voice--
“Where are the blankets
and merchandise that bought the right of the Fire-eater! are they with him in
his wigwam? Did they say to him, brother, sell us your land, and take this
gold, this silver, these blankets, these rifles, or even this rum, for it? No;
they tore it from him, as a scalp is torn from an enemy; and they that did it
looked not behind them, to see whether he lived or died. Do such men live in
peace, and fear the Great Spirit?”
“But you hardly
understand the circumstances,” said Elizabeth, more embarrassed than she would
own, even to herself. “If you knew our laws and customs better, you would judge
differently of our acts. Do not believe evil of my father, old Mohegan, for he
is just and good.”
“The brother of Miquon
is good, and he will do right. I have said it to Hawk-eye--I have said it to
the Young Eagle, that the brother of Miquon would do justice.”
“Whom call you the
Young Eagle?” said Elizabeth, averting her face from the gaze of the Indian as
she asked the question; “whence comes he, and what are his rights?”
“Has my daughter lived
so long with him, to ask this question?” returned the Indian, warily. “Old age
freezes up the blood, as the frosts cover the great spring in winter; but youth
keeps the streams of the blood open, like a sun in the time of blossoms. The
Young Eagle has eyes; had he no tongue?”
The loveliness to which
the old warrior alluded was in no degree diminished by his allegorical speech;
for the blushes of the maiden who listened, covered her burning cheeks, till
her dark eyes seemed to glow with their reflection; but, after struggling a
moment with her shame, she laughed, as if unwilling to understand him
seriously, and replied in a tone of pleasantry--
“Not to make me the
mistress of his secret. He is too much of a Delaware, to tell his secret
thoughts to a woman.”
“Daughter, the Great
Spirit made your father with a white skin, and he made mine with a red; but he
coloured both their hearts with blood. When young, it is swift and warm; but
when old, it is still and cold. Is there difference below the skin? No. Once
John had a woman. She was the mother of so many sons”--he raised his hand with
three fingers elevated--“and she had daughters that would have made the young
Delawares happy. She was kind, daughter, and what I said she did. You have
different fashions; but do you think John did not love the wife of his youth
--the mother of his children!”
“And what has become of
your family, John, your wife and your children?” asked Elizabeth, touched by
the melancholy of the Indian’s manner.
“Where is the ice that
covered the great spring? It is melted, and gone with the waters. John has
lived till all his people have left him for the land of spirits; but his time
has come, and he is ready.”
Mohegan dropped his
head in his blanket, and sat in silence. Miss Temple knew not what to say. She
wished to draw the thoughts of the old warrior from his gloomy recollections,
but there was a dignity in his sorrow, and in his fortitude,that repressed her
efforts to speak again, for some time. After a long pause, however, she renewed
the discourse, by asking--
“Where is the
Leather-stocking, John? this canister of powder I have brought at his request;
but he is nowhere to be seen. Will you take charge of it, and see it delivered?”
The Indian raised his
head slowly, and looked earnestly at the gift of the heiress, which she put in
his hand.
“This is the great
enemy of my nation. Without this, when could the white men drive the Delawares!
Daughter, the Great Spirit gave your fathers to know how to make guns and
powder, that they might sweep the Indians from the land. There will soon be no
red-skin in the country. When John has gone, the last will leave these hills,
and all his family will be dead.” The aged warrior stretched his body forward,
leaning his elbow on his knee, and appeared to be taking a parting look at the
objects of the vale, which were still visible through the misty atmosphere;
though the air seemed to thicken at each moment around Miss Temple, who became
conscious of an increased difficulty of respiration. The eye of Mohegan changed
gradually, from its sorrowful expression to a look of wildness, that might be
supposed to border on the inspiration of a prophet, as he continued--“But he
will go to the country where his fathers have met. The game shall be plenty as
the fish in the lakes. No woman shall cry for meat. No Mingo can ever come. The
chase shall be for children, and all just red-men shall live together as
brothers.”
“John! this is not the
heaven of a Christian!” cried Miss Temple; “you deal now in the superstition of
your forefathers.”
“Fathers! sons!” said
Mohegan with firmness--“all gone--all gone! I have no son but the Young Eagle,
and he has the blood of a white man.”
“Tell me, John,” said
Elizabeth, willing to draw his thoughts to other subjects, and at the same time
yielding to her own secret interest in the youth; “who is this Mr. Edwards? why
are you so fond of him, and whence does he come?”
The Indian started at
the question, which evidently recalled his recollection to the earth, and,
taking her hand, he drew Miss Temple to a seat beside him, and pointed to the
country beneath them, before he answered.
“See, daughter,” he
said, directing her looks towards the north; “as far as your young eyes can
see, was the land of his”--
But immense volumes of
smoke at that moment rolled over their heads, and whirling in the eddies formed
by the mountains, interposed a barrier to their sight, while he was speaking.
Startled by the circumstance, Miss Temple sprung on her feet, and turning her
eyes toward the summit of the mountain, she beheld it covered by a similar
canopy, while a roaring sound was heard in the forest above her, like the
rushing of furious winds.
“What means it, John!” she
exclaimed; “we are enveloped in smoke, and I feel a heat like the glow of a
furnace.”
Before the Indian could
reply, a voice was heard, crying in the woods, with a painful anxiety--
“John! where are you,
old Mohegan! the woods are on fire, and you have but a few minutes for escape.”
The chief put his hand
before his mouth, and making it play on his lips, produced the kindof noise
that had attracted Elizabeth to the place, when a quick and hurried step was
heard dashing through the dried underbrush and bushes, and presently Edwards
rushed to his side, with horror painted in every feature.
“Love rules the court,
the camp, the grove.”
Lay of the Last Minstrel
“It would have been sad
indeed, to lose you in such a manner, my old friend,” said Oliver, catching his
breath for utterance. “Up and away! even now we may be too late; the flames are
circling round the point of the rock below, and unless we can pass there, our
only chance must be over the precipice. Away! away! shake off your apathy,
John, for now is the time of need.”
Mohegan pointed towards
Elizabeth, who, forgetting her danger, had shrunk back to a projection of the
rock, so soon as she recognised the sounds of Edwards’ voice, and said, with
something like awakened animation--
“Save her--leave John
to die.”
“Her! whom mean you?”
cried the youth, turning quickly to the place the other indicated; --but when
he saw the figure of Elizabeth, bending towards him in an attitude that
powerfully spoke her terror, blended with her reluctance to meet him in such a
place, the shock for a moment deprived him of speech.
“Miss Temple!” he
cried, when he foundwords; “you here! is such a death reserved for you!”
“No, no, no--no death,
I hope, for any of us, Mr. Edwards,” she replied, endeavouring to speak calmly,
and rallying her thoughts for the emergency. “There is smoke, but still no fire
to harm us. Let us endeavour to retire.”
“Take my arm,” said
Edwards; “there must be an opening in some direction for your retreat. Are you
equal to the effort?”
“Certainly. You surely
magnify the danger, Mr. Edwards. Lead me out the way you came.”
“I will--I will,” cried
the youth, with a kind of hysterical utterance. “No, no--there is no danger--I
have alarmed you unnecessarily.”
“But shall we leave the
Indian--can we leave him here, as he says, to die?”
An expression of
painful emotion crossed the face of the young man, who stopped, and cast a
longing look at Mohegan; but, dragging his companion after him, even against
her will, he pursued his way, with enormous strides, towards the pass by which
he had just entered the circle of flame.
“Do not regard him,” he
said, in those horrid tones that denote a desperate calmness; “he is used to
the woods, and such scenes; he will escape up the mountain--over the rock--or
he can remain where he is in safety.”
“You thought not so
this moment, Edwards! Do not leave him there to meet with such a death,” cried
Elizabeth, fixing a look on the countenance of her conductor, that seemed to
distrust his sanity.
“An Indian burn! who
ever heard of an Indian dying by fire! an Indian cannot burn; the idea is
ridiculous. Hasten, hasten, Miss Temple, or the smoke may incommode you.”
“Edwards! your look,
your eye, terrifies me! tell me the danger; is it greater than it seems? I am
equal to any trial.”
“If we reach the point
of yon rock before that sheet of fire, we are safe, Miss Temple!” exclaimed the
young man, in a voice that burst without the bounds of his forced composure. “Fly!
the struggle is for your life!”
The place of the
interview between Miss Temple and the Indian has been already described as one
of those platforms of rock which form a sort of terrace in the mountains of
that country, and the face of it, we have said, was both high and
perpendicular. Its shape was nearly a natural arc, the ends of which blended
with the mountain, at points where its sides were less abrupt in their descent.
It was round one of these terminations of the sweep of the rock that Edwards
had ascended, and it was towards the same place that he urged Elizabeth to a
desperate exertion of her speed.
Immense clouds of white
smoke had been pouring over the summit of the mountain, and had concealed the
approach and ravages of the element; but a crackling sound drew the eyes of
Miss Temple, as she flew over the ground, supported by the young man, towards
the outline of smoke, where she already perceived the waving flames shooting
forward from the vapour, now flaring high in the air, and then bending to the
earth, seeming to light into combustion every stick and shrub on which they
breathed. The sight aroused them both to redoubled efforts; but, unfortunately,
there was a collection of the tops of trees, old and dried, which lay directly
across their course; and, at the very moment when both had thought their safety
insured, an eddying of the warm currents of the air swept a forked tongueof
flame across the pile, which lighted at the touch; and when they reached the
spot, the flying pair were opposed by the surly roaring of a body of fire, as if
a furnace were glowing in their path. They recoiled from the heat, and stood on
a point of the rock, gazing in a sort of stupor at the flames, which were
spreading rapidly down the mountain, whose side soon became a sheet of living
fire. It was dangerous for one clad in the light and airy dress of Elizabeth to
approach even to the vicinity of the raging element; and those flowing robes,
that gave such softness and grace to her form, seemed now to be formed for the
instruments of her destruction.
The villagers were
accustomed to resort to that hill in quest of timber and fuel; in procuring
which, it was their usage to take only the bodies of the trees, leaving the
tops and branches to decay under the operations of the weather. Much of the
hill was, consequently, covered with such light fuel for the flames, which,
having been scorching under the sun for the last two months, ignited with a
touch. Indeed, in some cases, there did not appear to be any contact between
the fire and these piles, but the flame seemed to dart from heap to heap, as
the fabulous fire of the temple is represented to relumine its neglected lamp.
There was beauty as
well as terror in the sight, and Elizabeth and the youth stood viewing the
progress of the desolation, with a strange mixture of horror and interest.
Edwards, however, shortly roused himself to new exertions, and, drawing his
companion after him, they skirted the edge of the smoke, the young man
penetrating frequently into its dense volumes in search of a passage, but in every
instance without success. In this manner they proceeded in a semicirclearound
the upper part of the terrace, until, arriving at the verge of the precipice,
opposite to the point where Edwards had ascended, the horrid conviction burst
on both at the same instant, that they were completely encircled by the fire.
So long as a single pass up or down the mountain was unexplored, hope had
invigorated them with her secret influence; but when retreat seemed to be
absolutely impracticable, the horror of their situation broke upon Elizabeth as
powerfully as if she had hitherto considered the danger nothing.
“This mountain is
doomed to be fatal to me!” she whispered, rather than uttered aloud; “we shall
find our graves on it!”
“Say not so, Miss
Temple; there is yet hope,” returned the youth, in the same tone, while the
vacant, horrid expression of his eye, contradicted his words; “let us return to
the point of the rock; there is, there must be, some place about it where we
can descend.”
“Lead me there,”
exclaimed Elizabeth; “let us leave no effort untried.” She did not wait for his
compliance, but turning, retraced her steps to the brow of the precipice,
murmuring to herself, in suppressed hysterical sobs, “My father-- my poor, my
distracted father!”
Edwards was by her side
in an instant, and with aching eyes he examined into every fissure in the
crags, in quest of some opening that might offer the facilities of flight. But
the smooth, even surface of the rocks afforded hardly a resting place for a
foot, much less those continued projections which would have been necessary for
a descent of nearly a hundred feet. Edwards was not slow in feeling the
conviction that this hope was also futile, and, with a kind of feverish
despair, that still urged him to action, he turned to some new expedient.
“There is nothing left,
Miss Temple,” he said, in a hollow accent, “but to endeavour to lower you from
this place to the rock beneath. If Natty were here, or even that Indian could
be roused, their ingenuity and long practice would easily devise methods by
which to do it; but I am a child, at this moment, in every thing but daring.
Where shall I find means? This dress of mine is so light, and there is so
little of it--then the blanket of Mohegan. We must try--we must try--any thing
is better than to see you a victim to such a death!”
“And what shall become
of you!” said Elizabeth. “Indeed, indeed, neither you nor John must be the
sacrifice to my safety.”
He heard her not, for
he was already by the side of Mohegan, who yielded his blanket without a
question, retaining his seat with Indian dignity and composure, though his own
situation was even more critical than that of the others. The blanket was cut
into shreds, and the fragments fastened together; the loose linen jacket of the
youth, and the light muslin shawl of Elizabeth, were attached to them, and the
whole thrown over the rocks, with the rapidity of lightning; but the united
pieces did not reach half way to the bottom.
“It will not do--it
will not do!” cried Elizabeth; “for me there is no hope! The fire comes slowly,
but certainly. See! it destroys the very earth before it!”
Had the flames spread
on that rock with half the quickness with which they leaped from bush to tree,
in other parts of the mountain, our painful task would have soon ended; for
they would have swept off the victims, who were suffering doubly under the
anticipations of their approaching fate. But the peculiarity oftheir situation
afforded Elizabeth and her companion the respite, of which they availed themselves
to make the efforts we have recorded.
The thin covering of
earth over the rock on which they stood, supported but a scanty and faded
herbage, and most of the trees that had found root in the fissures had already
died, during the intense heats of preceding summers. Those which still retained
the appearance of life, bore a few dry and withered leaves, that were drained
of their nourishment; while the others were merely the wrecks of pines, oaks,
and maples. No better materials to feed the fire could be found, had there been
a communication with the flames; but the ground was destitute of the leaves and
boughs that led the destructive element like a torrent over the remainder of
the hill. As auxiliary to this scarcity of fuel, there was one of the large
springs which abound in that country, gushing out of the side of the ascent
above, which, after creeping sluggishly along the level land, saturating the
mossy covering of the rock with moisture, swept round the base of the little
cone that formed the pinnacle of the mountain, and, entering the canopy of
smoke near one of the terminations of the terrace, found its way to the lake,
not by dashing from rock to rock, but by the secret channels of the earth. It
would rise to the surface, here and there, in the wet seasons, when it
exhibited a mimic torrent, overflowing the ground for some distance; but in the
droughts of summer, it was to be traced only by the bogs and moss that
announced the proximity of water. When the fire reached this barrier, it was
compelled to pause, until a concentration of its heat could overcome the
moisture, like an army impatiently waiting the operations of a battering train,
to open its way to death and desolation.
That fatal moment
seemed now to have arrived; for the hissing streams of the spring appeared to
be nearly exhausted, and the moss of the rocks was already curling under the
intense heat that was thrown across the little spot of wet ground, while the
fragments of bark that yet clung to the dead trees, began to separate from
their trunks, and fall to the ground in crumbling masses. The air seemed
quivering with rays of heat which might be seen playing along the parched stems
of the trees. The excited imagination of Elizabeth, as she stood on the verge
of the precipice, and gazed about her, viewing the approach of their powerful
enemy, fancied every tree and herb near her on the point of ignition. There
were moments when dark clouds of smoke would sweep along the little terrace,
and as the eye lost its power, the other senses contributed to give effect to
the fearful horror of the scene. At such moments, the roaring of the flames,
the crackling of the furious element, with the tearing of falling branches,
and, occasionally, the thundering echoes of some prostrated tree, united to
alarm the victims. Of the three, however, the youth appeared much the most
agitated. Elizabeth, having relinquished entirely the idea of escape, was fast
obtaining that resigned composure, with which the most delicate of her sex are
known to meet unavoidable evils; while Mohegan, who was much nearer to the
danger, maintained his seat with the invincible resignation of an Indian
warrior. Once or twice the eye of the aged chief, which was ordinarily fixed in
the direction of the distant hills, turned towards the young pair, who seemed
doomed to so early a death, with a slight indication of pity crossing his
composed features, but it would immediately revert again to its former gaze, as
if alreadylooking into the womb of futurity. Much of the time he was chanting a
kind of low dirge, in the Delaware tongue, using the deep and remarkably
guttural tones of his people.
“At such a moment, Mr.
Edwards, all earthly distinctions end,” whispered Elizabeth; “persuade John to
move nearer to us--let us die together.”
“I cannot--he will not
stir,” returned the youth, in the same horridly still tones. “He considers this
as the happiest moment of his life. He is past seventy; and has been decaying
rapidly for some time; he received some injury in chasing that unlucky deer,
too, on the lake. Oh! Miss Temple, that was an unlucky chase indeed! it has
led, I fear, to this awful scene.”
The smile that beamed
on the lovely features of Elizabeth was celestial, as she answered, in a soft,
soothing voice, “Why name such a trifle now--at this moment the heart is dead
to all earthly emotions!”
“If any thing could
reconcile a man, in the vigour and pride of manhood, to this death,” cried the
youth with fervour, “it would be to meet it in such company!”
“Talk not so, Edwards,
talk not so,” interrupted Miss Temple, “I am unworthy of it; and it is unjust
to yourself. We must die; yes--yes--we must die--it is the will of God, and let
us endeavour to submit like his own children.”
“Die!” the youth rather
shrieked than exclaimed, “No--no--there must be hope yet--you must not, shall
not die.”
“In what way can we
escape?” asked Elizabeth, pointing, with a look of heavenly composure, towards
the fire. “Observe! the flame is crossing the barrier of wet ground--it comes
slowly, Edwards, but surely.--Ah! see! the tree! the tree is already lighted!”
Her words were too
true. The heat of the conflagration had, at length, overcome the resistance of
the spring, and the fire was slowly stealing along the half-dried moss; while a
dead pine kindled with the touch of a forked flame, that, for a moment,
wreathed around the stem of the tree, as it whirled, in one of its evolutions,
under the influence of the air. The effect was instantaneous and magical. The
flames danced along the parched trunk of the pine, like lightning quivering on
a chain, and immediately a column of living fire was raging on the terrace. It
soon spread from tree to tree, and the scene was evidently drawing to a close.
The log on which Mohegan was seated lighted at its farther end, and the Indian
appeared to be surrounded by the fire. Still he was unmoved. As his body was
unprotected, his sufferings must have been great, but his fortitude was
superior to all. His voice could yet be heard, raising its tones, even in the
midst of these horrors. Elizabeth turned her head from the sight, and faced the
valley. Furious eddies of wind were created by the heat, and just at the
moment, the canopy of fiery smoke that overhung the valley, was cleared away,
leaving a distinct view of the peaceful village beneath them.
“My father!--My father!”
shrieked Elizabeth. “Oh! this--this surely might have been spared me--but I
submit.”
The distance was not
too great, for the figure of Judge Temple to be seen, standing in his own
grounds, and, apparently, contemplating, in perfect unconsciousness of the
danger of his child, the mountain in flames. This sight was stillmore painful
than the approaching danger; and Elizabeth again faced the hill.
“My intemperate warmth
has done this?” cried Edwards, in the accents of despair. “If I had possessed
but a moiety of your heavenly resignation, Miss Temple, all might yet have been
well.”
“Name it not--name it
not,” she said. “It is now of no avail. We must die, Edwards, we must die--let
us do so as Christians. But--no-- you may yet escape, perhaps. Your dress is
not so fatal as mine. Fly! leave me. An opening may yet be found for you,
possibly--certainly it is worth the effort. Fly! leave me--but stay! You will
see my father; my poor! my bereaved father! Say to him, then, Edwards, say to
him, all that can appease his anguish. Tell him that I died happy and
collected; that I have gone to my beloved mother; that the hours of this life
are as nothing when balanced in the scales of eternity. Say how we shall meet
again. And say,” she continued, dropping her voice, that had risen with her
feelings, as if conscious of her worldly weaknesses, “how dear, how very dear,
was my love for him. That it was near, too near, to my love for God.”
The youth listened to
her touching accents, but moved not. In a moment he found utterance and
replied:
“And is it me that you
bid to leave you! me, to leave you on the edge of the grave! Oh! Miss Temple,
how little have you known me,” he cried, dropping on his knees at her feet, and
gathering her flowing robe in his arms, as if to shield her from the flames. “I
have been driven to the woods in despair; but your society has tamed the lion
within me. If I have wasted mytime in degradation, ’twas you that charmed me to
it. If I have forgotten my name and family, your form supplied the place of
memory. If I have forgotten my wrongs, ’twas you that taught me charity.
No--no--dearest Elizabeth, I may die with you, but I can never leave you!”
Elizabeth moved not,
nor answered. It was plain that her thoughts had been of heaven. The
recollection of her father, and her regrets at their separation, had been
mellowed by a holy sentiment, that lifted her above the level of earthly
things, and she was fast losing the weakness of her sex, in the near view of eternity.
But as the maiden, standing in her extremity, listened to these words, she
became once more woman. The blood gathered slowly, again, in those cheeks, that
had, in anticipation of the tyrant’s triumph, assumed the livid appearance of
death, until they glowed with the loveliness of her beauty. She struggled with
herself against these feelings, and smiled, as she thought she was shaking off
the last lingering feeling of her nature, when the world, and all its
seductions, rushed again to her heart, with the sounds of a human voice, crying
in piercing tones--
“Gal! where be ye, gal!
gladden the heart of an old man, if ye yet belong to ’arth!”
“List!” said Elizabeth,
“’tis the Leather-stocking; he seeks me!”
“’Tis Natty!” shouted
Edwards, springing on his feet, “and we may yet be saved!”
A wide and circling
flame glared on their eyes for a moment, even above the fire of the woods, and
a loud report followed, that was succeeded by a comparative stillness.
“’Tis the canister! ’tis
the powder.” cried the same voice, evidently approaching them.“’Tis the
canister, and the precious child is lost!”
At the next instant
Natty rushed through the steams of the spring, and appeared on the terrace,
without his deer skin cap, his hair burnt to his head, his shirt of country
check, black, and filled with holes, and his red features of a deeper colour
than ever, by the heat he had encountered.
“Even from the land of
shadows, now,
My father’s awful ghost
appears.”
Gertrude of Wyoming
For an hour after
Louisa Grant was left by Miss Temple, in the situation already mentioned, she
continued in feverish anxiety, awaiting the return of her friend. But, as the
time passed by without the re-appearance of Elizabeth, the terrors of Louisa
gradually increased, until her alarmed fancy had conjured every species of
danger that appertained to the woods, excepting the one that really existed.
The heavens had become obscured, by degrees, and vast volumes of smoke were
pouring over the valley; but the thoughts of Louisa were still recurring to
beasts, without dreaming of the real cause for apprehension. She was stationed
in the edge of the low pines and chestnuts that succeed the first or large
growth of the forest, and directly above the angle where the highway turned
from the straight course to the village and ascended the mountain, laterally.
Consequently she commanded a view not only of the valley, but of the road
beneath her. The few travellers that passed, she observed, were engaged in
earnest conversation, and frequently raised their eyes to the hill, and at
length she saw the people leaving the court-house, and gazing upward also.
Whileunder the influence of the alarm excited by such unusual movements,
reluctant to go, and yet fearful to remain, Louisa was startled by the low,
cracking, but cautious treads, of some one approaching through the bushes. She
was on the eve of flight, when Natty emerged from the cover, and stood at her
side. The old man laughed as he shook her kindly by a hand that was passive
with fear, and said--
“I am glad to meet you
here, child, for the back of the mountain is a-fire, and it would be dangerous
to go up it now, till it has been burnt over once, and the dead wood is gone.
There’s a foolish man, the comrad of that varmint, who has given me all this
trouble, digging for ore, on the east side. I told him that the kearless
fellows who thought to catch a practys’d hunter in the woods after dark, had
thrown the lighted pine knots in the brush, and that ’twould kindle like tow,
and warned him to leave the hill. But he was set upon his business, and nothing
short of Providence could move him. If he isn’t burnt and buried in a grave of
his own digging, he’s made of salamanders. Why, what ails the child! you look
as skeary as if you see’d more painters! I wish there was some to be found,
they’d count up faster than the beaver. But, where’s the good child of a bad
father? did she forget her promise to the old man?”
“The hill! the hill!”
shrieked Louisa; “she seeks you on the hill, with the powder!”
Natty recoiled for
several feet, at this unexpected intelligence, and exclaimed--
“The Lord of Heaven
have mercy on her! She’s on the Vision, and that’s a sheet of fire ag’in this.
Child, if ye love the dear one, and hope to find a friend when you need it
most, to the village, and give the alarm. The men be us’d tofighting fire, and
there may be a chance left. Fly! I bid ye fly! nor stop even for breath.”
The Leather-stocking
had no sooner uttered this injunction, than he disappeared in the bushes, and
when last seen by Louisa, was rushing up the mountain with the activity of
youth, and with a speed that none but those who were accustomed to the toil
could attain.
“Have I found ye!” the
old man exclaimed, when he burst out of the smoke; “God be praised, that I’ve
found ye; but follow, there is no time left for talking.”
“My dress!” said
Elizabeth; “it would be fatal to trust myself nearer to the flames in it.”
“I bethought me of your
flimsy things,” cried Natty, throwing loose the folds of a covering of buckskin
that he carried on his arm, and wrapping her form in it, in such a manner as to
envelope her whole person; “now follow, for it’s a matter of life and death to
us all.”
“But John! what will
become of John,” cried Edwards; “can we leave the old warrior here to perish?”
The eyes of Natty
followed the direction of Edwards’ finger, when he beheld the Indian, still
seated as before, with the very earth under his feet consuming with fire.
Without delay, the hunter approached the spot, and cried in Delaware--
“Up and away,
Chingachgook! will ye stay here to burn, like a tortured Mingo, at the stake!
The Moravians have teached ye better, I hope. The Lord preserve me if the
powder hasn’t flashed a-tween his legs, and the skin of his back is roasting.
Will ye come, I say? will ye follow?”
“Why should Mohegan go?”
returned the Indian, gloomily. “He has seen the days of an eagle, and his eye
grows dim. He looks on the valley; he looks on the water; he looks in
thehunting-grounds--but he sees no Delawares. Every one has a white skin. My
fathers say, from the far-off land, come. My women, my young warriors, my
tribe, say, come. The Great Spirit says, come. No--let Mohegan die.”
“But you forget your
friend,” cried Edwards.
“’Tis useless to talk
to an Indian with the death-fit on him, lad,” interrupted Natty, who seized the
strips of the blanket, and with wonderful dexterity strapped the passive
chieftain to his own back; when he turned, and with a strength that seemed to
bid defiance, not only to his years, but to his load, he led the way to the
point whence he had issued. Even as they crossed the little terrace of rock,
one of the dead trees, that had been tottering for several minutes, fell on the
spot where they had stood, and filled the air with its cinders.
Such an event quickened
the steps of the party, who followed the Leather-stocking with the urgency
required by the occasion.
“Tread on the soft
ground,” he cried, when they were in a gloom where sight availed them but
little, “and keep in the white smoke; keep the skin close on her lad; she’s a
precious one, I tell you, sich another will be hard to be found.”
Obedient to the hunter’s
directions, they followed his steps and advice implicitly, and although the
narrow passage along the winding of the spring led amid burning logs and
falling branches, yet they happily achieved it in safety. No one but a man long
accustomed to the woods could have traced his route through a smoke, in which
respiration was difficult, and sight nearly useless; but the experience of
Natty conducted them to an opening through the rocks, where, with a little
difficulty, they soon descended to another terrace, and emerged at once into a
tolerably clear atmosphere.
The feelings of Edwards
and Elizabeth, at reaching this spot, may be imagined, though not easily
described. No one seemed to exult more than their guide, who turned, with
Mohegan still lashed to his back, and laughing in his own manner, said--
“I know’d ’twas the
Frenchman’s powder, gal; it went so altogether like; your coarse grain will
squib for a minute. The Iroquois had none of the best powder when I went ag’in
the Canada tribes, under Sir William. Did I ever tell you the story, lad,
consarning the skrimmage with”--
“For God’s sake, tell
me nothing now, Natty, until we are entirely safe. Where shall we go next?”
“Why, on the platform
of rock over the cave, to be sure; you will be safe enough there, or we’ll go
into it, if you be so minded.”
The young man started,
and appeared agitated with a strong emotion, but looking around him with an
anxious eye, said quickly--
“Shall we be safe on
the rock? cannot the fire reach us there, too?”
“Can’t the boy see?”
said Natty, with the coolness of one who was accustomed to the kind of danger
he had just encountered. “Had ye staid in the place above ten minutes longer,
you would both have been in ashes, but here you may stay for ever, and no fire
can touch you, until they burn the rocks as well as the woods.”
With this assurance,
which was obviously true, they proceeded to the spot, and Natty deposited his
load, placing the Indian on the ground with his back against a fragment of the
rocks. Elizabeth sunk on the ground, and buried her face in her hands, while
her heart was swelling with a variety of conflicting emotions.
“Let me urge you to
take a restorative, MissTemple,” said Edwards respectfully; “your frame will
sink else.”
“Leave, leave me,” she
said, raising her beaming eyes for a moment to his; “I feel too much for words!
I am grateful, Oliver, for this miraculous escape; and next to my God to you.”
Edwards withdrew to the
edge of the rock, and shouted--“Benjamin! where are you, Benjamin?”
A hoarse voice replied,
as if from the bowels of the earth, “Here, away, master; stow’d in this here
bit of a hole, which is all the same as hot as the cook’s coppers. I’m tired of
my birth d’ye see, and if-so-be that Leather-stocking has got much overhauling
to do before he sails after them said beaver, I’ll go into dock again, and ride
out my quarantine ’till I can get prottick from the law, and so hold on upon
the rest of my ’spaniolas.”
“Bring up a glass of
water from the spring,” continued Edwards, “and throw a little wine in it;
hasten, I entreat you.”
“I knows but little of
your small drink, master Oliver,” returned the steward, his voice issuing out
of the cave into the open air, “and the Jamaiky held out no longer than to take
a parting kiss with Billy Kirby, when he anchored me alongside the highway last
night, where you run me down in the chase. But here’s sum’mat of a red colour
that may suit a weak stomach, mayhap. That master Kirby is no first rate in a
boat, but he’ll tack a cart among the stumps, all the same as a Lon’on pilot
will back and fill through the colliers in the Pool.”
As the steward ascended
while talking, by the time he had ended his speech, he appeared on the rock,
with the desired restoratives, exhibiting the worn out and bloated features of
a man who had run deep in a debauch, and that lately.
Elizabeth took from the
hand of Edwards the liquor which he offered, and then motioned to be left again
to herself.
The youth turned at her
bidding, and observed Natty kindly assiduous around the person of Mohegan. When
their eyes met, the hunter said sorrowfully--
“His time has come,
lad; I see it in his eye; --when an Indian fixes his eye, he means to go but to
one place; and what the wilful creaters put their minds on, they’re sure to do.”
A quick tread diverted
the reply of the youth, and in a few moments, to the amazement of the whole
party, Mr. Grant was seen clinging to the side of the mountain, and striving to
reach the place where they stood. Oliver sprang to his assistance, and by their
united efforts, the worthy divine was soon placed safely among them.
“How came you added to
our number?” cried Edwards; “Is the hill alive with people, at a time like
this?”
The hasty, but pious
thanksgivings of the clergyman were soon ejaculated; and when he succeeded in
collecting his bewildered senses, he replied--
“I heard that my child
was seen coming to the mountain; and when the fire broke over its summit, my
uneasiness drew me up the road, where I found Louisa, in terror for Miss
Temple. It was to seek her that I came into this dangerous place; and I think
but for God’s mercy, through the dogs of Natty, I should have perished in the
flames myself.”
“Ay! follow the hounds,
and if there’s an opening they’ll scent it out,” said Natty; “their noses be
given to them the same as man’s reason.”
“I did so, and they led
me to this place; but,praise be to God, that I see you all safe and well.”
“No, no,” returned the
hunter; “safe we be, but as for well, John can’t be called in a good way,
unless you’ll say that for a man that’s taking his last look at the ’arth.”
“He speaks the truth!”
said the divine, with the holy awe with which he ever approached the dying;--“I
have been by too many death-beds, not to see that the hand of the tyrant is
laid on this old warrior. Oh! how consoling it is, to know that he has not
rejected the offered mercy, in the hour of his strength and of worldly
temptations! The offspring of a race of heathens, he has in truth been ‘as a
brand plucked from the burning.’ ”
“No, no,” returned
Natty, who alone stood with him by the side of the dying warrior, “it’s no
burning that ails him, though his Indian feelings made him scorn to move,
unless it be the burning of man’s wicked thoughts for near fourscore years; but
it’s nater giving out in a chase that’s run too long.--Down with ye, Hector!
down, I say!--Flesh isn’t iron, that a man can live for ever, and see his kith
and kin driven to a far country, and he left to mourn, with none to keep him
company.”
“John,” said the
divine, tenderly, “do you hear me? do you wish the prayers appointed by the
church, at this trying moment?”
The Indian turned his
ghastly face to the speaker, and fastened his dark eyes on him, steadily, but
vacantly. No sign of recognition was made; and in a moment he moved his head
again slowly towards the vale, and begun to sing, using his own language, in
those low, guttural tones, that have been so often mentioned, his notes rising
with his theme, till they swelled to fulness, if not to harmony:--
“I will come! I will
come! to the land of the just I will come! No Delaware fears his end; no
Mohican shrinks from death; for the Great Spirit calls, and he goes. My father
I have honoured; I have cherished my mother; to my tribe I’ve been faithful and
true. The Maquas I have slain!--I have slain the Maquas! and the Great Spirit
calls to his son. I will come! I will come! to the land of the just I will
come!”
“What says he,
Leather-stocking?” inquired the priest, with tender interest; “sings he the
Redeemer’s praise?”
“No, no--’tis his own
praise that he speaks now,” said Natty, turning in a melancholy manner from the
sight of his dying friend; “and a good right he has to say it all, for I know
every word of it to be true.”
“May Heaven avert such
self-righteousness from his heart!” exclaimed the divine. “Humility and
penitence are the seals of christianity; and without feeling them deeply seated
in the soul, all hope is delusive, and leads to vain expectations. Praise
himself! when his whole soul and body should unite to praise his Maker! John!
you have enjoyed the blessing of a gospel ministry, and have been called from
out a multitude of sinners and pagans, and, I trust, for a wise and gracious
purpose. Do you now feel what it is to be justified by your Saviour’s death,
and reject all weak and idle dependence on good works, that spring from man’s
pride and vain-glory?”
The Indian did not
regard his interrogator, but he raised his head again, and said, in a low,
distinct voice--
“Who can say that the
Maquas know the back of Mohegan! What enemy that trusted in him did not see the
morning? What Mingo that he chased ever sung the song of triumph? Did Mohegan
everlie? No; for the truth lived in him, and none else could come out of him.
In his youth, he was a warrior, and his moccasins left the stain of blood. In
his age, he was wise; and his words at the council fire did not blow away with
the winds.”
“Ah! he has abandoned
that vain relic of paganism, his songs,” cried the good divine;-- “what says he
now? is he sensible of his lost state?”
“Lord! man,” said
Natty, “he knows his ind is at hand as well as you or I, but, so far from thinking
it a loss to him, he believes it to be a great gain. He is now old and stiff,
and you’ve made the game so scearce and shy, that better shots than him find it
hard to get a livelihood. Now he thinks he shall travel where it will always be
good hunting; where no wicked or unjust Indians can go; and where he shall meet
all his tribe together ag’in. There’s not much loss in that, to a man whose
hands be hardly fit for basket-making. Loss! if there be any loss, ’twill be to
me. I’m sure, after he’s gone, there will be but little left for me to do but
to follow.”
“His example and end,
which, I humbly trust, shall yet be made glorious,” returned Mr. Grant, “should
lead your mind to dwell on the things of another life. But I feel it to be my
duty to smooth the way for the parting spirit. This is the moment, John, when
the reflection that you did not reject the mediation of the Redeemer, will
bring balm to your soul. Trust not to any act of former days, but lay the
burthen of your sins at his feet, and you have his own blessed assurance that
he will not desert you.”
“Though all you say be
true, and you have scripter gospels for it, too,” said Natty, “you will make
nothing of the Indian. He hasn’t seen a Moravian priest sin’ the war; and it’s
hard to keep them from going back to their nativeways. I should think ’twould
be as well to let the old man pass in peace. He’s happy now; I know it by his
eye; and that’s more than I would say for the chief, sin’ the time the
Delawares broke up from the head-waters of their river, and went west. Ahs! me!
’tis a grievous long time that, and many dark days have we both seen together,
sin’ it.”
“Hawk-eye!” said
Mohegan, rousing with the last glimmering of life. “Hawk-eye! listen to the
words of your brother.”
“Yes, John,” said the
hunter, in English, strongly affected by the appeal, and drawing to his side; “we
have been brothers; and more so than it means in the Indian tongue. What would
ye have with me, Chingachgook?”
“Hawk-eye! my fathers
call me to the happy hunting-grounds. The path is clear, and the eyes of
Mohegan grow young. I look--but I see no white-skins; there are none to be seen
but just and brave Indians. Farewell, Hawk-eye-- you shall go with the
Fire-eater and the Young Eagle, to the white man’s heaven; but I go after my
fathers. Let the bow, and tomakawk, and pipe, and the wampum, of Mohegan, be
laid in his grave; for when he starts ’twill be in the night, like a warrior on
a war-party, and he cannot stop to seek them.”
“What says he,
Nathaniel?” cried Mr. Grant, earnestly, and with obvious anxiety; “does he
recall the promises of the mediation? and trust his salvation to the Rock of
ages?”
Although the faith of
the hunter was by no means clear, yet the fruits of early instruction had not
entirely fallen in the wilderness. He believed in one God, and in one heaven;
and when the strong feeling excited by the leave-taking of his old companion,
which was exhibited by thepowerful working of every muscle in his weather
beaten face, suffered him to speak, he replied--
“No--no--he trusts only
to the Great Spirit of the savages, and to his own good deeds. He thinks, like
all his people, that he is to be young ag’in, and to hunt, and be happy to the
ind of etarnity. It’s pretty much the same with all colours, parson. I could
never bring myself to think that I shall meet with these hounds, or my piece,
in another world; though the thoughts of leaving them for ever, sometimes
brings hard feelings over me, and makes me cling to life with a greater craving
than beseems three-score-and-ten.”
“The Lord in his mercy,
avert such a death from one who has been sealed with the sign of the cross!”
cried the minister, in holy fervour. “John--”
He paused; for the
scene, and the elements; seemed to conspire to oppress the powers of humanity.
During the period occupied by the events which we have related, the dark clouds
in the horizon had continued to increase in numbers and magnitude; and the
awful stillness that now pervaded the air, announced a crisis in the state of
the atmosphere. The flames, which yet continued to rage along the sides of the
mountain, no longer whirled in the uncertain currents of their own eddies, but
blazed high and steadily towards the heavens. There was even a quietude in the
ravages of the destructive element, as if it foresaw that a hand, greater than
even its own desolating power, was about to stay its progress. The piles of
smoke which lay above the valley began to rise, and were dispelling rapidly;
and streaks of vivid lightning were dancing through the masses of clouds that
impended over the western hills. While Mr. Grant was speaking, a flash, which
sent its quiveringlight through the gloom, laying bare the whole opposite
horizon, was followed by a loud crash of thunder, that rolled away among the
hills, seeming to shake the foundations of the earth to their centre. Mohegan
raised himself, as if in obedience to a signal for his departure, and stretched
forth his wasted arm towards the west. His dark face lighted with a look of
joy; which, with all other expression, gradually disappeared; the muscles
stiffening as they retreated to a state of rest; a slight convulsion played,
for a single instant, about his lips; and his arm slowly dropped, rigid and
motionless, by his side; leaving the frame of the dead warrior reposing against
the rock, with its glassy eyes open, and fixed on the distant hills, as if the
deserted shell were tracing the flight of the spirit to its new abode.
All this Mr. Grant
witnessed, in silent awe; but when the last echoes of the thunder died away, he
clasped his hands together, with pious energy, and repeated, in the full rich
tones of assured faith--
“O Lord! how
unsearchable are thy judgments: aud thy ways past finding out! ‘I know that my
Redeemer liveth, aud that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: And
though after my skin, worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God;
whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another.’ ”
As the divine closed
this burst of devotion, he bowed his head meekly to his bosom, and looked all
the dependence and humility that the inspired language expressed.
When Mr. Grant retired
from the body, the hunter approached, and taking the rigid hand of his friend,
looked him wistfully in the face for some time without speaking; when he gave
vent to hisfeelings by saying, in the mournful voice of one who felt deeply--
“Red skin, or white, it’s
all over now! He’s to be judged by a righteous Judge, and by no laws that’s
made to suit times, and new ways. Well, there’s only one more death, and the
world will be left to me and the hounds. Ahs! me! a man must wait the time of
God’s pleasure, but I begin to weary of my life. There is scearcely a tree
standing that I know, and it’s hard to find a face that I was acquainted with
in my younger days.”
Large drops of rain
began now to fall, and diffuse themselves over the dry rock, while the approach
of the thunder shower was rapid and certain. The body of the Indian was hastily
removed into the cave beneath, followed by the whining hounds, who missed, and
moaned for, the look of intelligence that had always met their salutations to
the chief.
Edwards made some hasty
and confused excuse for not taking Elizabeth into the same place, which was now
completely closed in front with logs and bark, saying something that she hardly
understood about its darkness, and the unpleasantness of being with the dead
body. Miss Temple, however, found a sufficient shelter against the torrent of
rain that fell, under the projection of a rock which overhung them. But long
before the shower was over, the sounds of voices were heard below them, crying
aloud for Elizabeth, and men soon appeared, beating the dying embers of the
bushes, as they worked their way cautiously among the unextinguished brands.
At the first short
cessation in the rain, Oliver conducted the heiress to the road, where he left
her. Before parting, however, he found time to say, in a fervent manner, that
his companion was now at no loss to interpret--
“The moment of
concealment is over, Miss Temple. By this time to-marrow, I shall remove a veil
that perhaps it has been weakness to keep around me and my affairs so long. But
I have had romantic and foolish wishes and weaknesses; and who has not, that is
young and torn by conflicting passions! God bless you! I hear your father’s
voice; he is coming up the road, and I would not, just now, subject myself to
detention. Thank Heaven, you are safe again, and that alone removes the weight
of a world from my spirit!”
He waited for no answer,
but sprung into the woods. Elizabeth, notwithstanding she heard the piercing
cries of her father as he called upon her name, paused until he was concealed
among the smoking trees, when she turned, and in a moment rushed into the arms
of her half-distracted parent.
A carriage had been
provided, to remove her body, living or dead as Heaven had directed her fate,
into which Miss Temple hastily entered; when the cry was passed along the hill,
that the lost one was found, and the people returned to the village, wet and
dirty, but elated with the thought that the daughter of their landlord had
escaped from so horrid and untimely an end.
“Selictar! unsheath
then our chief’s scimetar;
Tambourgi! thy ’larum
gives promise of war;
Yo mountains! that see
us descend to the shore,
Shall view us victors,
or view us no more.”
Byron
The heavy showers that
prevailed during the remainder of the day, completely stopped the progress of
the flames; though glimmering fires were observed during the night, on different
parts of the hill, wherever there was a collection of fuel to feed the element.
The next day the woods, for many miles, were black and smoking, and were stript
of every vestige of brush and dead wood; but the pines and hemlocks still
reared their heads proudly along the hills, and even the smaller trees of the
forest retained a feeble appearance of life and vegetation.
The many tongues of
rumour were busy in exaggerating the miraculous escape of Elizabeth, and a
report was generally credited, that Mohegan had actually perished in the
flames. This belief became confirmed, and was indeed rendered probable, when
the direful intelligence reached the village, that Jotham Riddel, the miner,
was found in his hole, nearly dead with suffocation,and burnt to such a degree
that no hopes were entertained of his life.
The public attention
became much alive to the events of the last few days, and just at this crisis,
the convicted counterfeiters took the hint from Natty, and, on the night
succeeding the fire, found means to cut through their log prison also, and to
escape unpunished. When this news begun to circulate through the village,
blended with the fate of Jotham, and the exaggerated and tortured reports of
the events on the hill, the popular opinion was freely expressed, as to the
propriety of seizing such of the fugitives as remained within reach. Men talked
of the cave, as a secret receptacle of guilt; and, as the rumour of ores and
metals found its way into the confused medley of conjectures, counterfeiting,
and every thing else that was wicked and dangerous to the peace of society,
suggested themselves to the busy fancies of the populace.
While the public mind
was in this feverish state, it was hinted that the wood had been set on fire by
Edwards and the Leather-stocking, and that, consequently, they alone were
responsible for the damages. This opinion soon gained ground, being most
circulated by those who, by their own heedlessness, had caused the evil; and
there was one irresistible burst of the common sentiment, that an attempt
should be made to punish the offenders. Richard was by no means deaf to this
appeal, and by noon he set about in earnest, to see the laws executed.
Several stout young men
were selected, and taken apart, with an appearance of secrecy, where they
received some important charge from the Sheriff, immediately under the eyes,
but far removed from the ears, of all in the village. Possessed with a
knowledge of their duty, these youths hurried into the hills, with a bustling
manner, as if the fate of the world depended on their diligence, and, at the
same time, with an air of mystery, as great as if they were engaged on secret
matters of the state.
At twelve precisely, a
drum beat the “long roll” before the “Bold Dragoon,” and Richard appeared,
accompanied by Captain Hollister, who was clad in his vestments as commander of
the “Templeton Light-Infantry,” when the former demanded of the latter the aid
of the posse comitatus, in enforcing the laws of the country. We have not room
to record the speeches of the two gentlemen on this occasion, but they are
preserved in the columns of the little blue newspaper, which is yet to be found
on file, and are said to be highly creditable to the legal formula of one of
the parties, and to the military precision of the other. Every thing had been
previously arranged, and as the red-coated drummer continued to roll out his
clattering notes, some five-and-twenty privates appeared in the ranks, and
arranged themselves in order of battle.
As this corps was
composed of volunteers, and was commanded by a man who had passed the first
five-and-thirty years of his life in camps and garrisons, it was the nonpareil
of military science in that country, and was confidently pronounced, by the
judicious part of the Templeton community, to be equal in skill and appearance
to any troops in the known world; in physical endowments they were, certainly,
much superior! To this assertion there were but three dissenting voices, and
one dissenting opinion. The opinion belonged to Marmaduke, who, however, saw no
necessity for its promulgation. Of the voices, one, and that a pretty loud one,
came from thespouse of the commander himself, who frequently reproached her
husband for condescending to lead such an irregular band of warriors, after he
had filled the honourable station of sergeant-major to a dashing corps of
Virginian cavalry through much of the recent war.
Another of these
sceptical sentiments was invariably expressed by Mr. Pump, whenever the company
paraded, generally in some such terms as these, which were uttered with that
sort of meekness that a native of the island of our forefathers is apt to
assume, when he condescends to praise the customs or characters of her truant
progeny--
“It’s mayhap that they
knows sum’mat about loading and firing, d’ye see; but as for working ship! why
a corporal’s guard of the Boadishey’s marines would back and fill on their
quarters in such a manner as to surround and captivate them all in half a
glass.” As there was no one to deny this assertion, the marines of the Boadicea
were held in a corresponding degree of estimation.
The third unbeliever
was Monsieur Le Quoi, who merely whispered to the sheriff, that the corps was
one of the finest he had ever seen, second only to the Mousquetaires of Le Bon
Louis! However, as Mrs. Hollister thought there was something like actual
service in the present appearances, and was, in consequence, too busily engaged
with certain preparations of her own, to make her comments; as Benjamin was
absent, and Monsieur Le Quoi too happy to find fault with any thing, the corps
escaped criticism and comparison altogether on this momentous day, when they
certainly had greater need of self-confidence, than on any other previous
occasion. Marmaduke was said to be again closeted with Mr. Van der School, and
no interruption was offered to the movements of the troops. At two o’clock
precisely the corpsshouldered arms, beginning on the right wing, next to the
veteran, and carrying the motion through to the left with great regularity.
When each musket was quietly fixed in its proper situation, the order was given
to wheel to the left, and march. As this was bringing raw troops, at once, to
face their enemy, it is not to be supposed that the manœuvre was executed with
their usual accuracy, but as the music struck up the inspiring air of
Yankee-doodle, and Richard, accompanied by Mr. Doolittle, preceded the troops
boldly down the street, Captain Hollister led on, with his head elevated to
forty-five degrees, with a little, low cocked hat, perched on its crown,
carrying a tremendous dragoon sabre at a poise, and trailing at his heels a
huge steel scabbard, that had war in its very clattering. There was a good deal
of difficulty in getting all the platoons (there were six) to look the same
way; but, by the time they reached the defile of the bridge, the troops were in
excellent order. In this manner they marched up the hill to the summit of the
mountain, no other alteration taking place in the disposition of the forces,
excepting that a mutual complaint was made by the sheriff and the magistrate,
of a failure in wind, which gradually brought these gentlemen to the rear. It
will be unnecessary to detail the minute movements that succeeded. We shall
briefly say, that the scouts came in and reported, that, so far from
retreating, as had been anticipated, the fugitives had evidently gained a
knowledge of the attack, and were fortifying for a desperate resistance. This
intelligence certainly made a material change, not only in the plans of the
leaders, but in the countenances of the soldiery also. The men looked at one
another with serious faces, and Hiram and Richard begun to consult together,
apart. At this juncture, they werejoined by Billy Kirby, who came along the
highway, with his axe under his arm, as much in advance of his team as Captain
Hollister had been of his troops in the ascent. The wood-chopper was amazed at
the military array, but the sheriff eagerly availed himself of this powerful
reinforcement, and commanded his assistance in putting the laws in force. Billy
held Mr. Jones in too much deference to object; and it was finally arranged
that he should be the bearer of a summons to the garrison to surrender, before
they proceeded to extremities. The troops now divided, one party being led by
the captain, over the Vision, and were brought in on the left of the cave,
while the remainder advanced upon its right, under the orders of the
lieutenant. Mr. Jones and Dr. Todd, for the surgeon was in attendance also,
appeared on the platform of rock, immediately over the heads of the garrison,
though out of their sight. Hiram thought this approaching too near, and he
therefore accompanied Kirby along the side of the hill, to within a safe
distance of the fortifications, where he took shelter behind a tree. Most of
the men discovered a wonderful accuracy of eye in bringing some object in range
between them and their enemy, and the only two of the besiegers, who were left
in plain sight of the besieged, were Captain Hollister on one side, and the
wood-chopper on the other. The veteran stood up boldly to the front, supporting
his heavy sword, in one undeviating position, with his eye fixed firmly on his
enemy, while the huge form of Billy was placed in that kind of quiet repose,
with either hand thrust into his bosom, bearing his axe under his right arm,
which permitted him, like his own oxen, to rest standing. So far, not a word
had been exchanged between the belligerents. The besieged had drawn together a
pile of black logs andbranches of trees, which they had formed into a
chevaux-de-frize, making a little circular abbatis, in front of the entrance to
the cave. As the ground was steep and slippery in every direction around the
place, and Benjamin appeared behind the works on one side, and Natty on the
other, the arrangement was by no means contemptible, especially as the front
was sufficiently guarded by the difficulty of the approach. By this time, Kirby
had received his orders, and he advanced coolly along the mountain, picking his
way with the same indifference as if he were pursuing his ordinary business.
When he was within a hundred feet of the works, the long and much dreaded rifle
of the Leather-stocking was seen issuing from the parapet, and his voice cried
aloud--
“Keep off! Billy Kirby,
keep off! I wish ye no harm; but if a man of ye all comes a step nigher, there’ll
be blood spilt a-twixt us. God forgive the one that draws it first; but so it
must be.”
“Come, old chap,” said
Billy, good-naturedly, “don’t be crabbed, but hear what a man has got to say. I’ve
no concarn in the business, only to see right ’twixt man and man; and I don’t
kear the valie of a beetle-ring which gets the better; but there’s Squire
Doolittle, out yonder behind the beech sapling, he has invited me to come in and
ask you to give up to the law--that’s all.”
“I see the varmint! I
see his clothes!” cried the indignant Natty; “and if he’ll only show so much
flesh as will bury a rifle bullet, thirty to the pound, I’ll make him feel me.
Go away, Billy, I bid ye; you know my aim, and I bear you no malice.”
“You over calkilate
your aim, Natty,” said the other, as he stepped behind a pine that stood near
him, “if you think to shoot a man througha tree with a three foot butt. I can
lay this tree-top right across you, in ten minutes, by any man’s watch, and in
less time, too; so be civil--I want no more than what’s right.”
There was a simple
seriousness in the countenance of Natty, that showed he was much in earnest;
but it was, also, evident that he was reluctant to shed human blood. He
answered the vaunt of the wood-chopper, by saying--
“I know you drop a tree
where you will, Billy Kirby; but if you show a hand, or an arm, in doing it,
there’ll be bones to be set, and blood to stanch, I tell you. If it’s only to
get into the cave that ye want, wait till a two hour’s sun, and you may enter
it in welcome; but come in now you shall not. There’s one dead body, already,
lying on the cold rocks, and there’s another in which the life can hardly be
said to stay. If you will come in, there’ll be dead without as well as within.”
The wood-chopper stept
out fearlessly from his cover, and cried--
“That’s fair; and what’s
fair, is right. He wants you to stop till it’s two hours to sun-down; and I see
reason in the thing. A man can give up when he’s wrong, if you don’t crowd him
too hard; but you crowd a man, and he gets to be like a stubborn ox--the more
you beat, the worse he kicks.”
The sturdy notions of
independence maintained by Billy, neither suited the emergency, nor the impatience
of Mr. Jones, who was burning with a desire to examine the hidden mysteries of
the cave. He, therefore, interrupted this amicable dialogue with his own voice.
“I command you,
Nathaniel Bumppo, by my authority, to surrender your person to the law,” he cried.
“And I command you, gentlemen, toaid me in performing my duty. Benjamin
Penguillan, I arrest you, and order you to follow me to the gaol of the county,
by virtue of this warrant.”
“I’d follow ye, Squire
Dickens,” said Benjamin, removing the pipe from his mouth, (for during the
whole scene the ex-major domo had been very composedly smoking,) “Ay! I’d sail
in your wake, sir, to the end of the world, if-so-be that there was such a
place, which there isn’t, seeing that it’s round. Now, mayhap, Master Hollister,
having lived all your life on shore, you is’nt acquainted that the world, d’ye-see--”
“Surrender!”
interrupted the veteran, in a voice that startled his hearers, and which
actually caused his own forces to recoil several paces; “Surrender, Benjamin
Penguillum, or expect no quarter.”
“Damn your quarter,”
said Benjamin, rising from the log on which he was seated, and taking a squint
along the barrel of the swivel, which had been brought on the hill, during the
night, and now formed the means of defence on his side of the works. “Look you,
Master, or Captain, thof I questions if ye know the name of a rope, except the
one that’s to hang ye, there’s no need of singing out, just as if ye was
hailing a deaf man on a top-gallant-yard. Mayhap you think you’ve got my true
name in your sheep-skin; but what British sailor finds it worth while to sail
in these seas, without a sham on his stern, in case of need, d’ye-see. If you
call me Penguillan, you calls me by the name of the man on whose land, d’ye-see,
I hove into daylight; and he was a gentleman; and that’s more than my worst
enemy will say of any of the family of Benjamin Stubbs.”
“Send the warrant round
to me, and I’ll put in an alias,” cried Hiram, from behind his cover.
“Put in a jackass, and
you’ll put in yourself, Mister Doo-but-little,” shouted Benjamin, who kept
squinting along his little iron tube, with great steadiness.
“I give you but one
moment to yield in,” cried Richard. “Benjamin! Benjamin! This is not the
gratitude I expected from you.”
“I tell you, Richard
Jones,” said Natty, who dreaded the sheriff’s influence over his comrade; “though
the canister the gal brought, be lost, there’s powder enough in the cave to
lift the rock you stand on. I’ll take off my roof, if you don’t hold your peace.”
“I think it beneath the
dignity of my office to parley further with the prisoners,” the sheriff
observed to his companion, while they both retired with a precipitancy that
Captain Hollister mistook for the signal to advance.
“Charge baggonet!” shouted
the veteran; “march!”
Although this signal
was certainly expected, it took the assailed a little by surprise, and the
veteran approached the works, crying, “courage, my brave lads! give them no
quarter unless they surrender,” and struck a furious blow upwards with his
sabre that would have divided the steward in moieties, by subjecting him to the
process of decapitation, but for the fortunate interference of the muzzle of
the swivel. As it was, the gun was dismounted at the critical moment that Benjamin
was applying his pipe to the priming, and in consequence, some five or six
dozen of rifle bullets were projected into the air, in, nearly, a perpendicular
line. Philosophy teaches us that the atmosphere will not retain lead; and two
pounds of the metal moulded into bullets, of thirty to the pound,after
describing an ellipsis in their journey, returned to the earth, rattling among
the branches of the trees directly over the heads of the troops stationed in
the rear of their captain. Much of the success of an attack made by irregular
soldiers, depends on which way they are first got in motion. In the present
instance, it was retrograde, and in less than a minute after the loud bellowing
report of the swivel among the rocks and caverns, the whole weight of the
attack, from the left, rested on the prowess of the single arm of the veteran.
Benjamin received a severe contusion from the recoil of his gun, which produced
a short stupor, during which period the exsteward was prostrate on the ground.
Capt. Hollister availed himself of this circumstance to scramble over the
breast-work and obtain a footing in the bastion--for such was the nature of the
fortress, as connected with the cave. The moment the veteran found himself
within the works of his enemy, he rushed to the edge of the fortification, and
waving his sabre over his head, shouted--
“Victory! come on, my
brave boys, the work’s our own!”
All this was perfectly
military, and was such an example as a gallant officer was in some measure
bound to exhibit to his men; but the outcry was the unlucky cause of turning
the tide of success. Natty, who had been keeping a vigilant eye on the
wood-chopper, and the enemy immediately before him, wheeled at this alarm, and
was appalled at beholding his comrade on the ground, and the veteran standing
on his own bulwark, giving forth the cry of victory! The muzzle of the long
rifle was turned instantly towards the captain. There was a moment when the
life of the old soldier was in great jeopardy; but theobject to shoot at was both
too large and too near for the Leather-stocking, who, instead of pulling his
trigger, applied the gun to the rear of his enemy, and by a powerful shove,
sent him outside of the works with much greater rapidity than he had entered
them. The spot on which Capt. Hollister alighted was directly in front, where,
as his feet touched the ground, so steep and slippery was the side of the
mountain, it seemed to recede from under them. His motion was wonderfully
swift, and so irregular, as utterly to confuse the faculties of the old
soldier. During its continuance, he supposed himself to be mounted and charging
through the ranks of his enemy. At every tree he made a blow, of course, as at
a foot-soldier; and just as he was making the cut “St. George” at a half-burnt
sapling, he landed in the highway, and, to his utter amazement, at the feet of
his own spouse. When Mrs. Hollister, who was toiling up the hill, followed by
at least twenty curious boys, leaning with one hand on the staff with which she
ordinarily walked, and bearing in the other an empty bag, witnessed this
exploit of her husband, indignation immediately got the better not only of her
religion, but of her philosophy.
“Why, Sargeant! is it
flying ye are?” she cried--“That I should live to see a husband of mine turn
his back to the inimy! and sich a one! Here have I been telling the b’ys as we
come along, all about the saige of Yorrektown, and how ye was hurted; and how
ye’d be acting the same ag’in the day; and I mate ye retrating jist as the
first gun is fired. Och! I may trow away the bag! for if there’s plunder ’twill
not be the wife of sich as yeerself that will be privileged to be getting the
same. They do say too, there’s a power of goold and silver in the place--the
Lord forgive me for setting my heart on sich worreldlythings; but what falls in
the battle, there’s Scripter for believing it the just property of the victor.”
“Retreating!” exclaimed
the amazed veteran; “where’s my horse? he has been shot under me--I--”
“Is the man mad!”
interrupted his wife-- “divil the horse do ye own, sargeant, and yee’re nothing
but a shabby captain of malaishy. Och! if the ra’al captain was here, ’tis the
other way ye’d be riding, dear, or you would not follow your lader!”
While this worthy
couple were thus discussing events, the battle began to rage more violently
than ever, above them. When the Leather-stocking saw his enemy fairly under
head-way, as Benjamin would express it, he gave his attention again to the
right wing of the assailants. It would have been easy for Kirby, with his
powerful frame, to have seized the moment to scale the bastion, and with his
great strength, to have sent both its defenders in pursuit of the veteran; but
hostility appeared to be the passion that the wood-chopper indulged the least
in, at that moment, for, in a voice that was heard even by the retreating left
wing, he shouted,
“Hurrah! well done,
captain! keep it up! how he handles his bush hook! he makes nothing of a
sapling!” and such other encouraging exclamations to the flying veteran, until,
overcome by his mirth, the good-natured fellow seated himself on the ground,
kicking the earth with delight, and giving vent to peal after peal of laughter.
Natty stood all this
time in a menacing attitude, with his rifle pointed over his breast-work,
watching with a quick and cautious eye the least movement of the assailants.
The outcry unfortunately tempted the ungovernable curiosity of Hiram to take a
peep from behind his cover, at the stateof the battle. Though this evolution
was performed with great caution, in protecting his front, he left, like many a
better commander, his rear exposed to the attacks of his enemy. Mr. Doolittle
belonged physically to a class of his countrymen, to whom nature has denied, in
their formation, the use of curved lines. Every thing about him was either
straight or angular. But his tailor was a woman who worked like a regimental
contractor, by a set of rules that gave the same configuration to the whole
human species. Consequently, when Mr. Doolittle leaned forward in the manner
described, a loose drapery appeared behind the tree, at which the rifle of
Natty was pointed with the quickness of lightning. A less experienced man would
have aimed at the flowing robe, which hung like a festoon half way to the earth;
but the Leather-stocking knew both the man and his female tailor better, and
when the smart report of the rifle was heard, Kirby, who watched the whole manœuvre
in breathless expectation, saw the bark fly from the beech, and the cloth, at
some distance above the loose folds, wave at the same instant. No battery was
ever unmasked with more promptitude than Hiram advanced, from behind the tree,
at this summons.
He made two or three
steps, with great precision, to the front, and, placing one hand on the afflicted
part, stretched forth the other, with a menacing air, towards Natty, and cried
aloud--
“Gawl darn ye! this
shan’t be settled so easy; I’ll follow it up from the ‘common pleas’ to the ‘court
of errors.’ ”
Such a shocking
imprecation, from the mouth of so orderly a man as Squire Doolittle, with the
fearless manner in which he exposed himself, together with, perhaps, the
knowledge that Natty’srifle was unloaded, encouraged the troops in the rear,
who gave a loud shout, and fired a volley into the tree-tops, after the
contents of the swivel. Animated by their own noise, the men now rushed on in
earnest, and Billy Kirby, who thought the joke, good as it was, had gone far
enough, was in the act of scaling the works, when Judge Temple appeared on the
opposite side, exclaiming--
“Silence and peace! why
do I see murder and bloodshed attempted! is not the law sufficient to protect
itself, that armed bands must be gathered, as in rebellion and war, to see
justice performed!”
“’Tis the posse
comitatus,” shouted the Sheriff, from a distant rock, “who”--
“Say rather a posse of
demons. I command the peace.”--
“Hold! shed not blood!”
cried a voice from the top of the Vision--“Hold! for the sake of Heaven, fire
no more! all shall be yielded! you shall enter the cave!”
Amazement produced the
desired effect. Natty, who had reloaded his piece, quietly seated himself on
the logs, and rested his head on his hand, while the “Light Infantry” ceased
their military movements, and waited the issue in mute suspense.
In less than a minute
Edwards came rushing down the hill, followed by Major Hartmann with a velocity
that was surprising for his years. They reached the terrace in an instant, from
which the youth led the way, by the hollow in the rock, to the mouth of the
cave, into which they both entered; leaving all without silent and gazing after
them with astonishment.
“I am dumb.” Were you the Doctor,
and I knew you not!”
Shakspeare
During the five or six
minutes that elapsed before the youth and Major re-appeared, Judge Temple and
the Sheriff, together with most of the volunteers, ascended to the terrace,
where the latter begun to express their conjectures of the result, and to
recount their individual services in the conflict. But the sight of the peace-makers,
ascending the ravine, shut every mouth.
On a rude chair,
covered with undressed deer-skins, they supported a human being, whom they
seated carefully and respectfully in the midst of the assembly. His head was
covered by long, smooth locks, of the colour of snow. His dress, which was
studiously neat and clean, was composed of such fabrics as none but the
wealthiest classes wear, but was threadbare and patched; and on his feet were
placed a pair of moccasins, ornamented in the best manner of Indian ingenuity.
The outlines of his face were grave and dignified, though his vacant eye, which
opened and turned slowly to the faces of those around him in unmeaning looks,
too surely announcedthat the period had arrived, when age brings the mental
imbecility of childhood.
Natty had followed the
supporters of this unexpected object to the top of the cave, and took his
station at a little distance behind him, leaning on his rifle, in the midst of
his pursuers, with a fearlessness which showed that heavier interests than
those which affected himself were to be decided. Major Hartmann placed himself
beside the aged man, uncovered, with his whole soul beaming through those eyes
which so commonly danced with frolic and humour. Edwards rested with one hand
familiarly, but affectionately, on the chair, though his heart was swelling
with emotions that denied him utterance.
All eyes were gazing
intently; but each tongue continued mute. At length the decrepid stranger,
turning his vacant looks from face to face, made a feeble attempt to rise,
while a faint smile crossed his wasted face, like an habitual effort at
courtesy, as he said, in a hollow, tremulous voice--
“Be pleased to be
seated, gentlemen. The council will open immediately. Each one who loves a good
and virtuous king, will wish to see these colonies continue loyal. Be seated--I
pray you, be seated, gentlemen. The troops shall halt for the night.”
“This is the wandering
of insanity!” said Marmaduke; “who will explain this scene?”
“No, sir,” said
Edwards, firmly, “’tis only the decay of nature; who is answerable for its
pitiful condition, remains to be shown.”
“Will the gentlemen
dine with us, my son?” said the old stranger, turning to a voice that he both
knew and loved. “Order a repast suitable for his Majesty’s officers. You know
we have the best of game always at our command.”
“Who is this man?”
asked Marmaduke, in ahurried voice, in which the dawnings of conjecture united
with interest to put the question.
“This man!” returned
Edwards, calmly, his voice, however, gradually rising as he proceeded; “this
man, sir, whom you behold hid in caverns, and deprived of every thing that can
make life desirable, was once the companion and counsellor of those who ruled
your country. This man, whom you see, helpless and feeble, was once a warrior,
so brave and fearless, that even the intrepid natives gave him the name of the
Fire-eater. This man, whom you now see destitute of even the ordinary comfort
of a cabin in which to shelter his head, was once the owner of great riches;
and, Judge Temple, he was the rightful proprietor of this very soil on which we
stand. This man was the father of”--
“This, then,” cried
Marmaduke, with powerful emotion, “this, then, is the lost Major Effingham!”
“Emphatically so,” said
the youth, fixing a piercing eye on the other.
“And you! and you!”
continued the Judge, articulating with difficulty.
“I am his grandson.”
A minute passed in
profound silence. All eyes were fixed on the speakers, and even the old German
appeared to wait the issue in deep anxiety. But the moment of agitation soon
passed. Marmaduke raised his head from his bosom, where it had sunk, not in
shame, but in devout mental thanksgivings, and, as large tears fell over his
fine, manly face, he grasped the hand of the youth warmly, and said--
“Oliver, I forgive all
thy harshness--all thy suspicions. I now see it all. I forgive thee every
thing, but suffering this aged man to dwell insuch a place, when not only my
habitation, but my fortune, were at his and thy command.”
“He’s true as ter
steel!” shouted Major Hartmann; “titn’t I tell’t you, lat, dat Marmatuke Temple
vast a frient dat woult never fail in ter dime as of neet!”
“It is true, Judge
Temple, that my opinions of your conduct have been staggered by what this
worthy gentleman has told me. When I found it impossible to convey my
grandfather back whence the enduring love of this old man brought him, without
detection and exposure, I went to the Mohawk in quest of one of his former
comrades, in whose justice I had dependence. He is your friend, Judge Temple,
but if what he says be true, both my father and myself may have judged you
harshly.”
“You name your father!”
said Marmaduke, tenderly--“Was he, indeed, lost in the packet?”
“He was. He had left
me, after several years of fruitless application and comparative poverty, in
Nova-Scotia, to obtain the compensation for his losses, which the British
commissioners had at length awarded. After spending a year in England, he was
returning to Halifax, on his way to a government, to which he had been
appointed, in the West-Indies, intending to go to the place where my
grandfather had sojourned during and since the war, and take him with us.”
“But, thou!” said
Marmaduke, with powerful interest; “I had thought that thou hadst perished with
him.”
A flush passed over the
cheeks of the young man, who gazed about him at the wondering faces of the
volunteers, and continued silent. Marmaduke turned to the veteran captain, who
just then rejoined his command, and said--
“March thy soldiers
back again, and dismissthem; the zeal of the sheriff has much mistaken his
duty. Dr. Todd, I will thank you to attend to the injury which Hiram Doolittle
has received in this untoward affair. Richard, you will oblige me by sending up
the carriage to the top of the hill. Benjamin, return to your duty in my
family.”
Unwelcome as these
orders were to most of the auditors, the suspicion that they had somewhat
exceeded the wholesome restraints of the law, and the habitual respect with
which all the commands of the Judge were received, induced a prompt compliance.
When they were gone,
and the rock was left to the parties most interested in an explanation,
Marmaduke, pointing to the aged Major Effingham, said to his grandson--
“Had we not better
remove thy parent from this open place, until my carriage can arrive?”
“Pardon me, sir, the
air does him good, and he has taken it whenever there was no dread of a
discovery. I know not how to act, Judge Temple; ought I, can I, suffer Major
Effingham to become an inmate of your family?”
“Thou shalt be thyself
the judge,” said Marmaduke. “Thy father was my early friend. He intrusted his
fortune to my care. When we separated, he had such confidence in me, that he
wished no security, no evidence of the trust, even had there been time or
convenience for exacting it.-- This thou hast heard?”
“Most truly, sir,” said
Edwards, or rather Effingham, as we must now call him, with a bitter smile.
“We divided in
politics. If the cause of this country was successful, the trust was sacred
with me, for none knew of thy father’s interest. If the crown still held its
sway, it would be easyto restore the property of so loyal a subject as Col.
Effingham.--Is not this plain?”
“The premises are good,
sir,” continued the youth, with the same incredulous look as before.
“Listen--listen, poy,”
said the German. “Dere is not a hair as of ter rogue in ter het of ter Tchooge.”
“We all know the issue
of the struggle,” continued Marmaduke, disregarding both; “Thy grandfather was
left in Connecticut, regularly supplied by thy father with the means of such a
subsistence as suited his wants. This I well knew, though I never had
intercourse with him, even in our happiest days. Thy father retired with the
troops to prosecute his claims on England. At all events, his losses must be
great, for his real estates were sold, and I became the lawful purchaser. It
was not unnatural to wish that he might have no bar to his just recovery?”
“There was none, but
the difficulty of providing for so many claimants.”
“But there would have
been one, and an insuperable one, had I announced to the world that I held
these estates, multiplied, by the times and my industry, a hundred fold in
value, only as his trustee. Thou knowest that I supplied him with considerable
sums, immediately after the war.”
“You did, until”--
“My letters were
returned unopened. Thy father had much of thy own spirit, Oliver; he was
sometimes hasty and rash.” The Judge continued, in a self-condemning manner--“Perhaps
my fault lies the other way; I may possibly look too far ahead, and calculate
too deeply. It certainly was a severe trial to allow the man, whom I most
loved, to think ill of me for seven years, in order that he might honestly
apply for his just remunerations. But had he opened my last letters, thou
wouldst have learnt the whole truth. Those I sent him to England, by what my
agent writes me, he did read. He died, Oliver, knowing all. He died my friend,
and I thought thou hadst died with him.”
“Our poverty would not
permit us to pay for two passages,” said the youth, with the extraordinary
emotion with which he ever alluded to the degraded state of his family; “I was
left in the Province to wait for his return, and when the sad news of his loss
reached me, I was nearly pennyless.”
“And what didst thou,
boy?” asked Marmaduke, in a faltering voice.
“I took my passage here
in search of my grandfather; for I well knew that his resources were gone, with
the half-pay of my father. On reaching his abode, I learnt that he had left it
in secret; though the reluctant hireling, who deserted him in his poverty,
owned to my urgent entreaties, that he believed he had been carried away by an
old man, who had once been his servant. I knew at once it was Natty, for my
father often”--
“Was Natty a servant to
thy grandfather?” exclaimed the Judge.
“Of that too were you
ignorant!” said the youth, in evident surprise.
“How should I know it?
I never met the Major, nor was the name of Bumppo ever mentioned to me. I knew
him only as a man of the woods, and one who lived by hunting. Such men are too
common to excite surprise.”
“He was reared in the
family of my grandfather; served him for many years during their campaigns at
the west, where he became attached to the woods; and he was left here as a kind
of locum tenens on the lands that old Mohegan (whose life my grandfather once
saved) induced the Delawares to grant to him, when they admitted him as an
honorary member of their tribe.”
“This, then, is thy
Indian blood?”
“I have no other,” said
Edwards, smiling;-- “Major Effingham was adopted as the son of Mohegan, who at
that time was the greatest man in his nation; and my father, who visited those
people when a boy, received the name of the Eagle from them, on account of the
shape of his face, as I understand. They have extended his title to me. I have
no other Indian blood; though I have seen the hour, Judge Temple, when I could
wish that such had been my lineage and education.”
“Proceed with thy tale,”
said Marmaduke.
“I have but little more
to say, sir. I followed to the lake where I had so often been told that Natty
dwelt, and found him maintaining his old master in secret; for even he could
not bear to exhibit to the world, in his poverty and dotage, a man whom a whole
people once looked up to with respect.”
“And what did you?”
“What did I! I spent my
last money in purchasing a rifle, clad myself in a coarse garb, and learned to
be a hunter by the side of Leather-stocking. You know the rest, Judge Temple.”
“Ant vere vast olt
Fritz Hartmann!” said the German, reproachfully; “didst never hear a name as of
olt Fritz Hartmann from ter mout of ter fader, lat?”
“I may have been
mistaken, gentlemen,” returned the youth; “but I had pride, and could not
submit to such an exposure as this day even has reluctantly brought to light. I
had plans that might have been visionary; but, should my parentsurvive till
autumn, I purposed taking him with me to the city, where we have distant
relatives, who must have learnt to forget the Tory by this time. He decays
rapidly,” he continued, mournfully, “and must soon lie by the side of old
Mohegan.”
The air being pure, and
the day fine, the party continued conversing on the rock, until the wheels of
Judge Temple’s carriage were heard clattering up the side of the mountain, during
which time the conversation was maintained with deep interest, each moment
clearing up some doubtful action, and lessening the antipathy of the youth to
Marmaduke. He no longer objected to the removal of his grandfather, who
displayed a childish pleasure when he found himself seated once more in a
carriage. When placed in the ample hall of the Mansion-house, the eyes of the
aged veteran turned slowly to the objects in the apartment, and a look like the
dawn of intellect would, for moments, flit across his features, when he
invariably offered some useless courtesies to those near him, wandering,
painfully, in his subjects. The exercise and the change soon produced an
exhaustion, that caused them to remove him to his bed, where he lay for hours,
evidently sensible of the change in his comforts, and exhibiting that
mortifying picture of human nature, which too plainly shows that the
propensities of the animal continue, even after the nobler part of the creature
appears to have vanished.
Until his parent was
placed comfortably in bed, with Natty seated at his side, Effingham did not
quit him. He then obeyed a summons to the library of the Judge, where he found
the latter, with Major Hartmann, waiting for him.
“Read this paper,
Oliver,” said Marmaduke to him, as he entered, “and thou wilt find that, sofar
from intending thy family wrong during life, it has been my care to provide
that justice should be done at even a later day.”
The youth took the
paper, which his first glance told him was the will of the Judge. Hurried and
agitated as he was, he discovered that the date corresponded with the time of
the unusual depression of Marmaduke. As he proceeded, his eyes began to
moisten, and the hand which held the instrument shook violently.
The will commenced with
the usual forms, spun out by the ingenuity of Mr. Van der School; but after
this subject was fairly exhausted, the pen of Marmaduke became plainly visible.
In clear, distinct, manly, and even eloquent language, he recounted his
obligations to Colonel Effingham, the nature of their connexion, and the
circumstances in which they separated. He then proceeded to relate the motives
for his long silence, mentioning, however, large sums that he had forwarded to
his friend, which had been returned, with the letters unopened. After this, he
spoke of his search for the grandfather, who had unaccountably disappeared, and
his fears that the direct heir of the trust was buried in the ocean with his
father.
After, in short,
recounting in a clear narrative, the events which our readers must now be able
to connect, he proceeded to make a fair and exact statement of the sums left in
his care by Col. Effingham. A devise of his whole estate to certain responsible
trustees followed; to hold the same for the benefit, in equal moieties, of his
daughter, on one part, and of Oliver Effingham, formerly a major in the army of
Great Britain, and of his son Edward Effingham, and of his son Edward Oliver
Effingham, or to the survivor of them, and the descendants of such survivor,
for ever, on the other part. The trust was to endure until1810, when, if no
person appeared, or could be found, after sufficient notice, to claim the
moiety so devised, then a certain sum, calculating the principal and interest
of his debt to Col. Effingham, was to be paid to the heirs at law of the
Effingham family, and the bulk of his estate was to be conveyed in fee to his
daughter, or her heirs.
The tears fell from the
eyes of the young man, as he read this undeniable testimony of the good faith
of Marmaduke, and his bewildered gaze was still fastened on the paper, when a
sweet voice, that thrilled on every nerve, spoke, near him, saying,
“Do you yet doubt us,
Oliver?”
“I have never doubted
you!” cried the youth, recovering his recollection and his voice, as he sprung
to seize the hand of Elizabeth; “no, not one moment has my faith in you
wavered.”
“And my father--”
“God bless him!”
“I thank thee, my son,”
said the Judge, exchanging a warm pressure of the hand with the youth; “but we
have both erred; thou hast been too hasty, and I have been too slow. One half
of my estates shall be thine as soon as they can be conveyed to thee; and if
what my suspicions tell me, be true, I suppose the other must follow speedily.”
He took the hand which he held, and united it with that of his daughter, and
motioned towards the door to the Major.
“I telt you vat, gal!”
said the old German, good humouredly; “if I vast, ast I vast, ven I servit mit
his grantfader on ter lakes, ter lazy tog shouln’t vin ter prize as for nottin.”
“Come, come, old Fritz,”
cried the Judge; “you are seventy, not seventeen; Richard waits for you with a
bowl of egg-nog, in the hall.”
“Richart! ter duyvel!”
exclaimed the other,hastening out of the room; “he makes ter nog ast for ter
horse. I vilt show ter sheriff mit my own hants! Ter duyvel! I pelieve he
sweetens mit ter yankee melasses!”
Marmaduke smiled and
nodded affectionately at the young couple, and closed the door after them. If
any of our readers expect that we are going to open it again, for their
gratification, they will soon find themselves in a mistake.
The tête-à-tête
continued for a very unreasonable time; how long we shall not say; but it was
ended by six o’clock in the evening, for at that hour Monsieur Le Quoi made his
appearance, agreeably to the appointment of the preceding day, and claimed the
ear of Miss Temple. He was admitted; when he made an offer of his hand, with
much suavity, together with his “amis beeg and leet’, his père, his mère, and
his sucre-boosh.” Elizabeth might, possibly, have previously entered into some
embarrassing and binding engagements with Oliver, for she declined the tender
of all, in terms as polite, though perhaps a little more decided, than those in
which they were made.
The Frenchman soon
joined the German and the Sheriff in the hall, who compelled him to take a seat
with them at the table, where, by the aid of punch, wine, and egg-nog, they
soon extracted from the complaisant Mr. Le Quoi the nature of his visit. It was
evident that he had made the offer, as a duty which a well-bred man owed to a
lady in such a retired place, before he left the country, and that his feelings
were but very little, if at all, interested in the matter. After a few
potations, the waggish pair persuaded the exhilarated Frenchman that there was
an inexcusable partiality in offering to one lady, and not extending a similar
courtesy to another. Consequently,about nine, Monsieur Le Quoi sallied forth to
the Rectory, on a similar mission to Miss Grant, which proved as successful as
his first effort in love.
When he returned to the
Mansion-house, at ten, Richard and the Major were still seated at the table.
They attempted to persuade the Gaul that he should next try Remarkable
Pettibone. But, though he was stimulated by mental excitement and wine, two
hours of abstruse logic were thrown away on this subject; for he declined their
advice, with a pertinacity truly astonishing in so polite a man.
When Benjamin lighted
Monsieur Le Quoi from the door, he said, at parting--
“If-so-be, Mounsheer,
you’d run alongside Mistress Pretty-bones, as the Squire Dickens was bidding
ye, ’tis my notion you’d have been grappled; in which case, d’ye see, you
mought have been troubled in swinging clear again in a handsome manner; for
thof Miss ’Lizzy and the parson’s young’un be tidy little vessels, that shoot
by a body on a wind, Mistress Remarkable is sum’mat of a galliot fashion; when
you once takes ’em in tow, they doesn’t like to be cast off again.”
“Yes, sweep ye on!--We
will not leave,
For them who triumph,
those who grieve.
With that armada gay Be
laughter loud, and jocund shout--
--But with that skiff Abides the minstrel tale.”
Lord of the Isles.
The events of our tale
carry us through the summer; and, after making nearly the circle of the year,
we must conclude our labours in the delightful month of October. Many important
incidents had, however, occurred in the intervening period; a few of which it
may be necessary to recount.
The two principal were,
the marriage of Oliver and Elizabeth, and the death of Major Effingham. They
both took place early in September; and the former preceded the latter only by
a few days. The old man passed away like the last glimmering of a taper; and
though his death cast a melancholy over the family, grief could not follow such
an end.
One of the chief
concerns of Marmaduke was to reconcile the even conduct of a magistrate, with
the course that his feelings dictated to the criminals. The day succeeding the
discovery at the cave, however, Natty and Benjamin re-entered the gaol
peaceably, where they continued, well fed andcomfortable, until the return of
an express to Albany, who brought the Governor’s pardon to the
Leather-stocking. In the mean time, proper means were employed to satisfy Hiram
for the assaults on his person; and on the same day, the two comrades issued
together into society again, with their characters not at all affected by their
imprisonment.
Mr. Doolittle began to
discover that neither his architecture, nor his law, was quite suitable to the
growing wealth and intelligence of the settlement; and, after exacting the last
cent that was attainable in his compromises, to use the language of the
country, he “pulled up stakes,” and proceeded further west, scattering his
professional science and legal learning through the land; vestiges of both of
which are to be discovered there even to the present hour.
Poor Jotham, whose life
paid the forfeiture of his folly, acknowledged before he died, that his reasons
for believing in a mine, were extracted from the lips of a sybil, who, by
looking in a magic glass, was enabled to discover the hidden treasures of the
earth. Such superstition was frequent in the new settlements; and after the
first surprise was over, the better part of the community forgot the subject.
But at the same time that it removed from the breast of Richard a lingering
suspicion of the acts of the three hunters, it conveyed a mortifying lesson to
him, which brought many quiet hours, in future, to his cousin Marmaduke. It may
be remembered that the Sheriff confidently pronounced this to be no ‘visionary’
scheme, and that word was enough to shut his lips, at any time within the next
ten years.
Monsieur Le Quoi, who
has been introduced to our readers, because no picture of that country would be
faithful without such a Gaul, found theisland of Martinique, and his “sucre-boosh,”
in possession of the English; but Marmaduke, and his family, were much
gratified in soon hearing that he had returned to his bureau, in Paris; where
he afterwards issued yearly bulletins of his happiness, and of his gratitude to
his friends in America.
With this brief
explanation we must return to our narrative. Let the American reader imagine
one of our mildest October mornings, when the sun seems a ball of silvery fire,
and the elasticity of the air is felt while it is inhaled; imparting vigour and
life to the whole system. The weather, neither too warm, nor too cold, but of
that happy temperature which stirs the blood, without bringing the lassitude of
spring.
It was on such a
morning, about the middle of the month, that Oliver entered the hall, where
Elizabeth was issuing her usual orders for the day, and requested her to join
him in a short excursion to the lake-side. The tender melancholy in the manner
of her husband, caught the attention of Elizabeth, who instantly abandoned her
concerns, threw a light shawl across her shoulders, and concealing her raven
hair under her gypsey, she took his arm, and submitted herself, without a
question, to his guidance. They crossed the bridge, and had turned from the
highway, along the margin of the lake, before a word was exchanged. Elizabeth
well knew, by the direction they took, the object of their walk, and respected
the feelings of her companion too much to indulge in untimely conversation. But
when they gained the open fields, and her eye roamed over the placid lake,
covered with wild fowl, already journeying from the great northern waters, to
seek a warmer sun, but lingering to play in the limpid sheet of the Otsego, and
to the sides of themountain, which were gay with the thousand dies of autumn,
as if to grace their bridal, the swelling heart of the young wife burst out in
speech.
“This is not a time for
silence, Oliver!” she said, clinging more fondly to his arm; “every thing in
nature seems to speak the praises of the Creator; why should we, who have so
much to be grateful for, be silent.”
“Speak on,” said her
husband, smiling; “I love the sounds of your voice. You must anticipate our
errand hither; I have told you my plans, how do you like them?”
“I must first see them,”
returned his wife. “But I have had my plans, too; it is time I should begin to
divulge them.”
“You! It is something
for the comfort of my old friend Natty, I know.”
“Certainly of Natty;
but we have other friends besides the Leather-stocking, to serve. Do you forget
Louisa, and her father?”
“No, surely; have I not
given one of the best farms in the county to the good divine. As for Louisa, I
should wish you to keep her always near us.”
“You do,” said
Elizabeth, slightly compressing her lips; “but poor Louise may have other views
for herself; she may wish to follow my example, and marry.”
“I don’t think it,”
said Effingham, musing a moment; “I really don’t know any one hereabouts good
enough for her.”
“Perhaps not here; but
there are other places besides Templeton, and other churches besides ‘New St.
Paul’s.’ ”
“Churches, Elizabeth!
you would not wish to lose Mr. Grant, surely! though simple, he is anexcellent
man. I shall never find another who has half the veneration for my orthodoxy.
You would humble me from a saint to a very common sinner.”
“It must be done, sir,”
returned the lady, with a half-concealed smile, “though it degrades you from an
angel to a man.”
“But you forget the
farm.”
“He can lease it, as
others do. Besides, would you have a clergyman toil in the fields!”
“Where can he go? you
forget Louisa.”
“No, I do not forget
Louisa,” said Elizabeth, again compressing her beautiful lips. “You know,
Effingham, that my father has told you that I ruled him, and that I should rule
you. I am now about to exert my power.”
“Any thing, any thing,
dear Elizabeth, but not at the expense of us all; not at the expense of your
friend.”
“How do you know, sir,
that it will be so much at the expense of my friend?” said the lady, fixing her
eyes with a searching look on his countenance, where they met only the
unsuspecting expression of manly regret.
“How do I know it! why,
it is natural that she should regret us.”
“It is our duty to
struggle with our natural feelings,” returned the lady; “and there is but
little cause to fear that such a spirit as Louisa’s will not effect it.”
“But what is your plan?”
“Listen, and you shall
know. My father has procured a call for Mr. Grant to one of the towns on the
Hudson, where he can live more at his ease than in journeying through these
woods; where he can spend the evening of his life in comfort and quiet; and
where his daughter may meet with such society, and form such a connexion, asmay
be proper for one of her years and character.”
“Why, Bess! you amaze
me! I did not think you had been such a manager!”
“Oh! I manage more
deeply than you imagine, sir,” said the wife, archly smiling, again; “but it is
my will, and it is your duty to submit, --for a time at least.”
Effingham laughed; but
as they approached the end of their walk, the subject was changed by common
consent.
The place at which they
arrived was the little spot of level ground where the cabin of the
Leather-stocking had so long stood. Elizabeth found it entirely cleared of
rubbish, and beautifully laid down in turf, by the removal of sods, which, in
common with the surrounding country, had grown gay, under the influence of
profuse showers, as if a second spring had passed over the land. This little
place was surrounded by a circle of mason-work, and they entered by a small
gate, near which, to the surprise of both, the rifle of Natty was leaning
against the wall. Hector and the slut reposed on the grass by its side, as if
conscious that, however altered, they were lying on ground, and were surrounded
by objects, with which they were familiar. The hunter himself was stretched on
the earth, before a head-stone of white marble, pushing aside with his fingers
the long grass that had already sprung up from the luxuriant soil around its
base, apparently to lay bare the inscription that was there engraven. By the
side of this stone, which was a simple slab at the head of a grave, stood a
rich monument, decorated with an urn, and ornamented tastefully with the
chisel.
Oliver and Elizabeth
approached the graves, with a light tread, unheard by the old hunter,whose
sunburnt face was working with his feelings, and whose eyes twinkled as if
something impeded their vision. After some little time, Natty raised himself
slowly from the ground, and said aloud--
“Well, well--I’m bold
to say it’s all right! There’s something that I suppose is reading; but I can’t
make any thing of it; though the pipe, and the tomahawk, and the moccasins, be
pretty well--pretty well, for a man that, I dares to say, never seed ’ither of
the things. Ah’s me! there they lie, side by side, happy enough! Who will there
be to put me in the ’arth, when my time comes!”
“When that unfortunate
hour arrives, Natty, friends shall not be wanting to perform the last offices
for you,” said Oliver, a little touched at the hunter’s soliloquy.
The old man turned,
without manifesting any surprise, for he had got the Indian habits in this
particular, and running his hand under the bottom of his nose, seemed to wipe
away his sorrow with the action.
“You’ve come out to see
the graves, children, have ye?” he said; “well, well, they’re wholesome sights
to young as well as old.”
“I hope they are fitted
to your liking,” said Effingham; “no one has a better right than yourself to be
consulted in the matter.”
“Why, seeing that I an’t
used to fine graves,” returned the old man, “it is but little matter consarning
my taste. Ye laid the Major’s head to the west, and Mohegan’s to the east, did
ye, lad?”
“At your request it was
done.”
“It’s so best,” said
the hunter; “they thought they had to journey different ways, children; though
there is One greater than all, who’ll bringthe just together ag’in at his own
time, and who’ll whiten the skin of a black-moor, and place him on a footing
with princes.”
“There is but little
reason to doubt that,” said Elizabeth, whose decided tones were changed to a
soft, melancholy voice; “I trust we shall all meet again, and be happy
together.”
“Shall we, child! shall
we!” exclaimed the hunter, with unusual fervour; “there’s comfort in that
thought too. But before I go, I should like to know what ’tis you tell these
people, that be flocking into the country like pigeons in the spring, of the
old Delaware, and of the bravest white man that ever trod the hills.”
Effingham and Elizabeth
were surprised at the manner of the Leather-stocking, which was unusually
impressive and solemn; but attributing it to the scene, the young man turned to
the monument, and read aloud--
“Sacred to the memory
of Oliver Effingham, Esquire, formerly a Major in his B. Majesty’s 60th Foot; a
soldier of tried valour; a subject of chivalric loyalty; and a man of honesty.
To these virtues, he added the graces of a christian. The morning of his life
was spent in honour, wealth, and power; but its evening was obscured by
poverty, neglect, and disease, which were alleviated only by the tender care of
his old, faithful, and upright friend and attendant, Nathaniel Bumppo. His
descendants rear this stone to the virtues of the master, and to the enduring
gratitude of the servant.”
The Leather-stocking
started at the sound of his own name, and a smile of joy illumined his wrinkled
features, as he said--
“And did ye say it,
lad? have you then got the old man’s name cut in the stone, by the side of
hismaster’s? God bless ye, children! ’twas a kind thought, and kindness goes to
the heart as life shortens.”
Elizabeth turned her
back to the speakers, but the pure cambric, that, contrasted to her dark eyes,
attested the feelings of the youthful bride. Effingham made a fruitless effort
to speak before he succeeded in saying--
“It is there cut in
plain marble; but it should have been written in letters of gold!”
“Show me the name, boy,”
said Natty, with simple eagerness; “let me see my own name placed in such
honour. ’Tis a gin’rous gift to a man who leaves none of his name and family
behind him in a country, where he has tarried so long.”
Effingham guided his
finger to the spot, and Natty followed the windings of the letters to the end,
with deep interest, when he raised himself from the tomb, and said--
“I suppose it’s all
right, and it’s kindly thought, and kindly done! But what have ye put over the
Red-skin?”
“You shall hear”--
“This stone is raised
to the memory of an Indian Chief, of the Delaware tribe, who was known by the
several names of John Mohegan; Mohican”--
“Mo-hee-can, lad; they
call theirselves! ’heecan.”
“Mohican; and
Chingagook”--
“ ’Gach, boy;--’gach-gook;
Chingachgook; which, intarpreted, means Big-sarpent. The name should be set
down right, for an Indian’s name has always some meaning in it.”
“I will see it altered,”
said Edwards. “He was the last of his people who continued to inhabitthis
country; and it may be said of him, emphatically, that his faults were those of
an Indian, and his virtues those of a man.”
“You never said truer
word, Mr. Oliver; ah’s me! if you had know’d him as I did, in his prime, in
that very battle, where, the old gentleman who sleeps by his side, sav’d his
life, when them thieves, the Iriquois, had him at the stake, you’d have said
all that, and more too. I cut the thongs with this very hand, and gave him my
own tomahawk and knife, seeing that the rifle was always my fav’rite weepon. He
did lay about him like a man! I met him as I was coming home from the trail,
with eleven Mingo scalps on his pole. You needn’t shudder, Madam Effingham, for
they was all from shav’d heads and warriors. When I look about me, at these
hills, where I used-to could count, sometimes twenty smokes, curling over the
tree-tops, from the Delaware camps, it raises mournful thoughts, to think, that
not a Red-skin is left of them all; unless it may be a drunken vagabond from
the Oneida’s, or them Yankee Indians, who, they say, be moving up from the
sea-shore; and who belong to none of God’s creaters, to my seeming; being, as
it were, neither fish nor flesh; neither white-man, nor savage.-- Well! well!
the time has come at last, and I must go”--
“Go!” echoed Edwards, “whither
do you go?”
The Leather-stocking,
who had imbibed, unconsciously, many of the Indian qualities, though he always
thought of himself, as of a civilized being, compared with even the Delawares,
averted his face to conceal the workings of his muscles, as he stooped to lift
a large pack from behind the tomb, which he placed deliberately on his
shoulders.
“Go!” exclaimed
Elizabeth, approaching him, with a hurried step; “you should not venture so far
in the woods alone, at your time of life, Natty; indeed, it is imprudent. He is
bent, Effingham, on some distant hunting.”
“What Mrs. Effingham
tells you, is true, Leather-stocking,” said Edwards; “there can be no necessity
for your submitting to such hardships now! So throw aside your pack, and
confine your hunt to the mountains near us, if you will go.”
“Hardship! ’tis a
pleasure, children, and the greatest that is left me on this side the grave.”
“No, no; you shall not
go to such a distance,” cried Elizabeth, smiling, and laying her white hand on
his deer-skin pack; “I am right! I feel his camp-kettle and a canister of
powder! he must not be suffered to wander so far from us, Oliver; remember how
suddenly Mohegan dropp’d away.”
“I know’d the parting
would come hard, children; I know’d it would!” said Natty, “and so I got aside
to look at the graves by myself, and thought if I left ye the keep-sake which
the Major gave me, when we first parted in the woods, ye wouldn’t take it
unkind, but would know, that let the old man’s body go where it might, his
feelings staid behind him.”
“This means something
more than common!” exclaimed the youth; “where is it, Natty, that you purpose
going?”
The hunter drew nigh
him with a confident reasoning air, as if what he had to say would silence all
objections, and replied--
“Why, lad, they tell me,
that on the Big-lakes, there’s the best of hunting, and a great range, without
a white man on it, unless it may be one like myself. I’m weary of living in
clearings,and where the hammer is sounding in my ears from sun-rise to
sun-down. And though I’m much bound to ye both, children; I wouldn’t say it if
it wasn’t true; I crave to go into the woods ag’in, I do.”
“Woods!” echoed
Elizabeth, trembling with her feelings; “do you not call these endless forests
woods?”
“Ah! child, these be
nothing to a man that’s used to the wilderness. I have took but little comfort
sin’ your father come on with his settlers; but I wouldn’t go far, while the
life was in the body that lies under the sod there. But now he’s gone, and
Chingachgook is gone; and you be both young and happy. Yes! the big-house has
rung with merriment this month past! And now, I thought, was the time, to try
to get a little comfort, in the close of my days. Woods! indeed! I doesn’t call
these woods, Madam Effingham, where I lose myself, every day of my life, in the
clearings.”
“If there be any thing
wanting to your comfort,” cried Oliver, “name it Leather-stocking; and if it be
attainable, it is your’s.”
“You mean all for the
best; lad; I know it; and so does Madam, too; but your ways isn’t my ways. ’Tis
like the dead there, who thought, when the breath was in them, that one went
east and one went west, to find their heavens; but they’ll meet at last; and so
shall we, children.-- Yes, ind as you’ve begun, and we shall meet in the land
of the just, at last.”
“This is so new! so
unexpected!” said Elizabeth, in almost breathless excitement; “I had thought
you meant to live with us, and die with us, Natty.”
“Words are of no avail!”
exclaimed her husband; “the habits of forty years are not to bedispossessed by
the ties of a day. I know you too well to urge you further, Natty; unless you
will let me build you a hut, on one of the distant hills, where we can
sometimes see you, and know that you are comfortable.”
“Don’t fear the
Leather-stocking, children; God will see that his days be provided for, and his
ind happy. I know you mean all for the best, but our ways doesn’t agree. I love
the woods, and ve relish the face of man; I eat when hungry and drink when a-dry,
and ye keep stated hours an rules; nay, nay, you even over-feed the dogs, lad
from pure kindness; and hounds should be gaunty to run well. The meanest of God’s
creaters be made for some use, and I’m form’d for the wilderness; and, if ye
love me, let me go where my soul craves to be ag’in!”
The appeal was
decisive; not another word of entreaty, for him to remain, was then uttered;
but Elizabeth bent her head to her bosom and wept, while her husband dashed
away the tears from his eyes, and, with hands that almost refused to perform
their office, he produced his pocket-book, and extended a parcel of bank-notes
to the hunter.
“Take these,” he said, “at
least, take these; secure them about your person, and, in the hour of need,
they will do you good service.”
The old man took the
notes, and examined them with a curious eye, when he said--
“This, then, is some of
the new-fashioned money that they’ve been making at Albany, out of paper! It
can’t be worth much to they that hasn’t larning! No, no, lad--take back the
stuff; it will do me no sarvice. I took kear to get all the Frenchman’s powder,
afore he broke up, and they say lead grows where I’m going. It isn’t even fit
for wads, seeing that I use none but leather!--Madam Effingham, let an old man
kiss your hand, and wish God’s choicest blessings on you and your’n.”
“Once more let me
beseech you, stay!” cried Elizabeth. “Do not, Leather-stocking, leave me to
grieve for the man who has twice rescued me from death, and who has served
those I love so faithfully. For my sake, if not for your own, stay. I shall see
you, in those frightful dreams that still haunt my nights, dying in poverty and
age, by the side of those terrific beasts you slew. There will be no evil that
sickness, want, and solitude can inflict, that my fancy will not conjure as
your fate. Stay with us, old man; if not for your own sake, at least for ours.”
“Such thoughts and
bitter dreams, Madam Effingham,” returned the hunter, solemnly, “will never
haunt an innocent parson long. They’ll pass away with God’s pleasure. And if
the cat-a-mounts be yet brought to your eyes in sleep, ’tis not for my sake,
but to show you the power of him that led me there to save you. Trust in God,
Madam, and your honourable husband, and the thoughts for an old man like me can
never be long nor bitter. I pray that the Lord will keep you in mind--the Lord
that lives in clearings as well as in the wilderness--and bless you, and all
that belong to you, from this time, till the great day when the whites shall
meet the red-skins in judgment, and justice shall be the law, and not power.”
Elizabeth raised her
head, and offered her colourless cheek to his salute, when he lifted his cap,
and touched it respectfully. His hand was grasped with convulsive fervour by
the youth, who continued silent. The hunter prepared himself for his journey,
drawing his belt tighter, and wasting his moments in the little
reluctantmovements of a sorrowful departure. Once or twice he essayed to speak,
but a rising in his throat prevented it. At length he shouldered his rifle, and
cried, with a clear huntsman’s call, that echoed through the woods--
“He-e-e-re, he-e-e-re,
pups--away, dogs, away;--ye’ll be foot-sore afore ye see the ind of the
journey!”
The hounds leaped from
the earth at his cry, and, scenting around the graves and the silent pair, as
if conscious of their own destination, they followed humbly at the heels of
their master. A short pause succeeded, during which even the youth concealed
his face on his grandfather’s tomb. When the pride of manhood, however,
suppressed the feelings of nature, he turned to renew his entreaties, but saw
that the cemetery was occupied only by himself and his wife.
“He is gone!” cried
Effingham.
Elizabeth raised her
face, and saw the old hunter standing, looking back for a moment, on the verge
of the wood. As he caught their glances, he drew his hard hand hastily across
his eyes again, waved it on high for an adieu, and, uttering a forced cry to
his dogs, who were crouching at his feet, he entered the forest.
This was the last that
they ever saw of the Leather-stocking, whose rapid movements preceded the
pursuit which Judge Temple both ordered and conducted. He had gone far towards
the setting sun,--the foremost in that band of Pioneers, who are opening the way
for the march of our nation across the continent.
FINIS.