Title: The Pioneers; Or, The Sources of the Susquehanna
Author: Cooper, James Fenimore
Language: English
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THE PIONEERS

Or, The Sources of the Susquehanna

A Descriptive Tale


By J. Fenimore Cooper



INTRODUCTION


As this work professes, in its title-page, to be a descriptive tale,
they who will take the trouble to read it may be glad to know how much
of its contents is literal fact, and how much is intended to represent
a general picture. The author is very sensible that, had he confined
himself to the latter, always the most effective, as it is the most
valuable, mode of conveying knowledge of this nature, he would have made
a far better book. But in commencing to describe scenes, and perhaps he
may add characters, that were so familiar to his own youth, there was
a constant temptation to delineate that which he had known, rather than
that which he might have imagined. This rigid adhesion to truth, an
indispensable requisite in history and travels, destroys the charm of
fiction; for all that is necessary to be conveyed to the mind by
the latter had better be done by delineations of principles, and of
characters in their classes, than by a too fastidious attention to
originals.

New York having but one county of Otsego, and the Susquehanna but one
proper source, there can be no mistake as to the site of the tale. The
history of this district of country, so far as it is connected with
civilized men, is soon told.

Otsego, in common with most of the interior of the province of New
York, was included in the county of Albany previously to the war of the
separation. It then became, in a subsequent division of territory, a
part of Montgomery; and finally, having obtained a sufficient population
of its own, it was set apart as a county by itself shortly after the
peace of 1783. It lies among those low spurs of the Alleghanies which
cover the midland counties of New York, and it is a little east of a
meridional line drawn through the centre of the State. As the waters
of New York flow either southerly into the Atlantic or northerly
into Ontario and its outlet, Otsego Lake, being the source of the
Susquehanna, is of necessity among its highest lands. The face of the
country, the climate as it was found by the whites, and the manners of
the settlers, are described with a minuteness for which the author has
no other apology than the force of his own recollections.

Otsego is said to be a word compounded of Ot, a place of meeting, and
Sego, or Sago, the ordinary term of salutation used by the Indians of
this region. There is a tradition which says that the neighboring tribes
were accustomed to meet on the banks of the lake to make their treaties,
and otherwise to strengthen their alliances, and which refers the name
to this practice. As the Indian agent of New York had a log dwelling at
the foot of the lake, however, it is not impossible that the appellation
grew out of the meetings that were held at his council fires; the war
drove off the agent, in common with the other officers of the crown;
and his rude dwelling was soon abandoned. The author remembers it, a few
years later, reduced to the humble office of a smoke-house.

In 1779 an expedition was sent against the hostile Indians, who dwelt
about a hundred miles west of Otsego, on the banks of the Cayuga. The
whole country was then a wilderness, and it was necessary to transport
the bag gage of the troops by means of the rivers--a devious but
practicable route. One brigade ascended the Mohawk until it reached the
point nearest to the sources of the Susquehanna, whence it cut a lane
through the forest to the head of the Otsego. The boats and baggage
were carried over this “portage,” and the troops proceeded to the
other extremity of the lake, where they disembarked and encamped. The
Susquehanna, a narrow though rapid stream at its source, was much filled
with “flood wood,” or fallen trees; and the troops adopted a novel
expedient to facilitate their passage. The Otsego is about nine miles
in length, varying in breadth from half a mile to a mile and a half. The
water is of great depth, limpid, and supplied from a thousand springs.
At its foot the banks are rather less than thirty feet high the
remainder of its margin being in mountains, intervals, and points. The
outlet, or the Susquehanna, flows through a gorge in the low banks just
mentioned, which may have a width of two hundred feet. This gorge
was dammed and the waters of the lake collected: the Susquehanna was
converted into a rill.

When all was ready the troops embarked, the damn was knocked away, the
Otsego poured out its torrent, and the boats went merrily down with the
current.

General James Clinton, the brother of George Clinton, then governor of
New York, and the father of De Witt Clinton, who died governor of the
same State in 1827, commanded the brigade employed on this duty. During
the stay of the troops at the foot of the Otsego a soldier was shot
for desertion. The grave of this unfortunate man was the first place of
human interment that the author ever beheld, as the smoke-house was the
first ruin! The swivel alluded to in this work was buried and abandoned
by the troops on this occasion, and it was subsequently found in digging
the cellars of the authors paternal residence.

Soon after the close of the war, Washington, accompanied by many
distinguished men, visited the scene of this tale, it is said with a
view to examine the facilities for opening a communication by water with
other points of the country. He stayed but a few hours.

In 1785 the author’s father, who had an interest in extensive tracts of
land in this wilderness, arrived with a party of surveyors. The manner
in which the scene met his eye is described by Judge Temple. At the
commencement of the following year the settlement began; and from that
time to this the country has continued to flourish. It is a singular
feature in American life that at the beginning of this century, when the
proprietor of the estate had occasion for settlers on a new settlement
and in a remote county, he was enabled to draw them from among the
increase of the former colony.

Although the settlement of this part of Otsego a little preceded the
birth of the author, it was not sufficiently advanced to render it
desirable that an event so important to himself should take place in the
wilderness. Perhaps his mother had a reasonable distrust of the practice
of Dr Todd, who must then have been in the novitiate of his experimental
acquirements. Be that as it may, the author was brought an infant into
this valley, and all his first impressions were here obtained. He has
inhabited it ever since, at intervals; and he thinks he can answer for
the faithfulness of the picture he has drawn. Otsego has now become one
of the most populous districts of New York. It sends forth its emigrants
like any other old region, and it is pregnant with industry and
enterprise. Its manufacturers are prosperous, and it is worthy of remark
that one of the most ingenious machines known in European art is derived
from the keen ingenuity which is exercised in this remote region.

In order to prevent mistake, it may be well to say that the incidents of
this tale are purely a fiction. The literal facts are chiefly connected
with the natural and artificial objects and the customs of the
inhabitants. Thus the academy, and court-house, and jail, and inn, and
most similar things, are tolerably exact. They have all, long since,
given place to other buildings of a more pretending character. There
is also some liberty taken with the truth in the description of the
principal dwelling; the real building had no “firstly” and “lastly.”
 It was of bricks, and not of stone; and its roof exhibited none of the
peculiar beauties of the “composite order.” It was erected in an age
too primitive for that ambitious school of architecture. But the author
indulged his recollections freely when he had fairly entered the door.
Here all is literal, even to the severed arm of Wolfe, and the urn which
held the ashes of Queen Dido.*

  * Though forests still crown the mountains of Otsego, the bear, the
    wolf, and the panther are nearly strangers to them.  Even the innocent
    deer is rarely seen bounding beneath their arches; for the rifle and
    the activity of the settlers hare driven them to other haunts.  To
    this change (which in some particulars is melancholy to one who knew
    the country in its infancy), it may be added that the Otsego is
    beginning to be a niggard of its treasures.

The author has elsewhere said that the character of Leather-Stocking is
a creation, rendered probable by such auxiliaries as were necessary to
produce that effect. Had he drawn still more upon fancy, the lovers of
fiction would not have so much cause for their objections to his work.
Still, the picture would not have been in the least true without some
substitutes for most of the other personages. The great proprietor
resident on his lands, and giving his name to instead of receiving it
from his estates as in Europe, is common over the whole of New York.
The physician with his theory, rather obtained from than corrected
by experiments on the human constitution; the pious, self-denying,
laborious, and ill-paid missionary; the half-educated, litigious,
envious, and disreputable lawyer, with his counterpoise, a brother of
the profession, of better origin and of better character; the shiftless,
bargaining, discontented seller of his “betterments;” the plausible
carpenter, and most of the others, are more familiar to all who have
ever dwelt in a new country.

It may be well to say here, a little more explicitly, that there was no
real intention to describe with particular accuracy any real characters
in this book. It has been often said, and in published statements, that
the heroine of this book was drawn after the sister of the writer, who
was killed by a fall from a horse now near half a century since. So
ingenious is conjecture that a personal resemblance has been discovered
between the fictitious character and the deceased relative! It is
scarcely possible to describe two females of the same class in life who
would be less alike, personally, than Elizabeth Temple and the sister of
the author who met with the deplorable fate mentioned. In a word, they
were as unlike in this respect as in history, character, and fortunes.

Circumstances rendered this sister singularly dear to the author. After
a lapse of half a century, he is writing this paragraph with a pain that
would induce him to cancel it, were it not still more painful to have it
believed that one whom he regarded with a reverence that surpassed the
love of a brother was converted by him into the heroine of a work of
fiction.

From circumstances which, after this Introduction, will be obvious to
all, the author has had more pleasure in writing “The Pioneers” than the
book will probably ever give any of its readers. He is quite aware of
its numerous faults, some of which he has endeavored to repair in this
edition; but as he has--in intention, at least--done his full share in
amusing the world, he trusts to its good-nature for overlooking this
attempt to please himself.



CHAPTER I.

     “See, Winter comes, to rule the varied years,
     Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
     Vapors, and clouds, and storms.”--Thomson.

Near the centre of the State of New York lies an extensive district of
country whose surface is a succession of hills and dales, or, to speak
with greater deference to geographical definitions, of mountains and
valleys. It is among these hills that the Delaware takes its rise; and
flowing from the limpid lakes and thousand springs of this region the
numerous sources of the Susquehanna meander through the valleys until,
uniting their streams, they form one of the proudest rivers of the
United States. The mountains are generally arable to the tops, although
instances are not wanting where the sides are jutted with rocks that aid
greatly in giving to the country that romantic and picturesque character
which it so eminently possesses. The vales are narrow, rich, and
cultivated, with a stream uniformly winding through each. Beautiful and
thriving villages are found interspersed along the margins of the small
lakes, or situated at those points of the streams which are favorable
for manufacturing; and neat and comfortable farms, with every indication
of wealth about them, are scattered profusely through the vales, and
even to the mountain tops. Roads diverge in every direction from
the even and graceful bottoms of the valleys to the most rugged and
intricate passes of the hills. Academies and minor edifices of learning
meet the eye of the stranger at every few miles as be winds his way
through this uneven territory, and places for the worship of God abound
with that frequency which characterize a moral and reflecting people,
and with that variety of exterior and canonical government which flows
from unfettered liberty of conscience. In short, the whole district is
hourly exhibiting how much can be done, in even a rugged country and
with a severe climate, under the dominion of mild laws, and where every
man feels a direct interest in the prosperity of a commonwealth of which
he knows himself to form a part. The expedients of the pioneers who
first broke ground in the settlement of this country are succeeded
by the permanent improvements of the yeoman who intends to leave his
remains to moulder under the sod which he tills, or perhaps of the son,
who, born in the land, piously wishes to linger around the grave of
his father. Only forty years * have passed since this territory was a
wilderness.

  * Our tale begins in 1793, about seven years after the commencement of
    one of the earliest of those settlements which have conduced to effect
    that magical change in the power and condition of the State to which
    we have alluded.

Very soon after the establishment of the independence of the States by
the peace of 1783, the enterprise of their citizens was directed to
a development of the natural ad vantages of their widely extended
dominions. Before the war of the Revolution, the inhabited parts of the
colony of New York were limited to less than a tenth of its possessions,
A narrow belt of country, extending for a short distance on either side
of the Hudson, with a similar occupation of fifty miles on the banks of
the Mohawk, together with the islands of Nassau and Staten, and a few
insulated settlements on chosen land along the margins of streams,
composed the country, which was then inhabited by less than two
hundred thousand souls. Within the short period we have mentioned, the
population has spread itself over five degrees of latitude and seven of
longitude, and has swelled to a million and a half of inhabitants, who
are maintained in abundance, and can look forward to ages before the
evil day must arrive when their possessions shall become unequal to
their wants.

It was near the setting of the sun, on a clear, cold day in December,
when a sleigh was moving slowly up one of the mountains in the district
we have described. The day had been fine for the season, and but two or
three large clouds, whose color seemed brightened by the light reflected
from the mass of snow that covered the earth, floated in a sky of the
purest blue. The road wound along the brow of a precipice, and on one
side was upheld by a foundation of logs piled one upon the other, while
a narrow excavation in the mountain in the opposite direction had made a
passage of sufficient width for the ordinary travelling of that day. But
logs, excavation, and every thing that did not reach several feet above
the earth lay alike buried beneath the snow. A single track, barely wide
enough to receive the sleigh, * denoted the route of the highway, and
this was sunk nearly two feet below the surrounding surface.

  * Sleigh is the word used in every part of the United States to denote
    a traineau.  It is of local use in the west of England, whence it is
    most probably derived by the Americans.  The latter draw a distinction
    between a sled, or sledge, and a sleigh, the sleigh being shod with
    metal. Sleighs are also subdivided into two-horse and one-horse
    sleighs.  Of the latter, there are the cutter, with thills so arranged
    as to permit the horse to travel in the side track; the “pung,” or
    “tow-pung” which is driven with a pole; and the “gumper,” a rude
    construction used for temporary purposes in the new countries.  Many
    of the American sleighs are elegant though the use of this mode of
    conveyance is much lessened with the melioration of the climate
    consequent to the clearing of the forests.

In the vale, which lay at a distance of several hundred feet lower,
there was what, in the language of the country, was called a clearing,
and all the usual improvements of a new settlement; these even extended
up the hill to the point where the road turned short and ran across
the level land, which lay on the summit of the mountain; but the summit
itself remained in the forest. There was glittering in the atmosphere,
as if it was filled with innumerable shining particles; and the noble
bay horses that drew the sleigh were covered, in many parts with a coat
of hoar-frost. The vapor from their nostrils was seen to issue like
smoke; and every object in the view, as well as every arrangement of the
travellers, denoted the depth of a winter in the mountains. The harness,
which was of a deep, dull black, differing from the glossy varnishing
of the present day, was ornamented with enormous plates and buckles of
brass, that shone like gold in those transient beams of the sun which
found their way obliquely through the tops of the trees. Huge saddles,
studded with nails and fitted with cloth that served as blankets to the
shoulders of the cattle, supported four high, square-topped turrets,
through which the stout reins led from the mouths of the horses to the
hands of the driver, who was a negro, of apparently twenty years of
age. His face, which nature had colored with a glistening black, was now
mottled with the cold, and his large shining eyes filled with tears;
a tribute to its power that the keen frosts of those regions always
extracted from one of his African origin. Still, there was a smiling
expression of good-humor in his happy countenance, that was created
by the thoughts of home and a Christmas fireside, with its Christmas
frolics. The sleigh was one of those large, comfortable, old-fashioned
conveyances, which would admit a whole family within its bosom, but
which now contained only two passengers besides the driver. The color of
its outside was a modest green, and that of its inside a fiery red, The
latter was intended to convey the idea of heat in that cold climate.
Large buffalo-skins trimmed around the edges with red cloth cut into
festoons, covered the back of the sleigh, and were spread over its
bottom and drawn up around the feet of the travellers--one of whom was
a man of middle age and the other a female just entering upon womanhood.
The former was of a large stature; but the precautions he had taken to
guard against the cold left but little of his person exposed to view.
A great-coat, that was abundantly ornamented by a profusion of furs,
enveloped the whole of his figure excepting the head, which was covered
with a cap of mar ten-skins lined with morocco, the sides of which were
made to fall, if necessary, and were now drawn close over the ears and
fastened beneath his chin with a black rib bon. The top of the cap was
surmounted with the tail of the animal whose skin had furnished the rest
of the materials, which fell back, not ungracefully, a few inches be
hind the head. From beneath this mask were to be seen part of a fine,
manly face, and particularly a pair of expressive large blue eyes, that
promised extraordinary intellect, covert humor, and great benevolence.
The form of his companion was literally hid beneath the garments she
wore. There were furs and silks peeping from under a large camlet cloak
with a thick flannel lining, that by its cut and size was evidently
intended for a masculine wearer. A huge hood of black silk, that was
quilted with down, concealed the whole of her head, except at a small
opening in front for breath, through which occasionally sparkled a pair
of animated jet-black eyes.

Both the father and daughter (for such was the connection between the
two travellers) were too much occupied with their reflections to break
a stillness that derived little or no interruption from the easy gliding
of the sleigh by the sound of their voices. The former was thinking of
the wife that had held this their only child to her bosom, when, four
years before, she had reluctantly consented to relinquish the society of
her daughter in order that the latter might enjoy the advantages of an
education which the city of New York could only offer at that period. A
few months afterward death had deprived him of the remaining companion
of his solitude; but still he had enough real regard for his child not
to bring her into the comparative wilderness in which he dwelt, until
the full period had expired to which he had limited her juvenile labors.
The reflections of the daughter were less melancholy, and mingled with
a pleased astonishment at the novel scenery she met at every turn in the
road.

The mountain on which they were journeying was covered with pines that
rose without a branch some seventy or eighty feet, and which frequently
doubled that height by the addition of the tops. Through the innumerable
vistas that opened beneath the lofty trees, the eye could penetrate
until it was met by a distant inequality in the ground, or was stopped
by a view of the summit of the mountain which lay on the opposite side
of the valley to which they were hastening. The dark trunks of the trees
rose from the pure white of the snow in regularly formed shafts, until,
at a great height, their branches shot forth horizontal limbs, that were
covered with the meagre foliage of an evergreen, affording a melancholy
contrast to the torpor of nature below. To the travellers there seemed
to be no wind; but these pines waved majestically at their topmost
boughs, sending forth a dull, plaintive sound that was quite in
consonance with the rest of the melancholy scene.

The sleigh had glided for some distance along the even surface, and the
gaze of the female was bent in inquisitive and, perhaps, timid glances
into the recesses of the forest, when a loud and continued howling was
heard, pealing under the long arches of the woods like the cry of a
numerous pack of hounds. The instant the sounds reached the ear of the
gentleman he cried aloud to the black:

“Hol up, Aggy; there is old Hector; I should know his bay among ten
thousand! The Leather-Stocking has put his hounds into the hills this
clear day, and they have started their game. There is a deer-track a few
rods ahead; and now, Bess, if thou canst muster courage enough to stand
fire, I will give thee a saddle for thy Christmas dinner.”

The black drew up, with a cheerful grin upon his chilled features, and
began thrashing his arms together in order to restore the circulation of
his fingers, while the speaker stood erect and, throwing aside his outer
covering, stepped from the sleigh upon a bank of snow which sustained
his weight without yielding.

In a few moments the speaker succeeded in extricating a double-barrelled
fowling-piece from among a multitude of trunks and bandboxes. After
throwing aside the thick mittens which had encased his hands, there
now appeared a pair of leather gloves tipped with fur; he examined his
priming, and was about to move forward, when the light bounding noise of
an animal plunging through the woods was heard, and a fine buck darted
into the path a short distance ahead of him. The appearance of the
animal was sudden, and his flight inconceivably rapid; but the traveller
appeared to be too keen a sportsman to be disconcerted by either. As it
came first into view he raised the fowling-piece to his shoulder and,
with a practised eye and steady hand, drew a trigger. The deer dashed
forward undaunted, and apparently unhurt. Without lowering his piece,
the traveller turned its muzzle toward his victim, and fired again.
Neither discharge, however, seemed to have taken effect,

The whole scene had passed with a rapidity that confused the female,
who was unconsciously rejoicing in the escape of the buck, as he rather
darted like a meteor than ran across the road, when a sharp, quick sound
struck her ear, quite different from the full, round reports of her
father’s gun, but still sufficiently distinct to be known as the
concussion produced by firearms. At the same instant that she heard this
unexpected report, the buck sprang from the snow to a great height in
the air, and directly a second discharge, similar in sound to the first,
followed, when the animal came to the earth, failing head long and
rolling over on the crust with its own velocity. A loud shout was given
by the unseen marksman, and a couple of men instantly appeared from
behind the trunks of two of the pines, where they had evidently placed
them selves in expectation of the passage of the deer.

“Ha! Natty, had I known you were in ambush, I should not have fired,”
 cried the traveller, moving toward the spot where the deer lay--near to
which he was followed by the delighted black, with his sleigh; “but the
sound of old Hector was too exhilarating to be quiet; though I hardly
think I struck him, either.”

“No--no----Judge,” returned the hunter, with an inward chuckle, and
with that look of exultation that indicates a consciousness of superior
skill, “you burnt your powder only to warm your nose this cold evening.
Did ye think to stop a full-grown buck, with Hector and the slut open
upon him within sound, with that pop-gun in your hand! There’s plenty of
pheasants among the swamps; and the snow-birds are flying round your own
door, where you may feed them with crumbs, and shoot them at pleasure,
any day; but if you’re for a buck, or a little bear’s meat, Judge,
you’ll have to take the long rifle, with a greased wadding, or you’ll
waste more powder than you’ll fill stomachs, I’m thinking.”

As the speaker concluded he drew his bare hand across the bottom of his
nose, and again opened his enormous mouth with a kind of inward laugh.

“The gun scatters well, Natty, And it has killed a deer before now,”
 said the traveller, smiling good-humoredly. “One barrel was charged with
buckshot, but the other was loaded for birds only. Here are two hurts;
one through the neck, and the other directly through the heart. It is by
no means certain, Natty, but I gave him one of the two.

“Let who will kill him.” said the hunter, rather surily.

“I suppose the creature is to be eaten.” So saying, he drew a large
knife from a leathern sheath, which was stuck through his girdle, or
sash, and cut the throat of the animal, “If there are two balls through
the deer, I would ask if there weren’t two rifles fired--besides, who
ever saw such a ragged hole from a smooth-bore as this through the neck?
And you will own yourself, Judge, that the buck fell at the last shot,
which was sent from a truer and a younger hand than your’n or mine
either; but, for my part, although I am a poor man I can live without
the venison, but I don’t love to give up my lawful dues in a free
country. Though, for the matter of that, might often makes right here,
as well as in the old country, for what I can see.”

An air of sullen dissatisfaction pervaded the manner of the hunter
during the whole of his speech; yet he thought it prudent to utter the
close of the sentence in such an undertone as to leave nothing audible
but the grumbling sounds of his voice.

“Nay, Natty,” rejoined the traveller, with undisturbed good-humor, “it
is for the honor that I contend. A few dollars will pay for the venison;
but what will requite me for the lost honor of a buck’s tail in my cap?
Think, Natty, how I should triumph over that quizzing dog, Dick Jones,
who has failed seven times already this season, and has only brought in
one woodchuck and a few gray squirrels.”

“Ah! The game is becoming hard to find, indeed, Judge, with your
clearings and betterments,” said the old hunter, with a kind of
compelled resignation. “The time has been when I have shot thirteen deer
without counting the fa’ns standing in the door of my own hut; and for
bear’s meat, if one wanted a ham or so, he had only to watch a-nights,
and he could shoot one by moonlight, through the cracks of the logs, no
fear of his oversleeping himself neither, for the howling of the wolves
was sartin to keep his eyes open. There’s old Hector”--patting with
affection a tall hound of black and yellow spots, with white belly and
legs, that just then came in on the scent, accompanied by the slut he
had mentioned; “see where the wolves bit his throat, the night I druv
them from the venison that was smoking on the chimney top--that dog is
more to be trusted than many a Christian man; for he never forgets a
friend, and loves the hand that gives him bread.”

There was a peculiarity in the manner of the hunter that attracted the
notice of the young female, who had been a close and interested observer
of his appearance and equipments, from the moment he came into view. He
was tall, and so meagre as to make him seem above even the six feet
that he actually stood in his stockings. On his head, which was
thinly covered with lank, sandy hair, he wore a cap made of fox-skin,
resembling in shape the one we have already described, although much
inferior in finish and ornaments. His face was skinny and thin al most
to emaciation; but yet it bore no signs of disease--on the contrary, it
had every indication of the most robust and enduring health. The cold
and exposure had, together, given it a color of uniform red. His gray
eyes were glancing under a pair of shaggy brows, that over hung them in
long hairs of gray mingled with their natural hue; his scraggy neck was
bare, and burnt to the same tint with his face; though a small part of
a shirt-collar, made of the country check, was to be seen above the
overdress he wore. A kind of coat, made of dressed deer-skin, with
the hair on, was belted close to his lank body by a girdle of colored
worsted. On his feet were deer-skin moccasins, ornamented with
porcupines’ quills, after the manner of the Indians, and his limbs were
guarded with long leggings of the same material as the moccasins,
which, gartering over the knees of his tarnished buckskin breeches, had
obtained for him among the settlers the nickname of Leather-Stocking.
Over his left shoulder was slung a belt of deer-skin, from which
depended an enormous ox-horn, so thinly scraped as to discover the
powder it contained. The larger end was fitted ingeniously and securely
with a wooden bottom, and the other was stopped tight by a little plug.
A leathern pouch hung before him, from which, as he concluded his last
speech, he took a small measure, and, filling it accurately with powder,
he commenced reloading the rifle, which as its butt rested on the snow
before him reached nearly to the top of his fox-skin cap.

The traveller had been closely examining the wounds during these
movements, and now, without heeding the ill-humor of the hunter’s
manner, he exclaimed:

“I would fain establish a right, Natty, to the honor of this death; and
surely if the hit in the neck be mine it is enough; for the shot in
the heart was unnecessary--what we call an act of supererogation,
Leather-Stocking.”

“You may call it by what larned name you please, Judge,” said the
hunter, throwing his rifle across his left arm, and knocking up a brass
lid in the breech, from which he took a small piece of greased leather
and, wrapping a bail in it, forced them down by main strength on the
powder, where he continued to pound them while speaking. “It’s far
easier to call names than to shoot a buck on the spring; but the creatur
came by his end from a younger hand than either your’n or mine, as I
said before.”

“What say you, my friend,” cried the traveller, turning pleasantly to
Natty’s companion; “shall we toss up this dollar for the honor, and you
keep the silver if you lose; what say you, friend?”

“That I killed the deer,” answered the young man, with a little
haughtiness, as he leaned on another long rifle similar to that of
Natty.

“Here are two to one, indeed,” replied the Judge with a smile; “I am
outvoted--overruled, as we say on the bench. There is Aggy, he can’t
vote, being a slave; and Bess is a minor--so I must even make the best
of it. But you’ll send me the venison; and the deuce is in it, but I
make a good story about its death.”

“The meat is none of mine to sell,” said Leather-Stocking, adopting a
little of his companion’s hauteur; “for my part, I have known animals
travel days with shots in the neck, and I’m none of them who’ll rob a
man of his rightful dues.”

“You are tenacious of your rights, this cold evening, Natty,” returned
the Judge with unconquerable good-nature; “but what say you, young man;
will three dollars pay you for the buck?”

“First let us determine the question of right to the satisfaction of us
both,” said the youth firmly but respect fully, and with a pronunciation
and language vastly superior to his appearance: “with how many shot did
you load your gun?”

“With five, sir,” said the Judge, a little struck with the other’s
manner; “are they not enough to slay a buck like this?”

“One would do it; but,” moving to the tree from be hind which he had
appeared, “you know, sir, you fired in this direction--here are four of
the bullets in the tree.”

The Judge examined the fresh marks in the bark of the pine, and, shaking
his head, said with a laugh:

“You are making out the case against yourself, my young advocate; where
is the fifth?”

“Here,” said the youth, throwing aside the rough over coat that he wore,
and exhibiting a hole in his under-garment, through which large drops of
blood were oozing.

“Good God!” exclaimed the Judge, with horror; “have I been trifling
here about an empty distinction, and a fellow-creature suffering from my
hands without a murmur? But hasten--quick--get into my sleigh--it is but
a mile to the village, where surgical aid can be obtained--all shall
be done at my expense, and thou shalt live with me until thy wound is
healed, ay, and forever afterward.”

“I thank you for your good intention, but I must decline your offer.
I have a friend who would be uneasy were he to hear that I am hurt and
away from him. The injury is but slight, and the bullet has missed the
bones; but I believe, sir, you will now admit me title to the venison.”

“Admit it!” repeated the agitated Judge; “I here give thee a right to
shoot deer, or bears, or anything thou pleasest in my woods, forever.
Leather-Stocking is the only other man that I have granted the same
privilege to; and the time is coming when it will be of value. But I buy
your deer--here, this bill will pay thee, both for thy shot and my own.”

The old hunter gathered his tall person up into an air of pride during
this dialogue, but he waited until the other had done speaking.

“There’s them living who say that Nathaniel Bumppo’s right to shoot on
these hills is of older date than Marmaduke Temple’s right to forbid
him,” he said. “But if there’s a law about it at all, though who ever
heard of a law that a man shouldn’t kill deer where he pleased!--but
if there is a law at all, it should be to keep people from the use of
smooth-bores. A body never knows where his lead will fly, when he pulls
the trigger of one of them uncertain firearms.”

Without attending to the soliloquy of Natty, the youth bowed his head
silently to the offer of the bank-note, and replied:

“Excuse me: I have need of the venison.”

“But this will buy you many deer,” said the Judge; “take it, I entreat
you;” and, lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, “It is for a
hundred dollars.”

For an instant only the youth seemed to hesitate, and then, blushing
even through the high color that the cold had given to his cheeks, as if
with inward shame at his own weakness, he again declined the offer.

During this scene the female arose, and regardless of the cold air, she
threw back the hood which concealed her features, and now spoke, with
great earnestness.

“Surely, surely--young man--sir--you would not pain my father so much
as to have him think that he leaves a fellow-creature in this wilderness
whom his own hand has injured. I entreat you will go with us, and
receive medical aid.”

Whether his wound became more painful, or there was something
irresistible in the voice and manner of the fair pleader for her
father’s feelings, we know not; but the distance of the young mans
manner was sensibly softened by this appeal, and he stood in apparent
doubt, as if reluctant to comply with and yet unwilling to refuse her
request. The Judge, for such being his office must in future be his
title, watched with no little interest the display of this singular
contention in the feelings of the youth; and, advancing, kindly took his
hand, and, as he pulled him gently toward the sleigh, urged him to enter
it.

“There is no human aid nearer than Templeton,” he said, “and the hut
of Natty is full three miles from this--come, come, my young friend, go
with us, and let the new doctor look to this shoulder of thine. Here is
Natty will take the tidings of thy welfare to thy friend; and shouldst
thou require it, thou shalt return home in the morning.” The young man
succeeded in extricating his hand from the warm grasp of the Judge, but
he continued to gaze on the face of the female, who, regardless of the
cold, was still standing with her fine features exposed, which
expressed feeling that eloquently seconded the request of her father.
Leather-Stocking stood, in the mean time, leaning upon his long rifle,
with his head turned a little to one side, as if engaged in sagacious
musing; when, having apparently satisfied his doubts, by revolving the
subject in his mind, he broke silence. “It may be best to go, lad, after
all; for, if the shot hangs under the skin, my hand is getting too old
to be cutting into human flesh, as I once used to, Though some thirty
years agone, in the old war, when I was out under Sir William, I
travelled seventy miles alone in the howling wilderness, with a rifle
bullet in my thigh, and then cut it out with my own jack-knife.
Old Indian John knows the time well. I met him with a party of the
Delawares, on the trail of the Iroquois, who had been down and taken
five scalps on the Schoharie. But I made a mark on the red-skin that
I’ll warrant he’ll carry to his grave! I took him on the posteerum,
saving the lady’s presence, as he got up from the ambushment, and
rattled three buckshot into his naked hide, so close that you might have
laid a broad joe upon them all”--here Natty stretched out his long
neck, and straightened his body, as he opened his mouth, which exposed
a single tusk of yellow bone, while his eyes, his face, even his whole
frame seemed to laugh, although no sound was emitted except a kind
of thick hissing, as he inhaled his breath in quavers. “I had lost my
bullet-mould in crossing the Oneida outlet, and had to make shift with
the buckshot; but the rifle was true, and didn’t scatter like your
two-legged thing there, Judge, which don’t do, I find, to hunt in
company with.”

Natty’s apology to the delicacy of the young lady was unnecessary, for,
while he was speaking, she was too much employed in helping her father
to remove certain articles of baggage to hear him. Unable to resist the
kind urgency of the travellers any longer, the youth, though still with
an unaccountable reluctance, suffered himself to be persuaded to enter
the sleigh. The black, with the aid of his master, threw the buck across
the baggage and entering the vehicle themselves, the Judge invited the
hunter to do so likewise.

“No, no,” said the old roan, shaking his head; “I have work to do at
home this Christmas eve--drive on with the boy, and let your doctor look
to the shoulder; though if he will only cut out the shot, I have yarbs
that will heal the wound quicker than all his foreign ‘intments.” He
turned, and was about to move off, when, suddenly recollecting himself,
he again faced the party, and added: “If you see anything of Indian
John, about the foot of the lake, you had better take him with you, and
let him lend the doctor a hand; for, old as he is, he is curious at cuts
and bruises, and it’s likelier than not he’ll be in with brooms to sweep
your Christmas ha’arths.”

“Stop, stop,” cried the youth, catching the arm of the black as he
prepared to urge his horses forward; “Natty--you need say nothing of the
shot, nor of where I am going--remember, Natty, as you love me.”

“Trust old Leather-Stocking,” returned the hunter significantly; “he
hasn’t lived fifty years in the wilderness, and not larnt from the
savages how to hold his tongue--trust to me, lad; and remember old
Indian John.”

“And, Natty,” said the youth eagerly, still holding the black by the
arm. “I will just get the shot extracted, and bring you up to-night a
quarter of the buck for the Christmas dinner.”

He was interrupted by the hunter, who held up his finger with an
expressive gesture for silence. He then moved softly along the margin of
the road, keeping his eyes steadfastly fixed on the branches of a pine.
When he had obtained such a position as he wished, he stopped, and,
cocking his rifle, threw one leg far behind him, and stretching his left
arm to its utmost extent along the barrel of his piece, he began slowly
to raise its muzzle in a line with the straight trunk of the tree. The
eyes of the group in the sleigh naturally preceded the movement of the
rifle, and they soon discovered the object of Natty’s aim. On a small
dead branch of the pine, which, at the distance of seventy feet from the
ground, shot out horizontally, immediately beneath the living members
of the tree, sat a bird, that in the vulgar language of the country was
indiscriminately called a pheasant or a partridge. In size, it was but
little smaller than a common barn-yard fowl. The baying of the dogs, and
the conversation that had passed near the root of the tree on which it
was perched, had alarmed the bird, which was now drawn up near the body
of the pine, with a head and neck so erect as to form nearly a straight
line with its legs. As soon as the rifle bore on the victim, Natty drew
his trigger, and the partridge fell from its height with a force that
buried it in the snow.

“Lie down, you old villain,” exclaimed Leather-Stocking, shaking his
ramrod at Hector as he bounded toward the foot of the tree, “lie down,
I say.” The dog obeyed, and Natty proceeded with great rapidity, though
with the nicest accuracy, to reload his piece. When this was ended, he
took up his game, and, showing it to the party without a head, he cried:
“Here is a tidbit for an old man’s Christmas--never mind the venison,
boy, and remember Indian John; his yarbs are better than all the foreign
‘intments. Here, Judge,” holding up the bird again, “do you think a
smooth-bore would pick game off their roost, and not ruffle a feather?”
 The old man gave another of his remarkable laughs, which partook so
largely of exultation, mirth, and irony, and, shaking his head, he
turned, with his rifle at a trail, and moved into the forest with steps
that were between a walk and a trot. At each movement he made his body
lowered several inches, his knees yielding with an inclination inward;
but, as the sleigh turned at a bend in the road, the youth cast his eyes
in quest of his old companion, and he saw that he was already nearly
concealed by the trunks of the tree; while his dogs were following
quietly in his footsteps, occasionally scenting the deer track, that
they seemed to know instinctively was now of no further use to them.
Another jerk was given to the sleigh, and Leather-Stocking was hid from
view.



CHAPTER II

     All places that the eye of heaven visits
     Are to a wise man ports and happy havens:
     Think not the king did banish thee:
     But thou the king.--Richard II

An ancestor of Marmaduke Temple had, about one hundred and twenty years
before the commencement of our tale, come to the colony of Pennsylvania,
a friend and co-religionist of its great patron. Old Marmaduke, for this
formidable prenomen was a kind of appellative to the race, brought with
him, to that asylum of the persecuted an abundance of the good things
of this life. He became the master of many thousands of acres of
uninhabited territory, and the supporter of many a score of dependents.
He lived greatly respected for his piety, and not a little distinguished
as a sectary; was intrusted by his associates with many important
political stations; and died just in time to escape the knowledge of his
own poverty. It was his lot to share the fortune of most of those
who brought wealth with them into the new settlements of the middle
colonies.

The consequence of an emigrant into these provinces was generally to be
ascertained by the number of his white servants or dependents, and the
nature of the public situations that he held. Taking this rule as a
guide, the ancestor of our Judge must have been a man of no little note.

It is, however, a subject of curious inquiry at the present day, to look
into the brief records of that early period, and observe how regular,
and with few exceptions how inevitable, were the gradations, on the one
hand, of the masters to poverty, and on the other, of their servants to
wealth. Accustomed to ease, and unequal to the struggles incident to an
infant society, the affluent emigrant was barely enabled to maintain
his own rank by the weight of his personal superiority and acquirements;
but, the moment that his head was laid in the grave, his indolent and
comparatively uneducated offspring were compelled to yield precedency to
the more active energies of a class whose exertions had been stimulated
by necessity. This is a very common course of things, even in the
present state of the Union; but it was peculiarly the fortunes of the
two extremes of society, in the peaceful and unenterprising colonies of
Pennsylvania and New Jersey,

The posterity of Marmaduke did not escape the common lot of those who
depend rather on their hereditary possessions than on their own powers;
and in the third generation they had descended to a point below which,
in this happy country, it is barely possible for honesty, intellect
and sobriety to fall. The same pride of family that had, by its
self-satisfied indolence, conduced to aid their fail, now became a
principle to stimulate them to endeavor to rise again. The feeling, from
being morbid, was changed to a healthful and active desire to emulate
the character, the condition, and, peradventure, the wealth of their
ancestors also. It was the father of our new acquaintance, the Judge,
who first began to reascend in the scale of society; and in this
undertaking he was not a little assisted by a marriage, which aided in
furnishing the means of educating his only son in a rather better manner
than the low state of the common schools of Pennsylvania could promise;
or than had been the practice in the family for the two or three
preceding generations.

At the school where the reviving prosperity of his father was enabled
to maintain him, young Marmaduke formed an intimacy with a youth whose
years were about equal to his own. This was a fortunate connection for
our Judge, and paved the way to most of his future elevation in life.

There was not only great wealth but high court interest among the
connections of Edward Effingham. They were one of the few families then
resident in the colonies who thought it a degradation to its members
to descend to the pursuits of commerce; and who never emerged from the
privacy of domestic life unless to preside in the councils of the colony
or to bear arms in her defense. The latter had from youth been the only
employment of Edward’s father. Military rank under the crown of Great
Britain was attained with much longer probation, and by much more
toilsome services, sixty years ago than at the present time. Years were
passed without murmuring, in the sub ordinate grades of the service;
and those soldiers who were stationed in the colonies felt, when they
obtained the command of a company, that they were entitled to receive
the greatest deference from the peaceful occupants of the soil. Any one
of our readers who has occasion to cross the Niagara may easily observe
not only the self importance, but the real estimation enjoyed by the hum
blest representative of the crown, even in that polar region of royal
sunshine. Such, and at no very distant period, was the respect paid to
the military in these States, where now, happily, no symbol of war is
ever seen, unless at the free and tearless voice of their people. When,
therefore, the father of Marmaduke’s friend, after forty years’
service, retired with the rank of major, maintaining in his domestic
establishment a comparative splendor, he be came a man of the first
consideration in his native colony which was that of New York. He had
served with fidelity and courage, and having been, according to the
custom of the provinces, intrusted with commands much superior to those
to which he was entitled by rank, with reputation also. When Major
Effingham yielded to the claims of age, he retired with dignity,
refusing his half-pay or any other compensation for services that he
felt he could no longer perform.

The ministry proffered various civil offices which yielded not only
honor but profit; but he declined them all, with the chivalrous
independence and loyalty that had marked his character through life.
The veteran soon caused this set of patriotic disinterestedness to be
followed by another of private munificence, that, however little it
accorded with prudence, was in perfect conformity with the simple
integrity of his own views.

The friend of Marmaduke was his only child; and to this son, on his
marriage with a lady to whom the father was particularly partial, the
Major gave a complete conveyance of his whole estate, consisting of
money in the funds, a town and country residence, sundry valuable farms
in the old parts of the colony, and large tracts of wild land in the
new--in this manner throwing himself upon the filial piety of his
child for his own future maintenance. Major Effingham, in declining the
liberal offers of the British ministry, had subjected himself to the
suspicion of having attained his dotage, by all those who throng the
avenues to court patronage, even in the remotest corners of that vast
empire; but, when he thus voluntarily stripped himself of his great
personal wealth, the remainder of the community seemed instinctively to
adopt the conclusion also that he had reached a second childhood.
This may explain the fact of his importance rapidly declining; and, if
privacy was his object, the veteran had soon a free indulgence of his
wishes. Whatever views the world might entertain of this act of the
Major, to himself and to his child it seemed no more than a natural
gift by a father of those immunities which he could no longer enjoy or
improve, to a son, who was formed, both by nature and education, to
do both. The younger Effingham did not object to the amount of the
donation; for he felt that while his parent reserved a moral control
over his actions, he was relieving himself of a fatiguing burden: such,
indeed, was the confidence existing between them, that to neither did it
seem anything more than removing money from one pocket to another.

One of the first acts of the young man, on corning into possession
of his wealth, was to seek his early friend, with a view to offer any
assistance that it was now in his power to bestow.

The death of Marmaduke’s father, and the consequent division of his
small estate, rendered such an offer extremely acceptable to the
young Pennsylvanian; he felt his own powers, and saw, not only the
excellences, but the foibles in the character of his friend. Effingham
was by nature indolent, confiding, and at times impetuous and
indiscreet; but Marmaduke was uniformly equable, penetrating, and full
of activity and enterprise. To the latter therefore, the assistance, or
rather connection that was proffered to him, seemed to produce a mutual
advantage. It was cheerfully accepted, and the arrangement of its
conditions was easily completed. A mercantile house was established
in the metropolis of Pennsylvania, with the avails of Mr. Effingham’s
personal property; all, or nearly all, of which was put into the
possession of Temple, who was the only ostensible proprietor in
the concern, while, in secret, the other was entitled to an equal
participation in the profits. This connection was thus kept private for
two reasons, one of which, in the freedom of their inter course, was
frankly avowed to Marmaduke, while the other continued profoundly hid
in the bosom of his friend, The last was nothing more than pride. To
the descend ant of a line of soldiers, commerce, even in that indirect
manner, seemed a degrading pursuit; but an insuperable obstacle to the
disclosure existed in the prejudices of his father.

We have already said that Major Effingham had served as a soldier with
reputation. On one occasion, while in command on the western frontier
of Pennsylvania against a league of the French and Indians, not only his
glory, but the safety of himself and his troops were jeoparded by the
peaceful policy of that colony. To the soldier, this was an unpardonable
offence. He was fighting in their defense--he knew that the mild
principles of this little nation of practical Christians would be
disregarded by their subtle and malignant enemies; and he felt the
in jury the more deeply because he saw that the avowed object of the
colonists, in withholding their succors, would only have a tendency to
expose his command, without preserving the peace. The soldier succeeded,
after a desperate conflict, in extricating himself, with a handful of
his men, from their murderous enemy; but he never for gave the people
who had exposed him to a danger which they left him to combat alone. It
was in vain to tell him that they had no agency in his being placed on
their frontier at all; it was evidently for their benefit that he had
been so placed, and it was their “religious duty,” so the Major always
expressed it, “it was their religions duty to have supported him.”

At no time was the old soldier an admirer of the peaceful disciples of
Fox. Their disciplined habits, both of mind and body, had endowed them
with great physical perfection; and the eye of the veteran was apt to
scan the fair proportions and athletic frames of the colonists with
a look that seemed to utter volumes of contempt for their moral
imbecility, He was also a little addicted to the expression of a
belief that, where there was so great an observance of the externals of
religion, there could not be much of the substance. It is not our task
to explain what is or what ought to be the substance of Christianity,
but merely to record in this place the opinions of Major Effingham.

Knowing the sentiments of the father in relation to this people, it was
no wonder that the son hesitated to avow his connection with, nay, even
his dependence on the integrity of, a Quaker.

It has been said that Marmaduke deduced his origin from the
contemporaries and friends of Penn. His father had married without
the pale of the church to which he belonged, and had, in this manner,
forfeited some of the privileges of his offspring. Still, as young
Marmaduke was educated in a colony and society where even the ordinary
intercourse between friends was tinctured with the aspect of this
mild religion, his habits and language were some what marked by its
peculiarities. His own marriage at a future day with a lady without not
only the pale, but the influence, of this sect of religionists, had a
tendency, it is true, to weaken his early impressions; still he
retained them in some degree to the hour of his death, and was observed
uniformly, when much interested or agitated, to speak in the language of
his youth. But this is anticipating our tale.

When Marmaduke first became the partner of young Effingham, he was quite
the Quaker in externals; and it was too dangerous an experiment for
the son to think of encountering the prejudices of the father on this
subject. The connection, therefore, remained a profound secret to all
but those who were interested in it.

For a few years Marmaduke directed the commercial operations of his
house with a prudence and sagacity that afforded rich returns. He
married the lady we have mentioned, who was the mother of Elizabeth, and
the visits of his friend were becoming more frequent. There was a speedy
prospect of removing the veil from their intercourse, as its advantages
became each hour more apparent to Mr. Effingham, when the troubles that
preceded the war of the Revolution extended themselves to an alarming
degree.

Educated in the most dependent loyalty, Mr. Effingham had, from the
commencement of the disputes between the colonists and the crown, warmly
maintained what he believed to be the just prerogatives of his prince;
while, on the other hand, the clear head and independent mind of Temple
had induced him to espouse the cause of the people. Both might have
been influenced by early impressions; for, if the son of the loyal
and gallant soldier bowed in implicit obedience to the will of his
sovereign, the descendant of the persecuted followers of Penn looked
back with a little bitterness to the unmerited wrongs that had been
heaped upon his ancestors.

This difference in opinion had long been a subject of amicable dispute
between them: but, Latterly, the contest was getting to be too important
to admit of trivial discussions on the part of Marmaduke, whose acute
discernment was already catching faint glimmerings of the important
events that were in embryo. The sparks of dissension soon kindled into a
blaze; and the colonies, or rather, as they quickly declared themselves,
THE STATES, became a scene of strife and bloodshed for years.

A short time before the battle of Lexington, Mr. Effingham, already a
widower, transmitted to Marmaduke, for safe-keeping, all his valuable
effects and papers; and left the colony without his father. The war had,
however, scarcely commenced in earnest, when he reappeared in New York,
wearing the Livery of his king; and, in a short time, he took the
field at the head of a provincial corps. In the mean time Marmaduke had
completely committed himself in the cause, as it was then called, of the
rebel lion. Of course, all intercourse between the friends ceased--on
the part of Colonel Effingham it was unsought, and on that of Marmaduke
there was a cautious reserve. It soon became necessary for the latter to
abandon the capital of Philadelphia; but he had taken the precaution to
remove the whole of his effects beyond the reach of the royal forces,
including the papers of his friend also. There he continued serving his
country during the struggle, in various civil capacities, and always
with dignity and usefulness. While, however, he discharged his functions
with credit and fidelity, Marmaduke never seemed to lose sight of his
own interests; for, when the estates of the adherents of the crown fell
under the hammer, by the acts of confiscation, he appeared in New York,
and became the purchaser of extensive possessions at comparatively low
prices.

It is true that Marmaduke, by thus purchasing estates that had been
wrested by violence from others, rendered himself obnoxious to the
censures of that Sect which, at the same time that it discards its
children from a full participation in the family union, seems ever
unwilling to abandon them entirely to the world. But either his success,
or the frequency of the transgression in others, soon wiped off this
slight stain from his character; and, although there were a few
who, dissatisfied with their own fortunes, or conscious of their own
demerits, would make dark hints concerning the sudden prosperity of
the unportioned Quaker, yet his services, and possibly his wealth, soon
drove the recollection of these vague conjectures from men’s minds. When
the war ended, and the independence of the States was acknowledged, Mr.
Temple turned his attention from the pursuit of commerce, which was then
fluctuating and uncertain, to the settlement of those tracts of land
which he had purchased. Aided by a good deal of money, and directed by
the suggestions of a strong and practical reason, his enterprise throve
to a degree that the climate and rugged face of the country which he
selected would seem to forbid. His property increased in a tenfold
ratio, and he was already ranked among the most wealthy and important
of his countrymen. To inherit this wealth he had but one child--the
daughter whom we have introduced to the reader, and whom he was now
conveying from school to preside over a household that had too long
wanted a mistress.

When the district in which his estates lay had become sufficiently
populous to be set off as a county, Mr. Temple had, according to
the custom of the new settlements, been selected to fill its highest
judicial station. This might make a Templar smile; but in addition
to the apology of necessity, there is ever a dignity in talents
and experience that is commonly sufficient, in any station, for the
protection of its possessor; and Marmaduke, more fortunate in his native
clearness of mind than the judge of King Charles, not only decided
right, but was generally able to give a very good reason for it. At all
events, such was the universal practice of the country and the times;
and Judge Temple, so far from ranking among the lowest of his judicial
contemporaries in the courts of the new counties, felt himself, and was
unanimously acknowledged to be, among the first.

We shall here close this brief explanation of the history and character
of some of our personages leaving them in future to speak and act for
themselves.



CHAPTER III


     “All that thou see’st is Natures handiwork;
     Those rocks that upward throw their mossy brawl
     Like castled pinnacles of elder times;
     These venerable stems, that slowly rock
     Their towering branches in the wintry gale;
     That field of frost, which glitters in the sun,
     Mocking the whiteness of a marble breast!
     Yet man can mar such works with his rude taste,
     Like some sad spoiler of a virgin’s fame.”
      --Duo.

Some little while elapsed ere Marmaduke Temple was sufficiently
recovered from his agitation to scan the person of his new companion. He
now observed that he was a youth of some two or three and twenty years
of age, and rather above the middle height. Further observation was
prevented by the rough overcoat which was belted close to his form by a
worsted sash, much like the one worn by the old hunter. The eyes of the
Judge, after resting a moment on the figure of the stranger, were raised
to a scrutiny of his countenance. There had been a look of care visible
in the features of the youth, when he first entered the sleigh, that had
not only attracted the notice of Elizabeth, but which she had been much
puzzled to interpret. His anxiety seemed the strongest when he was en
joining his old companion to secrecy; and even when he had decided, and
was rather passively suffering himself to be conveyed to the village,
the expression of his eyes by no means indicated any great degree
of self-satisfaction at the step. But the lines of an uncommonly
prepossessing countenance were gradually becoming composed; and he now
sat silent, and apparently musing. The Judge gazed at him for some time
with earnestness, and then smiling, as if at his own forgetfulness, he
said:

“I believe, my young friend, that terror has driven you from my
recollection; your face is very familiar, and yet, for the honor of a
score of bucks’ tails in my cap, I could not tell your name.”

“I came into the country but three weeks since,” returned the youth
coldly, “and I understand you have been absent twice that time.”

“It will be five to-morrow. Yet your face is one that I have seen;
though it would not be strange, such has been my affright, should I see
thee in thy winding-sheet walking by my bedside to-night. What say’st
thou, Bess? Am I compos mentis or not? Fit to charge a grand jury, or,
what is just now of more pressing necessity, able to do the honors of
Christmas eve in the hall of Templeton?”

“More able to do either, my dear father.” said a playful voice from
under the ample inclosures of the hood, “than to kill deer with a
smooth-bore.” A short pause followed, and the same voice, but in
a different accent, continued. “We shall have good reasons for our
thanksgiving to night, on more accounts than one.”

The horses soon reached a point where they seemed to know by instinct
that the journey was nearly ended, and, bearing on the bits as they
tossed their heads, they rapidly drew the sleigh over the level land
which lay on the top of the mountain, and soon came to the point where
the road descended suddenly, but circuitously, into the valley.

The Judge was roused from his reflections, when he saw the four columns
of smoke which floated above his own chimneys. As house, village, and
valley burst on his sight, he exclaimed cheerfully to his daughter:

“See, Bess, there is thy resting-place for life! And thine too, young
man, if thou wilt consent to dwell with us.”

The eyes of his auditors involuntarily met; and, if the color that
gathered over the face of Elizabeth was contradicted by the cold
expression of her eye, the ambiguous smile that again played about
the lips of the stranger seemed equally to deny the probability of his
consenting to form one of this family group. The scene was one, however,
which might easily warm a heart less given to philanthropy than that of
Marmaduke Temple.

The side of the mountain on which our travellers were journeying, though
not absolutely perpendicular, was so steep as to render great care
necessary in descending the rude and narrow path which, in that early
day, wound along the precipices. The negro reined in his impatient
steeds, and time was given Elizabeth to dwell on a scene which was so
rapidly altering under the hands of man, that it only resembled in its
outlines the picture she had so often studied with delight in childhood.
Immediately beneath them lay a seeming plain, glittering without
in equality, and buried in mountains. The latter were precipitous,
especially on the side of the plain, and chiefly in forest. Here and
there the hills fell away in long, low points, and broke the sameness
of the outline, or setting to the long and wide field of snow, which,
without house, tree, fence, or any other fixture, resembled so much
spot less cloud settled to the earth. A few dark and moving spots were,
however, visible on the even surface, which the eye of Elizabeth knew to
be so many sleighs going their several ways to or from the village. On
the western border of the plain, the mountains, though equally high,
were less precipitous, and as they receded opened into irregular valleys
and glens, or were formed into terraces and hollows that admitted of
cultivation. Although the evergreens still held dominion over many
of the hills that rose on this side of the valley, yet the undulating
outlines of the distant mountains, covered with forests of beech and
maple, gave a relief to the eye, and the promise of a kinder soil.
Occasionally spots of white were discoverable amidst the forests of the
opposite hills, which announced, by the smoke that curled over the
tops of the trees, the habitations of man and the commencement of
agriculture. These spots were sometimes, by the aid of united labor,
enlarged into what were called settlements, but more frequently
were small and insulated; though so rapid were the changes, and so
persevering the labors of those who had cast their fortunes on the
success of the enterprise, that it was not difficult for the imagination
of Elizabeth to conceive they were enlarging under her eye while she was
gazing, in mute wonder, at the alterations that a few short years had
made in the aspect of the country. The points on the western side of
this remarkable plain, on which no plant had taken root, were both
larger and more numerous than those on its eastern, and one in
particular thrust itself forward in such a manner as to form beautifully
curved bays of snow on either side. On its extreme end an oak stretched
forward, as if to overshadow with its branches a spot which its roots
were forbidden to enter. It had released itself from the thraldom that
a growth of centuries had imposed on the branches of the surrounding
forest trees, and threw its gnarled and fantastic arms abroad, in
the wildness of liberty. A dark spot of a few acres in extent at the
southern extremity of this beautiful flat, and immediately under the
feet of our travellers, alone showed by its rippling surface, and the
vapors which exhaled from it, that what at first might seem a plain
was one of the mountain lakes, locked in the frosts of winter. A narrow
current rushed impetuously from its bosom at the open place we have
mentioned, and was to be traced for miles, as it wound its way toward
the south through the real valley, by its borders of hemlock and pine,
and by the vapor which arose from its warmer surface into the chill
atmosphere of the hills. The banks of this lovely basin, at its outlet,
or southern end, were steep, but not high; and in that direction the
land continued, far as the eye could reach, a narrow but graceful
valley, along which the settlers had scattered their humble habitations,
with a profusion that bespoke the quality of the soil and the
comparative facilities of intercourse, Immediately on the bank of the
lake and at its foot, stood the village of Templeton. It consisted of
some fifty buildings, including those of every description, chiefly
built of wood, and which, in their architecture, bore no great marks
of taste, but which also, by the unfinished appearance of most of the
dwellings, indicated the hasty manner of their construction, To the eye,
they presented a variety of colors. A few were white in both front and
rear, but more bore that expensive color on their fronts only, while
their economical but ambitious owners had covered the remaining sides
of the edifices with a dingy red. One or two were slowly assuming the
russet of age; while the uncovered beams that were to be seen through
the broken windows of their second stories showed that either the taste
or the vanity of their proprietors had led them to undertake a task
which they were unable to accomplish. The whole were grouped in a manner
that aped the streets of a city, and were evidently so arranged by the
directions of one who looked to the wants of posterity rather than to
the convenience of the present incumbents. Some three or four of the
better sort of buildings, in addition to the uniformity of their color,
were fitted with green blinds, which, at that season at least, were
rather strangely contrasted to the chill aspect of the lake, the
mountains, the forests, and the wide fields of snow. Before the doors
of these pretending dwellings were placed a few saplings, either without
branches or possessing only the feeble shoots of one or two summers’
growth, that looked not unlike tall grenadiers on post near the
threshold of princes. In truth, the occupants of these favored
habitations were the nobles of Templeton, as Marmaduke was its king.
They were the dwellings of two young men who were cunning in the law; an
equal number of that class who chaffered to the wants of the community
under the title of storekeepers; and a disciple of Aesculapius, who, for
a novelty, brought more subjects into the world than he sent out of it.
In the midst of this incongruous group of dwellings rose the mansion of
the Judge, towering above all its neighbors. It stood in the centre of
an inclosure of several acres, which was covered with fruit-trees. Some
of the latter had been left by the Indians, and began already to assume
the moss and inclination of age, therein forming a very marked contrast
to the infant plantations that peered over most of the picketed fences
of the village. In addition to this show of cultivation were two rows
of young Lombardy poplars, a tree but lately introduced into America,
formally lining either side of a pathway which led from a gate that
opened on the principal street to the front door of the building. The
house itself had been built entirely under the superintendence of a
certain Mr. Richard Jones, whom we have already mentioned, and who, from
his cleverness in small matters, and an entire willingness to exert his
talents, added to the circumstance of their being sisters’ children,
ordinarily superintended all the minor concerns of Marmaduke Temple.
Richard was fond of saying that this child of invention consisted of
nothing more nor less than what should form the groundwork of every
clergyman’s discourse, viz., a firstly and a lastly. He had commenced
his labors, in the first year of their residence, by erecting a tall,
gaunt edifice of wood, with its gable toward the highway. In this
shelter for it was little more, the family resided three years. By the
end of that period, Richard had completed his design. He had availed
himself, in this heavy undertaking, of the experience of a certain
wandering eastern mechanic, who, by exhibiting a few soiled plates of
English architecture, and talking learnedly of friezes, entablatures,
and particularly of the composite order, had obtained a very undue
influence over Richard’s taste in everything that pertained to that
branch of the fine arts. Not that Mr. Jones did not affect to consider
Hiram Doolittle a perfect empiric in his profession, being in the
constant habit of listening to his treatises on architecture with a
kind of indulgent smile; yet, either from an inability to oppose them
by anything plausible from his own stores of learning or from secret
admiration, Richard generally submitted to the arguments of his
co-adjutor. Together, they had not only erected a dwelling for
Marmaduke, but they had given a fashion to the architecture of the whole
county. The composite order, Mr. Doolittle would contend, was an order
composed of many others, and was intended to be the most useful of all,
for it admitted into its construction such alterations as convenience
or circumstances might require. To this proposition Richard usually
assented; and when rival geniuses who monopolize not only all the
reputation but most of the money of a neighborhood, are of a mind, it
is not uncommon to see them lead the fashion, even in graver matters.
In the present instance, as we have already hinted, the castle, as
Judge Templeton’s dwelling was termed in common parlance, came to be
the model, in some one or other of its numerous excellences, for every
aspiring edifice within twenty miles of it.

The house itself, or the “lastly,” was of stone: large, square, and far
from uncomfortable. These were four requisites, on which Marmaduke
had insisted with a little more than his ordinary pertinacity. But
everything else was peaceably assigned to Richard and his associate.
These worthies found the material a little too solid for the tools of
their workmen, which, in General, were employed on a substance no harder
than the white pine of the adjacent mountains, a wood so proverbially
soft that it is commonly chosen by the hunters for pillows. But for this
awkward dilemma, it is probable that the ambitious tastes of our two
architects would have left us much more to do in the way of description.
Driven from the faces of the house by the obduracy of the material, they
took refuge in the porch and on the roof. The former, it was decided,
should be severely classical, and the latter a rare specimen of the
merits of the Composite order.

A roof, Richard contended, was a part of the edifice that the ancients
always endeavored to conceal, it being an excrescence in architecture
that was only to be tolerated on account of its usefulness. Besides, as
he wittily added, a chief merit in a dwelling was to present a front on
whichever side it might happen to be seen; for, as it was exposed to
all eyes in all weathers, there should be no weak flank for envy or
unneighborly criticism to assail. It was therefore decided that the
roof should be flat, and with four faces. To this arrangement, Marmaduke
objected the heavy snows that lay for months, frequently covering the
earth to a depth of three or four feet. Happily the facilities of the
composite order presented themselves to effect a compromise, and the
rafters were lengthened, so as to give a descent that should carry
off the frozen element. But, unluckily, some mistake was made in the
admeasurement of these material parts of the fabric; and, as one of the
greatest recommendations of Hiram was his ability to work by the “square
rule,” no opportunity was found of discovering the effect until the
massive timbers were raised on the four walls of the building. Then,
indeed, it was soon seen that, in defiance of all rule, the roof was
by far the most conspicuous part of the whole edifice. Richard and his
associate consoled themselves with the relief that the covering would
aid in concealing this unnatural elevation; but every shingle that was
laid only multiplied objects to look at. Richard essayed to remedy
the evil with paint, and four different colors were laid on by his own
hands. The first was a sky-blue, in the vain expectation that the eye
might be cheated into the belief it was the heavens themselves that hung
so imposingly over Marmaduke’s dwelling; the second was what he called
a “cloud-color,” being nothing more nor less than an imitation of smoke;
the third was what Richard termed an invisible green, an experiment that
did not succeed against a background of sky. Abandoning the attempt to
conceal, our architects drew upon their invention for means to ornament
the offensive shingles.

After much deliberation and two or three essays by moonlight, Richard
ended the affair by boldly covering the whole beneath a color that he
christened “sunshine,” a cheap way, as he assured his cousin the Judge,
of always keeping fair weather over his head. The platform, as well as
the caves of the house, were surmounted by gaudily painted railings, and
the genius of Hiram was exerted in the fabrication of divers urns and
mouldings, that were scattered profusely around this part of their
labors. Richard had originally a cunning expedient, by which the
chimneys were intended to be so low, and so situated, as to resemble
ornaments on the balustrades; but comfort required that the chimneys
should rise with the roof, in order that the smoke might be carried off,
and they thus became four extremely conspicuous objects in the view.

As this roof was much the most important architectural undertaking in
which Mr. Jones was ever engaged, his failure produced a correspondent
degree of mortification At first, he whispered among his acquaintances
that it proceeded from ignorance of the square rule on the part of
Hiram; but, as his eye became gradually accustomed to the object, he
grew better satisfied with his labors, and instead of apologizing for
the defects, he commenced praising the beauties of the mansion-house;
he soon found hearers, and, as wealth and comfort are at all times
attractive, it was, as has been said, made a model for imitation on
a small scale. In less than two years from its erection, he had the
pleasure of standing on the elevated platform, and of looking down on
three humble imitators of its beauty. Thus it is ever with fashion,
which even renders the faults of the great subjects of admiration.

Marmaduke bore this deformity in his dwelling with great good-nature,
and soon contrived, by his own improvements, to give an air of
respectability and comfort to his place of residence. Still, there was
much of in congruity, even immediately about the mansion-house. Although
poplars had been brought from Europe to ornament the grounds, and
willows and other trees were gradually springing up nigh the dwelling,
yet many a pile of snow betrayed the presence of the stump of a pine;
and even, in one or two instances, unsightly remnants of trees that had
been partly destroyed by fire were seen rearing their black, glistening
columns twenty or thirty feet above the pure white of the snow, These,
which in the language of the country are termed stubs, abounded in the
open fields adjacent to the village, and were accompanied, occasionally,
by the ruin of a pine or a hemlock that had been stripped of its bark,
and which waved in melancholy grandeur its naked limbs to the blast,
a skeleton of its former glory. But these and many other unpleasant
additions to the view were unseen by the delighted Elizabeth, who, as
the horses moved down the side of the mountain, saw only in gross the
cluster of houses that lay like a map at her feet; the fifty smokes that
were curling from the valley to the clouds; the frozen lake as it lay
imbedded in mountains of evergreen, with the long shadows of the pines
on its white surface, lengthening in the setting sun; the dark ribbon
of water that gushed from the outlet and was winding its way toward the
distant Chesapeake--the altered, though still remembered, scenes of her
child hood.

Five years had wrought greater changes than a century would produce in
countries where time and labor have given permanency to the works of
man. To our young hunter and the Judge the scene had less novelty;
though none ever emerge from the dark forests of that mountain, and
witness the glorious scenery of that beauteous valley, as it bursts
unexpectedly upon them, without a feeling of delight. The former cast
one admiring glance from north to south, and sank his face again beneath
the folds of his coat; while the latter contemplated, with philanthropic
pleasure, the prospect of affluence and comfort that was expanding
around him; the result of his own enterprise, and much of it the fruits
of his own industry.

The cheerful sound of sleigh-bells, however, attracted the attention of
the whole party, as they came jingling up the sides of the mountain,
at a rate that announced a powerful team and a hard driver. The bushes
which lined the highway interrupted the view, and the two sleighs were
close upon each other before either was seen.



CHAPTER IV


     “How now? whose mare’s dead? what’s the matter?”
      --Falstaff

A large lumber sleigh, drawn by four horses, was soon seen dashing
through the leafless bushes which fringed the road. The leaders were
of gray, and the pole-horses of a jet-black. Bells innumerable were
suspended from every part of the harness where one of the tinkling balls
could be placed, while the rapid movement of the equipage, in defiance
of the steep ascent, announced the desire of the driver to ring them to
the utmost. The first glance at this singular arrangement acquainted the
Judge with the character of those in the sleigh. It contained four male
figures. On one of those stools that are used at writing desks, lashed
firmly to the sides of the vehicle, was seated a little man, enveloped
in a great-coat fringed with fur, in such a manner that no part of
him was visible, except a face of an unvarying red color. There was
an habitual upward look about the head of this gentleman, as if
dissatisfied with its natural proximity to the earth; and the expression
of his countenance was that of busy care, He was the charioteer, and he
guided the mettled animals along the precipice with a fearless eye and a
steady hand, Immediately behind him, with his face toward the other two,
was a tall figure, to whose appearance not even the duplicate overcoats
which he wore, aided by the corner of a horse-blanket, could give the
appearance of strength. His face was protruding from beneath a woollen
night cap; and, when he turned to the vehicle of Marmaduke as the
sleighs approached each other, it seemed formed by nature to cut the
atmosphere with the least possible resistance. The eyes alone appeared
to create any obstacle, for from either side of his forehead their
light-blue, glassy balls projected. The sallow of his countenance was
too permanent to be affected even by the intense cold of the evening.
Opposite to this personage sat a solid, short, and square figure. No
part of his form was to be discovered through his overdress, but a face
that was illuminated by a pair of black eyes that gave the lie to every
demure feature in his countenance. A fair, jolly wig furnished a neat
and rounded outline to his visage, and he, well as the other two, wore
marten-skin caps. The fourth was a meek-looking, long-visaged man,
without any other protection from the cold than that which was furnished
by a black surcoat, made with some little formality, but which
was rather threadbare and rusty. He wore a hat of extremely decent
proportions, though frequent brushing had quite destroyed its nap. His
face was pale, and withal a little melancholy, or what might be termed
of a studious complexion. The air had given it, just now, a light
and somewhat feverish flush, The character of his whole appearance,
especially contrasted to the air of humor in his next companion, was
that of habitual mental care. No sooner had the two sleighs approached
within speaking distance, than the driver of this fantastic equipage
shouted aloud,

“Draw up in the quarry--draw up, thou king of the Greeks; draw into the
quarry, Agamemnon, or I shall never be able to pass you. Welcome home,
Cousin ‘Duke--welcome, welcome, black-eyed Bess. Thou seest, Marina duke
that I have taken the field with an assorted cargo, to do thee honor.
Monsieur Le Quoi has come out with only one cap; Old Fritz would not
stay to finish the bottle; and Mr. Grant has got to put the ‘lastly’ to
his sermon, yet. Even all the horses would come--by the-bye, Judge, I
must sell the blacks for you immediately; they interfere, and the nigh
one is a bad goer in double harness. I can get rid of them to--”

“Sell what thou wilt, Dickon,” interrupted the cheerful voice of the
Judge, “so that thou leavest me my daughter and my lands. And Fritz,
my old friend, this is a kind compliment, indeed, for seventy to pay to
five-and-forty. Monsieur Le Quoi, I am your servant. Mr. Grant,” lifting
his cap, “I feel indebted to your attention. Gentlemen, I make you
acquainted with my child. Yours are names with which she is very
familiar.”

“Velcome, velcome Tchooge,” said the elder of the party, with a strong
German accent. “Miss Petsy vill owe me a kiss.”

“And cheerfully will I pay It, my good sir,” cried the soft voice of
Elizabeth; which sounded, in the clear air of the hills. Like tones of
silver, amid the loud cries of Richard. “I have always a kiss for my old
friend. Major Hartmann.”

By this time the gentleman in the front seat, who had been addressed
as Monsieur Le Quoi, had arisen with some difficulty, owing to the
impediment of his overcoats, and steadying himself by placing one hand
on the stool of the charioteer, with the other he removed his cap, and
bowing politely to the Judge and profoundly to Elizabeth, he paid his
compliments.

“Cover thy poll, Gaul, cover thy poll,” cried the driver, who was Mr.
Richard Jones; “cover thy poll, or the frost will pluck out the remnant
of thy locks. Had the hairs on the head of Absalom been as scarce as
thine, he might have been living to this day.” The jokes of Richard
never failed of exciting risibility, for he uniformly did honor to his
own wit; and he enjoyed a hearty laugh on the present occasion, while
Mr. Le Quoi resumed his seat with a polite reciprocation in his mirth.
The clergyman, for such was the office of Mr. Grant, modestly, though
quite affectionately, exchanged his greetings with the travellers also,
when Richard prepared to turn the heads of his horses homeward.

It was in the quarry alone that he could effect this object, without
ascending to the summit of the mountain. A very considerable excavation
had been made in the side of the hill, at the point where Richard
had succeeded in stopping the sleighs, from which the stones used for
building in the village were ordinarily quarried, and in which he now
attempted to turn his team. Passing itself was a task of difficulty, and
frequently of danger, in that narrow road; but Richard had to meet
the additional risk of turning his four-in-hand. The black civilly
volunteered his services to take off the leaders, and the Judge very
earnestly seconded the measure with his advice. Richard treated both
proposals with great disdain.

“Why, and wherefore. Cousin ‘Duke?” he exclaimed, a little angrily; “the
horses are gentle as lambs. You know that I broke the leaders myself,
and the pole-horses are too near my whip to be restive. Here is Mr. Le
Quoi, now, who must know something about driving, because he has rode
out so often with me; I will leave it to Mr. Le Quoi whether there is
any danger.”

It was not in the nature of the Frenchman to disappoint expectations
so confidently formed; although he cat looking down the precipice which
fronted him, as Richard turned his leaders into the quarry, with a pair
of eyes that stood out like those of lobsters. The German’s muscles were
unmoved, but his quick sight scanned each movement. Mr. Grant placed his
hands on the side of the sleigh, in preparation for a spring, but moral
timidity deterred him from taking the leap that bodily apprehension
strongly urged him to attempt.

Richard, by a sudden application of the whip, succeeded in forcing the
leaders into the snow-bank that covered the quarry; but the instant that
the impatient animals suffered by the crust, through which they broke
at each step, they positively refused to move an inch farther in that
direction. On the contrary, finding that the cries and blows of their
driver were redoubled at this juncture, the leaders backed upon the
pole-horses, who in their turn backed the sleigh. Only a single log lay
above the pile which upheld the road on the side toward the valley, and
this was now buried in the snow. The sleigh was easily breed across so
slight an impediment, and before Richard became conscious of his danger
one-half of the vehicle Was projected over a precipice, which fell
perpendicularly more than a hundred feet. The Frenchman, who by his
position had a full view of their threatened flight, instinctively threw
his body as far forward as possible, and cried,

“Oh! mon cher Monsieur Deeck! mon Dieu! que faites vous!”

“Donner und blitzen, Richart!” exclaimed the veteran German, looking
over the side of the sleigh with unusual emotion, “put you will preak
ter sleigh and kilt ter horses!”

“Good Mr. Jones,” said the clergyman, “be prudent, good sir--be
careful.”

“Get up, obstinate devils!” cried Richard, catching a bird’s-eye view of
his situation, and in his eagerness to move forward kicking the stool
on which he sat--“get up, I say--Cousin ‘Duke, I shall have to sell the
grays too; they are the worst broken horses--Mr. Le Quoi” Richard was
too much agitated to regard his pronunciation, of which he was commonly
a little vain: “Monsieur La Quoi, pray get off my leg; you hold my leg
so tight that it’s no wonder the horses back.”

“Merciful Providence!” exclaimed the Judge; “they will be all killed!”
 Elizabeth gave a piercing shriek, and the black of Agamemnon’s face
changed to a muddy white.

At this critical moment, the young hunter, who during the salutations of
the parties had sat in rather sullen silence, sprang from the sleigh of
Marmaduke to the heads of the refractory leaders. The horses, which
were yet suffering under the injudicious and somewhat random blows
of Richard, were dancing up and down with that ominous movement that
threatens a sudden and uncontrollable start, still pressing backward.
The youth gave the leaders a powerful jerk, and they plunged aside, and
re-entered the road in the position in which they were first halted.
The sleigh was whirled from its dangerous position, and upset, with
the runners outward. The German and the divine were thrown, rather
unceremoniously, into the highway, but without danger to their bones.
Richard appeared in the air, describing the segment of a circle, of
which the reins were the radii, and landed, at the distance of some
fifteen feet, in that snow-bank which the horses had dreaded, right end
uppermost. Here, as he instinctively grasped the reins, as drowning
men seize at straws, he admirably served the purpose of an anchor. The
Frenchman, who was on his legs, in the act of springing from the sleigh,
took an aerial flight also, much in the attitude which boys assume when
they play leap-frog, and, flying off in a tangent to the curvature of
his course, came into the snow-bank head foremost, w-here he remained,
exhibiting two lathy legs on high, like scarecrows waving in a
corn-field. Major Hartmann, whose self-possession had been admirably
preserved during the whole evolution, was the first of the party that
gained his feet and his voice.

“Ter deyvel, Richart!” he exclaimed in a voice half serious,
half-comical, “put you unload your sleigh very hautily!”

It may be doubtful whether the attitude in which Mr. Grant continued
for an instant after his overthrow was the one into which he had been
thrown, or was assumed, in humbling himself before the Power that he
reverenced, in thanksgiving at his escape. When he rose from his knees,
he began to gaze about him, with anxious looks, after the welfare of
his companions, while every joint in his body trembled with nervous
agitation. There was some confusion in the faculties of Mr. Jones also:
but as the mist gradually cleared from before his eyes, he saw that
all was safe, and, with an air of great self-satisfaction, he cried,
“Well--that was neatly saved, anyhow!--it was a lucky thought in me
to hold on to the reins, or the fiery devils would have been over the
mountain by this time. How well I recovered myself, ‘Duke! Another
moment would have been too late; but I knew just the spot where to touch
the off-leader; that blow under his right flank, and the sudden jerk I
gave the rein, brought them round quite in rule, I must own myself.” *

  * The spectators, from immemorial usage, have a right to laugh at the
    casualties of a sleigh ride; and the Judge was no sooner certain that
    no one was done than he made full use of the privilege.

“Thou jerk! thou recover thyself, Dickon!” he said; “but for that brave
lad yonder, thou and thy horses, or rather mine, would have been dashed
to pieces--but where is Monsieur Le Quoi?”

“Oh! mon cher Juge! mon ami!” cried a smothered voice, “praise be God, I
live; vill you, Mister Agamemnon, be pleas come down ici, and help me on
my leg?”

The divine and the negro seized the incarcerated Gaul by his legs and
extricated him from a snow-bank of three feet in depth, whence his voice
had sounded as from the tombs. The thoughts of Mr. Le Quoi, immediately
on his liberation, were not extremely collected; and, when he reached the
light, he threw his eyes upward, in order to examine the distance he
had fallen. His good-humor returned, however, with a knowledge of his
safety, though it was some little time before he clearly comprehended
the case.

“What, monsieur,” said Richard, who was busily assisting the black
in taking off the leaders; “are you there? I thought I saw you flying
toward the top of the mountain just now.”

“Praise be God, I no fly down into the lake,” returned the Frenchman,
with a visage that was divided between pain, occasioned by a few large
scratches that he had received in forcing his head through the crust,
and the look of complaisance that seemed natural to his pliable
features.

“Ah! mon cher Mister Deeck, vat you do next?--dere be noting you no
try.”

“The next thing, I trust, will be to learn to drive,” said the Judge,
who bad busied himself in throwing the buck, together with several other
articles of baggage, from his own sleigh into the snow; “here are seats
for you all, gentlemen; the evening grows piercingly cold, and the hour
approaches for the service of Mr. Grant; we will leave friend Jones to
repair the damages, with the assistance of Agamemnon, and hasten to a
warm fire. Here, Dickon, are a few articles of Bess’ trumpery, that you
can throw into your sleigh when ready; and there is also a deer of my
taking, that I will thank you to bring. Aggy! remember that there will
be a visit from Santa Claus * to-night.”

  * The periodical visits of St. Nicholas, or Santa Claus, as he is
    termed, were never forgotten among the inhabitants of New York, until
    the emigration from New England brought in the opinions and usages of
    the Puritans, like the “bon homme de Noel.” he arrives at each
    Christmas.

The black grinned, conscious of the bribe that was offered him for
silence on the subject of the deer, while Richard, without in the least
waiting for the termination of his cousin’s speech, began his reply:

“Learn to drive, sayest thou, Cousin ‘Duke? Is there a man in the county
who knows more of horse-flesh than myself? Who broke in the filly, that
no one else dare mount, though your coachman did pretend that he had
tamed her before I took her in hand; but anybody could see that he
lied--he was a great liar, that John--what’s that, a buck?” Richard
abandoned the horses, and ran to the spot where Marmaduke had thrown the
deer, “It is a buck! I am amazed! Yes, here are two holes in him, he
has fired both barrels, and hit him each time, Egod! how Marmaduke will
brag! he is a prodigious bragger about any small matter like this now;
well, to think that ‘Duke has killed a buck before Christmas! There will
be no such thing as living with him--they are both bad shots though,
mere chance--mere chance--now, I never fired twice at a cloven foot in
my life--it is hit or miss with me--dead or run away-had it been a bear,
or a wild-cat, a man might have wanted both barrels. Here! you Aggy! how
far off was the Judge when this buck was shot?”

“Oh! massa Richard, maybe a ten rod,” cried the black, bending under one
of the horses, with the pretence of fastening a buckle, but in reality
to conceal the grin that opened a mouth from ear to ear.

“Ten rod!” echoed the other; “way, Aggy, the deer I Killed last winter
‘was at twenty--yes! if anything it was nearer thirty than twenty. I
wouldn’t shoot at a deer at ten rod: besides, you may remember, Aggy, I
only fired once.”

“Yes, massa Richard, I ‘member ‘em! Natty Bumppo fire t’oder gun. You
know, sir, all ‘e folks say Natty kill him.”

“The folks lie, you black devil!” exclaimed Richard in great heat. “I
have not shot even a gray squirrel these four years, to which that old
rascal has not laid claim, or some one else for him. This is a damned
envious world that we live in--people are always for dividing the credit
at a thing, in order to bring down merit to their own level. Now they
have a story about the Patent,* that Hiram Doolittle helped to plan
the steeple to St. Paul’s; when Hiram knows that it is entirely mine;
a little taken front a print of his namesake in London, I own; but
essentially, as to all points of genius, my own.”

  * The grants of land, made either by the crown or the state, were but
    letters patent under the great seal, and the term “patent” is usually
    applied to any district of extent thus conceded; though under the
    crown’, manorial rights being often granted with the soil, in the
    older counties the word “manor” is frequently used.  There are many
    manors in New York though all political and judicial rights have
    ceased.

“I don’t know where he come from,” said the black, losing every mark of
humor in an expression of admiration, “but eb’rybody say, he wounerful
handsome.”

“And well they may say so, Aggy,” cried Richard, leaving the buck and
walking up to the negro with the air of a man who has new interest
awakened within him, “I think I may say, without bragging, that it is
the handsomest and the most scientific country church in America. I
know that the Connecticut settlers talk about their West Herfield
meeting-house; but I never believe more than half what they say, they
are such unconscionable braggers. Just as you have got a thing done, if
they see it likely to be successful, they are always for interfering;
and then it’s tea to one but they lay claim to half, or even all of
the credit. You may remember, Aggy, when I painted the sign of the bold
dragoon for Captain Hollister there was that fellow, who was about town
laying brick-dust on the houses, came one day and offered to mix what
I call the streaky black, for the tail and mane; and then, because it
looks like horse-hair, he tells everybody that the sign was painted by
himself and Squire Jones. If Marmaduke don’t send that fellow off the
Patent, he may ornament his village with his own hands for me,” Here
Richard paused a moment, and cleared his throat by a loud hem, while
the negro, who was all this time busily engaged in preparing the sleigh,
proceeded with his work in respectful silence. Owing to the religious
scruples of the Judge, Aggy was the servant of Richard, who had his
services for a time,* and who, of course, commanded a legal claim to the
respect of the young negro. But when any dispute between his lawful and
his real master occurred, the black felt too much deference for both to
express any opinion.

  * The manumission of the slaves in New York has been gradual.  When
    public opinion became strong in their favor, then grew up a custom of
    buying the services of a slave, for six or eight years, with a
    condition to liberate him at the end of the period.  Then the law
    provided that all born after a certain day should be free, the males
    at twenty--eight and the females at twenty-five.  After this the owner
    was obliged to cause his servants to be taught to read and write
    before they reached the age of eighteen, and, finally, the few that
    remained were all unconditionally liberated in 1826, or after the
    publication of this tale.  It was quite usual for men more or less
    connected with the Quakers, who never held slaves to adopt the first
    expedient.

In the mean while, Richard continued watching the negro as he fastened
buckle after buckle, until, stealing a look of consciousness toward the
other, he continued: “Now, if that young man who was in your sleigh is
a real Connecticut settler, he will be telling everybody how he saved my
horses, when, if he had let them alone for half a minute longer, I would
have brought them in much better, without upsetting, with the whip amid
rein--it spoils a horse to give him his heal, I should not wonder if
I had to sell the whole team, just for that one jerk he gave them,”
 Richard paused and hemmed; for his conscience smote him a little for
censuring a man who had just saved his life. “Who is the lad, Aggy--I
don’t remember to have seen him before?”

The black recollected the hint about Santa Claus; and, while he briefly
explained how they had taken up the person in question on the top of
the mountain, he forbore to add anything concerning the accident or the
wound, only saying that he believed the youth was a stranger. It was so
usual for men of the first rank to take into their sleighs any one they
found toiling through the snow, that Richard was perfectly satisfied
with this explanation. He heard Aggy with great attention, and then
remarked: “Well, if the lad has not been spoiled by the people in
Templeton he may be a modest young man, and, as he certainly meant well,
I shall take some notice of him--perhaps he is land-hunting--I say,
Aggy, maybe he is out hunting?”

“Eh! yes, massa Richard,” said the black, a little confused; for, as
Richard did all the flogging, he stood in great terror of his master, in
the main--“Yes, sir, I b’lieve he be.”

“Had he a pack and an axe?”

“No, sir, only he rifle.”

“Rifle!” exclaimed Richard, observing the confusion of The negro,
which now amounted to terror. “By Jove, he killed the deer! I knew that
Marmaduke couldn’t kill a buck on the jump--how was it, Aggy? Tell
me all about it, and I’ll roast ‘Duke quicker than he can roast his
saddle--how was it, Aggy? the lad shot the buck, and the Judge bought
it, ha! and he is taking the youth down to get the pay?”

The pleasure of this discovery had put Richard in such a good humor,
that the negro’s fears in some measure vanished, and he remembered the
stocking of Santa Claus. After a gulp or two, he made out to reply;

“You forgit a two shot, sir?”

“Don’t lie, you black rascal!” cried Richard, stepping on the snow-bank
to measure the distance from his lash to the negro’s back; “speak
truth, or I trounce you.” While speaking, the stock was slowly rising
in Richard’s right hand, and the lash drawing through his left, in the
scientific manner with which drummers apply the cat; and Agamemnon,
after turning each side of himself toward his master, and finding both
equally unwilling to remain there, fairly gave in. In a very few words
he made his master acquainted with the truth, at the same time earnestly
conjuring Richard to protect him from the displeasure of the lodge
“I’ll do it, boy, I’ll do it,” cried the other, rubbing his hands with
delight; “say nothing, but leave me to manage Duke. I have a great mind
to leave the deer on the hill, and to make the fellow send for his own
carcass; but no, I will let Marmaduke tell a few bounces about it before
I come out upon him. Come, hurry in, Aggy, I must help to dress the
lad’s wound; this Yankee* doctor knows nothing of surgery--I had to hold
out Milligan’s leg for him, while he cut it off.”

  * In America the term Yankee is of local meaning.  It is thought to be
    derived from the manner in which the Indians of New England pronounced
    the word “English,” or “Yengeese.” New York being originally a Dutch
    province, the term of course was not known there, and Farther south
    different dialects among the natives themselves probably produced a
    different pronunciation Marmaduke and his cousin, being Pennsylvanians
    by birth, were not Yankees in the American sense of the word.

Richard was now seated on the stool again, and, the black taking the
hind seat, the steeds were put in motion toward home, As they dashed
down the hill on a fast trot, the driver occasionally turned his face to
Aggy, and continued speaking; for, notwithstanding their recent rupture,
the most perfect cordiality was again existing between them, “This goes
to prove that I turned the horses with the reins, for no man who is
shot in the right shoulder can have strength enough to bring round such
obstinate devils. I knew I did it from the first; but I did not want
to multiply words with Marmaduke about it.--Will you bite, you
villain?--hip, boys, hip! Old Natty, too, that is the best of it!--Well,
well--‘Duke will say no more about my deer--and the Judge fired both
barrels, and hit nothing but a poor lad who was behind a pine-tree. I
must help that quack to take out the buckshot for the poor fellow.” In
this manner Richard descended the mountain; the bells ringing, and his
tongue going, until they entered the village, when the whole attention
of the driver was devoted to a display of his horsemanship, to the
admiration of all the gaping women and children who thronged the windows
to witness the arrival of their landlord and his daughter.



CHAPTER V


     “Nathaniel’s coat, sir, was not fully made,
     And Gabriel’s pumps were all unpink’d i’ th’ heel;
     There was no link to color Peter’s hat,
     And Walter’s dagger was not come from sheathing;
     There were none fine, but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory.”
      --Shakespeare.

After winding along the side of the mountain, the road, on reaching the
gentle declivity which lay at the base of the hill, turned at a right
angle to its former course, and shot down an inclined plane, directly
into the village of Templeton. The rapid little stream that we have
already mentioned was crossed by a bridge of hewn timber, which
manifested, by its rude construction and the unnecessary size of its
framework, both the value of Labor and the abundance of materials. This
little torrent, whose dark waters gushed over the limestones that
lined its bottom, was nothing less than one of the many sources of the
Susquehanna; a river to which the Atlantic herself has extended an arm
in welcome. It was at this point that the powerful team of Mr. Jones
brought him up to the more sober steeds of our travellers. A small hill
was risen, and Elizabeth found herself at once amidst the incongruous
dwellings of the village. The street was of the ordinary width,
notwithstanding the eye might embrace, in one view, thousands and tens
of thousands of acres, that were yet tenanted only by the beasts of the
forest. But such had been the will of her father, and such had also met
the wishes of his followers. To them the road that made the most rapid
approaches to the condition of the old, or, as they expressed it, the
down countries, was the most pleasant; and surely nothing could look
more like civilization than a city, even if it lay in a wilderness! The
width of the street, for so it was called, might have been one hundred
feet; but the track for the sleighs was much more limited. On either
side of the highway were piled huge heaps of logs, that were daily
increasing rather than diminishing in size, notwithstanding the enormous
fires that might be seen through every window.

The last object at which Elizabeth gazed when they renewed their
journey, after their encountre with Richard, was the sun, as it expanded
in the refraction of the horizon, and over whose disk the dark umbrage
of a pine was stealing, while it slowly sank behind the western hills.
But his setting rays darted along the openings of the mountain he was
on, and lighted the shining covering of the birches, until their smooth
and glossy coats nearly rivalled the mountain sides in color. The
outline of each dark pine was delineated far in the depths of the
forest, and the rocks, too smooth and too perpendicular to retain the
snow that had fallen, brightened, as if smiling at the leave-taking of
the luminary. But at each step as they descended, Elizabeth observed
that they were leaving the day behind them. Even the heartless but
bright rays of a December sun were missed as they glided into the cold
gloom of the valley. Along the summits of the mountains in the eastern
range, it is true, the light still lingered, receding step by step from
the earth into the clouds that were gathering with the evening mist,
about the limited horizon, but the frozen lake lay without a shadow on
its bosom; the dwellings were becoming already gloomy and indistinct,
and the wood-cutters were shouldering their axes and preparing to
enjoy, throughout the long evening before them, the comforts of those
exhilarating fires that their labor had been supplying with fuel.
They paused only to gaze at the passing sleighs, to lift their caps to
Marmaduke, to exchange familiar nods with Richard, and each disappeared
in his dwelling. The paper curtains dropped behind our travellers in
every window, shutting from the air even the firelight of the cheerful
apartments, and when the horses of her father turned with a rapid whirl
into the open gate of the mansion-house, and nothing stood before her
but the cold dreary stone walls of the building, as she approached them
through an avenue of young and leafless poplars, Elizabeth felt as if
all the loveliness of the mountain-view had vanished like the fancies of
a dream. Marmaduke retained so much of his early habits as to reject
the use of bells, but the equipage of Mr. Jones came dashing through the
gate after them, sending its jingling sounds through every cranny of the
building, and in a moment the dwelling was in an uproar.

On a stone platform, of rather small proportions, considering the size
of the building, Richard and Hiram had, conjointly, reared four little
columns of wood, which in their turn supported the shingled roofs of the
portico--this was the name that Mr. Jones had thought proper to give to
a very plain, covered entrance. The ascent to the platform was by five
or six stone steps, somewhat hastily laid together, and which the frost
had already begun to move from their symmetrical positions, But the
evils of a cold climate and a superficial construction did not end
here. As the steps lowered the platform necessarily fell also, and the
foundations actually left the super structure suspended in the air,
leaving an open space of a foot between the base of the pillars and the
stones on which they had originally been placed. It was lucky for the
whole fabric that the carpenter, who did the manual part of the labor,
had fastened the canopy of this classic entrance so firmly to the side
of the house that, when the base deserted the superstructure in the
manner we have described, and the pillars, for the want of a foundation,
were no longer of service to support the roof, the roof was able to
uphold the pillars. Here was, indeed, an unfortunate gap left in the
ornamental part of Richard’s column; but, like the window in Aladdin’s
palace, it seemed only left in order to prove the fertility of its
master’s resources. The composite order again offered its advantages,
and a second edition of the base was given, as the booksellers say,
with additions and improvements. It was necessarily larger, and it was
properly ornamented with mouldings; still the steps continued to yield,
and, at the moment when Elizabeth returned to her father’s door, a few
rough wedges were driven under the pillars to keep them steady, and to
prevent their weight from separating them from the pediment which they
ought to have supported.

From the great door which opened into the porch emerged two or three
female domestics, and one male. The latter was bareheaded, but evidently
more dressed than usual, and on the whole was of so singular a formation
and attire as to deserve a more minute description. He was about five
feet in height, of a square and athletic frame, with a pair of shoulders
that would have fitted a grenadier. His low stature was rendered the
more striking by a bend forward that he was in the habit of assuming,
for no apparent reason, unless it might be to give greater freedom
to his arms, in a particularly sweeping swing, that they constantly
practised when their master was in motion. His face was long, of a
fair complexion, burnt to a fiery red; with a snub nose, cocked into an
inveterate pug; a mouth of enormous dimensions, filled with fine teeth;
and a pair of blue eyes, that seemed to look about them on surrounding
objects with habitual contempt. His head composed full one-fourth of his
whole length, and the cue that depended from its rear occupied another.
He wore a coat of very light drab cloth, with buttons as large as
dollars, bearing the impression of a “foul anchor.” The skirts
were extremely long, reaching quite to the calf, and were broad in
proportion. Beneath, there were a vest and breeches of red plush,
somewhat worn and soiled. He had shoes with large buckles, and stockings
of blue and white stripes.

This odd-looking figure reported himself to be a native of the county of
Cornwall, in the island of Great Britain. His boyhood had passed in
the neighborhood of the tin mines, and his youth as the cabin-boy of
a smuggler, between Falmouth and Guernsey. From this trade he had been
impressed into the service of his king, and, for the want of a better,
had been taken into the cabin, first as a servant, and finally as
steward to the captain. Here he acquired the art of making chowder,
lobster, and one or two other sea-dishes, and, as he was fond of saying,
had an opportunity of seeing the world. With the exception of one or two
outports in France, and an occasional visit to Portsmouth, Plymouth, and
Deal, he had in reality seen no more of mankind, however, than if he had
been riding a donkey in one of his native mines. But, being discharged
from the navy at the peace of ‘83, he declared that, as he had seen all
the civilized parts of the earth, he was inclined to make a trip to the
wilds of America We will not trace him in his brief wanderings, under
the influence of that spirit of emigration that some times induces a
dapper Cockney to quit his home, and lands him, before the sound
of Bow-bells is out of his ears, within the roar of the cataract of
Niagara; but shall only add that at a very early day, even before
Elizabeth had been sent to school, he had found his way into the family
of Marmaduke Temple, where, owing to a combination of qualities that
will be developed in the course of the tale, he held, under Mr.
Jones, the office of major-domo. The name of this worthy was Benjamin
Penguillan, according to his own pronunciation; but, owing to a
marvellous tale that he was in the habit of relating, concerning the
length of time he had to labor to keep his ship from sinking after
Rodney’s victory, he had universally acquired the nick name of Ben Pump.

By the side of Benjamin, and pressing forward as if a little jealous
of her station, stood a middle-aged woman, dressed in calico, rather
violently contrasted in color with a tall, meagre, shapeless figure,
sharp features, and a somewhat acute expression of her physiognomy. Her
teeth were mostly gone, and what did remain were of a tight yellow. The
skin of her nose was drawn tightly over the member, to hang in large
wrinkles in her cheeks and about her mouth. She took snuff in such
quantities as to create the impression that she owed the saffron of
her lips and the adjacent parts to this circumstance; but it was the
unvarying color of her whole face. She presided over the female part
of the domestic arrangements, in the capacity of housekeeper; was a
spinster, and bore the name of Remarkable Pettibone. To Elizabeth she
was an entire stranger, having been introduced into the family since the
death of her mother.

In addition to these, were three or four subordinate menials, mostly
black, some appearing at the principal door, and some running from the
end of the building, where stood the entrance to the cellar-kitchen.

Besides these, there was a general rush from Richard’s kennel,
accompanied with every canine tone from the howl of the wolf-dog to
the petulant bark of the terrier. The master received their boisterous
salutations with a variety of imitations from his own throat, when the
dogs, probably from shame of being outdone, ceased their out-cry. One
stately, powerful mastiff, who wore round his neck a brass collar,
with “M. T.” engraved in large letters on the rim, alone was silent.
He walked majestically, amid the confusion, to the side of the Judge,
where, receiving a kind pat or two, he turned to Elizabeth, who even
stooped to kiss him, as she called him kindly by the name of “Old
Brave.” The animal seemed to know her, as she ascended the steps,
supported by Monsieur Le Quoi and her father, in order to protect
her from falling on the ice with which they were covered. He looked
wistfully after her figure, and when the door closed on the whole party,
he laid himself in a kennel that was placed nigh by, as if conscious
that the house contained some thing of additional value to guard.

Elizabeth followed her father, who paused a moment to whisper a message
to one of his domestics, into a large hall, that was dimly lighted by
two candies, placed in high, old-fashioned, brass candlesticks. The door
closed, and the party were at once removed from an atmosphere that was
nearly at zero, to one of sixty degrees above. In the centre of the hall
stood an enormous stove, the sides of which appeared to be quivering
with heat; from which a large, straight pipe, leading through the
ceiling above, carried off the smoke. An iron basin, containing water,
was placed on this furnace, for such only it could be called, in order
to preserve a proper humidity in the apartment. The room was carpeted,
and furnished with convenient, substantial furniture, some of which was
brought from the city, the remainder having been manufactured by the
mechanics of Templeton. There was a sideboard of mahogany, inlaid with
ivory, and bearing enormous handles of glittering brass, and groaning
under the piles of silver plate. Near it stood a set of prodigious
tables, made of the wild cherry, to imitate the imported wood of the
sideboard, but plain and without ornament of any kind. Opposite to these
stood a smaller table, formed from a lighter-colored wood, through the
grains of which the wavy lines of the curled maple of the mountains
were beautifully undulating. Near to this, in a corner, stood a heavy,
old-fashioned, brass-faced clock, incased in a high box, of the dark
hue of the black walnut from the seashore. An enormous settee, or sofa,
covered with light chintz, stretched along the walls for nearly twenty
feet on one side of the hail; and chairs of wood, painted a light
yellow, with black lines that were drawn by no very steady hand, were
ranged opposite, and in the intervals between the other pieces of
furniture. A Fahrenheit’s thermometer in a mahogany case, and with a
barometer annexed, was hung against the wall, at some little distance
from the stove, which Benjamin consulted, every half hour, with
prodigious exactitude. Two small glass chandeliers were suspended at
equal distances between the stove and outer doors, one of which opened
at each end of the hall, and gilt lustres were affixed to the frame
work of the numerous side-doors that led from the apartment. Some little
display in architecture had been made in constructing these frames and
casings, which were surmounted with pediments, that bore each a little
pedestal in its centre; on these pedestals were small busts in blacked
plaster-of-Paris. The style of the pedestals as well as the selection of
the busts were all due to the taste of Mr. Jones. On one stood Homer, a
most striking likeness, Richard affirmed, “as any one might see, for it
was blind,” Another bore the image of a smooth-visaged gentleman with a
pointed beard, whom he called Shakespeare. A third ornament was an
urn, which; from its shape, Richard was accustomed to say, intended to
represent itself as holding the ashes of Dido. A fourth was certainly
old Franklin, in his cap and spectacles. A fifth as surely bore
the dignified composure of the face of Washington. A sixth was a
nondescript, representing “a man with a shirt-collar open,” to use the
language of Richard, “with a laurel on his head-it was Julius Caesar or
Dr. Faustus; there were good reasons for believing either.”

The walls were hung with a dark lead-colored English paper that
represented Britannia weeping over the tomb of Wolfe, The hero himself
stood at a little distance from the mourning goddess, and at the edge of
the paper. Each width contained the figure, with the slight exception of
one arm of the general, which ran over on the next piece, so that when
Richard essayed, with his own hands, to put together this delicate
outline, some difficulties occurred that prevented a nice conjunction;
and Britannia had reason to lament, in addition to the loss of her
favorite’s life, numberless cruel amputations of his right arm.

The luckless cause of these unnatural divisions now announced his
presence in the halt by a loud crack of his whip.

“Why, Benjamin! you Ben Pump! is this the manner in which you receive
the heiress?” he cried. “Excuse him, Cousin Elizabeth. The arrangements
were too intricate to be trusted to every one; but now I am here, things
will go on better.--Come, light up, Mr. Penguillan, light up, light up,
and let us see One another’s faces. Well, ‘Duke, I have brought home
your deer; what is to be done with it, ha?”

“By the Lord, squire,” commenced Benjamin, in reply, first giving his
mouth a wipe with the back of his hand, “if this here thing had been
ordered sum’at earlier in the day, it might have been got up, d’ye see,
to your liking. I had mustered all hands and was exercising candles,
when you hove in sight; but when the women heard your bells they started
an end, as if they were riding the boat swain’s colt; and if-so-be there
is that man in the house who can bring up a parcel of women when they
have got headway on them, until they’ve run out the end of their rope,
his name is not Benjamin Pump. But Miss Betsey here must have altered
more than a privateer in disguise, since she has got on her woman’s
duds, if she will take offence with an old fellow for the small matter
of lighting a few candles.”

Elizabeth and her father continued silent, for both experienced the same
sensation on entering the hall. The former had resided one year in the
building before she left home for school, and the figure of its lamented
mistress was missed by both husband and child.

But candles had been placed in the chandeliers and lustres, and the
attendants were so far recovered from surprise as to recollect their
use; the oversight was immediately remedied, and in a minute the
apartment was in a blaze of light.

The slight melancholy of our heroine and her father was banished by
this brilliant interruption; and the whole party began to lay aside the
numberless garments they had worn in the air.

During this operation Richard kept up a desultory dialogue with the
different domestics, occasionally throwing out a remark to the Judge
concerning the deer; but as his conversation at such moments was much
like an accompaniment on a piano, a thing that is heard without being
attended to, we will not undertake the task of recording his diffuse
discourse,

The instant that Remarkable Pettibone had executed her portion of the
labor in illuminating, she returned to a position near Elizabeth, with
the apparent motive of receiving the clothes that the other threw aside,
but in reality to examine, with an air of curiosity--not unmixed with
jealousy--the appearance of the lady who was to supplant her in the
administration of their domestic economy. The housekeeper felt a little
appalled, when, after cloaks, coats, shawls, and socks had been taken
off in succession, the large black hood was removed, and the dark
ringlets, shining like the raven’s wing, fell from her head, and left
the sweet but commanding features of the young lady exposed to
view. Nothing could be fairer and more spotless than the forehead of
Elizabeth, and preserve the appearance of life and health. Her nose
would have been called Grecian, but for a softly rounded swell, that
gave in character to the feature what it lost in beauty. Her mouth,
at first sight, seemed only made for love; but, the instant that its
muscles moved, every expression that womanly dignity could utter played
around it with the flexibility of female grace. It spoke not only to the
ear, but to the eye. So much, added to a form of exquisite proportions,
rather full and rounded for her years, and of the tallest medium height,
she inherited from her mother. Even the color of her eye, the arched
brows, and the long silken lashes, came from the same source; but
its expression was her father’s. Inert and composed, it was soft,
benevolent, and attractive; but it could be roused, and that without
much difficulty. At such moments it was still beautiful, though it was a
little severe. As the last shawl fell aside, and she stood dressed in a
rich blue riding-habit, that fitted her form with the nicest exactness;
her cheeks burning with roses, that bloomed the richer for the heat
of the hall, and her eyes lightly suffused with moisture that rendered
their ordinary beauty more dazzling, and with every feature of her
speaking countenance illuminated by the lights that flared around her,
Remarkable felt that her own power had ended.

The business of unrobing had been simultaneous. Marmaduke appeared in
a suit of plain, neat black; Monsieur Le Quoi in a coat of snuff-color,
covering a vest of embroidery, with breeches, and silk stockings, and
buckles--that were commonly thought to be of paste. Major Hartmann wore
a coat of sky-blue, with large brass buttons, a club wig, and boots;
and Mr. Richard Jones had set off his dapper little form in a frock of
bottle-green, with bullet-buttons, by one of which the sides were united
over his well-rounded waist, opening above, so as to show a jacket of
red cloth, with an undervest of flannel, faced with green velvet, and
below, so as to exhibit a pair of buckskin breeches, with long, soiled,
white top-boots, and spurs; one of the latter a little bent, from its
recent attacks on the stool.

When the young lady had extricated herself from her garments, she was
at liberty to gaze about her, and to examine not only the household
over which she was to preside, but also the air and manner in which
the domestic arrangements were conducted. Although there was much
incongruity in the furniture and appearance of the hall, there was
nothing mean. The floor was carpeted, even in its remotest corners.
The brass candlesticks, the gilt lustres, and the glass chandeliers,
whatever might be their keeping as to propriety and taste, were
admirably kept as to all the purposes of use and comfort. They were
clean and glittering in the strong light of the apartment.

Compared with the chill aspect of the December night without, the warmth
and brilliancy of the apartment produced an effect that was not unlike
enchantment. Her eye had not time to detect, in detail, the little
errors which in truth existed, but was glancing around her in de light,
when an object arrested her view that was in strong contrast to the
smiling faces and neatly attired person ages who had thus assembled to
do honor to the heiress of Templeton.

In a corner of the hall near the grand entrance stood the young hunter,
unnoticed, and for the moment apparently forgotten. But even the
forgetfulness of the Judge, which, under the influence of strong
emotion, had banished the recollection of the wound of this stranger,
seemed surpassed by the absence of mind in the youth himself. On
entering the apartment, he had mechanically lifted his cap, and exposed
a head covered with hair that rivalled, in color and gloss, the locks of
Elizabeth. Nothing could have wrought a greater transformation than the
single act of removing the rough fox-skin cap. If there was much that
was prepossessing in the countenance of the young hunter, there was
something even noble in the rounded outlines of his head and brow. The
very air and manner with which the member haughtily maintained itself
over the coarse and even wild attire in which the rest of his frame was
clad, bespoke not only familiarity with a splendor that in those new
settlements was thought to be unequalled, but something very like
contempt also.

The hand that held the cap rested lightly on the little ivory-mounted
piano of Elizabeth, with neither rustic restraint nor obtrusive
vulgarity. A single finger touched the instrument, as if accustomed to
dwell on such places. His other arm was extended to its utmost length,
and the hand grasped the barrel of his long rifle with something like
convulsive energy. The act and the attitude were both involuntary,
and evidently proceeded from a feeling much deeper than that of vulgar
surprise. His appearance, connected as it was with the rough exterior of
his dress, rendered him entirely distinct from the busy group that were
moving across the other end of the long hall, occupied in receiving the
travellers and exchanging their welcomes; and Elizabeth continued
to gaze at him in wonder. The contraction of the stranger’s brows in
creased as his eyes moved slowly from one object to another. For moments
the expression of his countenance was fierce, and then again it seemed
to pass away in some painful emotion. The arm that was extended bent and
brought the hand nigh to his face, when his head dropped upon it, and
concealed the wonderfully speaking lineaments.

“We forget, dear sir, the strange gentleman” (for her life Elizabeth
could not call him otherwise) “whom we have brought here for assistance,
and to whom we owe every attention.”

All eyes were instantly turned in the direction of those of the speaker,
and the youth rather proudly elevated his head again, while he answered:

“My wound is trifling, and I believe that Judge Temple sent for a
physician the moment we arrived.”

“Certainly,” said Marmaduke: “I have not forgotten the object of thy
visit, young man, nor the nature of my debt.

“Oh!” exclaimed Richard, with something of a waggish leer, “thou owest
the lad for the venison, I suppose that thou killed, Cousin ‘Duke!
Marmaduke! Marmaduke! That was a marvellous tale of thine about the
buck! Here, young man, are two dollars for the deer, and Judge Temple
can do no less than pay the doctor. I shall charge you nothing for my
services, but you shall not fare the worst for that. Come, come, ‘Duke,
don’t be down hearted about it; if you missed the buck, you contrived to
shoot this poor fellow through a pine-tree. Now I own that you have beat
me; I never did such a thing in all my life.”

“And I hope never will,” returned the Judge, “if you are to experience
the uneasiness that I have suffered; but be of good cheer, my young
friend, the injury must be small, as thou movest thy arm with apparent
freedom.

“Don’t make the matter worse, ‘Duke, by pretending to talk about
surgery,” interrupted Mr. Jones, with a contemptuous wave of the hand:
“it is a science that can only be learned by practice. You know that my
grandfather was a doctor, but you haven’t got a drop of medical blood
in your veins. These kind of things run in families. All my family by my
father’s side had a knack at physic. ‘There was my uncle that was killed
at Brandywine--he died as easy again as any other man the regiment,
just from knowing how to hold his breath naturally. Few men know how to
breathe naturally.”

“I doubt not, Dickon,” returned the Judge, meeting the bright smile
which, in spite of himself, stole over the stranger’s features, “that
thy family thoroughly under stand the art of letting life slip through
their lingers.”

Richard heard him quite coolly, and putting a hand in either pocket of
his surcoat, so as to press forward the skirts, began to whistle a tune;
but the desire to reply overcame his philosophy, and with great heat he
exclaimed:

“You may affect to smile, Judge Temple, at hereditary virtues, if you
please; but there is not a man on your Patent who don’t know better.
Here, even this young man, who has never seen anything but bears, and
deer, and woodchucks, knows better than to believe virtues are not
transmitted in families. Don’t you, friend?”

“I believe that vice is not,” said the stranger abruptly; his eye
glancing from the father to the daughter.

“The squire is right, Judge,” observed Benjamin, with a knowing nod of
his head toward Richard, that bespoke the cordiality between them, “Now,
in the old country, the king’s majesty touches for the evil, and that is
a disorder that the greatest doctor in the fleet, or for the matter of
that admiral either: can’t cure; only the king’s majesty or a man that’s
been hanged. Yes, the squire is right; for if-so-be that he wasn’t, how
is it that the seventh son always is a doctor, whether he ships for
the cockpit or not? Now when we fell in with the mounsheers, under De
Grasse, d’ye see, we hid aboard of us a doctor--”

“Very well, Benjamin,” interrupted Elizabeth, glancing her eyes from the
hunter to Monsieur Le Quoi, who was most politely attending to what fell
from each individual in succession, “you shall tell me of that, and
all your entertaining adventures together; just now, a room must be
prepared, in which the arm of this gentleman can be dressed.”

“I will attend to that myself, Cousin Elizabeth,” observed Richard,
somewhat haughtily. “The young man will not suffer because Marmaduke
chooses to be a little obstinate. Follow me, my friend, and I will
examine the hurt myself.”

“It will be well to wait for the physician,” said the hunter coldly; “he
cannot be distant.”

Richard paused and looked at the speaker, a little astonished at the
language, and a good deal appalled at the refusal. He construed the
latter into an act of hostility, and, placing his hands in the pockets
again, he walked up to Mr. Grant, and, putting his face close to the
countenance of the divine, said in an undertone:

“Now, mark my words--there will be a story among the settlers, that all
our necks would have been broken but for that fellow--as if I did not
know how to drive. Why, you might have turned the horses yourself,
sir; nothing was easier; it was only pulling hard on the nigh rein, and
touching the off flank of the leader. I hope, my dear sir, you are not
at all hurt by the upset the lad gave us?”

The reply was interrupted by the entrance of the village physician.



CHAPTER VI


     “And about his shelves,
     A beggarly account of empty boxes,
     Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds.
     Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses,
     Were thinly scattered to make up a show.”
      --Shakespeare.

Doctor Elnathan Todd, for such was the name of the man of physic, was
commonly thought to be, among the settlers, a gentleman of great mental
endowments, and he was assuredly of rare personal proportions. In height
he measured, without his shoes, exactly six feet and four inches.
His hands, feet, and knees corresponded in every respect with this
formidable stature; but every other part of his frame appeared to have
been intended for a man several sizes smaller, if we except the length
of the limbs. His shoulders were square, in one sense at least, being in
a right line from one side to the other; but they were so narrow, that
the long dangling arms they supported seemed to issue out of his back.
His neck possessed, in an eminent degree, the property of length to
which we have alluded, and it was topped by a small bullet-head that
exhibited on one side a bush of bristling brown hair and on the other a
short, twinkling visage, that appeared to maintain a constant struggle
with itself in order to look wise. He was the youngest son of a farmer
in the western part of Massachusetts, who, being in some what easy
circumstances, had allowed this boy to shoot up to the height we
have mentioned, without the ordinary interruptions of field labor,
wood-chopping, and such other toils as were imposed on his brothers.
Elnathan was indebted for this exemption from labor in some measure
to his extraordinary growth, which, leaving him pale, inanimate, and
listless, induced his tender mother to pronounce him “a sickly boy, and
one that was not equal to work, but who might earn a living comfortably
enough by taking to pleading law, or turning minister, or doctoring, or
some such like easy calling.’ Still, there was great uncertainty which
of these vocations the youth was best endowed to fill; but, having
no other employment, the stripling was constantly lounging about the
homestead,” munching green apples and hunting for sorrel; when the same
sagacious eye that had brought to light his latent talents seized upon
this circumstance as a clew to his future path through the turmoils
of the world. “Elnathan was cut out for a doctor, she knew, for he was
forever digging for herbs, and tasting all kinds of things that grow’d
about the lots. Then again he had a natural love for doctor-stuff, for
when she had left the bilious pills out for her man, all nicely covered
with maple sugar just ready to take, Nathan had come in and swallowed
them for all the world as if they were nothing, while Ichabod (her
husband) could never get one down without making such desperate faces
that it was awful to look on.”

This discovery decided the matter. Elnathan, then about fifteen, was,
much like a wild colt, caught and trimmed by clipping his bushy locks;
dressed in a suit of homespun, dyed in the butternut bark; furnished
with a “New Testament” and a “Webster’s Spelling Book,” and sent
to school. As the boy was by nature quite shrewd enough, and had
previously, at odd times, laid the foundations of reading, writing, and
arithmetic, he was soon conspicuous in the school for his learning. The
delighted mother had the gratification of hearing, from the lips of
the master, that her son was a “prodigious boy, and far above all
his class.” He also thought that “the youth had a natural love for
doctoring, as he had known him frequently advise the smaller children
against eating to much; and, once or twice, when the ignorant little
things had persevered in opposition to Elnathan’s advice, he had known
her son empty the school-baskets with his own mouth, to prevent the
consequences.”

Soon after this comfortable declaration from his school master, the lad
was removed to the house of the village doctor, a gentleman whose early
career had not been unlike that of our hero where he was to be seen
sometimes watering a horse, at others watering medicines, blue, yellow,
and red: then again he might be noticed lolling under an apple-tree,
with Ruddiman’s Latin Grammar in his hand, and a corner of Denman’s
Midwifery sticking out of a pocket; for his instructor held it absurd
to teach his pupil how to dispatch a patient regularly from this world,
before he knew how to bring him into it.

This kind of life continued for a twelvemonth, when he suddenly appeared
at a meeting in a long coat (and well did it deserve the name!) of black
homespun, with little bootees, bound with an uncolored calf-skin for the
want of red morocco.

Soon after he was seen shaving with a dull razor. Three or four months
had scarce elapsed before several elderly ladies were observed hastening
toward the house of a poor woman in the village, while others were
running to and fro in great apparent distress. One or two boys
were mounted, bareback, on horses, and sent off at speed in various
directions. Several indirect questions were put concerning the place
where the physician was last seen; but all would not do; and at length
Elnathan was seen issuing from his door with a very grave air, preceded
by a little white-headed boy, out of breath, trotting before him. The
following day the youth appeared in the street, as the highway was
called, and the neighborhood was much edified by the additional gravity
of his air. The same week he bought a new razor; and the succeeding
Sunday he entered the meeting-house with a red silk handkerchief in his
hand, and with an extremely demure countenance. In the evening he called
upon a young woman of his own class in life, for there were no others to
be found, and, when he was left alone with the fair, he was called, for
the first time in his life, Dr. Todd, by her prudent mother. The ice
once broken in this manner, Elnathan was greeted from every mouth with
his official appellation.

Another year passed under the superintendence of the same master,
during which the young physician had the credit of “riding with the
old doctor,” although they were generally observed to travel different
roads. At the end of that period, Dr. Todd attained his legal majority.
He then took a jaunt to Boston to purchase medicines, and, as some
intimated, to walk the hospital; we know not how the latter might have
been, but, if true, he soon walked through it, for he returned within
a fortnight, bringing with him a suspicious-looking box, that smelled
powerfully of brimstone.

The next Sunday he was married, and the following morning he entered
a one-horse sleigh with his bride, having before him the box we have
mentioned, with another filled with home-made household linen, a
paper-covered trunk with a red umbrella lashed to it, a pair of quite
new saddle-bags, and a handbox. The next intelligence that his friends
received of the bride and bridegroom was, that the latter was “settled
in the new countries, and well to do as a doctor in Templeton, in York
State!”

If a Templar would smile at the qualifications of Marmaduke to fill the
judicial seat he occupied, we are certain that a graduate of Leyden
or Edinburgh would be extremely amused with this true narration of
the servitude of Elnathan in the temple of Aesculapius. But the same
consolation was afforded to both the jurist and the leech, for Dr. Todd
was quite as much on a level with his own peers of the profession in
that country, as was Marmaduke with his brethren on the bench.

Time and practice did wonders for the physician. He was naturally
humane, but possessed of no small share of moral courage; or, in other
words, he was chary of the lives of his patients, and never tried
uncertain experiments on such members of society as were considered
useful; but, once or twice, when a luckless vagrant had come under his
care, he was a little addicted to trying the effects of every phial in
his saddle-bags on the strangers constitution. Happily their number was
small, and in most cases their natures innocent. By these means Elnathan
had acquired a certain degree of knowledge in fevers and agues, and
could talk with judgment concerning intermittents, remittents, tertians,
quotidians, etc. In certain cutaneous disorders very prevalent in new
settlements, he was considered to be infallible; and there was no woman
on the Patent but would as soon think of becoming a mother without a
husband as without the assistance of Dr. Todd. In short, he was rearing,
on this foundation of sand a superstructure cemented by practice, though
composed of somewhat brittle materials. He however, occasionally renewed
his elementary studies, and, with the observation of a shrewd mind, was
comfort ably applying his practice to his theory.

In surgery, having the least experience, and it being a business that
spoke directly to the senses, he was most apt to distrust his own
powers; but he had applied oils to several burns, cut round the roots
of sundry defective teeth, and sewed up the wounds of numberless wood
choppers, with considerable éclat, when an unfortunate jobber suffered a
fracture of his leg by the tree that he had been felling. It was on this
occasion that our hero encountered the greatest trial his nerves and
moral feeling had ever sustained. In the hour of need, however, he was
not found wanting. Most of the amputations in the new settlements, and
they were quite frequent, were per formed by some one practitioner who,
possessing originally a reputation, was enabled by this circumstance to
acquire an experience that rendered him deserving of it; and Elnathan
had been present at one or two of these operations. But on the present
occasion the man of practice was not to be obtained, and the duty fell,
as a matter of course, to the share of Mr. Todd. He went to work with
a kind of blind desperation, observing, at the same time, all the
externals of decent gravity and great skill, The sufferer’s name was
Milligan, and it was to this event that Richard alluded, when he spoke
of assisting the doctor at an amputation by holding the leg! The limb
was certainly cut off, and the patient survived the operation. It was,
however, two years before poor Milligan ceased to complain that they had
buried the leg in so narrow a box that it was straitened for room;
he could feel the pain shooting up from the inhumed fragment into the
living members. Marmaduke suggested that the fault might lie in the
arteries and nerves; but Richard, considering the amputation as part of
his own handiwork, strongly repelled the insinuation, at the same time
declaring that he had often heard of men who could tell when it was
about to rain, by the toes of amputated limbs, After two or three years,
notwithstanding, Milligan’s complaints gradually diminished, the leg was
dug up, and a larger box furnished, and from that hour no one had heard
the sufferer utter another complaint on the subject. This gave the
public great confidence in Dr. Todd, whose reputation was hourly
increasing, and, luckily for his patients, his information also.

Notwithstanding Dr. Todd’s practice, and his success with the leg, he
was not a little appalled on entering the hall of the mansion-house. It
was glaring with the light of day; it looked so imposing, compared with
the hastily built and scantily furnished apartments which he frequented
in his ordinary practice, and contained so many well-dressed persons
and anxious faces, that his usually firm nerves were a good deal
discomposed. He had heard from the messenger who summoned him, that it
was a gun-shot wound, and had come from his own home, wading through
the snow, with his saddle-bags thrown over his arm, while separated
arteries, penetrated lungs, and injured vitals were whirling through his
brain, as if he were stalking over a field of battle, instead of Judge
Temple’s peaceable in closure.

The first object that met his eye, as he moved into the room, was
Elizabeth in her riding-habit, richly laced with gold cord, her fine
form bending toward him, and her face expressing deep anxiety in every
one of its beautiful features. The enormous knees of the physician
struck each other with a noise that was audible; for, in the absent
state of his mind, he mistook her for a general officer, perforated with
bullets, hastening from the field of battle to implore assistance. The
delusion, however, was but momentary, and his eye glanced rapidly from
the daughter to the earnest dignity of the father’s countenance; thence
to the busy strut of Richard, who was cooling his impatience at the
hunter’s indifference to his assistance, by pacing the hall and cracking
his whip; from him to the Frenchman, who had stood for several minutes
unheeded with a chair for the lady; thence to Major Hartmann, who was
very coolly lighting a pipe three feet long by a candle in one of the
chandeliers; thence to Mr. Grant, who was turning over a manuscript with
much earnestness at one of the lustres; thence to Remarkable, who stood,
with her arms demurely folded before her, surveying, with a look of
admiration and envy, the dress and beauty of the young lady; and from
her to Benjamin, who, with his feet standing wide apart, and his arms
akimbo, was balancing his square little body with the indifference of
one who is accustomed to wounds and bloodshed. All of these seemed to
be unhurt, and the operator began to breathe more freely; but, before he
had time to take a second look, the Judge, advancing, shook him kindly
by the hand, and spoke.

“Thou art welcome, my good sir, quite welcome, indeed; here is a youth
whom I have unfortunately wounded in shooting a deer this evening, and
who requires some of thy assistance.”

“Shooting at a deer, ‘Duke,” interrupted Richard--“shooting at a deer.
Who do you think can prescribe, unless he knows the truth of the case?
It is always so with some people; they think a doctor can be deceived
with the same impunity as another man.”

“Shooting at a deer, truly,” returned the Judge, smiling, “although it
is by no means certain that I did not aid in destroying the buck; but
the youth is injured by my hand, be that as it may; and it is thy skill
that must cure him, and my pocket shall amply reward thee for it.”

“Two ver good tings to depend on,” observed Monsieur Le Quoi, bowing
politely, with a sweep of his head to the Judge and to the practitioner.

“I thank you, monsieur,” returned the Judge; “but we keep the young
man in pain. Remarkable, thou wilt please to provide linen for lint and
bandages.”

This remark caused a cessation of the compliments, and induced the
physician to turn an inquiring eye in the direction of his patient.
During the dialogue the young hunter had thrown aside his overcoat, and
now stood clad in a plain suit of the common, light-colored homespun of
the country, that was evidently but recently made. His hand was on the
lapels of his coat, in the attitude of removing the garment, when he
suddenly suspended the movement, and looked toward the commiserating
Elizabeth, who was standing in an unchanged posture, too much absorbed
with her anxious feelings to heed his actions. A slight color appeared
on the brow of the youth.

“Possibly the sight of blood may alarm the lady; I will retire to
another room while the wound is dressing.”

“By no means.” said Dr. Todd, who, having discovered that his patient
was far from being a man of importance, felt much emboldened to perform
the duty. “The strong light of these candles is favorable to the
operation, and it is seldom that we hard students enjoy good eyesight.”

While speaking, Elnathan placed a pair of large iron-rimmed spectacles
on his face, where they dropped, as it were by long practice, to the
extremity of his slim pug nose; and, if they were of no service as
assistants to his eyes, neither were they any impediment to his vision;
for his little gray organs were twinkling above them like two stars
emerging from the envious cover of a cloud. The action was unheeded by
all but Remarkable, who observed to Benjamin:

“Dr. Todd is a comely man to look on, and despu’t pretty. How well he
seems in spectacles! I declare, they give a grand look to a body’s face.
I have quite a great mind to try them myself.”

The speech of the stranger recalled the recollection of Miss Temple,
who started as if from deep abstraction, and, coloring excessively,
she motioned to a young woman who served in the capacity of maid, and
retired with an air of womanly reserve.

The field was now left to the physician and his patient, while the
different personages who remained gathered around the latter, with faces
expressing the various degrees of interest that each one felt in his
condition. Major Hartmann alone retained his seat, where he continued
to throw out vast quantities of smoke, now rolling his eyes up to the
ceiling, as if musing on the uncertainty of life, and now bending them
on the wounded man, with an expression that bespoke some consciousness
of his situation.

In the mean time Elnathan, to whom the sight of a gun shot wound was a
perfect novelty, commenced his preparations with a solemnity and care
that were worthy of the occasion. An old shirt was procured by Benjamin,
and placed in the hand of the other, who tore divers bandages from it,
with an exactitude that marked both his own skill and the importance of
the operation.

When this preparatory measure was taken, Dr. Todd selected a piece of
the shirt with great care, and handing to Mr. Jones, without moving a
muscle, said: “Here, Squire Jones, you are well acquainted with these
things; will you please to scrape the lint? It should be fine and soft,
you know, my dear sir; and be cautious that no cotton gets in, or it may
p’izen the wound. The shirt has been made with cotton thread, but you
can easily pick it out.”

Richard assumed the office, with a nod at his cousin, that said quite
plainly, “You see this fellow can’t get along without me;” and began to
scrape the linen on his knee with great diligence.

A table was now spread with phials, boxes of salve, and divers surgical
instruments. As the latter appeared in succession, from a case of red
morocco, their owner held up each implement to the strong light of the
chandelier, near to which he stood, and examined it with the nicest
care. A red silk handkerchief was frequently applied to the glittering
steel, as if to remove from the polished surfaces the least impediment
which might exist to the most delicate operation. After the rather
scantily furnished pocket-case which contained these instruments was
exhausted, the physician turned to his saddle-bags, and produced various
phials, filled with liquids of the most radiant colors. These were
arranged in due order by the side of the murderous saws, knives, and
scissors, when Elnathan stretched his long body to its utmost elevation,
placing his hand on the small of his back as if for sup port, and looked
about him to discover what effect this display of professional skill was
likely to produce on the spectators.

“Upon my wort, toctor,” observed Major Hartmann, with a roguish roll
of his little black eyes, but with every other feature of his face in a
state of perfect rest, “put you have a very pretty pocket-book of tools
tere, and your toctor-stuff glitters as if it was petter for ter eyes as
for ter pelly.”

Elnathan gave a hem--one that might have been equally taken for that
kind of noise which cowards are said to make in order to awaken their
dormant courage, or for a natural effort to clear the throat; if for the
latter it was successful; for, turning his face to the veteran German,
he said:

“Very true, Major Hartmann, very true, sir; a prudent man will always
strive to make his remedies agreeable to the eyes, though they may not
altogether suit the stomach. It is no small part of our art, sir,” and
he now spoke with the confidence of a man who understood his subject,
“to reconcile the patient to what is for his own good, though at the
same time it may be unpalatable.”

“Sartain! Dr. Todd is right,” said Remarkable, “and has Scripter for
what he says. The Bible tells us how things may be sweet to the mouth,
and bitter to the inwards.”

“True, true,” interrupted the Judge, a little impatiently; “but here is
a youth who needs no deception to lure him to his own benefit. I see, by
his eye, that he fears nothing more than delay.”

The stranger had, without assistance, bared his own shoulder, when the
slight perforation produced by the pas sage of the buckshot was plainly
visible. The intense cold of the evening had stopped the bleeding, and
Dr. Todd, casting a furtive glance at the wound, thought it by no means
so formidable an affair as he had anticipated. Thus encouraged, he
approached his patient, and made some indication of an intention to
trace the route that had been taken by the lead.

Remarkable often found occasions, in after days, to recount the minutiae
of that celebrated operation; and when she arrived at this point she
commonly proceeded as follows: “And then the doctor tuck out of the
pocket book a long thing, like a knitting-needle, with a button fastened
to the end on’t; and then he pushed it into the wound and then the young
man looked awful; and then I thought I should have swaned away--I felt
in sitch a dispu’t taking; and then the doctor had run it right through
his shoulder, and shoved the bullet out on tother side; and so Dr. Todd
cured the young man--Of a ball that the Judge had shot into him--for
all the world as easy as I could pick out a splinter with my
darning-needle.”

Such were the impressions of Remarkable on the subject; and such
doubtless were the opinions of most of those who felt it necessary to
entertain a species of religious veneration for the skill of Elnathan;
but such was far from the truth.

When the physician attempted to introduce the instrument described
by Remarkable, he was repulsed by the stranger, with a good deal of
decision, and some little contempt, in his manner.

“I believe, sir,” he said, “that a probe is not necessary; the shot has
missed the bone, and has passed directly through the arm to the opposite
side, where it remains but skin deep, and whence, I should think, it
might be easily extracted.”

“The gentleman knows best,” said Dr. Todd, laying down the probe with
the air of a man who had assumed it merely in compliance with forms;
and, turning to Richard, he fingered the lint with the appearance of
great care and foresight. “Admirably well scraped, Squire Jones: it is
about the best lint I have ever seen. I want your assistance, my good
sir, to hold the patient’s arm while I make an incision for the ball.
Now, I rather guess there is not another gentleman present who could
scrape the lint so well as Squire Jones!”

“Such things run in families,” observed Richard, rising with alacrity
to render the desired assistance. “My father, and my grandfather before
him, were both celebrated for their knowledge of surgery; they were not,
like Marmaduke here, puffed up with an accidental thing, such as the
time when he drew in the hip-joint of the man who was thrown from his
horse; that was the fall before you came into the settlement, doctor;
but they were men who were taught the thing regularly, spending half
their lives in learning those little niceties; though, for the matter of
that, my grandfather was a college-bred physician, and the best in the
colony, too--that is, in his neighborhood.”

“So it goes with the world, squire,” cried Benjamin; “if so be that
a man wants to walk the quarter-deck with credit, d’ye see, and with
regular built swabs on his shoulders, he mustn’t think to do it by
getting in at the cabin windows. There are two ways to get into a top,
besides the lubber-holes. The true way to walk aft is to begin forrard;
tho’f it be only in a humble way, like myself, d’ye see, which was from
being only a hander of topgallant sails, and a stower of the flying-jib,
to keeping the key of the captain’s locker.”

Benjamin speaks quite to the purpose,’ continued Richard, “I dare say
that he has often seen shot extracted in the different ships in which he
has served; suppose we get him to hold the basin; he must be used to the
sight of blood.”

“That he is, squire, that he is,” interrupted the cidevant steward;
“many’s the good shot, round, double-headed, and grape, that I’ve
seen the doctors at work on. For the matter of that, I was in a boat,
alongside the ship, when they cut out the twelve-pound shot from the
thigh of the captain of the Foodyrong, one of Mounsheer Ler Quaw’s
countrymen!” *

  * It is possible that the reader may start at this declaration of
    Benjamin, but those who have lived in the new settlements of America
    are too much accustomed to hear of these European exploits to doubt
    it.

“A twelve-pound ball from the thigh of a human being:” exclaimed Mr.
Grant, with great simplicity, dropping the sermon he was again reading,
and raising his spectacles to the top of his forehead.

“A twelve-pounder!” echoed Benjamin, staring around him with much
confidence; “a twelve-pounder! ay! a twenty-four-pound shot can easily
be taken from a man’s body, if so be a doctor only knows how, There’s
Squire Jones, now, ask him, sir; he reads all the books; ask him if he
never fell in with a page that keeps the reckoning of such things.”

“Certainly, more important operations than that have been performed,”
 observed Richard; “the encyclopaedia mentions much more incredible
circumstances than that, as, I dare say, you know, Dr. Todd.”

“Certainly, there are incredible tales told in the encyclopaedias,”
 returned Elnathan, “though I cannot say that I have ever seen, myself,
anything larger than a musket ball extracted.”

During this discourse an incision had been made through the skin of the
young hunter’s shoulder, and the lead was laid bare. Elnathan took a
pair of glittering forceps, and was in the act of applying them to the
wound, when a sudden motion of the patient caused the shot to fall
out of itself, The long arm and broad hand of the operator were now of
singular service; for the latter expanded itself, and caught the lead,
while at the same time an extremely ambiguous motion was made by its
brother, so as to leave it doubtful to the spectators how great was its
agency in releasing the shot, Richard, however, put the matter at rest
by exclaiming:

“Very neatly done, doctor! I have never seen a shot more neatly
extracted; and I dare say Benjamin will say the same.”

“Why, considering,” returned Benjamin, “I must say that it was
ship-shape and Brister-fashion. Now all that the doctor has to do, is to
clap a couple of plugs in the holes, and the lad will float in any gale
that blows in these here hills.”

“I thank you, sir, for what you have done,” said the youth, with a
little distance; “but here is a man who will take me under his care, and
spare you all, gentlemen, any further trouble on my account.”

The whole group turned their heads in surprise, and beheld, standing at
one of the distant doors of the hall, the person of Indian John.



CHAPTER VII.

     “From Sesquehanna’s utmost springs,
     Where savage tribes pursue their game,
     His blanket tied with yellow strings,
     The shepherd of the forest came.”--Freneau.

Before the Europeans, or, to use a more significant term, the
Christians, dispossessed the original owners of the soil, all that
section of country which contains the New England States, and those of
the Middle which lie east of the mountains, was occupied by two great
nations of Indians, from whom had descended numberless tribes. But,
as the original distinctions between these nations were marked by a
difference in language, as well as by repeated and bloody wars, they
were never known to amalgamate, until after the power and inroads of
the whites had reduced some of the tribes to a state of dependence that
rendered not only their political, but, considering the wants and habits
of a savage, their animal existence also, extremely precarious.

These two great divisions consisted, on the one side, of the Five, or,
as they were afterward called, the Six Nations, and their allies; and,
on the other, of the Lenni Lenape, or Delawares, with the numerous and
powerful tribes that owned that nation as their grandfather The former
was generally called, by the Anglo-Americans Iroquois, or the Six
Nations, and sometimes Mingoes. Their appellation among their rivals,
seems generally to have been the Mengwe, or Maqua. They consisted of
the tribes or, as their allies were fond of asserting, in order to raise
their consequence, of the several nations of the Mohawks, the Oneidas,
the Onondagas, Cayugas, and Senecas; who ranked, in the confederation in
the order in which they are named. The Tuscaroras were admitted to this
union near a century after its foundation, and thus completed the number
of six.

Of the Lenni Lenape, or as they were called by the whites, from the
circumstances of their holding their great council-fire on the banks
of that river, the Delaware nation, the principal tribes, besides that
which bore the generic name, were the Mahicanni, Mohicans, or Mohegans,
and the Nanticokes, or Nentigoes. Of these the latter held the country
along the waters of the Chesapeake and the seashore; while the Mohegans
occupied the district between the Hudson and the ocean, including much
of New England. Of course these two tribes were the first who were
dispossessed of their lands by the Europeans.

The wars of a portion of the latter are celebrated among us as the wars
of King Philip; but the peaceful policy of William Penn, or Miquon, as
he was termed by the natives, effected its object with less difficulty,
though not with less certainty. As the natives gradually disappeared
from the country of the Mohegans, some scattering families sought a
refuge around the council-fire of the mother tribe, or the Delawares.

This people had been induced to suffer themselves to be called women by
their old enemies, the Mingoes, or Iroquois. After the latter, having in
vain tried the effects of hostility, had recourse in artifice in
order to prevail over their rivals. According to this declaration, the
Delawares were to cultivate the arts of peace, and to intrust their
defence entirely to the men, or warlike tribes of the Six Nations.

This state of things continued until the war of the Revolution. When
the Lenni Lenape formally asserted their independence, and fearlessly
declared that they were again men. But, in a government so peculiarly
republican as the Indian polity, it was not at all times an easy task to
restrain its members within the rules of the nation. Several fierce and
renowned warriors of the Mohegans, finding the conflict with the whites
to be in vain, sought a refuge with their grandfather, and brought with
them the feelings and principles that had so long distinguished them
in their own tribe. These chieftains kept alive, in some measure, the
martial spirit of the Delawares; and would, at times, lead small parties
against their ancient enemies, or such other foes as incurred their
resentment.

Among these warriors was one race particularly famous for their prowess,
and for those qualities that render an Indian hero celebrated. But war,
time, disease, and want had conspired to thin their number; and the sole
representative of this once renowned family now stood in the hall of
Marmaduke Temple. He had for a long time been an associate of the white
men, particularly in their wars, and having been, at the season when his
services were of importance, much noticed and flattered, he had turned
Christian and was baptized by the name of John. He had suffered severely
in his family during the recent war, having had every soul to whom
he was allied cut off by an inroad of the enemy; and when the last
lingering remnant of his nation extinguished their fires, among the
hills of the Delaware, he alone had remained, with a determination of
laying his hones in that country where his fathers had so long lived and
governed.

It was only, however, within a few months, that he had appeared among
the mountains that surrounded Templeton. To the hut of the old hunter
he seemed peculiarly welcome; and, as the habits of the Leather-Stocking
were so nearly assimilated to those of the savages, the conjunction of
their interests excited no surprise. They resided in the same cabin, ate
of the same food, and were chiefly occupied in the same pursuits.

We have already mentioned the baptismal name of this ancient chief; but
in his conversation with Natty, held in the language of the Delawares,
he was heard uniformly to call himself Chingachgook, which, interpreted,
means the “Great Snake.” This name he had acquired in his youth, by his
skill and prowess in war; but when his brows began to wrinkle with time,
and he stood alone, the last of his family, and his particular tribe,
the few Delawares, who yet continued about the head-waters of their
river, gave him the mournful appellation of Mohegan. Perhaps there was
something of deep feeling excited in the bosom of this inhabitant of the
forest by the sound of a name that recalled the idea of his nation in
ruins, for he seldom used it himself--never, indeed, excepting on the
most solemn occasions; but the settlers had united, according to the
Christian custom, his baptismal with his national name, and to them
he was generally known as John Mohegan, or, more familiarly, as Indian
John.

From his long association with the white men, the habits of Mohegan were
a mixture of the civilized and savage states, though there was certainly
a strong preponderance in favor of the latter. In common with all his
people, who dwelt within the influence of the Anglo-Americans, he
had acquired new wants, and his dress was a mixture of his native and
European fashions. Notwithstanding the in tense cold without, his head
was uncovered; but a profusion of long, black, coarse hair concealed his
forehead, his crown, and even hung about his cheeks, so as to convey
the idea, to one who knew his present amid former conditions, that he
encouraged its abundance, as a willing veil to hide the shame of a noble
soul, mourning for glory once known. His forehead, when it could be
seen, appeared lofty, broad, and noble. His nose was high, and of the
kind called Roman, with nostrils that expanded, in his seventieth year,
with the freedom that had distinguished them in youth. His mouth was
large, but compressed, and possessing a great share of expression and
character, and, when opened, it discovered a perfect set of short,
strong, and regular teeth. His chin was full, though not prominent; and
his face bore the infallible mark of his people, in its square, high
cheek-bones. The eyes were not large, but their black orbs glittered in
the rays of the candles, as he gazed intently down the hall, like two
balls of fire.

The instant that Mohegan observed himself to be noticed by the group
around the young stranger, he dropped the blanket which covered the
upper part of his frame, from his shoulders, suffering it to fall over
his leggins of untanned deer-skin, where it was retained by a belt of
bark that confined it to his waist.

As he walked slowly down the long hail, the dignified and deliberate
tread of the Indian surprised the spectators.

His shoulders, and body to his waist, were entirely bare, with the
exception of a silver medallion of Washington, that was suspended from
his neck by a thong of buckskin, and rested on his high chest, amid many
scars. His shoulders were rather broad and full; but the arms, though
straight and graceful, wanted the muscular appearance that labor gives
to a race of men. The medallion was the only ornament he wore, although
enormous slits in the rim of either ear, which suffered the cartilages
to fall two inches below the members, had evidently been used for the
purposes of decoration in other days in his hand he held a small basket
of the ash-wood slips, colored in divers fantastical conceits, with red
and black paints mingled with the white of the wood.

As this child of the forest approached them, the whole party stood
aside, and allowed him to confront the object of his visit. He did not
speak, however, but stood fixing his glowing eyes on the shoulder of the
young hunter, and then turning them intently on the countenance of the
Judge. The latter was a good deal astonished at this unusual departure
from the ordinarily subdued and quiet manner of the Indian; but he
extended his hand, and said:

“Thou art welcome, John. This youth entertains a high opinion of thy
skill, it seems, for he prefers thee to dress his wound even to our good
friend, Dr. Todd.”

Mohegan now spoke in tolerable English, but in a low, monotonous,
guttural tone;

“The children of Miquon do not love the sight of blood; and yet the
Young Eagle has been struck by the hand that should do no evil!”

“Mohegan! old John!” exclaimed the Judge, “thinkest thou that my hand
has ever drawn human blood willingly? For shame! for shame, old John!
thy religion should have taught thee better.”

“The evil spirit sometimes lives in the best heart,” returned John, “but
my brother speaks the truth; his hand has never taken life, when awake;
no! not even when the children of the great English Father were making
the waters red with the blood of his people.”

“Surely John,” said Mr. Grant, with much earnestness, “you remember
the divine command of our Saviour, ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged.’ What
motive could Judge Temple have for injuring a youth like this; one to
whom he is unknown, and from whom he can receive neither in jury nor
favor?”

John listened respectfully to the divine, and, when he had concluded, he
stretched out his arm, and said with energy:

“He is innocent. My brother has not done this.”

Marmaduke received the offered hand of the other with a smile, that
showed, however he might be astonished at his suspicion, he had ceased
to resent it; while the wounded youth stood, gazing from his red friend
to his host, with interest powerfully delineated in his countenance.

No sooner was this act of pacification exchanged, than John proceeded
to discharge the duty on which he had come. Dr. Todd was far from
manifesting any displeasure at this invasion of his rights, but made way
for the new leech with an air that expressed a willingness to gratify
the humors of his patient, now that the all-important part of the
business was so successfully performed, and nothing remained to be
done but what any child might effect, indeed, he whispered as much to
Monsieur Le Quoi, when he said:

“It was fortunate that the ball was extracted before this Indian came
in; but any old woman can dress the wound. The young man, I hear, lives
with John and Natty Bumppo, and it’s always best to humor a patient,
when it can be done discreetly--I say, discreetly, monsieur.”

“Certainement,” returned the Frenchman; “you seem ver happy, Mister
Todd, in your pratice. I tink the elder lady might ver well finish vat
you so skeelfully begin.”

But Richard had, at the bottom, a great deal of veneration for the
knowledge of Mohegan, especially in external wounds; and, retaining all
his desire for a participation in glory, he advanced nigh the Indian,
and said: “Sago, sago, Mohegan! sago my good fellow I am glad you have
come; give me a regular physician, like Dr. Todd to cut into flesh, and
a native to heal the wound. Do you remember, John, the time when I and
you set the bone of Natty Bumppo’s little finger, after he broke it by
falling from the rock, when he was trying to get the partridge that
fell on the cliffs? I never could tell yet whether it was I or Natty who
killed that bird: he fired first, and the bird stooped, and then it
was rising again as I pulled trigger. I should have claimed it for a
certainty, but Natty said the hole was too big for shot, and he fired a
single ball from his rifle; but the piece I carried then didn’t scatter,
and I have known it to bore a hole through a board, when I’ve been
shooting at a mark, very much like rifle bullets. Shall I help you,
John? You know I have a knack at these things.”

Mohegan heard this disquisition quite patiently, and, when Richard
concluded, he held out the basket which contained his specifics,
indicating, by a gesture, that he might hold it. Mr. Jones was quite
satisfied with this commission; and ever after, in speaking of the
event, was used to say that “Dr. Todd and I cut out the bullet, and I
and Indian John dressed the wound.”

The patient was much more deserving of that epithet while under the
hands of Mohegan, than while suffering under the practice of the
physician. Indeed, the Indian gave him but little opportunity for
the exercise of a forbearing temper, as he had come prepared for the
occasion. His dressings were soon applied, and consisted only of some
pounded bark, moistened with a fluid that he had expressed from some of
the simples of the woods.

Among the native tribes of the forest there were always two kinds of
leeches to be met with. The one placed its whole dependence on the
exercise of a supernatural power, and was held in greater veneration
than their practice could at all justify; but the other was really
endowed with great skill in the ordinary complaints of the human body,
and was more particularly, as Natty had intimated, “curous” in cuts and
bruises.

While John and Richard were placing the dressings on the wound, Elnathan
was acutely eyeing the contents of Mohegan’s basket, which Mr. Jones,
in his physical ardor had transferred to the doctor, in order to hold
himself one end of the bandages. Here he was soon enabled to detect
sundry fragments of wood and bark, of which he quite coolly took
possession, very possibly without any intention of speaking at all upon
the subject; but, when he beheld the full blue eye of Marmaduke watching
his movements, he whispered to the Judge:

“It is not to be denied, Judge Temple, but what the savages are knowing
in small matters of physic. They hand these things down in their
traditions. Now in cancers and hydrophoby they are quite ingenious. I
will just take this bark home and analyze it; for, though it can’t
be worth sixpence to the young man’s shoulder, it may be good for the
toothache, or rheumatism, or some of them complaints. A man should never
be above learning, even if it be from an Indian.”

It was fortunate for Dr. Todd that his principles were so liberal, as,
coupled with his practice, they were the means by which he acquired all
his knowledge, and by which he was gradually qualifying himself for the
duties of his profession. The process to which he subjected the specific
differed, however, greatly from the ordinary rules of chemistry;
for instead of separating he afterward united the component parts of
Mohegan’s remedy, and was thus able to discover the tree whence the
Indian had taken it.

Some ten years after this event, when civilization and its refinements
had crept, or rather rushed, into the settlements among these wild
hills, an affair of honor occurred, and Elnathan was seen to apply a
salve to the wound received by one of the parties, which had the flavor
that was peculiar to the tree, or root, that Mohegan had used. Ten years
later still, when England and the United States were again engaged in
war, and the hordes of the western parts of the State of New York were
rushing to the field, Elnathan, presuming on the reputation obtained by
these two operations, followed in the rear of a brigade of militia as
its surgeon!

When Mohegan had applied the bark, he freely relinquished to Richard the
needle and thread that were used in sewing the bandages, for these were
implements of which the native but little understood the use: and, step
ping back with decent gravity, awaited the completion of the business by
the other.

“Reach me the scissors,” said Mr. Jones, when he had finished, and
finished for the second time, after tying the linen in every shape and
form that it could be placed; “reach me the scissors, for here is a
thread that must be cut off, or it might get under the dressings, and
inflame the wound. See, John, I have put the lint I scraped between
two layers of the linen; for though the bark is certainly best for the
flesh, yet the lint will serve to keep the cold air from the wound. If
any lint will do it good, it is this lint; I scraped it myself, and I
will not turn my back at scraping lint to any man on the Patent. I ought
to know how, if anybody ought, for my grandfather was a doctor, and my
father had a natural turn that way.”

“Here, squire, is the scissors,” said Remarkable, producing from beneath
her petticoat of green moreen a pair of dull-looking shears; “well, upon
my say-so, you have sewed on the rags as well as a woman.”

“As well as a woman!” echoed Richard with indignation; “what do women
know of such matters? and you are proof of the truth of what I say.
Who ever saw such a pair of shears used about a wound? Dr. Todd, I will
thank you for the scissors from the case, Now, young man, I think you’ll
do. The shot has been neatly taken out, although, perhaps, seeing I had
a hand in it, I ought not to say so; and the wound is admirably dressed.
You will soon be well again; though the jerk you gave my leaders must
have a tendency to inflame the shoulder, yet you will do, you will do,
You were rather flurried, I sup pose, and not used to horses; but
I forgive the accident for the motive; no doubt you had the best of
motives; yes, now you will do.”

“Then, gentlemen,” said the wounded stranger, rising, and resuming his
clothes, “it will be unnecessary for me to trespass longer on your time
and patience. There remains but one thing more to be settled, and that
is, our respective rights to the deer, Judge Temple.”

“I acknowledge it to be thine,” said. Marmaduke; “and much more deeply
am I indebted to thee than for this piece of venison. But in the morning
thou wilt call here, and we can adjust this, as well as more important
matters Elizabeth”--for the young lady, being apprised that the wound
was dressed, had re-entered the hall--“thou wilt order a repast for
this youth before we proceed to the church; and Aggy will have a sleigh
prepared to convey him to his friend.”

“But, sir, I cannot go without a part of the deer,” returned the youth,
seemingly struggling with his own feelings; “I have already told you
that I needed the venison for myself.”

“Oh, we will not be particular,” exclaimed Richard; “the Judge will pay
you in the morning for the whole deer; and, Remarkable, give the lad
all the animal excepting the saddle; so, on the whole, I think you may
consider yourself as a very lucky young man--you have been shot without
being disabled; have had the wound dressed in the best possible
manner here in the woods, as well as it would have been done in the
Philadelphia hospital, if not better; have sold your deer at a high
price, and yet can keep most of the carcass, with the skin in the
bargain. ‘Marky, tell Tom to give him the skin too, and in the morning
bring the skin to me and I will give you half a dollar for it, or at
least three-and-sixpence. I want just such a skin to cover the pillion
that I am making for Cousin Bess.”

“I thank you, sir, for your liberality, and, I trust, am also thankful
for my escape,” returned the stranger; “but you reserve the very part of
the animal that I wished for my own use. I must have the saddle myself.”

“Must!” echoed Richard; “must is harder to be swallowed than the horns
of the buck.”

“Yes, must,” repeated the youth; when, turning his head proudly around
him, as if to see who would dare to controvert his rights, he met the
astonished gaze of Elizabeth, and proceeded more mildly: “That is, if
a man is allowed the possession of that which his hand hath killed, and
the law will protect him in the enjoyment of his own.”

“The law will do so,” said Judge Temple, with an air of mortification
mingled with surprise. “Benjamin, see that the whole deer is placed in
the sleigh; and have this youth conveyed to the hut of Leather Stocking.
But, young man thou hast a name, and I shall see you again, in order to
compensate thee for the wrong I have done thee?”

“I am called Edwards,” returned the hunter; “Oliver Edwards, I am easily
to be seen, sir, for I live nigh by, and am not afraid to show my face,
having never injured any man.”

“It is we who have injured you, sir,” said Elizabeth; “and the knowledge
that you decline our assistance would give my father great pain. He
would gladly see you in the morning.”

The young hunter gazed at the fair speaker until his earnest look
brought the blood to her temples; when, recollecting himself, he bent
his head, dropping his eyes to the carpet, and replied:

“In the morning, then, will I return, and see Judge Temple; and I will
accept his offer of the sleigh in token of amity.”

“Amity!” repeated Marmaduke; “there was no malice in the act that
injured thee, young man; there should be none in the feelings which it
may engender.”

“Forgive our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,”
 observed Mr. Grant, “is the language used by our Divine Master himself,
and it should be the golden rule with us, his humble followers.”

The stranger stood a moment lost in thought, and then, glancing his
dark eyes rather wildly around the hall, he bowed low to the divine, and
moved from the apartment with an air that would not admit of detention.

“‘Tis strange that one so young should harbor such feelings of
resentment,” said Marmaduke, when the door closed behind the stranger;
“but while the pain is recent, and the sense of the injury so fresh, he
must feel more strongly than in cooler moments. I doubt not we shall see
him in the morning more tractable.”

Elizabeth, to whom this speech was addressed, did not reply, but moved
slowly up the hall by herself, fixing her eyes on the little figure of
the English ingrain carpet that covered the floor; while, on the
other hand, Richard gave a loud crack with his whip, as the stranger
disappeared, and cried:

“Well, ‘Duke, you are your own master, but I would have tried law for
the saddle before I would have given it to the fellow. Do you not own
the mountains as well as the valleys? are not the woods your own? what
right has this chap, or the Leather-Stocking, to shoot in your woods
without your permission? Now, I have known a farmer in Pennsylvania
order a sportsman off his farm with as little ceremony as I would order
Benjamin to put a log in the stove--By-the-bye, Benjamin, see how the
thermometer stands.--Now, if a man has a right to do this on a farm of
a hundred acres, what power must a landlord have who owns sixty
thousand--ay, for the matter of that, including the late purchases, a
hundred thousand? There is Mohegan, to be sure, he may have some right,
being a native; but it’s little the poor fellow can do now with his
rifle. How is this managed in France, Monsieur Le Quoi? Do you let
everybody run over your land in that country helter-skelter, as they do
here, shooting the game, so that a gentleman has but little or no chance
with his gun?”

“Bah! diable, no, Meester Deeck,” replied the Frenchman; “we give, in
France, no liberty except to the ladi.”

“Yes, yes, to the women, I know,” said Richard, “that is your Salic
law. I read, sir, all kinds of books; of France, as well as England; of
Greece, as well as Rome. But if I were in ‘Duke’s place, I would stick
up advertisements to-morrow morning, forbidding all persons to shoot, or
trespass in any manner, on my woods. I could write such an advertisement
myself, in an hour, as would put a stop to the thing at once.”

“Richart,” said Major Hartmann, very coolly knocking the ashes from
his pipe into the spitting-box by his side, “now listen; I have livet
seventy-five years on ter Mohawk, and in ter woots. You had better
mettle as mit ter deyvel, as mit ter hunters, Tey live mit ter gun, and
a rifle is better as ter law.”

“Ain’t Marmaduke a judge?” said Richard indignantly. “Where is the
use of being a judge, or having a judge, if there is no law? Damn the
fellow! I have a great mind to sue him in the morning myself, before
Squire Doolittle, for meddling with my leaders. I am not afraid of his
rifle. I can shoot, too. I have hit a dollar many a time at fifty rods.

“Thou hast missed more dollars than ever thou hast hit, Dickon,”
 exclaimed the cheerful voice of the Judge. “But we will now take our
evening’s repast, which I perseive, by Remarkable’s physiognomy, is
ready. Monsieur Le Quoi, Miss Temple has a hand at your service. Will
you lead the way, my child?”

“Ah! ma chere mam’selle, comme je suis enchante!” said the Frenchman.
“Il ne manque que les dames de faire un paradis de Templeton.”

Mr. Grant and Mohegan continued in the hall, while the remainder of the
party withdrew to an eating parlor, if we except Benjamin, who civilly
remained to close the rear after the clergyman and to open the front
door for the exit of the Indian.

“John,” said the divine, when the figure of Judge Temple disappeared,
the last of the group, “to-morrow is the festival of the nativity of
our blessed Redeemer, when the church has appointed prayers and
thanksgivings to be offered up by her children, and when all are invited
to partake of the mystical elements. As you have taken up the cross, and
become a follower of good and an eschewer of evil, I trust I shall see
you before the altar, with a contrite heart and a meek spirit.”

“John will come,” said the Indian, betraying no surprise; though he did
not understand all the terms used by the other.

“Yes,” continued Mr. Grant, laying his hand gently on the tawny shoulder
of the aged chief, “but it is not enough to be there in the body; you
must come in the spirit and in truth. The Redeemer died for all, for the
poor Indian as well as for the white man. Heaven knows no difference in
color; nor must earth witness a separation of the church. It is good
and profitable, John, to freshen the understanding, and support the
wavering, by the observance of our holy festivals; but all form is but
stench in the nostrils of the Holy One, unless it be accompanied by a
devout and humble spirit.”

The Indian stepped back a little, and, raising his body to its utmost
powers of erection, he stretched his right arm on high, and dropped his
forefinger downward, as if pointing from the heavens; then, striking his
other band on his naked breast, he said, with energy:

“The eye of the Great Spirit can see from the clouds--the bosom of
Mohegan is bare!”

“It is well, John, and I hope you will receive profit and consolation
from the performance of this duty. The Great Spirit overlooks none of
his children; and the man of the woods is as much an object of his care
as he who dwells in a palace. I wish you a good-night, and pray God to
bless you.”

The Indian bent his head, and they separated--the one to seek his hut,
and the other to join his party at the supper-table. While Benjamin was
opening the door for the passage of the chief, he cried, in a tone that
was meant to be encouraging:

“The parson says the word that is true, John. If so be that they took
count of the color of the skin in heaven, why, they might refuse to
muster on their books a Christian-born, like myself, just for the matter
of a little tan, from cruising in warm latitudes; though, for the
matter of that, this damned norwester is enough to whiten the skin of a
blackamore. Let the reef out of your blanket, man, or your red hide will
hardly weather the night with out a touch from the frost.”



CHAPTER VIII.

     “For here the exile met from every clime,
     And spoke, in friendship, every distant tongue.”
      --Campbell.

We have made our readers acquainted with some variety in character and
nations, in introducing the most important personages of this legend to
their notice; but, in order to establish the fidelity of our narrative,
we shall briefly attempt to explain the reason why we have been obliged
to present so motley a dramatis personae.

Europe, at the period of our tale, was in the commencement of that
commotion which afterward shook her political institutions to the
centre. Louis the Sixteenth had been beheaded, and a nation once
esteemed the most refined among the civilized people of the world was
changing its character, and substituting cruelty for mercy, and subtlety
and ferocity for magnanimity and courage. Thou sands of Frenchmen were
compelled to seek protection in distant lands. Among the crowds who fled
from France and her islands, to the United States of America, was the
gentleman whom we have already mentioned as Monsieur Le Quoi. He had
been recommended to the favor of Judge Temple by the head of an eminent
mercantile house in New York, with whom Marmaduke was in habits
of intimacy, and accustomed to exchange good offices. At his first
interview with the Frenchman, our Judge had discovered him to be a man
of breeding, and one who had seen much more prosperous days in his own
country. From certain hints that had escaped him, Monsieur Le Quoi was
suspected of having been a West-India planter, great numbers of whom had
fled from St. Domingo and the other islands, and were now living in the
Union, in a state of comparative poverty, and some in absolute want The
latter was not, however, the lot of Monsieur Le Quoi. He had but little,
he acknowledged; but that little was enough to furnish, in the language
of the country, an assortment for a store.

The knowledge of Marmaduke was eminently practical, and there was no
part of a settler’s life with which he was not familiar. Under his
direction, Monsieur Le Quoi made some purchases, consisting of a few
cloths; some groceries, with a good deal of gunpowder and tobacco; a
quantity of iron-ware, among which was a large proportion of Barlow’s
jack-knives, potash-kettles, and spiders; a very formidable collection
of crockery of the coarsest quality and most uncouth forms; together
with every other common article that the art of man has devised for his
wants, not forgetting the luxuries of looking-glasses and Jew’s-harps.
With this collection of valuables, Monsieur Le Quoi had stepped behind
a counter, and, with a wonderful pliability of temperament, had dropped
into his assumed character as gracefully as he had ever moved in any
other. The gentleness and suavity of his manners rendered him extremely
popular; besides this, the women soon discovered that he had taste. His
calicoes were the finest, or, in other words, the most showy, of any
that were brought into the country, and it was impossible to look at the
prices asked for his goods by “so pretty a spoken man,” Through
these conjoint means, the affairs of Monsieur Le Quoi were again in a
prosperous condition, and he was looked up to by the settlers as the
second best man on the “Patent.” *

  * The term “Patent” which we have already used, and for which we may
    have further occasion, meant the district of country that had been
    originally granted to old Major Effingham by the “king’s letters
    patent,” and which had now become, by purchase under the act of
    confiscation, the property of Marmaduke Temple.  It was a term in
    common use throughout the new parts of the State; and was usually
    annexed to the landlord’s name, as “Temple’s or Effingham’s Patent.”

Major Hartmann was a descendant of a man who, in company with a number
of his countrymen, had emigrated with their families from the banks of
the Rhine to those of the Mohawk. This migration had occurred as far
back as the reign of Queen Anne; and their descendants were now living,
in great peace and plenty, on the fertile borders of that beautiful
stream.

The Germans, or “High Dutchers,” as they were called, to distinguish
them from the original or Low Dutch colonists, were a very peculiar
people. They possessed all the gravity of the latter, without any of
their phlegm; and like them, the “High Dutchers” were industrious,
honest, and economical, Fritz, or Frederick Hartmann, was an epitome of
all the vices and virtues, foibles and excellences, of his race. He
was passionate though silent, obstinate, and a good deal suspicious of
strangers; of immovable courage, in flexible honesty, and undeviating in
his friendships. In deed there was no change about him, unless it were
from grave to gay. He was serious by months, and jolly by weeks. He had,
early in their acquaintance, formed an attachment for Marmaduke Temple,
who was the only man that could not speak High Dutch that ever gained
his en tire confidence Four times in each year, at periods equidistant,
he left his low stone dwelling on the banks of the Mohawk, and travelled
thirty miles, through the hills, to the door of the mansion-house in
Templeton. Here he generally stayed a week; and was reputed to spend
much of that time in riotous living, greatly countenanced by Mr. Richard
Jones. But every one loved him, even to Remarkable Pettibone, to whom he
occasioned some additional trouble, he was so frank, so sincere, and, at
times, so mirthful. He was now on his regular Christmas visit, and had
not been in the village an hour when Richard summoned him to fill a seat
in the sleigh to meet the landlord and his daughter.

Before explaining the character and situation of Mr. Grant, it will
be necessary to recur to times far back in the brief history of the
settlement.

There seems to be a tendency in human nature to endeavor to provide for
the wants of this world, before our attention is turned to the business
of the other. Religion was a quality but little cultivated amid the
stumps of Temple’s Patent for the first few years of its settlement;
but, as most of its inhabitants were from the moral States of
Connecticut and Massachusetts, when the wants of nature were satisfied
they began seriously to turn their attention to the introduction of
those customs and observances which had been the principal care of their
fore fathers. There was certainly a great variety of opinions on the
subject of grace and free-will among the tenantry of Marmaduke; and,
when we take into consideration the variety of the religious instruction
which they received, it can easily be seen that it could not well be
otherwise.

Soon after the village had been formally laid out into the streets and
blocks that resembled a city, a meeting of its inhabitants had been
convened, to take into consideration the propriety of establishing an
academy. This measure originated with Richard, who, in truth, was much
disposed to have the institution designated a university, or at least
a college. Meeting after meeting was held, for this purpose, year
after year. The resolutions of these as sembiages appeared in the most
conspicuous columns of a little blue-looking newspaper, that was already
issued weekly from the garret of a dwelling-house in the village, and
which the traveller might as often see stuck into the fissure of a
stake, erected at the point where the footpath from the log-cabin of
some settler entered the highway, as a post-office for an individual.
Sometimes the stake supported a small box, and a whole neighborhood
received a weekly supply for their literary wants at this point, where
the man who “rides post” regularly deposited a bundle of the precious
commodity. To these flourishing resolutions, which briefly recounted the
general utility of education, the political and geographical rights of
the village of Templeton to a participation in the favors of the regents
of the university, the salubrity of the air, and wholesomeness of the
water, together with the cheapness of food and the superior state of
morals in the neighbor hood, were uniformly annexed, in large Roman
capitals, the names of Marmaduke Temple as chairman and Richard Jones as
secretary.

Happily for the success of this undertaking, the regents were not
accustomed to resist these appeals to their generosity, whenever
there was the smallest prospect of a donation to second the request.
Eventually Judge Temple concluded to bestow the necessary land, and to
erect the required edifice at his own expense. The skill of Mr., or,
as he was now called, from the circumstance of having received the
commission of a justice of the peace, Squire Doolittle, was again put in
requisition; and the science of Mr. Jones was once more resorted to.

We shall not recount the different devices of the architects on the
occasion; nor would it be decorous so to do, seeing that there was a
convocation of the society of the ancient and honorable fraternity “of
the Free and Accepted Masons,” at the head of whom was Richard, in the
capacity of master, doubtless to approve or reject such of the plans as,
in their wisdom, they deemed to be for the best. The knotty point
was, however, soon decided; and, on the appointed day, the brotherhood
marched in great state, displaying sundry banners and mysterious
symbols, each man with a little mimic apron before him, from a most
cunningly contrived apartment in the garret of the “Bold Dragoon,” an
inn kept by one Captain Hollister, to the site of the intended edifice.
Here Richard laid the corner stone, with suitable gravity, amidst an
assemblage of more than half the men, and all the women, within ten
miles of Templeton.

In the course of the succeeding week there was another meeting of the
people, not omitting swarms of the gentler sex, when the abilities of
Hiram at the “square rule” were put to the test of experiment. The frame
fitted well; and the skeleton of the fabric was reared without a single
accident, if we except a few falls from horses while the laborers were
returning home in the evening. From this time the work advanced with
great rapidity, and in the course of the season the Labor was completed;
the edifice Manding, in all its heatity and proportions, the boast of
the village, the study of young aspirants for architectural fame, and
the admiration of every settler on the Patent.

It was a long, narrow house of wood, painted white, and more than
half windows; and, when the observer stood at the western side of the
building, the edifice offered but a small obstacle to a full view of the
rising sun. It was, in truth, but a very comfortless open place, through
which the daylight shone with natural facility. On its front were divers
ornaments in wood, designed by Richard and executed by Hiram; but a
window in the centre of the second story, immediately over the door or
grand entrance, and the “steeple” were the pride of the building. The
former was, we believe, of the composite order; for it included in its
composition a multitude of ornaments and a great variety of proportions.
It consisted of an arched compartment in the centres with a square and
small division on either side, the whole incased in heavy frames, deeply
and laboriously moulded in pine-wood, and lighted with a vast number of
blurred and green-looking glass of those dimensions which are commonly
called “eight by ten.” Blinds, that were intended to be painted green,
kept the window in a state of preservation, and probably might have
contributed to the effect of the whole, had not the failure in the
public funds, which seems always to be incidental to any undertaking of
this kind, left them in the sombre coat of lead-color with which they
had been originally clothed. The “steeple” was a little cupola, reared
on the very centre of the roof, on four tall pillars of pine that were
fluted with a gouge, and loaded with mouldings. On the tops of the
columns was reared a dome or cupola, resembling in shape an inverted
tea-cup without its bottom, from the centre of which projected a spire,
or shaft of wood, transfixed with two iron rods, that bore on their ends
the letters N. S. E. and W, in the same metal. The whole was surmounted
by an imitation of one of the finny tribe, carved in wood by the hands
of Richard, and painted what he called a “scale-color.” This animal Mr.
Jones affirmed to be an admirable resemblance of a great favorite of
the epicures in that country, which bore the title of “lake-fish,” and
doubtless the assertion was true; for, although intended to answer the
purposes of a weathercock, the fish was observed invariably to look with
a longing eye in the direction of the beautiful sheet of water that lay
imbedded in the mountains of Templeton.

For a short time after the charter of the regents was received, the
trustees of this institution employed a graduate of one of the Eastern
colleges to instruct such youth as aspired to knowledge within the walls
of the edifice which we have described. The upper part of the building
was in one apartment, and was intended for gala-days and exhibitions;
and the lower contained two rooms that were intended for the great
divisions of education, viz., the Latin and the English scholars. The
former were never very numerous; though the sounds of “nominative,
pennaa--genitive, penny,” were soon heard to issue from the windows
of the room, to the great delight and manifest edification of the
passenger.

Only one laborer in this temple of Minerva, however, was known to get so
far as to attempt a translation of Virgil. He, indeed, appeared at the
annual exhibition, to the prodigious exultation of all his relatives,
a farmer’s family in the vicinity, and repeated the whole of the first
eclogue from memory, observing the intonations of the dialogue with much
judgment and effect. The sounds, as they proceeded from his mouth, of

  “Titty-ree too patty-lee ree-coo-bans sub teg-mi-nee faa-gy
  Syl-ves-trem ten-oo-i moo-sam, med-i-taa-ris, aa-ve-ny.”

were the last that had been heard in that building, as probably they
were the first that had ever been heard, in the same language, there
or anywhere else. By this time the trustees discovered that they had
anticipated the age and the instructor, or principal, was superseded by
a master, who went on to teach the more humble lesson of “the more haste
the worst speed,” in good plain English.

From this time until the date of our incidents, the academy was a common
country school, and the great room of the building was sometimes used as
a court-room, on extraordinary trials; sometimes for conferences of the
religious and the morally disposed, in the evening; at others for a ball
in the afternoon, given under the auspices of Richard; and on Sundays,
invariably, as a place of public worship.

When an itinerant priest of the persuasion of the Methodists, Baptists,
Universalists, or of the more numerous sect of the Presbyterians,
was accidentally in the neighborhood, he was ordinarily invited to
officiate, and was commonly rewarded for his services by a collection in
a hat, before the congregation separated. When no such regular minister
offered, a kind of colloquial prayer or two was made by some of the
more gifted members, and a sermon was usually read, from Sterne, by Mr.
Richard Jones.

The consequence of this desultory kind of priesthood was, as we have
already intimated, a great diversity of opinion on the more abstruse
points of faith. Each sect had its adherents, though neither was
regularly organized and disciplined. Of the religious education of
Marmaduke we have already written, nor was the doubtful character of his
faith completely removed by his marriage. The mother of Elizabeth was
an Episcopalian, as indeed, was the mother of the Judge himself; and the
good taste of Marmaduke revolted at the familiar colloquies which
the leaders of the conferences held with the Deity, in their nightly
meetings. In form, he was certainly an Episcopalian, though not a
sectary of that denomination. On the other hand, Richard was as rigid in
the observance of the canons of his church as he was inflexible in
his opinions. Indeed, he had once or twice essayed to introduce the
Episcopal form of service, on the Sundays that the pulpit was vacant;
but Richard was a good deal addicted to carrying things to an excess,
and then there was some thing so papal in his air that the greater part
of his hearers deserted him on the second Sabbath--on the third his
only auditor was Ben Pump, who had all the obstinate and enlightened
orthodoxy of a high churchman.

Before the war of the Revolution, the English Church was supported in
the colonies, with much interest, by some of its adherents in the mother
country, and a few of the congregations were very amply endowed. But,
for the season, after the independence of the States was established,
this sect of Christians languished for the want of the highest order of
its priesthood. Pious and suitable divines were at length selected,
and sent to the mother country, to receive that authority which, it is
understood, can only be transmitted directly from one to the other, and
thus obtain, in order to reserve, that unity in their churches which
properly belonged to a people of the same nation. But unexpected
difficulties presented themselves, in the oaths with which the policy of
England had fettered their establishment; and much time was spent before
a conscientious sense of duty would permit the prelates of Britain to
delegate the authority so earnestly sought. Time, patience, and zeal,
however, removed every impediment, and the venerable men who had been
set apart by the American churches at length returned to their expecting
dioceses, endowed with the most elevated functions of their earthly
church. Priests and deacons were ordained, and missionaries provided,
to keep alive the expiring flame of devotion in such members as
were deprived of the ordinary administrations by dwelling in new and
unorganized districts.

Of this number was Mr. Grant. He had been sent into the county of which
Templeton was the capital, and had been kindly invited by Marmaduke, and
officiously pressed by Richard, to take up his abode in the village. A
small and humble dwelling was prepared for his family, and the divine
had made his appearance in the place but a few days previously to the
time of his introduction to the reader, As his forms were entirely new
to most of the inhabitants, and a clergyman of another denomination had
previously occupied the field, by engaging the academy, the first Sunday
after his arrival was allowed to pass in silence; but now that his
rival had passed on, like a meteor filling the air with the light of his
wisdom, Richard was empowered to give notice that “Public worship, after
the forms of the Protestant Episcopal Church, would be held on the night
before Christmas, in the long room of the academy in Templeton, by the
Rev. Mr. Grant.”

This annunciation excited great commotion among the different sectaries.
Some wondered as to the nature of the exhibition; others sneered; but
a far greater part, recollecting the essays of Richard in that way, and
mindful of the liberality, or rather laxity, of Marmaduke’s notions on
the subject of sectarianism, thought it most prudent to be silent.

The expected evening was, however, the wonder of the hour; nor was the
curiosity at all diminished when Richard and Benjamin, on the morning of
the eventful day, were seen to issue from the woods in the neighborhood
of the village, each bearing on his shoulders a large bunch of
evergreens. This worthy pair was observed to enter the academy, and
carefully to fasten the door, after which their proceedings remained
a profound secret to the rest of the village; Mr. Jones, before he
commenced this mysterious business, having informed the school-master,
to the great delight of the white-headed flock he governed, that
there could be no school that day. Marmaduke was apprised of all these
preparations by letter, and it was especially arranged that he and
Elizabeth should arrive in season to participate in the solemnities of
the evening.

After this digression, we shall return to our narrative.



CHAPTER IX.


     “Now all admire, in each high-flavored dish
     The capabilities of flesh--fowl--fish;
     In order due each guest assumes his station,
     Throbs high his breast with fond anticipation,
     And prelibates the joys of mastication.”
      --Heliogabaliad.

The apartment to which Monsieur Le Quoi handed Elizabeth communicated
with the hall, through the door that led under the urn which was
supposed to contain the ashes of Dido. The room was spacious, and of
very just proportions; but in its ornaments and furniture the same
diversity of taste and imperfection of execution were to be observed
as existed in the hall. Of furniture, there were a dozen green, wooden
arm-chairs, with cushions of moreen, taken from the same piece as the
petticoat of Remarkable. The tables were spread, and their materials and
workmanship could not be seen; but they were heavy and of great size, An
enormous mirror, in a gilt frame, hung against the wall, and a cheerful
fire, of the hard or sugar maple, was burning on the hearth. The latter
was the first object that struck the attention of the Judge, who on
beholding it exclaimed, rather angrily, to Richard:

“How often have I forbidden the use of the sugar maple in my dwelling!
The sight of that sap, as it exudes with the heat, is painful to me,
Richard, Really, it behooves the owner of woods so extensive as mine, to
be cautious what example he sets his people, who are already felling the
forests as if no end could be found to their treasures, nor any limits
to their extent. If we go on in this way, twenty years hence we shall
want fuel.”

“Fuel in these hills, Cousin ‘Duke!” exclaimed Richard, in
derision--“fuel! why, you might as well predict that the fish will die
for the want of water in the lake, because I intend, when the frost gets
out of the ground, to lead one or two of the spring; through logs, into
the village. But you are always a little wild on such subject;
Marmaduke.”

“Is it wildness,” returned the Judge earnestly, “to condemn a practice
which devotes these jewels of the forest, these precious gifts of
nature, these mines of corn, forest and wealth, to the common uses of a
fireplace? But I must, and will, the instant the snow is off the earth,
send out a party into the mountains to explore for coal.”

“Coal!” echoed Richard. “Who the devil do you think will dig for coal
when, in hunting for a bushel he would have to rip up more of trees
than would keep him in fuel for a twelvemonth? Poh! poh! Marmaduke: you
should leave the management of these things to me, who have a natural
turn that way. It was I that ordered this fire, and a noble one it is,
to warm the blood of my pretty Cousin Bess.”

“The motive, then, must be your apology, Dick,” said the
Judge.--“But, gentlemen, we are waiting.--Elizabeth, my child, take the
head of the table; Richard, I see, means to spare me the trouble of
carving, by sitting opposite to you.”

“To be sure I do,” cried Richard. “Here is a turkey to carve; and I
flatter myself that I understand carving a turkey, or, for that matter,
a goose, as well as any man alive.--Mr. Grant! Where’s Mr. Grant? Will
you please to say grace, sir? Everything in getting cold. Take a thing
from the fire this cold weather, and it will freeze in five minutes. Mr.
Grant, we want you to say grace. ‘For what we are about to receive,
the Lord make, us thankful Come, sit down, sit down. Do you eat wing or
breast, Cousin Bess?”

But Elizabeth had not taken her seat, nor Was she in readiness to
receive either the wing or breast. Her Laughing eyes were glancing at
the arrangements of the table, and the quality and selection of the
food. The eyes of the father soon met the wondering looks of his
daughter, and he said, with a smile:

“You perceive, my child, how much we are indebted to Remarkable for her
skill in housewifery. She has indeed provided a noble repast--such as
well might stop the cravings of hunger.”

“Law!” said Remarkable, “I’m glad if the Judge is pleased; but I’m
notional that you’ll find the sa’ce over done. I thought, as Elizabeth
was coming home, that a body could do no less than make things
agreeable.”

“My daughter has now grown to woman’s estate, and is from this moment
mistress of my house,” said the Judge; “it is proper that all who live
with me address her as Miss Temple.

“Do tell!” exclaimed Remarkable, a little aghast; “well, who ever heerd
of a young woman’s being called Miss? If the Judge had a wife now, I
shouldn’t think of calling her anything but Miss Temple; but--”

“Having nothing but a daughter you will observe that style to her, if
you please, in future,” interrupted Marmaduke.

As the Judge looked seriously displeased, and, at such moments, carried
a particularly commanding air with him, the wary housekeeper made no
reply; and, Mr. Grant entering the room, the whole party were seated
at the table. As the arrangements of this repast were much in the
prevailing taste of that period and country, we shall endeavor to give a
short description of the appearance of the banquet.

The table-linen was of the most beautiful damask, and the plates and
dishes of real china, an article of great luxury at this early period
of American commerce. The knives and forks were of exquisitely polished
steel, and were set in unclouded ivory. So much, being furnished by
the wealth of Marmaduke, was not only comfortable but even elegant. The
contents of the several dishes, and their positions, however, were the
result of the sole judgment of Remarkable. Before Elizabeth was placed
an enormous roasted turkey, and before Richard one boiled, in the centre
of the table stood a pair of heavy silver casters, surrounded by four
dishes: one a fricassee that consisted of gray squirrels; another
of fish fried; a third of fish boiled; the last was a venison steak.
Between these dishes and the turkeys stood, on the one side, a
prodigious chine of roasted bear’s meat, and on the other a boiled leg
of delicious mutton. Interspersed among this load of meats was every
species of vegetables that the season and country afforded. The four
corners were garnished with plates of cake. On one was piled certain
curiously twisted and complicated figures, called “nut-cakes,” On
another were heaps of a black-looking sub stance, which, receiving
its hue from molasses, was properly termed “sweet-cake;” a wonderful
favorite in the coterie of Remarkable, A third was filled, to use the
language of the housekeeper, with “cards of gingerbread;” and the last
held a “plum-cake,” so called from the number of large raisins that were
showing their black heads in a substance of suspiciously similar color.
At each corner of the table stood saucers, filled with a thick fluid of
some what equivocal color and consistence, variegated with small dark
lumps of a substance that resembled nothing but itself, which Remarkable
termed her “sweetmeats.” At the side of each plate, which was placed
bottom upward, with its knife and fork most accurately crossed above
it, stood another, of smaller size, containing a motley-looking pie,
composed of triangular slices of apple, mince, pump kin, cranberry, and
custard so arranged as to form an entire whole, Decanters of brandy,
rum, gin, and wine, with sundry pitchers of cider, beer, and one hissing
vessel of “flip,” were put wherever an opening would admit of their
introduction. Notwithstanding the size of the tables, there was scarcely
a spot where the rich damask could be seen, so crowded were the dishes,
with their associated bottles, plates, and saucers. The object seemed to
be profusion, and it was obtained entirely at the expense of order and
elegance.

All the guests, as well as the Judge himself, seemed perfectly familiar
with this description of fare, for each one commenced eating, with
an appetite that promised to do great honor to Remarkable’s taste and
skill. What rendered this attention to the repast a little surprising,
was the fact that both the German and Richard had been summoned from
another table to meet the Judge; but Major Hartmann both ate and drank
without any rule, when on his excursions; and Mr. Jones invariably made
it a point to participate in the business in hand, let it be what it
would. The host seemed to think some apology necessary for the warmth
he had betrayed on the subject of the firewood, and when the party
were comfortably seated, and engaged with their knives and forks, he
observed:

“The wastefulness of the settlers with the noble trees of this country
is shocking, Monsieur Le Quoi, as doubt less you have noticed. I have
seen a man fell a pine, when he has been in want of fencing stuff, and
roll his first cuts into the gap, where he left it to rot, though its
top would have made rails enough to answer his purpose, and its butt
would have sold in the Philadelphia market for twenty dollars.”

“And how the devil--I beg your pardon, Mr. Grant,” interrupted Richard:
“but how is the poor devil to get his logs to the Philadelphia market,
pray? put them in his pocket, ha! as you would a handful of chestnuts,
or a bunch of chicker-berries? I should like to see you walking up High
Street, with a pine log in each pocket!--Poh! poh! Cousin ‘Duke, there
are trees enough for us all, and some to spare. Why, I can hardly tell
which way the wind blows, when I’m out in the clearings, they are so
thick and so tall; I couldn’t at all, if it wasn’t for the clouds, and I
happen to know all the points of the compass, as it were, by heart.”

“Ay! ay! squire,” cried Benjamin, who had now entered and taken his
place behind the Judge’s chair, a little aside withal, in order to
be ready for any observation like the present; “look aloft, sir, look
aloft. The old seamen say, ‘that the devil wouldn’t make a sailor,
unless he looked aloft’ As for the compass, why, there is no such thing
as steering without one. I’m sure I never lose sight of the main-top, as
I call the squire’s lookout on the roof, but I set my compass, d’ye see,
and take the bearings and distance of things, in order to work out
my course, if so be that it should cloud up, or the tops of the trees
should shut out the light of heaven. The steeple of St. Paul’s, now that
we have got it on end, is a great help to the navigation of the woods,
for, by the Lord Harry! as was--”

“It is well, Benjamin,” interrupted Marmaduke, observing that his
daughter manifested displeasure at the major-domo’s familiarity; “but
you forget there is a lady in company, and the women love to do most of
the talking themselves.”

“The Judge says the true word,” cried Benjamin, with one of his
discordant laughs. “Now here is Mistress Remarkable Pettibones; just
take the stopper off her tongue, and you’ll hear a gabbling worse
like than if you should happen to fall to leeward in crossing a French
privateer, or some such thing, mayhap, as a dozen monkeys stowed in one
bag.”

It were impossible to say how perfect an illustration of the truth of
Benjamin’s assertion the housekeeper would have furnished, if she had
dared; but the Judge looked sternly at her, and unwilling to incur his
resentment, yet unable to contain her anger, she threw herself out of
the room with a toss of the body that nearly separated her frail form in
the centre.

“Richard,” said Marmaduke, observing that his displeasure had produced
the desired effect, “can you inform me of anything concerning the youth
whom I so unfortunately wounded? I found him on the mountain hunting in
company with the Leather-Stocking, as if they were of the same family;
but there is a manifest difference in their manners. The youth delivers
himself in chosen language, such as is seldom heard in these hills,
and such as occasions great surprise to me, how one so meanly clad,
and following so lowly a pursuit, could attain. Mohegan also knew him.
Doubtless he is a tenant of Natty’s hut. Did you remark the language of
the lad. Monsieur Le Quoi?”

“Certainement, Monsieur Temple,” returned the French man, “he deed
convairse in de excellent Anglaise.”

“The boy is no miracle,” exclaimed Richard; “I’ve known children that
were sent to school early, talk much better before they were twelve
years old. There was Zared Coe, old Nehemiah’s son, who first settled
on the beaver-dam meadow, he could write almost as good hand as myself,
when he was fourteen; though it’s true, I helped to teach him a little
in the evenings. But this shooting gentleman ought to be put in the
stocks, if he ever takes a rein in his hand again. He is the most
awkward fellow about a horse I ever met with. I dare say he never drove
anything but oxen in his life.”

“There, I think, Dickon, you do the lad injustice,” said the Judge; “he
uses much discretion in critical moments. Dost thou not think so, Bess?”

There was nothing in this question particularly to excite blushes, but
Elizabeth started from the revery into which she had fallen, and colored
to her forehead as she answered:

“To me, dear sir, he appeared extremely skilful, and prompt, and
courageous; but perhaps Cousin Richard will say I am as ignorant as the
gentleman himself.”

“Gentleman!” echoed Richard; “do you call such chaps gentlemen, at
school, Elizabeth?”

“Every man is a gentleman that knows how to treat a woman with respect
and consideration,” returned the young lady promptly, and a little
smartly.

“So much for hesitating to appear before the heiress in his
shirt-sleeves,” cried Richard, winking at Monsieur Le Quoi, who returned
the wink with one eye, while he rolled the other, with an expression of
sympathy, toward the young lady. “Well, well, to me he seemed anything
but a gentleman. I must say, however, for the lad, that he draws a
good trigger, and has a true aim. He’s good at shooting a buck, ha!
Marmaduke?”

“Richart,” said Major Hartmann, turning his grave countenance toward
the gentleman he addressed, with much earnestness, “ter poy is goot. He
savet your life, and my life, and ter life of i’ominie Grant, and ter
life of ter Frenchman; and, Richard, he shall never vant a pet to sleep
in vile olt Fritz Hartmann has a shingle to cover his het mit.”

“Well, well, as you please, old gentleman,” returned Mr. Jones,
endeavoring to look indifferent; “put him into your own stone house, if
you will, Major. I dare say the lad never slept in anything better than
a bark shanty in his life, unless it was some such hut as the cabin of
Leather-Stocking. I prophesy you will soon spoil him; any one could see
how proud he grew, in a short time, just because he stood by my horses’
heads while I turned them into the highway.”

“No, no, my old friend,” cried Marmaduke, “it shall be my task to
provide in some manner for the youth; I owe him a debt of my own,
besides the service he has done me through my friends. And yet I
anticipate some little trouble in inducing him to accept of my services.
He showed a marked dislike, I thought, Bess, to my offer of a residence
within these walls for life.”

“Really, dear sir,” said Elizabeth, projecting her beautiful under-lip,
“I have not studied the gentleman so closely as to read his feelings in
his countenance. I thought he might very naturally feel pain from his
wound, and therefore pitied him; but”--and as she spoke she glanced her
eye, with suppressed curiosity, toward the major-domo--“I dare say,
sir, that Benjamin can tell you something about him, he cannot have been
in the village, and Benjamin not have seen him often.”

“Ay! I have seen the boy before,” said Benjamin, who wanted little
encouragement to speak; “he has been backing and filling in the wake of
Natty Bumppo, through the mountains, after deer, like a Dutch
long-boat in tow of an Albany sloop. He carries a good rifle, too, ‘the
Leather-Stocking said, in my hearing, before Betty Hollister’s bar-room
fire, no later than the Tuesday night, that the younger was certain
death to the wild beasts. If so be he can kill the wild-cat that has
been heard moaning on the lake-side since the hard frosts and deep snows
have driven the deer to herd, he will be doing the thing that is good.
Your wild-cat is a bad shipmate, and should be made to cruise out of the
track of Christian men.”

“Lives he in the hut of Bumppo?” asked Marmaduke, with some interest.

“Cheek by jowl; the Wednesday will be three weeks since he first hove
in sight, in company with Leather-Stocking. They had captured a wolf
between them, and had brought in his scalp for the bounty. That Mister
Bump-ho has a handy turn with him in taking off a scalp; and there’s
them, in this here village, who say he l’arnt the trade by working
on Christian men. If so be that there is truth in the saying, and I
commanded along shore here, as your honor does, why, d’ye see, I’d
bring him to the gangway for it, yet. There’s a very pretty post rigged
alongside of the stocks; and for the matter of a cat, I can fit one with
my own hands; ay! and use it too, for the want of a better.”

“You are not to credit the idle tales you hear of Natty; he has a kind
of natural right to gain a livelihood in these mountains; and if the
idlers in the village take it into their heads to annoy him, as they
sometimes do reputed rogues, they shall find him protected by the strong
arm of the law.”

“Ter rifle is petter as ter law,” said the Major sententiously.

“That for his rifle!” exclaimed Richard, snapping his fingers; “Ben is
right, and I--” He was stopped by the sound of a common ship-bell, that
had been elevated to the belfry of the academy, which now announced,
by its incessant ringing, that the hour for the appointed service had
arrived. “‘For this and every other instance of his goodness--’ I beg
pardon, Mr. Grant, will you please to return thanks, sir? It is time we
should be moving, as we are the only Episcopalians in the neighborhood;
that is, I and Benjamin, and Elizabeth; for I count half--breeds, like
Marmaduke as bad as heretics.”

The divine arose and performed the office meekly and fervently, and the
whole party instantly prepared them selves for the church--or rather
academy.



CHAPTER X.


     “And calling sinful man to pray,
     Loud, long, and deep the bell had tolled.”
      --Scotts Burgher

While Richard and Monsieur Le Quoi, attended by Benjamin, proceeded to
the academy by a foot-path through the snow, the judge, his daughter,
the divine, and the Major took a more circuitous route to the same place
by the streets of the village.

The moon had risen, and its orb was shedding a flood of light over
the dark outline of pines which crowned the eastern mountain. In many
climates the sky would have been thought clear and lucid for a noontide.
The stars twinkled in the heavens, like the last glimmerings of distant
fire, so much were they obscured by the overwhelming radiance of the
atmosphere; the rays from the moon striking upon the smooth, white
surfaces of the lake and fields, reflecting upward a light that was
brightened by the spotless color of the immense bodies of snow which
covered the earth.

Elizabeth employed herself with reading the signs, one of which appeared
over almost every door; while the sleigh moved steadily, and at an easy
gait, along the principal street. Not only new occupations, but names
that were strangers to her ears, met her gaze at every step they
proceeded. The very houses seemed changed. This had been altered by an
addition; that had been painted; another had been erected on the site
of an old acquaintance, which had been banished from the earth almost as
soon as it made its appearance on it. All were, however, pouring forth
their inmates, who uniformly held their way toward the point where the
expected exhibition of the conjoint taste of Richard and Benjamin was to
be made.

After viewing the buildings, which really appeared to some advantage
under the bright but mellow light of the moon, our heroine turned her
eyes to a scrutiny of the different figures they passed, in search of
any form that she knew. But all seemed alike, as muffled in cloaks,
hoods, coats, or tippets, they glided along the narrow passages in the
snow which led under the houses, half hid by the bank that had been
thrown up in excavating the deep path in which they trod. Once or twice
she thought there was a stature or a gait that she recollected; but thc
person who owned it instantly disappeared behind one of those enormous
piles of wood that lay before most of the doors, It was only as they
turned from the main street into another that intersected it at right
angles, and which led directly to the place of meeting, that she
recognized a face and building that she knew.

The house stood at one of the principal corners in the village; and by
its well-trodden doorway, as well as the sign that was swinging with
a kind of doleful sound in the blasts that occasionally swept down the
lake, was clearly one of the most frequented inns in the place. The
building was only of one story; but the dormer-windows in the roof, the
paint, the window-shutters, and the cheerful fire that shone through the
open door, gave it an air of comfort that was not possessed by many of
its neighbors. The sign was suspended from a common ale-house post, and
represented the figure of a horseman, armed with sabre and pistols,
and surmounted by a bear-skin cap, with a fiery animal that he bestrode
“rampant.” All these particulars were easily to be seen by the aid of
the moon, together with a row of somewhat illegible writing in black
paint, but in which Elizabeth, to whom the whole was familiar, read with
facility, “The Bold Dragoon.”

A man and a woman were issuing from the door of this habitation as the
sleigh was passing, The former moved with a stiff, military step, that
was a good deal heightened by a limp in one leg; but the woman advanced
with a measure and an air that seemed not particularly regardful of what
she might encounter. The light of the moon fell directly upon her full,
broad, and red visage, exhibiting her masculine countenance, under the
mockery of a ruffled cap that was intended to soften the lineamints of
features that were by no means squeamish. A small bonnet of black silk,
and of a slightly formal cut, was placed on the back of her head, but so
as not to shade her visage in the least. The face, as it encountered
the rays of the moon from the east, seemed not unlike sun rising in the
west. She advanced with masculine strides to intercept the sleigh; and
the Judge, directing the namesake of the Grecian king, who held the
lines, to check his horse, the par ties were soon near to each other.

“Good luck to ye, and a welcome home, Jooge,” cried the female, with a
strong Irish accent; “and I’m sure it’s to me that ye’re always welcome.
Sure! and there’s Miss Lizzy, and a fine young woman she is grown. What
a heart-ache would she be giving the young men now, if there was sich
a thing as a rigiment in the town! Och! but it’s idle to talk of sich
vanities, while the bell is calling us to mateing jist as we shall be
called away unexpictedly some day, when we are the laist calkilating.
Good-even, Major; will I make the bowl of gin toddy the night, or it’s
likely ye’ll stay at the big house the Christmas eve, and the very night
of yer getting there?”

“I am glad to see you, Mrs. Hollister,” returned Elizabeth. “I have
been trying to find a face that I knew since we left the door of the
mansion-house; but none have I seen except your own. Your house, too, is
unaltered, while all the others are so changed that, but for the places
where they stand, they would be utter strangers. I observe you also keep
the dear sign that I saw Cousin Richard paint; and even the name at the
bottom, about which, you may remember, you had the disagreement.”

“It is the bould dragoon, ye mane? And what name would he have, who
niver was known by any other, as my husband here, the captain, can
testify? He was a pleasure to wait upon, and was ever the foremost in
need. Och! but he had a sudden end! but it’s to be hoped that he was
justified by the cause, And it’s not Parson Grant there who’ll gainsay
that same. Yes, yes; the squire would paint, and so I thought that we
might have his face up there, who had so often shared good and evil wid
us. The eyes is no so large nor so fiery as the captain’s Own; but the
whiskers and the cap is as two paes. Well, well, I’ll not keep ye in the
cowld, talking, but will drop in the morrow after sarvice, and ask ye
how ye do. It’s our bounden duty to make the most of this present, and
to go to the house which is open to all; so God bless ye, and keep ye
from evil! Will I make the gin-twist the night, or no, Major?”

To this question the German replied, very sententiously, in the
affirmative; and, after a few words had passed between the husband of
the fiery-faced hostess and the Judge, the sleigh moved on. It soon
reached the door of the academy, where the party alighted and entered
the building.

In the mean time, Mr. Jones and his two companions, having a much
shorter distance to journey, had arrived before the appointed place some
minutes sooner than the party in the sleigh. Instead of hastening into
the room in order to enjoy the astonishment of the settlers, Richard
placed a hand in either pocket of his surcoat, and affected to walk
about, in front of the academy, like one to whom the ceremonies were
familiar.

The villagers proceeded uniformly into the building, with a decorum and
gravity that nothing could move, on such occasions; but with a haste
that was probably a little heightened by curiosity. Those who came in
from the adjacent country spent some little time in placing certain blue
and white blankets over their horses before they proceeded to indulge
their desire to view the interior of the house. Most of these men
Richard approached, and inquired after the health and condition of their
families. The readiness with which he mentioned the names of even
the children, showed how very familiarly acquainted he was with their
circumstances; and the nature of the answers he received proved that he
was a general favorite.

At length one of the pedestrians from the village stopped also, and
fixed an earnest gaze at a new brick edifice that was throwing a long
shadow across the fields of snow, as it rose, with a beautiful gradation
of light and shade, under the rays of a full moon. In front of the
academy was a vacant piece of ground, that was intended for a public
square. On the side opposite to Mr. Jones, the new and as yet unfinished
church of St. Paul’s was erected, This edifice had been reared during
the preceding summer, by the aid of what was called a subscription;
though all, or nearly all, of the money came from the pockets of the
landlord. It had been built under a strong conviction of the necessity
of a more seemly place of worship than “the long room of the academy,”
 and under an implied agreement that, after its completion, the question
should be fairly put to the people, that they might decide to what
denomination it should belong. Of course, this expectation kept alive
a strong excitement in some few of the sectaries who were interested
in its decision; though but little was said openly on the subject. Had
Judge Temple espoused the cause of any particular sect, the question
would have been immediately put at rest, for his influence was too
powerful to be opposed; but he declined interference in the matter,
positively refusing to lend even the weight of his name on the side of
Richard, who had secretly given an assurance to his diocesan that both
the building and the congregation would cheerfully come within the pale
of the Protestant Episcopal Church. But, when the neutrality of the
Judge was clearly ascertained, Mr. Jones discovered that he had to
contend with a stiff necked people. His first measure was to go among
them and commence a course of reasoning, in order to bring them round
to his own way of thinking. They all heard him patiently, and not a man
uttered a word in reply in the way of argument, and Richard thought,
by the time that he had gone through the settlement, the point was
conclusively decided in his favor. Willing to strike while the iron was
hot, he called a meeting, through the news paper, with a view to decide
the question by a vote at once. Not a soul attended; and one of the most
anxious afternoons that he had ever known was spent by Richard in a
vain discussion with Mrs. Hollister, who strongly contended that the
Methodist (her own) church was the best entitled to and most deserving
of, the possession of the new tabernacle. Richard now perceived that he
had been too sanguine, and had fallen into the error of all those
who ignorantly deal with that wary and sagacious people. He assumed a
disguise himself--that is, as well as he knew how, and proceeded step by
step to advance his purpose.

The task of erecting the building had been unanimously transferred
to Mr. Jones and Hiram Doolittle. Together they had built the
mansion-house, the academy, and the jail, and they alone knew how to
plan and rear such a structure as was now required. Early in the day,
these architects had made an equitable division of their duties. To the
former was assigned the duty of making all the plans, and to the latter
the labor of superintending the execution.

Availing himself of this advantage, Richard silently determined that the
windows should have the Roman arch; the first positive step in effecting
his wishes. As the building was made of bricks, he was enabled to
conceal his design until the moment arrived for placing the frames;
then, indeed, it became necessary to act. He communicated his wishes
to Hiram with great caution; and, without in the least adverting to the
spiritual part of his project, he pressed the point a little warmly
on the score of architectural beauty. Hiram heard him patiently, and
without contradiction, but still Richard was unable to discover the
views of his coadjutor on this interesting subject. As the right to plan
was duly delegated to Mr. Jones, no direct objection was made in words.
but numberless unexpected difficulties arose in the execution. At first
there was a scarcity in the right kind of material necessary to form the
frames; but this objection was instantly silenced by Richard running his
pencil through two feet of their length at one stroke. Then the expense
was mentioned; but Richard reminded Hiram that his cousin paid, and that
he was treasurer. This last intimation had great weight, and after a
silent and protracted, but fruitless opposition, the work was suffered
to proceed on the original plan.

The next difficulty occurred in the steeple, which Richard had modelled
after one of the smaller of those spires that adorn the great London
cathedral. The imitation was somewhat lame, it was true, the proportions
being but in differently observed; but, after much difficulty, Mr.
Jones had the satisfaction of seeing an object reared that bore in its
outlines, a striking resemblance to a vinegar-cruet. There was less
opposition to this model than to the windows; for the settlers were fond
of novelty, and their steeple was without a precedent.

Here the labor ceased for the season, and the difficult question of the
interior remained for further deliberation. Richard well knew that, when
he came to propose a reading-desk and a chancel, he must unmask; for
these were arrangements known to no church in the country but his own.
Presuming, however, on the advantages he had already obtained, he boldly
styled the building St. Paul’s, and Hiram prudently acquiesced in this
appellation, making, however, the slight addition of calling it “New
St. Paul’s,” feeling less aversion to a name taken from the English
cathedral than from the saint.

The pedestrian whom we have already mentioned, as pausing to contemplate
this edifice, was no other than the gentleman so frequently named as
Mr. or Squire Doolittle. He was of a tall, gaunt formation, with rather
sharp features, and a face that expressed formal propriety mingled with
low cunning. Richard approached him, followed by Monsieur Le Quoi and
the major-domo.

“Good-evening, squire,” said Richard, bobbing his head, but without
moving his hands from his pockets.

“Good-evening, squire,” echoed Hiram, turning his body in order to turn
his head also.

“A cold night, Mr. Doolittle, a cold night, sir.”

“Coolish; a tedious spell on’t.”

“What, looking at our church, ha! It looks well, by moonlight; how the
tin of the cupola glistens! I warrant you the dome of the other St.
Paul’s never shines so in the smoke of London.”

“It is a pretty meeting-house to look on,” returned Hiram, “and I
believe that Monshure Ler Quow and Mr. Penguilliam will allow it.”

“Sairtainlee!” exclaimed the complaisant Frenchman, “it ees ver fine.”

“I thought the monshure would say so. The last molasses that we had was
excellent good. It isn’t likely that you have any more of it on hand?”

“Ah! oui; ees, sair,” returned Monsieur Le Quoi, with a slight shrug of
his shoulder, and a trifling grimace, “dere is more. I feel ver happi
dat you love eet. I hope dat Madame Doleet’ is in good ‘ealth.”

“Why, so as to be stirring,” said Hiram. “The squire hasn’t finished the
plans for the inside of the meeting house yet?”

“No--no--no,” returned Richard, speaking quickly, but making a
significant pause between each negative--.. “it requires reflection.
There is a great deal of room to fill up, and I am afraid we shall not
know how to dispose of it to advantage. There will be a large vacant
spot around the pulpit, which I do not mean to place against the wall,
like a sentry-box stuck up on the side of a fort.”

“It is rulable to put the deacons’ box under the pulpit,” said Hiram;
and then, as if he had ventured too much, he added, “but there’s
different fashions in different Countries.”

“That there is,” cried Benjamin; “now, in running down the coast of
Spain and Portingall, you may see a nunnery stuck out on every headland,
with more steeples and outriggers such as dog-vanes and weathercocks,
than you’ll find aboard of a three-masted schooner. If so be that a
well-built church is wanting, old England, after all, is the country
to go to after your models and fashion pieces. As to Paul’s, thof I’ve
never seen it, being that it’s a long way up town from Radcliffe Highway
and the docks, yet everybody knows that it’s the grandest place in the
world Now, I’ve no opinion but this here church over there is as like
one end of it as a grampus is to a whale; and that’s only a small
difference in bulk. Mounsheer Ler Quaw, here, has been in foreign parts;
and thof that is not the same as having been at home, yet he must have
seen churches in France too, and can form a small idee of what a church
should be; now I ask the mounsheer to his face if it is not a clever
little thing, taking it by and large.”

“It ees ver apropos of saircumstance,” said the Frenchman--“ver
judgment--but it is in the catholique country dat dey build dc--vat you
call--ah a ah-ha--la grande cathédrale--de big church. St. Paul, Londre,
is ver fine; ver belle; ver grand--vat you call beeg; but, Monsieur Ben,
pardonnez-moi, it is no vort so much as Notre Dame.”

“Ha! mounsheer, what is that you say?” cried Benjamin; “St. Paul’s
church is not worth so much as a damn! Mayhap you may be thinking too
that the Royal Billy isn’t so good a ship as the Billy de Paris; but she
would have licked two of her any day, and in all weathers.”

As Benjamin had assumed a very threatening kind of attitude, flourishing
an arm with a bunch at the end of it that was half as big as Monsieur Le
Quoi’s head, Richard thought it time to interpose his authority.

“Hush, Benjamin, hush,” he said; “you both misunderstand Monsieur Le
Quoi and forget yourself. But here comes Mr. Grant, and the service will
commence. Let us go in.”

The Frenchman, who received Benjamin’s reply with a well-bred good-humor
that would not admit of any feeling but pity for the other’s ignorance,
bowed in acquiescence and followed his companion.

Hiram and the major-domo brought up the rear, the latter grumbling as he
entered the building:

“If so be that the king of France had so much as a house to live in that
would lay alongside of Paul’s, one might put up with their jaw. It’s
more than flesh and blood can bear to hear a Frenchman run down an
English church in this manner. Why, Squire Doolittle, I’ve been at the
whipping of two of them in one day--clean built, snug frigates
with standing royals and them new-fashioned cannonades on their
quarters--such as, if they had only Englishmen aboard of them, would
have fout the devil.”

With this ominous word in his mouth Benjamin entered the church.



CHAPTER XI.


     “And fools who came to scoff, remained to pray.”
      --Goldsmith.

Notwithstanding the united labors of Richard and Benjamin, the “long
room” was but an extremely inartificial temple. Benches; made in the
coarsest manner, and entirely with a view to usefulness, were arranged
in rows for the reception of the Congregation; while a rough, unpainted
box was placed against the wall, in the centre of the length of the
apartment, as an apology for a pulpit. Something like a reading-desk
was in front of this rostrum; and a small mahogany table from the
mansion-house, covered with a spotless damask cloth, stood a little on
one side, by the way of an altar. Branches of pines and hemlocks were
stuck in each of the fissures that offered in the unseasoned and
hastily completed woodwork of both the building and its furniture; while
festoons and hieroglyphics met the eye in vast profusion along the brown
sides of the scratch-coated walls. As the room was only lighted by some
ten or fifteen miserable candles, and the windows were without shutters,
it would have been but a dreary, cheerless place for the solemnities of
a Christmas eve, had not the large fire that was crackling at each end
of the apartment given an air of cheerfulness to the scene, by throwing
an occasional glare of light through the vistas of bushes and faces.

The two sexes were separated by an area in the centre of the room
immediately before the pulpit; amid a few benches lined this space,
that were occupied by the principal personages of the village and its
vicinity. This distinction was rather a gratuitous concession made by
the poorer and less polished part of the population than a right claimed
by the favored few. One bench was occupied by the party of Judge Temple,
including his daughter, and, with the exception of Dr. Todd, no one else
appeared willing to incur the imputation of pride, by taking a seat in
what was, literally, the high place of the tabernacle.

Richard filled the chair that was placed behind another table, in the
capacity of clerk; while Benjamin, after heaping sundry logs on the
fire, posted himself nigh by, in reserve for any movement that might
require co-operation.

It would greatly exceed our limits to attempt a description of the
congregation, for the dresses were as various as the individuals. Some
one article of more than usual finery, and perhaps the relic of other
days, was to be seen about most of the females, in connection with
the coarse attire of the woods. This wore a faded silk, that had
gone through at least three generations, over coarse, woollen black
stockings; that, a shawl, whose dyes were as numerous as those of the
rainbow, over an awkwardly fitting gown of rough brown “woman’s wear.”
 In short, each one exhibited some favorite article, and all appeared
in their best, both men and women; while the ground-works in dress,
in either sex, were the coarse fabrics manufactured within their own
dwellings. One man appeared in the dress of a volunteer company of
artillery, of which he had been a member in the “down countries,”
 precisely for no other reason than because it was the best suit he had.
Several, particularly of the younger men, displayed pantaloons of
blue, edged with red cloth down the seams part of the equipments of the
“Templeton Light Infantry,” from a little vanity to be seen in “boughten
clothes.” There was also one man in a “rifle frock,” with its fringes
and folds of spotless white, striking a chill to the heart with the idea
of its coolness, although the thick coat of brown “home-made” that was
concealed beneath preserved a proper degree of warmth.

There was a marked uniformity of expression in Countenance, especially
in that half of the congregation who did not enjoy the advantages of
the polish of the village. A sallow skin, that indicated nothing
but exposure, was common to all, as was an air of great decency and
attention, mingled, generally, with an expression of shrewdness, and in
the present instance of active curiosity. Now and then a face and dress
were to be seen among the congregation, that differed entirely from this
description. If pock-marked and florid, with gartered legs, and a coat
that snugly fitted the person of the wearer, it was surely an English
emigrant, who had bent his steps to this retired quarter of the globe.
If hard-featured and without color, with high cheek-bones, it was a
native of Scotland, in similar circumstances.

The short, black-eyed man, with a cast of the swarthy Spaniard in his
face, who rose repeatedly to make room for the belles of the village as
they entered, was a son of Erin, who had lately left off his pack, and
become a stationary trader in Templeton. In short, half the nations in
the north of Europe had their representatives in this assembly, though
all had closely assimilated themselves to the Americans in dress and
appearance, except the English man. He, indeed, not only adhered to his
native customs in attire and living, but usually drove his plough among
the stumps in the same manner as he had before done on the plains of
Norfolk, until dear-bought experience taught him the useful lesson that
a sagacious people knew what was suited to their circumstances better
than a casual observer, or a sojourner who was, perhaps, too much
prejudiced to compare and, peradventure, too conceited to learn.

Elizabeth soon discovered that she divided the attention of the
congregation with Mr. Grant. Timidity, therefore, confined her
observation of the appearances which we have described to stoles
glances; but, as the stamping of feet was now becoming less frequent,
and even the coughing, and other little preliminaries of a congregation
settling themselves down into reverential attention, were ceasing, she
felt emboldened to look around her. Gradually all noises diminished,
until the suppressed cough denoted that it was necessary to avoid
singularity, and the most pro found stillness pervaded the apartment.
The snapping of the fires, as they threw a powerful heat into the room,
was alone heard, and each face and every eye were turned on the divine.

At this moment, a heavy stamping of feet was heard in the passage
below, as if a new-corner was releasing his limbs from the snow that was
necessarily clinging to the legs of a pedestrian. It was succeeded by
no audible tread; but directly Mohegan, followed by the Leather-Stocking
and the young hunter, made his appearance.

Their footsteps would not have been heard, as they trod the apartment in
their moccasins, but for the silence which prevailed.

The Indian moved with great gravity across the floor, and, observing a
vacant seat next to the Judge, he took it, in a manner that manifested
his sense of his own dignity. Here, drawing his blanket closely around
him so as partly to conceal his countenance, he remained during the
service immovable, but deeply attentive. Natty passed the place that was
so freely taken by his red companion, and seated himself on one end of
a log that was lying near the fire, where he continued, with his rifle
standing between his legs, absorbed in reflections seemingly of no very
pleasing nature. The youth found a seat among the congregation, and
another silence prevailed.

Mr. Grant now arose and commenced his service with the sublime
declaration of the Hebrew prophet: “The Lord is in His holy temple; let
all the earth keep silence before Him.” The example of Mr. Jones was
unnecessary to teach the congregation to rise; the solemnity of the
divine effected this as by magic. After a short pause, Mr. Grant
proceeded with the solemn and winning exhortation of his service.
Nothing was heard but the deep though affectionate tones of the reader,
as he went slowly through this exordium; until, something unfortunately
striking the mind of Richard as incomplete, he left his place and walked
on tiptoe from the room.

When the clergyman bent his knees in prayer and confession, the
congregation so far imitated his example as to resume their seats;
whence no succeeding effort of the divine, during the evening, was able
to remove them in a body. Some rose at times; but by far the larger
part continued unbending; observant, it is true, but it was the kind
of observation that regarded the ceremony as a spectacle rather than a
worship in which they were to participate. Thus deserted by his clerk
Mr. Grant continued to read; but no response was audible. The short
and solemn pause that succeeded each petition was made; still no voice
repeated the eloquent language of the prayer.

The lips of Elizabeth moved, but they moved in vain and accustomed
as she was to the service of the churches of the metropolis, she was
beginning to feel the awkwardness of the circumstance most painfully
when a soft, low female voice repeated after the priest, “We have left
undone those things which we ought to have done.” Startled at finding
one of her own sex in that place who could rise superior to natural
timidity, Miss Temple turned her eyes in the direction of the penitent.
She observed a young female on her knees, but a short distance from her,
with her meek face humbly bent over her book.

The appearance of this stranger, for such she was, entirely, to
Elizabeth, was light and fragile. Her dress was neat and becoming;
and her countenance, though pale and slightly agitated, excited deep
interest by its sweet and melancholy expression. A second and third
response was made by this juvenile assistant, when the manly sounds of
a male voice proceeded from the opposite part of the room, Miss Temple
knew the tones of the young hunter instantly, and struggling to overcome
her own diffidence she added her low voice to the number.

All this time Benjamin stood thumbing the leaves of a prayer-book with
great industry; but some unexpected difficulties prevented his finding
the place. Before the divine reached the close of the confession,
however, Richard reappeared at the door, and, as he moved lightly across
the room, he took up the response, in a voice that betrayed no other
concern than that of not being heard. In his hand he carried a small
open box, with the figures “8 by 10” written in black paint on one of
its sides; which, having placed in the pulpit, apparently as a footstool
for the divine, he returned to his station in time to say, sonorously,
“Amen.” The eyes of the congregation, very naturally, were turned to the
windows, as Mr. Jones entered with his singular load; and then, as if
accustomed to his “general agency,” were again bent on the priest, in
close and curious attention.

The long experience of Mr. Grant admirably qualified him to perform his
present duty. He well understood the character of his listeners, who
were mostly a primitive people in their habits; and who, being a good
deal addicted to subtleties and nice distinctions in their religious
opinions, viewed the introduction of any such temporal assistance as
form into their spiritual worship not only with jealousy, but frequently
with disgust. He had acquired much of his knowledge from studying the
great book of human nature as it lay open in the world; and, knowing
how dangerous it was to contend with ignorance, uniformly endeavored
to avoid dictating where his better reason taught him it was the most
prudent to attempt to lead, His orthodoxy had no dependence on his
cassock; he could pray with fervor and with faith, if circumstances
required it, without the assistance of his clerk; and he had even been
known to preach a most evangelical sermon, in the winning manner of
native eloquence, without the aid of a cambric handkerchief.

In the present instance he yielded, in many places, to the prejudices
of his congregation; and when he had ended, there was not one of his new
hearers who did not think the ceremonies less papal and offensive, and
more conformant to his or her own notions of devout worship, than they
had been led to expect from a service of forms, Richard found in the
divine, during the evening, a most powerful co-operator in his religious
schemes. In preaching, Mr. Grant endeavored to steer a middle course
between the mystical doctrines of those sublimated creeds which daily
involve their professors in the most absurd contradictions, and those
fluent roles of moral government which would reduce the Saviour to a
level with the teacher of a school of ethics. Doctrine it was necessary
to preach, for nothing less would have satisfied the disputatious people
who were his listeners, and who would have interpreted silence on his
part into a tacit acknowledgment of the superficial nature of his
creed. We have already said that, among the endless variety of religious
instructors, the settlers were accustomed to hear every denomination
urge its own distinctive precepts, and to have found one indifferent to
this Interesting subject would have been destructive to his influence.
But Mr. Grant so happily blended the universally received opinions of
the Christian faith with the dogmas of his own church that, although
none were entirely exempt from the influence of his reasons, very few
took any alarm at the innovation.

“When we consider the great diversity of the human character, influenced
as it is by education, by opportunity, and by the physical and moral
conditions of the creature, my dear hearers,” he earnestly concluded “it
can excite no surprise that creeds so very different in their
tendencies should grow out of a religion revealed, it is true, but whose
revelations are obscured by the lapse of ages, and whose doctrines were,
after the fashion of the countries in which they were first promulgated,
frequently delivered in parables, and in a language abounding in
metaphors and loaded with figures. On points where the learned have,
in purity of heart, been compelled to differ, the unlettered will
necessarily be at variance. But, happily for us, my brethren, the
fountain of divine love flows from a source too pure to admit of
pollution in its course; it extends, to those who drink of its vivifying
waters, the peace of the righteous, and life everlasting; it endures
through all time, and it pervades creation. If there be mystery in its
workings, it is the mystery of a Divinity. With a clear knowledge of the
nature, the might, and the majesty of God, there might be conviction,
but there could be no faith. If we are required to believe in doctrines
that seem not in conformity with the deductions of human wisdom, let us
never forget that such is the mandate of a wisdom that is infinite. It
is sufficient for us that enough is developed to point our path aright,
and to direct our wandering steps to that portal which shall open on the
light of an eternal day. Then, indeed, it may be humbly hoped that the
film which has been spread by the subtleties of earthly arguments will
be dissipated by the spiritual light of Heaven; and that our hour of
probation, by the aid of divine grace, being once passed in triumph,
will be followed by an eternity of intelligence and endless ages of
fruition. All that is now obscure shall become plain to our expanded
faculties; and what to our present senses may seem irreconcilable to
our limited notions of mercy, of justice, and of love, shall stand
irradiated by the light of truth, confessedly the suggestions of
Omniscience, and the acts of an All-powerful Benevolence.”

“What a lesson of humility, my brethren, might not each of us obtain
from a review of his infant hours, and the recollection of his juvenile
passions! How differently do the same acts of parental rigor appear
in the eyes of the suffering child and of the chastened man! When the
sophist would supplant, with the wild theories of his worldly wisdom,
the positive mandates of inspiration, let him remember the expansion of
his own feeble intellects, and pause--let him feel the wisdom of God
in what is partially concealed as well as that which is revealed; in
short, let him substitute humility for pride of reason--let him have
faith, and live!”

“The consideration of this subject is full of consolation, my hearers,
and does not fail to bring with it lessons of humility and of profit,
that, duly improved, would both chasten the heart and strengthen the
feeble-minded man in his course. It is a blessed consolation to be able
to lay the misdoubtings of our arrogant nature at the thresh old of the
dwelling-place of the Deity, from whence they shall be swept away, at
the great opening of the portal, like the mists of the morning before
the rising sun. It teaches us a lesson of humility, by impressing us
with the imperfection of human powers, and by warning us of the many
weak points where we are open to the attack of the great enemy of our
race; it proves to us that we are in danger of being weak, when our
vanity would fain soothe us into the belief that we are most strong; it
forcibly points out to us the vainglory of intellect, and shows us
the vast difference between a saving faith and the corollaries of a
philosophical theology; and it teaches us to reduce our self-examination
to the test of good works. By good works must be understood the fruits
of repentance, the chiefest of which is charity. Not that charity only
which causes us to help the needy and comfort the suffering, but that
feeling of universal philanthropy which, by teaching us to love,
causes us to judge with lenity all men; striking at the root of
self-righteousness, and warning us to be sparing of our condemnation of
others, while our own salvation is not yet secure.”

“The lesson of expediency, my brethren, which I would gather from the
consideration of this subject, is most strongly inculcated by humility.
On the heading and essential points of our faith, there is but little
difference among those classes of Christians who acknowledge the
attributes of the Saviour, and depend on his mediation. But heresies
have polluted every church, and schisms are the fruit of disputation. In
order to arrest these dangers, and to insure the union of his followers,
it would seem that Christ had established his visible church and
delegated the ministry. Wise and holy men, the fathers of our religion,
have expended their labors in clearing what was revealed from the
obscurities of language, and the results of their experience and
researches have been em bodied in the form of evangelical discipline
That this discipline must be salutary, is evident from the view of the
weakness of human nature that we have already taken; and that it may be
profitable to us, and all who listen to its precepts and its liturgy,
may God, in his infinite wisdom, grant!--And now to,” etc.

With this ingenious reference to his own forms and ministry, Mr. Grant
concluded his discourse. The most profound attention had been paid to
the sermon during the whole of its delivery, although the prayers had
not been received with so perfect demonstration of respect. This was by
no means an intended slight of that liturgy to which the divine alluded,
but was the habit of a people who owed their very existence, as a
distinct nation, to the doctrinal character of their ancestors. Sundry
looks of private dissatisfaction were exchanged between Hiram and one
or two of the leading members of the conference, but the feeling went no
further at that time; and the congregation, after receiving the blessing
of Mr. Grant., dispersed in Silence, and with great decorum.



CHAPTER XII.


     “Your creeds and dogmas of a learned church
     May build a fabric, fair with moral beauty;
     But it would seem that the strong hand of God
     Can, only, ‘rase the devil from the heart.”
      --Duo.

While the congregation was separating, Mr. Grant approached the place
where Elizabeth and her father were seated, leading the youthful female
whom we have mentioned in the preceding chapter, and presented her as
his daughter. Her reception was as cordial and frank as the manners of
the country and the value of good society could render it; the two young
women feeling, instantly, that they were necessary to the comfort of
each other, The Judge, to whom the clergyman’s daughter was also a
stranger, was pleased to find one who, from habits, sex, and years,
could probably contribute largely to the pleasures of his own child,
during her first privations on her removal from the associations of
a city to the solitude of Templeton; while Elizabeth, who had been
forcibly struck with the sweetness and devotion of the youthful
suppliant, removed the slight embarrassment of the timid stranger by the
ease of her own manners. They were at once acquainted; and, during
the ten minutes that the “academy” was clearing, engagements were made
between the young people, not only for the succeeding day, but they
would probably have embraced in their arrangements half of the winter,
had not the divine interrupted them by saying:

“Gently, gently, my dear Miss Temple, or you will make my girl too
dissipated. You forget that she is my housekeeper, and that my domestic
affairs must remain unattended to, should Louisa accept of half the kind
offers you are so good as to make her.”

“And why should they not be neglected entirely, sir?” interrupted
Elizabeth. “There are but two of you; and certain I am that my
father’s house will not only contain you both, but will open its doors
spontaneously to receive such guests. Society is a good not to be
rejected on account of cold forms, in this wilderness, sir; and I have
often heard my father say, that hospitality is not a virtue in a new
country, the favor being conferred by the guest.”

“The manner in which Judge Temple exercises its rites would confirm this
opinion; but we must not trespass too freely. Doubt not that you will
see us often, my child, particularly during the frequent visits that I
shall be compelled to make to the distant parts of the country. But to
obtain an influence with such a people,” he continued, glancing his
eyes toward the few who were still lingering, curious observers of the
interview, “a clergyman most not awaken envy or distrust by dwelling
under so splendid a roof as that of Judge Temple.”

“You like the roof, then, Mr. Grant,” cried Richard, who had been
directing the extinguishment of the fires and other little necessary
duties, and who approached in time to hear the close of the divine’s
speech. “I am glad to find one man of taste at last. Here’s ‘Duke now,
pretends to call it by every abusive name he can invent; but though
‘Duke is a tolerable judge, he is a very poor carpenter, let me tell
him. Well, sir, well, I think we may say, without boasting, that the
service was as well per formed this evening as you often see; I think,
quite as well as I ever knew it to be done in old Trinity--that is, if
we except the organ. But there is the school-master leads the psalm with
a very good air. I used to lead myself, but latterly I have sung nothing
but bass. There is a good deal of science to be shown in the bass, and
it affords a fine opportunity to show off a full, deep voice. Benjamin,
too, sings a good bass, though he is often out in the words. Did you
ever hear Benjamin sing the ‘Bay of Biscay,’?”

“I believe he gave us part of it this evening,” said Marmaduke,
laughing. “There was, now and then, a fearful quaver in his voice,
and it seems that Mr. Penguillian is like most others who do one thing
particularly well; he knows nothing else. He has, certainly, a wonderful
partiality to one tune, and he has a prodigious self-confidence in that
one, for he delivers himself like a northwester sweeping across the
lake. But come, gentlemen, our way is clear, and the sleigh waits.
Good-evening, Mr. Grant. Good-night, young lady--remember you dine
beneath the Corinthian roof, to-morrow, with Elizabeth.”

The parties separated, Richard holding a close dissertation with Mr. Le
Quoi, as they descended the stairs, on the subject of psalmody, which
he closed by a violent eulogium on the air of the “Bay of Biscay, O,” as
particularly connected with his friend Benjamin’s execution.

During the preceding dialogue, Mohegan retained his seat, with his head
shrouded in his blanket, as seemingly inattentive to surrounding objects
as the departing congregation was itself to the presence of the aged
chief, Natty, also, continued on the log where he had first placed
himself, with his head resting on one of his hands, while the other held
the rifle, which was thrown carelessly across his lap. His countenance
expressed uneasiness, and the occasional unquiet glances that he had
thrown around him during the service plainly indicated some unusual
causes for unhappiness. His continuing seated was, how ever, out of
respect to the Indian chief to whom he paid the utmost deference on all
occasions, although it was mingled with the rough manner of a hunter.

The young companion of these two ancient inhabitants of the forest
remained also standing before the extinguished brands, probably from an
unwillingness to depart without his comrades. The room was now deserted
by all but this group, the divine, and his daughter. As the party from
the mansion-house disappeared, John arose, and, dropping the blanket
from his head, he shook back the mass of black hair from his face, and,
approaching Mr. Grant, he extended his hand, and said solemnly:

“Father, I thank you. The words that have been said, since the rising
moon, have gone upward, and the Great Spirit is glad. What you have told
your children, they will remember, and be good.” He paused a moment, and
then, elevating himself with the grandeur of an Indian chief, he added:
“If Chingachgook lives to travel toward the setting sun, after his
tribe, and the Great Spirit carries him over the lakes and mountains
with the breath of his body, he will tell his people the good talk he
has heard; and they will believe him; for who can say that Mohegan has
ever lied?”

“Let him place his dependence on the goodness of Divine mercy,” said Mr.
Grant, to whom the proud consciousness of the Indian sounded a little
heterodox, “and it never will desert him. When the heart is filled with
love to God, there is no room for sin. But, young man, to you I owe not
only an obligation, in common with those you saved this evening on
the mountain, but my thanks for your respectable and pious manner in
assisting in the service at a most embarrassing moment. I should
be happy to see you sometimes at my dwelling, when, perhaps, my
conversation may strengthen you in the path which you appear to have
chosen. It is so unusual to find one of your age and appearance, in
these woods, at all acquainted with our holy liturgy, that it lessens
at once the distance between us, and I feel that we are no longer
strangers. You seem quite at home in the service; I did not perceive
that you had even a book, although good Mr. Jones, had laid several in
different parts of the room.”

“It would be strange if I were ignorant of the service of our church,
sir,” returned the youth modestly; “for I was baptized in its communion
and I have never yet attended public worship elsewhere. For me to use
the forms of any other denomination would be as singular as our own have
proved to the people here this evening.”

“You give me great pleasure, my dear sir,” cried the divine, seizing the
other by the hand, and shaking it cordially. “You will go home with me
now--indeed you must--my child has yet to thank you for saving my life.
I will-listen to no apologies. This worthy Indian, and your friend,
there, will accompany us. Bless me! to think that’ he has arrived at
manhood in this country, without entering a dissenting * meeting-house!”

  * The divines of the Protestant Episcopal Church of the United States
    commonly call other denominations Dissenters, though there never was
    an established church in their own country!

“No, no,” interrupted the Leather-Stocking, “I must away to the wigwam;
there’s work there that mustn’t be forgotten for all your churchings and
merry-makings. Let the lad go with you in welcome; he is used to keeping
company with ministers, and talking of such matters; so is old John, who
was christianized by the Moravians abouts the time of the old war. But I
am a plain unlarned man, that has sarved both the king and his country,
in his day, agin’ the French and savages, but never so much as looked
into a book, or larnt a letter of scholarship, in my born days. I’ve
never seen the use of much in-door work, though I have lived to be
partly bald, and in my time have killed two hundred beaver in a season,
and that without counting thc other game. If you mistrust what I am
telling you, you can ask Chingachgook there, for I did it in the heart
of the Delaware country, and the old man is knowing to the truth of
every word I say.”

“I doubt not, my friend, that you have been both a valiant soldier and
skilful hunter in your day,” said the divine; “but more is wanting to
prepare you for that end which approaches. You may have heard the maxim,
that ‘young men may die, but that old men must’.”

“I’m sure I never was so great a fool as to expect to live forever,”
 said Natty, giving one of his silent laughs; “no man need do that who
trails the savages through the woods, as I have done, and lives, for the
hot months, on the lake streams. I’ve a strong constitution, I must say
that for myself, as is plain to be seen; for I’ve drunk the Onondaga
water a hundred times, while I’ve been watching the deer-licks, when the
fever-an’-agy seeds was to be seen in it as plain and as plenty as you
can see the rattle snakes on old Crumhorn. But then I never expected to
hold out forever; though there’s them living who have seen the German
flats a wilderness; ay! and them that’s larned, and acquainted with
religion, too; though you might look a week, now, and not find even the
stump of a pine on them; and that’s a wood that lasts in the ground the
better part of a hundred years after the tree is dead.”

“This is but time, my good friend,” returned Mr. Grant, who began to
take an interest in the welfare of his new acquaintance, “but I would
have you prepare for eternity. It is incumbent on you to attend places
of public worship, as I am pleased to see that you have done this
evening. Would it not be heedless in you to start on a day’s toil of
hard hunting, and leave your ramrod and flint behind?”

“It must be a young hand in the woods,” interrupted Natty, with another
laugh, “that didn’t know how to dress a rod out of an ash sapling or
find a fire-stone in the mountains. No, no, I never expected to live
forever; but I see, times be altering in these mountains from what they
was thirty years ago, or, for that matter, ten years. But might makes
right, and the law is stronger than an old man, whether he is one that
has much laming, or only like me, that is better now at standing at the
passes than in following the hounds, as I once used to could. Heigh-ho!
I never know’d preaching come into a settlement but it made game scarce,
and raised the price of gunpowder; and that’s a thing that’s not as
easily made as a ramrod or an Indian flint.”

The divine, perceiving that he had given his opponent an argument by his
own unfortunate selection of a comparison, very prudently relinquished
the controversy; although he was fully determined to resume it at a
more happy moment, Repeating his request to the young hunter with great
earnestness, the youth and Indian consented to ac company him and his
daughter to the dwelling that the care of Mr. Jones had provided for
their temporary residence. Leather-Stocking persevered in his intention
of returning to the hut, and at the door of the building they separated.

After following the course of one of the streets of the village a short
distance. Mr. Grant, who led the way, turned into a field, through a
pair of open bars, and entered a footpath, of but sufficient width to
admit one person to walk in at a time. The moon had gained a height that
enabled her to throw her rays perpendicularly on the valley; and the
distinct shadows of the party flitted along on the banks of the silver
snow, like the presence of aerial figures, gliding to their appointed
place of meeting. The night still continued intensely cold, although not
a breath of wind was felt. The path was beaten so hard that the gentle
female, who made one of the party, moved with ease along its windings;
though the frost emitted a low creaking at the impression of even her
light footsteps.

The clergyman in his dark dress of broadcloth, with his mild, benevolent
countenance occasionally turned toward his companions, expressing that
look of subdued care which was its characteristic, presented the first
object in this singular group. Next to him moved the Indian, his hair
falling about his face, his head uncovered, and the rest of his form
concealed beneath his blanket. As his swarthy visage, with its muscles
fixed in rigid composure, was seen under the light of the moon, which
struck his face obliquely, he seemed a picture of resigned old age, on
whom the storms of winter had beaten in vain for the greater part of a
century; but when, in turning his head, the rays fell directly on his
dark, fiery eyes, they told a tale of passions unrestrained, and of
thoughts free as air. The slight person of Miss Grant, which followed
next, and which was but too thinly clad for the severity of the season,
formed a marked contrast to thc wild attire and uneasy glances of the
Delaware chief; and more than once during their walk, the young hunter,
himself no insignificant figure in the group, was led to consider the
difference in the human form, as the face of Mohegan and the gentle
countenance of Miss Grant, with eyes that rivalled the soft hue of the
sky, met his view at the instant that each turned to throw a glance at
the splendid orb which lighted their path. Their way, which led through
fields that lay at some distance in the rear of the houses, was cheered
by a conversation that flagged or became animated with the subject. The
first to speak was the divine.

“Really,” he said, “it is so singular a circumstance to meet with one of
your age, that has not been induced by idle curiosity to visit any other
church than the one in which he has been educated, that I feel a strong
curiosity to know the history of a life so fortunately regulated. Your
education must have been excellent; as indeed is evident from your
manners and language. Of which of the States are you a native, Mr.
Edwards? for such, I believe, was the name that you gave Judge Temple.”

“Of this.”

“Of this! I was at a loss to conjecture, from your dialect, which does
not partake, particularly, of the peculiarities of any country with
which I am acquainted. You have, then, resided much in the cities, for
no other part of this country is so fortunate as to possess the constant
enjoyment of our excellent liturgy.”

The young hunter smiled, as he listened to the divine while he so
clearly betrayed from what part of the country he had come himself; but,
for reasons probably connected with his present situation, he made no
answer.

“I am delighted to meet with you, my young friend, for I think an
ingenuous mind, such as I doubt not yours must be, will exhibit all the
advantages of a settled doctrine and devout liturgy. You perceive how I
was compelled to bend to the humors of my hearers this evening. Good
Mr. Jones wished me to read the communion, and, in fact, all the morning
service; but, happily, the canons do not require this of an evening.
It would have wearied a new congregation; but to-morrow I purpose
administering the sacrament, Do you commune, my young friend?”

“I believe not, sir,” returned the youth, with a little embarrassment,
that was not at all diminished by Miss Grant’s pausing involuntarily,
and turning her eyes on him in surprise; “I fear that I am not
qualified; I have never yet approached the altar; neither would I wish
to do it while I find so much of the world clinging to my heart.”

“Each must judge for himself,” said Mr. Grant; “though I should think
that a youth who had never been blown about by the wind of false
doctrines, and who has enjoyed the advantages of our liturgy for so
many years in its purity, might safely come. Yet, sir, it is a solemn
festival, which none should celebrate until there is reason to hope it
is not mockery. I observed this evening, in your manner to Judge Temple,
a resentment that bordered on one of the worst of human passions, We
will cross this brook on the ice; it must bear us all, I think, in
safety. Be careful not to slip, my child.” While speaking, he descended
a little bank by the path, and crossed one of the small streams that
poured their waters into the lake; and, turning to see his daughter
pass, observed that the youth had advanced, and was kindly directing her
footsteps. When all were safely over, he moved up the opposite bank,
and continued his discourse. “It was wrong, my dear sir, very wrong, to
suffer such feelings to rise, under any circumstances, and especially in
the present, where the evil was not intended.”

“There is good in the talk of my father,” said Mohegan, stopping short,
and causing those who Were behind him to pause also; “it is the talk
of Miquon. The white man may do as his fathers have told him; but the
‘Young Eagle’ has the blood of a Delaware chief in his veins; it is
red, and the stain it makes can only be washed out with the blood of a
Mingo.”

Mr. Grant was surprised by the interruption of the Indian, and,
stopping, faced the speaker. His mild features were confronted to the
fierce and determined looks of the chief, and expressed the horror he
felt at hearing such sentiments from one who professed the religion of
his Saviour. Raising his hands to a level with his head, he exclaimed:

“John, John! is this the religion that you have learned from the
Moravians? But no--I will not be so uncharitable as to suppose it. They
are a pious, a gentle, and a mild people, and could never tolerate these
passions. Listen to the language of the Redeemer: ‘But I say unto you,
love your enemies; bless them that curse you; do good to them that hate
you; pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you.’ This
is the command of God, John, and, without striving to cultivate such
feelings, no man can see Him.”

The Indian heard the divine with attention; the unusual fire of his
eye gradually softened, and his muscles relaxed into their ordinary
composure; but, slightly shaking his head, he motioned with dignity
for Mr. Grant to resume his walk, and followed himself in silence, The
agitation of the divine caused him to move with unusual rapidity along
the deep path, and the Indian, without any apparent exertion, kept an
equal pace; but the young hunter observed the female to linger in her
steps, until a trifling distance intervened between the two former
and the latter. Struck by the circumstance, and not perceiving any
new impediment to retard her footstep, the youth made a tender of his
assistance.

“You are fatigued, Miss Grant,” he said; “the snow yields to the foot,
and you are unequal to the strides of us men. Step on the crust, I
entreat you, and take the help of my arm, Yonder light is, I believe,
the house of your father; but it seems yet at some distance.”

“I am quite equal to the walk,” returned a low, tremulous voice; “but I
am startled by the manner of that Indian, Oh! his eye was horrid, as he
turned to the moon, in speaking to my father. But I forgot, sir; he is
your friend, and by his language may be your relative; and yet of you I
do not feel afraid.”

The young man stepped on the bank of snow, which firmly sustained his
weight, and by a gentle effort induced his companion to follow. Drawing
her arm through his own, he lifted his cap from his head, allowing the
dark locks to flow in rich curls over his open brow, and walked by her
side with an air of conscious pride, as if inviting an examination of
his utmost thoughts. Louisa took but a furtive glance at his person, and
moved quietly along, at a rate that was greatly quickened by the aid of
his arm.

“You are but little acquainted with this peculiar people, Miss Grant,”
 he said, “or you would know that revenge is a virtue with an Indian.
They are taught, from infancy upward, to believe it a duty never to
allow an injury to pass unrevenged; and nothing but the stronger claims
of hospitality can guard one against their resentments where they have
power.”

“Surely, sir,” said Miss Grant, involuntarily withdrawing her arm from
his, “you have not been educated with such unholy sentiments?”

“It might be a sufficient answer to your excellent father to say that I
was educated in the church,” he returned; “but to you I will add that
I have been taught deep and practical lessons of forgiveness. I believe
that, on this subject, I have but little cause to reproach myself; it
shall be my endeavor that there yet be less.”

While speaking, he stopped, and stood with his arm again proffered to
her assistance. As he ended, she quietly accepted his offer, and they
resumed their walk.

Mr. Grant and Mohegan had reached the door of the former’s residence,
and stood waiting near its threshold for the arrival of their young
companions. The former was earnestly occupied in endeavoring to correct,
by his precepts, the evil propensities that he had discovered in the
Indian during their conversation; to which the latter listened in
Profound but respectful attention. On the arrival of the young hunter
and the lady, they entered the building. The house stood at some
distance from the village, in the centre of a field, surrounded by
stumps that were peering above the snow, bearing caps of pure white,
nearly two feet in thickness. Not a tree nor a shrub was nigh it; but
the house, externally, exhibited that cheer less, unfurnished aspect
which is so common to the hastily erected dwellings of a new country.
The uninviting character of its outside was, however, happily relieved
by the exquisite neatness and comfortable warmth within.

They entered an apartment that was fitted as a parlor, though the large
fireplace, with its culinary arrangements, betrayed the domestic uses
to which it was occasionally applied. The bright blaze from the hearth
rendered the light that proceeded from the candle Louisa produced
unnecessary; for the scanty furniture of the room was easily seen and
examined by the former. The floor was covered in the centre by a carpet
made of rags, a species of manufacture that was then, and yet continues
to be, much in use in the interior; while its edges, that were exposed
to view, were of unspotted cleanliness. There was a trifling air
of better life in a tea-table and work-stand, as well as in an
old-fashioned mahogany bookcase; but the chairs, the dining-table,
and the rest of the furniture were of the plainest and cheapest
construction, Against the walls were hung a few specimens of needle-work
and drawing, the former executed with great neatness, though of somewhat
equivocal merit in their designs, while the latter were strikingly
deficient in both.

One of the former represented a tomb, with a youthful female weeping
over it, exhibiting a church with arched windows in the background. On
the tomb were the names, with the dates of the births and deaths, of
several individuals, all of whom bore the name of Grant. An extremely
cursory glance at this record was sufficient to discover to the young
hunter the domestic state of the divine. He there read that he was
a widower; and that the innocent and timid maiden, who had been his
companion, was the only survivor of six children. The knowledge of the
dependence which each of these meek Christians had on the other
for happiness threw an additional charm around the gentle but kind
attentions which the daughter paid to the father.

These observations occurred while the party were seating themselves
before the cheerful fire, during which time there was a suspension of
discourse. But, when each was comfortably arranged, and Louisa, after
laying aside a thin coat of faded silk, and a gypsy hat, that was more
becoming to her modest, ingenuous countenance than appropriate to the
season, had taken a chair between her father and the youth, the former
resumed the conversation.

“I trust, my young friend,” he said, “that the education you have
received has eradicated most of those revengeful principles which you
may have inherited by descent, for I understand from the expressions
of John that you have some of the blood of the Delaware tribe. Do not
mistake me, I beg, for it is not color nor lineage that constitutes
merit; and I know not that he who claims affinity to the proper owners
of this soil has not the best right to tread these hills with the
lightest conscience.”

Mohegan turned solemnly to the speaker, and, with the peculiarly
significant gestures of an Indian, he spoke:

“Father, you are not yet past the summer of life; your limbs are young.
Go to the highest hill, and look around you. All that you see, from the
rising to the setting sun, from the head-waters of the great spring, to
where the ‘crooked river’ * is hid by the hills, is his. He has Delaware
blood, and his right is strong.

  * The Susquehannah means crooked river; “hannah,” or “hannock,” meant
    river in many of the native dialects.  Thus we find Rappahannock as
    far south as Virginia.

“But the brother of Miquon is just; he will cut the country in two parts,
as the river cuts the lowlands, and will say to the ‘Young Eagle,’
‘Child of the Delawares! take it--keep it; and be a chief in the land of
your fathers.’”

“Never!” exclaimed the young hunter, with a vehemence that destroyed the
rapt attention with which the divine and his daughter were listening to
the Indian. “The wolf of the forest is not more rapacious for his prey
than that man is greedy of gold; and yet his glidings into wealth are
subtle as the movements of a serpent.”

“Forbear, forbear, my son, forbear,” interrupted Mr. Grant. “These angry
passions most be subdued. The accidental injury you have received from
Judge Temple has heightened the sense of your hereditary wrongs. But
remember that the one was unintentional, and that the other is the
effect of political changes, which have, in their course, greatly
lowered the pride of kings, and swept mighty nations from the face of
the earth. Where now are the Philistines, who so often held the children
of Israel in bondage? or that city of Babylon, which rioted in luxury
and vice, and who styled herself the Queen of Nations in the drunkenness
of her pride? Remember the prayer of our holy litany, where we implore
the Divine Power--‘that it may please thee to forgive our enemies,
persecutors, and slanderers, and to turn their hearts. The sin of the
wrongs which have been done to the natives is shared by Judge Temple
only in common with a whole people, and your arm will speedily be
restored to its strength.”

“This arm!” repeated the youth, pacing the floor in violent agitation.
“Think you, sir, that I believe the man a murderer? Oh, no! he is too
wily, too cowardly, for such a crime. But let him and his daughter
riot in their wealth--a day of retribution will come. No, no, no,” he
continued, as he trod the floor more calmly--“it is for Mohegan to
suspect him of an intent to injure me; but the trifle is not worth a
second thought.” He seated himself, and hid his face between his hands,
as they rested on his knees.

“It is the hereditary violence of a native’s passion, my child,” said
Mr. Grant in a low tone to his affrighted daughter, who was clinging in
terror to his arm. “He is mixed with the blood of the Indians, you have
heard; and neither the refinements of education nor the advantages of
our excellent liturgy have been able entirely to eradicate the evil. But
care and time will do much for him yet.”

Although the divine spoke in a low tone, yet what he uttered was
heard by the youth, who raised his head, with a smile of indefinite
expression, and spoke more calmly:

“Be not alarmed, Miss Grant, at either the wildness of my manner or that
of my dress. I have been carried away by passions that I should struggle
to repress. I must attribute it, with your father, to the blood in my
veins, although I would not impeach my lineage willingly; for it is
all that is left me to boast of. Yes! I am proud of my descent from
a Delaware chief, who was a warrior that ennobled human nature. Old
Mohegan was his friend, and will vouch for his virtues.”

Mr. Grant here took up the discourse, and, finding the young man
more calm, and the aged chief attentive, he entered into a full and
theological discussion of the duty of forgiveness. The conversation
lasted for more than an hour, when the visitors arose, and, after
exchanging good wishes with their entertainers, they departed. At the
door they separated, Mohegan taking the direct route to the village,
while the youth moved toward the lake. The divine stood at the entrance
of his dwelling, regarding the figure of the aged chief as it glided,
at an astonishing gait for his years, along the deep path; his black,
straight hair just visible over the bundle formed by his blanket, which
was sometimes blended with the snow, under the silvery light of the
moon. From the rear of the house was a window that overlooked the
lake; and here Louisa was found by her father, when he entered, gazing
intently on some object in the direction of the eastern mountain. He
approached the spot, and saw the figure of the young hunter, at the
distance of half a mile, walking with prodigious steps across the wide
fields of frozen snow that covered the ice, toward the point where
he knew the hut inhabited by the Leather-Stocking was situated on the
margin of the lake, under a rock that was crowned by pines and hemlocks.
At the next instant, the wild looking form entered the shadow cast from
the over-hanging trees, and was lost to view.

“It is marvellous how long the propensities of the savage continue in
that remarkable race,” said the good divine; “but if he perseveres as
he has commenced, his triumph shall yet be complete. Put me in mind,
Louisa, to lend him the homily ‘against peril of idolatry,’ at his next
visit.”

“Surety, father, you do not think him in danger of relapsing into the
worship of his ancestors?”

“No, my child,” returned the clergyman, laying his hand affectionately
on her flaxen locks, and smiling; “his white blood would prevent it; but
there is such a thing as the idolatry of our passions.”



CHAPTER XIII.


     “And I’ll drink out of the quart pot--
     Here’s a health to the barley mow.
     “--Drinking Song.

On one of the corners, where the two principal streets of Templeton
intersected each other, stood, as we have already mentioned, the inn
called the “Bold Dragoon”. In the original plan it was ordained that
the village should stretch along the little stream that rushed down
the valley; and the street which led from the lake to the academy
was intended to be its western boundary. But convenience frequently
frustrates the best-regulated plans. The house of Mr., or as, in
consequence of commanding the militia of that vicinity, he was called,
Captain Hollister, had, at an early day, been erected directly facing
the main street, and ostensibly interposed a barrier to its further
progress. Horsemen, and subsequently teamsters, however, availed
themselves of an opening, at the end of the building, to shorten their
passage westward, until in time the regular highway was laid out along
this course, and houses were gradually built on either side, so as
effectually to prevent any subsequent correction of the evil.

Two material consequences followed this change in the regular plans of
Marmaduke. The main street, after running about half its length, was
suddenly reduced for precisely that difference in its width; and “Bold
Dragoon” became, next to the mansion-house, by far the most conspicuous
edifice in the place.

This conspicuousness, aided by the characters of the host and hostess,
gave the tavern an advantage over all its future competitors that no
circumstances could conquer. An effort was, however, made to do so;
and at the corner diagonally opposite, stood a new building that was in
tended, by its occupants, to look down all opposition. It was a house of
wood, ornamented in the prevailing style of architecture, and about
the roof and balustrades was one of the three imitators of the
mansion-house. The upper windows were filled with rough boards secured
by nails, to keep out the cold air--for the edifice was far from
finished, although glass was to be seen in the lower apartments, and
the light of the powerful fires within de noted that it was already
inhabited. The exterior was painted white on the front and on the end
which was exposed to the street; but in the rear, and on the side which
was intended to join the neighboring house, it was coarsely smeared with
Spanish brown. Before the door stood two lofty posts, connected at the
top by a beam, from which was suspended an enormous sign, ornamented
around its edges with certain curious carvings in pine boards, and on
its faces loaded with Masonic emblems. Over these mysterious figures was
written, in large letters, “The Templeton Coffee-house, and Traveller’s
Hotel,” and beneath them, “By Habakkuk Foote and Joshua Knapp.” This
was a fearful rival to the “Bold Dragoon,” as our readers will the more
readily perceive when we add that the same sonorous names were to be
seen over a newly erected store in the village, a hatter’s shop, and the
gates of a tan-yard. But, either because too much was attempted to be
executed well, or that the “Bold Dragoon” had established a reputation
which could not be easily shaken, not only Judge Temple and his friends,
but most of the villagers also, who were not in debt to the powerful
firm we have named, frequented the inn of Captain Hollister on all
occasions where such a house was necessary.

On the present evening the limping veteran and his consort were hardly
housed after their return from the academy, when the sounds of stamping
feet at their threshold announced the approach of visitors, who were
probably assembling with a view to compare opinions on the subject of
the ceremonies they had witnessed.

The public, or as it was called, the “bar-room,” of the “Bold Dragoon,”
 was a spacious apartment, lined on three sides with benches and on the
fourth by fireplaces. Of the latter there were two of such size as
to occupy, with their enormous jambs, the whole of that side of the
apartment where they were placed, excepting room enough for a door
or two, and a little apartment in one corner, which was protected by
miniature palisades, and profusely garnished with bottles and glasses.
In the entrance to this sanctuary Mrs. Hollister was seated, with great
gravity in her air, while her husband occupied himself with stirring the
fires, moving the logs with a large stake burnt to a point at one end.

“There, sargeant, dear,” said the landlady, after she thought the
veteran had got the logs arranged in the most judicious manner, “give
over poking, for it’s no good ye’ll be doing, now that they burn so
convaniently. There’s the glasses on the table there, and the mug
that the doctor was taking his cider and ginger in, before the fire
here--just put them in the bar, will ye? for we’ll be having the jooge,
and the Major, and Mr. Jones down the night, without reckoning Benjamin
Poomp, and the lawyers; so yell be fixing the room tidy; and put both
flip irons in the coals; and tell Jude, the lazy black baste, that if
she’s no be cleaning up the kitchen I’ll turn her out of the house, and
she may live wid the jontlemen that kape the ‘Coffee house,’ good luck
to ‘em. Och! sargeant, sure it’s a great privilege to go to a mateing
where a body can sit asy, without joomping up and down so often, as this
Mr. Grant is doing that same.”

“It’s a privilege at all times, Mrs. Hollister, whether we stand or
be seated; or, as good Mr. Whitefleld used to do after he had made a
wearisome day’s march, get on our knees and pray, like Moses of old,
with a flanker to the right and left to lift his hands to heaven,”
 returned her husband, who composedly performed what she had directed to
be done. “It was a very pretty fight, Betty, that the Israelites had on
that day with the Amalekites, It seams that they fout on a plain, for
Moses is mentioned as having gone on the heights to overlook the battle,
and wrestle in prayer; and if I should judge, with my little larning,
the Israelites depended mainly on their horse, for it was written ‘that
Joshua cut up the enemy with the edge of the sword; from which I infer,
not only that they were horse, but well diseiplyned troops. Indeed, it
says as much as that they were chosen men; quite likely volunteers; for
raw dragoons seldom strike with the edge of their swords, particularly
if the weapon be any way crooked.”

“Pshaw! why do ye bother yourself wid texts, man, about so small a
matter?” interrupted the landlady; “sure, it was the Lord who was with
‘em; for he always sided with the Jews, before they fell away; and it’s
but little matter what kind of men Joshua commanded, so that he was
doing the right bidding. Aven them cursed millaishy, the Lord forgive me
for swearing, that was the death of him, wid their cowardice, would have
carried the day in old times. There’s no rason to be thinking that the
soldiers were used to the drill.”

“I must say, Mrs. Hollister, that I have not often seen raw troops fight
better than the left flank of the militia, at the time you mention.
They rallied handsomely, and that without beat of drum, which is no
easy thing to do under fire, and were very steady till he fell. But the
Scriptures contain no unnecessary words; and I will maintain that
horse, who know how to strike with the edge of the sword, must be well
disoiplyned. Many a good sarmon has been preached about smaller matters
than that one word! If the text was not meant to be particular,
why wasn’t it written with the sword, and not with the edge? Now, a
back-handed stroke, on the edge, takes long practice. Goodness! what an
argument would Mr. Whitefield make of that word edge! As to the captain,
if he had only called up the guard of dragoons when he rallied the
foot, they would have shown the inimy what the edge of a sword was; for,
although there was no commissioned officer with them, yet I think I must
say,” the veteran continued, stiffening his cravat about his throat, and
raising himself up with the air of a drill-sergeant, “they were led by
a man who knowed how to bring them on, in spite of the ravine.”

“Is it lade on ye would,” cried the landlady, “when ye know yourself,
Mr. Hollister, that the baste he rode was but little able to joomp from
one rock to another, and the animal was as spry as a squirrel? Och! but
it’s useless to talk, for he’s gone this many a year. I would that he
had lived to see the true light; but there’s mercy for a brave sowl,
that died in the saddle, fighting for the liberty. It is a poor
tombstone they have given him, anyway, and many a good one that died
like himself; but the sign is very like, and I will be kapeing it up,
while the blacksmith can make a hook for it to swing on, for all the
‘coffee-houses’ betwane this and Albany.”

There is no saying where this desultory conversation would have led the
worthy couple, had not the men, who were stamping the snow off their
feet on the little plat form before the door, suddenly ceased their
occupation, and entered the bar-room.

For ten or fifteen minutes the different individuals, who intended
either to bestow or receive edification before the fires of the “Bold
Dragoon” on that evening, were collecting, until the benches were
nearly filled with men of different occupations. Dr. Todd and a
slovenly-looking, shabby-genteel young man, who took tobacco profusely,
wore a coat of imported cloth cut with something like a fashionable air,
frequently exhibited a large French silver watch, with a chain of woven
hair and a silver key, and who, altogether, seemed as much above the
artisans around him as he was himself inferior to the real gentle man,
occupied a high-back wooden settee, in the most comfortable corner in
the apartment.

Sundry brown mugs, containing cider or beer, were placed between
the heavy andirons, and little groups were found among the guests as
subjects arose or the liquor was passed from one to the other. No man
was seen to drink by himself, nor in any instance was more than one
vessel considered necessary for the same beverage; but the glass or the
mug was passed from hand to hand until a chasm in the line or a regard
to the rights of ownership would regularly restore the dregs of the
potation to him who de frayed the cost.

Toasts were uniformly drunk; and occasionally some one who conceived
himself peculiarly endowed by Nature to shine in the way of wit would
attempt some such sentiment as “hoping that he” who treated “might make
a better man than his father;” or “live till all his friends wished him
dead;” while the more humble pot-companion contented himself by saying,
with a most composing gravity in his air, “Come, here’s luck,” or by
expressing some other equally comprehensive desire. In every instance
the veteran landlord was requested to imitate the custom of the
cupbearers to kings, and taste the liquor he presented, by the
invitation of “After you is manners,” with which request he ordinarily
complied by wetting his lips, first expressing the wish of “Here’s
hoping,” leaving it to the imagination of the hearers to fill the vacuum
by whatever good each thought most desirable. During these movements the
landlady was busily occupied with mixing the various compounds required
by her customers, with her own hands, and occasionally exchanging
greetings and inquiries concerning the conditions of their respective
families, with such of the villagers as approached the bar.

At length the common thirst being in some measure assuaged, conversation
of a more general nature became the order of the hour. The physician
and his companion, who was one of the two lawyers of the village,
being considered the best qualified to maintain a public discourse with
credit, were the principal speakers, though a remark was hazarded, now
and then, by Mr. Doolittle, who was thought to be their inferior only in
the enviable point of education. A general silence was produced on all
but the two speakers, by the following observation from the practitioner
of the law:

“So, Dr. Todd, I understand that you have been per forming an important
operation this evening by cutting a charge of buckshot from the shoulder
of the son of Leather-Stocking?”

“Yes, sir,” returned other, elevating his little head with an air of
importance. “I had a small job up at the Judge’s in that way; it was,
however, but a trifle to what it might have been, had it gone through
the body. The shoulder is not a very vital part; and I think the young
man will soon be well. But I did not know that the patient was a son of
Leather-Stocking; it is news to me to hear that Natty had a wife.”

“It is by no means a necessary consequence,” returned the other, winking,
with a shrewd look around the bar room; “there is such a thing, I
suppose you know, in law as a filius nullius.”

“Spake it out, man,” exclaimed the landlady; “spake it out in king’s
English; what for should ye be talking Indian in a room full of
Christian folks, though it is about a poor hunter, who is but little
better in his ways than the wild savages themselves? Och! it’s to be
hoped that the missionaries will, in his own time, make a conversion
of the poor devils; and then it will matter little of what color is the
skin, or wedder there be wool or hair on the head.”

“Oh! it is Latin, not Indian, Miss Hollister!” returned the lawyer,
repeating his winks and shrewd looks; “and Dr. Todd understands Latin,
or how would he read the labels on his gailipots and drawers? No, no,
Miss Hollis ter, the doctor understands me; don’t you, doctor?”

“Hem--why, I guess I am not far out of the way,” returned Elnathan,
endeavoring to imitate the expression of the other’s countenance, by
looking jocular. “Latin is a queer language, gentlemen; now I rather
guess there is no one in the room, except Squire Lippet, who can believe
that ‘Far. Av.’ means oatmeal, in English.”

The lawyer in his turn was a good deal embarrassed by this display of
learning; for, although he actually had taken his first degree at one of
the eastern universities, he was somewhat puzzled with the terms used
by his companion. It was dangerous, however, to appear to be out done
in learning in a public bar-room, and before so many of his clients; he
therefore put the best face on the matter, and laughed knowingly as if
there were a good joke concealed under it, that was understood only
by the physician and himself. All this was attentively observed by the
listeners, who exchanged looks of approbation; and the expressions of
“tonguey mati,” and “I guess Squire Lippet knows if anybody does,” were
heard in different parts of the room, as vouchers for the admiration
of his auditors. Thus encouraged, the lawyer rose from his chair, and
turning his back to the fire, and facing the company, he continued:

“The son of Natty, or the son of nobody, I hope the young man is not
going to let the matter drop. This is a country of law; and I should
like to see it fairly tried, whether a man who owns, or says he owns, a
hundred thousand acres of land, has any more right to shoot a body than
another. What do you think of it, Dr. Todd?”

“Oh, sir, I am of opinion that the gentleman will soon be well, as I said
before; the wound isn’t in a vital part; and as the ball was extracted
so soon, and the shoulder was what I call well attended to, I do not
think there is as much danger as there might have been.”

“I say, Squire Doolittle,” continued the attorney, raising his voice,
“you are a magistrate, and know what is law and what is not law. I ask
you, sir, if shooting a man is a thing that is to be settled so very
easily? Suppose, sir, that the young man had a wife and family; and
suppose that he was a mechanic like yourself, sir; and sup pose that his
family depended on him for bread; and suppose that the ball, instead of
merely going through the flesh, had broken the shoulder-blade, and
crippled him forever; I ask you all, gentlemen, supposing this to be the
case, whether a jury wouldn’t give what I call handsome damages?”

As the close of this supposititious case was addressed to the company
generally, Hiram did not at first consider himself called on for a
reply; but finding the eyes of the listeners bent on him in expectation,
he remembered his character for judicial discrimination, and spoke,
observing a due degree of deliberation and dignity.

“Why, if a man should shoot another,” he said, “and if he should do it
on purpose and if the law took notice on’t, and if a jury should find
him guilty, it would be likely to turn out a state-prison matter.”

“It would so, sir,” returned the attorney. “The law, gentlemen, is no
respecter of persons in a free country. It is one of the great blessings
that has been handed down to us from our ancestors, that all men are
equal in the eye of the laws, as they are by nater. Though some may get
property, no one knows how, yet they are not privileged to transgress
the laws any more than the poorest citizen in the State. This is my
notion, gentlemen: and I think that it a man had a mind to bring this
matter up, something might be made out of it that would help pay for the
salve--ha! doctor!”

“Why, sir,” returned the physician, who appeared a little uneasy at the
turn the conversation was taking, “I have the promise of Judge Temple
before men--not but what I would take his word as soon as his note of
hand--but it was before men. Let me see--there was Mounshier Ler Quow,
and Squire Jones, and Major Hartmann, and Miss Pettibone, and one or two
of the blacks by, when he said that his pocket would amply reward me for
what I did.”

“Was the promise made before or after the service was performed?” asked
the attorney.

“It might have been both,” returned the discreet physician; “though I’m
certain he said so before I undertook the dressing.”

“But it seems that he said his pocket should reward you, doctor,”
 observed Hiram. “Now I don’t know that the law will hold a man to such
a promise; he might give you his pocket with sixpence in’t, and tell you
to take your pay out on’t.”

“That would not be a reward in the eye of the law,” interrupted the
attorney--“not what is called a ‘quid pro quo;’ nor is the pocket to be
considered as an agent, but as part of a man’s own person, that is,
in this particular. I am of opinion that an action would lie on that
promise, and I will undertake to bear him out, free of costs, if he
don’t recover.”

To this proposition the physician made no reply; but he was observed to
cast his eyes around him, as if to enumerate the witnesses, in order
to substantiate this promise also, at a future day, should it prove
necessary. A subject so momentous as that of suing Judge Temple was not
very palatable to the present company in so public a place; and a short
silence ensued, that was only interrupted by the opening of the door,
and the entrance of Natty himself.

The old hunter carried in his hand his never-failing companion, the
rifle; and although all of the company were uncovered excepting the
lawyer, who wore his hat on one side, with a certain dam’me air, Natty
moved to the front of one of the fires without in the least altering
any part of his dress or appearance. Several questions were addressed
to him, on the subject of the game he had killed, which he answered
readily, and with some little interest; and the landlord, between whom
and Natty there existed much cordiality, on account of their both having
been soldiers in youth, offered him a glass of a liquid which, if
we might judge from its reception, was no unwelcome guest. When the
forester had got his potation also, he quietly took his seat on the end
of one of the logs that lay nigh the fires, and the slight interruption
produced by his entrance seemed to be forgotten.

“The testimony of the blacks could not be taken, sir,” continued the
lawyer, “for they are all the property of Mr. Jones, who owns their
time. But there is a way by which Judge Temple, or any other man, might
be made to pay for shooting another, and for the cure in the bargain.
There is a way, I say, and that without going into the ‘court of
errors,’ too.”

“And a mighty big error ye would make of it, Mister Todd,” cried the
landlady, “should ye be putting the mat ter into the law at all, with
Joodge Temple, who has a purse as long as one of them pines on the hill,
and who is an asy man to dale wid, if yees but mind the humor of him.
He’s a good man is Joodge Temple, and a kind one, and one who will be no
the likelier to do the pratty thing, becase ye would wish to tarrify
him wid the law. I know of but one objaction to the same, which is
an over-careless ness about his sowl. It’s neither a Methodie, nor a
Papish, nor Parsbetyrian, that he is, but just nothing at all; and it’s
hard to think that he, ‘who will not fight the good fight, under the
banners of a rig’lar church, in this world, will be mustered among the
chosen in heaven,’ as my husband, the captain there, as ye call him,
says--though there is but one captain that I know, who desarves the
name. I hopes, Lather-Stocking, ye’ll no be foolish, and putting the boy
up to try the law in the matter; for ‘twill be an evil day to ye both,
when ye first turn the skin of so paceable an animal as a sheep into a
bone of contention, The lad is wilcome to his drink for nothing, until
his shoulther will bear the rifle agin.”

“Well, that’s gin’rous,” was heard from several mouths at once, for this
was a company in which a liberal offer was not thrown away; while the
hunter, instead ‘of expressing any of that indignation which he might
be sup posed to feel, at hearing the hurt of his young companion
alluded to, opened his mouth, with the silent laugh for which he was so
remarkable; and after he had indulged his humor, made this reply:

“I knowed the Judge would do nothing with his smooth bore when he got
out of his sleigh. I never saw but one smooth-bore that would carry at
all, and that was a French ducking-piece, upon the big lakes; it had a
barrel half as long agin as my rifle, and would throw fine shot into a
goose at one hundred yards; but it made dreadful work with the game,
and you wanted a boat to carry it about in. When I went with Sir William
agin’ the French, at Fort Niagara, all the rangers used the rifle; and
a dreadful weapon it is, in the hands of one who knows how to charge it,
and keep a steady aim. The captain knows, for he says he was a soldier
in Shirley’s; and, though they were nothing but baggonet-men, he must
know how we cut up the French and Iroquois in the skrimmages in that
war. Chingachgook, which means ‘Big Sarpent’ in English, old John
Mohegan, who lives up at the hut with me, was a great warrior then, and
was out with us; he can tell all about it, too; though he was overhand
for the tomahawk, never firing more than once or twice, before he was
running in for the scalps. Ah! times is dreadfully altered since then.
Why, doctor, there was nothing but a foot path, or at the most a track
for pack-horses, along the Mohawk, from the Jarman Flats up to the
forts. Now, they say, they talk of running one of them wide roads with
gates on it along the river; first making a road, and then fencing
it up! I hunted one season back of the Kaatskills, nigh-hand to the
settlements, and the dogs often lost the scent, when they came to them
highways, there was so much travel on them; though I can’t say that the
brutes was of a very good breed. Old Hector will wind a deer, in the
fall of the year, across the broadest place in the Otsego, and that is
a mile and a half, for I paced it my self on the ice, when the tract was
first surveyed, under the Indian grant.”

“It sames to me, Natty, but a sorry compliment to call your comrad after
the evil one,” said the landlady; “and it’s no much like a snake that
old John is looking now, Nimrod would be a more becoming name for the
lad, and a more Christian, too, seeing that it conies from the Bible.
The sargeant read me the chapter about him, the night before my
christening, and a mighty asement it was to listen to anything from the
book.”

“Old John and Chingachgook were very different men to look on,” returned
the hunter, shaking his head at his melancholy recollections. “In the
‘fifty-eighth war’ he was in the middle of manhood, and taller than
now by three inches. If you had seen him, as I did, the morning we beat
Dieskau, from behind our log walls, you would have called him as comely
a redskin as ye ever set eyes on. He was naked all to his breech-cloth
and leggins; and you never seed a creatur’ so handsomely painted. One
side of his face was red and the other black. His head was shaved
clean, all to a few hairs on the crown, where he wore a tuft of eagle’s
feathers, as bright as if they had come from a peacock’s tail. He had
colored his sides so that they looked like anatomy, ribs and all, for
Chingachgook had a great taste in such things, so that, what with his
bold, fiery countenance, his knife, and his tomahawk, I have never seen
a fiercer warrior on the ground. He played his part, too, like a man,
for I saw him next day with thirteen scalps on his pole. And I will say
this for the ‘Big Snake,’ that he always dealt fair, and never scalped
any that he didn’t kill with his own hands.”

“Well, well!” cried the landlady, “fighting is fighting anyway, and
there is different fashions in the thing; though I can’t say that I
relish mangling a body after the breath is out of it; neither do I think
it can be uphild by doctrine. I hope, sargeant, ye niver was helping
in sich evil worrek.”

“It was my duty to keep my ranks, and to stand or fall by the baggonet
or lead,” returned the veteran. “I was then in the fort, and seldom
leaving my place, saw but little of the savages, who kept on the flanks
or in front, skrimmaging. I remember, howsomever, to have heard mention
made of the ‘Great Snake,’ as he was called, for he was a chief of
renown; but little did I ever expect to see him enlisted in the cause of
Christianity, and civilized like old John.”

“Oh! he was Christianized by the Moravians, who were always
over-intimate with the Delawares,” said Leather-Stocking. “It’s my
opinion that, had they been left to themselves, there would be no such
doings now about the head-waters of the two rivers, and that these hills
mought have been kept as good hunting-ground by their right owner,
who is not too old to carry a rifle, and whose sight is as true as a
fish-hawk hovering--”

He was interrupted by more stamping at the door, and presently the party
from the mansion-house entered, followed by the Indian himself.



CHAPTER XIV.

     “There’s quart-pot, pint-pot.
     Mit-pint, Gill-pot, half-gill, nipperkin.
     And the brown bowl--
     Here’s a health to the barley mow,
     My brave boys,
     Here’s a health to the barley mow.”
      --Drinking Song.

Some little commotion was produced by the appearance of the new guests,
during which the lawyer slunk from the room. Most of the men approached
Marmaduke, and shook his offered hand, hoping “that the Judge was well;”
 while Major Hartmann having laid aside his hat and wig, and substituted
for the latter a warm, peaked woollen nightcap, took his seat very
quietly on one end of the settee, which was relinquished by its former
occupant. His tobacco-box was next produced, and a clean pipe was handed
him by the landlord. When he had succeeded in raising a smoke, the Major
gave a long whiff, and, turning his head toward the bar, he said:

“Petty, pring in ter toddy.”

In the mean time the Judge had exchanged his salutations with most of
the company, and taken a place by the side of the Major, and Richard had
bustled himself into the most comfortable seat in the room. Mr. Le Quoi
was the last seated, nor did he venture to place his chair finally,
until by frequent removals he had ascertained that he could not possibly
intercept a ray of heat front any individual present. Mohegan found a
place on an end of one of the benches, and somewhat approximated to the
bar.

When these movements had subsided, the Judge remarked pleasantly: “Well,
Betty, I find you retain your popularity through all weathers, against
all rivals, and among all religions. How liked you the sermon?”

“Is it the sarmon?” exclaimed the landlady. “I can’t say but it was
rasonable; but the prayers is mighty unasy. It’s no small a matter for a
body in their fifty-nint’ year to be moving so much in church. Mr. Grant
sames a godly man, any way, and his garrel a hommble on; and a devout.
Here, John, is a mug of cider, laced with whiskey. An Indian will drink
cider, though he niver be athirst.”

“I must say,” observed Hiram, with due deliberation, “that it was a
tongney thing; and I rather guess that it gave considerable
satisfaction, There was one part, though, which might have been left
out, or something else put in; but then I s’pose that, as it was a
written discourse, it is not so easily altered as where a minister
preaches without notes.”

“Ày! there’s the rub, Joodge,” cried the landlady. “How can a man stand
up and be preaching his word, when all that he is saying is written
down, and he is as much tied to it as iver a thaving dragoon was to the
pickets?”

“Well, well,” cried Marmaduke, waving his hand for silence, “there is
enough said; as Mr. Grant told us, there are different sentiments on
such subjects, and in my opinion he spoke most sensibly. So, Jotham, I
am told you have sold your betterments to a new settler, and have moved
into the village and opened a school. Was it cash or dicker?”

The man who was thus addressed occupied a seat immediately behind
Marmaduke, and one who was ignorant of the extent of the Judge’s
observation might have thought he would have escaped notice. He was of
a thin, shapeless figure, with a discontented expression of countenance,
and with something extremely shiftless in his whole air, Thus spoken to,
after turning and twisting a little, by way of preparation, he made a
reply:

“Why part cash and part dicker. I sold out to a Pumfietman who was
so’thin’ forehanded. He was to give me ten dollar an acre for the
clearin’, and one dollar an acre over the first cost on the woodland,
and we agreed to leave the buildin’s to men. So I tuck Asa Montagu, and
he tuck Absalom Bement, and they two tuck old Squire Napthali Green. And
so they had a meetin’, and made out a vardict of eighty dollars for
the buildin’s. There was twelve acres of clearin’ at ten dollars, and
eighty-eight at one, and the whole came to two hundred and eighty-six
dollars and a half, after paying the men.”

“Hum,” said Marmaduke, “what did you give for the place?”

“Why, besides what’s comin’ to the Judge, I gi’n my brother Tim a
hundred dollars for his bargain; but then there’s a new house on’t, that
cost me sixty more, and I paid Moses a hundred dollars for choppin’, and
loggin’, and sowin’, so that the whole stood to me in about two hundred
and sixty dollars. But then I had a great crop oft on’t, and as I got
twenty-six dollars and a half more than it cost, I conclude I made a
pretty good trade on’t.”

“Yes, but you forgot that the crop was yours without the trade, and you
have turned yourself out of doors for twenty-six dollars.”

“Oh! the Judge is clean out,” said the man with a look of sagacious
calculation; “he turned out a span of horses, that is wuth a hundred and
fifty dollars of any man’s money, with a bran-new wagon; fifty dollars
in cash, and a good note for eighty more; and a side-saddle that was
valued at seven and a half--so there was jist twelve shillings betwixt
us. I wanted him to turn out a set of harness, and take the cow and the
sap troughs. He wouldn’t--but I saw through it; he thought I should have
to buy the tacklin’ afore I could use the wagon and horses; but I knowed
a thing or two myself; I should like to know of what use is the tacklin’
to him! I offered him to trade back agin for one hundred and fifty-five.
But my woman said she wanted to churn, so I tuck a churn for the
change.”

“And what do you mean to do with your time this winter? You must
remember that time is money.”

“Why, as master has gone down country to see his mother, who, they say,
is going to make a die on’t, I agreed to take the school in hand till he
comes back, It times doesn’t get worse in the spring, I’ve some notion
of going into trade, or maybe I may move off to the Genesee; they say
they are carryin’ on a great stroke of business that-a-way. If the wust
comes to the wust, I can but work at my trade, for I was brought up in a
shoe manufactory.”

It would seem that Marmaduke did not think his society of sufficient
value to attempt inducing him to remain where he was, for he addressed
no further discourse to the man, but turned his attention to other
subjects. After a short pause, Hiram ventured a question:

“What news does the Judge bring us from the Legislature? It’s not likely
that Congress has done much this session; or maybe the French haven’t
fit any more battles lately?”

“The French, since they have beheaded their king, have done nothing but
fight,” returned the Judge. “The character of the nation seems changed.
I knew many French gentlemen during our war, and they all appeared to
me to be men of great humanity and goodness of heart; but these Jacobins
are as blood thirsty as bull-dogs.”

“There was one Roshambow wid us down at Yorrektown,” cried the landlady
“a mighty pratty man he was too; and their horse was the very same. It
was there that the sargeant got the hurt in the leg from the English
batteries, bad luck to ‘em.”

“Oh! mon pauvre roil” muttered Monsieur Le Quoi.

“The Legislature have been passing laws,” continued Marmaduke, “that
the country much required. Among others, there is an act prohibiting the
drawing of seines, at any other than proper seasons, in certain of our
streams and small lakes; and another, to prohibit the killing of deer
in the teeming months. These are laws that were loudly called for by
judicious men; nor do I despair of getting an act to make the unlawful
felling of timber a criminal offence.”

The hunter listened to this detail with breathless attention, and, when
the Judge had ended, he laughed in open derision.

“You may make your laws, Judge,” he cried, “but who will you find to
watch the mountains through the long summer days, or the lakes at night?
Game is game, and he who finds may kill; that has been the law in these
mountains for forty years to my sartain knowledge; and I think one old
law is worth two new ones. None but a green one would wish to kill a doe
with a fa’n by its side, unless his moccasins were getting old, or his
leggins ragged, for the flesh is lean and coarse. But a rifle rings
among the rocks along the lake shore, sometimes, as if fifty pieces were
fired at once--it would be hard to tell where the man stood who pulled
the trigger.”

“Armed with the dignity of the law, Mr. Bumppo,” returned the Judge,
gravely, “a vigilant magistrate can prevent much of the evil that has
hitherto prevailed, and which is already rendering the game scarce. I
hope to live to see the day when a man’s rights in his game shall be as
much respected as his title to his farm.”

“Your titles and your farms are all new together,” cried Natty; “but
laws should be equal, and not more for one than another. I shot a
deer, last Wednesday was a fort night, and it floundered through the
snow-banks till it got over a brush fence; I catched the lock of my
rifle in the twigs in following, and was kept back, until finally the
creature got off. Now I want to know who is to pay me for that deer; and
a fine buck it was. If there hadn’t been a fence I should have gotten
another shot into it; and I never drawed upon anything that hadn’t wings
three times running, in my born days. No, no, Judge, it’s the farmers
that makes the game scarce, and not the hunters.”

“Ter teer is not so plenty as in tee old war, Pumppo,” said the Major,
who had been an attentive listener, amid clouds of smoke; “put ter lant
is not mate as for ter teer to live on, put for Christians.”

“Why, Major, I believe you’re a friend to justice and the right, though
you go so often to the grand house; but it’s a hard case to a man to
have his honest calling for a livelihood stopped by laws, and that, too,
when, if right was done, he mought hunt or fish on any day in the week,
or on the best flat in the Patent, if he was so minded.”

“I unterstant you, Letter-Stockint,” returned the Major, fixing his
black eyes, with a look of peculiar meaning, on the hunter: “put you
didn’t use to be so prutent as to look ahet mit so much care.”

“Maybe there wasn’t so much occasion,” said the hunter, a little
sulkily; when he sank into a silence from which he was not roused for
some time.

“The Judge was saying so’thin’ about the French,” Hiram observed when
the pause in the conversation had continued a decent time.

“Yes, sir,” returned Marmaduke, “the Jacobins of France seem rushing
from one act of licentiousness to an other, They continue those murders
which are dignified by the name of executions. You have heard that they
have added the death of their queen to the long list of their crimes.”

“Les monstres!” again murmured Monsieur Le Quoi, turning himself
suddenly in his chair, with a convulsive start.

“The province of La Vendée is laid waste by the troops of the republic,
and hundreds of its inhabitants, who are royalists in their sentiments,
are shot at a time. La Vendée is a district in the southwest of
France, that continues yet much attached to the family of the Bourbons;
doubtless Monsieur Le Quoi is acquainted with it, and can describe it
more faithfully.”

“Non, non, non, mon cher ami,” returned the Frenchman in a suppressed
voice, but speaking rapidly, and gesticulating with his right hand, as
if for mercy, while with his left he concealed his eyes.

“There have been many battles fought lately,” continued Marmaduke,
“and the infuriated republicans are too often victorious. I cannot
say, however, that I am sorry that they have captured Toulon from the
English, for it is a place to which they have a just right.”

“Ah--ha!” exclaimed Monsieur Le Quoi, springing on his feet and
flourishing both arms with great animation; “ces Anglais!”

The Frenchman continued to move about the room with great alacrity for a
few minutes, repeating his exclamations to himself; when overcome by the
contrary nature of his emotions, he suddenly burst out of the house, and
was seen wading through the snow toward his little shop, waving his arms
on high, as if to pluck down honor from the moon. His departure excited
but little surprise, for the villagers were used to his manner; but
Major Hartmann laughed outright, for the first during his visit, as he
lifted the mug, and observed:

“Ter Frenchman is mat--put he is goot as for noting to trink: he is
trunk mit joy.”

“The French are good soldiers,” said Captain Hollis ter; “they stood
us in hand a good turn at Yorktown; nor do I think, although I am an
ignorant man about the great movements of the army, that his excellency
would have been able to march against Cornwallis without their
reinforcements.”

“Ye spake the trot’, sargeant,” interrupted his wife, “and I would iver
have ye be doing the same. It’s varry pratty men is the French; and jist
when I stopt the cart, the time when ye was pushing on in front it was,
to kape the riglers in, a rigiment of the jontlemen marched by, and so
I dealt them out to their liking. Was it pay I got? Sure did I, and
in good solid crowns; the divil a bit of continental could they muster
among them all, for love nor money. Och! the Lord forgive me for
swearing and spakeing of such vanities; but this I will say for the
French, that they paid in good silver; and one glass would go a great
way wid ‘em, for they gin’rally handed it back wid a drop in the cup;
and that’s a brisk trade, Joodge, where the pay is good, and the men not
over-partic’lar.”

“A thriving trade, Mrs. Hollister,” said Marmaduke. “But what has become
of Richard? he jumped up as soon as seated, and has been absent so long
that I am really fearful he has frozen.”

“No fear of that, Cousin ‘Duke,” cried the gentleman himself; “business
will sometimes keep a man warm the coldest night that ever snapt in the
mountains. Betty, your husband told me, as we came out of church, that
your hogs were getting mangy, and so I have been out to take a look at
them, and found it true. I stepped across, doctor, and got your boy to
weigh me out a pound of salts, and have been mixing it with their swill.
I’ll bet a saddle of venison against a gray squirrel that they are
better in a week. And now, Mrs. Hollister, I’m ready for a hissing mug
of flip.”

“Sure I know’d ye’d be wanting that same,” said the landlady; “it’s fixt
and ready to the boiling. Sargeant, dear, be handing up the iron, will
ye?--no, the one on the far fire, it’s black, ye will see. Ah! you’ve
the thing now; look if it’s not as red as a cherry.” The beverage was
heated, and Richard took that kind of draught which men are apt to
indulge in who think that they have just executed a clever thing,
especially when they like the liquor.

“Oh! you have a hand. Betty, that was formed to mix flip,” cried
Richard, when he paused for breath. “The very iron has a flavor in it.
Here, John, drink, man, drink! I and you and Dr. Todd have done a good
thing with the shoulder of that lad this very night. ‘Duke, I made a
song while you were gone--one day when I had nothing to do; so I’ll sing
you a verse or two, though I haven’t really determined on the tune yet.

“What is life but a scene of care, Where each one must toil in his way?
Then let us be jolly, and prove that we are A set of good fellows, who
seem very rare, And can laugh and sing all the day. Then let us be jolly
And cast away folly, For grief turns a black head to gray.”

“There, ‘Duke, what do you think of that? There is another verse of
it, all but the last line. I haven’t got a rhyme for the last line yet.
Well, old John, what do you think of the music? as good as one of your
war-songs, ha?”

“Good!” said Mohegan, who had been sharing deeply in the potations of
the landlady, besides paying a proper respect to the passing mugs of the
Major and Marmaduke.

“Bravo! pravo! Richart,” cried the Major, whose black eyes were
beginning to swim in moisture; “pravisimo his a goot song; put Natty
Pumppo has a petter. Letter-Stockint, vilt sing? say, olt poy, vilt sing
ter song as apout ter wools?”

“No, no, Major,” returned the hunter, with a melancholy shake of the
head, “I have lived to see what I thought eyes could never behold in
these hills, and I have no heart left for singing. If he that has a
right to be master and ruler here is forced to squinch his thirst,
when a-dry, with snow-Water, it ill becomes them that have lived by
his bounty to be making merry, as if there was nothing in the world but
sunshine and summer.”

When he had spoken, Leather-Stocking again dropped his head on his
knees, and concealed his hard and wrinkled features with his hands.
The change from the excessive cold without to the heat of the bar-room,
coupled with the depth and frequency of Richard’s draughts, had already
levelled whatever inequality there might have existed between him and
the other guests, on the score of spirits; and he now held out a pair of
swimming mugs of foaming flip toward the hunter, as he cried:

“Merry! ay! merry Christmas to you, old boy! Sun shine and summer! no!
you are blind, Leather-Stocking, ‘tis moonshine and winter--take these
spectacles, and open your eyes--

     So let us be jolly,
     And cast away folly,
     For grief turns a black head to gray.

--Hear how old John turns his quavers. What damned dull music an Indian
song is, after all, Major! I wonder if they ever sing by note.”

While Richard was singing and talking, Mohegan was uttering dull,
monotonous tones, keeping time by a gentle motion of his head and body.
He made use of but few words, and such as he did utter were in his
native language, and consequently only understood by himself and Natty.
Without heeding Richard, he continued to sing a kind of wild, melancholy
air, that rose, at times, in sudden and quite elevated notes, and then
fell again into the low, quavering sounds that seemed to compose the
character of his music.

The attention of the company was now much divided, the men in the rear
having formed themselves into little groups, where they were discussing
various matters; among the principal of which were the treatment of
mangy hogs and Parson Grant’s preaching; while Dr. Todd was endeavoring
to explain to Marmaduke the nature of the hurt received by the young
hunter. Mohegan continued to sing, while his countenance was becoming
vacant, though, coupled with his thick, bushy hair, it was assuming
an expression very much like brutal ferocity. His notes were gradually
growing louder, and soon rose to a height that caused a general
cessation in the discourse. The hunter now raised his head again, and
addressed the old warrior warmly in the Delaware language, which, for
the benefit of our readers, we shall render freely into English.

“Why do you sing of your battles, Chingachgook, and of the warriors you
have slain, when the worst enemy of all is near you, and keeps the Young
Eagle from his rights? I have fought in as many battles as any warrior
in your tribe, but cannot boast of my deeds at such a time as this.”

“Hawk-eye,” said the Indian, tottering with a doubtful step from his
place, “I am the Great Snake of the Delawares; I can track the Mingoes
like an adder that is stealing on the whip-poor-will’s eggs, and
strike them like the rattlesnake dead at a blow. The white man made the
tomahawk of Chingachgook bright as the waters of Otsego, when the last
sun is shining; but it is red with the blood of the Maquas.”

“And why have you slain the Mingo warriors? Was it not to keep these
hunting-grounds and lakes to your father’s children? and were they not
given in solemn council to the Fire-eater? and does not the blood of a
warrior run in the veins of a young chief, who should speak aloud where
his voice is now too low to be heard?”

The appeal of the hunter seemed in some measure to recall the confused
faculties of the Indian, who turned his face toward the listeners and
gazed intently on the Judge. He shook his head, throwing his hair
back from his countenance, and exposed eyes that were glaring with an
expression of wild resentment. But the man was not himself. His hand
seemed to make a fruitless effort to release his tomahawk, which was
confined by its handle to his belt, while his eyes gradually became
vacant. Richard at that instant thrusting a mug before him, his features
changed to the grin of idiocy, and seizing the vessel with both hands,
he sank backward on the bench and drank until satiated, when he made an
effort to lay aside the mug with the helplessness of total inebriety.

“Shed not blood!” exclaimed the hunter, as he watched the countenance
of the Indian in its moment of ferocity; “but he is drunk and can do no
harm. This is the way with all the savages; give them liquor, and they
make dogs of themselves. Well, well--the day will come when right will
be done; and we must have patience.”

Natty still spoke in the Delaware language, and of course was not
understood. He had hardly concluded before Richard cried:

“Well, old John is soon sewed up. Give him a berth, captain, in the
barn, and I will pay for it. I am rich to night, ten times richer than
‘Duke, with all his lands, and military lots, and funded debts, and
bonds, and mortgages,

     ‘Come, let us be jolly,
     And cast away folly, For grief---’

“Drink, King Hiram--drink, Mr. Doo-nothing---drink, sir, I say. This is a
Christmas eve, which comes, you know, but once a year.”

“He! he! he! the squire is quite moosical to-night,” said Hiram, whose
visage began to give marvellous signs of relaxation. “I rather guess we
shall make a church on’t yet, squire?”

“A church, Mr. Doolittle! we will make a cathedral of it! bishops,
priests, deacons, wardens, vestry, and choir; organ, organist, amid
bellows! By the Lord Harry, as Benjamin says, we will clap a steeple on
the other end of it, and make two churches of it. What say you, ‘Duke,
will you pay? ha! my cousin Judge, wilt pay?”

“Thou makest such a noise, Dickon,” returned Marmaduke, “it is
impossible that I can hear what Dr. Todd is saying. I think thou
observedst, it is probable the wound will fester, so as to occasion
danger to the limb in this cold weather?”

“Out of nater, sir, quite out of nater,” said Elnathan, attempting to
expectorate, but succeeding only in throwing a light, frothy substance,
like a flake of snow, into the fire--“quite out of nater that a wound
so well dressed, and with the ball in my pocket, should fester. I
s’pose, as the Judge talks of taking the young man into his house, it
will be most convenient if I make but one charge on’t.”

“I should think one would do,” returned Marmaduke, with that arch smile
that so often beamed on his face; leaving the beholder in doubt whether
he most enjoyed the character of his companion or his own covert humor.
The landlord had succeeded in placing the Indian on some straw in one
of his outbuildings, where, covered with his own blanket, John continued
for the remainder of the night.

In the mean time, Major Hartmann began to grow noisy and jocular; glass
succeeded glass, and mug after mug was introduced, until the carousal
had run deep into the night, or rather morning; when the veteran German
expressed an inclination to return to the mansion-house. Most of the
party had already retired, but Marmaduke knew the habits of his friend
too well to suggest an earlier adjournment. So soon, however, as the
proposal was made, the Judge eagerly availed himself of it, and the trio
prepared to depart. Mrs. Hollister attended them to the door in person,
cautioning her guests as to the safest manner of leaving her premises.

“Lane on Mister Jones, Major,” said she “he’s young and will be a
support to ye. Well, it’s a charming sight to see ye, anyway, at the
Bould Dragoon; and sure it’s no harm to be kaping a Christmas eve wid a
light heart, for it’s no telling when we may have sorrow come upon
us. So good-night, Joodge, and a merry Christmas to ye all tomorrow
morning.”

The gentlemen made their adieus as well as they could, and taking the
middle of the road, which was a fine, wide, and well-beaten path, they
did tolerably well until they reached the gate of the mansion-house:
but on entering the Judge’s domains they encountered some slight
difficulties. We shall not stop to relate them, but will just mention
that in the morning sundry diverging paths were to be seen in the snow;
and that once during their progress to the door, Marmaduke, missing his
companions, was enabled to trace them by one of these paths to a spot
where he discovered them with nothing visible but their heads, Richard
singing in a most vivacious strain:

“Come, let us be jolly, And cast away folly, For grief turns a black
head to gray.”



CHAPTER XV.


     “As she lay, on that day, in the Bay of Biscay, O!”

Previously to the occurrence of the scene at the “Bold Dragoon,”
 Elizabeth had been safely reconducted to the mansion-house, where she
was left as its mistress, either to amuse or employ herself during the
evening as best suited her own inclinations. Most of the lights were
extinguished; but as Benjamin adjusted with great care and regularity
four large candles, in as many massive candlesticks of brass, in a
row on the sideboard, the hall possessed a peculiar air of comfort and
warmth, contrasted with the cheerless aspect of the room she had left in
the academy.

Remarkable had been one of the listeners to Mr. Grant, and returned with
her resentment, which had been not a little excited by the language
of the Judge, somewhat softened by reflection and the worship. She
recollected the youth of Elizabeth, and thought it no difficult task,
under present appearances, to exercise that power indirectly which
hitherto she had enjoyed undisputed. The idea of being governed, or
of being compelled to pay the deference of servitude, was absolutely
intolerable; and she had already determined within herself, some half
dozen times, to make an effort that should at once bring to an issue the
delicate point of her domestic condition. But as often as she met the
dark, proud eye of Elizabeth, who was walking up and down the apartment,
musing on the scenes of her youth and the change in her condition, and
perhaps the events of the day, the housekeeper experienced an awe that
she would not own to herself could be excited by anything mortal. It,
however, checked her advances, and for some time held her tongue-tied.
At length she determined to commence the discourse by entering on a
subject that was apt to level all human distinctions, and in which she
might display her own abilities.

“It was quite a wordy sarmon that Parson Grant gave us to-night,” said
Remarkable. “The church ministers be commonly smart sarmonizers, but
they write down their idees, which is a great privilege. I don’t think
that, by nater, they are as tonguey speakers, for an off-hand discourse,
as the standing-order ministers.”

“And what denomination do you distinguish as the standing-order?”
 inquired Miss Temple, with some surprise.

“Why, the Presbyter’ans and Congregationals, and Baptists, too, for-til’
now; and all sitch as don’t go on their knees to prayer.”

“By that rule, then, you would call those who belong’ to the persuasion
of my father, the sitting-order,” observed Elizabeth. “I’m sure I’ve
never heard ‘em spoken of by any other’ name than Quakers, so called,”
 returned Remarkable, betraying a slight uneasiness; “I should be the
last to call them otherwise, for I never in my life used a disparaging’
tarm of the Judge, or any of his family. I’ve always set store by the
Quakers, they are so pretty-spoken, clever people, and it’s a wonderment
to me how your father come to marry into a church family; for they are
as contrary in religion as can be. One sits still, and, for the most
part; says nothing, while the church folks practyse all kinds of ways,
so that I sometimes think it quite moosical to see them; for I went to a
church-meeting once before, down country.”

“You have found an excellence in the church liturgy that has hitherto
escaped me. I will thank you to inquire whether the fire in my room
burns; I feel fatigued with my journey, and will retire.”

Remarkable felt a wonderful inclination to tell the young mistress
of the mansion that by opening a door she might see for herself; but
prudence got the better of resentment, and after pausing some little
time, as a salve to her dignity, she did as desired. The report was
favorable, and the young lady, wishing Benjamin, who was filling the
stove with wood, and the housekeeper, each a good-night, withdrew.

The instant the door closed on Miss Temple, Remark able commenced a
sort of mysterious, ambiguous discourse, that was neither abusive nor
commendatory of the qualities of the absent personage, but which
seemed to be drawing nigh, by regular degrees, to a most dissatisfied
description. The major-domo made no reply, but continued his occupation
with great industry, which being happily completed, he took a look at
the thermometer, and then opening a drawer of the sideboard, he produced
a supply of stimulants that would have served to keep the warmth in
his system without the aid of the enormous fire he had been building. A
small stand was drawn up near the stove, and the bottles and the glasses
necessary for convenience were quietly arranged. Two chairs were placed
by the side of this comfortable situation, when Benjamin, for the first
time, appeared to observe his companion.

“Come,” he cried, “come, Mistress Remarkable, bring yourself to an
anchor on this chair. It’s a peeler without, I can tell you, good woman;
but what cares I? blow high or blow low, d’ye see, it’s all the same
thing to Ben. The niggers are snug stowed below before a fire that would
roast an ox whole. The thermometer stands now at fifty-five, but if
there’s any vartue in good maple wood, I’ll weather upon it, before one
glass, as much as ten points more, so that the squire, when he comes
home from Betty Hollister’s warm room, will feel as hot as a hand that
has given the rigging a lick with bad tar. Come, mistress, bring up in
this here chair, and tell me how you like our new heiress.”

“Why, to my notion, Mr. Penguillum----”

“Pump, Pump,” interrupted Benjamin; “it’s Christmas eve, Mistress
Remarkable, and so, dye see, you had better call me Pump. It’s a shorter
name, and as I mean to pump this here decanter till it sucks, why, you
may as well call me Pump.”

“Did you ever!” cried Remarkable, with a laugh that seemed to unhinge
every joint in her body. “You’re a moosical creature, Benjamin, when the
notion takes you. But, as I was saying, I rather guess that times will
be altered now in this house.”

“Altered!” exclaimed the major-domo, eyeing the bottle, that was
assuming the clear aspect of cut glass with astonishing rapidity; “it
don’t matter much, Mistress Remarkable, so long as I keep the keys of
the lockers in my pocket.”

“I can’t say,” continued the housekeeper, “but there’s good eatables
and drinkables enough in the house for a body’s content--a little
more sugar, Benjamin, in the glass--for Squire Jones is an excellent
provider. But new lords, new laws; and I shouldn’t wonder if you and I
had an unsartain time on’t in footer.”

“Life is as unsartain as the wind that blows,” said Benjamin, with a
moralizing air; “and nothing is more varible than the wind, Mistress
Remarkable, unless you hap pen to fall in with the trades, d’ye see,
and then you may run for the matter of a month at a time, with
studding-sails on both sides, alow and aloft, and with the cabin-boy at
the wheel.”

“I know that life is disp’ut unsartain,” said Remark able, compressing
her features to the humor of her companion; “but I expect there will
be great changes made in the house to rights; and that you will find
a young man put over your head, as there is one that wants to be over
mine; and after having been settled as long as you have, Benjamin, I
should judge that to be hard.”

“Promotion should go according to length of sarvice,” said the
major-domo; “and if-so-be that they ship a hand for my berth, or place
a new steward aft, I shall throw up my commission in less time than you
can put a pilot-boat in stays. The Squire Dickon”--this was a common
misnomer with Benjamin--“is a nice gentleman, and as good a man to sail
with as heart could wish, yet I shall tel the squire, d’ye see, in plain
English, and that’s my native tongue, that if-so-be he is thinking
of putting any Johnny Raw over my head, why, I shall resign. I began
forrard, Mistress Prettybones, and worked my way aft, like a man. I
was six months aboard a Garnsey lugger, hauling in the slack of the
lee-sheet and coiling up rigging. From that I went a few trips in a
fore-and-after, in the same trade, which, after all, was but a blind
kind of sailing in the dark, where a man larns but little, excepting
how to steer by the stars. Well, then, d’ye see, I larnt how a topmast
should be slushed, and how a topgallant-sail was to be becketted; and
then I did small jobs in the cabin, such as mixing the skipper’s grog.
‘Twas there I got my taste, which, you must have often seen, is excel
lent. Well, here’s better acquaintance to us.” Remarkable nodded a
return to the compliment, and took a sip of the beverage before her;
for, provided it was well sweetened, she had no objection to a small
potation now and then, After this observance of courtesy between the
worthy couple, the dialogue proceeded.

“You have had great experiences in life, Benjamin; for, as the Scripter
says, ‘They that go down to the sea in ships see the works of the
Lord.’”

“Ay! for that matter, they in brigs and schooners, too; and it mought
say, the works of the devil. The sea, Mistress Remarkable, is a great
advantage to a man, in the way of knowledge, for he sees the fashions of
nations and the shape of a country. Now, I suppose, for myself here, who
is but an unlarned man to some that follows the seas, I suppose that,
taking the coast from Cape Ler Hogue as low down as Cape Finish-there,
there isn’t so much as a headland, or an island, that I don’t know
either the name of it or something more or less about it. Take enough,
woman, to color the water. Here’s sugar. It’s a sweet tooth, that fellow
that you hold on upon yet, Mistress Prettybones. But, as I was saying,
take the whole coast along, I know it as well as the way from here to
the Bold Dragoon; and a devil of acquaintance is that Bay of Biscay.
Whew! I wish you could but hear the wind blow there. It sometimes takes
two to hold one man’s hair on his head. Scudding through the bay is
pretty much the same thing as travelling the roads in this country, up
one side of a mountain and down the other.”

“Do tell!” exclaimed Remarkable; “and does the sea run as high as
mountains, Benjamin?”

“Well, I will tell; but first let’s taste the grog. Hem! it’s the right
kind of stuff, I must say, that you keep in this country; but then
you’re so close aboard the West Indies, you make but a small run of it.
By the Lord Harry, woman, if Garnsey only lay somewhere between Cape
Hatteras and the bite of Logann, but you’d see rum cheap! As to the
seas, they runs more in uppers in the Bay of Biscay, unless it may be in
a sow-wester, when they tumble about quite handsomely; thof it’s not in
the narrow sea that you are to look for a swell; just go off the Western
Islands, in a westerly blow, keeping the land on your larboard
hand, with the ship’s head to the south’ard, and bring to, under
a close-reefed topsail; or, mayhap, a reefed foresail, with a
fore-topmast-staysail and mizzen staysail to keep her up to the sea,
if she will bear it; and ay there for the matter of two watches, if
you want to see mountains. Why, good woman, I’ve been off there in the
Boadishey frigate, when you could see nothing but some such matter as a
piece of sky, mayhap, as big as the main sail; and then again, there
was a hole under your lee-quarter big enough to hold the whole British
navy.”

“Oh! for massy’s sake! and wa’n’t you afeard, Benjamin? and how did you
get off?”

“Afeard! who the devil do you think was to be frightened at a little
salt water tumbling about his head? As for getting off, when we had
enough of it, and had washed our decks down pretty well, we called all
hands, for, d’ye see, the watch below was in their hammocks, all the
same as if they were in one of your best bedrooms; and so we watched for
a smooth time, clapt her helm hard a weather, let fall the foresail,
and got the tack aboard; and so, when we got her afore it, I ask you,
Mistress Prettybones, if she didn’t walk? didn’t she? I’m no liar, good
woman, when I say that I saw that ship jump from the top of one sea to
another, just like one of these squirrels that can fly jumps from tree
to tree.”

“What! clean out of the water?” exclaimed Remark able, lifting her two
lank arms, with their bony hands spread in astonishment.

“It was no such easy matte: to get out of the water, good woman; for the
spray flew so that you couldn’t tell which was sea or which was cloud.
So there we kept her afore it for the matter of two glasses. The first
lieutenant he cun’d the ship himself, and there was four quarter masters
at the wheel, besides the master with six forecastle men in the gun-room
at the relieving tackles. But then she behaved herself so well! Oh! she
was a sweet ship, mistress! That one frigate was well worth more, to
live in, than the best house in the island. If I was king of England
I’d have her hauled up above Lon’on bridge, and fit her up for a palace;
because why? if anybody can afford to live comfortably, his majesty
can.”

“Well! but, Benjamin,” cried the listener, who was in an ecstasy of
astonishment at this relation of the steward’s dangers, “what did you
do?”

“Do! why, we did our duty like hearty fellows. Now if the countrymen of
Monnsheer Ler Quaw had been aboard of her, they would have just struck
her ashore on some of them small islands; but we run along the land
until we found her dead to leeward off the mountains of Pico, and dam’me
if I know to this day how we got there--whether we jumped over the
island or hauled round it; but there we was, and there we lay, under
easy sail, fore-reaching first upon one tack and then upon t’other, so
as to poke her nose out now and then and take a look to wind’ard till
the gale blowed its pipe out.”

“I wonder, now!” exclaimed Remarkable, to whom most of the terms used by
Benjamin were perfectly unintelligible, but who had got a confused idea
of a raging tempest. “It must be an awful life, that going to sea! and I
don’t feel astonishment that you are so affronted with the thoughts, of
being forced to quit a comfortable home like this. Not that a body cares
much for’t, as there’s more houses than one to live in. Why, when the
Judge agreed with me to come and live with him, I’d no more notion
of stopping any time than anything. I happened in just to see how the
family did, about a week after Mrs. Temple died, thinking to be back
home agin’ night; but the family was in such a distressed way that I
couldn’t but stop awhile and help em on. I thought the situation a good
one, seeing that I was an unmarried body, and they were so much in want
of help; so I tarried.”

“And a long time you’ve left your anchors down in the same place,
mistress. I think yo’ must find that the ship rides easy.”

“How you talk, Benjamin! there’s no believing a word you say. I must say
that the Judge and Squire Jones have both acted quite clever, so long;
but I see that now we shall have a specimen to the contrary. I heern say
thats the Judge was gone a great ‘broad, and that he meant to bring his
darter hum, but I didn’t calculate on sich carrins on. To my notion,
Benjamin, she’s likely to turn out a desp’ut ugly gal.”

“Ugly!” echoed the major-domo, opening eyes that were beginning to close
in a very suspicious sleepiness, in wide amazement. “By the Lord Harry,
woman, I should as soon think of calling the Boadishey a clumsy frigate.
What the devil would you have? Arn’t her eyes as bright as the morning
and evening stars? and isn’t her hair as black and glistening as rigging
that has just had a lick of tar? doesn’t she move as stately as a
first-rate in smooth water, on a bowline? Why, woman, the figure-head
of the Boadishey was a fool to her, and that, as I’ve often heard the
captain say, was an image of a great queen; and arn’t queens always
comely, woman? for who do you think would be a king, and not choose a
handsome bedfellow?”

“Talk decent, Benjamin,” said the housekeeper, “Or I won’t keep your
company. I don’t gainsay her being comely to look on, but I will
maintain that she’s likely to show poor conduct. She seems to think
herself too good to talk to a body. From what Squire Jones had telled
me, I some expected to be quite captivated by her company. Now, to my
reckoning, Lowizy Grant is much more pritty behaved than Betsey Temple.
She wouldn’t so much as hold discourse with me when I wanted to ask her
how she felt on coming home and missing her mammy.”

“Perhaps she didn’t understand you, woman; you are none of the best
linguister; and then Miss Lizzy has been exercising the king’s English
under a great Lon’on lady, and, for that matter, can talk the language
almost as well as myself, or any native-born British subject. You’ve
forgot your schooling, and the young mistress is a great scollard.”

“Mistress!” cried Remarkable; “don’t make one out to be a nigger,
Benjamin. She’s no mistress of mine, and never will be. And as to
speech, I hold myself as second to nobody out of New England. I was born
and raised in Essex County; and I’ve always heern say that the Bay State
was provarbal for pronounsation!”

“I’ve often heard of that Bay of State,” said Benjamin, “but can’t say
that I’ve ever been in it, nor do I know exactly whereaway it is that it
lays; but I suppose there is good anchorage in it, and that it’s no bad
place for the taking of ling; but for size it can’t be so much as a yawl
to a sloop of war compared with the Bay of Biscay, or, mayhap, Torbay.
And as for language, if you want to hear the dictionary overhauled like
a log-line in a blow, you must go to Wapping and listen to the Lon’oners
as they deal out their lingo. Howsomever, I see no such mighty matter
that Miss Lizzy has been doing to you, good woman; so take another drop
of your brews and forgive and forget, like an honest soul.”

“No, indeed! and I shan’t do sitch a thing, Benjamin. This treatment is
a newity to me, and what I won’t put up with. I have a hundred and fifty
dollars at use, besides a bed and twenty sheep, to good; and I don’t
crave to live in a house where a body mustn’t call a young woman by her
given name to her face. I will call her Betsey as much as I please;
it’s a free country, and no one can stop me. I did intend to stop while
summer, but I shall quit to-morrow morning; and I will talk just as I
please.”

“For that matter, Mistress Remarkable,” said Benjamin, “there’s none
here who will contradict you; for I’m of opinion that it would be as
easy to stop a hurricane with a Barcelony handkerchy as to bring up your
tongue when the stopper is off. I say, good woman, do they grow many
monkeys along the shores of that Bay of State?”

“You’re a monkey yourself, Mr. Penguillum,” cried the enraged
housekeeper, “or a bear--a black, beastly bear! and ain’t fit for a
decent woman to stay with. I’ll never, keep your company agin, sir, if
I should live thirty years with the Judge. Sitch talk is more befitting
the kitchen than the keeping-room of a house of one who is well-to-do in
the world.”

“Look you, Mistress Pitty--Patty------Prettybones, mayhap I’m some such
matter as a bear, as they will find who come to grapple with me; but
dam’me if I’m a monkey--a thing that chatters without knowing a word of
what it says--a parrot; that will hold a dialogue, for what an honest
man knows, in a dozen languages; mayhap in the Bay of State lingo;
mayhap in Greek or High Dutch. But dost it know what it means itself?
canst answer me that, good woman? Your midshipman can sing out, and pass
the word, when the captain gives the order, but just send him adrift by
himself, and let him work the ship of his own head, and stop my grog if
you don’t find all the Johnny Raws laughing at him.”

“Stop your grog, indeed!” said Remarkable, rising with great
indignation, and seizing a candle; “you’re groggy now, Benjamin and
I’ll quit the room before I hear any misbecoming words from you.” The
housekeeper retired, with a manner but little less dignified, as she
thought, than the air of the heiress, muttering as she drew the door
after her, with a noise like the report of a musket, the opprobrious
terms of “drunkard,” “sot,” and “beast.”

“Who’s that you say is drunk?” cried Benjamin fiercely, rising and
making a movement toward Remarkable. “You talk of mustering yourself
with a lady you’re just fit to grumble and find fault. Where the devil
should you larn behavior and dictionary? in your damned Bay of State,
ha?”

Benjamin here fell back in his chair, and soon gave vent to certain
ominous sounds, which resembled not a little the growling of his
favorite animal the bear itself. Be fore, however, he was quite
locked--to use the language that would suit the Della-cruscan humor of
certain refined minds of the present day--“in the arms of Morpheus,” he
spoke aloud, observing due pauses between his epithets, the impressive
terms of “monkey,” “parrot,” “picnic,” “tar pot,” and “linguisters”

We shall not attempt to explain his meaning nor connect his sentences;
and our readers must be satisfied with our informing them that they were
expressed with all that coolness of contempt that a man might well be
supposed to feel for a monkey.

Nearly two hours passed in this sleep before the major domo was awakened
by the noisy entrance of Richard, Major Hartmann, and the master of the
mansion. Benjamin so far rallied his confused faculties as to shape
the course of the two former to their respective apartments, when he
disappeared himself, leaving the task of securing the house to him
who was most interested in its safety. Locks and bars were but little
attended to in the early days of that settlement, and so soon as
Marmaduke had given an eye to the enormous fires of his dwelling he
retired. With this act of prudence closes the first night of our tale.



CHAPTER XVI


     “Watch (aside).
     Some treason, masters--
     Yet stand close.”
      --Much Ado About Nothing.

It was fortunate for more than one of the bacchanalians who left the
“Bold Dragoon” late in the evening that the severe cold of the season
was becoming rapidly less dangerous as they threaded the different mazes
through the snow-banks that led to their respective dwellings. Then
driving clouds began toward morning to flit across the heavens, and the
moon set behind a volume of vapor that was impelled furiously toward the
north, carrying with it the softer atmosphere from the distant ocean.
The rising sun was obscured by denser and increasing columns of
clouds, while the southerly wind that rushed up the valley brought the
never-failing symptoms of a thaw.

It was quite late in the morning before Elizabeth, observing the faint
glow which appeared on the eastern mountain long after the light of the
sun had struck the opposite hills, ventured from the house, with a view
to gratify her curiosity with a glance by daylight at the surrounding
objects before the tardy revellers of the Christmas eve should make
their appearance at the breakfast-table. While she was drawing the folds
of her pelisse more closely around her form, to guard against a cold
that was yet great though rapidly yielding, in the small inclosure that
opened in the rear of the house on a little thicket of low pines that
were springing up where trees of a mightier growth had lately stood, she
was surprised at the voice of Mr. Jones.

“Merry Christmas, merry Christmas to you, Cousin Bess,” he shouted. “Ah,
ha! an early riser, I see; but I knew I should steal a march on you. I
never was in a house yet where I didn’t get the first Christmas greeting
on every soul in it, man, woman, and child--great and small--black,
white, and yellow. But stop a minute till I can just slip on my coat.
You are about to look at the improvements, I see, which no one can
explain so well as I, who planned them all. It will be an hour
before ‘Duke and the Major can sleep off Mrs. Hollister’s confounded
distillations, and so I’ll come down and go with you.”

Elizabeth turned and observed her cousin in his night cap, with his head
out of his bedroom window, where his zeal for pre-eminence, in defiance
of the weather, had impelled him to thrust it. She laughed, and
promising to wait for his company re-entered the house, making her
appearance again, holding in her hand a packet that was secured by
several large and important seals, just in time to meet the gentleman.

“Come, Bessy, come,” he cried, drawing one of her arms through his own;
“the snow begins to give, but it will bear us yet. Don’t you snuff
old Pennsylvania in the very air? This is a vile climate, girl; now at
sunset, last evening, it was cold enough to freeze a man’s zeal, and
that, I can tell you, takes a thermometer near zero for me; then about
nine or ten it began to moderate; at twelve it was quite mild, and here
all the rest of the night I have been so hot as not to bear a blanket on
the bed.--Holla! Aggy--merry Christmas, Aggy--I say, do you hear me, you
black dog! there’s a dollar for you; and if the gentle men get up before
I come back, do you come out and let me know. I wouldn’t have ‘Duke get
the start of me for the worth of your head.”

The black caught the money from the snow, and promising a due degree of
watchfulness, he gave the dollar a whirl of twenty feet in the air,
and catching it as it fell in the palm of his hand, he withdrew to the
kitchen, to exhibit his present, with a heart as light as his face was
happy in its expression.

“Oh, rest easy, my dear coz,” said the young lady; “I took a look in at
my father, who is likely to sleep an hour; and by using due vigilance
you will secure all the honors of the season.”

“Why, Duke is your father, Elizabeth; but ‘Duke is a man who likes to
be foremost, even in trifles. Now, as for myself, I care for no such
things, except in the way of competition; for a thing which is of no
moment in itself may be made of importance in the way of competition. So
it is with your father--he loves to be first; but I only; struggle with
him as a competitor.”

“It’s all very clear, sir,” said Elizabeth; “you would not care a fig
for distinction if there were no one in the world but yourself; but as
there happens to be a great many others, why, you must struggle with
them all--in the way of competition.”

“Exactly so; I see you are a clever girl, Bess, and one who does credit
to her masters. It was my plan to send you to that school; for when your
father first mentioned the thing, I wrote a private letter for advice to
a judicious friend in the city, who recommended the very school you went
to. ‘Duke was a little obstinate at first, as usual, but when he heard
the truth he was obliged to send you.”

“Well, a truce to ‘Duke’s foibles, sir; he is my father, and if you knew
what he has been doing for you while we were in Albany, you would deal
more tenderly with his character.”

“For me!” cried Richard, pausing a moment in his walk to reflect. “Oh!
he got the plans of the new Dutch meeting-house for me, I suppose; but
I care very little about it, for a man of a certain kind of talent
is seldom aided by any foreign suggestions; his own brain is the best
architect.”

“No such thing,” said Elizabeth, looking provokingly knowing.

“No! let me see--perhaps he had my name put in the bill for the new
turnpike, as a director.”

“He might possibly; but it is not to such an appointment that I allude.”

“Such an appointment!” repeated Mr. Jones, who began to fidget with
curiosity; “then it is an appointment. If it is in the militia, I won’t
take it.

“No, no, it is not in the militia,” cried Elizabeth, showing the packet
in her hand, and then drawing it back with a coquettish air; “it is an
office of both honor and emolument.”

“Honor and emolument!” echoed Richard, in painful suspense; “show me the
paper, girl. Say, is it an office where there is anything to do?”

“You have hit it, Cousin Dickon; it is the executive office of the
county; at least so said my father when he gave me this packet to offer
you as a Christmas-box. Surely, if anything will please Dickon,’ he
said, ‘it will be to fill the executive chair of the county.’”

“Executive chair! what nonsense!” cried the impatient gentleman,
snatching the packet from her hand; “there is no such office in the
county. Eh! what! it is, I declare, a commission, appointing Richard
Jones, Esquire, sheriff of the county. Well, this is kind in ‘Duke,
positively. I must say ‘Duke has a warm heart, and never forgets his
friends. Sheriff! High Sheriff of--! it sounds well, Bess, but it shall
execute better. ‘Duke is a judicious man after all, and knows human
nature thoroughly, I’m much obliged to him,” continued Richard, using
the skirt of his coat unconsciously to wipe his eyes; “though I would
do as much for him any day, as he shall see, if I have an opportunity to
perform any of the duties of my office on him. It shall be done, Cousin
Bess----it shall be done, I say. How this cursed south wind makes one’s
eyes water!”

“Now, Richard,” said the laughing maiden, “now I think you will find
something to do. I have often heard you complain of old that there was
nothing to do in this new country, while to my eyes it seemed as if
everything remained to be done.”

“Do!” echoed Richard, who blew his nose, raised his little form to its
greatest elevation, and looked serious. “Everything depends on system,
girl. I shall sit down this afternoon and systematize the county. I must
have deputies, you know. I will divide the county into districts, over
which I will place my deputies; and I will have one for the village,
which I will call my home department. Let me see--ho! Benjamin! yes,
Benjamin will make a good deputy; he has been naturalized, and would
answer admirably if he could only ride on horseback.”

“Yes, Mr. Sheriff,” said his companion; “and as he understands ropes so
well, he would be very expert, should occasion happen for his services
in another way.”

“No,” interrupted the other; “I flatter myself that no man could hang a
man better than--that is--ha!--oh! yes, Benjamin would do extremely well
in such an unfortunate dilemma, if he could be persuaded to attempt it.
But I should despair of the thing. I never could induce him to hang, or
teach him to ride on horseback. I must seek another deputy.”

“Well, sir, as you have abundant leisure for all these important
affairs, I beg that you will forget that you are high sheriff, and
devote some little of your time to gallantry. Where are the beauties and
improvements which you were to show me?”

“Where? why, everywhere! Here I have laid out some new streets; and when
they are opened, and the trees felled, and they are all built up, will
they not make a fine town? Well, ‘Duke is a liberal-hearted fellow,
with all his stubbornness. Yes, yes; I must have at least four deputies,
besides a jailer.”

“I see no streets in the direction of our walk,” said Elizabeth, “unless
you call the short avenues through these pine bushes by that name.
Surely you do not contemplate building houses, very soon, in that forest
before us, and in those swamps.”

“We must run our streets by the compass, coz, and disregard trees, hills,
ponds, stumps, or, in fact, anything but posterity. Such is the will of
your father, and your father, you know----”

“Had you made sheriff, Mr. Jones,” interrupted the lady, with a tone
that said very plainly to the gentleman that he was touching a forbidden
subject.

“I know it, I know it,” cried Richard; “and if it were in my power,
I’d make ‘Duke a king. He is a noble hearted fellow, and would make an
excellent king; that is, if he had a good prime minister. But who have
we here? voices in the bushes--a combination about mischief, I’ll wager
my commission. Let us draw near and examine a little into the matter.”

During this dialogue, as the parties had kept in motion, Richard and his
cousin advanced some distance from the house into the open space in the
rear of the village, where, as may be gathered from the conversation,
streets were planned and future dwellings contemplated; but where, in
truth, the only mark of improvement that was to be seen was a neglected
clearing along the skirt of a dark forest of mighty pines, over which
the bushes or sprouts of the same tree had sprung up to a height that
interspersed the fields of snow with little thickets of evergreen. The
rushing of the wind, as it whistled through the tops of these mimic
trees, prevented the footsteps of the pair from being heard, while the
branches concealed their persons. Thus aided, the listeners drew nigh
to a spot where the young hunter, Leather-Stocking, and the Indian chief
were collected in an earnest consultation. The former was urgent in his
manner, and seemed to think the subject of deep importance, while Natty
appeared to listen with more than his usual attention to what the other
was saying. Mohegan stood a little on one side, with his head sunken
on his chest, his hair falling forward so as to conceal most of his
features, and his whole attitude expressive of deep dejection, if not of
shame. “Let us withdraw,” whispered Elizabeth; “we are intruders, and can
have no right to listen to the secrets of these men.”

“No right!” returned Richard a little impatiently, in the same tone, and
drawing her arm so forcibly through his own as to prevent her retreat;
“you forget, cousin, that it is my duty to preserve the peace of the
county and see the laws executed, these wanderers frequently commit
depredations, though I do not think John would do anything secretly.
Poor fellow! he was quite boozy last night, and hardly seems to be over
it yet. Let us draw nigher and hear what they say.”

Notwithstanding the lady’s reluctance, Richard, stimulated doubtless by
his sense of duty, prevailed; and they were soon so near as distinctly
to hear sounds.

“The bird must be had,” said Natty, “by fair means or foul. Heigho! I’ve
known the time, lad, when the wild turkeys wasn’t over-scarce in the
country; though you must go into the Virginia gaps if you want them now.
‘to be sure, there is a different taste to a partridge and a well-fatted
turkey; though, to my eating, beaver’s tail and bear’s ham make the
best of food. But then every one has his own appetite. I gave the last
farthing, all to that shilling, to the French trader, this very morning,
as I came through the town, for powder; so, as you have nothing, we can
have but one shot for it. I know that Billy Kirby is out, and means to
have a pull of the trigger at that very turkey. John has a true eye for
a single fire, and, some how, my hand shakes so whenever I have to do
anything extrawnary, that I often lose my aim. Now, when I killed the
she-bear this fall, with her cubs, though they were so mighty ravenous,
I knocked them over one at a shot, and loaded while I dodged the trees
in the bargain; but this is a very different thing, Mr. Oliver.”

“This,” cried the young man, with an accent that sounded as if he took
a bitter pleasure in his poverty, while he held a shilling up before his
eyes, “this is all the treasure that I possess--this and my rifle!
Now, indeed, I have become a man of the woods, and must place my sole
dependence on the chase. Come, Natty, let us stake the last penny for
the bird; with your aim, it cannot fail to be successful.”

“I would rather it should be John, lad; my heart jumps into my mouth,
because you set your mind so much out; and I’m sartain that I shall miss
the bird. Them Indians can shoot one time as well as another; nothing
ever troubles them. I say, John, here’s a shilling; take my rifle, and
get a shot at the big turkey they’ve put up at the stump. Mr. Oliver is
over-anxious for the creatur’, and I’m sure to do nothing when I have
over-anxiety about it.”

The Indian turned his head gloomily, and after looking keenly for a
moment, in profound silence, at his companions, he replied:

“When John was young, eyesight was not straighter than his bullet. The
Mingo squaws cried out at the sound of his rifle. The Mingo warriors
were made squaws. When did he ever shoot twice? The eagle went above
the clouds when he passed the wigwam of Chingachgook; his feathers were
plenty with the women. But see,” he said, raising his voice from
the low, mournful tones in which he had spoken to a pitch of keen
excitement, and stretching forth both hands, “they shake like a deer at
the wolf’s howl. Is John old? When was a Mohican a squaw with seventy
winters? No! the white man brings old age with him--rum is his
tomahawk!”

“Why, then, do you use it, old man?” exclaimed the young hunter; “why
will one, so noble by nature, aid the devices of the devil by making
himself a beast?”

“Beast! is John a beast?” replied the Indian slowly; “yes; you say no
lie, child of the Fire-eater! John is a beast. The smokes were once
few in these hills, The deer would lick the hand of a white man and the
birds rest on his head. They were strangers to him. My fathers came from
the shores of the salt lake. They fled before rum. They came to their
grandfather, and they lived in peace; or, when they did raise the
hatchet, it was to strike it into the brain of a Mingo. They gathered
around the council fire, and what they said was done. Then John was a
man. But warriors and traders with light eyes followed them. One brought
the long knife and one brought rum. They were more than the pines on the
mountains; and they broke up the councils and took the lands, The evil
spirit was in their jugs, and they let him loose. Yes yes--you say no
lie, Young Eagle; John is a Christian beast.”

“Forgive me, old warrior,” cried the youth, grasping his hand; “I should
be the last to reproach you. The curses of Heaven light on the cupidity
that has destroyed such a race. Remember, John, that I am of your
family, and it is now my greatest pride.”

The muscles of Mohegan relaxed a little, and he said, more mildly:

“You are a Delaware, my son; your words are not heard--John cannot
shoot.”

“I thought that lad had Indian blood in him,” whispered Richard, “by the
awkward way he handled my horses last night. You see, coz, they never
use harness. But the poor fellow shall have two shots at the turkey,
if he wants it, for I’ll give him another shilling myself; though,
per haps, I had better offer to shoot for him. They have got up their
Christmas sports, I find, in the bushes yonder, where you hear the
laughter--though it is a queer taste this chap has for turkey; not but
what it is good eating, too.”

“Hold, Cousin Richard,” exclaimed Elizabeth, clinging to his arm; “would
it be delicate to offer a shilling to that gentleman?”

“Gentleman, again! Do you think a half-breed, like him, will refuse
money? No, no, girl, he will take the shilling; ay! and even rum too,
notwithstanding he moralizes so much about it, But I’ll give the lad a
chance for his turkey; for that Billy Kirby is one of the best marksmen
in the country; that is, if we except the--the gentleman.”

“Then,” said Elizabeth, who found her strength unequal to her will,
“then, sir, I will speak.” She advanced, with an air of determination,
in front of her cousin, and entered the little circle of bushes that
surrounded the trio of hunters. Her appearance startled the youth, who
at first made an unequivocal motion toward retiring, but, recollecting
himself, bowed, by lifting his cap, and resumed his attitude of leaning
on his rifle. Neither Natty nor Mohegan betrayed any emotion, though the
appearance of Elizabeth was so entirely unexpected.

“I find,” she said, “that the old Christmas sport of shooting the turkey
is yet in use among you. I feel inclined to try my chance for a bird.
Which of you will take this money, and, after paying my fee, give me the
aid of his rifle?”

“Is this a sport for a lady?” exclaimed the young hunter, with an
emphasis that could not well be mistaken, and with a rapidity that
showed he spoke without consulting anything but feeling. “Why not, sir?
If it be inhuman the sin is not confined to one sex only. But I have
my humor as well as others. I ask not your assistance, but”--turning
to Natty, and dropping a dollar in his hand--“this old veteran of the
forest will not be so ungallant as to refuse one fire for a lady.”

Leather-Stocking dropped the money into his pouch, and throwing up the
end of his rifle he freshened his priming; and first laughing in his
usual manner, he threw the piece over his shoulder, and said:

“If Billy Kirby don’t get the bird before me, and the Frenchman’s powder
don’t hang fire this damp morning, you’ll see as fine a turkey dead, in
a few minutes, as ever was eaten in the Judge’s shanty. I have knowed
the Dutch women, on the Mohawk and Schoharie, count greatly on coming
to the merry-makings; and so, lad, you shouldn’t be short with the lady.
Come, let us go forward, for if we wait the finest bird will be gone.”

“But I have a right before you, Natty, and shall try on my own luck
first. You will excuse me, Miss Temple; I have much reason to wish that
bird, and may seem ungallant, but I must claim my privileges.”

“Claim anything that is justly your own, sir,” returned the lady; “we
are both adventurers; and this is my knight. I trust my fortune to his
hand and eye. Lead on, Sir Leather-Stocking, and we will follow.”

Natty, who seemed pleased with the frank address of the young and
beauteous Elizabeth, who had so singularly intrusted him with such a
commission, returned the bright smile with which she had addressed him,
by his own peculiar mark of mirth, and moved across the snow toward
the spot whence the sounds of boisterous mirth proceeded, with the
long strides of a hunter. His companions followed in silence, the youth
casting frequent and uneasy glances toward Elizabeth, who was detained
by a motion from Richard.

“I should think, Miss Temple,” he said, so soon as the others were out
of hearing, “that if you really wished a turkey, you would not have
taken a stranger for the office, and such a one as Leather-Stocking.
But I can hardly believe that you are serious, for I have fifty, at this
moment, shut up in the coops, in every stage of fat, so that you might
choose any quality you pleased. There are six that I am trying an
experiment on, by giving them brick-bats with--”

“Enough, Cousin Dickon,” interrupted the lady; “I do wish the bird, and
it is because I so wish that I commissioned this Mr. Leather-Stocking.”

“Did you ever hear of the great shot that I made at the wolf, Cousin
Elizabeth, who was carrying off your father’s sheep?” said Richard,
drawing himself up with an air of displeasure. “He had the sheep on his
hack; and, had the head of the wolf been on the other side, I should
have killed him dead; as it was--”

“You killed the sheep--I know it all, dear coz. Hut would it have been
decorous for the High Sheriff of--to mingle in such sports as these?”
 “Surely you did not think that I intended actually to fire with my own
hands?” said Mr. Jones. “But let us follow, and see the shooting. There
is no fear of anything unpleasant occurring to a female in this new
country, especially to your father’s daughter, and in my presence.”

“My father’s daughter fears nothing, sir, more especially when escorted
by the highest executive officer in the county.”

She took his arm, and he led her through the mazes of the bushes to the
spot where most of the young men of the village were collected for
the sports of shooting a Christmas match, and whither Natty and his
Companions had already preceded them.



CHAPTER XVII


     “I guess, by all this quaint array,
     The burghers hold their sports to-day.”
      --Scott.

The ancient amusement of shooting the Christmas turkey is one of the
few sports that the settlers of a new country seldom or never neglect to
observe. It was connected with the daily practices of a people who often
laid aside the axe or the scythe to seize the rifle, as the deer glided
through the forests they were felling, or the bear entered their rough
meadows to scent the air of a clearing, and to scan, with a look of
sagacity, the progress of the invader.

On the present occasion, the usual amusement of the day had been a
little hastened, in order to allow a fair opportunity to Mr. Grant, whose
exhibition was not less a treat to the young sportsmen than the one
which engaged their present attention. The owner of the birds was a free
black, who had prepared for the occasion a collection of game that was
admirably qualified to inflame the appetite of an epicure, and was well
adapted to the means and skill of the different competitors, who were of
all ages. He had offered to the younger and more humble marks men divers
birds of an inferior quality, and some shooting had already taken place,
much to the pecuniary advantage of the sable owner of the game. The
order of the sports was extremely simple, and well understood. The
bird was fastened by a string to the stump of a large pine, the side
of which, toward the point where the marksmen were placed, had been
flattened with an axe, in order that it might serve the purpose of a
target, by which the merit of each individual might be ascertained. The
distance between the stump and shooting-stand was one hundred measured
yards; a foot more or a foot less being thought an invasion of the right
of one of the parties. The negro affixed his own price to every bird,
and the terms of the chance; but, when these were once established, he
was obliged, by the strict principles of public justice that prevailed
in the country, to admit any adventurer who might offer.

The throng consisted of some twenty or thirty young men, most of whom
had rifles, and a collection of all the boys in the village. The little
urchins, clad in coarse but warm garments, stood gathered around
the more distinguished marksmen, with their hands stuck under their
waistbands, listening eagerly to the boastful stories of skill that had
been exhibited on former occasions, and were already emulating in their
hearts these wonderful deeds in gunnery.

The chief speaker was the man who had been mentioned by Natty as Billy
Kirby. This fellow, whose occupation, when he did labor, was that of
clearing lands, or chopping jobs, was of great stature, and carried in
his very air the index of his character. He was a noisy, boisterous,
reckless lad, whose good-natured eye contradicted the bluntness and
bullying tenor of his speech. For weeks he would lounge around the
taverns of the county, in a state of perfect idleness, or doing small
jobs for his liquor and his meals, and cavilling with applicants about
the prices of his labor; frequently preferring idleness to an abatement
of a little of his independence, or a cent in his wages. But, when these
embarrassing points were satisfactorily arranged, he would shoulder his
axe and his rifle, slip his arms through the straps of his pack, and
enter the woods with the tread of a Hercules. His first object was to
learn his limits, round which he would pace, occasionally freshening,
with a blow of his axe, the marks on the boundary trees; and then he
would proceed, with an air of great deliberation, to the centre of his
premises, and, throwing aside his superfluous garments, measure, with
a knowing eye, one or two of the nearest trees that were towering
apparently into the very clouds as he gazed upward. Commonly selecting
one of the most noble for the first trial of his power, he would
approach it with a listless air, whistling a low tune; and wielding his
axe with a certain flourish, not unlike the salutes of a fencing-master,
he would strike a light blow into the bark, and measure his distance.
The pause that followed was ominous of the fall of the forest which had
flourished there for centuries. The heavy and brisk blows that he struck
were soon succeeded by the thundering report of the tree, as it came,
first cracking and threatening with the separation of its own last
ligaments, then threshing and tearing with its branches the tops of its
surrounding brethren, and finally meeting the ground with a shock but
little inferior to an earthquake. From that moment the sounds of the
axe were ceaseless, while the failing of the trees was like a distant
cannonading; and the daylight broke into the depths of the woods with
the suddenness of a winter morning.

For days, weeks, nay months, Billy Kirby would toil with an ardor that
evinced his native spirit, and with an effect that seemed magical,
until, his chopping being ended, his stentorian lungs could be heard
emitting sounds, as he called to his patient oxen, which rang through
the hills like the cries of an alarm. He had been often heard, on a
mild summer’ evening, a long mile across the vale of Templeton; when the
echoes from the mountains would take up his cries, until they died away
in the feeble sounds from the distant rocks that overhung the lake. His
piles, or, to use the language of the country, his logging ended, with a
dispatch that could only accompany his dexterity and herculean strength,
the jobber would collect together his implements of labor, light the
heaps of timber, and march away under the blaze of the prostrate forest,
like the conqueror of some city who, having first prevailed over his
adversary, applies the torch as the finishing blow to his conquest.
For a long time Billy Kirby would then be seen sauntering around the
taverns, the rider of scrub races, the bully of cock-fights, and not
infrequently the hero of such sports as the one in hand.

Between him and the Leather-Stocking there had long existed a jealous
rivalry on the point of skill with the rifle. Notwithstanding the long
practice of Natty, it was commonly supposed that the steady nerves
and the quick eye of the wood-chopper rendered him his equal. The
competition had, however, been confined hitherto to boasting, and
comparisons made from their success in various hunting excursions; but
this was the first time they had ever come in open collision. A good
deal of higgling about the price of the choicest bird had taken place
between Billy Kirby and its owner before Natty and his companions
rejoined the sportsmen It had, however, been settled at one shilling *
a shot, which was the highest sum ever exacted, the black taking care to
protect himself from losses, as much as possible, by the conditions of
the sport.

  * Before the Revolution, each province had its own money of account
    though neither coined any but copper pieces.  In New York the Spanish
    dollar was divided into eight shillings, each of the value of a
    fraction more than sixpence sterling.  At present the Union has
    provided a decimal system, with coins to represent it.

The turkey was already fastened at the “mark,” hut its body was entirely
hid by the surrounding snow, nothing being visible but its red swelling
head and its long neck. If the bird was injured by any bullet that
struck below the snow, it was to continue the property of its present
owner; but if a feather was touched in a visible part, the animal became
the prize of the successful adventurer.

These terms were loudly proclaimed by the negro, who was seated in
the snow, in a somewhat hazardous vicinity to his favorite bird, when
Elizabeth and her cousin approached the noisy sportsmen. The sounds of
mirth and contention sensibly lowered at this unexpected visit; but,
after a moment’s pause, the curious interest exhibited in the face of
the young lady, together with her smiling air, restored the freedom
of the morning; though it was somewhat chastened, both in language and
vehemence, by the presence of such a spectator.

“Stand out of the way there, boys!” cried the wood-chopper, who was
placing himself at the shooting-point--stand out of the way, you little
rascals, or I will shoot through you. Now, Brom, take leave of your
turkey.

“Stop!” cried the young hunter; “I am a candidate for a chance. Here is
my shilling, Brom; I wish a shot too.”

“You may wish it in welcome,” cried Kirby, “but if I ruffle the
gobbler’s feathers, how are you to get it? Is money so plenty in your
deer-skin pocket, that you pay for a chance that you may never have?”

“How know you, sir, how plenty money is in my pocket?” said the youth
fiercely. “Here is my shilling, Brom, and I claim a right to shoot.”

“Don’t be crabbed, my boy,” said the other, who was very coolly fixing
his flint. “They say you have a hole in your left shoulder yourself, so
I think Brom may give you a fire for half-price. It will take a keen one
to hit that bird, I can tell you, my lad, even if I give you a chance,
which is what I have no mind to do.”

“Don’t be boasting, Billy Kirby,” said Natty, throwing the breech of his
rifle into the snow, and leaning on its barrel; “you’ll get but one
shot at the creatur’, for if the lad misses his aim, which wouldn’t be
a wonder if he did, with his arm so stiff and sore, you’ll find a good
piece and an old eye coming a’ter you. Maybe it’s true that I can’t
shoot as I used to could, but a hundred yards is a short distance for a
long rifle.”

“What, old Leather-Stocking, are you out this morning?” cried his
reckless opponent. “Well, fair play’s a jewel. I’ve the lead of you, old
fellow; so here goes for a dry throat or a good dinner.”

The countenance of the negro evinced not only all the interest which his
pecuniary adventure might occasion, but also the keen excitement that
the sport produced in the others, though with a very different wish as
to the result. While the wood-chopper was slowly and steadily raising
his rifle, he bawled;

“Fair play, Billy Kirby--stand back--make ‘em stand back, boys--gib a
nigger fair play--poss-up,--gobbler; shake a head, fool; don’t you see
‘em taking aim?”

These cries, which were intended as much to distract the attention of
the marksman as for anything else, were fruitless.

The nerves of the wood-chopper were not so easily shaken, and he took
his aim with the utmost deliberation. Stillness prevailed for a moment,
and he fired. The head of the turkey was seen to dash on one side, and
its wings were spread in momentary fluttering; but it settled itself
down calmly into its bed of snow, and glanced its eyes uneasily around.
For a time long enough to draw a deep breath, not a sound was heard.
The silence was then broken by the noise of the negro, who laughed, and
shook his body with all kinds of antics, rolling over in the snow in the
excess of delight.

“Well done, a gobbler,” he cried, jumping up and affecting to embrace
his bird; “I tell ‘em to poss-up, and you see ‘em dodge. Gib anoder
shillin’, Billy, and halb anoder shot.”

“No--the shot is mine,” said the young hunter; “you have my money
already. Leave the mark, and let me try my luck.”

“Ah! it’s but money thrown away, lad,” said Leather-Stocking. “A
turkey’s head and neck is but a small mark for a new hand and a lame
shoulder. You’d best let me take the fire, and maybe we can make some
settlement with the lady about the bird.”

“The chance is mine,” said the young hunter. “Clear the ground, that I
may take it.”

The discussions and disputes concerning the last shot were now abating,
it having been determined that if the turkey’s head had been anywhere
but just where it was at that moment, the bird must certainly have been
killed. There was not much excitement produced by the preparations of
the youth, who proceeded in a hurried manner to take his aim, and was in
the act of pulling the trigger, when he was stopped by Natty.

“Your hand shakes, lad,” he said, “and you seem over eager.
Bullet-wounds are apt to weaken flesh, and to my judgment you’ll not
shoot so well as in common. If you will fire, you should shoot quick,
before there is time to shake off the aim.”

“Fair play,” again shouted the negro; “fair play--gib a nigger fair
play. What right a Nat Bumppo advise a young man? Let ‘em shoot--clear a
ground.”

The youth fired with great rapidity, but no motion was made by the
turkey; and, when the examiners for the ball returned from the “mark,”
 they declared that he had missed the stump.

Elizabeth observed the change in his countenance, and could not help
feeling surprise that one so evidently superior to his companions should
feel a trifling loss so sensibly. But her own champion was now preparing
to enter the lists.

The mirth of Brom, which had been again excited, though in a much
smaller degree than before, by the failure of the second adventurer,
vanished the instant Natty took his stand. His skin became mottled
with large brown spots, that fearfully sullied the lustre of his native
ebony, while his enormous lips gradually compressed around two rows of
ivory that had hitherto been shining in his visage like pearls set in
jet. His nostrils, at all times the most conspicuous feature of his
face, dilated until they covered the greater part of the diameter of his
countenance; while his brown and bony hands unconsciously grasped the
snow-crust near him, the excitement of the moment completely overcoming
his native dread of cold.

While these indications of apprehension were exhibited in the sable
owner of the turkey, the man who gave rise to this extraordinary emotion
was as calm and collected as if there was not to be a single spectator
of his skill.

“I was down in the Dutch settlements on the Schoharie,” said Natty,
carefully removing the leather guard from the lock of his rifle, “just
before the breaking out of the last war, and there was a shooting-match
among the boys; so I took a hand. I think I opened a good many Dutch
eyes that day; for I won the powder-horn, three bars of lead, and a
pound of as good powder as ever flashed in pan. Lord! how they did swear
in Jarman! They did tell me of one drunken Dutchman who said he’d have
the life of me before I got back to the lake agin. But if he had put his
rifle to his shoulder with evil intent God would have punished him for
it; and even if the Lord didn’t, and he had missed his aim, I know one
that would have given him as good as he sent, and better too, if good
shooting could come into the ‘count.” By this time the old hunter was
ready for his business, and throwing his right leg far behind him, and
stretching his left arm along the barrel of his piece, he raised it
toward the bird, Every eye glanced rapidly from the marks man to the
mark; but at the moment when each ear was expecting the report of the
rifle, they were disappointed by the ticking sound of the flint.

“A snap, a snap!” shouted the negro, springing from his crouching
posture like a madman, before his bird. “A snap good as fire--Natty
Bumppo gun he snap--Natty Bumppo miss a turkey!”

“Natty Bumppo hit a nigger,” said the indignant old hunter, “if you don’t
get out of the way, Brom. It’s contrary to the reason of the thing, boy,
that a snap should count for a fire, when one is nothing more than a
fire-stone striking a steel pan, and the other is sudden death; so get
out of my way, boy, and let me show Billy Kirby how to shoot a Christmas
turkey.”

“Gib a nigger fair play!” cried the black, who continued resolutely to
maintain his post, and making that appeal to the justice of his auditors
which the degraded condition of his caste so naturally suggested.
“Eberybody know dat snap as good as fire. Leab it to Massa Jone--leab it
to lady.”

“Sartain,” said the wood-chopper; “it’s the law of the game in this part
of the country, Leather-Stocking. If you fire agin you must pay up the
other shilling. I b’lieve I’ll try luck once more myself; so, Brom,
here’s my money, and I take the next fire.”

“It’s likely you know the laws of the woods better than I do, Billy
Kirby,” returned Natty. “You come in with the settlers, with an ox-goad
in your hand, and I come in with moccasins on my feet, and with a good
rifle on my shoulders, so long back as afore the old war. Which is
likely to know the best? I say no man need tell me that snapping is as
good as firing when I pull the trigger.”

“Leab it to Massa Jone,” said the alarmed negro; “he know eberyting.”
 This appeal to the knowledge of Richard was too flattering to be
unheeded. He therefore advanced a little from the spot whither the
delicacy of Elizabeth had induced her to withdraw, and gave the
following opinion, with the gravity that the subject and his own rank
demanded:

“There seems to be a difference in opinion,” he said, “on the subject of
Nathaniel Bumppo’s right to shoot at Abraham Freeborn’s turkey without
the said Nathaniel paying one shilling for the privilege.” The fact was
too evident to be denied, and after pausing a moment, that the audience
might digest his premises, Richard proceeded: “It seems proper that I
should decide this question, as I am bound to preserve the peace of
the county; and men with deadly weapons in their hands should not be
heedlessly left to contention and their own malignant passions. It
appears that there was no agreement, either in writing or in words, on
the disputed point; therefore we must reason from analogy, which is,
as it were, comparing one thing with another. Now, in duels, where both
parties shoot, it is generally the rule that a snap is a fire; and if
such is the rule where the party has a right to fire back again, it
seems to me unreasonable to say that a man may stand snapping at a
defenceless turkey all day. I therefore am of the opinion that Nathaniel
Bumppo has lost his chance, and must pay another shilling before he
renews his right.”

As this opinion came from so high a quarter, and was delivered with
effect, it silenced all murmurs--for the whole of the spectators had
begun to take sides with great warmth--except from the Leather-Stocking
himself.

“I think Miss Elizabeth’s thoughts should be taken,” said Natty. “I’ve
known the squaws give very good counsel when the Indians had been
dumfounded. If she says that I ought to lose, I agree to give it up.”

“Then I adjudge you to be a loser for this time,” said Miss Temple; “but
pay your money and renew your chance; unless Brom will sell me the bird
for a dollar. I will give him the money, and save the life of the poor
victim.”

This proposition was evidently but little relished by any of the
listeners, even the negro feeling the evil excitement of the chances. In
the mean while, as Billy Kirby was preparing himself for another shot,
Natty left the stand, with an extremely dissatisfied manner, muttering:

“There hasn’t been such a thing as a good flint sold at the foot of the
lake since the Indian traders used to come into the country; and, if a
body should go into the flats along the streams in the hills to hunt for
such a thing, it’s ten to one but they will be all covered up with the
plough. Heigho! it seems to me that just as the game grows scarce, and
a body wants the best ammunition to get a livelihood, everything that’s
bad falls on him like a judgment. But I’ll change the stone, for Billy
Kirby hasn’t the eye for such a mark, I know.”

The wood-chopper seemed now entirely sensible that his reputation
depended on his care; nor did he neglect any means to insure success. He
drew up his rifle, and renewed his aim again and again, still appearing
reluctant to fire, No sound was heard from even Brom, during these
portentous movements, until Kirby discharged his piece, with the same
want of success as before. Then, indeed, the shouts of the negro rang
through the bushes and sounded among the trees of the neighboring forest
like the outcries of a tribe of Indians. He laughed, rolling his head
first on one side, then on the other, until nature seemed exhausted with
mirth. He danced until his legs were wearied with motion in the snow;
and, in short, he exhibited all that violence of joy that characterizes
the mirth of a thoughtless negro.

The wood-chopper had exerted all his art, and felt a proportionate
degree of disappointment at the failure. He first examined the bird with
the utmost attention, and more than once suggested that he had touched
its feathers; but the voice of the multitude was against him, for it
felt disposed to listen to the often-repeated cries of the black to “gib
a nigger fair play.”

Finding it impossible to make out a title to the bird, Kirby turned
fiercely to the black and said:

“Shut your oven, you crow! Where is the man that can hit a turkey’s head
at a hundred yards? I was a fool for trying. You needn’t make an uproar
like a falling pine-tree about it. Show me the man who can do it.”

“Look this a-way, Billy Kirby,” said Leather-Stocking, “and let them
clear the mark, and I’ll show you a man who’s made better shots afore
now, and that when he’s been hard pressed by the savages and wild
beasts.”

“Perhaps there is one whose rights come before ours, Leather-Stocking,”
 said Miss Temple. “If so, we will waive our privilege.”

“If it be me that you have reference to,” said the young hunter, “I
shall decline another chance. My shoulder is yet weak, I find.”

Elizabeth regarded his manner, and thought that she could discern a
tinge on his cheek that spoke the shame of conscious poverty. She said
no more, but suffered her own champion to make a trial. Although Natty
Bumppo had certainly made hundreds of more momentous shots at his
enemies or his game, yet he never exerted himself more to excel. He
raised his piece three several times: once to get his range; once
to calculate his distance; and once because the bird, alarmed by the
death-like stillness, turned its head quickly to examine its foes. But
the fourth time he fired. The smoke, the report, and the momentary shock
prevented most of the spectators from instantly knowing the result; but
Elizabeth, when she saw her champion drop the end of his rifle in the
snow and open his mouth in one of its silent laughs, and then proceed
very coolly to recharge his piece, knew that he had been successful. The
boys rushed to the mark, and lifted the turkey on high, lifeless, and
with nothing but the remnant of a head. “Bring in the creatur’,” said
Leather-Stocking, “and put it at the feet of the lady. I was her deputy
in the matter, and the bird is her property.”

“And a good deputy you have proved yourself,” returned
Elizabeth--“so good, Cousin Richard, that I would advise you to remember
his qualities.” She paused, and the gayety that beamed on her face gave
place to a more serious earnestness. She even blushed a little as she
turned to the young hunter, and with the charm of a woman’s manner
added: “But it was only to see an exhibition of the far-famed skill of
Leather-Stocking, that I tried my fortunes. Will you, sir, accept the
bird as a small peace offering for the hurt that prevented your own
success?”

The expression with which the youth received this present was
indescribable, He appeared to yield to the blandishment of her air, in
opposition to a strong inward impulse to the contrary. He bowed, and
raised the victim silently from her feet, but continued silent.

Elizabeth handed the black a piece of silver as a remuneration for his
loss, which had some effect in again unbending his muscles, and then
expressed to her companion her readiness to return homeward.

“Wait a minute, Cousin Bess,” cried Richard; “there is an uncertainty
about the rules of this sport that it is proper I should remove. If you
will appoint a committee, gentlemen, to wait on me this morning, I
will draw up in writing a set of regulations--’ He stopped, with some
indignation, for at that instant a hand was laid familiarly on the
shoulder of the High Sheriff of--.

“A merry Christmas to you, Cousin Dickon,” said Judge Temple, who had
approached the party unperceived: “I must have a vigilant eye to my
daughter, sir, if you are to be seized daily with these gallant fits. I
admire the taste which would introduce a lady to such scenes!”

“It is her own perversity, ‘Duke,” cried the disappointed sheriff, who
felt the loss of the first salutation as grievously as many a man would
a much greater misfortune; “and I must say that she comes honestly by
it. I led her out to show her the improvements, but away she scampered,
through the snow, at the first sound of fire-arms, the same as if she
had been brought up in a camp, instead of a first-rate boarding-school.
I do think, Judge Temple, that such dangerous amusements should be
suppressed, by statute; nay, I doubt whether they are not already indict
able at common law.”

“Well, sir, as you are sheriff of the county, it becomes your duty to
examine into the matter,” returned the smiling Marmaduke, “I perceive
that Bess has executed her commission, and I hope it met with a
favorable reception.” Richard glanced his eye at the packet which
he held in his hand, and the slight anger produced by disappointment
vanished instantly.

“Ah! ‘Duke, my dear cousin,” he said, “step a little on one side; I have
something I would say to you.”

Marmaduke complied, and the sheriff led him to a little distance in the
bushes, and continued: “First, ‘Duke, let me thank you for your friendly
interest with the Council and the Governor, without which I am confident
that the greatest merit would avail but little. But we are sisters’
children--we are sisters’ children, and you may use me like one of your
horses; ride me or drive me, ‘Duke, I am wholly yours. But in my humble
opinion, this young companion of Leather-Stocking requires looking
after. He has a very dangerous propensity for turkey.”

“Leave him to my management, Dickon,” said the Judge, “and I will cure
his appetite by indulgence. It is with him that I would speak. Let us
rejoin the sportsmen.”



CHAPTER XVIII.


     “Poor wretch! the mother that him bare,
     If she had been in presence there,
     In his wan face, and sunburnt hair,
     She had not known her child.”
      --Scott.

It diminished, in no degree, the effect produced by the conversation
which passed between Judge Temple and the I young hunter, that the
former took the arm of his daughter and drew it through his own, when
he advanced from the spot whither Richard had led him to that where the
youth was standing, leaning on his rifle, and contemplating the dead
bird at his feet. The presence of Marmaduke did not interrupt the
sports, which were resumed by loud and clamorous disputes concerning the
conditions of a chance that involved the life of a bird of much inferior
quality to the last. Leather-Stocking and Mohegan had alone drawn aside
to their youthful companion; and, although in the immediate vicinity of
such a throng, the following conversation was heard only by those who
were interested in it.

“I have greatly injured you, Mr. Edwards,” said the Judge; but the
sudden and inexplicable start with which the person spoken to received
this unexpected address, caused him to pause a moment. As no answer was
given, and the strong emotion exhibited in the countenance of the youth
gradually passed away, he continued: “But fortunately it is in some
measure in my power to compensate you for what I have done. My kinsman,
Richard Jones, has received an appointment that will, in future, deprive
me of his assistance, and leave me, just now, destitute of one who might
greatly aid me with his pen. Your manner, notwithstanding appearances,
is a sufficient proof of your education, nor will thy shoulder suffer
thee to labor, for some time to come.” (Marmaduke insensibly relapsed
into the language of the Friends as he grew warm.) “My doors are open
to thee, my young friend, for in this infant country we harbor no
suspicions; little offering to tempt the cupidity of the evil-disposed.
Be come my assistant, for at least a season, and receive such
compensation as thy services will deserve.”

There was nothing in the manner of the offer of the Judge to justify the
reluctance, amounting nearly to loathing, with which the youth listened
to his speech; but, after a powerful effort for self-command, he
replied:

“I would serve you, sir, or any other man, for an honest support, for I
do not affect to conceal that my necessities are very great, even beyond
what appearances would indicate; but I am fearful that such new duties
would interfere too much with more important business; so that I must
decline your offer, and depend on my rifle, as before, for subsistence.”

Richard here took occasion to whisper to the young lady, who had shrunk
a little from the foreground of the picture:

“This, you see, Cousin Bess, is the natural reluctance of a half-breed
to leave the savage state. Their attachment to a wandering life is, I
verily believe, unconquerable.”

“It is a precarious life,” observed Marmaduke, without hearing the
sheriff’s observation, “and one that brings more evils with it than
present suffering. Trust me, young friend, my experience is greater than
thine, when I tell thee that the unsettled life of these hunters is of
vast disadvantage for temporal purposes, and it totally removes one from
the influence of more sacred things.”

“No, no, Judge,” interrupted the Leather-Stocking, who was hitherto
unseen, or disregarded; “take him into your shanty in welcome, but tell
him truth. I have lived in the woods for forty long years, and have
spent five at a time without seeing the light of a clearing bigger than
a window in the trees; and I should like to know where you’ll find a
man, in his sixty-eighth year, who can get an easier living, for all
your betterments and your deer laws; and, as for honesty, or doing
what’s right between man and man, I’ll not turn my back to the
longest-winded deacon on your Patent.”

“Thou art an exception, Leather-Stocking,” returned the Judge, nodding
good-naturedly at the hunter; “for thou hast a temperance unusual in thy
class, and a hardihood exceeding thy years. But this youth is made of
I materials too precious to be wasted in the forest--I entreat thee to
join my family, if it be but till thy arm is healed. My daughter here,
who is mistress of my dwelling, wilt tell thee that thou art welcome.”

“Certainly,” said Elizabeth, whose earnestness was a little checked
by female reserve. “The unfortunate would be welcome at any time, but
doubly so when we feel that we have occasioned the evil ourselves,”
 “Yes,” said Richard, “and if you relish turkey, young man, there are
plenty in the coops, and of the best kind, I can assure you.”

Finding himself thus ably seconded, Marmaduke pushed his advantage to
the utmost. He entered into a detail of the duties that would attend
the situation, and circumstantially mentioned the reward, and all those
points which are deemed of importance among men of business. The youth
listened in extreme agitation. There was an evident contest in his
feelings; at times he appeared to wish eagerly for the change, and
then again the incomprehensible expression of disgust would cross his
features, like a dark cloud obscuring a noonday sun.

The Indian, in whose manner the depression of self-abasement was most
powerfully exhibited, listened to the offers of the Judge with an
interest that increased with each syllable. Gradually he drew nigher to
the group and when, with his keen glance, he detected the most marked
evidence of yielding in the countenance of his young companion, he
changed at once from his attitude and look of shame to the front of an
Indian warrior, and moving, with great dignity, closer to the parties,
he spoke.

“Listen to your father,” he said; “his words are old. Let the Young
Eagle and the Great Land Chief eat together; let them sleep, without
fear, near each other. The children of Miquon love not blood: they are
just, and will do right. The sun must rise and set often, be fore men
can make one family; it is not the work of a day, but of many winters.
The Mingoes and the Delawares are born enemies; their blood can never
mix in the wigwam; it never will run in the same stream in the battle.
What makes the brother of Miquon and the Young Eagle foes? They are of
the same tribe; their fathers and mothers are one. Learn to wait, my
son, you are a Delaware, and an Indian warrior knows how to be patient.”

This figurative address seemed to have great weight with the young
man, who gradually yielded to the representations of Marmaduke,
and eventually consented to his proposal. It was, however, to be an
experiment only; and, if either of the parties thought fit to rescind
the engagement, it was left at his option so to do. The remarkable and
ill-concealed reluctance of the youth to accept of an offer, which
most men in his situation would consider as an unhoped-for elevation,
occasioned no little surprise in those to whom he was a stranger; and
it left a slight impression to his disadvantage. When the parties
separated, they very naturally made the subject the topic of a
conversation, which we shall relate; first commencing with the Judge,
his daughter, and Richard, who were slowly pursuing the way back to the
mansion-house.

“I have surely endeavored to remember the holy man dates of our
Redeemer, when he bids us ‘love them who despitefully use you,’ in my
intercourse with this incomprehensible boy,” said Marmaduke. “I know not
what there is in my dwelling to frighten a lad of his years, unless it
may he thy presence and visage, Bess.”

“No, no,” said Richard, with great simplicity, “it is not Cousin
Bess. But when did you ever know a half-breed, ‘Duke, who could
bear civilization? For that mat ter, they are worse than the savages
themselves! Did you notice how knock-kneed he stood, Elizabeth, and what
a wild look he had in his eyes?”

“I heeded not his eyes, nor his knees, which would be all the better
for a little humbling. Really, my dear sir, I think you did exercise
the Christian virtue of patience to the utmost. I was disgusted with his
airs, long before he consented to make one of our family. Truly we are
much honored by the association! In what apartment is he to be placed,
sir; and at what table is he to receive his nectar and ambrosia?”

“With Benjamin and Remarkable,” interrupted Mr. Jones; “you sorely would
not make the youth eat with the blacks! He is part Indian, it is true;
but the natives hold the negroes in great contempt. No, no; he would
starve before he would break a crust with the negroes.”

“I am but too happy, Dickon, to tempt him to eat with ourselves,” said
Marmaduke, “to think of offering even the indignity you propose.”

“Then, sir,” said Elizabeth, with an air that was slightly affected, as
if submitting to her father’s orders in opposition to her own will, “it
is your pleasure that he be a gentleman.”

“Certainly; he is to fill the station of one. Let him receive the
treatment that is due to his place, until we find him unworthy of it.”

“Well, well, ‘Duke,” cried the sheriff, “you will find it no easy matter
to make a gentleman of him. The old proverb says that ‘it takes three
generations to make a gentleman.’ There was my father whom everybody
knew my grandfather was an M.D., and his father a D.D.; and his father
came from England, I never could come at the truth of his origin; but
he was either a great mer chant in London, or a great country lawyer, or
the youngest son of a bishop.”

“Here is a true American genealogy for you,” said Marmaduke, laughing.
“It does very well till you get across the water, where, as everything
is obscure, it is certain to deal in the superlative. You are sure that
your English progenitor was great, Dickon, whatever his profession might
have been?”

“To be sure I am,” returned the other. “I have heard my old aunt talk of
him by the month. We are of a good family, Judge Temple, and have never
filled any but honorable stations in life.”

“I marvel that you should be satisfied with so scanty a provision of
gentility in the olden time, Dickon. Most of the American genealogists
commence their traditions like the stories for children, with three
brothers, taking especial care that one of the triumvirate shall be
the pro genitor of any of the same name who may happen to be better
furnished with worldly gear than themselves. But, here, all are equal
who know how to conduct themselves with propriety; and Oliver Edwards
comes into my family on a footing with both the high sheriff and the
judge.”

“Well, ‘Duke, I call this democracy, not republicanism; but I say
nothing; only let him keep within the law, or I shall show him that the
freedom of even this country is under wholesome restraint.”

“Surely, Dickon, you will not execute till I condemn! But what says Bess
to the new inmate? We must pay a deference to the ladies in this matter,
after all.”

“Oh, sir!” returned Elizabeth, “I believe I am much like a certain Judge
Temple in this particular--not easily to be turned from my opinion. But,
to be serious, although I must think the introduction of a demi-savage
into the family a somewhat startling event, whomsoever you think proper
to countenance may be sure of my respect.”

The Judge drew her arm more closely in his own and smiled, while Richard
led the way through the gate of the little court-yard in the rear of
the dwelling, dealing out his ambiguous warnings with his accustomed
loquacity.

On the other hand, the foresters--for the three hunters, notwithstanding
their difference in character, well deserved this common name--pursued
their course along the skirts of the village in silence. It was not
until they had reached the lake, and were moving over its frozen surface
toward the foot of the mountain, where the hut stood, that the youth
exclaimed:

“Who could have foreseen this a month since! I have consented to serve
Marmaduke Temple--to be an inmate in the dwelling of the greatest enemy
of my race; yet what better could I do? The servitude cannot be long;
and, when the motive for submitting to it ceases to exist, I will shake
it off like the dust from my feet.”

“Is he a Mingo, that you will call him enemy?” said Mohegan. “The
Delaware warrior sits still, and waits the time of the Great Spirit. He
is no woman, to cry out like a child.”

“Well, I’m mistrustful, John,” said Leather-Stocking, in whose air there
had been, during the whole business, a strong expression of doubt and
uncertainty. “They say that there’s new laws in the land, and I’m sartin
that there’s new ways in the mountains. One hardly knows the lakes and
streams, they’ve altered the country so much. I must say I’m mistrustful
of such smooth speakers; for I’ve known the whites talk fair when
they wanted the Indian lands most. This I will say, though I’m a white
myself, and was born nigh York, and of honest parents, too.”

“I will submit,” said the youth; “I will forget who I am. Cease to
remember, old Mohegan, that I am the descendant of a Delaware chief, who
once was master of these noble hills, these beautiful vales, and of this
water, over which we tread. Yes, yes; I will become his bonds man--his
slave, Is it not an honorable servitude, old man?”

“Old man!” repeated the Indian solemnly, and pausing in his walk, as
usual, when much excited; “yes, John is old. Son of my brother! if
Mohegan was young, when would his rifle be still? Where would the deer
hide, and he not find him? But John is old; his hand is the hand of a
squaw; his tomahawk is a hatchet; brooms and baskets are his enemies--he
strikes no other. Hunger and old age come together. See Hawk-eye! when
young, he would go days and eat nothing; but should he not put the brush
on the fire now, the blaze would go out. Take the son of Miquon by the
hand, and he will help you.”

“I’m not the man I was, I’ll own, Chingachgook,” returned the
Leather-Stocking; “but I can go without a meal now, on occasion. When
we tracked the Iroquois through the ‘Beech-woods,’ they drove the
game afore them, for I hadn’t a morsel to eat from Monday morning come
Wednesday sundown, and then I shot as fat a buck, on the Pennsylvany
line, as ever mortal laid eyes on. It would have done your heart good to
have seen the Delaware eat; for I was out scouting and skrimmaging with
their tribe at the time. Lord! The Indians, lad, lay still, and just
waited till Providence should send them their game, but I foraged about,
and put a deer up, and put him down too, afore he had made a dozen
jumps. I was too weak and too ravenous to stop for his flesh, so I took
a good drink of his blood, and the Indians ate of his meat raw. John was
there, and John knows. But then starvation would be apt to be too much
for me now, I will own, though I’m no great eater at any time.”

“Enough is said, my friend,” cried the youth. “I feel that everywhere
the sacrifice is required at my hands, and it shall be made; but say no
more, I entreat you; I can not bear this subject now.”

His companions were silent; and they soon reached the hut, which they
entered, after removing certain complicated and ingenious fastenings,
that were put there apparently to guard a property of but very little
value. Immense piles of snow lay against the log walls of this secluded
habitation on one side; while fragments of small trees, and branches
of oak and chestnut, that had been torn from their parent stems by the
winds, were thrown into a pile on the other. A small column of smoke
rose through a chimney of sticks, cemented with clay, along the side of
the rock, and had marked the snow above with its dark tinges, in a wavy
line, from the point of emission to an other, where the hill receded
from the brow of a precipice, and held a soil that nourished trees of a
gigantic growth, that overhung the little bottom beneath.

The remainder of the day passed off as such days are commonly spent in a
new country. The settlers thronged to the academy again, to witness the
second effort of Mr. Grant; and Mohegan was one of his hearers. But, not
withstanding the divine fixed his eyes intently on the Indian when he
invited his congregation to advance to the table, the shame of last
night’s abasement was yet too keen in the old chief to suffer him to
move.

When the people were dispersing, the clouds that had been gathering
all the morning were dense and dirty, and before half of the curious
congregation had reached their different cabins, that were placed in
every glen and hollow of the mountains, or perched on the summits of the
hills themselves, the rain was falling in torrents. The dark edges of
the stumps began to exhibit themselves, as the snow settled rapidly;
the fences of logs and brush, which before had been only traced by long
lines of white mounds, that ran across the valley and up the mountains,
peeped out from their covering, and the black stubs were momentarily
becoming more distinct, as large masses of snow and ice fell from their
sides, under the influence of the thaw.

Sheltered in the warm hall of her father’s comfortable mansion,
Elizabeth, accompanied by Louisa Grant, looked abroad with admiration
at the ever-varying face of things without. Even the village, which
had just before been glittering with the color of the frozen element,
reluctantly dropped its mask, and the houses exposed their dark roofs
and smoked chimneys. The pines shook off the covering of snow, and
everything seemed to be assuming its proper hues with a transition that
bordered on the supernatural.



CHAPTER XIX.


    “And yet, poor Edwin was no vulgar boy.”
     --Beattie.

The close of Christmas Day, A.D. 1793, was tempestuous, but
comparatively warm. When darkness had again hid the objects in the
village from the gaze of Elizabeth, she turned from the window, where
she had remained while the least vestige of light lingered over the
tops of the dark pines, with a curiosity that was rather excited than
appeased by the passing glimpses of woodland scenery that she had caught
during the day.

With her arm locked in that of Miss Grant, the young mistress of the
mansion walked slowly up and down the hall, musing on scenes that were
rapidly recurring to her memory, and possibly dwelling, at times, in the
sanctuary of her thoughts, on the strange occurrences that had led
to the introduction to her father’s family of one whose Manners so
singularly contradicted the inferences to be drawn from his situation.
The expiring heat of the apartment--for its great size required a day
to reduce its temperature--had given to her cheeks a bloom that exceeded
their natural color, while the mild and melancholy features of Louisa
were brightened with a faint tinge, that, like the hectic of disease,
gave a painful interest to her beauty.

The eyes of the gentlemen, who were yet seated around the rich wines of
Judge Temple, frequently wandered from the table, that was placed at one
end of the hall, to the forms that were silently moving over its length.
Much mirth, and that, at times, of a boisterous kind, proceeded from the
mouth of Richard; but Major Hartmann was not yet excited to his pitch
of merriment, and Marmaduke respected the presence of his clerical guest
too much to indulge in even the innocent humor that formed no small
ingredient in his character.

Such were, and such continued to be, the pursuits of the party, for
half an hour after the shutters were closed, and candles were placed in
various parts of the hall, as substitutes for departing daylight. The
appearance of Benjamin, staggering under the burden of an armful of
wood, was the first interruption to the scene.

“How now, Master Pump!” roared the newly appointed sheriff; “is there
not warmth enough in ‘Duke’s best Madeira to keep up the animal heat
through this thaw? Remember, old boy, that the Judge is particular
with his beech and maple, beginning to dread already a scarcity of
the precious articles. Ha! ha! ha! ‘Duke, you are a good, warm-hearted
relation, I will own, as in duty bound, but you have some queer notions
about you, after all. ‘Come, let us be jolly, and cast away folly.”

The notes gradually sank into a hum, while the major-domo threw down
his load, and, turning to his interrogator with an air of earnestness,
replied:

“Why, look you, Squire Dickon, mayhap there’s a warm latitude round
about the table there, thof it’s not the stuff to raise the heat in my
body, neither; the raal Jamaiky being the only thing to do that,
besides good wood, or some such matter as Newcastle coal. But, if I know
anything of the weather, d’ye see, it’s time to be getting all snog, and
for putting the ports in and stirring the fires a bit. Mayhap I’ve not
followed the seas twenty-seven years, and lived another seven in these
here woods, for nothing, gemmen.”

“Why, does it bid fair for a change in the weather, Benjamin?” inquired
the master of the house.

“There’s a shift of wind, your honor,” returned the steward; “and when
there’s a shift of wind, you may look for a change in this here climate.
I was aboard of one of Rodney’s fleet, dye see, about the time we licked
De Grasse, Mounsheer Lor Quaw’s countryman, there; and the wind was here
at the south’ard and east’ard; and I was below, mixing a toothful of hot
stuff for the captain of marines, who dined, dye see, in the cabin, that
there very same day; and I suppose he wanted to put out the captain’s
fire with a gun-room ingyne; and so, just as I got it to my own liking,
after tasting pretty often, for the soldier was difficult to please,
slap came the foresail agin’ the mast, whiz went the ship round on her
heel, like a whirligig. And a lucky thing was it that our helm was down;
for as she gathered starnway she paid off, which was more than every
ship in the fleet did, or could do. But she strained herself in the
trough of the sea, and she shipped a deal of water over her quarter. I
never swallowed so much clear water at a time in my life as I did then,
for I was looking up the after-hatch at the instant.”

“I wonder, Benjamin, that you did not die with a dropsy!” said
Marmaduke.

“I mought, Judge,” said the old tar, with a broad grin; “but there was
no need of the medicine chest for a cure; for, as I thought the brew was
spoilt for the marine’s taste, and there was no telling when another
sea might come and spoil it for mine. I finished the mug on the spot.
So then all hands was called to the pumps, and there we began to ply the
pumps--”

“Well, but the weather?” interrupted Marmaduke; “what of the weather
without doors?”

“Why here the wind has been all day at the south, and now there’s a
lull, as if the last blast was out of the bellows; and there’s a streak
along the mountains, to the northard, that, just now, wasn’t wider than
the bigness of your hand; and then the clouds drive afore it as you’d
brail a mainsail, and the stars are heaving in sight, like so many
lights and beacons, put there to warn us to pile on the wood; and, if
so be that I’m a judge of weather, it’s getting to be time to build on
a fire, or you’ll have half of them there porter bottles, and them
dimmyjohns of wine, in the locker here, breaking with the frost, afore
the morning watch is called.”

“Thou art a prudent sentinel,” said the Judge. “Act thy pleasure with
the forests, for this night at feast.”

Benjamin did as he was ordered; nor had two hours elapsed, before the
prudence of his precautions became very visible. The south wind had,
indeed, blown itself cut, and it was succeeded by the calmness that
usually gave warning of a serious change in the weather. Long before the
family retired to rest, the cold had become cuttingly severe; and when
Monsieur Le Quoi sallied c forth under a bright moon, to seek his own
abode, he was compelled to beg a blanket, in which he might envelop c
his form, in addition to the numerous garments that his sagacity had
provided for the occasion. The divine and his daughter remained as
inmates of the mansion-house during the night, and the excess of last
night’s merriment c induced the gentlemen to make an early retreat to
their several apartments. Long before midnight, the whole family were
invisible.

Elizabeth and her friend had not yet lost their senses in sleep, and
the howlings of the northwest wind were heard around the buildings, and
brought with them that exquisite sense of comfort that is ever excited
under such circumstances, in an apartment where the fire has not yet
ceased to glimmer, and curtains, and shutters, and feathers unite to
preserve the desired temperature. Once, just as her eyes had opened,
apparently in the last stage of drowsiness, the roaring winds brought
with them a long and plaintive howl, that seemed too wild for a dog, and
yet resembled the cries of that faithful animal, when night awakens his
vigilance, and gives sweetness and solemnity to its charms. The form of
Louis Grant instinctively pressed nearer to that of the young heiress,
who, finding her companion was yet awake, said in a low tone, as if
afraid to break a charm with her voice:

“Those distant cries are plaintive, and even beautiful. Can they be the
hounds from the hut of Leather-Stocking?”

“They are wolves, who have ventured from the mountain, on the lake,”
 whispered Louisa, “and who are only kept from the village by the lights.
One night, since we have been here, hunger drove them to our very door.
Oh, what a dreadful night it was! But the riches of Judge Temple have
given him too many safeguards, to leave room for fear in this house.”

“The enterprise of Judge Temple is taming the very forests!” exclaimed
Elizabeth, throwing off the covering, and partly rising in the bed. “How
rapidly is civilization treading on the foot of Nature!” she continued,
as her eye glanced over not only the comforts, but the luxuries of her
apartment, and her ear again listened to the distant, but often repeated
howls from the lake. Finding, how-ever, that the timidity of her
companion rendered the sounds painful to her, Elizabeth resumed her
place, and soon forgot the changes in the country, with those in her own
condition, in a deep sleep.

The following morning, the noise of the female servant, who entered the
apartment to light the fire, awoke the females. They arose, and finished
the slight preparations I of their toilets in a clear, cold atmosphere,
that penetrated through all the defences of even Miss Temple’s warm
room. When Elizabeth was attired, she approached a window and drew its
curtain, and throwing open its shutters she endeavored to look abroad
on the village and the lake. But a thick covering of frost on the glass,
while it admitted the light, shut out the view. She raised the sash, and
then, indeed, a glorious scene met her delighted eye.

The lake had exchanged its covering of unspotted snow for a face of dark
ice, that reflected the rays of the rising sun like a polished mirror.
The houses clothed in a dress of the same description, but which, owing
to its position, shone like bright steel; while the enormous icicles
that were pendent from every roof caught the brilliant light, apparently
throwing it from one to the other, as each glittered, on the side next
the luminary, with a golden lustre that melted away, on its opposite,
into the dusky shades of a background. But it was the appearance of the
boundless forests that covered the hills as they rose in the distance,
one over the other, that most attracted the gaze of Miss Temple. The
huge branches of the pines and hemlocks bent with the weight of the ice
they supported, while their summits rose above the swelling tops of the
oaks, beeches, and maples, like spires of burnished silver issuing from
domes of the same material. The limits of the view, in the west, were
marked by an undulating outline of bright light, as if, reversing the
order of nature, numberless suns might momentarily he expected to heave
above the horizon. In the foreground of the picture, along the shores
of the lake, and near to the village, each tree seemed studded with
diamonds. Even the sides of the mountains where the rays of the sun
could not yet fall, were decorated with a glassy coat, that presented
every gradation of brilliancy, from the first touch of the luminary to
the dark foliage of the hemlock, glistening through its coat of crystal.
In short, the whole view was one scene of quivering radiancy, as lake,
mountains, village, and woods, each emitted a portion of light, tinged
with its peculiar hue, and varied by its position and its magnitude.

“See!” cried Elizabeth; “see, Louisa; hasten to the window, and observe
the miraculous change!”

Miss Grant complied; and, after bending for a moment in silence from the
opening, she observed, in a low tone, as if afraid to trust the sound of
her voice:

“The change is indeed wonderful! I am surprised that he should be able
to effect it so soon.”

Elizabeth turned in amazement, to hear so skeptical a sentiment from one
educated like her companion; but was surprised to find that, instead of
looking at the view, the mild blue eyes of Miss Grant were dwelling on
the form of a well-dressed young man, who was standing before the door
of the building, in earnest conversation with her father. A second look
was necessary before she was able to recognize the person of the young
hunter in a plain, but assuredly the ordinary, garb of a gentleman.

“Everything in this magical country seems to border on the marvellous,”
 said Elizabeth; “and, among all the changes, this is certainly not the
least wonderful, The actors are as unique as the scenery.”

Miss Grant colored and drew in her head.

“I am a simple country girl, Miss Temple, and I am afraid you will find
me but a poor companion,” she said. “I--I am not sure that I understand
all you say. But I really thought that you wished me to notice the
alteration in Mr. Edwards, Is it not more wonderful when we recollect
his origin? They say he is part Indian.”

“He is a genteel savage; but let us go down, and give the sachem his
tea; for I suppose he is a descendant of King Philip, if not a grandson
of Pocahontas.”

The ladies were met in the hall by Judge Temple, who took his daughter
aside to apprise her of that alteration in the appearance of their new
inmate, with which she was already acquainted.

“He appears reluctant to converse on his former situation,” continued
Marmaduke “but I gathered from his discourse, as is apparent from his
manner, that he has seen better days; and I am really inclining to the
opinion of Richard, as to his origin; for it was no unusual thing for
the Indian agents to rear their children in a laudable manner, and--”

“Very well, my dear sir,” interrupted his daughter, laughing and
averting her eyes; “it is all well enough, I dare say; but, as I do not
understand a word of the Mohawk language he must be content to speak
English; and as for his behavior, I trust to your discernment to control
it.”

“Ay! but, Bess,” cried the judge, detaining her gently by the hand,
“nothing must be said to him of his past life. This he has begged
particularly of me, as a favor, He is, perhaps, a little soured, just
now, with his wounded arm; the injury seems very light, and another time
he may be more communicative.”

“Oh! I am not much troubled, sir, with that laudable thirst after
knowledge that is called curiosity. I shall believe him to be the
child of Corn-stalk, or Corn-planter, or some other renowned chieftain;
possibly of the Big Snake himself; and shall treat him as such until he
sees fit to shave his good-looking head, borrow some half-dozen pair of
my best earrings, shoulder his rifle again, and disappear as suddenly
as he made his entrance. So come, my dear sir, and let us not forget the
rites of hospitality, for the short time he is to remain with us.”

Judge Temple smiled at the playfulness of his child, and taking her arm
they entered the breakfast parlor, where the young hunter was seated
with an air that showed his determination to domesticate himself in the
family with as little parade as possible.

Such were the incidents that led to this extraordinary increase in the
family of Judge Temple, where, having once established the youth, the
subject of our tale requires us to leave him for a time, to pursue with
diligence and intelligence the employments that were assigned him by
Marmaduke.

Major Hartmann made his customary visit, and took his leave of the party
for the next three months. Mr. Grant was compelled to be absent most of
his time, in remote parts of the country, and his daughter became almost
a constant visitor at the mansion-house. Richard entered, with his
constitutional eagerness, on the duties of his new office; and, as
Marmaduke was much employed with the constant applications of adventures
for farms, the winter passed swiftly away. The lake was the principal
scene f or the amusements of the young people; where the ladies, in
their one-horse cutter, driven by Richard, and attended, when the snow
would admit of it, by young Ed wards on his skates, spent many hours
taking the benefit of exercise in the clear air of the hills. The
reserve of the youth gradually gave way to time and his situation,
though it was still evident, to a close observer, that he had frequent
moments of bitter and intense feeling.

Elizabeth saw many large openings appear in the sides of the mountains
during the three succeeding months, where different settlers had, in the
language of the country “made their pitch,” while the numberless sleighs
that passed through the village, loaded with wheat and barrels of
potashes, afforded a clear demonstration that all these labors were
not undertaken in vain. In short, the whole country was exhibiting the
bustle of a thriving settlement, where the highways were thronged with
sleighs, bearing piles of rough household furniture, studded, here
and there, with the smiling faces of women and children, happy in the
excitement of novelty; or with loads of produce, hastening to the common
market at Albany, that served as so many snares to induce the emigrants
to enter into those wild mountains in search of competence and
happiness.

The village was alive with business, the artisans in creasing in wealth
with the prosperity of the country, and each day witnessing some nearer
approach to the manners and usages of an old-settled town. The man who
carried the mail or “the post,” as he was called, talked much of running
a stage, and, once or twice during the winter, he was seen taking a
single passenger, in his cutter, through the snow-banks, toward the
Mohawk, along which a regular vehicle glided, semi-weekly, with the
velocity of lightning, and under the direction of a knowing whip from
the “down countries,” Toward spring, divers families, who had been into
the “old States” to see their relatives, returned in time to save
the snow, frequently bringing with them whole neighborhoods, who were
tempted by their representations to leave the farms of Connecticut and
Massachusetts, to make a trial of fortune in the woods.

During all this time, Oliver Edwards, whose sudden elevation excited no
surprise in that changeful country, was earnestly engaged in the service
of Marmaduke, during the days; but his nights were often spent in the
hut of Leather-Stocking. The intercourse between the three hunters was
maintained with a certain air of mystery, it is true, but with much zeal
and apparent interest to all the parties. Even Mohegan seldom came to
the mansion-house, and Natty never; but Edwards sought every leisure
moment to visit his former abode, from which he would often return in
the gloomy hours of night through the snow, or, if detained beyond the
time at which the family retired to rest, with the morning sun. These
visits certainly excited much speculation in those to whom they were
known, but no comments were made, excepting occasionally in whispers
from Richard, who would say:

“It is not at all remarkable; a half-breed can never be weaned from
the savage ways--and, for one of his lineage, the boy is much nearer
civilization than could, in reason, be expected.”



CHAPTER XX.


     “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
which threatened a tiresome durability, began 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 reaction. These struggles
between the seasons became daily more frequent, while the earth, like
a victim to contention, slowly lost the animated brilliancy of winter,
without obtaining the 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 visitors; the trade that had enlivened the shops for
several months, began 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, everything seemed indicative of
a mighty change, not only in the earth, but in those who derived their
sources of comfort and happiness from its 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 excursions in the equipage of Richard, when with his four horses
he had outstripped the winds, 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 handsleds, impelled by the gentlemen on skates, would
each in turn be used; and, in short, every source of relief against the
tediousness of a 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
anticipated.

As exercise in the open air was in some degree necessary to the habits
of the family, when the constant recurrence of frosts and thaws rendered
the roads, which were dangerous at the most favorable times, utterly
impassable for wheels, saddle-horses were used as substitutes for 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 settler 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 different pursuits
admitted. Young Edwards was hourly becoming more familiarized to his
situation, and not infrequently mingled in the parties with an
unconcern and gayety that for a short time would expel all unpleasant
recollections from his mind. Habit, and the buoyancy of youth, seemed
to be getting the ascendency over the secret causes of his uneasiness;
though there were moments when the same remarkable expression of disgust
would cross his intercourse with Marmaduke, that had distinguished 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 indefatigable Richard, “we will
stop and see the ‘sugar bush’ 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 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 forecastleman does his marling-spike, or a tailor his goose.
They say he’ll lift a potash-kettle off the arch alone, though 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, wasn’t as white as an
old topgallant sail, but which my friend, Mistress Pettibones, 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 at the moment. When all
were safely in their saddles, they 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
centred in the village.

As each night brought with it a severe frost, which the heat of the
succeeding day served to dissipate, the equestrians were compelled
to proceed singly along the margin of the road, where the turf, and
firmness of the ground, gave the horses a secure footing. Very trifling
indications of vegetation were to be seen, the surface of the earth
presenting a cold, wet, and cheerless aspect that chilled the blood. 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 cloud, and
through an atmosphere that softened the colors of the sensible horizon
until it shone like a sea of blue.

Richard led the way on this, as on all other occasions 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, friend Jones,” 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 haycock.”

“And purchase the cargo of one of those ships that they say are going
to China,” cried Elizabeth; “turn your pot ash-kettles into teacups, 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 that 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 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 everything, 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 in 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, and the inquiry is quite useful,
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 the 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 has seen sugar made.
Let him give an account of 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; anything in Judge Temples 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 Frenchman 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 sucre in Martinique; mais--mais ce n’est pas one
tree--ah--ah--vat you call--je voudrois que ces chemins fussent au
diable--vat you call--steeck pour la 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 Elizabeth to the youth,
who was opening a passage for herself and her companions through
the bushes, “or per haps 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 toward the speaker, but its
resentful expression changed in a moment.

“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?”

“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 quickness.

“It is a common language with the Iroquois, and through the Canadas,” he
answered, smiling.

“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 putting an end to the evasive dialogue.

The discourse, however, was maintained with great vigor 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 from this 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 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 I bark of the alder, or of the sumach, were
fastened; and a trough, roughly dug out of the linden, or basswood, was
I 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 rang under the branches of the
trees, singing the following words of that inimitable doggerel, whose
verses, if extended, would reach from the Caters of the Connecticut to
the shores of Ontario. The tune was, of course, a familiar air which,
although it is said to have been first applied to this 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
hill 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 wood man’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, etc.

“And what’s a man without his glass. His wife without her tea, sir? But
neither cup nor mug will pass, Without his honey-bee, sir! Then flow
away,” etc.

During the execution of this sonorous doggerel, Richard kept time with
his whip on the mane of his charger, accompanying the gestures with a
corresponding movement of his head and body. Toward 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 good-natured 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 in the village?”

“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 natural 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 Jarman Flats is free from
stumps, and it has the raal maple flavor. Such stuff would sell in York
for candy.”

The Frenchman approached the place where Kirby had deposited his cake 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 course
do you pursue in making your sugar? I see you have but two kettles.”

“Two is as good as two thousand, Judge. I’m none 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 anyway, 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 some thing in knowing when and how to
stir the pot. It’s a thing that must be larnt. Rome wasn’t built in a
day, nor for that matter Templeton either, though it may be said to be a
quick-growing place. I never put my axe into a stunty tree, or one
that hasn’t a good, fresh-looking bark: for trees have disorders, like
creatur’s; 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 over heated
ox to do your logging?”

“All that is true. But what are the 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 ain’t 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 smartly, till I get the virtue of the sap; but
when it begins to grow of a molasses nater, like this in the kettle, one
mustn’t drive the fires too hard, or you’ll burn the sugar; and burny
sugar is bad to the taste, 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; bitt it isn’t always practised;
some doos and some doosn’t. Well, mounsher, be we likely to make a
trade?”

“I will give you, Mister Etel, for von pound, dix sous.”

“No, I expect cash for it; I never dicker my sugar, But, seeing that
it’s you, mounsher,” said Billy, with a Coaxing smile, “I’ll agree to
receive a gallon of rum, and cloth enough for two shirts if you’ll 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 that 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. Jevausraner cie, 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 on 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 you will say it is worth more than you offer.
The molasses itself would fetch the money.”

The complaisant Frenchman, after several timid efforts to trust his
lips in contact with the howl of the ladle, got a good swallow of the
scalding liquid. He clapped his hands on his breast, and looked most
piteously at the ladies, for a single instant; and then, to use the
language of Billy, when he afterward recounted the tale, “no drumsticks
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
saw. But it’s a knowing one, from the old countries, that thinks to get
his jokes smoothly over a wood-chopper.”

The air of innocence with which Kirby resumed the occupation of
stirring the contents of his kettles would have completely deceived the
spectators as to his agency in the temporary sufferings 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 natural. Mr. Le Quoi soon recovered his presence of mind
and his decorum; and 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
background during the remainder of the visit, the wit of Kirby putting
a violent termination, at once, to all negotiations on the subject of
trade. During all this time, Marmaduke had been wandering about the
grove, making observations on his favorite 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, “where the 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 ad dressed; “it seems to
me, if there’s plenty of anything 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
natural to me, and I wish no other employment; but Jared Ransom said
that he thought the sugar was likely to be source 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, consarning ashes? do pots hold so that a man can live by them
still? I s’pose they will, if they keep on fighting across the water.”

“Thou reasonest with judgment, William,” returned Marmaduke. “So long as
the Old Worm is to be convulsed with wars, so long will the harvest of
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 any time, unless I’m
privileged to work my will on them: in which case I can’t say but they
are more to my liking. I have heard 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 humsteds and
scattered over their farms, just to look at. 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, you dig them--they
make a fence that will turn anything bigger than a hog, being grand for
breachy cattle.”

“Opinions 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 sugar-camp, on their way to the promised landscape of
Richard. The wood-chop-per was left alone, in the bosom of the forest,
to pursue his labors. 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 his strains 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, Whoa, back there, and haw and gee;
Till our labor is mutually ended, By my strength and cattle befriended,
And against the mosquitoes defended By the bark of the walnut-trees.
Away! then, you lads who would buy land; Choose the oak that grows
on the high land, or the silvery pine on the dry land, it matters but
little to me.”



CHAPTER XXI.


     “Speed! Malise, speed! such cause of haste
     Thine active sinews never braced.”
      --Scott.

The roads of Otsego, if we except the principal high ways, were, at the
early day of our tale, but little better than wood-paths. 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 country to the depth of several inches, occasioned but an
indifferent foundation for the footing of travellers. Added to these
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 unpracticed eye,
gave no demonstrations of uneasiness as their horses toiled through the
sloughs or trotted with uncertain paces along the 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 a highway.

Into one of these roads the active sheriff led the way, first striking
out of the foot-path, 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 of a formidable width were frequent. The
nag of Richard, when it reached one of these gaps, 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 curt 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 may 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
I shall 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 bad 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 recollect hearing you speak of your first visit to these woods,
but the impression 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 fervor 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 of produce 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 unpracticed 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 endeavoring
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 to
go into Pennsylvania to fatten; but, damn it, thinks I, we are sisters’
children, and I will live or die with him, after all.”

  * The author has no better apology for interrupting the interest of a
    work of fiction by these desultory dialogues than that they have ref-
    erence to facts.  In reviewing his work, after so many years, he is
    compelled to confess it is injured by too many allusions to incidents
    that are not at all suited to satisfy the just expectations of the
    general reader.  One of these events is slightly touched on in the
    commencement of this chapter.

More than thirty years since a very near and dear relative of the
writer, an elder sister and a second mother, was killed by a fall from a
horse in a ride among the very mountains mentioned in this tale. Few
of her sex and years were more extensively known or more universally
beloved than the admirable woman who thus fell a victim to the chances
of the wilderness. “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 in a 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 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 paralyzed 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 in action. 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 on pack-horses into the wilderness
and distributed among my people. Seines were made, and the lakes and
rivers were dragged for fish. Something like a miracle was wrought
in our favor, for enormous shoals of herrings 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.” *

  * All this was literally true.

“Yes,” cried Richard, “and I was the man who served out the fish and
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, disregarding the
interruption of his cousin, “he who hears of the settlement of a country
knows but little of the 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, 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 open the 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
Susquehanna was then hid by the height and density of the forest.”

“And were you alone?” asked Elizabeth: “passed you the night in that
solitary state?”

“Not so, my child,” returned the father. “After 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 smoke curling from
under the mountain, near the eastern bank 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 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 interrogations; but the
youth himself continued the discourse by asking:

“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, but supposed 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 learned 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? 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 nearly comprehend
him, and may have forgotten what he 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 the 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 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 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 fast nesses 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, log bridges, and sloughs
that formed the aggregate of the highway. “Je vous entends; de low
countrie is 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, which
was 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 the 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 eminencies 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 northwester.

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, 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 the management of her horse. It
was, possibly, the evident dependence 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 forests that surrounded them. No wind
had yet reached the spot where the equestrians were in motion, but that
dead silence that often precedes a storm contributed to render their
situation more irksome than if they were already subject 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 the
next instant her bridlet was seized by her father, who cried, “God
protect my child!” and she felt herself hurried onward, impelled by the
vigor of his nervous arm.

Each one of the party bowed to his saddle-bows 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 of 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, 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. Louisa 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 sunk 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 fallings of the trees,” said Marmaduke, “are the most
dangerous 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 is old 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 math--”

“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 anything, sir. Do any trees fall in this manner but
such as are decayed? Take care not to approach the roots of a rotten
tree, 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 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 mansion-house, the black plumes of 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 Edwards was assisting Louisa from her horse, the warm-hearted girl
caught his hand with fervor and whispered:

“Now, Mr. Edwards, both father and daughter owe their lives to you.”

A driving northwesterly 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 hidden under one dazzling coat of
snow.



CHAPTER XXII


     “Men, boys, and girls
     Desert the unpeopled village; and wild crowds
     Spread o’er the plain, by the sweet phrensy driven.”
      --Somerville.

From this time to the close of April the weather continued to be a
succession of neat and rapid changes. One day the soft airs of
spring seemed 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 woods of maple. The lake had lost the
beauty of a field of ice, but still a dark and gloomy covering concealed
its waters, for the absence of currents left them yet hidden under a
porous crust, which, saturated with the fluid, barely retained enough
strength to preserve the continuity 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 a
resting-place; and then, on finding them selves excluded by the chill
covering, would soar away to the north, filling the air with 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 eyeing 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 contempt. 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 prevented
the formation of ice during even the coldest weather; and the fresh
southerly winds, that now breathed freely upon the valley, made an
impression on the waters. Mimic waves began to curl over the margin of
the frozen field, which exhibited an outline of crystallizations that
slowly receded toward 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 motion,
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, and soared with a wide
sweep above the clouds, while the waves tossed their little caps of
snow in the air, as if rioting in their release from a thraldom of five
minutes’ duration.

The following morning Elizabeth was awakened by the exhilarating sounds
of the martens, who were quarrelling and chattering around the little
boxes suspended above her windows, and the cries of Richard, who was
calling in tones animating as signs of the season itself:

“Awake! awake! my fair lady! the gulls are hovering over the lake
already, and the heavens are alive with 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 parlor. 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 equipped 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 are growing 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 country. 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.”

In this wish both Marmaduke and young Edwards seemed equally to
participate, for the sight was 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 firearm, from
the French ducking gun, with a barrel 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 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, toward the
mountains, along the sides and near the bases of which they were
glancing in dense masses, equally wonderful by the rapidity of their
motion and 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, and in a few moments the attack
commenced.

Among the sportsmen was the tall, gaunt form of Leather-Stocking,
walking over the field, with his rifle hanging on his arm, his dogs at
his heels; the latter 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 unsportsmanlike execution.

The reports of the firearms became rapid, whole volleys rising from the
plain, as flocks of more than ordinary numbers darted over the opening,
shadowing the field like a 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, in a vain effort to escape. Arrows and missiles of every
kind were 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 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 pound weight. 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, convenience or their necessity induced them to leave such an
incumberance 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 used in those mountains. On the mornings of
the Fourth of July it would be heard ringing among the hills; 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 planning a battery of the kind, and Mr. Pump
proceeded to load it. Several handfuls of duck-shot were placed on top
of the powder, and the major-domo 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 cries of exultation
and delight The gun was pointed high, and Richard, holding a coal of
fire in a pair of tongs, patiently took his seat on a stump, awaiting
the appearance of a flock 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 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 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
pigeon to fly for forty long years, and, till you made your clearings,
there was nobody to skeart 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 of the village. Well,
the Lord won’t see the waste of his creatures 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 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! 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 toward 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 that don’t know how to put a ball down a
rifle-barrel, or how to bring it up again with a true aim; but it’s
wicked to be shooting into flocks in this wasty manner, and none to 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 creatures, 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 the feather of another, though
there might be a hundred on the same tree. You couldn’t do such a thing,
Billy Kirby--you couldn’t do it if you tried.”

“What’s that, old corn-stalk! you sapless stub!” cried the wood-chopper.
“You have grown wordy, since the affair of the turkey; but if you are
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 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 this bird until it was too
late to fire as it approached, and he pulled the trigger at the unlucky
moment when it was darting immediately over his head. The bird continued
its course with the usual velocity.

Natty lowered his rifle from his arm when the challenge was made, and
waiting a moment, until the terrified victim had got in a line with his
eye, 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
creatures in this wicked manner. But I came out for a bird, and you know
the reason why I like small game, Mr. Oliver, and now I have got one
Twill 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,” cried Marmaduke, “and I begin to
think it time to put an end to this work of destruction.”

“Put an ind, Judge, to your clearings. Ain’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 harbor 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 cover 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 month, Leather-Stocking 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 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
occasion, “stand by, my hearties, and when Squire Dickens heaves out the
signal to begin 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?” cried Benjamin, with a very
unbecoming heat for an officer on the eve of battle--“how should you
know, you grampus? Haven’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 musket-men were silenced by the more
authoritative voice of Richard, who called 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 a poise.

“Fire!” cried the sheriff, clapping a 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 the 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 flock of alarmed birds seemed, for a moment,
thrown into one disorderly and agitated mass. The air was filled with
their irregular flight, layer rising above layer, far above the tops
of the highest pines, none daring to advance beyond the dangerous pass;
when, suddenly, some of the headers of the feathered tribes shot across
the valley, taking their flight directly over the village, and hundreds
of thousands in their rear followed the example, deserting the eastern
side of the plain to their persecutors and the slain.

“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 Leather-Stocking, I see nothing but eyes, in every direction,
as the innocent sufferers turn their heads in terror. 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 blue-coated 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 of the
valley,” said Marmaduke, “and the carnage must of necessity end for the
present. Boys, I will give you sixpence a hundred for the pigeons’ heads
only; so go to work, and bring them into the village.”

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 toward his dwelling with that kind of
feeling that many a man has experienced before him, who discovers, after
the excitement 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, with a few idlers, for the remainder of the season, Richard,
however, boasted for many a year of his shot with the “cricket;” and
Benjamin gravely asserted that he thought they had killed nearly as many
pigeons on that day as there were Frenchmen destroyed on the memorable
occasion of Rodney’s victory.



CHAPTER XXIII.


  “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, 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 colors 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 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 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 design, “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 salmon-trout. There he will sit for hours, in a broiling sun
or, perhaps, over a hole in the lee, 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, with Benjamin to steer, and let us haul
them in by thousands; I 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 thou hast headed a night party on the lake, to feed a dozen
famishing families.”

“I shall not dispute the matter, Judge Temple; 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 settling sun had
disappeared, and a new moon had begun to throw its shadows on the earth,
the fisher-men 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 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
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. 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 village.

“See!” said young Edwards, “they are building their fire already; it
glimmers for a moment, and dies again like the light of a firefly.”

“Now it blazes,” cried Elizabeth; “you can perceive 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 fades again, like most of his brilliant
schemes.”

“Thou hast guessed the truth, Bess,” said her father; “he has thrown an
armful 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 throw s 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 miraculous draught. By the time they
reached the bank, which rose above the low point where the fishermen had
landed, the moon had sunk behind the top of the western pines, and, as
most of the stars were obscured by clouds, there was but little other
light than that which proceeded from the fire. 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, 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 akimbo, so near to the flame that the
smoke occasionally obscured his solemn visage, as it waved around the
pile in obedience to the night airs that swept gently over 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,
salmon-trouts, and suckers, is no bad fishing, let me tell you. There
may he 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 a 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, everybody that has followed the seas, whales and
grampuses are to be seen, that are as long as one of the pine-trees on
yonder mountain?”

“Softly, softly, Benjamin,” said the sheriff, as if he wished to save
the credit of his favorite; “why, some of the pines will measure 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? I have said that you fall in with whales as long as one
of them there pines: and what I have once said I’ll stand to!”

During this dialogue, which was evidently but the close of 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 splinters of the chips
near him, and occasionally shaking his head with distrust of Benjamin’s
assertions.

“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; I have chopped many
a one that was sixty times the length of my helve, without counting
the eye; and I believe, Benny, that if the old pine that stands in the
hollow of the Vision Mountain just over the village--you may see the
tree itself by looking up, for the moon is on its top yet--well, now I
believe, 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 did’ee ever fall in with a regular built vessel, with
starn-post and cutwater, gar board-streak and plank-shear, gangways,
and hatchways, and waterways, quarter-deck, and forecastle, ay, and
flush-deck?--tell me that, man, if you can; where away did’ee ever fall
in with a full-rigged, regular-built, necked vessel?”

The whole company were a good deal astounded with this overwhelming
question, and even Richard afterward 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 is no wonder that they overcame 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
risen 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 in one of them, and you was in
that Board-dish that you talk so much about, and we’d soon see what good
Yankee stuff is made on, and whether a Varmounter’s hide ain’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 background of the view, with the net
carefully disposed on a little platform in its stern, ready for 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 of the 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, there lay a boundary of impenetrable gloom. 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 the 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 and dense, on the bosom of
the water, rendering the darkness in that direction trebly deep.

Benjamin Pump was invariably the coxswain 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 oars. The remainder of the assistants were
stationed at the drag-ropes. 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 soon disappeared in the
darkness, when the ear was her only guide to its evolutions. There was
great affectation of stillness during all these manoeuvers, 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 indicative
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; 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 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 the shore. Several eager hands were extended to receive the
line, and, both ropes being equally well manned, the fishermen commenced
hauling in with slow, and steady drags, Richard standing to the centre,
giving orders, first to one party, and then to the other, to increase
or slacken their efforts, as occasion required. The visitors 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 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 the 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 far 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 in the water, at an angle of forty-five degrees,
inclining southward, 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 ‘staffs,’” 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-hay, 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 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 for the labor.” Fishes of
various sorts were now to be seen, entangled in the meshes of the net,
as it was passed through the hands of the laborers; and the water, at
a little distance from the shore, was alive with the 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: “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 bullpout from
the meshes, and casting the animal back into the lake with contempt.
“Pull, boys, pull; here’s all kinds, and the Lord condemn me for a liar,
if there ain’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 into the water,
and began 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 was safely deposited in a hollow of the
bank, where they were left to flutter away their brief existence in the
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 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 flavor 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.”

  * Of all the fish the writer has ever tasted, he thinks the one in
    question the best.

“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 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 some thing
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 the
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 tomorrow. 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, 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 estate united.”

Marmaduke laughed at the 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 be fore them. As the labor 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.



CHAPTER XXIV.


     “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 the spoil, Elizabeth and her friend strolled
a short distance from the group, along the shore of the lake. After
reaching a point to which even the brightest of the occasional gleams
of the fire did not extend, they 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 envelop the rest
of the creation.

“This is indeed a subject for the pencil!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “Observe
the countenance of that woodchopper, while he exults in presenting a
larger fish than common to my cousin sheriff; and see, Louisa, how hand
some and considerate my dear father looks, by the light of that fire,
where he stands viewing the havoc of the game. He seems 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 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 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. Edwards’ 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, and they continued
to stroll still farther from the party, retaining each other’s arm,
but observing a pro found silence. Elizabeth, perhaps conscious of the
improper phraseology of her last speech, or perhaps excited by the new
object that met her gaze, was the first to break the awkward cessation
in the discourse, by exclaiming:

“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 Leather-Stocking!”

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 existence. They observed it to move, and sensibly to lower, as it
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 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 low voice, stealing a timid glance toward 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; “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 to this country!”

“It is certainly not 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 his
place.” Elizabeth paused, and smiled, with an expression of peculiar
arch ness, 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.

“It appears to be supernatural!” whispered Louisa, beginning to retrace
her steps toward 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 imbedded 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
background 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 the grace of an
experienced boatman, 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 exertion. The Leather-Stocking struck his
spear lightly against the short staff which up held, 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 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 own progress. 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 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 ascending 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 creatur’; but I wouldn’t be helping
to such a sinful kind of fishing for the best rifle that was ever
brought out from the old countries. If they had fur, like the beaver, or
you could tan their hides, like a buck, something might be said in favor
of taking them by the thousand 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; for once, old hunter, we agree in opinion; 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 creatur’ 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 vacillating ideas of justice required, gave
vent to his spleen.

“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 the game of the county! But, ‘Duke,
when I fish I fish; 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 was a
different motive that led the youth thither. Elizabeth examined the
light ashen 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 are used to the paddle,
and are good hands in a boat of this natur’, If the young lady would
like to see an old man strike a trout for his breakfast, she is welcome
to a seat. John will say the same, seeing that he built the canoe, which
was only launched yesterday; for I’m not over-curious at such small work
as brooms, and basket-making, and other like Indian trades.”

Natty gave Elizabeth one of his significant laughs, with a kind nod of
the head, when he concluded his 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, granddaughter 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.”

“Mr. Edwards,” said Elizabeth, blushing slightly, “your friend Mohegan
has given a promise for you. Do you redeem the pledge?”

“With my life, if necessary, Miss Temple,” cried the youth, with fervor.
“The sight is worth some little apprehension; for of real danger
there is none, I will go with you and Miss Grand, 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
Leather-Stocking wished to go, and a profound silence was preserved by
the whole party, as the precaution necessary to the success of their
fishery. At that point of the lake 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 interlocked with
the pines; while here a scanty growth of rushes lifted their tops above
the lake, gently curling the waters, as their bending heads 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 laid bare the mysteries of the lake, as plainly as if the limpid
sheet of the Otsego was but another atmosphere. Every instant she
expected to see the impending spear of Leather-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 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 farther
than those who 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 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 seldom one finds such a creatur’ in shallow water,
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 nearly twenty feet
in depth. A few additional knots were laid on the grating, and the light
penetrated to the bottom, Elizabeth then saw a fish of unusual size
floating above small pieces of logs and sticks. 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 a horizontal line, and then dropping them again
into a horizontal position.

“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 curiosity;
“‘tis a skeary animal, and it’s a far stroke for a spear. My handle is
hut fourteen foot, and the creator’ lies 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 of 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 snot again into
the air by its own reaction, 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; “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 bot tom of the lake, be 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 it the folds of the net.

“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 oil, Master Bumppo, haul off, I say, and
give a wide berth 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 air. There appeared to be much ill-humor among the
party in the batteau, for the directions of Benjamin were not only
frequent, but issued in a voice that partook largely of dissatisfaction.

“Pull larboard oar, will ye, Master Kirby?” cried the old seaman; “pull
larboard best. It would puzzle the oldest admiral in their British
fleet to cast this here net fair, with a wake like a corkscrew. Full
starboard, boy, pull starboard oar, with a will.”

“Harkee, Mister Pump,” said Kirby, ceasing to row, and speaking with
sonic 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 light from the canoe, and exhibiting every feature
teeming with the expression of disgust. “If you want to come aft and con
the boat round, come and be damned, and pretty steerage you’ll make of
it. 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 horse-marine as
yourself, why, rate me a ship’s jackass, that’s all.”

Probably encouraged by the prospect of a speedy termination to his
labor, the wood-chopper resumed his oar, and, under strong excitement,
gave a stroke that not only cleared the boat of the net but of the
steward at the same instant. Benjamin had stood on the little platform
that held the seine, in the stern of the boat, and the violent whirl
occasioned by the vigor 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 ran 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, began 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, “the light will show us where
he lies, and I will 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.

“Steady the boat while I dive,” again cried Edwards.

“Gently, lad, gently,” said Natty; “I’ll spear the creatur’ up in half
the time, and no risk to anybody.”

The form of Benjamin was lying about half-way to the bottom, grasping
with both hands some broken rushes. 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 colored with hues like death.

At the same instant, she saw the shining tines of Natty’s spear
approaching the head of the sufferer, and entwinning themselves, rapidly
and dexterously, in the hairs of his cue 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 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 into
the boat, and for the whole party to regain the shore, required but a
minute. Kirby, aided by Richard, whose anxiety induced him to run into
the water to meet his favorite assistant, carried the motionless steward
up the bank, and seated him before the fire, 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, and be 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 his hand, that I may pat it.”

All this time Benjamin sat, with his muscles fixed, his mouth shut, and
his hands clinching the rushes which he had seized in the confusion of
the moment and which, as he held fast, like a true seaman, 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 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 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’yesee,
squire, I kept my hatches chose, and it’s 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 favor,
and that is, that you’re the awk’ardest green ‘un that ever straddled a
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 served me a good
turn, and you may set me down for a friend; thof it would have been more
ship shape like to lower the bight of a rope or running bowline 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 action of matters with
a dignity and discretion that at once silenced all opposition from his
cousin, Benjamin was dispatched 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 hack to the game, who named the owner of each
pile. Bill Kirby stretched his large frame on the grass by the side
of the fire, as sentinel until morning, over net and 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 in the
air, and then all remained dark as the conjunction of night, forest, and
mountain could render the scene.

The thoughts of Elizabeth 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 by common
impulse.



CHAPTER XXV.


     “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 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 horse,” 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? Ain’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 to assume the functions that rightly belonged to
Dr. Todd; “but ill at heart. I received letters by the post 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 it contained. On the bed there was the
impression that had been made by a human form, but the coverings were
unmoved, and everything indicated that the occupant of the room had
passed a sleepless night. The candles had burned 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
astonishment. At length Richard found time to cast his eyes on the
direction of the letter, which he still held unopened, crumpling it in
his hand.

“What! a ship-letter!” he exclaimed; “and from England, ha! ‘Duke, there
must be news of importance! indeed!”

“Read it,” said Marmaduke, 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 12, 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 favors 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 kind of humming noise by the
sheriff--” ‘I grieve to say that ‘--hum, hum, bad enough to be sure--’
but trusts 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 anything 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 wings to the house, to the devil. I had
made 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 sister’s 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 the ride, and,
repairing to the breakfast parlor, he dispatched 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 yet 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 in the character of this 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 the merit in this world is comparative; and, once for
all, we desire to say that, where anything which involves qualities
or characters 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 affected 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
Elizabeth, and suffusing her bright eyes with a softness that did not
always belong to their 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
needlework, with a quick ness 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,” returned Elizabeth, “and it may be
necessary that my father should leave home for a short period; unless
I can persuade him to trust my cousin Richard with the business, whose
absence from the country, 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 some times escape him in the moments of
their frank communications. “Have I lived five months under your roof to
be 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
color 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 curiosity; “how
much Have I been so long an inmate with you and not known?”

The head of Elizabeth turned slowly from its affected position, and the
look of confusion that had blended so strongly with an expression of
interest changed to a smile.

“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 thc eyes, and trembling like
an aspen; “you misunderstood me, dear Miss Temple; I--I--it was only a
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 labors of her father,
she continued:

“Nay, Louisa, 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 honors 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 with the
old warrior; but not even a smile at the simplicity of their companion
was indulged in 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 of the soil!” cried
Elizabeth, who evidently put little faith in his aboriginal descent.

“Do I bear the marks of my lineage so very plainly impressed on my
appearance? I am dark, but not very red--not more so than common?”

“Rather more so, just now.”

“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 de scent 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 own 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
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, like a silly girl, who dreams of
nothing else from morn till night; but I am a nun here, without the vow
of celibacy. Where shall 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 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 young man had
passed, then glanced quickly toward 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 slow comprehension,
who had imbibed a wariness in his speeches and actions, from having
suffered 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 long search 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 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 always be 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, as such, 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 ten der 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 honor. 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. He
saw 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 endeavoring to avoid anything like an approach to
a cross-examination. They parted at the gate, the lawyer walking with
an important and hurried air toward his office, keeping his right hand
firmly clinched on the bundle of papers.

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
endeavored to forget his curiosity in the usual avocations of his
office.

When the Judge made his reappearance 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 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 hidden beneath the wheat that
was waving with every breath of the sum mer air, shining and changing
its hues like velvet.

During the continuance of his cousin’s dejection, Mr. Jones forebore,
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.



CHAPTER XXVI.


     “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 and proceeded 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
hands, dangling by one of its ribbons, the gypsy that was to conceal
the glossy locks that curled around her polished fore head 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
tine polish of that brow, under this sun and southern breeze, unless
thou guard it with unusual care.”

“I shall then do more honor to my connections,” 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.”

“Grandchildren, 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 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 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
females, who were already moving toward the street, and was about to
address them, as Louisa paused, and said quickly:

“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
he had approached them,

“Your father is not pleased that you should walk unattended in the
hills, Miss Temple. If I might offer my self 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; I should have said uneasy or
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; but where there is no danger, no protection
is required. We are not yet reduced to wandering among these free hills
accompanied by a body guard. If such a one is necessary there he is,
however.--Here, Brave--Brave----my noble Brave!” The huge mastif
that has been already mentioned, appeared from his kennel, gaping and
stretching himself with pampered laziness; but as his mistress again
called:

“Come, dear Brave; once you have 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 favorite perch
for the dinner-table.”

When they again began 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 toward
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 in to
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 rang 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 buckskin 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 sound of his
voice.

Edwards pulled the bows of the boat on the shore, 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, satisfied that none but the privileged had
approached the forbidden ground.

A quarter of an hour elapsed before the youth reappeared, 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 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, old veteran of the woods?” cried Edwards. “If a beast, it is a
bold one; and if a man, an impudent.”

He sprang 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 unusual rapidity for the architect, amid the bushes.

“What can that fellow be wanting here?” muttered Oliver. “He has no
business in this quarter, unless it be 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 placing a 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
fishing-ground for 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 to
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-colored 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, in a very few minutes, to the place where his
friends were fishing, and fastened his boat to the light vessel of the
Indian.

The old men received Oliver with welcoming nods, 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,
with out speaking.

“Did you stop at the wigwam, lad, as you rowed past?” 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 the
woods. 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 favor 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 Solo mon.
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; “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 harbors too much about the cabin, lad, I’ll shoot the creatur’,”
 said the Leather-Stocking, quite simply.

“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, toward 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 stanch, 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. 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 years,” said
Leather--Stocking, “and I will say that for it, which is, that a cleaner
spring or 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
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 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 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 knowed
nothing of scholarship, and had a white skin. But it was a comfortable
hunting-ground then, lad, and would have been so this day, but for the
money of Marmaduke Temple, and the twisty ways of the law.”

“It must have been a sight of melancholy pleasure in deed,” said
Edwards, while his eye roved along the shores and over the hills, where
the clearings, groaning with the golden corn, were cheering the forest
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 humor.”

“Haven’t I said it was cheerful?” said Leather-Stocking. “Yes, yes, when
the trees began to be covered with leaves, and the ice was out of
the hake, it was a second paradise. I have travelled the woods for
fifty-three years, 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 Catskills. I used often to go up into the
mountains after wolves’ skins and bears; once they paid 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 Catskills, 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
over the head of an Indian chief at the 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 burned ‘Sopus in the last war; and I saw 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 farther from me
than the other. The river was in sight for seventy miles, looking like
a curled shaving under my feet, though it was eight long miles to its
banks. I saw the hills in the Hampshire grants, the highlands of the
river, and all that God had done, or man could do, 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
houses your feet, with rivers looking like ribbons, and mountains bigger
than the ‘Vision seeming to be hay-stacks of green grass under you,
gives any satisfaction to a man, I can recommend the spot. When I first
came into the woods to live, I used to have weak spells when I felt
lonesome: and then I would go into the Catskills, 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 am getting too old for 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 mountains: for it was more covered with
the trees, and natural.”

“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 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 like a creatur’ 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 flat rock 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; 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 anything about the wonders
of the woods? No, no, lad; there has that little stream of water been
playing among the 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 the 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 go 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 ten thousand
rainbows, by no hand of man, though without the ordering of God’s
providence.”

“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 the water, he sat
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 buckskin, 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 an arm raised to a level with his
face, holding the forefinger elevated as a signal for attention, and
laughed aloud at what he deemed to be 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 own 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 confused
echoes that rang among the rocks that the dogs were passing, and then
directly to a deep and hollow baying that pealed under the forest under
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 dogwood caught
his attention, at a spot near them and at the next moment a noble buck
sprang on the shore, and buried himself in the lake. A full-mouthed
cry followed, when Hector and the slut shot through the opening in the
bushes, and darted into the lake also, bearing their breasts gallantly
against the water.



CHAPTER XXVII.


     “Oft in the full descending flood he tries
     To lose the scent, and lave his burning sides.”
      --Thomson.

“I knowed it--I knowed 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
hackle your hide with my ramrod when I get ye.”

The dogs 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 cries.

In the mean time the deer, urged by his fears, had swum 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 second time, 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, the Leather-Stocking began to sit very uneasy in his canoe.

“‘Tis a noble creatur’!” he exclaimed; “what a pair of horns! a man
might hang up all his garments on the branches. Let 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, and cried; “Strike out,
John! let her go. The creatur’s a fool to tempt a man in this way.”

Mohegan threw the fastening of the youth’s boat from 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 deer out of season.”

The remonstrance came too late; the canoe was already far from the
skiff, and the two hunters were too much engaged in the pursuit to
listen to his voice.

The buck was now within fifty yards of his pursuers, cutting the water
gallantly, and snorting at each breath with 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 raised his
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
natur’, 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 skill
than his strength. Both of the old men now used the language of the
Delawares when they spoke.

“Hugh!” 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 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 front 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 reappeared, shooting up from the lake, and, as the hunter
seized it in his hand, the Indian whirled the light canoe round, 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 the place
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 still 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, and the sluggish repose in which his aged frame had been
resting in the canoe was now changed to all the rapid inflections of
practiced 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 of a straight course the little bark skimmed the
lake with a velocity that urged the deer to seek its safety in some new
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 pursuer
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 the 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
toward 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, dyeing
the waters. 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 his
prize, and then, raising his head, he laughed in his peculiar manner.

“So much for Marmaduke Temple’s law!” he said, “This warms a body’s
blood, old John: I haven’t killed a buck in the lake afore this, sin’
many a year. I call that good venison, lad: and I know them that will
relish the creatur’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 caused
a gleam of sunshine to cross his swarthy face that had long been absent
from his features. It was evident 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 reaction 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 hunt.”

“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 buckskin 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!”

“Ay! he durst do anything when there is no danger,” said Natty; “he is
a curious body, and loves to be helping other people on with their
consarns. But he had best not harbor 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--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 was
smooth; the handle was long, for a man’s arm would not reach from this
gash to the 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 the carpenter;
and he has got on the rock back of the kennel and let the dogs loose by
fastening his knife to a stick. It would be an easy matter to do it
where 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 the place? and maybe he is troubled with his longings after other
people’s business, as he often is.”

“Your suspicions are just. 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 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 gilding 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, bade them keep close, and, shouldering his rifle, he ascended the
mountain, with an intention of going to the hut by land.



CHAPTER XXVIII.


     “Ask me not what the maiden feels,
     Left in that dreadful hour alone:
     Perchance, her reason stoops, or reel!
     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 on the mountain. Male attendants on such excursions
were thought to be altogether unnecessary, for none were even known to
offer insult to a female who respected herself. After the embarrassment
created by the parting discourse with Edwards had dissipated, the
girls maintained a conversation that was as innocent and cheerful as
themselves.

The path they took led them but a short distance above the hut of
Leather-Stocking, and there was a point in the road which commanded a
bird’s-eye view of the sequestered spot.

From a feeling that might have been, natural, and must have been
powerful, neither of the friends, 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
prudent to make any inquiries on the subject, he had also thought it
proper to keep the answers to him self; 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 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, at least, tell who he is.”

“Why, dear Miss Temple, we know all that already. I have heard it all
very rationally explained by your cousin--”

“The executive chief! he can explain anything. His ingenuity will one
day discover the philosopher’s stone. But what did he say?”

“Say!” echoed Louisa, with a look of surprise; “why, everything that
seemed to me to be satisfactory, and I now 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 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 I assure you he said so.”

“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 your father--or mine--or even himself.”

“Quite a climax in learning’. And so he made Mohegan the granduncle 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 everything; 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 who may choose to lift its latch?”

“I have never heard him say anything 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, I trust, Louisa; at least I should hope that, in this land
of abundance, no minister of the church could be left in 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 domes tic 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! 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, when the latter 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 the 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, 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 color 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 to leap.

“Let us fly,” exclaimed Elizabeth, grasping the arm of Louisa, whose
form yielded like melting snow.

There was not a single feeling in the temperament of Elizabeth Temple
that could prompt her to desert a companion in such an extremity. She
fell on her knees by the side of the inanimate Louisa, tearing from
the person of her friend, with 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 vicious 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 the antics of a cat; and then, by lashing
itself with its tail, growling, and scratching the earth, it would at
tempt 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, over-leaping 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 sent it 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 dry
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 jaws distended, and a
dauntless eye. But age, and his pampered life, greatly disqualified the
noble mastiff for such a struggle. In everything 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 favorable 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 his neck, which had been glittering throughout the fray, was
of the color 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 inches from her 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 behind seemed rather to mock the organs than to meet
her ears.

“Hist! hist!” said a low voice, “stoop lower, gal; your bonnet hides the
creatur’s head.”

It was rather the yielding of nature than a compliance with this
unexpected order, that caused the 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, old fool; ‘tis a hard-lived animal, and may
jump agin.”

Natty fearlessly maintained his position in front of the females,
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 it had been, the more her nature had struggled to overcome
them. But still she was a 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 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. Come, come--let us get into
the road, for you’ve had terror enough to make you wish yourself in your
father’s house agin.”

This was uttered as they were proceeding, at a pace that was adapted to
the weakness of Louisa, toward the highway; on reaching which the ladies
separated from their guide, declaring themselves equal to the remainder
of the 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 the side 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 hidden 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 creatur’s,” said Natty, while
he retrod the path toward the plain. “It might frighten an older woman,
to see a she-painter so near her, with a dead cub 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 the 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 venison. 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 man who 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
anything 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 heard 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 believe--yes, I guess it’s
half. But there’s blood on your sleeve, man--you haven’t been shooting
anything this morning?”

“I have, though,” said the hunter, nodding his head significantly to the
other, “and a good shot I made of it.”

“H-e-m!” ejaculated the magistrate; “and where is the game? I s’pose it’s
of a good natur’, for your dogs won’t hunt anything that isn’t choice.”

“They’ll hunt anything I tell them to, squire,” cried Natty, favoring
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 have always heard 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 been walking at a very fast gait,
and Natty swung the end of his rifle round, pointing through the bushes,
and replied: “There lies one. How do you like such meat?”

“This!” exclaimed Hiram; “why, this is Judge Temple’s dog Brave. Take
care, Leather-Stocking, and don’t make an enemy 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 buckskin; “does his throat look as if I had cut it with this
knife?”

“It is dreadfully torn! it’s an awful wound--no knife ever did this
deed. Who could have done it?”

“The painters behind you, squire.”

“Painters!” echoed Hiram, whirling on his heel with an agility that
would have done credit to a dancing’ master.

“Be easy, man,” said Natty; “there’s two of the venomous things; but the
dog finished one, and I have fastened the other’s jaws for her; so don’t
be frightened, 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 venison 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 agin’ killing the painters.”

“No! there’s a bounty on the scalps--but--will your dogs hunt painters,
Natty?”

“Anything; didn’t I tell you they would hunt a man? He-e-re, he-e-re,
pups--”

“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
practiced hand around the ears, which he tore from the head of the beast
in such a manner as to preserve their connection, when he answered;

“What at, squire? did you never see a painter’s scalp afore? Come, you
are 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
sup pose you have a Bible? All the law wants is the four evangelists and
the Lord’s prayer.”

“I keep no books,” said Natty, a little coldly; “not such a Bible as the
law needs.”

“Oh! there’s but one sort of Bible that’s good in law,” returned
the magistrate, “and your’n 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 have seen me scalp the creatur’s, 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 scholars’ tools? I want no pens or
paper, not knowing the use of either; and 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 law-books, 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 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; but this I tell
you to your face, that you never shall put foot under the roof of my
cabin with my consent, and that, if you harbor round the spot as you
have done lately, you may meet with treatment that you will little
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, snap ping his fingers at
the justice of the peace; “away with you, you varmint, before the devil
tempts me to give you your desarts. Take care, if I ever catch your
prowling face in the woods agin, 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 as the grave. He fastened his dogs, and
tapping at the door, which was opened by Edwards, asked;

“Is all safe, lad?”

“Everything,” returned the youth. “Some one attempted the lock, but it
was too strong for him.”

“I know the creatur’,” said Natty, “but he’ll not trust himself within
the reach of my rifle very soon----” What more was uttered by the
Leather-Stocking, in his vexation, was rendered inaudible by the closing
of the door of the cabin.



CHAPTER XXIX.


     “It is noised, he hath 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 feelings 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 affection
was slowly chased from the handsome features of the Judge, and was
gradually supplanted by the cast of humor 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 rang far in the forest, and keeping
his eyes fixed on objects before him like a man who is looking deep into
futurity:

“There has always been one point of difference between us, Judge Temple,
I may say, since our nativity,” he replied; “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?”

“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 anything and
everything.”

“Like yourself, I suppose,” said Marmaduke, smiling.

“I scorn personalities, sir, 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. Who are these triumviri?”

“Why, sir, one is Hiram Doolittle; 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.”

“Well, he is one,” said Marmaduke, with the air of a man that was
determined not to dispute the point.

“Jotham Riddel is another.”

“Who?”

“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 school master to-morrow! 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 the third.”

“As the third is not used to hearing such comments on his character,
Judge Temple, I shall not name him.”

“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, say
nothing egotistical. 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
humor thereby, when he gratified his patient cousin with the following
explanation:

“You know, ‘Duke, 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--the hue and cry. 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 anything of this mystery, or are they
only the crude conjectures of--”

“Crude nothing, ‘Duke, crude nothing: but facts, stub-born 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 rumors
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,” 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 development, proceeded:

“Yes, sir, I have my reasons, and at a proper time you shall know them.”

“No time is so good as the present.”

“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 anybody’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 call this a fact of importance?”

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 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, although he
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 more certain; and that he has not allowed a
soul to approach his hut since is most certain of all.”

“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 spend whole days in the mountains, pretending to be shooting, but
in reality exploring; the frosts prevent their digging at that time,
and he avails 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 every
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 arrival with 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 gentle man, in which we have found Jotham useful.”
 Marmaduke did not much like the associates of Richard in this business;
still he knew them to be cunning and ready expedients; and as there was
certainly something mysterious, not only in the connection 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 favored 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 his
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 him each 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 he 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.

“Bess hints that he was reduced even 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 travelling here?”

“Jotham, who has been much in the mountain latterly, 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. I call this a countermine, ha!”

“And where is the desirable spot?” asked the Judge with an air half
comical, half serious.

“At hand; and when we have visited that, I will show you one of the
places that we have found within a week, where our 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 the 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 back of 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 eye; 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 a finger on his lip, and leading the way
down a very difficult descent to a sort of natural cavern, which was
found in the face of the rock, and was not unlike a fireplace 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-colored 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 laborers. The mountain fell off precipitously 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 asked solemnly:

“Judge Temple, are you satisfied?”

“Perfectly, that there is something mysterious and 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 thc 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
toward 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 his 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 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, 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 emotion; and
when the image of Natty again crossed his recollection, it was not as a
law Less and depredating squatter, but as the preserver of his child.



CHAPTER XXX.


     “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 contemplation of the ease and comforts of her situation, and who
still retained her station in the family of judge Temple, was dispatched
to the humble dwelling which Richard already 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. When the curtain rises on the reader, the Judge is
seen walking up and down the apartment, with a tender melancholy in his
air, 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 anything, 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 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 for the matter of a glass;
and he has summat 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 sheering nearer, every stretch he made toward the house, I
could do no better than to let your honor know that the chap was in the
offing.”

“He must have business of importance,” said Marmaduke: “something in
relation to his office, most probably, as the court sits so shortly.”

“Ay, ay, you have it, sir,” cried Benjamin; “it’s summat 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; 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 of demeanor that was in tended to do honor to
his official station. At length he said:

“It’s likely, from what I hear, that Miss Temple had a 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 to see that he is rewarded,” returned the Judge.

“Yes, yes, I rather guess that nobody hereabouts doubts the Judge’s
generosity. Does 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 agreed 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 agreed 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 act, I think it likely that they’ll be indicted, in which
case it’s probable they’ll be tried.”

“Certainly, sir; I had forgotten those men. There are no more, I hope.”
 “Why, there is a threaten to come forward with 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 heard. 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,” said 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 came 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
search-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 immovable 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 search should come from himself. Besides, as I’m much in the woods,
among the timber, I don’t altogether like making an enemy of the Leather
Stocking. Now, the Judge has a weight in the county that puts him above
fear.”

Miss Temple turned her face to the callous Architect as she said’ “And
what has any honest person to dread from so kind a man as 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 issue 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 on her mouth, and
saying:

“It is more terrible 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 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 feeling.
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 the 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 to admit 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 sprang 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 demeanor 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, and were sad by turns, as impulse directed.

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 favor 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 a
leg. Hiram intended to accompany the officer as a spectator, but he 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
toward 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 time 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 directed to 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 issued a
search-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 has gone out of the way?”

“Not to be found.”

“And his deputy too?”

“Both gone on the skirts of the Patent.”

“But I saw 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
country at rough and tumble.”

“I heard 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’s knuckles on his backbone-But who is the chap?”

“Why,” said Jotham, “it’s--”

“It’s agin’ 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
special 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--“does 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 unnecessary delay. So soon as this
preliminary was completed, the three worthies left the house, and
proceeded by the nearest road toward 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 privilege 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 search 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 Templeton.”

“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 creatur’
between my finger and thumb, and tie him in a bow-knot around my neck
for a Barcelony. The man is seventy, and was never anything particular
for strength.”

“He’s a deceiving man,” said Hiram, “like all 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’s a harmless creatur’, and I must say that I think he
has as good 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, “anybody may shoot a deer.”

“This is the man’s calling, I tell you,” returned Kirby, “and the law was
never made for such as he.”

“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 woodchopper; “I don’t
care 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-frise, to defend the approach
to the fortress, on the side next the village. The delay was 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
same instant, the scantily-covered head of Natty from the door.

“Lie down, 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 visitor.
“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
undertone, 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 seated himself 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 are 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, endeavoring 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, and I partly 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
visitors, from the beginning, and had maintained his position, just
without the threshold of the cabin, with a determined manner, that
showed he was not to be easily driven from his post. When Hiram drew
nigher, as if expecting 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 virtue of this war rant, and of my office, and with this peace
officer.”

“Stand back, stand back, squire, and don’t tempt me,” said the
Leather-Stocking, motioning him to retire, with great earnestness.

“Stop us at your peril,” continued Hiram. “Billy! Jotham! close up--I
want 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
toward 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
peals of laughter, that he seemed to heave up from his very soul.

“Well done, old stub!” he shouted; “the squire knowed 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 toward 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 your’n both shall turn this green
grass red, afore you put foot into the hut.”

While the affair appeared trifling, the wood-chopper seemed disposed
to take sides with the weaker party; but, when the firearms 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 value
the hollow piece of iron in your hand so much as a broken axe-helve; so,
squire, say the word, and keep within the law, and we’ll soon see who’s
the best main 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 toward 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 scared the creatur’s off,” said Kirby, with great contempt
expressed on his broad features; “but you are not going to scare me; so,
Mr. Bumppo, down with your gun, or there’ll 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. I won’t deny the buck
to you, Billy, and you may take the skin in, if you please, and show it
as testimony. 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 the hut, and soon reappeared, 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,
and of Natty’s disrespect of 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 Saturday night--a time kept sacred by large
portion of the settlers. Accordingly, all further proceedings were
suspended for six-and-thirty hours.



CHAPTER XXXI.


     “And dar’st thou then
     To beard the lion in his den,
     The Douglas in his hall.”
      --Marmion.

The commotion was just subsiding, and the inhabitants of the village had
begun to disperse from the little groups that 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
temperature?”

“I am a native of this State,” returned Edwards, coldly.

“Well. I’ve often heard 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 heard!” exclaimed the other, with a look of surprise, so
naturally assumed as completely to deceive his auditor; “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
color that collected in his sunburnt cheek. “Well, if that be all, he
must even pay the fine.”

“It’s five pound 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, be fore that old man should lie one hour in a jail, 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 won upon the youth, little as he liked the man. “It seems that
a complaint was made of the fact, and a suspicion that there was venison
in the hut was sworn to, all which is provided for in the statute, when
Judge Temple granted the 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 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 is 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 can
get the matter fairly settled. Assaulting a magistrate in the execution
of his duty, and menacing a constable with firearms 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 jury is 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 began to see the real difficulties of the case,
he listened more readily to the conversation of the lawyer. The
ungovernable emotion that escaped the youth, in the first moments 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 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 that neither suited his
disposition nor his necessities. After, however, giving Mr. Lippet to
under stand 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 toward the mansion-house. We shall take leave of the attorney
for the present, and direct the attention of the reader to the 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 stepped into his office, with that master carpenter,
Mister Doolittle; but Miss Lizzy is in that there parlor. 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 is 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 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. 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 firearms 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 parlor.

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 color, veiled her eyes; and the maiden was sitting as if
in deep communion 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 for an interview, if it be only for a moment.”

Elizabeth raised her face, and exhibited her dark eyes swimming in
moisture.

“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 Louisa?”

“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. Miss Temple, 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 now become 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 his
companion. “I can, and may Heaven reward you for the wish, Natty has
been so imprudent as to for get 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; “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 one who would permit the man that has just
saved her life to linger in a jail 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 under stood, and no harm shall follow.”

“What a load of apprehension do your declarations remove!” exclaimed
Edwards: “He shall not be disturbed again! your father will protect him!
I have 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,
and his manner disturbed. Neither Elizabeth nor the youth spoke; 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 head, and it is now 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 rigor.”

“And what must the punishment be, sir?” asked Ed wards, struggling to
speak with firmness.

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 this
charge?”

“Ought they? They may extenuate, but can they ac quit? Would any society
be tolerable, young man, where the ministers of justice are to be
opposed by men armed with rifles? Is it for this that I have tamed the
wilder ness?”

“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 the 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 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,
his 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, at least, 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 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 form was nowhere to be seen. He
paused a moment, in stupor, and then, rushing from the house, instead
of following Marmaduke in his “office,” he took his way directly for the
cabin of the hunters.



CHAPTER XXXII.


     “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 afterward 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 mansion-house they
separated, Mr. Jones directing his assist ants to proceed with their
charge to the county jail, while he pursued his own way up the gravel
walk, with the 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! Everybody 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
to 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 starlight, 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! neber tink he die! Oh, Lor-a-gor! ain’t 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 tremor in
his voice; “nothing serious? Nothing has happened to Benjamin, I hope? I
know he has been bilious, but I gave him--”

“Oh, worser ‘an dat! worser ‘an dat!” sobbed the negro. “Oh! de Lor!
Miss ‘Lizzy an’ Miss Grant--walk--mountain--poor Bravy ‘--kill a
lady--painter---Oh, Lor, Lor!--Natty Bumppo--tare he troat open--come a
see, masser Richard--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 berth.”

“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, he had 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, etc.; 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 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 forefinger, 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,
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, seating himself down comfort ably in his chair,
“you’d the wind southeast, 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 country
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--”

“Don’t see!” interrupted the steward, a little crustily; “ain’t there a
mark agin’ east-and-by-nothe-half-nothe, with summat 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 call 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, summat 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.”

“Benjamin, this is as long as a Presbyterian; you never could have been
ten minutes in turning the glass!”

“Why, do you 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’d
put in the dead-lights to make all snug, and when I opened them agin I
found the congregation were getting under way for home, so I calculated
the ten minutes would cover the leeway 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, dye 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 again to-night, and paid for the three at once, your honor may as
well run the sponge over the whole business.”

“I will buy you a slate for your own affairs, Benjamin,” said the
sheriff; “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 her 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 large, honest
notches were apparent. The sheriff cast his eyes on this new ledger for
a moment, and continued:

“What have we here! Saturday, two P.M.--Why here’s a whole family piece!
two wine-glasses upside-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; “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 immovable steward. “This here thingumy, squire, that
maybe looks summat 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 image 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 is 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. Howsomever, 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 a small 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?”

“He has.”

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 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 akimbo, 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 that he should find most,
if not all of them, in the public room of the jail, discussing the
qualities of the keeper’s liquors. Accordingly he held his way through
the silent streets of the village, directly to the small and insecure
building that contained all the unfortunate debt ors 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 neighbors. 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 jail, he found every indication that
his subordinates in tended 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, toward 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 ran 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 forest itself. Here Richard
paused and collected his troop around him.

“I have required your assistance, my friends,” he cried, 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-war rant, 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
misdemeanors and offences against private rights; and I have this night
taken on myself, by the virtue of my office as sheriff, to arrest the
said Bumppo, and bring him to the county jail, that he may be present
and forthcoming to answer to these heavy charges before the court
to-morrow morning. In executing this duty, friends and fellow-citizens,
you are to use courage and discretion; courage, that you may not be
daunted by any lawless attempt 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 go in order; but all
devising the best plan to repulse the attack of a dog, or to 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 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 amazement, in place of the hut he saw only its
smouldering ruins.

The party gradually drew together about the heap of ashes and the 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 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 fullness of their surprise, when a tall
form stalked from the gloom into the circle, treading down the hot ashes
and 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 with an old and helpless man?” he said, “You’ve driven
God’s creatur’s from the wilder ness, where His providence had put them
for His own pleasure; and you’ve brought in the troubles and diviltries
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, lest 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 toward
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 incited
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 too 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 receded
from the pile with an 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 fruit less. 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 began to rally his confused faculties,
and, advancing, apologized for his duty, and made him his prisoner. The
party flow collected, and, preceded by the sheriff, with Natty in their
centre, they took their way toward 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 jail on the aged and apparently
friendless Leather-Stocking.



CHAPTER XXXIII.


     “Fetch here the stocks, ho!
     You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend bragget,
     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
woodpaths that, issuing from the forests, and winding among the sides of
the mountains, centred 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, rambling
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 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 change able habits, was wasted in feeding the harpies of the
courts. He was endeavoring to impress the mind of the grand juror with
the merits of a cause now at issue, Along with these 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,
on his way to hear and to decide the disputes of his neighbors, as a
petit juror. Fifty similar little knots of countrymen might have been
seen, on that morning, journeying toward the shire-town on the same
errand.

By ten o’clock the streets of the village were filled 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 scythes, axes, and such other
manufactures as attracted their curiosity or excited their admiration.
A few women were in the crowd, most carrying infants, and followed, at
a lounging, listless gait, by their rustic lords and masters. There was
one young couple, in whom connubial love was yet fresh, walking at a
respectful distance from each other; while the swain directed the timid
steps of his bride, by a gallant offering of a thumb.

At the first stroke of the bell, Richard issued from the door of the
“Bold Dragoon,” flourishing 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 epaulets, not half
so big as a modern pair of shoulder-knots. This gentleman was a colonel
of the militia, in attendance on a court-martial, who found leisure to
steal a moment from his military to attend to his civil jurisdiction;
but this incongruity excited neither notice nor comment. Three or four
clean-shaved lawyers followed, as meek as if they were lambs going to
the slaughter. One or two of their number 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 sitting.

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 the captives 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 debtors’ apartments only by the size of the
apertures, the thickness of the grates, and by the heads of the spikes
that were driven into the logs as a protection against the illegal use
of edge-tools. The upper story was of frame work, regularly covered with
boards, and contained one room decently fitted up for the purpose of
justice. A bench, raised on a narrow platform to the height of a man
above the floor, and protected in front by a light railing, ran along
one of its sides. 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 rows of seats,
rising one over the other, for jury-boxes. Each of these divisions was
surrounded by a railing. The remainder of the room was an open square,
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
dispatch on their part, recommending to their notice, from motives
of humanity, the prisoners in the jail 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 bench and the sheriff, who gave a signal to his officers,
and in a very few minutes the silence that prevailed 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 buckskin garments, without his coat, in place
of which he wore only a shirt of coarse linen-cheek, 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
everywhere looks fastened on himself. After surveying his own person, as
searching the cause of this unusual attraction, he once more turned his
face around the assemblage, and 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
toward the bench, he said:

“Anan!”

Mr. Lippet arose from his seat at the table, and whispered in the ear
of the prisoner; when Natty 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 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 with great attention, leaning forward
toward 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 drooped his head for a moment in a reflecting attitude, and
then, raising it, he laughed before he answered:

“That I handled the man a little rough or so, is not to be denied; but
that there was occasion to make use of all the 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--let 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 will
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 eyebrows.

“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 coloring 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 county, sir?”

“No, sir,” said Hiram, “I’m only a justice-peace.”

“I ask you, Mr. Doolittle, in the face of this court, put ting 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 of 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 thought 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 neighbor wanting to
go into the house of another.”

“Oh! then you own it was only meant for a neighborly visit on your part,
and without the sanction of law. Remember, gentlemen, the words of the
witness, ‘one neighbor 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 his 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 favor 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 honor to charge; I rest my case here.”

“Mr. District Attorney,” said the Judge, “have you anything 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 in this 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 due weight with the jury. The grave-looking yeomen who composed
this tribunal laid their heads together for a few minutes, without
leaving the 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 said or done 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 so
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 sank back into
his place, and, removing his cap, stroked down the remnants 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 in the indictment, and, forgetful of his caution, he
exclaimed:

“‘Tis a wicked untruth; I crave no man’s blood. Them thieves, the
Iroquois, won’t say it to any face that I ever thirsted after man’s
blood, I have fou’t as soldier that feared his Maker and his officer,
but I never pulled 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 believe
there’s some who thinks there’s no God in a wilder ness!”

“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 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 whole affair, although
he evidently aimed at the truth, until Mr. Van der School aided him, by
asking some direct questions:

“It appears from examining the papers, that you 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 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 a
chap dropping a muzzle that never misses, and cocking an eye that has
a natural 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 spilt; and I’m
sure, if it had been your’n, I should have mourned 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 oven 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 heard 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 abruptly
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 its
influence over the two; but the Judge interposed his authority.

“This is an improper place for such dialogues,” he said; “proceed with
your examination of this witness, Mr. Lippet, or I shall order the
next.”

The attorney started, as if 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 subpoenaed?”

“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 main 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 ad vantages (I mean legal advantages) which he might
obtain by his art. The counsel for the prisoner, gentlemen, has
endeavored 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. Vain der School favored 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 the facts 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 courtroom 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
jail of this county for one calendar 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 jail for the little time I
have to stay.”

“If you have anything to urge against the passing of the sentence, the
court will yet hear you,” said the Judge, mildly.

“I have enough to say agin’ 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 threescore 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 wicked ness 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 favor 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 melancholy
earnestness, “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 agin afore I die. Have you
forgot the time that you come on to the lake shore, when there wasn’t
even a jail 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 anything 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 ain’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 agin. 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 apiece, 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 a 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 honor 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, forever, 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 sank 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.



CHAPTER XXXIV.


     “Ha! ha! 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, and its
companion, the stocks, were not yet supplanted by the more merciful
expedients of the public prison. Immediately in front of the jail those
relics of the older 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 in
submission to a power that he was unable to op pose, and surrounded by
the crowd that formed a circle about his person, exhibiting in their
countenances 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, in quest of that sympathy that human
nature always seems to require under suffering but he met no direct
manifestations of pity, neither did he see any unfeeling exultation, or
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
tone, as if seeking for some cause to create a quarrel:

“Where away, master constable, is the use 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. Penguillium, 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 in the face of the steward--“is it no harm to show off a man in
his seventy-first year, like a tame bear, for the settlers to look on?
Is it no harm to put an old soldier, that has served through the war
of ‘fifty-six, and seen the enemy 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 spectacle for the county? 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 everywhere with looks of sobriety, and
occasionally of commiseration, he very 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 have 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 creatur’ 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 while 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 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 they are so merry about.”

“No, no, you would go in, and you can’t come out,” returned the officer,
“until the time has expired 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 substituted 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, it’s 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 clapped on his tongue too, in the shape of a
pump-bolt lashed athwartship his jaws, all the same as an outrigger
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, 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 am little short in
my lower timbers, they’ve triced my heels up in such a way as to give me
a bit of a cant. 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 summat too low-rigged to see over the hammock-cloths; but I can
carry the game, dye 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, dye 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 surveyed 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’ll send a hand over and ask the woman for a taste,
for I’m so jammed in these here bilboes that I begin to want summat to
lighten my upper works.”

Natty sighed, and gazed about him on the crowd, that already began 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 in them, and the earth is
dreadfully parched. To my judgment, there’ll be short crops this season,
if the rain doesn’t fail 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 laboring 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 vise, and
whirled the magistrate from his feet, before he had either time to
collect his senses or to 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 he had
taken his antagonist at a great disadvantage, 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? Ain’t it enough for any Christian, let him harbor 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. Penguillium, 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 unequivocal demonstrations toward hostility;
“so mind yourself! square your self, 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 you 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 violent; 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 ran to the 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 away, 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 had found means to hammer the visage of
Hiram out of all shape, by the time Richard succeeded in forcing his
way through the throng to the point of combat. The sheriff afterward
declared that, independently 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
favorites. 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 toward the
mediator. Emboldened by the sight of the sheriff, Mr. Doolittle again
had recourse to his lungs.

“I’ll have 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 said reproach fully:

“Benjamin, how came you in the stocks? I always thought you were 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 with out 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 objection
to the measure, nor spoke of bail, though, as the sheriff preceded the
party of constables that conducted them to the jail, he uttered the
following remonstrance:

“As to being berthed 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 anything worse than a double allowance, for
knocking that carpenters face a-one-side, as you call it, I’ll maintain
it’s agin’ reason and Christianity. If there’s a bloodsucker in this
‘ere county, it’s that very chap. Ay! I know him! and if he hasn’t
got all the same as dead wood in his headworks, he knows summat 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 broadside
to broadside, only that it was foot at anchor, which was what we did in
Port Pray a 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 earnest
dialogue with his friend; and after he de parted 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 “Templeton Coffee-house,” when Natty rose and hung a
blanket before the opening, and the prisoners apparently retired for the
night.



CHAPTER XXXV.


     “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, neer looked behind.”
      --Hudibras.

As the shades of evening approached, the jurors, wit nesses, and other
attendants on the court began 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 soothe 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 and respect to the
persons of those who administer them; and it would sound ill indeed to
report that a judge had extended favor 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 pocketbook are two hundred dollars.
Go to the prison--there are none in this pace to harm thee--give this
note to the jailer, and, when thou seest Bumppo, say what thou wilt to
the poor old man; give scope to the feeling 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 pressed the hand that held the
pocket-book to her bosom, and, taking her friend by the arm, they issued
together from the inclosure 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 the side of his cattle with
a listless air, as if fatigued by the toil of the day. At the corner,
where the jail 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 labor, 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 so 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 the man, and
her 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, not withstanding 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 both rendered the words nearly inaudible.

“Is it possible!” exclaimed Edwards, after the moment of doubt had
passed; “do I see you so nigh the jail! but you are going to the
rectory: I beg pardon, Miss Grant, I believe; I did not recognize you at
first.”

The sigh which Louisa tittered was so faint, that it was only heard by
Elizabeth, who replied quickly, “We are going not only to the jail, 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 labor; 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,” said Elizabeth, returning his bow by a slight inclination
of her head, and urging the tardy Louisa forward. As they entered the
jailer’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
blended with an expression of deep and heartfelt pity. She did not
reply, however, and the appearance of the jailer soon recalled the
thoughts of both to the 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 jailer, 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 visitors that you’ll be glad to see,” returned the jailer. “What
have you done to the lock, that it won’t turn.”

“Handsomely, handsomely, master,” cried the steward: “I have just drove
a nail into a berth 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 han-yan
with me soon, seeing that they’ll mulct me of my Spaniards, all the same
as if I’d over-flogged 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 favorite cask at the “Bold Dragoon,”
 during the afternoon and evening, and was now in that state which by
marine imagery is called “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 visitors 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
jailer, “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 o’ doing all the same as yourself? Leave that there
door free out board, and you’ll find no locking inboard, I’ll promise
ye.”

“I must shut up for the night at nine,” said the jailer, “and it’s now
forty-two minutes past eight.” He placed the little candle 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. 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.
But they are welcome to search 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
melancholy.

“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 at
the same things for the better part of I a man’s life. You are young
yet, child, but you are one of the most precious of God’s creatures.
I had hoped 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, she bent her head aside, so
as to conceal her features. The action and the feeling that caused it
lasted but a moment.

“Other logs, and better, though, can be had, and shall be found for you,
my old defender,” she continued. “Your confinement will soon be over,
and, before that time arrives, I shall have a house prepared for you,
where I you may spend the close of your long and harmless life in ease
and plenty.”

“Ease and plenty! house!” repeated Natty, slowly. “You mean well, 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 been stuck up on end like a jibboom 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 are,” said
Elizabeth.

“Forget you, Miss Lizzy?” returned the steward; “if I do, dam’me; you
are not to be forgot, like Goody Pretty-bones, up at the big house
there. I say, old sharpshooter, she may have pretty bones, but I can’t
say so much for her flesh, d’ye see, for she looks somewhat like anatomy
with another man’s jacket on. Now for the skin of her face, it’s all the
same as a new topsail with a taut bolt-rope, being snug at the leeches,
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 old man, 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 hunt a day, and not start a buck, or see
anything 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 Pennsylvania line in search of the creatures, 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 of my legs and give me the bearings and
the distance of where you want me 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 agin’ the side of the jail.”

“Well, say the word, and then heave ahead, shipmate,” said Benjamin.

“You won’t betray us, gal?” said Natty, looking 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 a sweeping 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 mouth. 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 a beast which cost him nothing?
Such things doesn’t run in the blood, I believe, for you seem not to
forget a favor. Your little fingers couldn’t do much on a buckskin, nor
be you used to push such a thread as sinews. But if he hasn’t got past
hearing, he shalt 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 bedclothes, 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, rising from his stupor; “well, here’s
off. Ay! ay! you catch ‘em, and I’ll hold on to them said beaver-hats.”

“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 honor.”

“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 would not 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 be fore you execute your plan.”

Natty was about to reply, when the approaching footsteps of the jailer
announced the necessity of his immediate return. He had barely time to
regain his feet, and to conceal the hole with the bedclothes, 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 jailer; “it’s the usual
hour for locking up.”

“I follow you, sir,” returned Elizabeth “good-night, 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 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 jailer retired to his dungeons, and the ladies
walked, with throbbing hearts, toward 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 jail 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-jail! a break-jail!” shouted five or six voices from within.

“We must leave him,” said Edwards.

“‘Twouldn’t be kind, lad,” returned Natty; “he took half the disgrace of
the stocks on himself to-day, and the creatur’ has feeling.”

At this moment two or three men were heard issuing 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 night.
Come, who’s for home? Hark! what a rumpus they’re kicking up in the
jail--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.”

“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 enjoined 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, his heavy
feet sounding along the street like the tread of a dozen; “spread
yourselves; to the mountains; they’ll be in the mountains 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 jail 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 to land from it where you please 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 females, 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 had 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 you in 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, 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,
toward 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 as
still as when she issued from the gate on her mission to the jail.



CHAPTER XXXVI.


     “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 Wyoming.

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 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
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 in 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 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 me de most happi of mans. Ah! ma
chére France! I vill see you again.”

“I rejoice, monsieur, at anything that contributes to your happiness,”
 said Elizabeth, “but hope we are not going to lose you entirely.”

The complaisant shopkeeper changed the language to French and recounted
rapidly to Elizabeth his hopes of being permitted to return to his own
country. Habit had, however, so far altered the manners of this pliable
person age, that he continued to serve the wood-chopper, who was in
quest of some tobacco, while he related to his more gentle visitor
the happy change that had taken place in the dispositions of his own
countrymen.

The amount of it all 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 shopkeeper 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 recount the 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. Be fore they parted, however,
Mr. Le Quoi, who seemed to think that he had not said enough, solicited
the honor of a private interview with the heiress, with a gravity in his
air that announced the importance of the subject. After conceding the
favor, and appointing a more favorable 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
bien seance 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 diffidence 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, in deed I am not.”

This was an unexpected declaration to Elizabeth, who, although she
experienced no idle apprehension of a danger that no longer existed,
felt most sensitively all the delicacy of maiden modesty. She stood for
some time, deeply reflecting within herself; but, sensible 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 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 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 pressed
an opening in the bushes, she would pause for breath, or, per haps,
drawn from her pursuit 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 vapor 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, she hastened to execute her mission, dwelling 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. At this point 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
impediment of a forest, in a state of nature, would admit. Numberless
were the fragments of rocks, trunks of fallen trees, and branches,
with which she had to contend; 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 glance
about her in quest of her old friend, but he was evidently not in the
clearing; she arose and walked around its skirts, examining every place
where she thought it probable Natty might deem it prudent to conceal him
self. Her search was fruitless; and, after exhausting not only herself,
but her conjectures, in efforts to discover or imagine his situation,
she ventured to trust her voice in that solitary place.

“Natty! Leather-Stocking! old man!” she called 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.

Elizabeth 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. Our heroine
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.

Mohegan was seated on the trunk of a fallen oak, with his tawny visage
turned toward her, and his 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
in some particulars it was terrific. The long black hair was plaited on
his head, failing away, so as to expose his high forehead and piercing
eyes. 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 his cheeks, with such variations in the lines
as caprice or custom suggested. His body was also colored 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 long had a shirt of calico in readiness for
you.”

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 all 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. If the 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 young
when his tribe gave away the country, in council, from where the blue
mountain stands above the water, to where the Susquehanna 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 ran 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 other’s
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
exchange their lands for powder, and blankets, and merchandise?”

The Indian turned his dark eyes on his companion, and kept them there
with a scrutiny that alarmed her a little.

“Where are the blankets and merchandise that bought the right of the
Fire-eater?” he replied in a more animated voice; “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?
No; they tore it front 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 shame, she
laughed, as if unwilling to understand him seriously, and replied in
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 colored 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 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; 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. After a long
pause, however, she renewed the discourse by asking:

“Where is the Leather-Stocking, John? I have brought this canister
of powder 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,
which she put into his hand.

“This is the great enemy of my nation. Without this, when could the
white man 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 his family will
be dead.” The aged warrior stretched his body forward, leaning an 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 on to the country where his fathers have met.
The game shall be plenty as the Ash 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!--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 powerful 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 earth. Taking her hand, he drew Miss Temple to a seat
beside him, and pointed to the country beneath them.

“See, daughter,” he said, directing her looks toward the north; “as far
as your young eyes can see, it was the land of his. But immense volumes
of smoke at that moment rolled over their heath, and, whirling in the
eddies formed by the mountains, interposed a barrier to their sight,
while he was speaking. Startled by this circumstance, Miss Temple sprang
to 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 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:
“John! where are you, old Mohegan! the woods are on fire, and you have
but a minute for escape.”

The chief put his hand before his mouth, and, making it lay on his lips,
produced the kind of 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 an every feature.



CHAPTER XXXVII.


     “Love rules the court, the camp, the grove.”
      --Lay of the Last Minstrel.

“IT would have been sad, indeed, to lose you in such 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; now is the
time of need.”

Mohegan pointed toward Elizabeth, who, forgetting her danger, had sunk
back to a projection of the rock as soon as she recognized 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 toward
him in an attitude that powerfully spoke terror, blended with reluctance
to meet him in such a place, the shock deprived him of speech.

“Miss Temple!” he cried, when he found words; “you here! is such a death
reserved for you!”

“No, no, no--no death, I hope, for any of us, Mr. Edwards,” she replied,
endeavoring to speak calmly; there is smoke, but no fire to harm us. “Let
us endeavor 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, as he says, to die?”

An expression of painful emotion crossed the face of the young man; he
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 toward the pass by which he had just entered the circle of
flame.

“Do not regard him,” he said, in those tones that de note a desperate
calmness; “he is used to the woods, and such scenes; and 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 born! 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 incommodate 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
life!”

The place of the interview between Miss Temple and the Indian has
already been described as one of those plat forms 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 toward the same place that he urged Elizabeth to a desperate
exertion of 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, toward the outline of smoke where she
already perceived the waving flames shooting forward from the vapor, 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 to redoubled efforts; but, unfortunately, a collection of
the tops of trees, old and dried, lay directly across their course; and
at the very moment when both had thought their safety insured, the warm
current of the air swept a forked tongue of 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 stupor at the flames which were spreading
rap idly down the mountain, whose side, too, became a sheet of living
fire. It was dangerous for one clad in the light and airy dress of
Elizabeth to approach even 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, which, having been scorched under the sun for the
last two months, was ignited with a touch. Indeed, in some cases, there
did not appear to be any contact between the fire and these piles, but
the flames seemed to dart from heap to heap, as the fabulous fire of the
temple is represented to reillumine its neglected lamp.

There was beauty as well as terror in the sight, and Edwards and
Elizabeth stood viewing the progress of the desolation, with a strange
mixture of horror and interest. The former, 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 semicircle around 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 fire. So long as a single pass up or down the mountain was
unexplored, there was hope: 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 light.

“This mountain is doomed to be fatal to me!” she whispered; “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 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
every fissure in the crags in quest of some opening that might offer
facilities for 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, “but 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 to do it; but I am a child at this moment in everything 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--anything is better than to see you a victim to such a death!”

“And what will become of you?” said Elizabeth. “In deed, indeed, neither
you nor John must be sacrificed 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 quick ness 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 consumed already
the captives they inclosed. But the peculiarity of their situation
afforded Elizabeth and her companion the respite of which they had
availed themselves to make the efforts we have recorded.

The thin covering of earth on the rock supported but a scanty and faded
herbage, and most of the trees that had found root in the fissures had
already died, during the in tense heats of preceding summers. Those
which still retained the appearance of life bore a few dry and withered
leaves, 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 brush that led the destructive element, like a torrent, over the
remainder of the hill. As auxiliary to this scarcity of fuel, one of the
large springs which abound in that country gushed out of the side of
the ascent above, and, after creeping sluggishly along the level land,
saturating the mossy covering of the rock with moisture, it swept around
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, 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 awaiting the operations of a battering train, to open its way to
desolation.

That fatal moment seemed now to have arrived, for the hissing steams of
the spring appeared to be nearly exhausted, and the moss of the rocks
was already curling under the intense heat, while 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. 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 falling 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 sometimes 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 toward 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 already looking
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 remarkable 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 of Elizabeth was celestial. “Why name such a trifle now?--at
this moment the heart is dead to all earthly emotions!”

“If anything could reconcile a man to this death,” cried the youth, “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 your self. We must die; yes--yes--we
must die--it is the will of God, and let us endeavor to submit like his
own children.”

“Die!” the youth rather shrieked than exclaimed, “no--no--no--there must
yet be hope--you, at least, must-not, shall not die.”

“In what way can we escape?” asked Elizabeth, pointing with a look of
heavenly composure toward 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 whined, in one of its evolutions, under the influence of the air.
The effect was instantaneous, 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 further end, and the Indian
appeared to be surrounded by 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 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--surely might have
been spared me--but I submit.”

The distance was not so great but the figure of Judge Temple could 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 still more 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 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 weakness, “how clear, 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 command to leave you! 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 my time 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 raised from the earth, 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 she
listened to these words she became once more woman. She struggled
against these feelings, and smiled, as she thought she was shaking
off the last lingering feeling of 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!”

“Hist!” said Elizabeth; “‘tis the Leather-Stocking; he seeks me!”

“‘Tis Natty!” shouted Edwards, “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.

“‘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 deerskin cap, his hair burnt to his
head, his shirt, of country check, black and filled with holes, and
his red features of a deeper color than ever, by the heat he had
encountered.



CHAPTER XXXVIII.


     “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 reappearance
of Elizabeth, the terror 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. While under 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.

“I am glad to meet you here, child,” he said; “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 comrade 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 practysed 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’d seed more painters.
I wish there were more to be found! they’d count up faster than the
beaver. But where’s the good child with 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 several feet at this unexpected intelligence.

“The Lord of Heaven have mercy on her! She’s on the Vision, and that’s
a sheet of fire agin’ this. Child, if ye love the dear one, and hope to
find a friend when ye need it most, to the village, and give the alarm.
The men are used to fighting 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 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 have found ye; but follow--there’s no time
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 buckskin that he carried on his arm, and wrapping
her form in it, in such a manner as to envelop 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, where 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 spoke in Delaware:

“Up and away, Chingachgook! will ye stay here to burn, like a Mingo
at the stake? The Moravians have teached ye better, I hope; the Lord
preserve me if the powder hasn’t flashed atween his legs, and the skin
of his back is roasting. Will ye come, I say; will ye follow me?”

“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 the hunting-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. 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. 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--another will be hard to be
found.”

Obedient to the hunter’s directions, they followed his steps and advice
implicitly; and, although the narrow pas sage along the winding of the
spring led amid burning logs and falling branches, they happily achieved
it in safety. No one but a man long accustomed to the woods could have
traced his route through the 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 knowed ‘twa the Frenchman’s powder, gal; it went so all together;
your coarse grain will squib for a minute. The Iroquois had none of the
best powder when I went agin’ the Canada tribes, under Sir William. Did
I ever tell you the story, lad, consarning the scrimmage 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; but, Looking around him with an
anxious eye, said quickly:

“Shalt 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 accustomed to
the kind of danger he had just encountered. “Had ye stayed in the place
above ten minutes longer, you would both have been in ashes, but here
you may stay forever, 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 sank 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, Miss Temple,” said Edwards
respectfully; “your frame will sink else.”

“Leave me, 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:

“Hereaway, master; stowed in this here bit of a hole, which is all the
time as hot as the cook’s coppers. I’m tired of my berth, 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 Jamaikey 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 summat of a red color 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 hands 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; see it in his eyes--when an Indian fixes his
eye, he means to go but to one place; and what the wilful creatures put
their minds on, they’re sure to do.”

A quick tread prevented the reply, 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 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 ‘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 is 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 natur’ giving out in
a chasm that’s run too long.--Down with ye, Hector! down, I say! Flesh
Isn’t iron, that a man can live forever, 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 toward 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 toward the vale, and began 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 so loud as to be distinct.

“I will come! I will come! to the land of the just I will come! 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 to be true.”

“May heaven avert such self-righteousness from his heart! 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 blessings 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 our Saviour’s death, and reject all weak
and idle dependence on good works, that spring from man’s pride and
vainglory?”

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 Maqous know the back of the Mohegan? What enemy
that trusted in him did not see the morning? What Mingo that he chased
ever sang the song of triumph? Did Mohegan ever he? No; 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; 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
divine; “what says he now? is he sensible of his lost state?”

“Lord!! man,” said Natty, “he knows his end is at hand as well as you
or I; but, so far from thinking it a loss, he believes it to be a great
gain. He is old and stiff, and you have made the game so scarce 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 agin. There’s not much loss in that, to a man whose hands are
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 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 burden
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 scriptur’ gospels for it,
too,” said Natty, “you will make nothing of the Indian. He hasn’t seen
a Moravian p sin’ the war; and it’s hard to keep them from going hack to
their native ways. 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. Ah’s me! ‘tis a
grevious long time that, and many dark days have we 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
tomahawk, and pipe, and the wampum of Mohegan he laid in his grave; for
when he starts ‘twil be in the night, like a warrior on a war-party, and
he can not 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 Cod, and one heaven; and when the strong feeling excited
by the leave-taking of his old companion, which was exhibited by the
powerful 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
agin, and to hunt, and be happy to the end of etarnity, its pretty much
the same with all colors, parson. I could never bring myself to think
that I shall meet with these hounds, or my piece, in another world;
though the thought of leaving them forever 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 fervor. “John--”

He paused for the elements. During the period occupied by the events
which we have related, the dark clouds in the horizon had continued
to increase in numbers and multitude; 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 uncertain currents of their own eddies, but blazed
high and steadily toward the heavens. There was even a quietude in the
ravages of the destructive element, as if it foresaw that a hand greater
titan 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 livid lightning were dancing through
the masses of clouds that impended over the western hills. While Mr.
Grant was speaking, a flash, which sent its quivering light 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 him self, as if
in obedience to a signal for his departure, and stretched his wasted arm
toward the west. His dark face lighted with a look of joy; which, with
all other expressions, 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 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 bands together, with pious energy,
and repeated, in the full, rich tones of assured faith;

“Lord! how unsearchable are Thy judgments; and Thy ways past finding
out! ‘I know that my Redeemer liveth, and 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 my self, 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 his feelings 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, Ah’s me! a man must wait the time of God’s pleasure, but I begin
to weary of life. There is scarcely a tree standing that I know, and
it’s hard to find a face that I was ac-quainted with in my younger
days.”

Large drops of rain now began to fall, and diffuse them selves 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 some-thing 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 Elizabeth 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-morrow,
I shall remove a veil that perhaps it has been weakness to keep around
me and my allaus so long. But I have had romantic and foolish wishes
and weakness; 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; that alone removes the weight of a world
from my spirit!”

He waited for no answer, but sprang into the woods. Elizabeth,
notwithstanding she heard the 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, 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.*

  * The probability of a fire in the woods similar to that here described
    has been questioned.  The writer can only say that he once witnessed a
    fire in another part of New York that compelled a man to desert his
    wagon and horses in the highway, and in which the latter were
    destroyed.  In order to estimate the probability of such an event, it
    is necessary to remember the effects of a long drought in that climate
    and the abundance of dead wood which is found in a forest like that
    described, The fires in the American forests frequently rage to such
    an extent as to produce a sensible effect on the atmosphere at a
    distance of fifty miles.  Houses, barns, and fences are quite commonly
    swept away in their course.



CHAPTER XXXIX.


     “Selictar! unsheathe then our chief’s scimetar;
     Tambourgi! thy ‘larum gives promise of war;
     Ye mountains! that see us descend to the shore,
     Shall view us as 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 stripped of every
vestige of brush and dead wood; but the pines and hemlocks still reared
their heads proudly among the hills, and even the smaller trees of the
forest retained a feeble appearance of life and vegetation.

The many tongues of rumor 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 began 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 rumor of ores
and metals found its way into the confused medley of conjectures,
counterfeiting, and everything 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 of 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 Investments 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
the 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.
Everything 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 the 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 non-parallel 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 the spouse of the commander himself, who frequently
reproached her husband for condescending to lead such an irregular band
of warriors, after he had filled the honorable station of sergeant-major
to a dashing corps of Virginia cavalry through much of the recent war.

Another of these skeptical 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 character of her truant progeny:

“It’s mayhap that they knows summat 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 Boa 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 anything, 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 corps shouldered 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 manoeuver 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 his 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 sufficiently compact 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 began to consult together, apart.

At this conjuncture, they were joined 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 great 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 and branches of trees, which they had
formed into a chevaux-de-frise, making a little circular abatis 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 atwixt us. God forgive
the one that draws it first, but so it must be.”

“Come, old chap,” said Billy, good-naturedly, “don’t be crabb’d, but
hear what a man has got to say I’ve no consarn 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, yonder
be hind 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-calculate your aim, Natty,” said the other, as he stepped
behind a pine that stood near him, “if you think to shoot a man through
a tree with a three-foot butt. I can lay this tree 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 taunt 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
staunch. If it’s only to get into the cave that ye want, wait till a two
hours’ 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 with out as well as within.”

The wood-chopper stepped 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 sundown; 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 hid den 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, to aid me
in performing my duty. Benjamin Penguillan I arrest you, and order you
to follow me to the jail of the county, by virtue of this warrant.”

“I’d follow ye, Squire Dickens,” said Benjamin, removing the pipe from
his month (for during the whole scene the ex-major-domo had been very
composedly smoking); “ay! I’d sail in your wake, to the end of the world,
if-so--be that there was such a place, where there isn’t, seeing that
it’s round. Now mayhap, Master Hollister, having lived all your life on
shore, you isn’t 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 Pengullan, 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, as if ye was hailing a deaf man on a
topgallant yard. May-hap 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 hand,
dye 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,” 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 observer 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 upward with his sabre, that would have divided the
steward into 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 the
direction in which they are first got in motion. In the present instance
it was retrograde, and in less than a minute after the 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 ex-steward
was prostrate on the ground. Captain Hollister availed himself of this
circumstance to scramble ever the breastwork 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 vigalent 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 toward the captain. There was a moment when the
life of the old soldier was in great jeopardy but the object 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 Captain 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 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 hack to an inimy! and such a one! Here
I have 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 agin
the day; and I mate ye retraiting 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 yerself that will be privileged to be getting the same. They do
say, too, there is a power of goold and silver in the place--the Lord
forgive me for setting my heart on woorldly things; but what falls in
the battle, there’s scriptur’ for believing, is 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--“devil the horse do ye own,
sargeant, and ye’re nothing but a shabby captain of malaishy. Oh! if the
ra’al captain was here, tis the other way ye’d be riding, dear, or you
would not follow your laider!”

While this worthy couple were thus discussing events, the battle began
to rage more violently than ever above them. When Leather-Stocking saw
his enemy fairly under headway, as Benjamin would express it, he gave
his attention 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 of
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 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 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 the breastwork, watching with a quick and cautions eye the least
movement of the assail ants. The outcry unfortunately tempted the
ungovernable curiosity of Hiram to take a peep from behind his cover at
the state of 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 manoeuvre in breath less 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 promptitiude 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 toward Natty, and cried aloud:

“Gawl darn ye: this shan’t he 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’s rifle 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 blood shed 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 shied 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
hands, while the “Light Infantry” ceased their military movements, and
waited the issue in suspense.

In less than a minute Edwards came rushing down the hill, followed by
Major Hartman, 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.



CHAPTER XL.


     “I am dumb. Were you the doctor, and I knew you not?”
      --Shakespeare.

During the five or six minutes that elapsed before the youth and Major
reappeared. Judge Temple and the sheriff together with most of the
volunteers, ascended to the terrace, where the latter began 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 color
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’
announced that 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 no his rifle, in the midst of his pursuers, with a fearlessness
that 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 humor. 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 decrepit 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
command.”

“Who is this man?” asked Marmaduke, in a hurried voice, in which the
dawnings of conjecture united with interest to put the question.

“This man,” returned Edwards calmly, his voice, how ever, 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 a powerful emotion, “this, then, is
the lost Major Effingham!”

“Lost indeed,” 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 everything, but suffering this aged man to dwell in
such 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 you,
lat, dat Marmatuke Temple vas a friend 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 gentle man 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 fruit less 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 grand father 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 dismiss them, 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 whole some 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 grand son:

“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 on 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.

“We differed 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 easy to restore the property
of so loyal a subject as Colonel 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 Herr 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 its
just recovery.”

“There was none, but the difficulty of providing for so many claimants.”

“But there would have been one, and an insuperable one, and I announced
to the world that I held these estates, multiplied by the times and my
industry, a hundredfold 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
learned 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
penniless.”

“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 learned that he had left it in secret; though the
reluctant hireling, who had deserted him in his poverty, owned to my
urgent en treaties, that he believed he had been carried away by an old
man who had formerly been his servant. I knew at once it was Natty, for
my father often--”

“Was Natty a servant of 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 or breeding; 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 vas 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 parent survive till autumn, I purposed taking
him with me to the city, where we have distant relatives, who must
have learned 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 grand father, 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 use less 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, so far from intending thy family wrong during life,
it has been my care to see 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 connection, and the circumstances in
which they separated. He then proceeded to relate the motives of his
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 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 Colonel 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 Ed ward Effingham, and of his son Edward Oliver
Effingham, or to the survivor of them, and the descendants of such
survivor, forever, on the other part. The trust was to endure until
1810, 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 Colonel 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 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 sprang 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
toward the door to the Major.

“I telt you vat, gal!” said the old German, good-humoredly; “if I vas
as I vas ven I servit mit his grand-fader on ter lakes, ter lazy tog
shouldn’t vin ter prize as for nottin’.”

“Come, come, old Fritz,” said the Judge; “you are seventy, not
seventeen; Richard waits for you with a bowl of eggnog, in the hall.”

“Richart! ter duyvel!” exclaimed the other, hastening out of the room;
“he makes ter nog as for ter horse 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 are mistaken.

The tete-a-tete 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 mere and his
sucreboosh.” 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
Monsieur 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 had 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 at tempted to persuade the Gaul,
as the sheriff called him, that he should next try Remarkable Pettibone.
But, though 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 Pettybones, 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
agin 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 summat of a galliot fashion: when you once takes ‘em in
tow, they doesn’t like to be cast off agin.”



CHAPTER XLI.


     “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 skill 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 labors 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 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 jail peaceably, where they continued, well fed
and comfortable, 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 the imprisonment.

Mr. Doolittle began to discover that neither 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
compromise, to use the language of the country he “pulled up stakes,”
 and proceeded farther 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 sibyl, 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 hunter, 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 some such character,
found the island of Martinique, and his “sucreboosh,” 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 afterward
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 vigor 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
requesting her to join him in a short excursion to the lakeside. 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 a gypsy hat,
and 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, the object of the 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 the mountain, which were gay with the
thousand dyes 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; “everything 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
Louisa 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, “really don’t know
any one hereabouts good enough for her.”

“Perhaps not her; 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 an excellent 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.”

“Anything, anything, 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 connection, as may be proper for
one of her years and character.”

“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 thy 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 the 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. 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 with the chisel.

Oliver and Elizabeth approached the graves with a light tread, unheard
by the old hunter, whose sunburnt face was working, 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 anything 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 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 ain’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
bring the just together, at His own time, and who’ll whiten the skin of
a blackamoor, 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 fervor,
“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, formally a Major
in his B. Majesty’s 60th Foot; a soldier of tried valor; a subject of
chivalrous loyalty; and a man of honesty. To these virtues he added
the graces of a Christian. The morning of his life was spent in honor,
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 rest 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 illuminated 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 his master’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. Effingham made a fruitless
effort 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 honor. ‘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! ‘hecan.”

“Mohican; and Chingagook--”

“‘Gach, boy; ‘gach-gook; Chingachgook, which interpreted, 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. ‘He was the last of his people who continued
to inhabit this country; and it may be said of him 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 knowed him
as I did, in his prime, in that very battle where the old gentleman, who
sleeps by his side saved his life, when them thieves, the Iroquois,
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 weapon. 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 shaved 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 be
a drunken vagabond from the Oneidas, or them Yankee Indians, who, they
say, be moving up from the seashore; and who belong to none of
Gods creatures, 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,
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 dropped away.”

“I knowed the parting would come hard, children--I knowed 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 stayed
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 sunrise to sundown. And though I’m much
bound to ye both, children--I wouldn’t say it if It was not true--I
crave to go into the woods agin--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 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 anything wanting to your comfort, name it,
Leather-Stocking; if it be attainable it is yours.”

“You mean all for the best, lad, I know; 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, and
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 be dispossessed 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 for the Leather-Stocking, children; God will see that his
days be provided for, and his indian happy. I know you mean all for the
best, but our ways doesn’t agree. I love the woods, and ye relish the
face of man; I eat when hungry, and drink when a-dry; and ye keep stated
hours and 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
creatures be made for some use, and I’m formed for the wilderness, If ye
love me, let me go where my soul craves to be agin!”

The appeal was decisive; and not another word of en treaty 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 procured 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 curious eye.

“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 honorable 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 judgement, and justice shall be the law, and not
power.”

Elizabeth raised her head, and offered her colorless cheek to his
salute, when he lifted his cap and touched it respectfully. His hand was
grasped with convulsive fervor by the youth, who continued silent. The
hunter prepared himself for his journey, drawing his belt tighter, and
wasting his moments in the little reluctant movements 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 footsore afore ye see the end of the
journey!”

The hounds leaped from the earth at this cry, and scenting around the
grave and 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, had sup pressed the feelings
of nature, he turned to renew his en treaties, 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 they ever saw of the Leather-Stocking, whose rapid
movements preceded the pursuit which Judge Temple both ordered and
conducted. He had gone far toward the setting sun--the foremost in that
band of pioneers who are opening the way for the march of the nation
across the continent.





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