The trees of many acres had been felled, and the glow of a mild summer’s evening had fallen on the clearing, in beautiful contrast to the gray light of the forest. A short distance from the place where Duncan stood, the stream had seemingly expanded into a little lake, covering most of the low land, from mountain to mountain. The water fell out of this wide basin, in a cataract so regular and gentle, that it appeared rather to be the work of human hands, than fashioned by nature. A hundred earthen dwellings stood on the margin of the lake, and even in its water, as though the latter had flowed its usual banks. Their rounded roofs, admirably moulded for defence against the weather, denoted more of industry and foresight, than the natives were wont to bestow on their regular habitations, much less on those they occupied for the temporary purposes of hunting and war. In short, the whole village, or town, which ever it might be termed, possessed more of method and neatness of execution, than the white men had been accustomed to believe belonged, ordinarily, to the Indian habits. It appeared, however, to be deserted. At least, so thought Duncan for many minutes; but, at length, he fancied he discovered several human forms, advancing towards him on all fours, and apparently dragging in their train some heavy, and, as he was quick to apprehend, some formidable engine. Just then a few dark looking heads gleamed out of the dwellings, and the place seemed suddenly alive with beings, which, however, glided from cover to cover so swiftly, as to allow no opportunity of examining their humours or pursuits. Alarmed at these suspicious and inexplicable movements, he was about to attempt the signal of the crows, when the rustling of leaves at hand, drew his eyes in another direction.
The young man started, and recoiled a few paces instinctively, when he found himself within a hundred yards of a stranger Indian. Recovering his recollection on the instant, instead of sounding an alarm, which might prove fatal to himself, he remained stationary, an attentive observer of the other’s motions.
An instant of calm observation, served to assure Duncan that he was undiscovered. The native, like himself, seemed occupied in considering the low dwellings of the village, and the stolen movements of its inhabitants. It was impossible to discover the expression of his features, through the grotesque masque of paint, under which they were concealed; though Duncan fancied it was rather melancholy than savage. His head was shaved, as usual, with the exception of the crown, from whose tuft three or four faded feathers, from a hawk’s wing, were loosely dangling. A ragged calico mantle half encircled his body, while his nether garment was composed of an ordinary shirt, the sleeves of which were made to perform the office that is usually executed by a much more commodious arrangement. His legs were bare, and sadly cut and torn by briars. The feet were, however, covered with a pair of good bear-skin moccasins. Altogether, the appearance of the individual was forlorn and miserable.
Duncan was still curiously observing the person of his neighbour, when the scout stole silently and cautiously to his side.
“You see we have reached their settlement, or encampment,” whispered the young man; “and here is one of the savages himself in a very embarrassing position for our further movements.”
Hawk-eye started, and dropped his rifle, when, directed by the finger of his companion, the stranger came under his view. Then lowering the dangerous muzzle, he stretched forward his long neck, as if to assist a scrutiny that was already intensely keen.
“The imp is not a Huron,” he said, “nor of any of the Canada tribes! and yet you see by his clothes, the knave has been plundering a white. Ay, Montcalm, has raked the woods for his inroad, and a whooping, murdering set of varlets has he gathered together! Can you see where he has put his rifle, or his bow?”
“He appears to have no arms; nor does he seem to be viciously inclined. Unless he communicate the alarm to his fellows, who, as you see, are dodging about the water, we have but little to fear from him.”
The scout turned to Heyward, and regarded him a moment with unconcealed amazement. Then opening wide his mouth, he indulged in unrestrained and heartfelt laughter, though in that silent and peculiar manner, which danger had so long taught him to practise.
Repeating the words, “fellows who are dodging about the water!” he added, “so much for schooling and passing a boyhood in the settlements! The knave has long legs though, and shall not be trusted. Do you keep him under your rifle, while I creep in behind, through the bush, and take him alive. Fire on no account.”
Heyward had already permitted his companion to bury part of his person in the thicket, when stretching forth an arm, he arrested him, in order to ask–
“If I see you in danger, may I not risk a shot?”
Hawk-eye regarded him a moment, like one who knew not how to take the question; then nodding his head, he answered, still laughing, though inaudibly–
“Fire a whole platoon, major.”
In the next moment he was concealed by the leaves. Duncan waited several minutes in feverish impatience, before he caught another glimpse of the scout. Then he re-appeared, creeping along the earth, from which his dress was hardly distinguishable, directly in the rear of his intended captive. Having reached within a few yards of the latter, he arose to his feet, silently and slowly. At that instant, several loud blows were struck on the water, and Duncan turned his eyes just in time to perceive that a hundred dark forms were plunging, in a body, into the troubled little sheet. Grasping his rifle, his looks were again bent on the Indian near him. Instead of taking the alarm, the unconscious savage stretched forward his neck, as if he also watched the movements about the gloomy lake, with a sort of silly curiosity. In the mean time, the uplifted hand of Hawk-eye was above him. But, without any apparent reason, it was withdrawn, and its owner indulged in another long, though still silent, fit of merriment. When the peculiar and hearty laughter of Hawk-eye was ended, instead of grasping his victim, by the throat, he tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and exclaimed aloud–
“How now, friend! have you a mind to teach the beavers to sing?”
“Even so,” was the ready answer. “It would seem that the Being that gave them power to improve his gifts so well, would not deny them voices to proclaim his praise.”
CHAPTER V.
Hot.“Are we all met?”
Qui.“Pat–pat; and here’s a marvellous Convenient place for our rehearsal.”
–Shakspeare.
The reader may better imagine, than we describe, the surprise of Heyward. His lurking Indians were suddenly converted into four-footed beasts; his lake into a beaver pond; his cataract into a dam, constructed by those industrious and ingenious quadrupeds; and a suspected enemy into his tried friend, David Gamut, the master of psalmody. The presence of the latter created so many unexpected hopes relative to the sisters, that, without a moment’s hesitation, the young man broke out of his ambush, and sprang forward to join the two principal actors in the scene.
The merriment of Hawk-eye was not easily appeased. Without ceremony, and with a rough hand, he twirled the supple Gamut around on his heel, and more than once affirmed that the Hurons had done themselves great credit in the fashion of his costume. Then seizing the hand of the other, he squeezed it with a gripe that brought the tears into the eyes of the placid David, and wished him joy of his new condition.
“You were about opening your throat-practysings among the beavers, were ye!” he said. “The cunning devils know half the trade already, for they beat the time with their tails, as you heard just now; and in good time it was too, or ‘kill-deer’ might have sounded the first note among them. I have known greater fools, who could read and write, than an experienced old beaver; but as for squalling, the animals are born dumb!–What think you of such a song as this?”
David shut his sensitive ears, and even Heyward. apprised as he was of the nature of the cry, looked upward in quest of the bird, as the cawing of a crow rang in the air about them.
“See,” continued the laughing scout, as he pointed towards the remainder of the party, who, in obedience to the signal, were already approaching; “this is music, which has its natural virtues; it brings two good rifles to my elbow, to say nothing of the knives and tomahawks. But we see that you are safe; now tell us what has become of the maidens.”
“They are captives to the heathen,” said David; “and though greatly troubled in spirit, enjoying comfort and safety in the body.”