The Black Eagle; or, Ticonderoga

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER IX.

  Were any one inclined to doubt the wonderful harmony which pervadesall the works of God, from the very greatest to the very least, hemight find a collateral, if not a direct, proof of its existence inthe instinctive inclination of the mind of man to discern, in theexternal world of Nature, figurative resemblances and illustrations ofthe facts, the events, and the objects of man's moral being andspiritual existence. Not an hour of the day--not a season of theyear--not a change in the sky, or on the prospect--not a shade fallingover the light, nor a beam penetrating the darkness--but man'simagination seizes upon it to figure some one or other of the moralphenomena of his nature, and at once perceives and proclaims a harmonybetween material and immaterial things. The earliest flower of thespring (the shade-loving violet) images to the mind of most men agentle, sweet, retiring spirit. The blushing rose, in its majesty ofbloom, displays the pomp and fragrance of mature beauty. The cloudsand the storms give us figures for the sorrows, the cares, and thedisasters of life; and the spring and the winter, the dawning and thedecline of day, shadow forth to our fancy youth and old age; while therising sun pictures our birth into this life of active exertion,effort, toil, glory, and immortality; and the night, with the new dawnbeyond it, the grave, and a life to come.

  It was in the old age of the year, then--not the decrepit old age, butthe season of vigorous, though declining, maturity; and in thechildhood of the day--not the infancy of dawn, where everything isgrey and obscure, but the clear, dewy childhood, where all isfreshness, and elasticity, and balm--that three travellers took theirway onward from the house of Mr. Prevost along a path which led towardthe north-east.

  Two other persons watched them from the door of the house, and twonegro-men and a negro-woman gazed after them from the corner of thebuilding, which joined on to a low fence, encircling the stable andpoultry-yard, and running on round the well-cultivated kitchen garden.

  The negro-woman shook her head, and looked sorrowful and sighed, butsaid nothing; the two men talked freely of the imprudence of "master"in suffering his son to go upon such an expedition.

  Mr. Prevost and his daughter gazed in silence till the recedingfigures were hidden by the trees. Then the master of the house ledEdith back, saying--

  "God will protect him, my child. A parent was not given to crush theenergies of youth, but to direct them."

  In the meanwhile, Lord H---- and his guide--Captain Brooks, accordingto his English name, or Woodchuck in the Indian parlance--followed byWalter Prevost, made their way rapidly, though easily, through thewood. The two former were dressed in the somewhat anomalous attirewhich I have described in first introducing the the worthy captain tothe reader; but Walter was in the ordinary costume of the people ofthe province of that day, except inasmuch as he had his rifle in hishand, and a large leathern wallet slung over his left shoulder; eachof his companions, too, had a rifle hung across the back by a broadleathern band; and each was furnished with a hatchet at his girdle,and a long pipe, with a curiously-carved stem, in his hand.

  Although they were not pursuing any of the public provincial roads,and they were consequently obliged to walk singly, the one followingthe other, yet Woodchuck, who led the way, had no difficulty infinding it, or in proceeding rapidly.

  We are told by an old writer of those days, who, unlike many modernwriters, witnessed, with his own eyes, all he described, that theIndian trails, or footpaths, were innumerable over that large tract ofcountry which the Five Nations called their "Long House," crossing andre-crossing each other in every different direction: sometimes almostlost where the ground was hard and dry; sometimes indenting, by therepeated pressure of many feet, the natural soil to the depth ofthirty-six or forty inches.

  It was along one of these that the travellers were passing; andalthough a stump here and there, or a young tree springing up in themidst of a trail, offered an occasional impediment, it was rarely ofsuch a nature as to retard the travellers in their course, ormaterially add to their fatigues.

  With the calm assurance and unhesitating rapidity of a practisedwoodsman, Brooks led his two companions forward without doubt as tohis course. No great light had he, it is true; for though the sun wasactually above the horizon, and now and then his slanting rays foundtheir way through some more open space, and gilded their pathway, ingeneral the thick trees and underwood formed a shade, which, at thatearly hour, the light could hardly penetrate; and the sober morningwas still dressed almost in the dark hues of night.

  "Set your steps in mine," said Woodchuck, speaking in a whisper overhis shoulder to Lord H----, "then we shall be real Ingians. Don't youknow that when they go out on the war-path, as they call it, each manputs down his foot just where his leader put down his before. So, comedog, come cat, no one can tell how many went to Jack Pilbury's barn."

  "But do you think there is any real danger?" asked Lord H----.

  "There is always danger in a dark wood and a dark eye," answeredWoodchuck, with a laugh; "but no more danger here than in Prevost'scottage of either the one or the other, for you or for Walter. As forme, I am safe anywhere."

  "But you are taking strange precautions where there is no danger,"observed Lord H----, who could not banish all doubts of his wildcompanion: "you speak in whispers, and advise us to follow all thecunning devices of the Indians, in a wood which we passed throughfearlessly yesterday."

  "I am just as fearless now as you war then, if you passed through thiswood," answered Brooks, in a graver tone; "but you are not a woodsman,major, or you'd understand better. We who, five days out of the seven,are surrounded by enemies, or but half-friends--just like a manwrapped up in a porcupine skin--are quite sure that a man's worstenemy and greatest traitor is in himself. So, even when a wise man isquite safe, he puts a guard upon his lips, lest that traitor shouldbetray him; and as for his enemies, knowing there is always onepresent with him, he takes every care that his everlasting fancy canhit upon, lest more should come suddenly upon him. What I mean, sir,is, that we are so _often_ in danger, that we think it best to act asif we were _always_ in it; and, never knowing how near it may be, tomake as sure as we can that we keep it at a distance. You cannot tellthat there is not an Ingian in every bush you pass; and yet you'dchatter as loud as if you were in my lady's drawing-room. But I,though I know there is ne'er a one, don't speak louder than agrasshopper's hind legs, for fear I should get into the habit oftalking loud in the forest."

  "There is some truth, my friend, I believe, in what you say," returnedLord H----; "but I hear a sound growing louder and louder as weadvance. It is the cataract, I suppose.

  "Yes, just the waterfall," answered the other, in an indifferent tone."Down half a mile below, Master Walter will find the boat that willtake him to Albany. Then you and I can snake up by the side of theriver till we have gone as fur as we have a mind to. I shouldn'twonder if we got a shot at somewhat on four, as we run along; a moose,or a painter, or a look-severe, or something of that kind. Pity wehaven't got a canoe, or a batteau, or something to put our game in."

  "In Heaven's name, what do you call a look-severe?" asked Lord H----.

  "Why, the French folks call it a _loup-cervier_," answered Brooks. "Iguess you never saw one. But he is not as pleasant as a pretty maid ina by-place, is he, Master Walter? He puts himself up into a tree, andthere he watches, looking fast asleep, but with the devil that is inhim moving every joint of his tail the moment he hears anything cometrotting along; and when it is just under him, down he drops upon itplump, like a rifle-shot into a pumpkin."

  The conversation then fell off into a word or two spoken now andthen, and still the voice of the waters grew louder and more loud,till Lord H---- could hardly hear his own footfalls. The morepractised ear of Brooks, however, caught every sound; and at length heexclaimed:--"What's alive? Why are you cocking your rifle, Walter?"

  "Hush!" said the lad; "there is something stealing in there behind thelaurels. It is an Indian, I think, going on all fours. Look quietlyout there."

  "More
likely a _bee_ar," replied Woodchuck, in the same low tone whichthe other had used--"I see, I see. It's not a _bee_ar either; but it'snot an Ingian. It's gone--no, there it is agin. Hold hard!--let himclimb. It's a painter. Here, Walter, come up in front--you shall havehim. The cur smells fresh meat. He'll climb in a minute. There hegoes. No, the crittur's on again. We shall lose him if we don't mind.Quick, Walter! spread out there to the right. I will take the left,and we shall drive him to the water, where he must climb. You, major,keep right on a head--mind take the middle trail all along, and lookup at the branches, or you may have him on your head. There, he's abending south. Quick, Walter, quick!"

  Lord H---- had as yet seen nothing of the object discovered by theeyes of his two companions, but he had sufficient of the sportsman inhis nature to enter into all their eagerness; and, unslinging hisrifle, he followed the path, or trail, along which they had beenproceeding, while Walter Prevost darted away into the tangled busheson the right, and Woodchuck stole more quietly in amongst the trees onhis left. He could hear the branches rustle, and, for nearly a quarterof a mile, could trace their course on either side of him by thevarious little signs of now a waving branch, now a slight sound. Once,and only once, he thought he saw the panther cross the trail, but itwas at a spot peculiarly dark, and he did not feel at all sure thatfancy had not deceived him.

  The roar of the cataract in the mean time increased each moment; andit was evident to the young nobleman that he and his companions ontheir different courses were approaching close and more closely tosome large stream towards which it was the plan of good Captain Brooksto force the object of their pursuit. At length, too, the light becamestronger, and the blue sky and sunshine could be seen through the topsof the trees in front, when suddenly, on the right, he heard thereport of a rifle, and then a fierce snarling sound, with a shout fromWalter Prevost.

  Knowing how dangerous the wounded panther is, the young officer,without hesitation, darted away into the brush to aid Edith's brother;for, by this time, it was in that light that he generally thought ofhim; and the lad soon heard his approach, and guided him up by thevoice, calling--"Here, here!" There was no alarm or agitation in histones, which were rather those of triumph; and, a moment after, as hecaught sight of his friend's coming form, he added--"He's a splendidbeast. I must have the skin off him."

  Lord H---- drew nigh, somewhat relaxing his speed when he found therewas no danger, and in another minute he was by the side of the lad whowas just quietly re-charging his rifle, while at some six or sevenyards' distance lay a large panther, of the American species, mortallywounded, and quite powerless for evil, but not yet quite dead.

  "Keep away from him--keep away!" cried Walter, as the young noblemanapproached. "They sometimes tear one terribly even at the last gasp."

  "Why, he is nearly as big as a tiger," said Lord H----.

  "He is a splendid fellow," answered Walter, joyfully. "One might livea hundred years in England without finding such game."

  Lord H---- smiled, and remained for a moment or two, till the youngman's rifle was re-loaded, gazing at the beast in silence.

  Suddenly, however, they both heard the sound of another rifle on theleft, and Walter exclaimed--

  "Woodchuck has got one too."

  But the report was followed by a yell very different from the snarl orgrowl of a wounded beast.

  "That's no panther's cry," exclaimed Walter Prevost, his cheek turningsomewhat pale; "what can have happened?"

  "It was a human utterance," said Lord H----, listening, "like that ofsome one in sudden agony. I trust our friend, the Woodchuck, has notshot himself by accident."

  "It is not a white man's cry," said Walter, bending; his ear in thedirection from which had come the sounds. But all was still; and theyoung man raised his voice, and shouted to their companion.

  No answer was returned; and Lord H----, exclaiming, "We had betterseek him at once, he may need help," darted away towards the spotwhence his ear told him the shot had come.

  "A little more to the right, my lord, a little more to the right,"said Walter; "you will hit on a trail in a minute" Then, raising hisvoice again, he shouted "Woodchuck! Woodchuck!" with evident alarm anddistress.

  He was right in the supposition that they should soon find some path,for they struck an Indian trail, crossing that on which they had beenpreviously proceeding, and leading in the direction in which theywished to go. Both then hurried on with greater rapidity, Walterrunning rather than walking, and Lord H---- following, with his cockedrifle in his hand.

  They had not far to go, however; for the trail soon opened upon asmall piece of grassy savanna, lying close upon the river's edge; andin the midst of it they beheld a sight which was terrible enough initself, but which afforded less apprehension and grief to the mind ofLord H---- than to that of Walter Prevost, who was better acquaintedwith the Indian habits and character.

  About ten yards from the mouth of the path appeared the powerful formof Captain Brooks, with his folded arms leaning on the muzzle of hisdischarged rifle. He was as motionless as a statue; his browcontracted; his brown cheek very pale, and his eyes bent forward uponan object lying upon the grass before him. It was the body of anIndian weltering in his blood. The dead man's head was bare of allcovering, except the scalp-lock. He was painted with the war colours;and in his hand, as he lay, he still grasped the tomahawk, as if ithad been raised, in the act to strike, the moment before he fell.

  To the eyes of Lord H----, his tribe or nation was an undiscoveredsecret; but certain small signs and marks in his garb, and even in hisfeatures, showed Walter Prevost at once that he was not only one ofthe Five Nations, but an Oneida.

  The full and terrible importance of the fact will be seen by whatfollowed.