CHAPTER XXI.
"Was she not all my fondest wish could frame? Did ever mind so much of heaven partake? Did she not love me with the purest flame? And give up friends and fortune for my sake? Though mild as evening skies, With downcast, streaming eyes, Stood the stern frown of supercilious brows, Deaf to their brutal threats, and faithful to her vows." --SHAW.
Dus was then near me--in sight of the storehouse, perhaps! But affectionfor her uncle, and no interest in me, had brought her there. I couldrespect her attachment to her old guardian, however, and admire thedecision and spirit she had manifested in his behalf, at the very momentthe consciousness that I had no influence on her movements was the mostprofound.
"T'e gal woult come, Mortaunt," the Chainbearer continued, after havinggone through his narrative; "ant, if you know Dus, you know when sheloves she wilt not be deniet. Got pless me! what a wife she woult makefor a man who wast desarfin' of her! Oh! here's a pit of a note t'e dearcreature has written to one of T'ousandacres' poys, who hast peen outamong us often, t'ough I never so much as dreamet t'at t'e squatting oltrascal of a fat'er was on our lant, here. Well, Zepaniah, as t'e lat iscallet, hast passet much time at t'e Nest, working apout in t'e fielts,and sometimes for us; and, to own the trut' to you, Mortaunt, I dopelieve t'e young chap hast a hankerin' a'ter Dus, and woult pe glatenough to get t'e gal for a wife."
"He! Zephaniah Thousandacres--or whatever his infernal name may be--_he_a hankering or an attachment for Ursula Malbone--he think of her for awife--he presume to love such a perfect being!"
"Hoity, toity," cried old Andries, looking round at me in surprise, "whyshouldn't t'e poy haf his feelin's ast well ast anot'er, if he pe asquatter? Squatters haf feelin's, t'ough t'ey hafn't much honesty topoast of. Ant, ast for honesty, you see, Mortaunt, it is tifferentpetween T'ousantacres and his poys. T'e lats haf peen prought up tofancy t'ere ist no great harm in lif'ing on anot'er man's lants,whereast t'is olt rascal, t'eir fat'er, wast prought up, or _t'inks_ hewast prought up in t'e very sanctum sanctorum of gotliness among t'ePuritans, and t'at t'e 'art' hast not t'eir equals in religion, I'llwarrant you. Ask olt Aaron apout his soul, and he'll tell you t'at it'sa petter soul t'an a Dutch soul, and t'at it won't purn at all, it's sofree from eart'. Yes, yes--t'at ist t'e itee wit' 'em all in his part oft'e worlt. T'eir gotliness ist so pure even sin wilt do it no greatharm."
I knew the provincial prejudices of Chainbearer too well to permitmyself to fall into a discussion on theology with him, just at thatmoment; though I must do the old man the justice to allow that hisopinion of the self-righteousness of the children of the Puritans wasnot absolutely without some apology. I never had any means ofascertaining the fact, but it would have occasioned me no surprise had Idiscovered that Thousandacres, and all his brood, looked down on us NewYorkers as an especially fallen and sinful race, which was on the highroad to perdition, though encouraged and invited to enter on a differentroad by the spectacle of a chosen people so near them, following thestraight and narrow path that leads to heaven. This mingling of God andMammon is by no means an uncommon thing among us, though the squatterswould probably have admitted themselves that they had fallen a littleaway, and were by no means as good as their forefathers had once been.There is nothing that sticks so close to an individual, or to acommunity, as the sense of its own worth. As "coming events cast theirshadows before," this sentiment leaves its shadows behind, long afterthe substance which may have produced them has moved onward, or beenresolved into the gases. But I must return to Zephaniah and the note.
"And you tell me, Chainbearer, that Ursula has actually written a note,a letter, to this young man?" I asked, as soon as I could musterresolution enough to put so revolting a question?
"Sartain; here it ist, ant a very pretty lookin' letter it is, Mortaunt.Dus does everyt'ing so hantily, ant so like a nice young woman, t'at itist a pleasure to carry one of her letters. Ay--t'ere t'e lat ist now,and I'll just call him, and gif him his own."
Chainbearer was as good as his word, and Zephaniah soon stood at thedoor of the storehouse.
"Well, you wilt own, Zeph," continued the old man, "we didn't cage youlike a wilt peast, or a rogue t'at hast been mettlin' wit' what tidn'tpelong to him, when you wast out among us. T'ere is t'at difference int'e treatment--put no matter! Here ist a letter for you, and much gootmay it do you! It comes from one who vilt gif goot atvice; and you'll benone the worse if you follow it. I don't know a wort t'at's in it, putyou'll fint it a goot letter, I'll answer for it. Dus writes peautifulletters, and in a hand almost as plain and hantsome as his excellency's,t'ough not quite so large. Put her own hant is'nt as large as hisexcellency's, t'ough his excellency's hant was'nt particularly pigneit'er."
I could scarcely believe my senses! Here was Ursula Malbone confessedlywriting a letter to a son of Thousandacres, the squatter, and that sonadmitted to be her admirer! Devoured by jealousy, and a thousandfeelings to which I had hitherto been a stranger, I gazed at thefortunate being who was so strangely honored by this communication fromDus, with the bitterest envy. Although, to own the truth, the youngsquatter was a well-grown, good-looking fellow, to me he seemed to bethe very personification of coarseness and vulgarity. It will readily besupposed that Zephaniah was not entirely free from some very justimputations of the latter character; but on the whole, most girls of hisown class in life would be quite content with him in these respects. ButUrsula Malbone was not at all of his own class in life. However reducedin fortune, she was a lady, by education as well as by birth; and whatfeelings could there possibly be in common between her and her strangeadmirer? I had heard it said that women were as often taken by externalsas men; but in this instance the externals were coarse, and nothingextraordinary. Some females, too, could not exist without admiration;and I had known Dus but a few weeks, after all, and it was possible Ihad not penetrated the secret of her true character. Then her originaleducation had been in the forest; and we often return to our firstloves, in these particulars, with a zest and devotion for which there isno accounting. It was possible this strange girl might have portrayed toher imagination, in the vista of the future, more of happiness and wildenjoyment among the woods and ravines of stolen clearings, than bydwelling amid the haunts of men. In short, there was scarce a conceitthat did not crowd on my brain, in that moment of intense jealousy andprofound unhappiness. I was as miserable as a dog.
As for Zephaniah, the favored youth of Ursula Malbone, he received hisletter, as I fancied, with an awkward surprise, and lounged round thecorner of the building, to have the pleasure, as it might be, of readingit to himself. This brought him nearer to my position; for I hadwithdrawn, in a disgust I could not conquer, from being near the scenethat had just been enacted.
Opening a letter, though it had been folded by the delicate hands ofUrsula Malbone, and reading it, were two very different operations, asZephaniah now discovered. The education of the young man was verylimited, and after an effort or two, he found it impossible to get on.With the letter open in his hand, he found it as much a sealed book tohim as ever. Zephaniah _could_ read writing, by dint of a considerabledeal of spelling; but it must not be a good hand. As some persons cannotcomprehend pure English, so he found far more difficulty in spelling outthe pretty, even characters before him, than would have been the casehad he been set at work on the pot-hooks and trammels of one of his ownsisters. Glancing his eyes around in quest of aid, they happened to fallon mine, which were watching his movements with the vigilance of afeline animal, through the chinks of the logs, and at the distance ofonly three feet from his own face. As for the Indian, he, _seemingly_,took no more note of what was passing, than lovers take of time in astolen interview; though I had subsequently reason to believe thatnothing had escaped his observation. Andries was in a distant part ofthe prison, reconnoitring the clearing and mills with an interest thatabsorbed all his attention for the moment. Of these facts Zephaniahassured himself by t
aking a look through the openings of the logs; then,sidling along nearer to me, he said in a low voice--
"I don't know how it is, but to tell you the truth, Major Littlepage,York larnin' and Varmount larnin' be so different, that I don't find itquite as easy to read this letter as I could wish."
On this hint I seized the epistle, and began to read it in a low tone;for Zephaniah asked this much of me, with a delicacy of feeling that, inso far, was to his credit. As the reader may have some of the curiosityI felt myself, to know what Ursula Malbone could possibly have to say inthis form to Zephaniah Thousandacres, I shall give the contents of thisstrange epistle in full. It was duly directed to "Mr. ZephaniahTimberman, Mooseridge," and in that respect would have passed for anycommon communication. Within, it read as follows:--
"SIR:--
"As you have often professed a strong regard for me, I now put you to the proof of the sincerity of your protestations. My dear uncle goes to your father, whom I only know by report, to demand the release of Major Littlepage, who, we hear, is a prisoner in the hands of your family, against all law and right. As it is possible the business of uncle Chainbearer will be disagreeable to Thousandacres, and that warm words may pass between them, I ask of your friendship some efforts to keep the peace; and, particularly, should anything happen to prevent my uncle from returning, that you would come to me in the woods--for I shall accompany the Chainbearer to the edge of your clearing--and let me know it. You will find me there, attended by one of the blacks, and we can easily meet if you cross the fields in an eastern direction, as I will send the negro to find you and to bring you to me.
"In addition to what I have said above, Zephaniah, let me also earnestly ask your care in behalf of Major Littlepage. Should any evil befall that gentleman, it would prove the undoing of your whole family! The law has a long arm, and it will reach into the wilderness, as well as into a settlement. The person of a human being is a very different thing from a few acres of timber, and General Littlepage will think far more of his noble son than he will think of all the logs that have been cut and floated away. Again and again, therefore, I earnestly entreat of you to befriend this gentleman, not only as you hope for my respect, but as you hope for your own peace of mind. I have had some connection with the circumstances that threw Mr. Littlepage into your hands, and shall never know a happy moment again should anything serious befall him. Remember this, Zephaniah, and let it influence your own conduct. I owe it to myself and to you to add, that the answer I gave you at Ravensnest, the evening of the raising, must remain my answer, now and forever; but, if you have really the regard for me that you then professed, you will do all you can to serve Major Littlepage, who is an old friend of my uncle's and whose safety, owing to circumstances that you would fully understand were they told to you, is absolutely necessary to my future peace of mind.
"Your friend,
"URSULA MALBONE."
What a strange girl was this Dus! I suppose it as unnecessary to saythat I felt profoundly ashamed of my late jealousy, which now seemedjust as absurd and unreasonable as, a moment before, it seemed justifiedand plausible. God protect the wretch who is the victim of thatevil-eyed passion! He who is jealous of circumstances, in the ordinarytransactions of life, usually makes a fool of himself, by seeing athousand facts that exist in his own brain only; but he whose jealousyis goaded on by love, must be something more than human, not to let thedevils get a firm grasp of his soul. I can give no better illustrationof the weakness that this last passion induces, however, than theadmission I have just made, that I believed it possible Ursula Malbone_could_ love Zephaniah Thousandacres, or whatever might be his realname. I have since pulled at my own hair, in rage at my own folly, asthat moment of weakness has recurred to my mind.
"She writes a desp'rate letter!" exclaimed the young squatter,stretching his large frame, like one who had lost command of hismovements through excitement. "I don't believe, major, the like of thatgal is to be found in York, taken as State or colony! I've a dreadfullikin' for her!"
It was impossible not to smile at this outpouring of attachment; nor, onthe whole, would I have been surprised at the ambition it inferred, hadthe youth been but a very little higher in the social scale. Out of thelarge towns, and with here and there an exception in favor of anisolated family, there is not, even to this day, much distinction inclasses among our eastern brethren. The great equality of condition andeducation that prevails, as a rule, throughout all the rural populationof New England, while it has done so much for the great body of theirpeople, has had its inevitable consequences in lowering the standard ofcultivation among the few, both as it is applied to acquirements, and tothe peculiar notions of castes; and nothing is more common in that partof the world, than to hear of marriages that elsewhere would have beenthought incongruous, for the simple reason of the difference in ordinaryhabits and sentiments between the parties. Thus it was, that Zephaniah,without doing as much violence to his own, as would be done to ournotions of the fitness of things, might aspire to the hand of UrsulaMalbone; unattended, as she certainly was, by any of the outward andmore vulgar signs of her real character. I could not but feel somerespect for the young man's taste, therefore, and this so much the morereadily, because I no longer was haunted by the very silly phantom ofhis possible success.
"Having this regard for Dus," I said, "I hope I may count on yourfollowing her directions."
"What way can I sarve you, major? I do vow, I've every wish to do asUrsula asks of me, if I only know'd how."
"You can undo the fastenings of our prison, here, and let us go at onceinto the woods, where we shall be safe enough against a recapture,depend on it. Do us that favor, and I will give you fifty acres of land,on which you can settle down and become an honest man. Remember, it willbe something honorable to own fifty acres of good land, in fee."
Zephaniah pondered on my tempting offer, and I could see that he waveredin opinion, but the decision was adverse to my wishes. He shook hishead, looked round wistfully at the woods where he supposed Dus then tobe, possibly watching his very movements, but he would not yield.
"If a father can't trust his own son, who can he trust, in natur'?"demanded the young squatter.
"No one should be aided in doing wrong, and your father has no justright to shut up us three, in this building, as he has done. The deed isagainst the law, and to the law, sooner or later, will he be made togive an account of it."
"Oh! as for the law, he cares little for _that_. We've been ag'inlaw all over lives, and the law is ag'in us. When a body comes totake the chance of jurors, and witnesses, and lawyers, and poorattorney-gin'rals, and careless prosecutors, law's no great matter tostand out ag'in in this country. I s'pose there is countries in whichlaw counts for suthin'; but hereabouts, and all through Varmount, wedon't kear much for the law, unless it's a matter between man and man,and t'other side holds out for his rights, bull-dog fashion. Then, Iallow, its suthin' to have the law on your side; but it's no greatmatter in a trespass case."
"This may not end in a trespass case, however. Your father--by the way,is Thousandacres much hurt?"
"Not much to speak on," coolly answered the son, still gazing in thedirection of the woods. "A little stunned, but he's gettin' over itfast, and he's used to sich rubs. Father's desp'rate solid about thehead, and can stand as much sledgehammering there, as any man I everseed. Tobit's tough, too, in that part; and he's need of it, for he'sforever getting licks around the forehead and eyes."
"And, as your father comes to, what seems to be his disposition towardus?"
"Nothin' to speak on, in the way of friendship, I can tell you! The oldman's considerable riled; and when that's the case, he'll have his ownway for all the governors and judges in the land!"
"Do you suppose he meditates any serious harm to his prisoners?"
"A man doesn't med
itate a great deal, I guess, with such a rap on theskull. He _feels_ a plaguy sight more than he _thinks_; and when thefeelin's is up, it doesn't matter much who's right and who's wrong. Thegreat difficulty in your matter is how to settle about the lumber that'sin the creek. The water's low; and the most that can be done with it,afore November, will to be float it down to the next rift, over which itcan never go, with any safety, without more water. It's risky to keepone like you, and to keep Chainbearer, too, three or four months, injail like; and it wunt do to let you go neither, sin' you'd soon havethe law a'ter us. If we keep you, too, there'll be a s'arch made, and areward offered. Now a good many of your tenants know of this clearin',and human natur' can't hold out ag'in a reward. The old man knows that_well_; and it's what he's most afeared on. We can stand up ag'in almostanything better than ag'in a good, smart reward."
I was amused as well as edified with Zephaniah's simplicity andfrankness, and would willingly have pursued the discourse, had notLowiny come tripping toward us, summoning her brother away to attend ameeting of the family; the old squatter having so far recovered as tocall a council of his sons. The brother left me on the instant, but thegirl lingered at my corner of the storehouse, like one who was reluctantto depart.
"I hope the hasty-puddin' was sweet and good," said Lowiny, casting atimid glance in at the chink.
"It was excellent, my good girl, and I thank you for it with all myheart. Are you very busy now?--can you remain a moment while I make arequest?"
"Oh! there's nothin' for me to do just now in the house, seem' thatfather has called the b'ys around him. Whenever he does that, evenmother is apt to quit."
"I am glad of it, as I think you are so kind-hearted and good that I maytrust you in a matter of some importance; may I not, my good Lowiny?"
"Squatters' da'ghters _may_ be good, then, a'ter all, in the eyes ofgrand landholders!"
"Certainly--_excellent_ even; and I am much disposed to believe that youare one of that class." Lowiny looked delighted; and I felt lessreluctance at administering this flattery than might otherwise have beenthe case, from the circumstance that so much of what I said was reallymerited.
"Indeed, I know you are, and quite unfitted for this sort of life. But Imust tell you my wishes at once, for our time may be very short."
"Do," said the girl, looking up anxiously, a slight blush suffusing herface; the truth-telling sign of ingenuous feelings, and the gage ofvirtue; "do, for I'm dying to hear it; as I know beforehand I shall dojust what you ask me to do. I don't know how it is, but when father ormother ask me to do a thing, I sometimes feel as if I couldn't; but Idon't feel so now, at all."
"My requests do not come often enough to tire you. Promise me, in thefirst place, to keep my secret."
"_That_ I will!" answered Lowiny, promptly, and with emphasis. "Not amortal soul shall know anything on't, and I won't so much as talk of itin my sleep, as I sometimes do, if I can any way help it."
"Chainbearer has a niece who is very dear to him, and who returns allhis affection. Her name is----"
"Dus Malbone," interrupted the girl, with a faint laugh. "Zeph has toldme all about her, for Zeph and I be great friends--_he_ tells meeverything, and _I_ tell him everything. It's sich a comfort, you can'tthink, to have somebody to tell secrets to;--well, what of Dus?"
"She is here."
"Here! I don't see anything on her"--looking round hurriedly, and, as Ifancied, in a little alarm--"Zeph says she's dreadful han'some!"
"She is thought so, I believe; though, in that respect, she is far frombeing alone. There is no want of pretty girls in America. By saying shewas here I did not mean here in the storehouse, but here in the woods.She accompanied her uncle as far as the edge of the clearing--lookround, more toward the east. Do you see the black stub, in thecornfield, behind your father's dwelling?"
"Sartain--that's plain enough to be seen--I wish I could see Albany asplain."
"Now look a little to the left of that stub, and you will see a largechestnut, in the edge of the woods behind it--the chestnut, I mean, thatthrusts its top out of the forest into the clearing, as it might be."
"Well, I see the chestnut, too, and I know it well. There's a spring ofwater cluss to its roots."
"At the foot of that chestnut Chainbearer left his niece, and doubtlessshe is somewhere near it now. Could you venture to stroll as far,without going directly to the spot, and deliver a message, or a letter?"
"To be sure I could! Why, we gals stroll about the lots as much as weplease, and it's berryin' time now. I'll run and get a basket, and youcan write your letter while I'm gone. La! Nobody will think anything ofmy goin' a berryin'--I have a desp'rate wish to see this Dus! Do youthink she'll have Zeph?"
"Young women's minds are so uncertain that I should not like to venturean opinion. If it were one of my own sex, now, and had declared hiswishes, I think I could tell you with some accuracy."
The girl laughed; then she seemed a little bewildered, and again shecolored. How the acquired--nay, _native_ feeling of the sex, will riseup in tell-tale ingenuousness to betray a woman!
"Well," she cried, as she ran away in quest of the basket, "to mynotion, a gal's mind is as true and as much to be depended on as that ofany mortal crittur' living!"
It was now my business to write a note to Dus. The materials for writingmy pocket-book furnished. I tore out a leaf, and approached Chainbearer,telling him what I was about to do, and desiring to know if he had anyparticular message to send.
"Gif t'e tear gal my plessin', Mortaunt. Tell her olt Chainpearer praysGot to pless her--t'at ist all. I leaf you to say t'e rest."
I did say the rest. In the first place I sent the blessing of the uncleto the niece. Then I explained, in as few words as possible, oursituation, giving it as promising an aspect as my conscience wouldpermit. These explanations made, I entreated Ursula to return to herbrother, and not again expose herself so far from his protection. Of theclose of this note I shall not say much. It was brief, but it let Dusunderstand that my feelings toward her were as lively as ever; and Ibelieve it was expressed with the power that passion lends. My note wasended just as Lowiny appeared to receive it. She brought us a pitcher ofmilk, as a sort of excuse for returning to the storehouse, received thenote in exchange, and hurried away toward the fields. As she passed oneof the cabins, I heard her calling out to a sister that she was goingfor blackberries to give the prisoners.
I watched the movements of that active girl with intense interest.Chainbearer, who had slept little since my disappearance, was making upfor lost time; and as for the Indian, eating and sleeping are verycustomary occupations of his race, when not engaged in some hunt, or onthe war-path, or as a runner.
Lowiny proceeded toward a lot of which the bushes had taken fullpossession. Here she soon disappeared, picking berries as she proceeded,with nimble fingers, as if she felt the necessity of having some of thefruit to show on her return. I kept my eye fastened on the openings ofthe forest, near the chestnut, as soon as the girl was concealed in thebushes, anxiously waiting for the moment when I might see her formreappearing at that spot. My attention was renewed by getting a glimpseof Dus. It was but a glimpse, the fluttering of a female dress glidingamong the trees; but, as it was too soon for the arrival of Lowiny, Iknew it must be Dus. This was cheering, as it left little reason todoubt that my messenger would find the object of her visit. In thecourse of half an hour after Lowiny entered the bushes I saw her,distinctly, near the foot of the chestnut. Pausing a moment, as if toreconnoitre, the girl suddenly moved into the forest, when I made nodoubt she and Dus had a meeting. An entire hour passed, and I saw nomore of Lowiny.
In the meanwhile Zephaniah made his appearance again at the side of thestorehouse. This time he came accompanied by two of his brethren,holding the key in his hand. At first I supposed the intention was toarraign me before the high court of Thousandacres, but in this I was inerror. No sooner did the young men reach the door of our prison thanZephaniah called out to the Onondago to approa
ch it, as he had somethingto say to him.
"It must be dull work to a redskin to be shut up like a hog afore it'swrung," said the youth, drawing his images from familiar objects; "and Is'pose you'd be right glad to come out here and walk about, somethinglike a free and rational crittur.' What do you say, Injin--is sich yourdesire?"
"Sartain," quietly answered Sureflint. "Great deal radder be out dan bein here."
"So I nat'rally s'posed. Well, the old man says you can come out onpromises, if you're disposed to make 'em. So you're master of your ownmovements, you see."
"What he want me do? What he want me to say, eh?"
"No great matter, a'ter all, if a body has only a mind to try to do it.In the first place, you're to give your parole not to go off; but tostay about the clearin', and to come in and give yourself up when theconch blows three short blasts. Will you agree to that, Sus?"
"Sartain--no go 'way; come back when he call--dat mean stay where he canhear conch."
"Well, that's agreed on, and it's a bargain. Next, you're to agree notto go pryin' round the mill and barn, to see what you can find, but keepaway from all the buildin's but the store'us' and the dwellings, and notto quit the clearin'. Do you agree?"
"Good; no hard to do dat."
"Well, you're to bring no weepons into the settlement, and to passnothing but words and food in to the other prisoners. Will you stand to_that_?"
"Sartain; willin' 'nough to do dat, too."
"Then you're in no manner or way to make war on any on us 'till yourparole is up, and you're your own man ag'in. What do you say to that,Trackless?"
"All good; 'gree to do him all."
"Wa-a-l, that's pretty much all the old man stands out for; but motherhas a condition or two that she insists on't I shall ask. Should theworst come to the worst, and the folks of this settlement get to blowswith the folks out of it, you're to bargain to take no scalps of womenor children, and none from any man that you don't overcome in openbattle. The old woman will grant you the scalps of men killed in battle,but thinks it ag'in reason to take 'em from sich as be not so overcome."
"Good; don't want to take scalp at all," answered the Indian, with anemotion he could not altogether suppress. "Got no tribe--got no youngmen; what good scalp do? Nobody care how many scalp Susquesus takeaway--how many he leave behind. All dat forgot long time."
"Wa-a-l, that's _your_ affair, not mine. But, as all the articles isagreed to, you can come out, and go about your business. Mind, threeshort, sharp blasts on the conch is the signal to come in and giveyourself up."
On this singular cartel Susquesus was set at liberty. I heard the wholearrangement with astonishment; though, by the manner of the highcontracting parties, it was easy to see there was nothing novel in thearrangement, so far as _they_ were concerned. I had heard that the faithof an Indian of any character, in all such cases, was considered sacred,and could not but ask myself, as Susquesus walked quietly out of prison,how many potentates and powers there were in Christendom who, undercircumstances similarly involving their most important interests, couldbe found to place a similar confidence in their fellows! Curious to knowhow my present masters felt on this subject, the opportunity wasimproved to question them.
"You give the Indian his liberty on parole," I said to Zephaniah--"willyou refuse the same privilege to us white men?"
"An Injin is an Injin. He has his natur', and we've our'n. Suthin' wassaid about lettin' you out, too, major; but the old man wouldn't hear toit. 'He know'd mankind,' he said, 'and he know'd t'would never do.' Ifyou let a white man loose, he sets his wits at work to find a hole tocreep out on the bargain--goin' back to the creation of the 'arth buthe'll find one. The major will say 'I was put in ag'in' law, and now I'mout, I'll stay out ag'in promises,' or some sich reasonin', and now wehave him safe, 'twill be best to keep him safe! That's the substance ofthe old man's idees, and you can see, major, just as well as any on us,how likely he'll be to change 'em."
There was no contending with this logic, which in secret I well knew tobe founded in fact, and I made no further application for my ownrelease. It appeared, however, that Thousandacres himself washalf-disposed to make a concession in favor of Chainbearer, similar tothat he had granted to the Indian. This struck me as singular, after therude collision that had already occurred between the two men--but thereare points of honor that are peculiar to each condition of life, andwhich the men of each feel a pride not only in causing to be respected,but in respecting themselves.
"Father had some thoughts of taking your parole, too, Chainbearer,"added Zephaniah, "and he concluded he would, hadn't it been that you'dbeen living out in the settlements so much of late years, that he's notquite easy in trusting you. A man that passes so much of his time inrunning boundaries, may think himself privileged to step over them."
"Your fat'er is welcome to his opinion," answered Andries, coolly."He'll get no parole of me, nor do I want any favors of him. We are atswords' p'ints, young man, and let him look out for himself and hislumper as pest he can."
"Nay," answered Zephaniah, stretching himself, and answering withspirit, though he well knew he was speaking to the uncle of Dus, andthereby endangering his interests with his mistress--"nay, Chainbearer,if it comes to _that_, 'twill be 'hardes fend off.' We are a strongparty of stout men, and arn't to be frightened by the crier of a court,or to be druv' off the land by sheep-skin. Catamounts must come ag'in usin droves, afore we'll give an inch."
"Go away, go away--foolish young fellow--you're your fat'er's son, andt'at's as much as neet pe said of you. I want no favors from squatters,which ist a preed I tetest and tespise."
I was a little surprised at hearing this answer, and at witnessing thismanifestation of feeling in Chainbearer, who, ordinarily, was a cool,and uniformly a courteous man. On reflection, however, I saw he was notso wrong. An exchange of anything like civilities between us and ourcaptors, might seem to give them some claim on us; whereas, by standingon the naked right, we had every advantage of them, in a moral sense, atleast. Zephaniah and his brethren left us, on receiving this repulse ofAndries; but Susquesus kept loitering around the storehouse, apparentlylittle better off now he was on its outside than he had been when in it.He had nothing to do, and his idleness was that of an Indian--one of arace of such terrible energies, when energy is required, and sofrequently listless, when not pressed upon by necessity, pleasure, waror interest.
Things were in this state, when, some time after the interview justrelated, we had another visit from a party headed by Tobit. This mancame to escort Chainbearer and myself to the cabin of Thousandacres,where all the men of the family were assembled; and where, as it nowappeared, we were to have something like a hearing that might seriouslyaffect our fates, for good or for evil. I consulted Chainbearer on thepropriety of our lending ourselves to such a measure; but I foundAndries disposed to meet the brood of squatters, face to face, and totell them his mind, let it be when and where it might. Finding my friendin this temper, I made no further objections myself, but left thestorehouse in his company, well guarded by four of the young men, all ofwhom were armed, holding our way to the seat of justice, in that wildand patriarchal government.