The Prairie (20 page)

The lip of the youth slightly curled, and he regarded the old man with
an expression, which might easily have been construed into a declaration
that such were not his own recollections of his venerable and revered
ancestor, though it would seem he did not think it necessary to say as
much in words. He was content to answer—

"They both retained impressions of the dangers they had passed, by
far too vivid easily to lose the recollection of any of their
fellow-actors."

The trapper looked aside, and seemed to struggle with some deeply innate
feeling; then, turning again towards his companion, though his honest
eyes no longer dwelt with the same open interest, as before, on the
countenance of the other, he continued—

"Did he tell you of them all? Were they all red-skins, but himself and
the daughters of Munro?"

"No. There was a white man associated with the Delawares. A scout of the
English army, but a native of the provinces."

"A drunken worthless vagabond, like most of his colour who harbour with
the savages, I warrant you!"

"Old man, your grey hairs should caution you against slander. The man I
speak of was of great simplicity of mind, but of sterling worth. Unlike
most of those who live a border life, he united the better, instead of
the worst, qualities of the two people. He was a man endowed with the
choicest and perhaps rarest gift of nature; that of distinguishing good
from evil. His virtues were those of simplicity, because such were the
fruits of his habits, as were indeed his very prejudices. In courage
he was the equal of his red associates; in warlike skill, being better
instructed, their superior. 'In short, he was a noble shoot from the
stock of human nature, which never could attain its proper elevation and
importance, for no other reason, than because it grew in the forest:'
such, old hunter, were the very words of my grandfather, when speaking
of the man you imagine so worthless!"

The eyes of the trapper had sunk to the earth, as the stranger delivered
this character in the ardent tones of generous youth. He played with the
ears of his hound; fingered his own rustic garment, and opened and shut
the pan of his rifle, with hands that trembled in a manner that would
have implied their total unfitness to wield the weapon. When the other
had concluded, he hoarsely added—

"Your grand'ther didn't then entirely forget the white man!"

"So far from that, there are already three among us, who have also names
derived from that scout."

"A name, did you say?" exclaimed the old man, starting; "what, the name
of the solitary, unl'arned hunter? Do the great, and the rich, and the
honoured, and, what is better still, the just, do they bear his very,
actual name?"

"It is borne by my brother, and by two of my cousins, whatever may be
their titles to be described by the terms you have mentioned."

"Do you mean the actual name itself; spelt with the very same letters,
beginning with an N and ending with an L?"

"Exactly the same," the youth smilingly replied. "No, no, we have
forgotten nothing that was his. I have at this moment a dog brushing a
deer, not far from this, who is come of a hound that very scout sent as
a present after his friends, and which was of the stock he always used
himself: a truer breed, in nose and foot, is not to be found in the wide
Union."

"Hector!" said the old man, struggling to conquer an emotion that nearly
suffocated him, and speaking to his hound in the sort of tones he would
have used to a child, "do ye hear that, pup! your kin and blood are in
the prairies! A name—it is wonderful—very wonderful!"

Nature could endure no more. Overcome by a flood of unusual and
extraordinary sensations, and stimulated by tender and long dormant
recollections, strangely and unexpectedly revived, the old man had just
self-command enough to add, in a voice that was hollow and unnatural,
through the efforts he made to command it—

"Boy, I am that scout; a warrior once, a miserable trapper now!" when
the tears broke over his wasted cheeks, out of fountains that had long
been dried, and, sinking his face between his knees, he covered it
decently with his buckskin garment, and sobbed aloud.

The spectacle produced correspondent emotions in his companions. Paul
Hover had actually swallowed each syllable of the discourse as they fell
alternately from the different speakers, his feelings keeping equal
pace with the increasing interest of the scene. Unused to such strange
sensations, he was turning his face on every side of him, to avoid he
knew not what, until he saw the tears and heard the sobs of the old
man, when he sprang to his feet, and grappling his guest fiercely by
the throat, he demanded by what authority he had made his aged companion
weep. A flash of recollection crossing his brain at the same instant, he
released his hold, and stretching forth an arm in the very wantonness
of gratification, he seized the Doctor by the hair, which instantly
revealed its artificial formation, by cleaving to his hand, leaving the
white and shining poll of the naturalist with a covering no warmer than
the skin.

"What think you of that, Mr. Bug-gatherer?" he rather shouted than
cried: "is not this a strange bee to line into his hole?"

"'Tis remarkable! wonderful! edifying!" returned the lover of nature,
good-humouredly recovering his wig, with twinkling eyes and a husky
voice. "'Tis rare and commendable. Though I doubt not in the exact order
of causes and effects."

With this sudden outbreaking, however, the commotion instantly subsided;
the three spectators clustering around the trapper with a species of
awe, at beholding the tears of one so aged.

"It must be so, or how could he be so familiar with a history that is
little known beyond my own family," at length the youth observed, not
ashamed to acknowledge how much he had been affected, by unequivocally
drying his own eyes.

"True!" echoed Paul; "if you want any more evidence I will swear to it!
I know every word of it myself to be true as the gospel!"

"And yet we had long supposed him dead!" continued the soldier. "My
grandfather had filled his days with honour, and he had believed himself
the junior of the two."

"It is not often that youth has an opportunity of thus looking down
on the weakness of age!" the trapper observed, raising his head, and
looking around him with composure and dignity. "That I am still here,
young man, is the pleasure of the Lord, who has spared me until I have
seen fourscore long and laborious years, for his own secret ends. That
I am the man I say, you need not doubt; for why should I go to my grave
with so cheap a lie in my mouth?"

"I do not hesitate to believe; I only marvel that it should be so! But
why do I find you, venerable and excellent friend of my parents, in
these wastes, so far from the comforts and safety of the lower country?"

"I have come into these plains to escape the sound of the axe; for here
surely the chopper can never follow! But I may put the like question to
yourself. Are you of the party which the States have sent into their new
purchase, to look after the natur' of the bargain they have made?"

"I am not. Lewis is making his way up the river, some hundreds of miles
from this. I come on a private adventure."

"Though it is no cause of wonder, that a man whose strength and eyes
have failed him as a hunter, should be seen nigh the haunts of the
beaver, using a trap instead of a rifle, it is strange that one so young
and prosperous, and bearing the commission of the Great Father, should
be moving among the prairies, without even a camp-colourman to do his
biddings!"

"You would think my reasons sufficient did you know them, as know them
you shall if you are disposed to listen to my story. I think you all
honest, and men who would rather aid than betray one bent on a worthy
object."

"Come, then, and tell us at your leisure," said the trapper, seating
himself, and beckoning to the youth to follow his example. The latter
willingly complied; and after Paul and the Doctor had disposed of
themselves to their several likings, the new comer entered into a
narrative of the singular reasons which had led him so far into the
deserts.

So foul a sky clears not without a storm.
—King John.

In the mean time the industrious and irreclaimable hours continued
their labours. The sun, which had been struggling through such masses
of vapour throughout the day, fell slowly in a streak of clear sky, and
thence sunk gloriously into the gloomy wastes, as he is wont to settle
into the waters of the ocean. The vast herds which had been grazing
among the wild pastures of the prairies, gradually disappeared, and
the endless flocks of aquatic birds, that were pursuing their customary
annual journey from the virgin lakes of the north towards the gulf of
Mexico, ceased to fan that air, which had now become loaded with dew and
vapour. In short, the shadows of night fell upon the rock, adding the
mantle of darkness to the other dreary accompaniments of the place.

As the light began to fail, Esther collected her younger children at
her side, and placing herself on a projecting point of her insulated
fortress, she sat patiently awaiting the return of the hunters. Ellen
Wade was at no great distance, seeming to keep a little aloof from the
anxious circle, as if willing to mark the distinction which existed in
their characters.

"Your uncle is, and always will be, a dull calculator, Nell," observed
the mother, after a long pause in a conversation that had turned on the
labours of the day; "a lazy hand at figures and foreknowledge is that
said Ishmael Bush! Here he sat lolloping about the rock from light till
noon, doing nothing but scheme—scheme—scheme—with seven as noble boys
at his elbows as woman ever gave to man; and what's the upshot? why,
night is setting in, and his needful work not yet ended."

"It is not prudent, certainly, aunt," Ellen replied, with a vacancy in
her air, that proved how little she knew what she was saying; "and it is
setting a very bad example to his sons."

"Hoity, toity, girl! who has reared you up as a judge over your elders,
ay, and your betters, too! I should like to see the man on the whole
frontier, who sets a more honest example to his children than this
same Ishmael Bush! Show me, if you can, Miss Fault-finder, but not
fault-mender, a set of boys who will, on occasion, sooner chop a piece
of logging and dress it for the crop, than my own children; though I
say it myself, who, perhaps, should be silent; or a cradler that knows
better how to lead a gang of hands through a field of wheat, leaving a
cleaner stubble in his track, than my own good man! Then, as a father,
he is as generous as a lord; for his sons have only to name the
spot where they would like to pitch, and he gives 'em a deed of the
plantation, and no charge for papers is ever made!"

As the wife of the squatter concluded, she raised a hollow, taunting
laugh, that was echoed from the mouths of several juvenile imitators,
whom she was training to a life as shiftless and lawless as her own;
but which, notwithstanding its uncertainty, was not without its secret
charms.

"Holloa! old Eester;" shouted the well-known voice of her husband, from
the plain beneath; "ar' you keeping your junkets, while we are finding
you in venison and buffaloe beef? Come down—come down, old girl, with
all your young; and lend us a hand to carry up the meat;—why, what
a frolic you ar' in, woman! Come down, come down, for the boys are at
hand, and we have work here for double your number."

Ishmael might have spared his lungs more than a moiety of the effort
they were compelled to make in order that he should be heard. He had
hardly uttered the name of his wife, before the whole of the crouching
circle rose in a body, and tumbling over each other, they precipitated
themselves down the dangerous passes of the rock with ungovernable
impatience. Esther followed the young fry with a more measured gait;
nor did Ellen deem it wise, or rather discreet, to remain behind.
Consequently, the whole were soon assembled at the base of the citadel,
on the open plain.

Here the squatter was found, staggering under the weight of a fine
fat buck, attended by one or two of his younger sons. Ahiram quickly
appeared, and before many minutes had elapsed, most of the hunters
dropped in, singly and in pairs, each man bringing with him some fruits
of his prowess in the field.

"The plain is free from red-skins, to-night at least," said Ishmael,
after the bustle of reception had a little subsided; "for I have scoured
the prairie for many long miles, on my own feet, and I call myself a
judge of the print of an Indian moccasin. So, old woman, you can give us
a few steaks of the venison, and then we will sleep on the day's work."

"I'll not swear there are no savages near us," said Abiram. "I, too,
know something of the trail of a red-skin; and, unless my eyes have lost
some of their sight, I would swear, boldly, that there ar' Indians at
hand. But wait till Asa comes in. He pass'd the spot where I found the
marks, and the boy knows something of such matters too."

"Ay, the boy knows too much of many things," returned Ishmael, gloomily.
"It will be better for him when he thinks he knows less. But what
matters it, Hetty, if all the Sioux tribes, west of the big river, are
within a mile of us; they will find it no easy matter to scale this
rock, in the teeth of ten bold men."

"Call 'em twelve at once, Ishmael; call 'em twelve!" cried his termagant
assistant. "For if your moth-gathering, bug-hunting friend, can be
counted a man, I beg you will set me down as two. I will not turn my
back to him, with the rifle or the shot-gun; and for courage!—the
yearling heifer, that them skulking devils the Tetons stole, was the
biggest coward among us all, and after her came your drivelling Doctor.
Ah! Ishmael, you rarely attempt a regular trade but you come out the
loser; and this man, I reckon, is the hardest bargain among them all!
Would you think it, the fellow ordered me a blister around my mouth,
because I complained of a pain in the foot?"