The Pioneers (25 page)

“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 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 contradictory nature of his emotions, he suddenly burst out of the house, and was seen wading through the snow towards 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 time during his visit as he lifted the mug and observed:

“Ter Frenchman is mat—put he is goot as for notting to trink; he is trunk mit joy.”

“The French are good soldiers,” said Captain Hollister; “they stood us in hand a good turn, down at York-town; 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 trut', 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 rig'lers 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 overpartic'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 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, 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 yee'd be wanting that same,” said the landlady; “it's mixt and ready to the boiling. Sargeant, dear, be handing up the iron, will ye?—no, the one in 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:
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.

“Pravo! pravo! Richart,” cried the Major, whose black eyes were beginning to swim in moisture. “Pravissimo! It is a goot song; put Natty Pumppo hast a petter. Letterstockint, vilt sing? Say, olt poy, vilt sing ter song, as apout ter woots?”

“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 adry, 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, Leatherstocking 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 barroom, coupled with the depth and frequency of Richard's draughts, had already leveled 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 towards the hunter, as he cried:

“Merry! Ay! Merry Christmas to you, old boy! Sunshine and summer! No! You are blind, Leatherstocking, 'tis moonshine and winter; take these spectacles and open your eyes:

“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.”

“Hawkeye,” 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 whippoorwill'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 towards 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 time 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 sowed up. Give him a berth, Captain, in the barn, and I will pay for it. I am rich tonight, ten times richer than 'duke, with all his lands, and military lots, and funded debts, and bonds, and mortgages.

Drink, King Hiram—drink, Mr. Doonothing—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 tonight,” said Hiram, whose visage began to give marvelous 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, and 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, wil't 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 meantime, 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,

ANONYMOUS

 

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.