The negro woman shook her head, and looked sorrowful, and sighed, but said 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 receding figures were hidden by the trees. Then the master of the house led Edith back, saying: "God will protect him, my child. A parent was not given to crush the energies of youth, but to direct them."
In the meanwhile, Lord H---- and his guide, Captain Brooks, according to his English name, or Woodchuck, in the Indian parlance, followed by Walter Prevost, made their way rapidly and easily through the wood. The two former were dressed in the somewhat anomalous attire which I have described in first introducing the worthy Captain to the reader; but Walter was in the ordinary costume of the people of the province of that day, except inasmuch as he had his rifle in his hand and a large leathern wallet slung over his left shoulder. Each of his companions, too, had a rifle hung across the back by a broad leathern 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 were consequently obliged to walk singly, the one following the other, yet Woodchuck, who led the way, had no difficulty in finding it, or in proceeding steadily.
We are told by an old writer of those days, who, unlike many modern writers, witnessed all he described with his own eyes, that the Indian trails, or footpaths, were innumerable over that large tract of country which the Five Nations called their "Long House," crossing and recrossing each other in every different direction, sometimes almost lost where the ground was hard and dry, sometimes indenting by the repeated pressure of many feet, the natural soil to the depth of thirty-six or forty inches.
It was along one of these that the travelers were passing, and although a stump here and there, or a young tree springing up in the midst of a trail, offered an occasional impediment, it was rarely of such a nature as to retard the travelers in their course, or materially add to their fatigue.
With the calm assurance and unhesitating rapidity of a practised woodsman, Brooks led his two companions forward without doubt as to his course. No great light had he, it is true, for though the sun was actually above the horizon, and now and then his slanting rays found their way through some more open space, and gilded the pathway, in general the thick trees and underwood formed a shade which at that early hour the light could hardly penetrate, and the sober morning was to these travelers still dressed almost in the dark hues of night.
"Set your steps in mine," said Woodchuck, speaking in a whisper over his shoulder to Lord H----, "then we shall be real Indians. Don't you know that when they go out on the war path, as they call it, each man puts down his foot just where his leader put down his before? So, come dog, come cat, no one can tell how many went to Jack Pilberry'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," answered Woodchuck, with a laugh, "but no more danger here than in Prevost's cottage, from either the one or the other, for you or for Walter. As for me, I am safe anywhere."
"But you are taking strange precautions where there is no danger," replied Lord H----, who could not banish all doubts of his wild companion. "You speak in whispers, and advise us to follow all the cunning devices of the Indians in a wood which we passed through fearlessly yesterday."
"I am just as fearless now as you were then, if you passed through this wood," answered Brooks, in a graver tone, "but you are not a woodsman, or you'd understand better. What I mean, sir, is that we are so often in danger, we think it best to act as if we were always in it; and never knowing how near it may be, to make as sure as we can that we keep it at a distance. You cannot tell there is not an Indian in every bush you pass, and yet you'd chatter as loud as if you were in any lady's drawing-room. But I, though I know there is ne'er a one, don't speak louder than a grasshopper's hind legs, for fear I would get into the habit of talking loud in the forest."
"There is some truth, my friend, I believe in what you say," replied Lord H----, "but I hear a sound growing louder and louder as we advance. It is the cataract, I suppose."
"Yes, just the waterfall," answered the other, in an indifferent tone. "Down half a mile below it Master Walter will find the boat that will take him to Albany. Then you and I can snake up by the side of the river till we have gone as far as we have a mind to. I shouldn't wonder if we got a shot at somewhat on four, a moose or a painter, or a looksevere, or something of that kind. Pity we haven't got a canoe or a batteau, or something to put our game in."
"In heaven's name, what do you call a looksevere?" asked Lord H----.
"Why, the French folks call it a loup-cervier," answered Brooks. "I guess you never saw one. But he is not as pleasant as a pretty maid in a by-place, is he, Walter? He puts himself up into a tree, and there he watches, looking full asleep; but with the devil that is in him moving every joint of his tail the moment he hears anything come trotting along; and when it is just under him down he drops upon it plump, like a rifle shot into a pumpkin."
The conversation then fell off into a word or two spoken now and then, and the voice of the waters grew loud and more loud until Lord H---- could hardly hear his own footfalls. The more practised ear of Brooks, however, caught every sound, and at length he exclaimed: "What's alive? Why are you cocking your rifle, Walter?"
"Hush!" said the lad, "there is something stealing on there, just behind the bushes. It is an Indian, I think, going on all fours. Look quietly out there."
"More likely a bear," replied Woodchuck, in the same low tone which the other had used. "I see--I see. It's not a bear either, but it's not an Indian. It's gone--no, there it is again. Hold hard--let him climb. It's a painter. Here, Walter, come up in front--you shall have him. The cur smells fresh meat. He'll climb in an instant. There he goes--no, the critter'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 ahead. Mind, take the middle trail all along, and look up at the branches, or you may have him on your head. There, he's heading south. Quick, Walter, quick!"
Lord H---- had as yet seen nothing of the object discovered by the eyes of his two companions, but he had sufficient of the sportsman in his nature to enter into all their eagerness, and unslinging his rifle he followed the path or trail along which they had been proceeding, while Walter Prevost darted away into the tangled bushes on his right, and Woodchuck stole more quietly in amongst the trees on his left. He could hear the branches rustle, and for nearly a quarter of a mile could trace their course on either side of him by the various 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 it was at a spot peculiarly dark, and he did not feel at all sure that fancy had not deceived him.
The roar of the cataract in the meantime increased each moment, and it was evident to the young nobleman that he and his companions, on their different courses, were approaching more and more closely to some large stream, toward which it was the plan of good Captain Brooks to force the object of their pursuit. At length, too, the light became stronger, and he heard the report of a rifle, then a fierce, snarling sound, and then a shout from Walter 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 of him; and the lad soon heard his approach, and guided him by his voice, calling, "Here! here!" There was no alarm or agitation in his tones--they were rather those of triumph; and a moment after, as he caught sight of his friend coming forward, he added: "He's a splendid beast. I must have the skin off him."
Lord H---- drew nigh, somewhat relaxing his speed when he found there was no danger, and in another minute he was by the side of the lad, who was quietly recharging his rifle, while at some six or seven yards distance lay a large panther of the American species, mortally wounded, and quite powerless of evil, but