The boy answered in the affirmative, and drawing close to the stranger's side pointed out to him, by the undulation of the ground and the gaps in the tree tops, the wavy line that the road followed, down the side of the gentle hill, saying: "By a white oak and a great hemlock tree, there is a footpath to the left; at a clump of large cedars on the edge of the swamp the road forks out to the right and left, one leading eastward toward the river, and one out westward to the hunting grounds."
The stranger seemed to listen to him with pleasure, often turning his eyes to the lad's face as he spoke, rather than to the landscape to which he pointed; and when he had done he laid his hand on his shoulder, saying, "I wish I had such a guide as you, Walter, for my onward journey."
"Will it be far?" asked the youth.
"Good faith, I cannot well tell," answered the other. "It may be as far as Montreal, or even to Quebec, if I get not satisfaction soon."
"I could not guide you as far as that," replied the boy, "but I know every step toward the lakes, as well as an Indian."
"With whom he is very fond of consorting," said his father, with a smile.
But before the conversation could proceed farther, an elderly, respectable woman servant entered the room and announced that supper was on the table. Edith had not returned, but they found her in a large, oblong chamber to which the master of the house led the way. There was a long table in the midst, and four wooden chairs arranged round one end, over which a snowy tablecloth was spread. The rest of the table was bare, but there were a number of other seats and two or three benches in the room, while at equal distances on either side, touching the walls, lay a number of bear and buffalo skins, as if spread out for beds.
The eye of the stranger glanced over them as he entered, but his host replied to his thoughts, with a smile: "We will lodge you somewhat better than that, sir. We have, just now, more than one room vacant; but you must know there is no such thing as privacy in this land, and when we have any invasion of our Indian friends those skins make them supremely happy. I often smile to think how a redman would feel in Holland sheets. I tried it once, but it did not succeed. He pulled the blankets off the bed and slept upon the floor."
Seated at the table, the conversation turned to many subjects, general, of course, but yet personally interesting to both the elder members of the party.
More than an hour was beguiled at the table--a longer period than ordinary--and then the bright purple hues which spread over the eastern wall of the room, opposite the windows, told that the autumnal sun had reached the horizon. The master of the house rose to lead the way into another room again, but ere he moved from the table another figure was added to the group around it, though the foot was so noiseless that no one heard its entrance into the chamber.
The person who had joined the little party was a man of middle age, of a tall, commanding figure, upright and dignified carriage, and fine, but somewhat strongly marked features. The expression of his countenance was grave and noble, but yet there was a certain strangeness in it--a touch of wildness, perhaps I might call it--very difficult to define. It was not in the eyes, for they were good, calm, and steadfast, gazing straight at any object of contemplation, and fixed full upon the face of anyone he addressed. It was not in the lips, for, except when speaking, they were firm and motionless. Perhaps it was in the eyebrow, which, thick and strongly marked, was occasionally suddenly raised or depressed, without apparent cause.
His dress was very strange. He was evidently of European blood, although his skin was embrowned by much exposure to sun and weather. But yet he wore not altogether the European costume, the garb of the American backwoodsman, or that of the Indian. There was a mixture of all, which gave him a wild and fantastic appearance. His coat was evidently English, and had straps of gold lace upon the shoulders; his knee breeches and high riding boots would have looked English, also, had not the latter been destitute of soles, properly so called; for they were made somewhat like a stocking, and the part beneath the foot was of the same leather as the rest. Over his shoulder was a belt of rattlesnake skin, and round his waist a sort of girdle, formed from the claws of the bear, from which depended a string of wampum, while two or three knives and a small tomahawk appeared on either side. No other weapons had he whatever. But under his left arm hung a common powder flask, made of cow's horn, and beside it, a sort of wallet, such as trappers commonly used for carrying their little store of Indian corn. A round fur cap of bearskin, without any ornament whatever, completed his habiliments.
It would seem that in that house he was well known, for its master instantly held forth his hand to him, and the young people sprang forward and greeted him warmly. A full minute elapsed before he spoke, but nobody uttered a word till he did so, all seeming to understand his habits.
"Well, Mr. Prevost," he said, at length, "I have been a stranger to your wigwam for some time. How art thou, Walter? Not a man yet, in spite of all thou canst do? Edith, my sweet lady, time deals differently with thee from thy brother. He makes thee a woman against thy will." Then turning suddenly to the stranger, he said: "Sir, I am glad to see you. Were you ever at Kielmansegge?"
"Once," replied the stranger, laconically.
"Then we will confer presently," replied the newcomer. "How have you been this many a day, Mr. Prevost? You must give me food, for I have ridden far. I will have that bearskin, too, for my night's lodging place, if it be not pre-engaged. No, not that one, the next. I have told Agrippa to see to my horse, for I ever count upon your courtesy."
There was something extremely stately and dignified in his whole tone, and with frank straightforwardness, but without any indecorous haste, he seated himself at the table, drew toward him a large dish of cold meat, and while Edith and her brother hastened to supply him with everything else he needed, proceeded to help himself liberally to whatever was within his reach. Not a word more did he speak for several minutes, while Mr. Prevost and his guest stood looking on in silence, and the two young people attended the newcomer at the table.
As soon as he had done he rose abruptly, and then, looking first to Mr. Prevost, and next to the stranger, said: "Now, gentlemen, if you please, we will to council."
The stranger hesitated, and Mr. Prevost answered, with a smile: "I am not of the initiated, Sir William; but I and the children will leave you with my guest, whom you seem to know, but of whose name[1] and station I am ignorant."
"Stay! stay!" replied the other, to whom he spoke. "We shall need not only your advice but your concurrence. This gentleman I will answer for as a faithful and loyal subject of his majesty King George. He has been treated with that hardest of all treatments--neglect. But his is a spirit in which not even neglect can drown out loyalty to his king and love to his country. Moreover, I may say, that the neglect which he has met with has proceeded from a deficiency in his own nature. God, unfortunately, did not make him a grumbler, or he would have been a peer long ago. The Almighty endowed him with all the qualities that could benefit his fellow creatures, but denied him those which were necessary to advance himself. Others have wondered that he never met with honors, or distinction, or reward. I wonder not at all; for he is neither a charlatan, nor a coxcomb, nor a pertinacious beggar. He cannot stoop to slabber the hand of power, nor lick the spittle of the man in office. How can such a man have advancement? It is contrary to the course of the things of this world. But as he has loved his fellow men, so will he love them. As he has served his country, so will he serve it. As he has sought honor and truth more than promotion, honor and truth will be his reward--alas! that it should be the only one. But when he dies, if he dies unrecompensed, it will not be unregretted, or unvenerated. He must be of our council."
Mr. Prevost had stood by in silence, with his eyes bent upon the ground. But Edith sprang forward and caught Sir William Johnson's hand as he ended the praises of her father, and bending her head with exquisite grace, pressed her lips upon it. Her brother seemed inclined to linger for a moment, but saying, "Come, Walter," she glided out of the room, and the young lad, following, closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER II
"Who