In the first place, he directed the men to build a massive wall of stone, for a hundred and fifty feet in length, and six feet in height. This stretched in front of the perpendicular rock, with receding walls to its verge. The latter were about two hundred feet in length, each. This was enclosing an area of two hundred, by one hundred and fifty feet, within a blind wall of masonry. Through this wall there was only a single passage; a gateway, in the centre of its southern face. The materials had all been found on the hill itself, which was well covered with heavy stones. Within this wall, which was substantially laid, by a Scotch mason, one accustomed to the craft, the men had erected a building of massive, squared, pine timber, well secured by cross partitions. This building followed the wall in its whole extent, was just fifteen feet in elevation, without the roof, and was composed, in part, by the wall itself; the latter forming nearly one-half its height, on the exterior. The breadth of this edifice was only twenty feet, clear of the stones and wood-work; leaving a court within of about one hundred by one hundred and seventy-five feet in extent. The roof extended over the gateway even; so that the space within was completely covered, the gates being closed. This much had been done during the preceding fall and winter; the edifice presenting an appearance of rude completeness on the exterior. Still it had a sombre and goal-like air, there being nothing resembling a window visible; no aperture, indeed, on either of its outer faces, but the open gateway, of which the massive leaves were finished, and placed against the adjacent walls, but which were not yet hung. It is scarcely necessary to say, this house resembled barracks, more than an ordinary dwelling. Mrs. Willoughby stood gazing at it, half in doubt whether to admire or to condemn, when a voice, within a few yards, suddenly drew her attention in another direction.
"How you like him?" asked Nick, who was seated on a stone, at the margin of the stream, washing his feet, after a long day's hunt. "No t'ink him better dan beaver skin? Cap'in know all 'bout him; now he give Nick some more last quit-rent?"
"Last, indeed, it will be, then, Nick; for I have already paid you twice for your rights."
"Discovery wort' great deal, cap'in--see what great man he make pale-face."
"Ay, but your discovery, Nick, is not of that sort."
"What sort, den?" demanded Nick, with the rapidity of lightning. "Give him back 'e beaver, if you no like he discovery. Grad to see 'em back, ag'in; skin higher price dan ever."
"Nick, you're a cormorant, if there ever was one in this world! Here--there is a dollar for you; the quit-rent is paid for this year, at least. It ought to be for the last time."
"Let him go for all summer, cap'in. Yes, Nick wonderful commerant! no such eye he got, among Oneida!"
Here the Tuscarora left the side of the stream, and came up on the rock, shaking hands, good-humouredly, with Mrs. Willoughby, who rather liked the knave; though she knew him to possess most of the vices of his class.
"He very han'som beaver-dam," said Nick, sweeping his hand gracefully over the view; "bye 'nd bye, he'll bring potatoe, and corn, and cider--all 'e squaw want. Cap'in got good fort, too. Old soldier love fort; like to live in him."
"The day may come, Nick, when that fort may serve us all a good turn, out here in the wilderness," Mrs. Willoughby observed, in a somewhat melancholy tone; for her tender thoughts naturally turned towards her youthful and innocent daughters.
The Indian gazed at the house, with that fierce intentness which sometimes glared, in a manner that had got to be, in its ordinary aspects, dull and besotted. There was a startling intelligence in his eye, at such moments; the feelings of youth and earlier habit, once more asserting their power. Twenty years before, Nick had been foremost on the war-path; and what was scarcely less honourable, among the wisest around the council-fire. He was born a chief, and had made himself an outcast from his tribe, more by the excess of ungovernable passions, than from any act of base meanness.
"Cap'm tell Nick, now, what he mean by building such house, out here, among ole beaver bones?" he said, sideling up nearer to his employer, and gazing with some curiosity into his face.
"What do I mean, Nick?--Why I mean to have a place of safety to put the heads of my wife and children in, at need. The road to Canada is not so long, but a red-skin can make one pair of moccasins go over it. Then, the Oneidas and Mohawks are not all children of heaven."
"No pale-face rogue, go about, I s'pose?" said Nick, sarcastically.
"Yes, there are men of that class, who are none the worse for being locked out of one's house, at times. But, what do you think of the hut?--You know I call the place the 'Hut,' the Hutted Knoll."
"He hole plenty of beaver, if you cotch him!--But no water left, and he all go away. Why you make him stone, first; den you make him wood, a'ter; eh? Plenty rock; plenty tree."
"Why, the stone wall can neither be cut away, nor set fire to, Nick; that's the reason. I took as much stone as was necessary, and then used wood, which is more easily worked, and which is also drier."
"Good--Nick t'ought just dat. How you get him water if Injen come?"
"There's the stream, that winds round the foot of the hill, Nick, as you see; and then there is a delicious spring, within one hundred yards of the very gate."
"Which side of him?" asked Nick, with his startling rapidity.
"Why, here, to the left of the gate, and a little to the right of the large stone--"
"No--no," interrupted the Indian, "no left--no right--which side--inside gate; outside gate?"
"Oh!--the spring is outside the gate, certainly; but means might be found to make a covered way to it; and then the stream winds round directly underneath the rocks, behind the house, and wafer could be raised from that, by means of a rope. Our rifles would count for something, too, in drawing water, as well as in drawing blood."
"Good.--Rifle got long arm. He talk so, Ingin mind him. When you t'ink red-skin come ag'in your fort, cap'in, now you got him done?"
"A long time first, I hope, Nick. We are at peace with France, again; and I see no prospect of any new quarrel, very soon. So long as the French and English are at peace, the red men will not dare to touch either."
"Dat true as missionary! What a soldier do, cap'in, if so much peace? Warrior love a war-path."
"I wish it were not so, Nick. But my hatchet is buried, I hope, for ever."
"Nick hope cap'in know where to find him, if he want to? Very bad to put anyt'ing where he forget; partic'larly tomahawk. Sometime quarrel come, like rain, when you don't tink."
"Yes, that also cannot be denied. Yet, I fear the next quarrel will be among ourselves, Nick.--The government at home, and the people of the colonies, are getting to have bad blood between them."
"Dat very queer! Why pale-face mo'der and pale-face darter no love one anoder, like red-skin?"
"Really, Nick, you are somewhat interrogating this evening; but, my squaw must be a little desirous of seeing the inside of her house, as well as its outside, and I must refer you to that honest fellow, yonder, for an answer. His name is Mike; I hope he and you will always be good friends."
So saying, the captain nodded in a friendly manner, and led Mrs. Willoughby towards the hut, taking a foot-path that was already trodden firm, and which followed the sinuosities of the stream, to which it served as a sort of a dyke. Nick took the captain at his word, and turning about he met the county Leitrim-man, with an air of great blandness, thrusting out a hand, in the pale-face fashion, as a sign of amity, saying, at the same time--
"How