LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

      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 do, Mike?—Sago—Sago—grad you come—good fellow to drink Santa Cruz, wid Nick.”

      “How do, Mike!” exclaimed the other, looking at the Tuscarora with astonishment, for this was positively the first red man the Irishman had ever seen. “How do Mike! Ould Nick be ye?—well—ye look pretty much as I expected to see you—pray, how did ye come to know my name?”

      “Nick know him—know every t’ing. Grad to see you, Mike—hope we live together like good friend, down yonder, up here, over dere.”

      “Ye do, do ye! Divil burn me, now, if I want any sich company. Ould Nick’s yer name, is it?”

      “Old Nick—young Nick—saucy Nick; all one, all to’ther. Make no odd what you call; I come.”

      “Och, yer a handy one! Divil trust ye, but ye’ll come when you arn’t wanted, or yer not of yer father’s own family. D’ye live hereabouts, masther Ould Nick?”

      “Live here—out yonder—in he hut, in he wood—where he want. Make no difference to Nick.”

      Michael now drew back a pace or two, keeping his eyes fastened on the other intently, for he actually expected to see some prodigious and sudden change in his appearance. When he thought he had got a good position for manly defence or rapid retreat, as either might become necessary the county Leitrim-man put on a bolder front and resumed the discourse.

      “If it’s so indifferent to ye where ye dwell,” asked Mike, “why can’t you keep at home, and let a body carry these cloaks and bundles of the missuses, out yonder to the house wither she’s gone?”

      “Nick help carry ‘em. Carry t’ing for dat squaw hundred time.”

      “That what! D’ye mane Madam Willoughby by yer blackguard name?”

      “Yes; cap’in wife—cap’in squaw, mean him. Carry bundle, basket, hundred time for him.”

      “The Lord preserve me, now, from sich atrocity and impudence!” laying down the cloaks and bundles, and facing the Indian, with an appearance of great indignation—“Did a body ever hear sich a liar! Why, Misther Ould Nick, Madam Willoughby wouldn’t let the likes of ye touch the ind of her garments. You wouldn’t get the liberty to walk in the same path with her, much less to carry her bundles. I’ll answer for it, ye’re a great liar, now, ould Nick, in the bottom of your heart.”

      “Nick great liar,” answered the Indian, good-naturedly; for he so well knew this was his common reputation, that he saw no use in denying it. “What of dat? Lie good sometime.”

      “That’s another! Oh, ye animal; I’ve a great mind to set upon ye at once, and see what an honest man can do wid ye, in fair fight! If I only knew what ye’d got about yer toes, now, under them fine-looking things ye wear for shoes, once, I’d taich ye to talk of the missus, in this style.”

      “Speak as well as he know how. Nick never been to school. Call ‘e squaw, good squaw. What want more?”

      “Get out! If ye come a foot nearer, I’ll be at ye, like a dog upon a bull, though ye gore me. What brought ye into this paiceful sittlement, where nothing but virtue and honesty have taken up their abode?”

      What more Mike might have said is not known, as Nick caught a sign from the captain, and went loping across the flat, at his customary gait, leaving the Irishman standing on the defensive, and, to own the truth, not sorry to be rid of him. Unfortunately for the immediate enlightenment of Mike’s mind, Joel overheard the

Скачать книгу