Wyandotté; Or, The Hutted Knoll: A Tale. James Fenimore Cooper
some important news!"
"The tricks of Saucy Nick are too well known to deceive any here," observed Mrs. Willoughby, who, surrounded by her husband and children, always felt so happy as to deprecate every appearance of danger.
"These savages will keep that pace for hours at a time," observed the chaplain; "a circumstance that has induced some naturalists to fancy a difference in the species, if not in the genus."
"Is he chub or tom-cod, Woods?" asked the captain, throwing back on the other all he recollected of the previous discourse.
"Nay," observed Mrs. Willoughby, anxiously, "I do think he may have some intelligence! It is now more than a twelvemonth since we have seen Nick."
"It is more than twice twelvemonth, my dear; I have not seen the fellow's face since I denied him the keg of rum for his 'discovery' of another beaver pond. He has tried to sell me a new pond every season since the purchase of this."
"Do you think he took serious offence, Hugh, at that refusal? If so, would it not be better to give him what he asks?"
"I have thought little about it, and care less, my dear. Nick and I know each other pretty well. It is an acquaintance of thirty years' standing, and one that has endured trials by flood and field, and even by the horse-whip. No less than three times have I been obliged to make these salutary applications to Nick's back, with my own hands; though it is, now, more than ten years since a blow has passed between us."
"Does a savage ever forgive a blow?" asked the chaplain, with a grave air, and a look of surprise.
"I fancy a savage is quite as apt to forgive it, as a civilized man, Woods. To you, who have served so long in His Majesty's army, a blow, in the way of punishment, can be no great novelty."
"Certainly not, as respects the soldiers; but I did not know Indians were ever flogged."
"That is because you never happened to be present at the ceremony--but, this is Nick, sure enough; and by his trot I begin to think the fellow has some message, or news."
"How old is the man, captain? Does an Indian never break down?"
"Nick must be fairly fifty, now. I have known him more than half that period, and he was an experienced, and, to own the truth, a brave and skilful warrior, when we first met. I rate him fifty, every day of it."
By this time the new-comer was so near, that the conversation ceased, all standing gazing at him, as he drew near, and Maud gathering up her hair, with maiden bashfulness, though certainly Nick was no stranger. As for Little Smash, she waddled off to proclaim the news to the younger Pliny, Mari, and Great Smash, all of whom were still in the kitchen of the Hut, flourishing, sleek and glistening.
Soon after, Nick arrived. He came up the Knoll on his loping trot, never stopping until he was within five or six yards of the Captain, when he suddenly halted, folded his arms, and stood in a composed attitude, lest he should betray a womanish desire to tell his story. He did not even pant but appeared as composed and unmoved, as if he had walked the half-mile he had been seen to pass over on a trot.
"Sago--Sago," cried the captain, heartily--"you are welcome back, Nick; I am glad to see you still so active."
"Sago"--answered the guttural voice of the Indian, who quietly nodded his head.
"What will you have to refresh you, after such a journey, Nick--our trees give us good cider, now."
"Santa Cruz better,"--rejoined the sententious Tuscarora.
"Santa Cruz is certainly stronger" answered the captain laughing, "and, in that sense, you may find it better. You shall have a glass, as soon as we go to the house. What news do you bring, that you come in so fast?"
"Glass won't do. Nick bring news worth jug. Squaw give two jug for Nick's news. Is it barg'in?"
"I!" cried Mrs. Willoughby--"what concern can I have with your news. My daughters are both with me, and Heaven be praised! both are well. What can I care for your news, Nick?"
"Got no pap-poose but gal? T'ink you got boy--officer--great chief--up here, down yonder--over dere."
"Robert!--Major Willoughby! What can you have to tell me of my son?"
"Tell all about him, for one jug. Jug out yonder; Nick's story out here. One good as t'other."
"You shall have all you ask, Nick."--These were not temperance days, when conscience took so firm a stand between the bottle and the lips.--"You shall have all you ask, Nick, provided you can really give me good accounts of my noble boy. Speak, then; what have you to say?"
"Say you see him in ten, five minute. Sent Nick before to keep moder from too much cry."
An exclamation from Maud followed; then the ardent girl was seen rushing down the lawn, her hat thrown aside; and her bright fair hair again flowing in ringlets on her shoulders. She flew rather than ran, in the direction of the mill, where the figure of Robert Willoughby was seen rushing forward to meet her. Suddenly the girl stopped, threw herself on a log, and hid her face. In a few minutes she was locked in her brother's arms. Neither Mrs. Willoughby nor Beulah imitated this impetuous movement on the part of Maud; but the captain, chaplain, and even Jamie Allen, hastened down the road to meet and welcome the young major. Ten minutes later, Bob Willoughby was folded to his mother's heart; then came Beulah's turn; after which, the news having flown through the household, the young man had to receive the greetings of Mari', both the Smashes, the younger Pliny, and all the dogs. A tumultuous quarter of an hour brought all round, again, to its proper place, and restored something like order to the Knoll. Still an excitement prevailed the rest of the day, for the sudden arrival of a guest always produced a sensation in that retired settlement; much more likely, then, was the unexpected appearance of the only son and heir to create one. As everybody bustled and was in motion, the whole family was in the parlour, and major Willoughby was receiving the grateful refreshment of a delicious cup of tea, before the sun set. The chaplain would have retired out of delicacy, but to this the captain would not listen; he would have everything proceed as if the son were a customary guest, though it might have been seen by the manner in which his mother's affectionate eye was fastened on his handsome face, as well as that in which his sister Beulah, in particular, hung about him, under the pretence of supplying his wants, that the young man was anything but an every-day inmate.
"How the lad has grown!" said the captain, tears of pride starting into his eyes, in spite of a very manful resolution to appear composed and soldier-like.
"I was about to remark that myself, captain," observed the chaplain. "I do think Mr. Robert has got to his full six feet--every inch as tall as you are yourself, my good sir."
"That is he, Woods--and taller in one sense. He is a major, already, at twenty-seven; it is a step I was not able to reach at near twice the age."
"That is owing, my dear sir," answered the son quickly, and with a slight tremor in his voice, "to your not having as kind a father as has fallen to my share--or at least one not as well provided with the means of purchasing."
"Say none at all, Bob, and you can wound no feeling, while you will tell the truth. My father died a lieutenant-colonel when I was a school-boy; I owed my ensigncy to my uncle Sir Hugh, the father of the present Sir Harry Willoughby; after that I owed each step to hard and long service. Your mother's legacies have helped you along, at a faster rate, though I do trust there has been some merit to aid in the preferment."
"Speaking of Sir Harry Willoughby, sir, reminds me of one part of my errand to the Hut," said the major, glancing his eye towards his father, as if to prepare him for some unexpected intelligence.
"What of my cousin?" demanded the captain, calmly. "We have not met in thirty years, and are the next thing to strangers to each other. Has he made that silly match of which I heard something when last in York? Has he disinherited his daughter as he threatened? Use no reserve here; our friend Woods is one of the family."
"Sir Harry Willoughby is not married, sir, but dead."
"Dead!" repeated the captain,