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WYANDOTTE;

OR,

THE HUTTED KNOLL

BY J. FENIMORE COOPER

"I venerate the Pilgrim's cause,
Yft for the rt-d man clure t(i plead:
We bow to Heaven's recorded laws,
H« turns to Nature for his creed."— Sprague

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.

NEW EDITION.

NEW YORK:
STRINGER AND TOWNSEND,

1852.

Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1843, by

J. FENIMORE COOPER,

in the clerk's office of the district court of the United States, for tho
Northern District of New York.

PREFACE.

THE history of the borders is filled with legends
of the sufferings of isolated families, during the
troubled scenes of colonial warfare. Those which
we now offer to the reader, are distinctive in many
of their leading facts, if not rigidly true in the details.
The first alone is necessary to the legitimate objects
of fiction.

One of the misfortunes of a nation, is to hear little
besides its own praises. Although the American
revolution was probably as just an effort as was ever
made by a people to resist the first inroads of oppres
sion, the cause had its evil aspects, as well as all
other human struggles. We have been so much ac
customed to hear everything extolled, of late years,
that could be dragged into the remotest connection
with that great event, and the principles which led
to it, that there is danger of overlooking truth, in a
pseudo patriotism. Nothing is really patriotic, how
ever, that is not strictly true and just; any more
than it is paternal love to undermine the constitution
of a child by an indiscriminate indulgence in per
nicious diet. That there were demagogues in 1776,
is as certain as that there are demagogues in 1843,
and will probably continue to be demagogues as long
as means for misleading the common mind shall exist.

'*

Vi PREFACE.

A great deal of undigested morality is uttered to
the world, under the disguise of a pretended public
virtue. In the eye of reason, the man who delibe
rately and voluntarily contracts civil engagements is
more strictly bound to their fulfilment, than he whose
whole obligations consist of an accident over which
he had not the smallest control, that of birth ; though
the very reverse of this is usually maintained under
the influence of popular prejudice. The reader will
probably discover how we view this matter, in the
course of our narrative.

Perhaps this story is obnoxious to the charge of a
slight anachronism, in representing the activity of
the Indians a year earlier than any were actually
employed in the struggle of 1775. During the century
of warfare that existed between the English and
French colonies, the savage tribes were important
agents in furthering the views of the respective bel
ligerents. The war was on the frontiers, and these
fierce savages wrere, in a measure, necessary to the
management of hostilities that invaded their own
villages and hunting-grounds. In 1775, the enemy
came from the side of the Atlantic, and it was only
after the struggle had acquired force, that the opera
tions of the interior rendered the services of such
allies desirable. In other respects, without pretend
ing to refer to any real events, the incidents of this
tale are believed to be sufficiently historical for all
the legitimate purposes of fiction.

In this book the writer has aimed at sketching
several distinct varieties of the human race, as true

PREFACE. Vll

to the governing impulses of their educations, habits,
modes of thinking and natures. The red man had
his morality, as much as his white brother, and it is
well known that even Christian ethics are coloured
and governed, by standards of opinion set up on
purely human authority. The honesty of one Chris
tian is not always that of another, any more than
his humanity, truth, fidelity or faith. The spirit
must quit its earthly tabernacle altogether, ere it
cease to be influenced by its tints and imperfections.

THE HUTTED KlNOLL.

CHAPTER I.

44 An acorn It'll from an old oak tree,
And lay on the frosty ground —
*O, what shall the fate of the acorn be?*
Was whispered all around
Uy low-toned voices chiming sweet,
Like a floweret's hell when swung —
And grasshop|)cr steeds were gathering fleet,
And the beetle's hoofs up-rung."

MRS. SEBA SMITH.

THERE is a wide-spread error on the subject of American
scenery. From the size of the lakes, the length and breadth
of the rivers, the vast solitudes of the forests, and the seem
ingly boundless expanse of the prairies, the world has
come to attach to it an idea of grandeur; a word that is in
nearly every case, misapplied. The scenery of that portion
of the American continent which has fallen to the share of
the Anglo-Saxon race, very seldom rises to a scale that
merits this term ; when it does, it is more owing to the
accessories, as in the case of the interminable woods, than
co the natural face of the country. To him who is accus
tomed to the terrific sublimity of the Alps, the softened and
yet wild grandeur of the Italian lakes, or to the noble
witchery of the shores of the Mediterranean, this country
is apt to seem tame, and uninteresting as a whole ; though
it certainly has exceptions that carry charms of this nature
to the verge of loveliness.

Of the latter character is the face of most of that region
which lies in the angle formed by the junction of the Mo
hawk with the Hudson, extending as far south, or even
farther, than the line of Pennsylvania, and west to the verge
of that vast rolling plain which composes Western New
York. This is a region of more than ten thousand square

(9)

1Q ;TH;E; HUTTED KNOLL.

miles of ^suirfac^, ' e-mbracing to-day, ten counties at least,
a,nd. supporting a .rural population of near half a million of
cbuls, 'exelueiiEg the river: towns.

Afi who have1 seeV this district of country, and who are
familiar with the elements of charming, rather than grand
scenery it possesses, are agreed in extolling its capabilities,
and, in some instances, its realities. The want of high
finish is common to everything of this sort in America ; and,
perhaps we may add, that the absence of picturesqueness,
as connected with the works of man, is a general defect ;
still, this particular region, and all others resembling it — for
they abound on the wide surface of the twenty-six states-
has beauties of its own, that it would be difficult to meet
with in any of the older portions of the earth.

They who have done us the honour to read our previous
works, will at once understand that the district to which we
allude, is that of .which we have taken more than one occa
sion to write ; and we return to it now, less with a desire
to celebrate its charms, than to exhibit them in a somewhat
novel, and yet perfectly historical aspect. Our own earlier
labours will have told the reader, that all of this extended
district of country, with the exception of belts of settlements
along the two great rivers named, was a wilderness, anterior
to the American revolution. There was a minor class of
exceptions to this general rule, however, to which it will
be proper to advert, lest, by conceiving us too literally, the
reader may think he can convict us of a contradiction. In
order to be fully understood, the explanations shall be given
at a little length.

While it is true, then, that the mountainous region, which
now contains the counties of Schoharie, Otsego, Chenango,
Broome, Delaware, &c., was a wilderness in 1775, The
colonial governors had begun to make grants of its lands,
some twenty years earlier. The patent of the estate on
which we are writing lies before us ; and it bears the date
of 1769, with an Indian grant annexed, that is a year or
two older. This may be taken as a mean date for the por
tion of country alluded to ; some of the deeds being older,
and others still more recent. These grants of land were
originally made, subject to quit-rents to the crown; and
usually on the payment of heavy fees to the colonial officers,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 11

after going through the somewhat supererogatory duty of
"extinguishing the Indian title," as it was called. The
latter were pretty eflbctually " extinguished" in that day,
as well as in our own ; and it would be a matter of curious
research to ascertain the precise nature of the purchase-
money given to the aborigines. In the case of the patent
before us, the Indian right was " extinguished" by means
of a few rifles, blankets, kettles, and beads ; though the
grant covers a nominal hundred thousand, and a real
hundred and ten or twenty thousand acres of land.

The abuse of the grants, as land became more valuable,
induced a law, restricting the number of acres patented to
any one person, at any one time, to a thousand. Our mo
narchical predecessors had the same facilities, and it may
be added, the same propensities, to rendering a law a dead
letter, as belongs to our republican selves. The patent on
our table, being for a nominal hundred thousand acres, con
tains the names of one hundred different grantees, while
three several parchment documents at its side, each signed
by thirty-three of these very persons, vest the legal estate
in the first named, for whose sole benefit the whole conces
sion was made ; the dates of the last instruments succeeding,
by one or two days, that of the royal patent itself.

Such is the history of most of the original titles to the
many estates that dotted the region we have described,
prior to the revolution. Money and favouritism, however,
were not always the motives of these large concessions.
Occasionally, services presented their claims ; and many
instances occur in which old officers of the army, in par
ticular, received a species of reward, by a patent for land,
the fees being duly paid, and the Indian title righteously
"extinguished." These grants to ancient soldiers were
seldom large, except in the cases of officers of rank ; three
or four thousand well-selected acres, being a sufficient boon
to the younger sons of Scottish lairds, or English squires,
who had been accustomed to look upon a single farm as an
estate.

As most of the soldiers mentioned were used to forest
life, from having been long stationed at frontier posts, and
had thus become familiarized with its privations, and har
dened against its dangers, it was no unusual thing for them

12 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

to sell out, or go on half-pay, when the wants of a family
began to urge their claims, and to retire to their " patents,"
as the land itself, as well as the instrument by which it was
granted, was invariably termed, with a view of establishing
themselves permanently as landlords.

These grants from the crown, in the portions of the
colony of New York that lie west of the river counties,
were generally, if not invariably, simple concessions of the
fee, subject to quit-rents to the king, ar.d reservations of
mines of the precious metals, without any of the privileges
of feudal seignory, as existed in the older manors on the
Hudson, on the islands, and on the Sound. Why this dis
tinction was made, it exceeds our power to say j but, that
the fact was so, as a rule, we have it in proof, by means of
a great number of the original patents, themselves, that
have been transmitted to us from various sources. Still,
the habits of " home" entailed the name, even where the
thing was not to be found. Titular manors exist, in a few
instances, to this day, where no manorial rights were ever
granted ; and manor-houses were common appellations for
the residences of the landlords of large estates, that were
held in fee, without any exclusive privileges, and subject to
the reservation named. Some of these manorial residences
were of so primitive an appearance, as to induce the belief
that the names were bestowed in pleasantry ; the dwellings
themselves being of logs, with the bark still on them, and
the other fixtures to correspond. Notwithstanding all these
drawbacks, early impressions and rooted habits could easily
transfer terms to such an abode ; and there was always a
saddened enjoyment among these exiles, when they could
liken their forest names and usages to those they had left
in the distant scenes of their childhood.

The effect of the different causes we have here given was
to dot the region described, though at long intervals, with
spots of a semi-civilized appearance, in the midst of the
vast — nay, almost boundless — expanse of forest. Some of
these early settlements had made considerable advances
towards finish and comfort, ere the war of '76 drove their
occupants to seek protection against the inroads of the
savages ; and long after the influx of immigration which
succeeded the peace, the fruits, the meadows, and the tjlle^

THE HUTTED KNOLL, 13

fields of fnese oases in the desert, rendered them conspicuous
amidst the blackened stumps, piled logs, and smooty fallows
of an active and bustling settlement. At even a much later
day, they were to be distinguished by the smoother surfaces
of their fields, the greater growth and more bountiful yield
of their orchards, and by the general appearance of a more
finished civilization, and of greater age. Here and there,
a hamlet had sprung up; and isolated places, like Cherry
Valley and Wyoming, were found, that have since become
known to the general history of the country.

Our present tale now leads us to the description of one
of those early, personal, or family settlements, that had
grown up, in what was then a very remote part of the ter
ritory in question, under the care and supervision of an
ancient officer of the name of Willoughby. Captain Wil-
lough by, after serving many years, had married an Ameri
can wife, and continuing his services until a son and
daughter were born, he sold his commission, procured a
grant of land, and determined to retire to his new posses
sions, in order to pass the close of his life in .the tranquil
pursuits of agriculture, and in the bosom of his family. An
adopted child was also added to his cares. Being an
educated as well as a provident man, Captain Willoughby
had set about the execution of this scheme with deliberation,
prudence, and intelligence. On the frontiers, or lines, as it
is the custom to term the American boundaries, he had
1 ecome acquainted with a Tuscarora, known by the English
sobriquet of " Saucy Nick." This fellow, a sort of half-
outcast from his own people, had early attached himself to
the whites, had acquired their language, and owing to a
singular mixture of good and bad qualities, blended with
groat native shrewdness, he had wormed himself into the
confidence of several commanders of small garrisons, among
whom was our captain. No sooner was the mind of the
latter made up, concerning his future course, than he sent
for Nick, who was then in the fort ; when the following
convocation took place :

" Nick," commenced the captain, passing his hand over
his brow, as was his wont when in a reflecting mood;
'* Nick, I have an important movement in view, in which
you can be of some service to me."

VOL. I. — 2

14 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

The Tuscarora, fastening his dark basilisk-like eyes on the
soldier, gazed a moment, as if to read his soul ; then he
jerked a thumb backward, over his own shoulder, and said,
with a grave smile —

" Nick understand. Want six, two, scalp off French
man's head ; wife and child ; out yonder, over dere, up in
Canada. Nick do him — what you give ?"

" No, you red rascal, I want nothing of the sort — it is
peace now, (this conversation took place in 1764), and you
know I never bought a scalp, in time of war. Let me hear
no more of this."

" What you want, den ?" asked Nick, like one who was
a good deal puzzled.

" I want land — good land — little, but good. I am about
to get a grant — a patent — "

" Yes," interrupted Nick, nodding ; " I know him — paper
to take away Indian's hunting-ground."

" Why, I have no wish to do that — I am willing to pay
the red men reasonably for their right, first."

" Buy Nick's land, den — better dan any oder."

" Your land, knave ! — You own no land — belong to no
tribe — have no rights to sell."

" What for ask Nick help, den ?"

" What for ? — Why because you know a good deal,
though you own literally nothing. That 's what for."

" Buy Nick know, den. Better dan he great fader know,
down at York."

" That is just what I do wish to purchase. I will pay
you well, Nick, if you will start to-morrow, with your rifle
and a pocket-compass, off here towards the head-waters of
the Susquehannah and Delaware, where the streams run
rapidly, and where there are no fevers, and bring me an
account of three or four thousand acres of rich bottom-land,
in such a way as a surveyor can find it, and I can get a
patent for it. What say you, Nick ; will you go?"

" He not wanted. Nick sell 'e captain, his own land ;
here in 'e fort."

" Knave, do you not know me well enough not to trifle,
when I am serious ?"

" Nick ser'ous too — Moravian priest no ser'ouser more
dan Nick at dis moment. Got land to sell."

Captain Willoughby had found occasion to punish the

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 15

Tuscarora, in the course of his services ; and as the
understood each other perfectly well, the former saw the
improbability of the latter's daring to trifle with him.

" U'liere is this land of yours, Nick," he inquired, after
studying the Indian's countenance for a moment. " Where
does it lie, what is it like, how much is there of it, and how
came you to own it ?"

" Ask him just so, ag'in," said Nick, taking up four
twii^s, to note down the questions, seriatim.

The captain repeated his inquiries, the Tuscarora laying
down a stick at each separate interrogatory.

" Where he be?" answered Nick, taking up a twig, as a
memorandum. " He out dere — where he want him — where
he say. — One day's march from Susquchanna."

" Well ; proceed."

" What he like ?— Like land, to be sure. T'ink he like
water ! Got some water — no too much — got some land —
got no tree — got some tree. Got good sugar-bush — got
place for wheat and corn."

" Proceed."

"How much of him?" continued Nick, taking up another
twig ; " much as he want — want little, got him — want more,
got him. Want none at all, got none at all — got what he
want."

" Go on."

"To be sure. How came to own him? — How a pale
face come to own America? Discover him — ha! — Well,
Nick discover land down yonder, up dere, over here."

" Nick, what the devil do you mean by all this?"

"No mean devil, at all — moan land — good land.
Discover him — know where he is — catch beaver dere,
three, two year. All Nick say, true as word of honour ;
much more loo."

" Do you mean it is an old beaver-dam destroyed ?" asked
the captain, pricking up his ears; for he was too familiar
with the woods, not to understand the value of such a thing.

" No destroy — stand up yet — good as ever. — Nick dere,
last season."

" Why, then, do you tell of it? Are not the beaver of
more value to you, than any price you may receive for tho
land ?"

"Cotch him all, four, two year ago — rest run away.

16 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

No find beaver to stay long, when Indian once know, two
time, where to set he trap. Beaver cunninger 'an pale
face — cunning as bear."

" I begin to comprehend you, Nick. How large do you
suppose this pond to be ?"

" He'm not as big as Lake Ontario. S'pose him smaller;
what den ? Big enough for farm."

" Does it cover one or two hundred acres, think you ?—
Is it as large as the clearing around the fort?"

" Big as two, six, four of him. Take forty skin, dere.
one season. Little lake ; all 'e tree gone."

"And the land around it — is it mountainous and rough,
or will it be good for corn ?"

" All sugar-bush — what you want better ? S'pose you
want corn ; plant him. S'pose you want sugar ; make
him."

Captain Wi Hough by was struck with this description, and
he returned to the subject, again and again. At length,
after extracting all the information he could get from Nick,
he struck a bargain with the fellow. A surveyor was
engaged, and he started for the place, under the guidance
of the Tuscarora. The result showed that Nick had not
exaggerated. The pond was found, as he had described it
to be, covering at least four hundred acres of low bottom
land ; while near three thousand acres of higher river-flat,
covered with beach and maple, spread around it for a con
siderable distance. The adjacent mountains too, were ara
ble, though bold, and promised, in time, to become a fertile
and manageable district. Calculating his distances with
judgment, the surveyor laid out his metes and bounds in
such a manner as to include the pond, all the low-land, and
about three thousand acres of hill, or mountain, making the
materials for a very pretty little "patent" of somewhat
more than six thousand acres of capital land. He then col
lected a few chiefs of the nearest tribe, dealt out his rum,
tobacco, blankets, wampum, and gunpowder, got twelve
Indians to make their marks on a bit of deer-skin, and
returned to his employer with a map, a field-book, and a
deed, by which the Indian title was " extinguished." The
surveyor received his compensation, and set-off on a similar
excursion, for a different employer, and in another direction.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 17

Nick got his reward, too, and was well satisfied with tho
transaction. This he afterwards called " sellin' beaver
when he all run away."

Furnished with the necessary means, Captain Willoughby
now " sued out his patent," as it was termed, in due form.
Having some influence, the affair was soon arranged; the
grant was made by the governor in council, a massive seal
was annexed to a famous sheet of parchment, the signatures
were obtained, and " Willoughby's Patent" took its place
on the records of the colony, as well as on its maps. We
are wrong as respects the latter particular ; it did not take
its place, on the maps of the colony, though it took a place ;
the location given for many years afterwards, being some
forty or fifty miles too far west. In this peculiarity there
was nothing novel, the surveys of all new regions being
liable to similar trifling mistakes. Thus it was, that an
estate, lying within five-and-twenty miles of the city of
New York, and in which we happen to have a small interest
at this hour, was clipped of its fair proportions, in conse
quence of losing some miles that run over obtrusively into
another colony ; and, within a short distance of the spot
where we are writing, a " patent" has been squeezed entirely
out of existence, between the claims of two older grants.

No such calamity befell «« Willoughby's Patent," how-
ever. The land was found, with all its " marked or blazed
trees," its " heaps of stones," " large butternut corners,"
and " dead oaks." In a word, everything was as it should
be ; even to the quality of the soil, the beaver-pond, and the
quantity. As respects the last, the colony never gave
"struck measure;" a thousand acres on paper, seldom
falling short of eleven or twelve hundred in soil. In tho
present instance, the six thousand two hundred and forty-
six acres of " Willoughby's Patent," were subsequently
ascertained to contain just seven thousand and ninety-two
acres of solid ground.

Our limits and plan will not permit us to give more than
a sketch of the proceedings of the captain, in taking pos
session ; though we feel certain that a minute account of
the progress of such a settlement would possess a sort of
Robinson Crusoe-like interest, that might repay the reader.
As usual, the adventurers commenced their operations in
2*

18 THE HUTTED KNOLIi.

the spring. Mrs. Willoughby, and the children, were left
with their friends, in Albany ; while the captain and his
party pioneered their way to the patent, in the best manner
they could. This party consisted of Nick, who went in the
capacity of hunter, an office of a good deal of dignity, and
of the last importance, to a set of adventurers on an expedi
tion of this nature. Then there were eight axe-men, a
house-carpenter, a mason, and a mill-wright. These, with
Captain Willoughby, and an invalid sergeant, of the name
of Joyce, composed the party.

Our adventurers made most of their journey by water.
After finding their way to the head of the Canaideraga, mis
taking it for the Otsego, they felled trees, hollowed them
into canoes, embarked, and, aided by a yoke of oxen that
were driven along the shore, they wormed their way,
through the Oaks, into the Susquehanna, descending that
river until they reached the Unadilla, which stream they
ascended until they came to the small river, known in the
parlance of the country, by the erroneous name of a creek,
that ran through the captain's new estate. The labour of
this ascent was exceedingly severe ; but the whole journey
was completed by the end of April, and while the streams
were high. Snow still lay in the woods ; but the sap had
started, and the season was beginning to show its promise.

The first measure adopted by our adventurers was to
" hut." In the very centre of the pond, which, it will be
remembered, covered four hundred acres, was an island of
some five or six acres in extent. It was a rocky knoll, that
rose forty feet above the surface of the water, and was still
crowned with noble pines, a species of tree that had escaped
the ravages of the beaver. In the pond, itself,, a few
" stubs" alone remained, the water having killed the trees,
which had fallen and decayed. This circumstance showed
that the stream had long before been dammed ; successions
of families of beavers having probably occupied the place,
and renewed the works, for centuries, at intervals of genera
tions. The dam in existence, however, was not very old ;
the animals having fled from their great enemy, man, rather
than from any other foe.

To the island Captain Willoughby transferred all his
stores, and here he built his hut. This was opposed to the

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 19

notions of his axe-men, who, rightly enough, fancied tho
mainland would be more convenient ; but the captain and
the sergeant, after a council of war, divided that the position
on the knoll would be the most military, and might bo
defended the longest, against man or beast. Another station
was taken up, however, on the nearest shore, where such
of the men were permitted to "hut," as preferred the
location.

These preliminaries observed, the captain meditated a
bold stroke against the wilderness, by draining the pond,
and coming at once into the possession of a noble (arm,
cleared of trees and stumps, as it might be by a coup de
main. This would be compressing the results of ordinary
years of toil, into those of a single season, and everybody
\vas agreed as to the expediency of the course, provided it
were feasible.

The feasibility was soon ascertained. The stream which
ran through the valley, was far from swift, until it reached
a pass where the hills approached each other in low pro
montories ; there the land fell rapidly away to what might
be termed a lower terrace. Across this gorge, or defile, a
distance of about five hundred feet, the dam had been
thrown, a good deal aided by the position of some rocks
that here rose to the surface, and through which the little
river found its passage. The part which might be termed
the key-stone of the dam, was only twenty yards wide, and
immediately below it, the rocks fell away rapidly, quite
sixty feet, carrying down the waste water in a sort of fall.
Here the mill-Wright announced his determination to com
mence operations at once, putting in a protest against
destroying the works of the beavers. A pond of four
hundred acres being too great a luxury for the region, the
man was overruled, and the labour commenced.

The first blow was struck against the dam about nine
o'clock, on the 2d day of May, 1765, and, by evening, the
little sylvan-looking lake, which had lain embedded in the
forest, glittering in the morning sun, unruffled by a breath
of air, had entirely disappeared ! In its place, there re
mained an open expanse of wet mud, thickly covered with
pools and the remains of beaver-houses, with a small river
winding its way slowly through the slime. The change to

20 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

the eye was melancholy indeed ; though the prospect was
cheering to the agriculturist. No sooner did the water
obtain a little passage, than it began to clear the way for
itself, gushing out in a torrent, through the pass already
mentioned.

The following morning, Captain Willoughby almost
mourned over the works of his hands. The scene was so
very different from that it had presented when the flats
were covered with water, that it was impossible not to feel
the change. For quite a month, it had an influence on the
whole party. Nick, in particular, denounced it, as unwise
and uncalled for, though he had made his price out of the
very circumstance in prospective ; and even Sergeant Joyce
was compelled to admit that the knoll, an island no longer,
had lost quite half its security as a military position. The
next month, however, brought other changes. Half the
pools had vanished by drainings and evaporation ; the mud
had begun to crack, and, in some places to pulverize ; while
the upper margin of the old pond had become sufficiently
firm to permit the oxen to walk over it, without miring.
Fences of trees, brush, and even rails, enclosed, on this
portion of the flats, quite fifty acres of land ; and Indian
corn, oats, pumpkins, peas, potatoes, flax, and several other
sorts of seed, were already in the ground. The spring
proved dry, and the sun of the forty-third degree of latitude
was doing its work, with great power and beneficence.
What was of nearly equal importance, the age of the pond
had prevented any recent accumulation of vegetable matter,
and consequently spared tho'se who laboured around the
spot, the impurities of atmosphere usually consequent on
its decay. Grass-seed, too, had been liberally scattered on
favourable places, and things began to assume the appear
ance of what is termed " living."

August presented a still different picture. A saw-mill was
up, and had been at work for some time. Piles of green
boards began to make their appearance, and the plane of
the carpenter was already in motion. Captain Willoughby
was rich, in a small way ; in other words, he possessed a
few thousand pounds besides his land, and had yet to re
ceive the price of his commission. A portion of these means
were employed judiciously to advance his establishment;

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 21

and, satisfied that there would be no scarcity of fodder for
the ensuing winter, a man had been sent into the settle
ments for another yoke of cattle, and a couple of cows.
Fanning utensils were manufactured on the spot, and sleds
began to take the place of carts ; the latter exceeding the
skill of any of the workmen present.

October offered its products as a reward for all this toil.
The yield was enormous, and of excellent quality. Of
Indian corn, the captain gathered several hundred bushels,
besides stacks of stalks and tops. His turnips, too, were
superabundant in quantity, and of a delicacy and flavour
entirely unknown to the precincts of old lands. The pota
toes had not done so well ; to own the truth, they were a
little watery, though there were enough of them to winter
every hoof he had, of themselves. Then the peas and
garden truck were both good and plenty ; and a few pigs
having been procured, there was the certainty of enjoying
a plenty of that important article, pork, during the coming
winter.

Late in the autumn, the captain rejoined his family in
Albany, quitting the field for winter quarters. He left ser
geant Joyce, in garrison, supported by Nick, a miller, the
mason, carpenter, and three of the axe-men. Their duty
was to prepare materials for the approaching season, to
take care of the stock, to put in winter crops, to make a few
bridges, clear out a road or two, haul wood to keep them
selves from freezing, to build a log barn and some sheds,
and otherwise to advance the interests of the settlement.
They were also to commence a house for the patentee.

As his children were at school, captain Willoughby de
termined not to take his family immediately to the Hutted
Knoll, as the place soon came to be called, from the cir
cumstance of the original bivouack. This name was con
ferred by sergeant Joyce, who had a taste in that way, and
as it got to be confirmed by the condescension of the pro
prietor and his family, we have chosen it to designate our
present labours. From lime to time, a messenger arrived
with news from the place ; and twice, in the course of the
winter, the same individual went back with supplies, and
encouraging messages to the different persons left in the
clearing. As spring approached, however, the captain be-

22 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

gan to make his preparations for the coming campaign, in
which he was to be accompanied by his wife ; Mrs. Wil-
loughby, a mild, affectionate, true-hearted New York wo
man, having decided not to let her husband pass another
summer in that solitude without feeling the cheering influ
ence of her presence.

In March, before the snow began to melt, several sleigh-
loads of different necessaries were sent up the valley of the
Mohawk, to a point opposite the head of the Otsego, where
a thriving village called Fortplain now stands. Thence
men were employed in transporting the articles, partly by
means of " jumpers" improvised for the occasion, and partly
on pack-horses, to the lake, which was found this time, in
stead of its neighbour the Canaderaiga. This necessary
and laborious service occupied six weeks, the captain having
been up as far as the lake once himself; returning to Albany,
however, ere the snow was gone.

CHAPTER II.

All things are new — the buds, the leaves,
That gild the elm-tree's nodding crest,
And even the nest beneath the eaves —
There are no birds in last year's nest.

LONGFELLOW.

" I HAVE good news for you, Wilhelmina," cried the
captain, coming into the parlour where his wife used to sit
and knit or sew quite half the day, and speaking with a
bright face, and in a cheerful voice — " Here is a letter from
my excellent old colonel ; and Bob's affair is all settled and
agreed on. He is to leave school next week, and to put on
His Majesty's livery the week after."

Mrs. Willoughby smiled, and yet two or three tears fol
lowed each other down her cheeks, even while she smiled.
The first was produced by pleasure at hearing that her son
had got an ensigncy in the 60th, or Royal Americans ; and
the last was a tribute paid to nature ; a mother's fears at
consigning an only boy to the profession of arms.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 23

"I am rejoiced, "U'ilioughby," she said, "because you
rejoice, and I know that Robert will be delighted at po
ing tiie king's commission ; but, he is eery young to be sent
into the dangers of battle and the camp !"

k- I was younger, when I actually went into battle, for
then it was war; now, we have a peace that promises to be
endless, and Bob will have abundance of time to cultivate a
beard before he smells gunpowder. As for myself" — he
added in a ha If- regretful manner, for old habits and opinions
would occasionally cross his mind — "as for myself, the
cultivation of turnips must be my future occupation. Well,
the bit of parchment is sold, Bob has got his in its place,
while the difference in price is in my pocket, and no more
need be said — and here come our dear girls, Wilhclmina,
to prevent any regrets. The father of two such daughters
ought, at least, to be happy."

At this instant, Beulah and Maud Willoughby, (for so
the adopted child was called as well as the real), entered
the room, having taken the lodgings of their parents, in a
morning walk, on which they were regularly sent by the
mistress of the boarding-school, in which they were receiving
what was then thought to be a first-rate American female
education. And much reason had their fond parents to be
proud of them ! Beulah, the eldest, was just eleven, while
her sister was eighteen months younger. The first had a
staid, and yet a cheerful look ; but her cheeks were bloom
ing, her eyes bright, and her smile sweet. Maud, the adopt
ed one, however, had already the sunny countenance of an
angel, with quite as much of the appearance of health as
her sister ; her face had more finesse, her looks more intel
ligence, her playfulness more feeling, her smile more ten
derness, at times ; at others, more meaning. It is scarcely
necessary to say that both had that delicacy of outline
which seems almost inseparable from the female form in
this country. What was, perhaps, more usual in that day
among persons of their class than it is in our own, each
spoke her own language with an even graceful utterance,
and a faultless accuracy of pronunciation, equally removed
from effort and provincialisms. As the Dutch was in very
common use then, at Albany, and most females of Dutch
origin had a slight touch of their mother tongue in their

24 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

enunciation of English, this purity of dialect in the two girls
was to be ascribed to the fact that their father was an Eng
lishman by birth ; their mother an American of purely
English origin, though named after a Dutch god-mother ;
and the head of the school in which they had now been
three years, was a native of London, and a lady by habits
and education.

" Now, Maud," cried the captain, after he had kissed the
forehead, eyes and cheeks of his smiling little favourite —
" Now, Maud, I will set you to guess what good news I
have for you and Beulah."

" You and mother do n't mean to go to that bad Beaver
.Manor this summer, as some call the ugly pond?" answered
the child, quick as lightning.

" That is kind of you, my darling ; more kind than pru
dent ; but you are not right."

" Try Beulah, now," interrupted the mother, who, while
she too doted on her youngest child, had an increasing
respect for the greater solidity and better judgment of her
sister : " let us hear Beulah's guess."

" It is something about my brother, I know by mother's
eyes," answered the eldest girl, looking inquiringly into
Mrs. Willoughby's face.

" Oh ! yes," cried Maud, beginning to jump about the
room, until she ended her saltations in her father's arms — •
" Bob has got his commission ! — I know it all well enough,
now — I would not thank you to tell me — I know it all now —
dear Bob, how he will laugh ! and how happy I am !"

" Is it so, mother ?" asked Beulah, anxiously, and without
even a smile.

" Maud is right ; Bob is an ensign — or, will be one, in a
day or two. You do not seem pleased, my child ?"

" I wish Robert were not a soldier, mother. Now he will
be always away, and we shall never see him ; then he may
be obliged to fight, and who knows how unhappy it may
make him ?"

Beulah thought more of her brother than she did of her
self; and, sooth to say, her mother had many of the child's
misgivings. With Maud it was altogether different: she
saw only the bright side of the picture ; Bob gay and bril
liant, his face covered with smiles, his appearance admired,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 25

himself, and of course his sisters, happy. Captain Wil-
. >\ sympathi/'-d altogether with his p«-r. Accustomed
l«i arms, h that a career in \\liidi he had partially

iailed — this he did not conceal from himself or his wile —
that this same career had opened, as he trusted, with better
.1 his only son. He covered Maud with kisses,
and then rushed from the house, finding his heart too full
to run the risk of being unmanned in the presence of fe
males.

A week later, availing themselves of one of the last falls
of snow of the season, captain Willoughby and his w;
Albany for the Knoll. The leave-taking was tender, and
to the parents bitter; though after all, it was known that
little more than a hundred miles would separate them from
their beloved daughters. Fifty of these miles, however,
were absolutely wilderness ; and to achieve them, quite a
hundred of tangled forest, or of difficult navigation, were
to be passed. The communications would be at considera
ble intervals, and difficult. Still they might be held, and
the anxious mother left many injunctions with Mrs. Waring,
the head of the school, in relation to the health of her daugh
ters, and the manner in which she was to be sent for, in the
1 of any serious illness.

Mrs. Willoughby had often overcome, as she fancied, the
difficulties of a wilderness, in the company of her husband.
It is the fashion highly to extol Napoleon's passage of the
Alps, simply in reference to its physical obstacles. There
: was a brigade moved twenty-four hours into the Ame
rican wilds, that had not greater embarrassments of this
nature to overcome, unless in those eases in which favour
able river navigation has offered its facilities. Still, time
and necessity had made a sort of military ways to all the
more important frontier points occupied by the British gar
risons, and the experience of Mrs. Willoughby had not
hitherto been of the severe character of that she was now
compelled to undergo.

The first fifty miles were passed over in a sleigh, in a
few hours, and with little or no personal fatigue. This
brought the travellers to a Dutch inn on the Mohawk, where
the captain had often made his halts, and whither he had,
from time to time, sent his advanced parties in the course

VOL. I.— 3

26 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

of the winter and spring. Here a jumper was found pre
pared to receive Mrs. Willoughby ; and the horse being led
by the captain himself, a passage through the forest was
effected as far as the head of the Otsego. The distance be
ing about twelve miles, it required two days for its perform
ance. As the settlements extended south from the Mohawk
a few miles, the first night was passed in a log cabin, on
the extreme verge of civilization, if civilization it could be
called, and the remaining eight miles were got over in the
course of the succeeding day. This was more than would
probably have been achieved in the virgin forest, and under
the circumstances, had not so many of the captain's people
passed over the same ground, going and returning, thereby
learning how to avoid the greatest difficulties of the route,
and here and there constructing a rude bridge. They had
also blazed the trees, shortening the road by pointing out
its true direction.

At the head of the Otsego, our adventurers were fairly in
the wilderness. Huts had been built to receive the travel
lers, and here the whole party assembled, in readiness to
make a fresh start in company. It consisted of more than
a dozen persons, in all ; the black domestics of the family
being present, as well as several mechanics whom Captain
Willoughby had employed to carry on his improvements.
The men sent in advance had not. been idle, any more than
those left at the Hutted Knoll. They had built three or
four skiffs, one small batteau, and a couple of canoes.
These were all in the water, in waiting for the disappearance
of the ice ; which was now reduced to a mass of stalactites
in form, greenish and sombre in hue, as they floated in a body,
but clear and bright when separated and exposed to the sun.
The south winds began to prevail, and the shore was glit
tering with the fast-melting piles of the frozen fluid, though
it would have been vain yet to attempt a passage through it.

The Otsego is a sheet that we have taken more than one
occasion to describe, and the picture it then presented,
amidst its frame of mountains, will readily be imagined by
most of our readers. In 1765, no sign of a settlement was
visible on its shores ; few of the grants of land in that
vicinity extending back so far. Still the spot began to be
known ; and hunters had been in the habit of frequenting

THE HUTTED KNOLL. ~7

its bosom and its shores, for the last twenty years or more.
Nut . of their presence, however, was to b«-

from the huts of the captain ; but Mrs. U'illoughby assured
her husband, as she stood leaning on his arm, the morning
after her arrival, that never beiure had she gazed on so
eloquent, and yd MJ pleasing a picture of solitude as that
which lay spread before her *

" There is something encouraging and soothing in this

bland south wind, too," she added, " which seems to pr<>-

iiai wr shall meet with a beneficent nature, in the

spot to which we are going. The south airs of spring, to

me arc always filled with promise."

" And justly, love ; for they are the harbingers of a

renewed vegetation. If the wind increase, as I think it

may, we shall see this chilling sheet of ice succeeded by the

mom cheerful view of water. It is in this way, that all

:al;es open their bosoms in April."

Captain \\ illoughby did not know it, while speaking, but,
at that moment, quite two miles of tiie lower, or southern
end of the lake, was clear, and the opening giving a sweep
to the breeze, the latter was already driving the sheets of
ice before it, towards the head, at a rate of quite a mile in
the hour. Just then, an Irishman, named Michael O'l ;
who had recently arrived in America, and whom the cap
tain had hired as a servant of all work, came rushing up to
iiis master, and opened his teeming thoughts, with an
earnestness of manner, and a confusion of rhetoric, that
were equally characteristic of the man and of a portion of
his nation.

" Is it journeying south, or to the other end of this bit of
wather, or ice, that yer honour is thinking of?" he cried.
.1, and there'll be room for us all, and to spare ; lor
divil a bir-r-d will be left in that quarter by night, or
nent twelve o'clock either, calculating by the clock, if one
had such a thing ; as a body might say."

'his was said not only vehemently, but with an accent
that defies imitation with the pen, Mrs. Willoughbv was
quite at a loss to get a clue to the idea ; but, her husband,
more accustomed to men of Mike's class, was sufliciently
lucky to comprehend what li<- was at.

" You mean the pigeons, Mike, I suppose," the captain

28 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

answered, good-humouredly. " There are certainly a
goodly number of them ; and I dare say our hunters will
bring us in some, for dinner. It is a certain sign that the
winter is gone, when birds and beasts follow their instincts,
in this manner. Where are you from, Mike?"

" County Leitrim, yer honour," answered the other,
touching his cap.

** Ay, that one may guess," said the captain, smiling ,
" but where last ?"

" From looking at the bir-r-ds, sir ! — Och ! It 's a sight
that will do madam good, and contains a sartainty there '11
be room enough made for us, where all these cr'atures came
from. I 'm thinking, yer honour, if we don't ate them,
they '11 be wanting to ate us. What a power of them, count
ing big and little ; though they 're all of a size, just as much
as if they had flown through a hole made on purpose to
kape them down to a convanient bigness, in body and
feathers."

" Such a flight of pigeons in Ireland, would make a sen
sation, Mike," observed the captain, willing to amuse his
wife, by drawing out the County Leitrim-man, a little.

" It would make a dinner, yer honour, for every mother's
son of 'em, counting the gur-r-rls, in the bargain ! Such a
power of bir-r-ds, would knock down 'praties, in a wonder
ful degree, and make even butthermilk chape and plenthiful.
Will it be always such abundance with us, down at the
Huts, yer honour ? or is this sight only a delusion to fill us
with hopes that 's never to be satisfied ?"

" Pigeons are seldom wanting in this, country, Mike, in
the spring and autumn ; though we have both birds and
beasts, in plenty, that are preferable for food."

" Will it be plentthier than this ? — Well, it 's enough to
destroy human appetite, the sight of 'em ! I 'd give the
half joe I lost among them blackguards in Albany, at their
Pauss, as they calls it, jist to let my sisther's childer have
their supper out of one of these flocks, such as they are,
betther or no betther. Och ! its pleasant to think of them
childer having their will, for once, on such a power of
wild, savage bir-r-ds !"

Captain Willoughby smiled at this proof of naivete in his
new domestic, and then led his wife back to the hut ; it

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 29

being time to make some fresh dispositions for the approach.
ing movement. l»y noon, u became apparent to those who
were waiting such an event, that the lake was nooning;
and, about the same time, one of the hunters came in from
a neighbouring mountain, and reported that he had seen
clear water, as near their position as three or four miles.
J!y this time it was blowing fresh, and the wind, having a
clear rake, drove up the honeycomb-looking sheet before it,
as the scraper accumulates snow. When the sun set, the
whole north shore was white with piles of glittering icicles;
while the bosom of the Otsego, no longer disturbed by the
wind, resembled a placid mirror.

Karly on the following morning, the whole party em-
b-.rked. There was no wind, and men were placed at the
paddles and the oars. Care was taken, on quitting the
hots, to close their doors and shutters ; for they were to be
taverns to cover the heads of many a traveller, in the fre
quent journeys that were likely to be made, between the
Knoll and the settlements. These stations, then, were of
the last importance, and a frontier-man always had the samo
regard for them, that the mountaineer of the Alps has for
his " refuge."

The passage down the Otsego was the easiest and most
agreeable portion of the whole journey. The day was
pleasant, and the oarsmen vigorous, if not very skilful, ren
dering the movement rapid, and sufficiently direct. JJut
one drawback occurred to the prosperity of the voyage.
Among the labourers hired by the captain, was a Connecti
cut man, of the name of Joel Strides, between whom and tho
County Leitrim-man, there had early commenced a warfare
of tricks and petty annoyances ; a warfare that was per-
frctly defensive on the part of O'Hoarn, who did little more,
in the way of retort, than comment on the long, lank, shape
less figure, and meagre countenance of his enemy. Joel
had not been seen to smile, since he engaged with the cap
tain ; though three times had he lan-jln1*! oufriirht, and eaeh
time at the occurrence of some mishap to MiHiae! ()* fleam,
the fruit of one of his own schemes of annoyance.

On the present occasion, Joel, who had the distribution
of such duty, placed Mike in a skiff, by himself, flattering
the poor fellow with the credit he would achieve, by rowing
3*

30 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

a boat to the foot of the lake, without assistance. lie might
as well have asked Mike to walk to the outlet on the surface
of the water ! This arrangement proceeded from an innate
love of mischief in Joel, who had much of the quiet waggery,
blended with many of the bad qualities of the men of his
peculiar class. A narrow and conceited selfishness lay at
the root of the larger portion of this man's faults. As a
physical being, he was a perfect labour-saving machine,
himself; bringing all the resources of a naturally quick and
acute mind to bear on this one end, never doing anything
that required a particle more than the exertion and strength
that were absolutely necessary to effect his object. He
rowed the skiff in which the captain and his wife had em
barked, with his own hands ; and, previously to starting,
he had selected the best sculls from the other boats, had
fitted his tvvhart with the closest attention to his own ease,
and had placed a stretcher for his feet, with an intelligence
and knowledge of mechanics, that would have done credit
to a Whitehall waterman. This much proceeded from the
predominating principle of his nature, which was, always to
have an eye on the interests of Joel Strides ; though the
effect happened, in this instance, to be beneficial to those he
served.

Michael O'Hearn, on the contrary, thought only of the
end ; and this so intensely, not to so say vehemently, as
generally to overlook the means. Frank, generous, self-
devoted, and withal accustomed to get most things wrong-
end-foremost, he usually threw away twice the same labour,
in effecting a given purpose, that was expended by the
Yankee ; doing the thing worse, too, besides losing twice
the time. He never paused to think of this, however.
The masther's boat was to be rowed to the other end of the
lake, and, though he had never rowed a boat an inch in his
life, he was ready and willing to undertake the job. " If a
certain quantity of work will not do it," thought Mike, " I'll
try as much ag'in ; and the divil is in it, if that won't sarve
the purpose of that little bit of a job."

Under such circumstances the party started. Most of
the skiffs and canoes went off half an hour before Mrs.
Willoughby was ready, and Joel managed to keep Mike for
the last, under the pretence of wishing his aid in loading his

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 31

own boat, with the bod and bidding from the hut. All was
ready, at length, and taking his scat, with a sort of quiet
delilxM-ilion, Joel said, in his drawling way, " You'll follow
.id ymi can't be a thousand miles out of the way."
Th--n he ] Hilled from the shoiv with a quiet, steady stroke
of the sculls, that sent the skiiF ahead with great rapidity,
though with much ease to himself.

Michael O'l learn stood looking at the retiring skill', in
silent admiration, for two or three minutes. He was quite
alone ; for all the other boats were already two or throe
miles on their way, and distance already prevented him
from serini; the mischief that was lurking in Joel's hypo
critical eyes.

" Follow yees /" soliloquized Mike — " The divil burn ye,
for a guessing yankcc as ye ar' — how am I to follow with
such legs as the likes of these ? If it was n't for the masther
and the missus, ra'al jontlemen and ladies they be, I'd turn
my back on ye, in the desert, and let ye find that Beaver
estate, in ycr own disagreeable company. Ha! — well, I
must thry, and if the boat wont go, it '11 be no fault of the
man that has a good disposition to make it."

Mike now took his seat on a board that lay across tho
gunwale of the skiff at a most inconvenient height, placed
two sculls in the water, one of which was six inches longer
than the other, made a desperate effort, and got his craft
fairly afloat. Now, Michael O'Hearn was not left-handed,
and, as usually happens with such men, the inequality be-
twi en the two limbs was quite marked. By a sinister acci
dent, too, it happened that the longest oar got into tho
strongest hand, and there it would have staid to the end of
time, before Mike would think of changing it, on that ac
count. Joel, alone, sat with his face towards the head of
the lake, and he alone could see the dilemma in which the
county Leitrim-man was placed. Neither the captain nor
his wife thought of looking behind, and the yankcc had all
the fun to himself. As for Mike, he succeeded in getting a
few rods from the land, when the strong arm and the longer
lever assorting their superiority, the skiff began to in-line;
to the westward. So intense, however, was the poor fel
low's zeal, that he did not discover the change in hiscourso
until he had so far turned as to give him a glimpse of his

32 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

retiring master ; then he inferred that all was right, and
pulled more leisurely. The result was, that in about ten
minutes, Mike was stopped by the land, the boat touching
the north shore again, two or three rods from the very point
whence it had started. The honest fellow got up, looked
around him, scratched his head, gazed wistfully after the
fast-receding boat of his master, and broke out in another
soliloquy.

" Bad luck to them that made ye, ye one-sided thing !"
he said, shaking his head reproachfully at the skiff: "there's
liberty for ye to do as ye ought, and ye '11 not be doing it,
just out of contrairincss. Why the divil can 't ye do like
the other skiffs, and go where ye 're wanted, on the road to
wards thim beavers 1 Och, ye '11 be sorry for this, when
ye 're left behind, out of sight!"

Then it flashed on Mike's mind that possibly some arti
cle had been left in the hut, and the skiff had come back to
look after it ; so, up he ran to the captain's deserted lodge,
entered it, was lost to view for a minute, then came in sight
again, scratching his head, and renewing his muttering —

" No," he said, " divil a thing can I see, and it must be
pure conframness ! Perhaps the baste will behave betther
next time, so I '11 thry it ag'in, and give it an occasion.
Barring obstinacy, 't is as good-lookin' a skiff as the best of
them."

Mike was as good as his word, and gave the skiff as fair
an opportunity of behaving itself as was ever offered to a
boat. Seven times did he quit the shore, and as often return
to it, gradually working his way towards the western shore,
and slightly down the lake. In this mariner, Mike at length
got himself so far on the side of the lake, as to present a
barrier of land to the evil disposition of his skiff to incline
to the westward. It could go no longer in that direction,
at least.

" Divil burn ye," the honest fellow cried, the perspiration
rolling down his face; "I think ye '11 be satisfied without
walking out into the forest, where I wish ye war' with all
my heart, amang the threes that made ye ! Now, I '11 see
if yer con^rairy enough to run up a hill."

Mike next essayed to pull along the shore, in the hope
that the sight of the land, and of the overhanging pines and

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 83

hemlocks, would cure the boat's propensity to turn in that
direction. It is not necessary to say that his expectations
wt-iv disappointed, and lie finally was reduced to getting out
into the water, cool as was tin- \\vnther, and of wading along
tin: .shoiv, dragging the hoat alter him. All this Joel saw
before he passed out of sight, hut no movement of his mus
cles let the eaptain into the secret of the poor Irishman's
strait.

In the meanwhile, the rest of the flotilla, or brigade of
boats, as the captain termed them, went prosperously on
their way, going from one end of the lake to the other, in
the course of three hours. As one of the party had been
over the route several times already, there was no hesitation
on the subject of the point to which the boats were to pro-
ceed. They all touched the shore near the stone that is now
called the " Otsego Rock," beneath a steep wooded bank,
and quite near to the place where the Susquehannah glanced
out of the lake, in a swift current, beneath a high-arched
tracery of branches that were not yet clothed with leaves.

Here the question was put as to what had become of
Mike. His skiff was nowhere visible, and the captain felt
the necessity of having him looked for, before he pro<
any further. After a short consultation, a boat manned by
two negroes, father and son, named Pliny the elder, and
Pliny the younger, or, in common parlance, "old Plin"
and " young Plin," was sent back along the west-shore to
hunt him up. Of course, a hut was immediately prepared
for the reception of Mrs. Willoughby, upon the plain that
stretches across the valley, at this point. This was on the
site of the present village of Cooperstown, but just twenty
years anterior to the commencement of the pretty little shire
town that now exists on the spot.

It was night ere the two Plinics appeared towing Mike,
as their great namesakes of antiquity mi^ht have brought
in a Carthaginian galley, in triumph. The county Leitrim-
man had made his way with excessive toil about a league
ere he was met, and glad enough was he to see his succour
approach. In that day, the strong antipathy which now
exists between the black and the emigrant Irishman was
unknown, the competition for household service commencing
more than half a century later. Still, as the negro loved

34 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

fun constitutionally, and Pliny the younger was somewhat
of a wag, Mike did not entirely escape, scot-free.

"Why you drag 'im like ox, Irish Mike?" cried the
younger negro — " why you no row 'im like other folk ?"

" Ah — you're as bad as the rest of 'em," growled Mike.
" They tould me Ameriky was a mighty warm country,
and war-r-m I find it, sure enough, though the wather isn't
as warm as good whiskey. Come, ye black divils, and see
if ye can coax this con^miry cr'athure to do as a person
wants."

The negroes soon had Mike in tow, and then they went
down the lake merrily, laughing and cracking their jokes,
at the Irishman's expense, after the fashion of their race.
It was fortunate for the Leitrim-man that he was accustom
ed to ditching, though it may be questioned if the pores of
his body closed again that day, so very effectually had they
been opened. When he rejoined his master, not a syllable
was said of the mishap, Joel having the prudence to keep
his own secret, and even joining Mike in denouncing the
bad qualities of the boat. We will only add here, that a
little calculation entered into this trick, Joel perceiving that
Mike was a favourite, and wishing to bring him into dis
credit.

Early the next morning, the captain sent the negroes and
Mike down the Susquehannah a mile, to clear away some
flood-wood, of which one of the hunters had brought in a
report the preceding day. Two hours later, the boats left
the shore, and began to float downward with the current,
following the direction of a stream that has obtained its
name from its sinuosities.

In a few minutes the boats reached the flood-wood, where,
to Joel's great amusement, Mike and the negroes, the latter
having little more calculation than the former, had com
menced their operations on the upper side of the raft, piling
the logs on one another, with a view to make a passage
through the centre. Of course, there was a halt, the females
landing. Captain Willoughby now cast an eye round him
in hesitation, when a knowing look from Joel caught his
attention.

" This does not seem to be right," he said — " cannot we
better it a little?"

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 35

" It 's right wrong, captain," answered Joel, laughing liko
one who enjoyed other people's ignorance. " A sensible
crittur' would begin the work on such a job, at the lower
side of the raft."

" Take the direction, and order things to suit yourself."

This was just what Joel liked. Head-work before all
other work for him, and he set about the duty authorita
tively and with promptitude. Ailer rating the negroes
roundly for their stupidity, and laying it on Mike without
much delicacy of thought or diction, over the shoulders of
the two blacks, he mustered his forces, and began to clear
the channel with intelligence and readiness.

Going to the lower side of the jammed flood-wood, he
soon succeeded in loosening one or two trees, which floated
away, making room for others to follow. By these means
a passage was effected in half an hour, Joel having the pru
dence to set no more timber in motion than was necessary
to his purpose, lest it might choke the stream below. In
this manner the party got through, and, the river being high
at that season, by night the travellers were half-way to the
mouth of the Unadilla. The next evening they encamped
at the junction of the two streams, making their prepara
tions to ascend the latter the following morning.

The toil of the ascent, however, did not commence, until
the boats entered what was called the creek, or the small
tributary of the Unadilla, on which the beavers had erected
their works, and which ran through the " Manor." Here,
indeed, the progress was slow and laborious, the rapidity
of the current and the shallowness of the water rendering
every foot gained a work of exertion and pain. Perseve
rance and skill, notwithstanding, prevailed ; all the boats
reaching the foot of the rapids, or straggling falls, on which
the captain had built his mills, about an hour before the sun
disappeared. Here, of course, the boats were left, a rude
road having been cut, by means of which the freights were
transported on a sledge the remainder of the distance.
Throughout the whole of this trying day, Joel had not only
worked head-work, but he had actually exerted himself
with his body. As for Mike, never before had he male
such desperate efforts. He felt all the disgrace of his ad
venture on the lake, and was disposed to wipe it out by his

36 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

exploits on the rivers. Thus Mike was ever loyal to his
employer. He had sold his flesh and blood for money, and
a man of his conscience was inclined to give a fair penny's-
worth. The tractable manner in which the boat had floated
down the river, it is true, caused him some surprise, as was
shown in his remark to the younger Pliny, on landing.

" This is a curious boat, afther all," said Pat. " One
time it 's all contrariness, and then ag'in it 's as obliging as
one's own mother. It followed the day all 's one like a
puppy dog, while yon on the big wather there was no more
dhrimng it than a hog. Och ! it 's a faimale boat, by its
whims !"

CHAPTER III.

" He sleeps forgetful of his once bright flame ;
He has no feeling of the glory gone ;
He has no eye to catch the mounting flame
That once in transport drew him on ;
He lies in dull oblivious dreams, nor cares
Who the wreathed laurel bears."

PERCIVAL.

THE appearance of a place in which the remainder of
one's life is to be past is always noted with interest on a
first visit. Thus it was that Mrs. Willoughby had been
observant and silent from the moment the captain informed
her that they had passed the line of his estate, and were
approaching the spot where they were to dwell. The stream
was so small, and the girding of the forest so close, that
there was little range for the sight ; but the anxious wife
and mother could perceive that the hills drew together, at
this point, the valley narrowing essentially, that rocks began
to appear in the bed of the river, and that the growth of the
timber indicated fertility and a generous soil.

When the boat stopped, the little stream came brawling
down a ragged declivity, and a mill, one so arranged as to
grind and saw, both in a very small way, however, gave
the first signs of civilization she had beheld since quitting
the last hut near the Mohawk. After issuing a few orders,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 37

the captain drew his wife's arm through his own, and hur-
ried up the ascent, with an eagerness that was almost
boyish, to show her what had been done towards the im
provement of the " Knoll." There is a pleasure in diving
into a virgin forest and commencing the labours of civiliza
tion, that has no exact parallel in any other human occu
pation. That of building, or of laying out grounds, has
certainly some resemblance to it, but it is a resemblance so
faint and distant as scarcely to liken the enjoyment each
produces. The former approaches nearer to the feeling of
creating, and is far more pregnant with anticipations and
hopes, though its first effects are seldom agreeable, and are
sometimes nearly hideous. Our captain, however, had
escaped most of these last consequences, by possessing the
advantage of having a clearing1, without going through the
usual processes of chopping and burning; the first of which
leaves the earth dotted, for many years, with unsightly
stumps, while the rains and snows do not wash out the hues
of the last for several seasons.

An exclamation betrayed the pleasure with which Mrs.
Willoughby got her first glimpse of the drained pond. It
was when she had clambered to the point of the rocks,
where the stream began to tumble downward into the valley
below. A year had done a vast deal for the place. The
few stumps and stubs which had disfigured the basin when
it was first laid bare, had all been drawn by oxen, and
burned. This left the entire surface of the four hundred
acres smooth and fit for the plough. The soil was the de
posit of centuries, and the inclination, from the woods to
the stream, was scarcely perceptible to the eye. In fact, it
was barely sufficient to drain the drippings of the winter's
snows. The form of the area was a little irregular; just
enough so to be picturesque ; while the inequalities were
surprisingly few and trifling. In a word, nature had formed
just such a spot as delights the husbandman's heart, and
placed it beneath a sun which, while its fierceness is relieved
by winters of frost and snow, had a power to bring out all
its latent resources.

Trees had been felled around the whole area, with the
open spaces filled by branches, in a way to form what is
termed a brush fence. This is not a sightly object, and the

VOL. I. — 4

38 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

captain had ordered the line to be drawn within the woods,
so that the visible boundaries of the open land were the
virgin forest itself. His men had protested against this, a
fence, however unseemly, being in their view an indispen
sable accessory to civilization. But the captain's authority,
if not his better taste, prevailed ; and the boundary of felled
trees and brush was completely concealed in the back
ground of woods. As yet, there was no necessity for cross-
fences, the whole open space lying in a single field. One
hundred acres were in winter wheat. As this grain had
been got in the previous autumn, it was now standing on
the finest and driest of the soil, giving an air of rich fertility
to the whole basin. Grass-seed had been sown along both
banks of the stream, and its waters were quietly flowing
between two wide belts of fresh verdure, the young plants
having already started in that sheltered receptacle of the
sun's rays. Other portions of the flat showed signs of im
provement, the plough having actually been at work for
quite a fortnight.

All this was far more than even the captain had expected,
and much more than his wife had dared to hope. Mrs.
Willoughby had been accustomed to witness the slow pro
gress of a new settlement ; but never before had she seen
what might be done on a beaver-dam. To her all appeared
like magic, and her first question would have been to ask
her husband to explain what had been done with the trees
and stumps, had not her future residence caught her eye.
Captain Willoughby had left his orders concerning the
house, previously to quitting the Knoll ; and he was now
well pleased to perceive that they had been attended to. As
this spot will prove the scene of many of the incidents we
are bound to relate, it may be proper, here, to describe it, at
some length.

The hillock that rose out of the pond, in the form of a
rocky little island, was one of those capricious formations
that are often met with on the surface of the earth. It stood
about thirty rods from the northern side of the area, very
nearly central as to its eastern and western boundaries, and
presented a slope inclining towards the south. Its greatest
height was at its northern end, where it rose out of the rich
alluvion of the soil, literally a rock of some forty feet in

THE II UTTED KNOLL. 39

perpendicular height, having a summit of about an acre of
level hind, ami Hilling oll'on its three sides ; to the east and
west precipitously ; to the south quite gently and with rogu-
lariiy. It was this accidental fbmiation which had induced
tin- captain to select the spot as the site of his residence;
for dwelling so far from any post, and in a place so difficult
of access, something like military defences were merely
precautions of ordinary prudence. While the pond remained,
the i.-J.et was susceptible of being made very strong against
any of the usual assaults of Indian warfare; and, now that
the basin was drained, it had great advantages for the same
purpose. The perpendicular rock to the north, even over
hung the plain. It was almost inaccessible; while the
formation on the other sides, offered singular facilities, both
for a dwelling and for security. All this the captain, who
was so familiar with the finesse of Indian stratagem, had
resolved to improve in the following manner :

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 gate-way, 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 tho
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 spaco
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

40 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

on the exterior. Still it had a sombre and goal-like air ,*
there being nothing resembling a window visible ; no aper
ture, indeed, on either of its outer faces, but the open gate
way, 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 bar
racks, 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 won
derful 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 '11 bring
potatoe, and corn, and cider — all 'e squaw want. Cap'in
got e;ood 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

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 41

observed, in a somewhat melancholy tone ; for her tender
thoughts naturally turned towards her youthful and innocent
daugjb

Indian gazed at the house, with that fierce intentness
which somet lilies glared, in a manner tliat 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
wise>t around the council-lire. He was born a chief, and
had made himself an outcast from his tribe, more by the
> of ungovernable passions, than from any act of base
meam

«« Cai/in 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
( >!!< -idas and Mohawks are not all children of heaven."

" No pale-face rogue, go about, I s'pose?" said Nick, sar
castically.

" 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."

" lie 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 tho
4*

42 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

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 water 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

f\ • i • • * * '

friends.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 43

So p.-iyinjz, the captain nodded in a friendly manner, and
led Mrs. Willoughby towards the liut, taking a loot-path
(hat \\as already trodden lirin, 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-mun, with an air of great
blandm-ss, thrusting out a hand, in the pale-face fashion, as
a sign of amity, sayinir, 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 tho
irora 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 ex
pected 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 yon
der, 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'thcr. Make no odd what you call ; I come."

" Och, yer a handy one ! Divil trust ye, but ye '11 como
when you arn't wanted, or yer not of yer father's own
family. D 'ye live hereabouts, masthcr 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
,ed on the other intently, for he actually expected to
see some prodigious and sudden change in his apjx?arance.
When he thought he had got a good position for manly de
fence 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 yc 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 gon< .'"

" Nick help carry 'em. Carry t'ing for dat squaw hun
dred time."

44 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" 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 Quid
Nick, Madam Willoughby wouldn't let the likes of ye
touch the ind of her garments. You would n't get the
liberty to walk in the same path with her, much less to
carry her bundles. I '11 answer for it, ye 're a great liar,
now, ould Nick, in the bottom of your heari."

" 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 '11 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 dialogue, and compre
hending its meaning, with his native readiness, he joined
his companion in a mood but little disposed to clear up the
error.

" Did ye see that crathure ?" asked Mike, with em
phasis. •

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 45

" Sartain — he is often seen hero, at tho Hut. He may bo
said to lis«: here, halt' his time."

" A pritty hut, then, ye must have of it ! Why do ye
tolerate the vagabond ? He 's not lit for Christian society."

"Oh! hi; 's good company, sometimes, Alike. When
you know him better, you '11 like him better. Come ; up
with the bundles, and let us follow. The captain is looking
after us, as you

" Well may he look, to see us in sich company ! — Will
he har-r-m the missus?"

" Not he. I tell you, you '11 like him yourself when you
come to know him."

" If I do, burn me! Why, he says himself, that he's
Ould Nick, and I 'm sure I never fancied the crathure but
it was in just some such for-r-m. Och ! he 's ill-looking
enough, for twenty Ould Nicks."

Lest the reader get an exaggerated notion of Michael's
credulity, it may be well to say that Nick had painted a
few days before, in a fit of caprice, and that one-half of his
face was black, and the other a deep red, while each of his
ryes was surrounded with a circle of white, all of which
had got to be a little confused in consequence of a night or
two of orgies, succeeded by mornings in which the toilet
had been altogether neglected. His dress, too, a blanket
with tawdry red and yellow trimmings, with ornamented
Ironings and moccasins to correspond, had all aided in
maintaining the accidental mystification. Mike followed
his companion, growling out his discontent, and watching
the form of the Indian, as the laftor sfill went loping over
the flat, having passed the captain, with a message to tho
bnrns.

" I '11 warrant yo, now, the captain wouldn't tolerate
such a crathure, but he 's sent him off to the woods, as ye
may sre, like a divil, as he is ! To think of such a thing's
ppakcing to the missus! Will I fight him? — That will I,
rather than he'll say an uncivil word to the likes of her!
He 's claws they tell me, though he kapes them so well co
vered in his fine brogues; divil burn me, but I'd grapple
him by the toes."

Joel now saw how deep was Michael's delusion, and
knowing it must soon be over, he determined to make a

46 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

merit of necessity, by letting his friend into the truth, there
by creating a confidence that would open the way to a
hundred future mischievous scenes.

" Claws !" he repeated, with an air of surprise — " And
why do you think an Injin has claws, Mike ?"

" An Injin ! D'ye call that miscoloured crathure an Injin,
Joel. Isn't it one of yer yankee divilsl"

" Out upon you, for an Irish ninny. Do you think the
captain would board a devil ! The fellow 's a Tuscarora,
and is as well known here as the owner of the Hut himself.
It 's Saucy Nick."

" Yes, saucy Ould Nick — I had it from his very mout',
and even the divil would hardly be such a blackguard as to
lie about his own name. Och ! he 's a roarer, sure enough ;
and then for the tusks you mintion, I didn't see 'em, with
my eyes ; but the crathure has a mouth that might hould a
basket-full."

Joel now perceived that he must go more seriously to
work to undeceive his companion. Mike honestly believed
he had met an American devil, and it required no little ar
gumentation to persuade him of the contrary. We shall
leave Joel employed in this difficult task, in which he finally
succeeded, and follow the captain and his wife to the hut.

The lord and lady of the manor examined everything
around their future residence, with curious eyes. Jamie
Allen, the Scotch mason mentioned, was standing in front
of the house, to hear what might be said of his wall, while
two or three other mechanics betrayed some such agitation
as the tyro in literature manifests, ere he learns what the
critics have said of his first work. The exterior gave great
satisfaction to the captain. The wall was not only solid
and secure, but it was really handsome. This was in some
measure owing to the quality of the stones, but quite as
much to Jamie's dexterity in using them. The wall and
chimneys, of the latter of which there were no less than
six, were all laid in lime, too ; it having been found neces
sary to burn some of the material to plaster the interior.
Then the gates were massive, being framed in oak, filled
in with four-inch plank, and might have resisted a very
formidable assault. Their strong iron hinges were all
in their places, but the heavy job of hanging had been de-

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 47

ferred to a leisure moment, when all the strength of the
manor might be collected for that purpose. There they
stood, inclining against tin: wall, one on each side of the
gate- way, like indolent sentinels on post, who felt too secure
1 miu attack to raise their eyes.

The dillerent mechanics crowded round the captain, each
eager to show his own portion of what had been done. The
winter had not been wasted, but, proper materials bein<j in
abundance, and on the spot, captain Willoughby had every
reason to be satisfied with what he got tor his money.
Completely shut out from the rest of the world, the men had
worked cheerfully and with little interruption ; for their la
bours composed their recreation. Mrs. Willoughby il»und the
part of the building her family was to occupy, with the usual
offices, done and furnished. * This comprised all the front
on the eastern side of the gate-way, and most of the wing,
in the same half, extending back to the cliff. It is true, the
finish was plain ; but everything was comfortable. The
ceilings were only ten feet high certainly, but it was thought
prodigious in the colony in that day ; and then the plaster
ing of Jamie was by no means as unexceptionable as his
stone-work ; still every room had its two coats, and white
wash gave them a clean and healthful aspect. The end of
the wing that came next the cliff was a laundry, and a pump
was fitted, by means of which water was raised from the
rivulet. Next came the kitchen, a spacious and comfortable
room of thirty by twenty feet ; an upper-servant's apartment
succeeded ; after which were the bed-rooms of the family,
a large parlour, and a library, or office, for the captain. As
the entire range, on this particular side of the house, extend
ed near or quite two hundred and fifty feet, there was no
want of space or accommodation.

The opposite, or western half of the edifice, was devoted
to more homely uses. It contained an eating-room and
divers sleeping-rooms far the domestics and labourers, be-
sides store-rooms, garners, and omnium gathcrums of all
sorts. The vast ranges of garrets, too, answered for various
purposes of household and farming economy. All the win
dows, and sundry doors, opened into the court, while the
whole of the exterior wall, both wooden and stone, presented
a perfect blank, in the way of outlets. It was the captain's

48 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

intention, however, to cut divers loops through the logs, at
some convenient moment, so that men stationed in the gar
rets might command the different faces of the structure with
their musketry. But, like the gates, these means of defence
•were laid aside for a more favourable opportunity.

Our excellent matron was delighted with her domestic
arrangements. They much surpassed any of the various
barracks in which she had dwelt, and a smile of happiness
beamed on her handsome face, as she followed her husband
from room to room, listening to his explanations. When
they entered their private apartments, and these were fur
nished and ready to receive them, respect caused the rest
to leave them by themselves, and once more they found that
they were atone.

" Well, Wilhelmina," asked the gratified husband — grati
fied, because he saw pleasure beaming in the mild counte
nance and serene blue eyes of one of the best wives living —
" Well, Wilhelmina," he asked, " can you give up Albany,
and all the comforts of your friends' dwellings, to be satis
fied in a home like this? It is not probable I shall ever
build again, whatever Bob may do, when ke comes after
me. This structure, then, part house, part barrack, part
fort, as it is, must be our residence for the remainder of our
days. We are hutted for life."

" It is all-sufficient, Willoughby. It has space, comfort,
warmth, coolness and security. What more can a wife and
a mother ask, when she is surrounded by those she most
loves 1 Only attend to the security, Hugh. Remember how
far we are removed from any succour, and how sudden and
fierce the Indians are in their attacks. Twice have we,
ourselves, been near being destroyed by surprises, from
which accident, or God's providence, protected us, rather
than our own vigilance. If this could happen in garrisons,
and with king's troops around us, how much more easily
might it happen here, with only common labourers to watch
what is going on !"

" You exaggerate the danger, wife. There are no Indians,
in this part of the country, who would dare to molest a set
tlement like ours. We count thirteen able-bodied men in
all, besides seven women, and could use seventeen or eigh
teen muskets and rifles on an emergency. No tribe would

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 49

dare commence hostilities, in a time of general peace, and
so near the settlements too ; and, as to stragglers, who
might indt -(.'(.I immK-r to rob, we arc so strong, ourselves,
that we may sleep in peace, so far as they are concerned."

*' One never knows that, dearest Hugh. A marauding
party of half-a-dozen might prove too much for many times
their own number, when unprepared. I do hope you will
have the gates hung, at least ; should the girls come here,
in the autumn, I could not sleep without hanging the guu-s.''

" Fear nothing, love," said the captain, kissing his wife,
with manly tenderness. " As for Beulah and Maud, let them
come when they please; we shall always have a welcome
for them, and no place can be safer than'under their father's
eyes."

" I care not so much for myself, Hugh, but do not let the
gates be forgotten until the girls come."

" Everything shall be done as you desire, wife of mine,
though it will be a hard job to get two such confounded
heavy loads of wood on their hinges. We must take some
day when everybody is at home, and everybody willing to
work. Saturday next, I intend to have a review ; and, once
a month, the year round, there will be a muster, when all
the arms are to be cleaned and loaded, and orders given
how to act in case of an alarm. An old soldier would be
disgraced to allow himself to be run down by mere vaga
bonds. My pride is concerned, and you may sleep in
peace."

" Yes, rfo, dearest Hugh." — Then the matron proceeded
through the rooms, expressing her satisfaction at the care-
which had been had for her comfort, in her own rooms in
particular.

Sooth to say, the interior of the Hut presented that odd
contrast between civilization and rude expedients, which so
frequently occurs on an American frontier, where persons
educated in refinement often find themselves brought in closo
collision with savage life. Carpets, in America, and in the
year of our Lord 1765, were not quite as much a matter of
course in domestic economy, as they are to-day. Still they
were to be found, though it was rare, indeed, that they cover
ed more than the centre of the room. One of these great
essentials, without which no place can appear comfortable
VOL. 1.— 5.

50 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

in a cold climate, was spread on the floor of Mrs. Willough-
by's parlour — a room that served for both eating and as g
sala, the Knight's Hall of the Hut, measuring twenty by
twenty-four feet — though in fact this carpet concealed exactly
two-thirds of the white clean plank. Then the chairs were
massive and even rich, while one might see his face in the
dark mahogany of the tables. There were cellarets — the
captain being a connoisseur in wines — bureaus, secretaries,
beaufets, and other similar articles, that had been collected
in the course of twenty years' housekeeping, and scattered
at different posts, were collected, and brought hither by
means of sledges, and the facilities of the water-courses.
Fashion had little to do with furniture, in that simple age,
when the son did not hesitate to wear even the clothes of
the father, years and years after the tailor had taken leave
of them. Massive old furniture, in particular, lasted for
generations, and our matron now saw many articles that
had belonged to her grandfather assembled beneath the first
roof that she could ever strictly call her own.

Mrs. Willoughby took a survey of the offices last. Here
she found, already established, the two Plinies, with Man',
the sister of the elder Pliny, Bess, the wife of the younger,
and Mony — alias Desdemona — a collateral of the race, by
ties and affinities that garter-king-at-arms could not have
traced genealogically ; since he would have been puzzled
to say whether the woman was the cousin, or aunt, or step
daughter of MaH', or all three. All the women were hard
at work, Bess singing in a voice that reached the adjoining
forest. Marz' — this name was pronounced with a strong
emphasis on the last syllable, or like Maria, without the
final vowel — Mari' was the head of the kitchen, even Pliny
the elder standing in salutary dread of her authority ; and
her orders to her brother and nephew were pouring forth,
in an English that was divided into three categories ; the
Anglo-Saxon, the Low Dutch, and the Guinea dialect ; a
medley that rendered her discourse a droll assemblage of
the vulgar and the classical.

" Here, niggers," she cried, " why you don't jump about
like Paus dance? Ebbery t'ing want a hand, and some
want a foot. Plate to wash, crockery to open, water to

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 51

Vile, dcm knife to clean, and nol'ing missed. Lord, here 's
a niruiain, and 'o whole kitchen in a dill'usion."

" Well, Mart'," exclaimed the captain, good-naturedly,
'* here you are, scolding away as if you had been in the
place these six months, and knew all its faults and weak-

"Can't help a scold, master, in sich a time as dis — •
come away from dem plates, you Great Smash, and let a
proper hand take hold on 'em."

Here we ought to say, that captain Willoughhy had chris
tened Bess by the sobriquet of Great Smash, on account of
her size, which fell little short of two hundred, estimated in
pounds, and a certain facility she possessed in destroying
crockery, while 'Mony went by the milder appellation of
" Little Smash ;" not that bowls or plates fared any better
in her hands, but because she weighed only one hundred
and eighty.

" Dis is what I tell 'em, master," continued Mari', in a re
monstrating, argumentative sort of a tone, with dogmatism
and respect singularly mingled in her manner — "Dis,
massa, just what I tell 'em all. I tell 'em, says I, this is
Hunter Knoll, and not All&owny — here no store — no place
to buy t'ing if you break 'em ; no good woman who know
ebbery t'ing, to tell you where to find t'ing, if you lose him.
If dere was only good woman, dat somet'ing ; but no fortun'-
teller out here in de bushes — no, no — when a silber spoon
go, here, he go for good and all — Goody, massy" — staring
at something in the court — " what he call dat, sa ?"

" That — oh ! that is only an Indian hunter I keep about
me, to bring us game — you '11 never have an empty spit,
Mart', as long as he is with us. Fear nothing ; he will not
harm you. His name is Nick."

"De O/eNick, m:.

" No, only Saucy Nick. The fellow is a little slovenly
to-day in his appearance, and you see he has brought already
several partridges, besides a rabbit. We shall have venison,
in the season."

Here nil tho negroes, after staring at Nick, quite a min
ute, set up a loud shout, laughing as if the Tuscarora had
been created for their special amusement. Although the
captain was somewhat of a martinet in his domestic disci-

52 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

pline, it had ever altogether exceeded his authority, or hi3
art, to prevent these bursts of merriment ; and he led his
wife away from the din, leaving Mari', Great Smash, and
Little Smash, with the two Plinies, in ecstasies at their own
uproar. Burst succeeded burst, until the Indian walked
away, in offended dignity.

Such was the commencement of the domestication of the
Willoughbys at the Hutted Knoll. The plan of our tale
does not require us to follow them minutely for the few
succeeding years, though some further explanation may be
necessary to show why this settlement varied a little from
the ordinary course.

That very season, or, in the summer of 1765, Mrs. Wil-
loughby inherited some real estate in Albany, by the death
of an uncle, as well as a few thousand pounds currency, in
ready money. This addition to his fortune made the cap
tain exceedingly comfortable ; or, for that day, rich ; and it
left him to act his pleasure as related to his lands. Situated
as these last were, so remote from other settlements as to
render highways, for some time, hopeless, he saw no use in
endeavouring to anticipate the natural order of things. It
would only create embarrassment to raise produce that
could not be sent to market ; and he well knew that a popu
lation of any amount could not exist, in quiet, without the
usual attendants of buying and selling. Then it suited his
own taste to be the commander-in-chief of an isolated esta
blishment like this ; and he was content to live in abundance,
on his flats, feeding his people, his cattle, and even his hogs
to satiety, and having wherewithal to send away the occa
sional adventurer, who entered his clearing, contented and
happy.

Thus it was that he neither sold nor leased. No person
dwelt on his land who was not a direct dependant, or hire
ling, and all that the earth yielded he could call his own.
Nothing was sent abroad for sale but cattle. Every year,
a small drove of fat beeves and milch cows found their way
through the forest to Albany, and the proceeds returned in
the shape of foreign supplies. The rents, and the interests
on bonds, were left to accumulate, or were applied to aid
Robert in obtaining a new step in the army. Lands began
to be granted nearer and nearer to his own, and here and

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 53

there some old officer like himself, or a solitary farmer, be
gan to cut away the wilderness; but none in his immediate
vicinity.

Still" the captain did not live altogether as a hermit. He
veiled Edmcston of Mount Edmeston, a neighbour Irs;
than fitly miles distant; was occasionally seen at Johnson
Hall, with Sir William; or at the bachelor establishment
of Sir John, on the Mohawk ; and once or twice he so fur
overcame his indolence, as to consent to serve as a memh'-r
for a new county, that was called Tryon, after a ruling
governor.

CHAPTER IV.

» .

Hail ! sober evening ! Thee the harass'd brain
And aching heart with fond orisons greet;
The respite thou of toil; the balm of pain ;
To thoughtful mind the hour for musing meet :
'Tis then the sage from forth his lone retreat,
The rolling universe around espies;
'Tis then the bard may hold communion sweet
With lovely shapes unkcnncd by grosser eyes,
And quick perception comes of finer mysteries.

SANDS.

IN the preceding chapter we closed the minuter narrative
with a scene at the Hut, in the spring of 1765. We must
now advance the time just ten years, opening, anew, in the
month of May, 1775. This, it is scarcely necessary to tell
the reader, is bringing him at once up to the earliest days
of the revolution. The contest which preceded that great
event had in fact occurred in the intervening time, and wo
are now about to plunge into the current of some of the
minor incidents of the struggle itself.

Ten years are a century in the history of a perfectly now
settlement. The changes they produce are even surprising,
though in ordinary cases they do not suffice to erase the
signs of a recent origin. The forest is opened, and the light
of day admitted, it is true; but its remains are still to be
seen in multitudes of unsightly stumps, dead standing trees,
and ill-looking stubs. These vestiges of the savage state

54 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

usually remain a quarter of a century ; in certain regions
they are to be found for even more than twice that period.
All this, however, had captain Willoughby escaped, in con
sequence of limiting his clearing, in a great measure, to that
which had been made by the beavers, and from which time
and natural decay had, long before his arrival, removed
every ungainly object. It is true, here and there a few acres
had been cleared on the firmer ground, at the margin of the
flats, where barns and farm buildings had been built, and
orchards planted ; but, in order to preserve the harmony of
his view, the captain had caused all the stumps to be pulled
and burnt, giving to these places the same air of agricul
tural finish as characterized the fields on the lower land.

To this sylvan scene, at a moment which preceded the
setting of the sun by a little more than an hour, and in the
first week of the genial month of May, we must now bring
the reader in fancy. The season had been early, and the
Beaver Manor, or the part of it which was cultivated, lying
low and sheltered, vegetation had advanced considerably
beyond the point that is usual, at that date, in the elevated
region of which we have been writing. The meadows were
green with matted grasses, the wheat and rye resembled
rich velvets, and the ploughed fields had the fresh and mel
lowed appearance of good husbandry and a rich soil. The
shrubbery, of which the captain's English taste had intro
duced quantities, was already in leaf, and even portions of
the forest began to veil their sombre mysteries with the de
licate foliage of an American spring.

The site of the ancient pond was a miracle of rustic
beauty. Everything like inequality or imperfection had
disappeared, the whole presenting a broad and picturesquely
shaped basin, with outlines fashioned principally by nature,
an artist that rarely fails in effect. The flat was divided
into fields by low>post-and-rail fences, the captain making
it a law to banish all unruly animals from his estate. The
barns and out-buildings were neatly made and judiciously
placed, and the three or four roads, or lanes, that led to
them, crossed the low-land in such graceful curves, as
greatly to increase the beauty of the landscape. Here and
there a log cabin was visible, nearly buried in the forest,
with a few necessary and neat appliances around it ; the

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 55

homes of labourers who had long dwelt in them, and who
seemed content to pass their lives in the same place. As
most of these men had married and become fathers, the
whole colony, including children, notwithstanding the cap-
policy not to settle, had grown to considerably more
than a hundred souls, of whom three-and-twenty were able-
bodied men. Among the latter were the millers ; but, their
mills were buried in the ravine where they had been first
placed, quite out of sight from the picture above, concealing
all the unavoidable and ungainly-looking objects of a saw
mill yard.

As a matter of course, the object of the greatest interest,
as it was the most conspicuous, was the Hutted Knoll, as
the house was now altogether called, and the objects it con
tained. Thither, then, we will now direct our attention, and
describe things as they appeared ten years after they were
first presented to the reader.

The same agricultural finish as prevailed on the flats
pervaded every object on the Knoll, though some labour had
been expended to produce it. Everything like a visible
rock, the face of the clifFon the northern end cxcepted, had
disappeared, the stones having been blasted, and either
worked into walls for foundations, or walls for fence. The
entire base of the Knoll, always excepting the little precipice
at the rivulet, was encircled by one of the latter, erected
under the superintendence of Jamie Allen, who still remain
ed at the Hut, a bachelor, and as he said himself, a happy
man. The southern face of the Knoll was converted into
lawn, trfere being quite two acres intersected with walks,
and well garnished with shrubbery. What was unusual in
America, at that day, the captain, owing to his English
education, had avoided straight lines, and formal paths;
giving to the little spot the improvement on nature which is
a consequence of embellishing her works without destroying
them. On each side of this "lawn was an orchard, thrifty
and young, and which were already beginning to show signs
of putting forth their blossoms.

About the Hut itself, the appearance of change was not
BO manifest. Captain Willoughby had caused it to be con
structed originally, as he intended to preserve it, and it
formed no part of his plan to cover it with tawdry colours.

56 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

There it stood, brown above, and grey beneath, as wood or
stone was the material, with a widely projecting roof. It
had no piazzas, or stoups, and was still without external
•windows, one range excepted. The loops had been cut, but
it was more for the benefit of lighting the garrets, than for
any other reason, all of them being glazed, and serving the
end for which they had been pierced. The gates remained
precisely in the situation in which they were, when last
presented to the eye of the reader! There they stood, each
leaning against the wall on its own side of the gate-way,
the hinges beginning to rust, by time and exposure. Ten
years had not produced a day of sufficient leisure in which
to hang them : though Mrs. Willoughby frequently spoke of
the necessity of doing so, in the course of the first summer.
Even she had got to be so familiarized to her situation, and
so accustomed to seeing the leaves where they stood, that
she now regarded them as a couple of sleeping lions in stone,
or as characteristic ornaments, rather than as substantial
defences to the entrance of the dwelling.

The interior of the Hut, however, had undergone many
alterations. The western half had been completed, and
handsome rooms had been fitted up for guests and inmates
of the family, in the portion of the edifice occupied by the
latter. Additional comforts had been introduced, and, the
garners, cribs and lodgings of the labourers having been
transferred to the skirts of the forest, the house was more
strictly and exclusively the abode of a respectable and well-
regulated family. In the rear, too, a wing had been thrown
along the verge of the clifF, completely enclosing the court.
This wing, which overhung the rivulet, and had, not only a
most picturesque site, but a most picturesque and lovely
view, now contained the library, parlour and music-room,
together with other apartments devoted to the uses of the
ladies, during the day ; the old portions of the house that
had once been similarly occupied being now converted into
sleeping apartments. The new wing was constructed en
tirely of massive squared logs, so as to render it bullet-proof,
there being no necessity for a stone foundation, standing, as
it did, on the verge of a cliff some forty feet in height. This
was the part of the edifice which had external windows,
the elevation removing it from the danger of inroads, or

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 57

hostile shot, while the air and view were both grateful and
desirable. S«.me extra attention had been paid to the ap-
pea ranee of the meadows on this side of the Knoll, and the
captain had studiously kept their skirts, as far as th
could see from the windows, in virgin forest; placing tbo
barns, cabins, and other detached buildings, so far south as
to be removed from view. Beulah U'illonghby, a gentle,
tranquil creature, had a profound admiration of the beauties
of nature; and to her, her parents bad yielded the control
of everything that was considered accessary to the mere
charms of the eye ; her taste had directed most of that
which had not been effected by the noble luxuriance of na
ture. Wild roses were already putting forth their leaves in
various fissures of the rocks, where earth had been ;
for their support, and the margin of the little stream, that
actually washed the base of the cliff, winding off in a
charming sweep through the meadows, a rivulet of less than
twenty feet in width, was garnished with willows and alder.
Quitting this sylvan spot, we will return to the little shrub-
adorned area 'in front of the Hut. This spot the captain
called his glacis, while his daughters termed it the lawn.
The hour, it will be remembered, was shortly before sunset,
and thither nearly all the family had repaired to breathe the
freshness of the pure air, arid bathe in the genial warmth of

-on, which is ever so grateful to those who have, re
cently escaped from the rigour of a stern winter. Rude,
and sufficiently picturesque garden-seats, were scattered
about, and on one of these were seated the captain and his
wife; he, with his hair sprinkled with grey, a hale, athletic,
healthy man of sixty, and she a fresh-looking, mild-featured,
and still handsome matron of forty-eight. In front, stood a

table-looking personage, of small stature, dJKsaed in
rusty black, of the cut that denoted the attire of a clergy
man, before it was considered aristocratic to wear the out
ward symbols of belonging to the dnuvh <>f <;<>d. This uas
the Rev. Jedidiah Woods, a native of New England, who
had long served as a chaplain in the same regiment \\ith the
captain, and who, being a bachelor, on retired pay, had
dwelt with his old messmate for the last right years, in tbo
double capacity of one who exercised the healing art as well
for the soul as for the body. To his other offices, he added

58 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

that of an instructor, in various branches of knowledge, to
the young people. The chaplain, for so he was called by
everybody in and around the Hut, was, at the moment of
which we are writing, busy in expounding to his friends
certain nice distinctions that existed, or which he fancied to
exist, between a torn-cod and a chub, the former of which
fish he very erroneously conceived he held in his hand at
that moment ; the Rev. Mr. Woods being a much better
angler than naturalist. To his dissertation Mrs. Willoughby
listened with great good-nature, endeavouring all the while
to feel interested ; while her husband kept uttering his " by
all means," " yes," " certainly," " you're quite right, Woods,"
his gaze, at the same time, fastened on Joel Strides, and
Pliny the elder, who were unharnessing their teams, on the
flats beneath, having just finished a " land," and deeming it
too late to commence another.

Beulah, her pretty face shaded by a large sun-bonnet,
was superintending the labours of Jamie Allen, who, finding
nothing just then to do as a mason, was acting in the capacity
of gardener ; his hat was thrown upon the grass, with his
white locks bare, and he was delving about some shrubs,
with the intention of giving them the benefit of a fresh
dressing of manure. Maud, however, without a hat of any
sort, her long, luxuriant, silken, golden tresses covering her
shoulders, arid occasionally veiling her warm, rich cheek,
was exercising with a battledore, keeping Little Smash, now
increased in size to quite fourteen stone, rather actively em
ployed as an assistant, whenever the exuberance of her own
spirits caused her to throw the plaything beyond her reach.
In one of the orchards, near by, two men were employed
trimming the trees. To these the captain next turned all
his attention, just as he had encouraged the chaplain to per
severe, by exclaiming, " out of all question, my dear sir" —
though he was absolutely ignorant that the other had just
advanced a downright scientific heresy. At this critical
moment a cry from Little Smash, that almost equalled a
downfall of crockery in its clamour, drew every eye in her
direction.

" What is the matter, Desdemona?" asked the chaplain,
a little tartly, by no means pleased at having his natural
history startled by sounds so inapplicable to the subject.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 59

" How often have I told you that the Lord views with dis
pleasure anything so violent and improper as your out
cries!"

" Can't help him, dominie — nebber can help him, whuu
he take me sudden. See, masser, dere come Ole Nick !"

There was Nick, sure enough. For the first time, in
more than two years, the Tuscarora was seen approaching
the house, on the long, loping trot that he affected when he
wished to seem busy, or honestly earning his money. He
was advancing by the only road that was ever travelled by
the stranger as he approached the Hut ; or, he came up the
valley. As the woman spoke, he had just made his appear
ance over the rocks, in the direction of the mills. At that
distance, quite half a mile, he would not have been recog
nised, but for this gait, which was too familiar to all at the
Knoll, however, to be mistaken.

" That is Nick, sure enough !" exclaimed the captain.
" The fellow comes at the pace of a runner ; or, as if he
were the bearer of 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 depre
cate 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 torn-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 ho
asks?"

CO THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" I have thought little about it, and care less, my dear.
Nick and I know each other pretty well. It is an acquaint
ance 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 T' asked the chap
lain, with a grave air, and a look of surprise.

" I fancy a savage is quite as apt to forgive it, as a civil
ized 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 conver
sation ceased, all standing gazing at him, as he drew near,
and Maud gathering up her hair, with maiden bash fulness,
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 be
tray 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

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 61

welcome back, Nick ; I am glad to see you still so ac
tive."

Sago"— answered the guttural voice of the Indian, who

nodded his head.

'• What will you have to refresh you, after such a jour
ney, Nick — our trees give us good cider, now."

" Santa Cruz better," — rejoined the sententious Tusca-
rora.

" 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 1 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 rush
ing forward to meet her. Suddenly the girl stopped, threw
herself on a log, and hid her face. In a few minutes sho
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,
VOL. I.— 6

62 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

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 Mart', 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 excite
ment prevailed the rest of the day, for the sudden arrival
of a guest always produced a sensation in that retired set
tlement ; much more likely, then, was the unexpected ap
pearance of the only son and heir to create one. As every
body bustled and was in motion, the whole family was in
the parlour, and major Willoughby was receiving the grate
ful 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 reso
lution to appear composed and soldier-like.

11 1 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

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 63

Willoughby ; after that I owed each step to hard and long
service. Your mother's I'-gacir.s have helped you along, at
a faster rate, though 1 do trust there has been some merit
to aid in the prcfrmx'iit.''

" Speaking »>f Sir Harry Willoughby, sir, reminds me of
one part of my errand to the Hut," said the major, glancing

• towards his father, as if to prepare him for somo
unexpected intelligence.

'• What of my cousin?" demanded the captain, calmly.
44 Wo 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

• mr friend Woods is one of the family."

" Sir Harry Willoughby is not married, sir, but dead."
11 Dead !" repeated the captain, setting down his cup, liko
one who received a sudden shock. " I hope not without
having been reconciled to his daughter, and providing for
her large family f

" He died in her arms, and escaped the consequences of
his silly intention to marry his own housekeeper. With
one material exception, he has left Mrs. Bowater his whole
fortune."

The captain sat thoughtful, for some time ; every one else
being silent and attentive. But the mother's feelings piompt-
ed her to inquire as to the nature of the exception.

" Why, mother, contrary to all my expectations, and I
may say wishes, he has left me twenty-five thousand pounds
in the fives. I only hold the money as my father's trustee."

" You do no such thing, Master Bob, I can tell you !" said
the captain, with emphasis.

The son looked at the father, a moment, as if to see whe
ther he was understood, and then he proceeded —

" I presume you remember, sir," said the major, " that
you are the heir to the title?"

" 1 have not forgot that, major Willoughby ; but what is
an empty baronetcy to a happy husband and father liko
me, hore in the wilds of America ? Were I still in the army,
and a colonel, the thing might be of use; as I am, I would
rather have a tolerable road from this place to the Mohawk,
than the duchy of Norfolk, without the estate."

64 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" Estate there is none, certainly," returned the major, in
a tone of a little disappointment, " except the twenty-five
thousand pounds ; unless you include that which you possess
\vhere you are ; not insignificant, by the way, sir."

" It will do well enough for old Hugh Willoughby, late a
captain in His Majesty's 23d Regiment of Foot, but not so
well for Sir Hugh. No, no, Bob. Let the baronetcy sleep
a\vhile ; it has been used quite enough for the last hundred
years or more. Out of this circle, there are probably not
ten persons in America, who know that 1 have any claims
to it."

The major coloured, and he played with the spoon of his
empty cup, stealing a glance or two around, before he an
swered.

" I beg your pardon, Sir Hugh — my dear father, I mean
— but — to own the truth, never anticipating such a decision
on your part, I have spoken of the thing to a good many
friends — I dare say, if the truth were known, I've called you
the baronet, or Sir Hugh, to others, at least a dozen times."
" Well, should it be so, the thing will be forgotten. A
parson can be unfrocked, Woods, and a baronet can be un-
baroneted, I suppose."

" But, Sir William" — so everybody called the well-known
Sir William Johnson, in the colony of New York — " But,
Sir William found it useful, Willoughby, and so, I dare say,
will his son and successor, Sir John," observed the attentive
wife and anxious mother; "and if you are not now in the
army, Bob is. It will be a good thing for our son one day,
and ought not to be lost."

" Ah, I see how it is, Beulah ; your mother has no notion
to lose the right of being called Lady Willoughby."

" I am sure my mother, sir, wishes to be 'called nothing
that does not become your wife ; if you remain Mr. Hugh
Willoughby, she will remain Mrs. Hugh Willough'uy. But
papa, it might be useful to Bob."

Beulah was a great favourite with the captain, Maud be
ing only his darling; he listened always to whatever the
former said, therefore, with indulgence and respect. He
often told the chaplain that his daughter Beulah had the true
feelings of her sex, possessing a sort of instinct for whatever
was right and becoming, in woman.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. G5

"Well, U..b may have the baronetcy, thru," ho said,
smiling. "Major Sir Robert Willoughby will not sound
amiss in a di.-spatch."

"But, Bob cannot have it, father," exclaimed Maud —
'• N«i one can have it but you; and it's a pity it should be
lost."

" Lot him wait, then, until I am out of the way ; when he
may claim his own."

" Can that be done?" inquired the mother, to whom no
thing was without interest that affected her children. " How
is it, Mr. Woods ? — may a title be dropped, and then picked
up again 1 — how is this, Robert ?"

" 1 believe it may, my dear mother — it will always exist,
so long as there is an heir, and my father's disrelish for it
will not be binding on me."

" Oh ! in that case, then, all will come right in the end —
though, as your father does not want it, I wish you could
have it, now."

This was said with the most satisfied air in the world, as
if the speaker had no possible interest in the matter herself,
and it closed the conversation, for that time. It was not
easy to keep up an interest in anything that related to the
family, where Mrs. Willoughby was concerned, in which
heart did not predominate. A baronetcy was a considerable
dignity in the colony of New York in the year of our Lord,
1775, and it gave its possessor far more importance than it
would have done in England. In the whole colony there
was but one, though a good many were to be found Ifurther
south ; and he was known as " Sir John," as, in England,
Lord Rockingham, or, in America, at a later day, La Fayette,
was known as " The Marquis." Under such circumstances,
then, it would have been no trifling sacrifice to an ordinary
woman to forego the pleasure of being called " my lady.'
But the sacrifice cost our matron no pain, no regrets, no
thought even. The same attachments which made her
happy, away from the world, in the wilderness where she
dwelt, supplanted all other feelings, and left her no room,
or leisure, to think of such vanities. When the discourse
changed, it was understood that " Sir Hugh"- was not to be
" Sir Hugh," and that " Sir Robert"" must bide his time.
" Where did you fall in with the Tuscarora, Bob?" sud-
6*

66 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

denly asked the captain, as much to bring up another sub
ject, as through curiosity. " The fellow had been so long
away, I began to think we should n^ver see him again."

" He tells me, sir, he has been on a war path, somewhere
out among the western savages. It seems these Indians
fight among themselves, from time to time, and Nick has
been trying to keep his hand in. I found him down at
Canajoharie, and took him for a guide, though he had the
honesty to own he was on the point of coming over here,
had I not engaged him."

" I '11 answer for it he didn't tell you that, until you had
paid him for the job."

" Why, to own the truth, he did not, sir. He pretended
something about owing money in the village, and got his
pay in advance. I learned his intentions only when we
were within a few miles of the Hut."

" I 'm glad to find, Bob, that you give the place its proper
name. How gloriously Sir Hugh Willoughby, Bart., of
The Hut, Tryon county, New York, would sound, Woods !
— Did Nick boast of the scalps he has taken from the Car
thaginians ?"

" He lays claim to three, I believe, though I have seen
none of his trophies."

" The Roman hero ! — Yet, I have known Nick rather a
dangerous warrior. He was out against us, in some of my
earliest service, and our acquaintance was made by my
saving his life from the bayonet of one of my own grena
diers. I thought the fellow remembered the act for some
years ; but, in the end, I believe I flogged all the gratitude
out of him. His motives, now, are concentrated in the little
island of Santa Cruz."

" Here he is, father," said Maud, stretching her light,
flexible form out of a window. " Mike and the Indian are
seated at the lower spring, with a jug between them, and
appear to be in a deep conversation."

" Ay, I remember on their first acquaintance, that Mike
mistook Saucy Nick, for Old Nick. The Indian was in
dignant for a while, at being mistaken for the Evil Spirit,
but the worthies soon found a bond of union between them,
and, before six months, he and the Irishman became sworn
friends. It is said whenever two human beings love a

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 67

common principle, that it never fails to make them firm
allies."

" And what was the prnciple, in this case, captain WiU
loti-hby r inquired the chaplain, with curiosity.

•• S.snta Cm/.. Mike renounced whiskey altogether, after
he came to America, and took to rum. As for Nick, he
was never so vulgar as to find pleasure in the former
Jiqnor."

The whole party had gathered to the windows, while tho
discourse was proceeding, and looking out, each individual
saw Mike and his friend, in the situation described hy Maud.
The two amateur* — connoisseurs would not be misapplied,
cither — had seated themselves at the brink of a spring of
delicious water; and removing the corn-cob that Pliny the
younger had felt it to be classical to affix to the nozzle of a
quart jug,'had, some time before, commenced the delightful
recreation of sounding the depth, not of the spring, but of
the vessel. As respects the former, Mike, who was a wag
in his way, had taken a hint from a practice said to be com
mon in Ireland, called " potatoe and point," which means
to eat the potatoe and point at the butter; declaring that
" rum and p'int" was every bit as entertaining as a " p'int
of rum." On this principle, then, with a broad grin on a
face that opened from ear to ear whenever he laughed, tho
county Leitrim-man would gravely point his finger at the
water, in a sort of mock-homage, and follow up the move
ment with such a suck at the nozzle, as, aided by the efforts
•k, soon analyzed the upper half of the liquor that had
entered by that very passage. All this time, conversation
did not flag, and, as the parties grew warm, confidence in-
cr<-a<e<l, though reason sensibly diminished. As a part of
this discourse will have some bearing on what is to follow,
it may be in place to relate it, here.

" Yer'e a jewel, ye be, oi/Id Nick, or young Nick !" cried
Mike, in an ecstasy of friendship, just after he had com
pleted his first half-pint. " Yer'e as wilrome at the Huts,
as if ye owned thim, and I love ye as I did my own bro
ther, More I left the county Leitrim — paioe to his sowl !"

" He dead?" asked Nick, sententiously ; for he had lived
enough among the pale-faces to have some notions of their
theory about the soul.

68 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" That's more than I know — but, living or dead, the man
must have a sovvl, ye understand, Nicholas. A human
crathure widout a sowl, is what I call a heretick ; and none
of the O'Hearns ever came to that."

Nick was tolerably drunk, but by no means so far gone,
that he had not manners enough to make a grave, and some
what dignified gesture ; which was as much as to say he was
familiar with the subject.

" All go ole fashion here?" he asked, avoiding every ap
pearance of curiosity, however.

" That does it — that it does, Nicholas. All goes ould
enough. The captain begins to get ould; and the missus is
ouldcr than she used to be; and Joel's wife looks a hundred,
though she isn't t'irty ; and Joel, himself, the spalpeen — he
looks — " a gulp at the jug stopped the communication.

" Dirty, too ?" added the sententious Tuscarora, who did
not comprehend more than half his friend said.

" Ay, dir-r-ty — he's always that. He's a dirthy fellow,
that thinks his yankee charactur is above all other things."

Nick's countenance became illuminated with an expres
sion nowise akin to that produced by rum, and he fastened
on his companion one of his fiery gazes, which occasionally
seemed to penetrate to the centre of the object looked at.

" Why pale-face hate one anoder? Why Irishman don't
love yankee ?"

" Och ! love the crathure, is it? You'd bctther ask me to
love a to'd" — for so Michael would pronounce the word
* toad.' " What is there to love about him, but skin and
bone ! I'd as soon love a skilitcn. Yes — an immortal skiliten."

Nick made another gesture, and then he endeavoured to
reflect, like one who had a grave business in contemplation.
The Santa Cruz confused his brain, but the Indian never
entirely lost his presence of mind ; or never, at least, so
long as he could either see or walk.

" Don't like him"— rejoined Nick. " Like anybody ?"

" To be sure I does — I like the capt'in — och, Tie's a jon-
tleman — and I likes the missus ; she's a laddy — and I likes
Miss Beuly, who's a swate young woman — and then there's
Miss Maud, who's the delight of my eyes. Fegs, but isn't
fthe a crathure to relish !"

Mike spoke like a good honest fellow, as he was at the

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 69

bottom, with all his heart and soul. The Indian did not
seem pleased, but he made no answer.

" You've been in the wars then, Nick ?" asked the Irish
man, after a short pause.

" Yes — Nick been chief ag'in — take scalps."

" Ach ! That's a mighty ugly thrade! If you'd tell 'em
that in Ireland, they'd not think it a possibility."

" No like fight in Ireland, hah ?"

" I'll not say that — no, I'll not say that ; for many's the
jollification at which the fighting is the chafe amusement.
But we likes thumping on the head — not skinning it."

" That your fashion — my fashion take scalp. You thump;
I skin — which best ?"

" Augh ! skinnin' is a dreadthful operation ; but shillaleh-
work comes nately and nat'rally. How many of these said
scalps, now, may ye have picked up, Nick, in yer last
journey ?"

" T'ree — all man and woman — no pappoose. One big
enough make two; so call him four.11

" Oh ! Divil burn ye, Nick ; but there's a spice of your
namesake in ye, aftherall. T'ree human crathures skinned,
and you not satisfied, and so ye'll chait a bit to make 'em
four ! D'ye never think, now, of yer latther ind ? D'ye
never confess?"

" T'ink every day of dat. Hope to find more, before last
day come. Plenty scalp here; ha, Mike?"

This was said a little incautiously, perhaps, but it was
said under a strong native impulse. The Irishman, however,
was never very logical or clear-headed ; and three gills of
rum had, by no means, helped to purify his brain. He
heard the word " plenty," knew he was well fed and warmly
clad, and just now, that Santa Cruz so much abounded, tho
term seemed peculiarly applicable.

" It's a plinthiful place it is, is this very manor. There'?
all sorts of things in it that's wanted. There's food and
raiment, and cattle, and grain, and porkers, and praichinir —
yes, divil burn it, Nick, but there's what goes for praiching,
though it's no more like what we calls praiching than yer'e
like Miss Maud in comeliness, and ye'll own, yourself, Nick,
ycr'e no beauty."

" Got handsome hair," said Nick, surlily — " How she
look widout scalp ?"

70 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" The likes of her, is it ! Who ever saw one of her beauthy
without the finest hair that ever was ! What do you get for
your scalps? — are they of any use when you find 'em?"

" Bring plenty bye'm bye. Whole country glad to see
him before long — den beavers get pond ag'in."

" How's that — how's that, Indian ? Baiver get pounded ?
There's no pound, hereabouts, and baivers is not an animal
to be shut up like a hog !"

Nick perceived that his friend was past argumentation,
and as he himself was approaching the state when the
drunkard receives delight from he knows not what, it is
unnecessary to relate any more of the dialogue. The jug
was finished, each man very honestly drinking his pint, and
as naturally submitting to its consequences ; and this so
much the more because the two were so engrossed with the
rum that both forgot to pay that attention to the spring that
might have been expected from its proximity.

CHAPTER V.

The soul, my lord, is fashioned — like the lyre.

Strike one chord suddenly, and others vibrate.

Your name abruptly mentioned, casual words

Of comment on your deeds, praise from your uncle,

News from the armies, talk of your return,

A word let fall touching your youthful passion,

Suffused her cheek, call'd to her drooping eye

A momentary lustre, made her pulse

Leap headlong, and her bosom palpitate.

HlLLHOUSE.

THE approach of night, at sea and in a wilderness, has
always something more solemn in it, than on land in the
centre of civilization. As the curtain is drawn before his
eyes, the solitude of the mariner is increased, while even his
sleepless vigilance seems, in a measure, baffled, by the
manner in which he is cut off from the signs of the hour.
Thus, too, in the forest, or in an isolated clearing, the mys
teries of the woods are deepened, and danger is robbed of
its forethought and customary guards. That evening, Major

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 71

Willoughby stood at a window with an arm round the slen
der \vai>t of 1 {mini), Maud standing a little aloof; and, as tho
twilight retired, leaving the shadows of evening to thicken
on the forest that lay within a few hundred feet of that side
of the Hut, and casting a i^looin over the whole of the quiet
solitude, he felt the force of the feeling just mentioned, in a
!)•• had never before experienced.

" This is a tcry retired abode, my sisters," he said,
thoughtfully. " Do my father and mother never speak of
bringing you out more into the world ?"

" They take us to New York every winter, now father is
in the Assembly," quietly answered Beulah. " We expected
to meet you there, last season, and were greatly disappointed
that you did not come."

" My regiment was sent to the eastward, as you know,
and having just received my new rank of major, it would
not do to be absent at the moment. Do you ever see any
one here, besides those who belong to the manor?"

" Oh ! yes" — exclaimed Maud eagerly — then she paused,
as if sorry she had said anything ; continuing, after a little
pause, in a much more moderated vein — " I mean occasion
ally. No doubt the place is very retired."

" Of what characters are your visitors? — hunters, trap
pers, settlers — savages or travellers?"

Maud did not answer ; but, Beulah, after waiting a moment
for her sister to reply, took that office on herself.

" Some of all," she said, " though few certainly of the
latter class. The hunters are often here ; one or two a
month, in the mild season ; settlers rarely, as you may sup
pose, since my father will not sell, and there are not many
about, I believe; the Indians come more frequently, though
I think we have seen less of them, during Nick's absence,
than while he was more with us. Still we have as many as
a hundred in a year, perhaps, counting the women. They
come in parties, you know, and five or six of these will
make that number. As for travellers, they are rare ; being
generally surveyors, land-hunters, or perhaps a proprietor
who is looking up his estate. We had two of the last in the
fall, before we went below."

" That is singular ; and yet one might well look for an
estate in a wilderness like this. Who were your proprie
tors?"

72 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" An elderly man, and a young one. The first was a sort
of partner of the late Sir William's, I believe, who has a
grant somewhere near us, for which he was searching. His
narns was Fonda. The other was one of the Beekmans,
who has lately succeeded his father in a property of consi
derable extent, somewhere at no great distance from us, and
came to take a look at it. They say he has quite a hundred
thousand acres, in one body."

" And did he find his land ? Tracts of thousands and tens
of thousands, are sometimes not to be discovered."

" We saw him twice, going and returning, and he was
successful. The last time, he was detained by a snow-storm,
and staid with us some days — so long, indeed, that he
remained, and accompanied us out, when we went below.
We saw much of him, too, last winter, in town."

" Maud, you wrote me nothing of all this ! Are visiters
of this sort so very common that you do not speak of them
in your letters ?"

"Did I not? — Beulah will scarce pardon me for that.
She thinks Mr. Evert Beekman more worthy of a place in
a letter, than I do, perhaps."

" I think him a very respectable and sensible young
man," answered Beulah quietly, though there was a deeper
tint on her cheek than common, which it was too dark to
see. " I am not certain, however, he need fill much space
in the letters of either of your sisters."

" Well, this is something gleaned !" said the major, laugh
ing — " and now, Beulah, if you will only let out a secret of
the same sort about Maud, I shall be au fait of all the
family mysteries."

" All !" repeated Maud, quickly — " would there be no
thing to tell of a certain major Willoughby, brother of
mine?"

" Not a syllable. I am as heart-whole as a sound oak,
and hope to remain so. At all events, all I love is in this
house. To tell you the truth, girls, these are not times for
a soldier to think of anything but his duty. The quarrel is
getting to be serious between the mother country and her
colonies."

" Not so serious, brother," observed Beulah, earnestly,
" as to amount to that. Evert Beekman thinks there will

THE IIUTTED KNOLL. 73

be trouble, but he docs not appear to fancy it will go as far
y serious violence."

" Evert Beekfnan! — most of that family are loyal, I be-
lieve ; ho\v is it with this Evert?"

" I dare say, you would call him a rebel" answered Maud,
laughing, for now Beulah chose to be silent, leaving h«-r
sister to explain. " He is not fiery; but he calls himself
an American, with emphasis; and that is saying a good
deal, when it means he is not an Englishman. Pray what
do you call yourself, Bob?"

" 1 '• — Certainly an American in one sense, but an Eng
lishman in another. An American, as my father was a
Cumberland-man, and an Englishman as a subject, and as
connected with the empire."

" As St. Paul was a Roman. Heigho !— Well, I fear I
have but one character — or, if I have two, they are an
American, and a New York girl. Did I dress in scarlet,
as you do, I might feel English too, possibly."

" This is making a trifling misunderstanding too serious,"
observed Beulah. " Nothing can come of all the big words
that have been used, than more big words. I know that is
Evert Beekman's opinion."

" I hope you may prove a true prophet," answered the
major, once more buried in thought. " This place does
seem to be fearfully retired for a family like ours. I hope
my father may be persuaded to pass more of his time in
New York. Does he ever speak on the subject, girls, or
appear to have any uneasiness?"

"Uneasiness about what? The place is health itself;
all sorts of fevers, and agues, and those things being quite
unknown. Mamma says the toothache, even, cannot be found
in this healthful spot."

" That is lucky — and, yet, I wish captain Willoughby-—
Sir Hugh Willoughby could be induced to live more in
New York. Girls of your time of life, ought to be in tho
way of seeing the world, too."

" In other words, of seeing admirers, major Bob," said
Maud, laughing, and bending forward to steal a glance in
her brother's face. " Good night. Sir Hugh wishes us to
send you into his library when we can spare you, and my
lady has sent us a hint that it is ten o'clock, at which hour
it is usual for sober people to retire."

VOL. I.— 7.

74 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

The major kissed both sisters with warm affection —
Beulah fancied with a sobered tenderness, and Maud thought
kindly — and then they retired to join their mother, while he
went to seek his father.

The captain was smoking in the library, as a room of
all-Aead-work was called, in company with the chaplain.
The practice of using tobacco in this form, had grown to be
so strong in both of these old inmates of garrisons, that they
usually passed an hour, in the recreation, before they went
to bed. Nor shall we mislead the reader with any notions
of fine-flavoured Havana segars ; pipes, with Virginia cut,
being the materials employed in the indulgence. A little
excellent Cogniac and water, in which however the spring
was not as much neglected, as in the orgies related in the
previous chapter, moistened their lips, from time to time,
giving a certain zest and comfort to their enjoyments. Just
as the door opened to admit the major, he was the subject
of discourse, the proud parent and the partial friend finding
almost an equal gratification in discussing his fine, manly
appearance, good qualities, and future hopes. His presence
was untimely, then, in one sense; though he was welcome,
and, indeed, expected. The captain pushed a chair to his
son, and invited him to take a seat near the table, which
held a spare pipe or two, a box of tobacco, a decanter of
excellent brandy, a pitcher of pure water, all pleasant com
panions to the elderly gentlemen, then in possession.

" I suppose you are too much of a maccaroni, Bob, to
smoke," observed the smiling father. " I detested a pipe at
your time of life ; or may say, I was afraid of it; the only
smoke that was in fashion among our scarlet coats being
the smoke of gunpowder. Well, how comes on Gage, and
your neighbours the Yankees?"

" Why, sir," answered the major, looking behind him, to
make sure that the door was shut — " Why, sir, to own the
truth, my visit, here, just at this moment, is connected with
the present state of that quarrel."

Both the captain and the chaplain drew the pipes from
Iheir mouths, holding them suspended in surprise and atten
tion.

" The deuce it is !" exclaimed the former. " I thought I
owed this unexpected pleasure to your affectionate desire to

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 75

let me know I had inherited the empty honours of a baron-

" That was one motive, sir, but the least. I beg you to
icmember the awkwardness of my position, as a king's
oilicrr, in the midst of enemies."

"The devil! I say, parson, this exceeds heresy and
schism ! Do you call lodging in your father's house, major
Willougkby, being in the midst of enemies? This is rebel
lion against nature, and is worse than rebellion against the
king."

" My dear father, no one feels more secure with you,
than I do ; or, even, with Mr. Woods, here. But, there are
others besides you two, in this part of the world, and your
very settlement may not be sale a week longer ; probably
would not be, if my presence in it were known."

Both the listeners, now, fairly laid down their pipes, and
the smoke began gradually to dissipate, as it might have
been rising from a field of battle. One looked at the other,
in wonder, and, then, both looked at the major, in curiosity.

"What is the meaning of all this, my son?" asked the
captain, gravely. " Has anything new occurred to compli
cate the old causes of quarrel ?"

"Blood has, at length, been drawn, sir; open rebellion
has commenced !"

" This is a serious matter, indeed, if it be really so. But
do you not exaggerate the consequences of some fresh in
discretion of the soldiery, in firing on the people? Remem
ber, in the other affair, even the colonial authorities justified
the officers."

" This is a very different matter, sir. Blood has not been
drawn in a riot, but in a battle"

" Battle ! You amaze me, sir ! That is indeed a serious
matter, and may lead to most serious consequences !"

" The Lord preserve us from evil times," ejaculated the
chaplain, "and lead us, poor, dependent creatures that wo
are, into the paths of peace and quietness ! Without his
grace, we are the blind leading the blind."
^ " Do you mean, major Willoughby, that armed and dis
ciplined bodies have met in actual conflict ?"

" Perhaps not literally so, my dear father ; but the minute-
men of Massachusetts, and His Majesty's forces, have met

76 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

and fought. This I know, full well ; for my own regiment
was in the field, and, I hope it is unnecessary to add, that
its second officer was not absent."

" Of course these minute-men — rabble would be the better
word — could not stand before you?" said the captain, com
pressing his lips, under a strong impulse of military pride.

Major Willoughby coloured, and, to own the truth, at that
moment he wished the Rev. Mr. Woods, if not literally at
the devil, at least safe and sound in another room; any
where, so it were out of ear-shot of the answer.

" Why, sir," he said, hesitating, not to say stammering,
notwithstanding a prodigious effort to seem philosophical
and calm — " To own the truth, these minute-fellows are not
quite as contemptible as we soldiers would be apt to think.
It was a stone-wall affair, and dodging work ; and, so, you
know, sir, drilled troops wouldn't have the usual chance.
They pressed us pretty warmly on the retreat."

" Retreat ! Major Willoughby !"

" I called it retreat, sure enough ; but it was only a march
i/V again, afler having done the business on which we went
out. I shall admit, I say, sir, that we were hard pressed,
until reinforced"

" Reinforced, my dear Bob ! Your regiment, our regi
ment could not need a reinforcement against all the Yankees
in New England."

The major could not abstain from laughing, a little, at
this exhibition of his father's esprit de corps ; but native
frankness, and love of truth, compelled him to admit the
contrary.

" It did, sir, notwithstanding," he answered ; " and, not
to mince the matter, it needed it confoundedly. Some of
our officers who have seen the hardest service of the last
war, declare, that taking the march, and the popping work,
and the distance, altogether, it was the warmest day they
remember. Our loss, too, was by no means insignificant,
as I hope you will believe, when you know the troops en
gaged. We report something like three hundred casual-
lies."

The captain did not answer for quite a minute. All this
time he sat thoughtful, and even pale ; for his mind was
teeming with the pregnant consequences of such an out-

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 77

break. Then IK? desired his son to give a succinct, but
connected history of the whole affair. The major complied,
beginning his narrative with an account of the general state
of tin? country, and concluding it, by giving, as far as it was
r mi,' \\ii --K.ii.tl pride and political fed-

ings were too deeply involved to be entirely impartial, a
reasonably just account of the particular occurrence al-
ready mentioned.

The even's that li d to, and the hot skirmish which it is the
practice of the country to call the Battle of Lexington, and
the incidents of the day itself, are too familiar to the ordi
nary reader, to require repetition here. The major explained
all the military points very clearly, did full justice to the
peweverance and darin-j of the provincials, as he called his
enemies — for, an American himself, he would not term them
Americans — and threw in as many explanatory remarks as
he could think of, by way of vindicating the " march in,
again.*' This he did, too, quite as much out of filial piety,
as out of self-love; for, to own the truth, the captain's mor
tification, as a soldier, was so very evident as to give his son
sensible pain.

" The effect of all this," continued the major, when his
narrative of the military movements was ended, " has been
to raise a tremendous feeling, throughout the country, and
God knows what is to follow."

M And this you have come hither to tell me, Robert," said
the father, kindly. " It is well done, ancl as I would have
expected from you. We might have passed the summer,
here, and not have heard a whisper of so important an
event."

" Soon after the affair — or, as soon as we got some notion
of its effect on the provinces, general Gage sent me, pri
vately, with despatches to governor Tryon. lit, governor
Tryon, was aware of your position ; and, as I had also to
communicate the death of Sir Harry Willoughby, he directed
me to come up the river, privately, have an interview with
Sir John, if possible, and then push on, under a feigned
name, and communicate with you. He thinks, now Sir
William is dead, that with your estate, and new rank, and
local influence, you might be very serviceable in sustaining
the royal cause ; for, it is not to be concealed that this affair
7*

78 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

is likely to take the character of an open and wide-spread
revolt against the authority of the crown."

" General Tryon does me too much honour," answered
the captain, coldly. " My estate is a small body of wild
land ; my influence extends little beyond this beaver mea
dow, and is confined to my own household, and some fifteen
or twenty labourers ; and as for the new rank of which you
speak, it is not likely the colonists will care much for that,
if they disregard the rights of the king. Still, you have
acted like a son in running the risk you do, Bob ; and I pray
God you may get back to your regiment, in safety."

" This is a cordial to my hopes, sir ; for nothing would
pain me more than to believe you think it my duty, because
I was born in the colonies, to throw up my commission, and
take side with the rebels."

" I do not conceive that to be your duty, any more than
I conceive it to be mine to take sides against them, because
I happened to be born in England. It is a weak view of
moral obligations, that confines them merely to the accidents
of birth, and birth-place. Such a subsequent state of things
may have grown up, as to change all our duties, and it is
necessary that we discharge them as they are; not as they
may have been, hitherto, or may be, hereafter. Those who
clamour so much about mere birth-place, usually have no
very clear sense of their higher obligations. Over our birth
we can have no control ; while we are rigidly responsible
for the fulfilment of obligations voluntarily contracted."

" Do you reason thus, captain?" asked the chaplain, with
strong interest — " Now, I confess, I feel, in this matter, not
only very much like a native American, but very much
like a native Yankee, in the bargain. You know I was born
in the Bay, and — the major must excuse me — but, it ill-be
comes my cloth to deceive — I hope the major will pardon
me — I — I do hope — "

" Speak out, Mr. Woods," said Robert Willoughby,
smiling — " You have nothing to fear from your old friend
the major."

" So I thought — so I thought — well, then, I was glad-
yes, really rejoiced at heart, to hear that my countrymen,
down-east, there, had made the king's troops scamper."

" I am not aware that I used any such terms, sir, in con-

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 79

nection with the manner in which we marched in, after tho
duty we went out on was performed," returned the young
soldier, a little stiflly. " I suppose it is natural for one
Yankee to sympathize with another; but, my father, Mr.
Is, is an Old England, and not a JVeic-England-man ;
and In; may be excused if he feel more for the servants of
the crown."

" Certainly, rny dear major — certainly, my dear Mr. Ro
bert — my old pupil, and, I hope, my friend — all this is true
enough, and very natural. I allow captain Willoughby to
wish the best for the king's troops, while I wish the best for
my own countrymen,"

" This is natural, on both sides, out of all question, though
it by no means follows that it is right. ' Our country, right
or wrong,' is a high-sounding maxim, but it is scarcely the
honest man's maxim. Our country, after all, cannot have
nearer claims upon us, than our parents for instance ; and
who can claim a moral right to sustain even his own father,
in error, injustice, or crime ? No, no — I hate your pithy
sayings ; they commonly mean nothing that is substantially
good, at bottom."

" But one's country, in a time of actual war, sir !" said
the major, in a tone of as much remonstrance as habit would
allow him to use to his own father.

" Quite true, Bob ; but the difficulty here, is to know
which is one's country. It is a family quarrel, at the best,
and it will hardly do to talk about foreigners, at all. It is the
same as if I should treat Maud unkindly, or harshly, be
cause she is the child of only a friend, and not my own
natural daughter. As God is my judge, Woods, I am un
conscious of not loving Maud Meredith, at this moment, as
tenderly as I love Beulah Willoughby. There was a period,
in her childhood, when the playful little witch had most of
my heart, I am afraid, if the truth were known. It is use,
and duty, then, and not mere birth, that ought to tie our
hearts."

The major thought it might very well be that one child
should be loved more than another, though he did not un
derstand how there could bo a divided allegiance. Tho
chaplain looked at the subject with views still more narrow
ed, and he took up the cudgels of argument in sober earnest,

80 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

conceiving this to be as good an opportunity as another, for
disposing of the matter.

" I am all for birth, and blood, and natural ties," he said,
" always excepting the peculiar claims of Miss Maud, whose
case is sui generis, and not to be confounded with any
other case. A man can have but one country, any more
than he can have but one nature ; and, as he is forced to
be true to that nature, so ought he morally to be true to
that country. The captain says, that it is difficult to deter
mine which is one's country, in a civil war ; but I cannot
admit the argument. If Massachusetts and England get to
blows, Massachusetts is my country ; if Suffolk and Wor
cester counties get into a quarrel, my duty calls me to
Worcester, where I was born ; and so I should carry out
the principle from country to country, county to county,
town to town, parish to parish ; or, even household to house
hold."

" This is an extraordinary view of one's duty, indeed,
my dear Mr. Woods," cried the major, with a good deal of
animation ; " and if one-half the household quarrelled with
the other, you would take sides with that in which you
happened to find yourself, at the moment."

" It is an extraordinary view of one's duty, for a parson;"
observed the captain. " Let us reason backward a little,
and ascertain where we shall come out. You put the head
of the household out of the question. Has he no claims ?
Is a father to be altogether overlooked in the struggle be
tween the children 1 Are his laws to be broken — his rights
invaded — or his person to be maltreated, perhaps, and his
curse disregarded, because a set of unruly children get by
the ears, on points connected with their own selfishness ?"

" I give up the household," cried the chaplain, " for the
bible settles that ; and what the bible disposes of, is beyond
dispute — ' Honour thy father and thy mother, that thy days
may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth
thee' — are terrible words, and must not be disobeyed. But
the decalogue has not another syllable which touches the
question. ' Thou shalt not kill,' means murder only ; com
mon, vulgar murder — and « thou shalt not steal,' « thou shalt
not commit adultery,' &c., don't bear on civil war, as I see.
* Remember the Sabbath to keep it holy' — ' Thou shalt not

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 81

covet the ox nor the ass' — * Thou shalt not take the name
of the Lord thy Gu>d in vain' — none of these, not one of
them, bears, at all, on this qu» -stion/'

" \\ i::!l t!o y.m think of the words of the Saviour, whore
he tells us to ' render unto Ca-sar the things which are
Ca ->nr's .'' Has Cocsar no rights here? Can Massachusetts
and my Lord North settle their quarrels in such a manner
as to put Cicsar altogether out of view?"

The chaplain looked down a moment, pondered a little,
nnd then he came up to the attack, again, with renewed
ardour.

" Cocsar is out of the question here. If His Majesty will
come and take sides with us, we shall be ready to honour
and obey him ; but if he choose to remain alienated from us,
it is his act, not ours."

" This is a new mode of settling allegiance ! If G;
will do as we wish, he shall still be Cfrsar ; but, if he refuse
to do as we wish, then down with C:rsar. I am an old
soldier, Woods, and while I feel that this question has two
sides to it, my disposition to reverence and honour the king
is still strong."

The major appeared delighted, and, finding matters going
on so favourably, he pleaded fatigue and withdrew, feeling
satisfied that, if his father fairly got into a warm discussion,
taking the loyal side of the question, he would do more to
confirm himself in the desired views, than could be effected
by any other means. By this time, the disputants were so
warm as scarcely to notice the disappearance of the young
man, the argument proceeding.

The subject is too hackneyed, and, indeed, possesses too
little interest, to induce us to give more than an outline of
what passed. The captain and the chaplain belonged to
that class of friends, which may be termed argumentative.
Their constant discussions were a strong link in the chain
of esteem ; for they had a tendency to enliven their solitude,
and to give a zest to lives that, without thorn, would have
been exceedingly monotonous. Their ordinary subjects
were theology and war; the chaplain having some pracii.-al
knowledge of the last, and the captain a lively disposition
to the first. In these discussions, the clergyman was good-
natured, and the soldier polite ; circumstances that tended

82 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

to render them far more agreeable to the listeners than they
might otherwise have proved.

On the present occasion, the chaplain rang the changes
diligently, on the natural feelings, while his friend spoke
most of the higher duties. The ad captandum part of the
argument, oddly enough, fell to the share of the minister of
the church ; while the intellectual, discriminating, and really
logical portion of the subject, was handled by one trained
in garrisons and camps, with a truth, both of ethics and
reason, that would have done credit to a drilled casuist.
The war of words continued till past midnight, both dis
putants soon getting back to their pipes, carrying on the
conflict amid a smoke that did no dishonour to such a well-
contested field. Leaving the captain and his friend thus
intently engaged, we will take one or two glimpses into
different parts of the house, before we cause all our charac
ters to retire for the night.

About the time the battle in the library was at its height,
Mrs. Willoughby was alone in her room, having disposed
of all the cares, and most of the duties of the day. The
mother's heart was filled with a calm delight that it would
have been difficult for herself to describe. All she held most
dear on earth, her husband, her kind-hearted, faithful, long-
loved husband ; her noble son, the pride and joy of her
heart ; Beulah, her own natural-born daughter, the mild,
tractable, sincere, true-hearted child that so much resembled
herself; and Maud, the adopted, one rendered dear by soli
citude and tenderness, and now so fondly beloved on her
own account, were all with her, beneath her own roof,
almost within the circle of her arms. The Hutted Knoll
was no longer a solitude ; the manor was not a wilderness
to her; for where her heart was, there truly was her trea
sure, also. After passing a few minutes in silent, but de
lightful thought, this excellent, guileless woman knelt and
poured out her soul in thanksgivings to the Being, who had
surrounded her lot with so many blessings. Alas ! little did
she suspect the extent, duration, and direful nature of the
evils which, at that very moment, were pending over her
native country, or the pains that her own affectionate heart
was to endure ! The major had not suffered a whisper of
the real nature of his errand to escape him, except to his

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 83

father and the chaplain ; and we will now follow him to his
apartment, and pass ;i minute, tcte-ti-tMe, with tho youn«
soldier, ere ho too lays his head on his pillow.

A couple of neat rooms were prepared and furnished, that
were held sacred to tlie uses of the hen-. They were known
to the whole household, black and white, as the " youn"
captain's quarters;" and even Maud called them, in her
laughing otl-handedness, "Bob's Sanctum." Here, then,
the major found everything as he left it on his last visit, u
twelvemonth before ; and some lew things that were stran
gers to him, in the bargain. In that day, toilets covered
with muslin, more or less worked and ornamented, were a
regular appliance of every bed-room, of a better-class house,
throughout America. The more modern " Duchesses,"
" Psyches," " dressing-tables,*1 &c. &c., of our own extra
vagant and benefit-of-the-act-taking generation, were then
unknown ; a moderately -sized glass, surrounded by curved,
gilded ornaments, hanging against the wall, above the said
muslin-covered table, quite as a matter of law, if not of do
mestic faith.

As soon as the major had set down his candle, he looked
about him, as one recognises old friends, pleased at renew
ing his acquaintance with so many dear and cherished ob
jects. The very playthings of his childhood were there ;
and, even a beautiful and long-used hoop, was embellished
with ribbons, by some hand unknown to himself. "Can
this be my mother?" thought the young man, approaching
to examine the well-remembered hoop, which he had never
found so honoured before; "can my kind,*tendcr-heartcd
mother, who never will forget that I am no longer a child,
can she have really done this? I must laugh at her, to
morrow, about it, even while I kiss and bless her." Then
he turned to the toilet, where stood a basket, filled with
different articles, which, at once, he understood were offer
ings to himself. Never had he visited tho Hut without find
ing such a basket in his room at night. It was a tender
proof how truly and well he was remembered, in his ab
sence.

" Ah !" thought the major, as ho opened a bundle of knit
lamb's-wool stockings, " here is my dear mother again, with
her thoughts about damp feet, and the exposure of service.

84 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

And a dozen shirts, too, with * Beulah' pinned on one of
them — how the deuce does the dear girl suppose I am to
carry away such a stock of linen, without even a horse to
ease me of a bundle ? My kit would be like that of the com-
mander-in-chief, were I to take away all that these dear
relatives design for me. What's this? — a purse! a hand
some silken purse, too, with Beulah's name on it. Has
Maud nothing, here 1 Why has Maud forgotten me ! Ruffles,
handkerchiefs, garters — yes, here is a pair of my good mo
ther's own knitting, but nothing of Maud's — Ha ! what have
we here ? As I live, a beautiful silken scarf — netted in a
way to make a whole regiment envious. Can this have
been bought, or has it been the work of a twelvemonth]
No name on it, either. Would my father have done this ?
Perhaps it is one of his old scarfs — if so, it is an old new
one, for I do not think it has ever been worn. I must in
quire into this, in the morning — 1 wonder there is nothing
of Maud's!"

As the major laid aside his presents, he kissed the scarf,
and then — I regret to say without saying his prayers — the
young man went to bed.

The scene must now be transferred to the room where
the sisters — in affection, if not in blood — were about to seek
their pillows also. Maud, ever the quickest and most prompt
in her movements, was already in her night-clothes ; and,
wrapping a shawl about herself, was seated waiting for
Beulah to finish her nightly orisons. It was not long before
the latter rose from her knees, and then our heroine spoke.

" The major*nust have examined the basket by this time,"
she cried, her cheek rivalling the tint of a riband it leaned
against, on the back of the chair. " I heard his heavy
tramp — tramp- — tramp^-as he went to his room — how dif
ferently these men walk from us girls, Beulah !"

" They do, indeed ; and Bob has got to be so large and
heavy, now, that he quite frightens me, sometimes. Do you
not think he grows wonderfully like papa?"

" I do not see it. He wears his own hair, and it's a pity
he should ever cut it off, it's so handsome and curling. Then
he is taller, but lighter — has more colour — is so much
younger — and everyway so different, I wonder you think
so. I do not think him in the least like father."

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 85

" Well, that is odd, Maud. Both mother and myself wero

struck with the resemblance, this evening, and \vc were both

delighted to sec it. Papa is quite handsome, and so I think

is Bob. Mother says he is not quite as handsome as father

it his age, but so like him, it is surprising !"

" Men may be handsome and not alike. Father is cer
tainly one of the handsomest elderly men of my acquaint
ance — and the major is so-so-ish — but, I wonder you can
think a man of scven-and-twenty so very like one of sixty
odd. Bob tells me he can play the flute quite readily now,
Beutah."

" I dare say ; he does everything he undertakes uncom
monly well. Mr. Woods said, a few days since, he had
never met with a boy who was quicker at his mathe
matics."

" Oh ! All Mr. Wood's geese are swans. I dare say there
have been other boys who were quite as clever. I do not
believe in non-pareils, Beulah."

" You surprise me, Maud — you, whom I always supposed
such a friend of Bob's ! He thinks everything you do, too,
so perfect ! Now, this very evening, he was looking at the
sketch you have made of the Knoll, and he protested he did
not know a regular artist in England, even, that would have
done it better."

Maud stole a glance at her sister, while the latter was
speaking, from under her cap, and her cheeks now fairly
put the riband to shame ; but her smile was still saucy and
wilful.

" Oh ! nonsense," she said — " Bob 's no judge of draw
ings — He scarce knows a tree from a horse !"

"I'm surprised to hear you say so, Maud," said the
generous-minded and affectionate Beulah, who could see no
imperfection in Bob; "and that of your brother. Wli»-n
he taught you to draw, you thought him well skilled as an
artist."

"Did I? — I dare say I'm a capricious creature — but,
somehow, I don't regard Bob, just as I used to. He has
been away from us so much, of late, you know — and the
army makes men so formidable — and, they are not like us,
you know — and, altogether, I think Bob excessively
changed."

VOL. I. — 8

86 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" Well, I 'm glad mamma don't hear this, Maud. She
looks upon her son, now he is a major, and twenty-seven,
just as she used to look upon him, when he was in petti-
coats — nay, I think she considers us all exactly as so many
little children."

" She is a dear, good mother, I know," said Maud, with
emphasis, tears starting to her eyes, involuntarily, almost
impetuously — " whatever she says, does, wishes, hopes, or
thinks, is right."

" Oh ! T knew you would come to, as soon as there was a
question about mother ! Well, for my part, I have no such
horror of men, as not to feel just as much tenderness for
father or brother, as I feel for mamma, herself."

" Not for Bob, Beulah. Tenderness for Bob ! Why, my
dear sister, that is feeling tenderness for a Major of Foot,
a very different thing from feeling it for one's mother. As
for papa — dear me, he is glorious, and I do so love him !"

" You ought to, Maud ; for you were, and I am not cer
tain that you are not, at this moment, his darling."

It was odd that this was said without the least thought,
on the part of the speaker, that Maud was not her natural
sister — that, in fact, she was not in the least degree related
to her by blood. But so closely and judiciously had captain
and Mrs. Willoughby managed the affair of their adopted
child, that neither they themselves, Beulah, nor the inmates
of the family or household, ever thought of her, but as of a
real daughter of her nominal parents. As for Beulah, her
feelings were so simple and sincere, that they were even
beyond the ordinary considerations of delicacy, and she took
precisely the same liberties with her titular, as she would
have done with a natural sister. Maud alone, of all in the
Hut, remembered her birth, and submitted to some of its
most obvious consequences. As respects the captain, the
idea never crossed her mind, that she was adopted by him;
as respects her mother, she filled to her, in every sense, that
sacred character ; Beulah, too, was a sister, in thought and
deed; but, Bob, he had so changed, had been so many years
separated from her ; had once actually called her Miss
Meredith — somehow, she knew not how herself — it was
fully six years since she had begun to remember that he
was not her brother.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 87

•»As for my father," said Maud, rising with emotion, and
•peaking with startling emphasis — " 1 will not say I love
him — 1 irorship him !"

"All! I know that well enough, Maud; and to say the
truth, you are a couple of idolators, between you. Mamma
says this, sometimes; though she owns she is not jealous.
But it would pain her excessively to hear that you do not
feel towards Boh, just as we all feel."

"But, ought H— Beulah, I cannot!"

" Ought you ! — Why not, Maud? Are you in your senses,
child?"

"But — you know — I'm sure — you ought to remem
ber-"

" What?'1 demanded Beulah, really frightened at the
other's excessive agitation.

" That I am not his real — true — born sister !"

This was the first time in their lives, either had ever
alluded to the fact, in the other's presence. Beulah turned
pale ; she trembled all over, as if in an asue ; then she
luckily burst into tears, else she might have fainted.

"Beulah — my sister — my oirn sister!" cried Maud,
throwing herself into the arms of the distressed girl.

" Ah ! Maud, you are, you shall for ever be, my only,
only sister."

CHAPTER VI.

O! It is great for our country to die, where ranks are contending;

Bright is the wreath of our fame; Glory awaits us for aye —
Glory, that never is dim, shining on with lijjht never ending —

Glory, that never shall fade, never, O ! never away.

PER civ A L.

NOTWITHSTANDING the startling intelligence that had so
unexpectedly reached it, and the warm polemical conflict
that had been carried on within its walls, the night passed
fully over the roof of the Hutted Knoll. At the return
of dawn, the two Plinys, both the Smashes, and all the
menials were again afoot ; and, ere long, Mike, Saucy Nick,

88 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

Joel, and the rest were seen astir, in the open fields, or in
the margin of the woods. Cattle were fed, cows milked,
fires lighted, and everything pursued its course, in the order
of May. The three wenches, as female negroes were then
termed, ex officio, in America, opened their throats, as was
usual at that hour, and were heard singing at their labours,
in a way nearly to deaden the morning carols of the tenants
of the forest. Mart', in particular, would have drowned the
roar of Niagara. The captain used to call her his clarion.

In due time, the superiors of the household made their
appearance. Mrs. Willoughby was the first out of her room,
as was ever the case when there was anything to be done.
On the present occasion, the " fatted calf" was to be killed,
not in honour of the return of a prodigal son, however, but
in behalf of one who was the pride of her eyes, and the joy
of her heart. The breakfast that she ordered was just the
sort of breakfast, that one must visit America to witness.
France can set forth a very scientific dejeuner d la four-
cliette, and England has laboured and ponderous imitations ;
but, for the spontaneous, superabundant, unsophisticated,
natural, all-sufficing and all-subduing morning's meal, take
America, in a better-class house, in the country, and you
reach the ne plus ultra, in that sort of thing. Tea, coffee,
and chocolate, of which the first and last were excellent,
and the second respectable ; ham, fish, eggs, toast, cakes,
rolls, marmalades, &c. &c. &c., were thrown together in
noble confusion ; frequently occasioning the guest, as Mr.
Woods naively confessed, an utter confusion of mind, as
to which he was to attack, when all were inviting and
each would be welcome.

Leaving Mrs. Willoughby in deep consultation with Mari',
on the subject of this feast, we will next look after the two
sweet girls whom we so abruptly deserted in the last chap
ter. When Maud's glowing cheeks were first visible that
morning, signs of tears mii^ht have been discovered on them,
as the traces of the dew are found on the leaf of the rose ;
but they completely vanished under the duties of the toilet,
and she came forth from her chamber, bright and cloudless
as the glorious May-morning, which had returned to cheer
the solitude of the manor. Beulah followed, tranquil, bland,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 89

and mild as the day itself, the living image of the purity of
soul, and dorp alliviions, of her h<>nrst nature.

The sisters \vrnt into the breakfast-room, where they ha-J
little lady-like otliees of thrir own to discharge, too, in ho
nour of tin- i^ucst ; each employing herself in decorating the
tahle, and in string that it wanted nothing in the proprie
ties. As thrir pleasing tasks were fulfilled, the discourse
did not flag between them. Nothing, however, had been
said, that made the smallest allusion to the conversation of
the past night. Neither felt any wish to revive that subject;
and, as for Maud, bitterly did she regret ever having broach
ed it. At times, her cheeks burned with blushes, as she
recalled her words ; and yet she scarce knew the reason
why. The feeling of Beulah was ditlerent. ISho wondered
-tcr could ever think she was a Meredith, and not a
Willoughby, At times she ll-aivd some unfortunate over
sight of her own, some careless allusion, or indiscreet act,
might have served to remind Maud of the circumstances of
her real birth. Yet there was nothing in the last likely to
awaken unpleasant reflections, apart from the circumstance
that she was not truly a child of the family into which she
had been transplanted. The Merediths were, at least, as
honourable a family as the Willoughbys, in the ordinary
worldly view of the matter; nor was Maud, by any means,
a dependant, in the way of money. Five thousand pounds,
in the English funds, had been settled on her, by the mar
riage articles of her parents ; and twenty years of careful
husbandry, during which every shilling had been scrupu
lously devoted to accumulation, had quite doubled the origi
nal amount. So far from being penniless, therefore, Maud's
fortune was often alluded to by the captain, in a jocular
way, as if purposely to remind her that she had the means
of independence, and duties connected with it. It is truo,
Maud, herself, had no suspicion that she had been educated
altogether by her "father," and that her own money had
not been u<"d for this purpose. To own the truth, she
thought little about it ; knew little about it, beyond the fact,
that she had a fortune of her own, into the possession of
which she must step, when she attained her majority. How
she came by it, even, was a question she never asked ;
though there were moments when tender regrets and atfec-
8*

90 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

tionate melancholy would come over her heart, as she
thought of her natural parents, and of their early deaths.
Still, Maud implicitly reposed on the captain and Mrs.
Willoughby, as on a father and mother ; and it was not
owing to them, or anything connected with their love, treat
ment, words, or thoughts, that she was reminded that they
were not so in very fact, as well as in tenderness.

" Bob will think you made these plum sweetmeats, Beu.
lah," said Maud, with a saucy smile, as she placed a glass
plate on the table — " He never thinks I can make anything
of this sort ; and, as he is so fond of plums, he will be cer
tain to taste them ; then you will come in for the praise !"

" You appear to think, that praise he must. Perhaps he
may not fancy them good."

" If I thought so, I would take them away this instant,"
cried Maud, standing in the attitude of one in doubt. " Bob
does not think much of such things in girls, for he says
ladies need not be cooks ; and yet when one does make a
thing of this sort, one would certainly like to have it well
made."

" Set your heart at ease, Maud ; the plums are delicious
— much the best we ever had, and we are rather famous for
them, you know. I '11 answer for it, Bob will pronounce
them the best he has ever tasted."

" And if he shouldn't, why should I care — that is, not
very much — about it. You know they are the first 1 ever
made, and one may be permitted to fail on a first effort.
Besides, a man may go to England, and see fine sights, and
live in great houses, and all that, and not understand when
he has good plum sweetmeats before him, and when bad. I
dare say there are many colonels in the army, who are
ignorant on this point."

Beulah laughed, and admitted the truth of the remark ;
though, in her secret mind, she had almost persuaded her
self that Bob knew everything.

" Do you not think our brother improved in appearance,
Maud," she asked, after a short pause. " The visit to Eng
land has done him that service, at least."

" I don't see it, Beulah — I see no change. To me, Bob
is just the same to-day, that he has ever been ; that is, ever

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 91

since ho nivw to bo a man — with boys, of courso, it is dif
ferent. KMT sinre lie \v;is made a cap!ain, I moan."

As major Willoughby- had readied that rank tho day ho
ue-and-tuenty, the roadcr can understand the pnviso
dale uhen .Maud b^gan to lake her present views of his ap-
[•< aranee- and character.

"I am surprised to hear you say so, Maud ! Papa says
he is better * set up,' as he calls it, by his English drill, and
that he looks altogether more like a soldier than he did."

" Bob has always had a martial look !" cried Maud,
quickly — " lie got that in garrison, when a boy."

" If so, I hope he may never lose it !" said the subject of
the remark, himself, who had entered the room unperceivcd,
and overheard this speech. " B»'ing a soldier, one would
wish to look like what he is, my little critic."

The kiss that followed, and that given to Beulah, were
no more than the usual morning salutations of a brother to
his sisters, slight touches of rosy checks; and yet Maud
blushed ; for, as she said to herself, she had been taken by
surprise.

" They say listeners never hear good of themselves," an
swered Maud, with a vivacity that betokened confusion.
'• I lad you come a minute sooner, master Bob, it might have
been an advantage."

" Oh ! Beulah's remarks I do not fear ; so long as I get
off unscathed from yours, Miss Maud, I shall think myself
a lucky fellow. But what has brought me and my training
into discussion, this morning?"

" It is natural for sisters to speak about their brother after
so long "

" Tell him nothing about it, Beulah," interrupted Maud.
"Let him listen, and eaves-drop, and find out as lie may,
if he would learn our secrets. There, major WiHoughby, I
hope that is a promise of a breakfast, which will satisfy even
your military appetite !"

"It looks well, indeed, Maud — and there, I perceive, aro
some of Beulah's excellent plums, of which I am so fond —
I know they were made especially for me, and I must kiss
you, sister, for this proof of remembrance."

Beulah, to whose simple mind it seemed injustice to ap
propriate credit that belonged to another, was about to tell

92 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

the truth ; but an imploring gesture from her sister induced
her to smile, and receive the salute in silence.

" Has any one seen captain Willoughby and parson
Woods this morning'?" inquired the major. "I left them
desperately engaged in discussion, and I really feel some
apprehension as to the remains left on the field of battle."

" Here they both come," cried Maud, glad to find the dis
course taking so complete a change ; " and there is mamma,
followed by Pliny, to tell Beulah to take her station at the
coffee, while I go to the chocolate, leaving the tea to the
only hand that can make it so that my father will drink it."

The parties mentioned entered the room, in the order
named ; the usual salutations followed, and all took their
seats at table. Captain Willoughby was silent and thought
ful at first, leaving his son to rattle on, in a way that beto
kened care, in his view of the matter, quite as much as it
betokened light-heartedness in those of his mother and sis
ters. The chaplain was rather more communicative than
his friend ; but he, too, seemed restless, and desirous of
arriving at some point that was not likely to come upper
most, in such a family party. At length, the impulses of
Mr. Woods got the better of his discretion, even, and he
could conceal his thoughts no longer.

" Captain Willoughby," he said, in a sort of apologetic,
and yet simple and natural manner, " I have done little
since we parted, seven hours since, but think of the matter
under discussion."

" If you have, my dear Woods, there has been a strong
sympathy between us ; I have scarcely slept. I may say I
have thought of nothing else, myself, and am glad you have
broached the subject, again."

" I was about to say, my worthy sir, that reflection, and
rny pillow, arid your sound and admirable arguments, have
produced an entire change in my sentiments. I think, now,
altogether with you."

" The devil you do, Woods !" cried the captain, looking
up from his bit of dry toast, in astonishment. " Why, my
dear fellow — this is odd — excessively odd, if the truth must
be said. — To own the real state of the case, chaplain, you
have won me over, and I was just about to make proper
acknowledgments of your victory !"

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 93

It nerd scarcely !><> milled that the rest of the company
not a little amu/.ed at these cross-concessions, while
Maud was exceeding v amused. As for Mrs. \\ illoughby,
nothing laughahle ever occurred in connection with ln-r
husband ; ami then she would as soon think of assailing the
chuivh itself, a.s to ridicule one of its ministers. Beulah
could see nothing but what was right in her father, at least ;
and, a.s for the major, he felt too much concerned at this
u n< .\pectcd admission of his father's, to perceive anything
but the error.

'•Have you not overlooked the injunction of scripture,
my excellent friend?" rejoined the chaplain. " Have you
• the rights of Caosar, all their weight and authority?
' The king's name is a tower of strength.' "

" Have not you, Woods, forgotten the superior claims of
reason and right, over those of accident and birth — that
man is to be considered as a reasoning being, to be go-
verned by principles and ever-varying facts, and not a
mere animal left to the control of an instinct that perishes
with its usefulness ?"

" What can they mean, mother?" whispered Maud, scarce
able to repress the laughter that came so easily to one with
a keen sense of the ludicrous.

" They have been arguing about the right of parliament
to tax the colonies, I believe, my dear, and over-persuaded
each other, that's all. It is odd, Robert, that Mr. Woods
should convert your father."

" No, my dearest mother, it is something even more se
rious than that." By this time, the disputants, who sat
opposite each other, were fairly launched into the discus
sion, again, and heeded nothing that passed — " No, dearest
mother, it is far worse than even that. Pliny, tell my man
to brush the hunting-jacket — and, s«-e he Ins his breakfast,
in good style — he is a grumbling rascal, and will give the
house a bad character, else — you need not come back, until
we ring for you — yes, mother, yes dearest girls, this is a
far more serious matter than you suppose, though it ought
not to be mentioned idly, among the people. God knows
how they may take it — and bad news flics swift enough, of
itself."

"Merciful Providence!" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby —
" What can you mean, my son ?"

94 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" I mean, mother, that civil war has actually commenced
in the colonies, and that the people of your blood and race
are, in open arms, against the people of my father's native
country — in a word, against me."

" How can that be, Robert 1 Who would dare to strike a
blow against the king?"

" When men get excited, and their passions are once in
flamed, they will do much, my mother, that they might not
dream of, else."

" This must be a mistake ! Some evil-disposed person
has told you this, Robert, knowing your attachment to the
crown."

" I wish it were so, dear madam ; but my own eyes have
seen — I may say my own flesh has felt, the contrary."

The major then related what had happened, letting his
auditors into the secret of the true state of the country. It
is scarcely necessary to allude to the degree of consternation
and pain, with which he was heard, or to the grief which
succeeded.

" You spoke of yourself, dear Bob," said Maud, naturally,
and with strong feeling — " You were not hurt, in this cruel,
cruel battle."

" I ought not to have mentioned it, although I did cer
tainly receive a smart contusion — nothing more, I assure
you — here in the shoulder, and it now scarcely inconve
niences me."

By this time all were listening, curiosity and interest
having silenced even the disputants, especially as this was
the first they had heard of the major's casualty. Then
neither felt the zeal which had warmed him in the previous
contest, but was better disposed to turn aside from its pur
suit.

" I hope it did not send you to the rear, Bab?" anxiously
inquired the father.

'• I was in the rear, sir, when I got the hurt," answered
the major, laughing. " The rear is the post of honour, on a
retreat, you know, my dear father ; and I believe our march
scarce deserves another name."

" That is hard, too, on king's troops ! What sort of
fellows had you to oppose, my son ?"

" A rather intrusive set, sir. Their object was to persuade

THE HOTTED KNOLL. 95

us lo go into Boston, as last as possible; and, it was a little
difficult, at times, not tu listen to their arguments. If my
Lord Percy had not come out, with a strong party, and two
pieces of artillery, we might not have stood it much longer !
Our mm were lagged like hunted deer, and the day proved
oppressively hot."

"Artillery, too!" exclaimed the captain, his military
pride reviving a little, to unsettle his last convictions of
duty. " Did you open your columns, and charge your
enemies, in line?"

" It would have been charging air. No sooner did we
halt, than our foes dispersed; or, no sooner did we renew
the march, than every line of wall, along our route, became
a line of hostile muskets. I trust you will do us justice,
sir — you know the regiments, and can scarce think they
misbehaved."

" British troops seldom do that ; although I have known it
happen. No men, however, are usually more steady, and
then these provincials are formidable as skirmishers. In
that character, I know them, too. What has been the effect
of all this on the country, Bob? — You told us something of
it last night ; complete the history."

" The provinces are in a tumult. As for New England,
a flame of fire could scarce be more devastating ; though I
think this colony is less excited. Still, here, men are arm
ing in thousands."

" Dear me — dear me" — ejaculated the peacefully-inclined
chaplain — " that human beings can thus be inclined to self-
destruction !"

" Is Tryon active ? — What do the royal authorities, all
this time?"

" Of course they neglect nothing feasible ; but, they must
principally rely on the loyalty and influence of the gentry,
until succour can arrive from Europe. If that fail thorn,
their difficulties will be much increased."

Captain Willoughby understood his son j he glanced to-
wirds his unconscious wife, as if to see how far she felt
w'th him.

*' Our own families are divided, of course, much as they
have been in the previous discussions," he added. " The
De Lanceys, Van Cortlandts, Philipses, Bayards, and most

96 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

of that town connection, with a large portion of the Long
Island families, I should think, are with the crown ; while
the Livingstons, Morrises, Schuylers, Rensselaers, and their
friends, go with the colony. Is not this the manner in which
they are divided ?"

" With some limitations, sir. All the De Lanceys, with
most of their strong connections and influence, are with us —
with the king, I mean — while all the Livingstons and Mor
rises are against us. The other families are divided — as
with the Cortlandts, Schuylers, and Rensselaers. It is for
tunate for the Patroon, that he is a boy,"

"Why so, Bob?" asked the captain, looking inquiringly
up, at his son.

" Simply, sir, that his great estate may not be confiscated.
So many of his near connections are against us, that he
could hardly escape the contamination ; and the conse
quences would be inevitable."

" Do you consider that so certain, sir? As there are two
sides to the question, may there not be two results to the
war?"

" I think not, sir. England is no power to be defied by
colonies insignificant as these."

" This is well enough for a king's officer, major Wil-
loughby ; but all large bodies of men are formidable when
they are right, and nations — these colonies are a nation, in
extent and number — are not so easily put down, when the
spirit of liberty is up and doing among them."

The major listened to his father with pain and wonder.
The captain spoke earnestly, and there was a flush about
his fine countenance, that gave it sternness and authority.
Unused to debate with his father, especially when the latter
was in such a mood, the son remained silent, though his
mother, who was thoroughly loyal in her heart — meaning
loyal as applied to a sovereign — and who had the utmost
confidence in her husband's tenderness and consideration
for herself, was not so scrupulous.

" Why, Willoughby," she cried, " you really incline to
rebellion ! I, even I, who was born in the colonies, think
them very wrong to resist their anointed king, and sove
reign prince."

" Ah, Wilhelmina," answered the captain, more mildly,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 07

" you have a true colonist's admiration of home. But I \VILS
old enough, when 1 left England, to appreciate what I saw
and knew, and cannot Ibel all this provincial admiration."

" Iitit surely, my dear captain, England is a very great
country," interrupted the chaplain — " a prodigious country ;
one that can claim all our respect and love. Look at the
church, now, the purified continuation of the ancient visible
authority of Christ on earth ! It is the consideration of this
church that has subdued my natural love of birth-place, and
altered my sentiments."

" All very true, and all very well, in your mouth, chap
lain ; yet even the visible church may err. This doctrine
of divine right would have kept the Stuarts on the throne,
and it is not even English doctrine ; much less, then, need
it be American. I am no Cromwellian, no republican, that
wishes to oppose the throne, in order to destroy it. A good
king is a good thing, and a prodigious blessing to a country ;
still, a people needs look to its political privileges if it wish
to preserve them. You and I will discuss this matter ano
ther time, parson. There will be plenty of opportunities,"
he added, rising, and smiling good-humourcdly ; " I must,
now, call my people together, and let them know this news.
It is not fair to conceal a civil war."

" My dear sir!" exclaimed the major, in concern — "are
you not wrong? — precipitate, I mean — Is it not better to
preserve the secret, to give yourself time for reflection — to
await events? — I can discover no necessity for this haste.
Should you see things ditferently, hereafter, an incautious
word uttered at this moment might bring much motive for
regret."

" I have thought of all this, Bob, during the night — for
hardly did I close my eyes — and you cannot change my
purpose. It is honest to let my people know how matters
stand ; and, so far from being hazardous, as you seem to
think, I consider it wise. God knows what time will bring
forth ; but, in every, or any event, fair-dealing can scarcely
injure him who practises it. I have already sent directions
to have the whole settlement collected on the lawn, at the
ringing of the bell, and I expect every moment we shall
hear the summons."

VOL. I. — 9

88 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

Against this decision there was no appeal. Mild and in
dulgent as the captain habitually was, his authority was not
to be disputed, when he chose to exercise it. Some doubtg
arose, and the father participated in them, for a moment*, as
to what might be the effect on the major's fortunes ; for,
should a very patriotic spirit arise among the men, two-
thirds of whom were native Americans, and what was more,
from the eastern colonies, he might be detained ; or, at least,
betrayed on his return, and delivered into the hands of the
revolted authorities. This was a very serious consideration,
and it detained the captain in the house, some time after the
people were assembled, debating the chances, in the bosom
of his own family.

" We exaggerate the danger," the captain, at length, ex
claimed. " Most of these men have been with me for years,
and I know not one among them who I think would wish to
injure me, or even you, my son, in this way. There is far
more danger in attempting to deceive them, than in making
them confidants. I will go out and tell the truth ; then we
shall, at least, have the security of self-approbation. If
you escape the danger of being sold by Nick, my son, I
think you have little to fear from any other."

" By Nick 1" repeated half-a-dozen voices, in surprise —
" Surely, father — surely, Willoughby — surely, my dear cap
tain, you cannot suspect as old and tried a follower, as the
Tuscarora !"

" Ay, he is an old follower, certainly, and he has been
punished often enough, if he has not been tried. I have
never suffered my distrust of that fellow to go to sleep — it 13
unsafe, with an Indian, unless you have a strong hold on
his gratitude."

" But, Willoughby, he it was who found this manor for
us," rejoined the wife. "Without him, we should never
have been the owners of this lovely place, this beaver-dam,
and all else that we so much enjoy."

" True, my dear ; and without good golden guineas, we
should not have had Nick."

" But, sir, I pay as liberally as he can wish," observed
the major. " If bribes will buy him, mine are as good as
another's."

" We shall see — under actual circumstances, I think we

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 99

shall be, in every respect, safer, by keeping nothing back,
than by toiling all to thu people."

The captain now put on his hat, and issued through tho
undefended gate-way, followed by every individual of hi.*
family. As the summons had been general, when the
Willoughbya and the ehaplain appeared on the lawn, every
living soul of that isolated settlement, even to infants in the
arms, was collected there. Tho captain commanded the
profound respect of all his dependants, though a few among
them did not love him. The fault was not his, however,
but was inherent rather in the untoward characters of the
disaffected themselves. His habits of authority were un-
suited to their habits of a presuming equality, perhaps; and
it is impossible for the comparatively powerful and allluent
to escape the envy and repinings of men, who, unable to
draw the real distinctions that separate the gentleman from
the low-minded and grovelling, impute their advantages to
accidents and money. But, even the lew who permitted this
malign and corrupting tendency to influence their feeling,
could not deny that their master was just and benevolent,
though he did not always exhibit this justice and benevo
lence precisely in the way best calculated to soothe their
own craving self-love, and exaggerated notions of assumed
natural claims. In a word, captain Wiiioughby, in the eyes
of a few unquiet and bloated imaginations among his people,
was obnoxious to the imputation of pride; and this because
he saw and felt the consequences of education, habits, man
ners, opinions and sentiments that were hidden from those
who not only had no perception of their existence, but who
had no knowledge whatever of the qualities that brought
them into being. Pope's familiar line of " what can we
reason but from what we know?" is peculiarly applicable
to persons of this class ; who are ever for dra^mi; all things
down to standards created by their own ignorance ; and
who, slaves of the basest and meanest passions, reason as
if they were possessors of all the knowledge, sensibilities
nnd refinements of their own country and times. Of this
class of men, comes the ordinary demagogue, a wretch
equally incapable of setting an example of any of the higher
qualities, in his own person or practice, and of appreciating
it when exhibited by others. Such men abound under all

100 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

systems where human liberty is highly privileged, being the
moral fungi of freedom, as the rankest weeds are known to
be the troublesome and baneful productions of the richest
soils.

It was no unusual thing for the people of the Hutted Knoll
to be collected, in the manner we have described. We are
writing of a period, that the present enlightened generation
is apt to confound with the darker ages of American know
ledge, in much that relates to social usages at least, though
it escaped the long-buried wisdom of the Mormon bible, and
Miller's interpretations of the prophecies. In that day, men
were not so silly as to attempt to appear always wise ; but
some of the fetes and festivals of our Anglo-Saxon ancestors
were still tolerated among us ; the all-absorbing and all-
swallowing jubilee of " Independence-day" not having yet
overshadowed everything else in the shape of a holiday.
Now, captain Willoughby had brought with him to the
colonies the love of festivals that is so much more prevalent
in the old world than in the new ; and it was by no means
an uncommon thing for him to call his people together, to
make merry on a birth-day, or the anniversary of some
battle in which he had been one of the victors. When he
appeared on the lawn, on the present occasion, therefore, it
was expected he was about to meet them with some such
announcement.

The inhabitants of the manor, or the estate of the Hutted
Knoll, might be divided into three great physical, and we
might add moral categories, or races, viz : the Anglo-Saxon,
the Dutch, both high and low, and the African. The first
was the most numerous, including the families of the millers,
most of the mechanics, and that of Joel Strides, the land-
overseer ; the second was composed chiefly of labourers ;
and the last were exclusively household servants, with the
exception of one of the Plinys, who was a ploughman,
though permitted to live with his kinsfolk in the Hut.
These divisions, Maud, in one of her merry humours, had
nick-named the three tribes ; while her father, to make the
enumeration complete, had classed the serjeant, Mike, and
Jamie Allen, as supernumeraries.

The three tribes, and the three supernumeraries, then,
were all collected on the lawn, as the captain and his family

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 101

approached. Iiy a sort of secret instinct, too, they had
divided themselves into knots, the Dutch keeping a little
aloof from the \ankees; and the blacks, almost as a matter
of reli-ion, Mantling a .short distance in the rear, as became
people ofihrir colour, and slaves. Mike and Jamie, how
ever, had ^ot u sort of neutral position, between the two
great divisions of the whites, as if equally indifferent to their
iMons or antipathies. In this manner all parties stood,
impatiently awaiting an announcement that had been so
long delayed. The captain advanced to the front, and re
moving his hat, a ceremony he always observed on similar
occasions, and which had the effect to make his listeners
imitate- his own courtesy, he addressed the crowd.

" When people live together, in a wilderness like this,"
commenced the captain, " there ought to be no secrets be
tween them, my friends, in matters that touch the common
interests. \Ve are like men on a remote island ; a sort of
colony of our own ; and we must act fairly and frankly by
each other. In this spirit, then, 1 am now about to lay be
fore you, all that I know myself, concerning an affair of the
last importance to the colonies, and to the empire." Here
Joel pricked up his ears, and cast a knowing glance at * the
miller,' a countryman and early neighbour of his own, who
had charge of the grinding for the settlement, and who went
by that appellation * p<ir excellence /' "You all know,"
continued the captain, " that there have been serious diffi
culties between the colonies and parliament, now, for more
than ten years; difficulties that have been, once or twice,
partially settled, but which have as often broken out, in some
new shape, as soon as an old quarrel was adjusted."

IT re the captain paused a moment; and Joel, who was
the usual spokesman of ' the people,' took an occasion to
put a question.

" The captain means, I s'pose," he said, in a sly, half-
honest, half-jcsuitical manner, "the right of parliament to
tax us Americans, without our own consent, or our having
any members in th'-ir Icg//sla/oorp?"

" I mean what you say. The tax on tea, the shutting the
port • . and other steps, have brought larger bodies

of the kinir's troops among us, than have been usual. Boston,
as you probably know, has had a strong garrison, now, for

y

102 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

some months. About six weeks since, the commander-in-
chief sent a detachment out as far as Concord, in New
Hampshire, to destroy certain stores. This detachment had
a meeting with the minute-men, and blood was drawn. A
running fight ensued, in which several hundreds have been
killed and wounded ; and I think I know both sides suffi
ciently well, to predict that a long and bloody civil war is
begun. These are facts you should know, and accordingly
I tell them to you."

This simple, but explicit, account was received very dif
ferently, by the different listeners. Joel Strides leaned for
ward, with intense interest, so as not to lose a syllable.
Most of the New Englanders, or Yankees, paid great atten
tion, and exchanged meaning glances with each other, when
the captain had got through. As for Mike, he grasped a
shillelah that he habitually carried, when not at work, look
ing round, as if waiting for orders from the captain, on
whom to begin. Jamie was thoughtful and grave, and, once
or twice, as the captain proceeded, he scratched his head in
doubt. The Dutch seemed curious, but bewildered, gaping
at each other like men who might make up their minds, if
you wouM give them time, but who certainly had not yet.
As for the blacks, their eyes began to open like saucers,
when they heard of the quarrel ; when it got to the blows,
their mouths were all grinning with the delight of a thing
so exciting. At the mention of the number of the dead,
however, something like awe passed over them, and changed
their countenances to dismay. Nick alone was indifferent.
By the cold apathy of his manner, the captain saw at once
that the battle of Lexington had not been a secret to the
Tuscarora, when he commenced his own account. As the
captain always encouraged a proper familiarity in his de
pendants, he now told them he was ready to answer any
questions they might think expedient to put to him, in grati
fication of their natural curiosity.

" I s'pose this news comes by the major?" asked Joel.
" You may well suppose that, Strides. My son is here,
and we have no other means of getting it."

" Will yer honour be wishful that we shoulther our fire
arms, and go out and fight one of them sides, or t'other?"
demanded Mike.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 103

" I wish nothing of the sort, O'Hearn. It will be time
enough ll>r us to lake a decided part, when we get better
ideas of what is really going on."

** Does'nt the captain, then, think matters have got far
enough towards a head, for the Americans to make up their
minds conclusively, as it might be?" put in Joel, in his very
manner.

" I think it will be wiser for us all to remain where we
are, and as we are. Civil war is a serious matter, Strides,
and no man should rush blindly into its dangers and diffi-
culti*

Joel looked at the miller, and the miller looked at Joel.
Neither said anything, however, at the time. Jamie Allen,
had been out in the * forty-five,' when thirty years younger
than he was that day ; and though he had his predilections
and antipathies, circumstances had taught him prudence.

" Will the parliament, think ye, no be bidding the sol
diery to wark their will on the puir unairtned folk, up and
down the country, and they not provided with the means to
resist them ?"

" Och, Jamie !" interrupted Mike, who did not appear to
deem it necessary to treat this matter with even decent re
spect — " where will be yer valour and stomach, to ask sich
a question as that ! A man is always reathy, when he has
his ar-r-ms and legs free to act accorthing to natur'. What
would a rigiment of throops do ag'in the likes of sich a place
as this ? 1 'm sure it 's tin years I Ve been in it, and I 've
niver been able to find my way out of it. Set a souldier to
rowing on the lake forenent the rising sun, with orders to
get tb the other ind, and a pretty job he 'd make of march
ing on that same ! I knows it, for I Ve thried it, and it is
not a new beginner that will make much of sich oars;
barring he knows nothin' about them."

This was not very intelligible to anybody but Joel, and he
had ceased to laugh at Mike's voyage, now, some six or
seven years ; divers other disasters, all having their origin
in a similar confusion of ideas, having, in the interval, sup
planted that calamity, as it mi<,r'it be, seriatim. Still it was
an indication that Mike might be set down as u belligerent,
who was disposed to follow his leader into the battle, \vithout
troubling him with many questions «•: ocerning the merits

104 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

of the quarrel. Nevertheless, the county Leitrim-man ac
knowledged particular principles, all of which had a certain
influence on his conduct, whenever he could get at them, to
render them available. First and foremost, he cordially
disliked a Yankee ; and he hated an Englishman, both as an
oppressor and a heretic ; yet he loved his master and all that
belonged to him. These were contradictory feelings, cer
tainly ; but Mike was all contradiction, both in theory and
in practice.

The Anglo-Saxon tribe now professed a willingness to
retire, promising to 'think of the matter, a course against
which Mike loudly protested, declaring he never knew any
good come of thinking, when matters had got as far as
blows. Jamie, too, went off scratching his head, and he
was seen to make many pauses, that day, between the
shovels-full of earth he, from time to time, threw around
his plants, as if pondering on what he had heard. As for
the Dutch, their hour had not come. No one expected them
to decide the day they first heard of argument.

The negroes got together, and began to dwell on the
marvels of a battle in which so many Christians had been
put to death. Little Smash placed the slain at a few thou
sands ; but Great Smash, as better became her loftier appel
lation and higher spirit, affirmed that the captain had stated
hundreds of thousands ; a loss, with less than which, as
she contended, no great battle could possibly be fought.

When the captain was housed, Serjeant Joyce demanded
an audience ; the object of which was simply to ask for
orders^ without the least reference to principles.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. ] 05

CHAPTER VII.

We arc all here !

Father, mother,

Sister, brother,

All who hold each other dear.
Each chair is fill'd — we 're all ut home;
To-night K't no cold stranger come :
It is i, .t ..:>, ii thus around
Our old familiar hearth we're found :
. thru, the meeting and the spot;
For once be every care forgot;
Let gentle Peace assert her power,
And kind Affection rule the hour;

We 're all— all here.

SPRAGUE.

ALTHOUGH most of the people retired to their dwellings,
or their labours, as soon as the captain dismissed them, a
few remained to receive his farther orders. Among theso
last were Joel, the carpenter, and the blacksmith. Tin -so
men now joined the chief of the settlement and his son, who
had lingered near the gateway, in conversation concerning
the alterations that the present state of things might render
necessary, in and about the Hut.

" Joel," observed the captain, when the three men were
near enough to hear his orders, " this great change in the
times will render some changes in our means of defence
prudent, if not necessary."

" Does the captain s'pose the people of the colony will
attack vs?" asked the wily overseer, with emphasis.

" Perhaps not the people of the colony, Mr. Stride, l'»r
t\c not yet declared ourselves their enemies ; but there
are other foes, who are more to be apprehended than the
people of the colony."

" I should think the king's troops not likely to trouble
themselves to ventur' here — the road might prove easier to
come than to return. Besides, our plunder would scarce
pay for such a march."

r

106 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" Perhaps not — but there never has yet been a war in
these colonies that some of the savage tribes were not en
gaged in it, before the whites had fairly got themselves into
line."

" Do you really think, sir, there can be much serious
danger of that!" exclaimed the major, in surprise.

" Beyond a question, my son. The scalping-knife will
be at work in six months, if it be not busy already, should
one-half of your reports and rumours turn out to be true.
Such is American history."

" I rather think, sir, your apprehensions for my mother
and sisters may mislead you. I do not believe the Ameri
can authorities will ever allow themselves to be driven into
a measure so perfectly horrible and unjustifiable ; and were
the English ministry sufficiently cruel, or unprincipled, to
adopt the policy, the honest indignation of so humane a
people would be certain to drive them from power."

As the major ceased speaking, he turned and caught the
expression of Joel's countenance, and was struck with the
look of intense interest with which the overseer watched his
own warm and sincere manner.

" Humanity is a very pretty stalking-horse for political
orations, Bob," quietly returned the father ; " but it will
scarcely count for much with an old campaigner. God
send you may come out of this war with the same ingenu
ous and natural feelings as you go into it."

" The major will scarce dread the savages, should he be
on the side of his nat'ral friends !" remarked Joel ; " and if
what he says about the humanity of the king's advisers be
true, he will be safe from them"

" The major will be on the side to which duty calls him,
Mr. Strides, if it may be agreeable to your views of the
matter," answered the young man, with a little more hau
teur than the occasion required.

The father felt uneasy, and he regretted that his son had
been so indiscreet ; though he saw no remedy but by draw
ing the attention of the men to the matter before them.

" Neither the real wishes of the people of America, nor of
the people of England, will avail much, in carrying on this
war," he said. " Its conduct will fall into the hands of
those who will look more to the ends than to the means ;

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 107

and success will be iomid a .--ullieirnt apology for any w
This h::- i-een the history of all the wars of my tinir, audit
is likely to prove tL- hisiury of this. 1 il-ar it will mako
little difference to us on which side we may be in feeling;
there will be s;r uar.l against in either case. This

gate must be hung, one of the first things, Joel ; and I havo
serious thoughts of placing palisades around the Knoll.
The Hut, well palisaded, would make a work that could not
be easily carried, without artillery."

Joel seemed struck with the idea, though it did not appear
that it was favourably. He stood studying the house and
the massive gates for a minute or two, ere he delivered his
sentiments on the subject. When he did speak, it was a
good deal more in doubt, than in approbation.

"It's all very true, captain," he said; the house would
seem to be a good deal more safe like, if the gates were up ;
but, a body don't know ; sometimes gates be a security, and
sometimes they isn't. It all depends on which side the
danger comes. Still, as these are made, and finished all to
hanging, it's 'most a pity, too, they shouldn't be used, if a
body could find time."

" The time must be found, and the gates be hung," inter-
rupted the captain, too much accustomed to Joel's doubting,
'sort-o'-concluding manner, to be always patient under the
infliction. " Not only the gates, but the palisades must be
got out, holes dug, and the circumvallation completed."

" It must be as the captain says, of course, he being
master here. But time 's precious in May. There 's half
our planlin' to be done yet, and some of the ground hasn't
got the last ploughin'. Harvest won't come without seed
time ; for no man, let him be great, or let him be small —
and it does seem to me a sort o' wastin' of the Lord's
blessin's, to be hangin' gates, and diiigin' holes for that —
the thing the captain mentioned — when there's no visible
T in sight to recommend the measure to prudence, as
it mi-ht be."

" That may be your opinion, Mr. Strides, but it is not
mine. I intend to guard against a visible danger that is out
of sight, and I will thank you to have these gates hung, this
very day."

" This very day ! — The captain's a mind to be musical

108 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

about the matter ! Every hand in the settlement couldn't
get them gates in their places in less than a week."

" It appears to me. Strides, you are ' playing on the music,'
as you call it, yourself, now ?"

" No, indeed, captain ; them gates will have to be hung
on the mechanic principle ; and it will take at least two or
three days for the carpenter and blacksmith to get up the
works that 's to do it. Then the hanging, itself, I should
think would stand us in hand a day for each side. As for
the circumvalley, what between the cuttin', and haulin', and
diggin', and settin', that would occupy all hands until after
first hoein'. That is, hoein' would come afore the plantinV

" It does not appear to me, Bob, such a heavy job as Joel
represents ! The gates are heavy, certainly, and may take
us a day or two ; but, as for stockading — I 've seen barracks
stockaded in, in a week, if I remember right. You know
something of this — what is your opinion?'

"That this house can be stockaded in, in the time you
mention ; and, as I have a strong reluctance to leave the
family before it is in security, with your permission I will
remain and superintend the work."

The offer was gladly accepted, on more accounts than
one ; and the captain, accustomed to be obeyed when he
was in earnest, issued his orders forthwith, to let the work
proceed. Joel, however, was excused, in order that he
might finish the planting he had commenced, and which a
very few hands could complete within the required time.
As no ditch was necessary, the work was of a very simple
nature, and the major set about his portion of it without even
re-entering the house.

The first thing was to draw a line for a trench some six
or seven feet deep, that was to encircle the whole building,
at a distance of about thirty yards from the house. This
line ran, on each side of the Hut, on the very verge of the
declivities, rendering the flanks far more secure than the
front, where it crossed the lawn on a gently inclining sur
face. In one hour the major had traced this line, with accu
racy ; and he had six or eight men at work with spades,
digging the trench. A gang of hands was sent into the
woods, with orders to cut the requisite quantity of young
chestnuts; and, by noon, a load of the material actually

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 109

appeared on the ground. Still, nothing was done to the

To own the truth, the captain was now delighted. Tim
scene reminded him of some in liis military life, and ho
bustled about, giving his orders, with a good deal of the firo
ith renewed, taking care, however, in no manner to
re with the plans of his son. .Mike buried himsdf
like a mole, and had actually advanced several feet, before
either of the Yankees had got even a fair footing on the
bottom of his part of the trench. As for Jamie Allen, ho
went to work with deliberation ; but it was not long before
his naked gray hairs were seen on a level with the surface
of the ground. The digging was not hard, though a little
Moiiy, and the work proceeded with spirit and success. All
that day, and the next, and the next, and the next, the Knoll
app.-arcd alive, earth being cast upward, teams moving,
carpenters sawing, and labourers toiling. Many of the men
protested that their work was useless, unnecessary, unlaw
ful even ; but no one dared hesitate under the eyes of the
major, when his father had once issued a serious command.
In the mean time, Joel's planting was finished, though he
made many long pauses while at work on the flats, to look
up and ga/c at the scene of activity and bustle that was
presented at the Knoll. On the fourth day, towards even
ing, he was obliged to join the general " bee," with the few
Irmds he had retained with himself.

By this lime, the trench was dug, most of the timber was
prepared, and the business of setting up the stockade was
commenced. Each young tree was cut to the length of
twenty feet, and pointed at one end. Mortices, to receive
cross-pieces, were cut at proper distances, and holes v.e;e
bored to admit the pins. This was all the preparation, and
the timbers were set in the trench, pointed ends uppermost.
When a snlTioient number were thus arranged, a few inches
from each other, the cross-pieces were pinned on, bringing
tlie whole info a single connected frame, or bent. Th
^•is then raised to a perpendicular, and secured, by pound-
ing the earth around the lower ends of the timbers. The
latter process required care and judgment, and it was en
trusted to the especial supervision of the deliberate Jamie ;
the major having discovered that the Yankees, in general,

VOL. I.— 10

110 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

were too impatient to get on, and to make a show. Serjeant
Joyce was particularly useful in dressing the rows of tim
ber, and in giving the whole arrangement a military air.

" Guid wark is far better than quick wark," observed the
cool-headed Scotchman, as he moved about among the men,
" and it 's no the fuss and bustle of acteevity that is to give
the captain pleasure. The thing that is well done, is done
with the least noise arid confusion. Set the stockades mair
pairpendic'lar, my men."

" Ay — dress them, too, my lads" — added the venerable
ex-serjeant.

" This is queer plantin', Jamie," put in Joel, " and queerer
grain will come of it. Do you think these young chestnuts
will ever grow, ag'in, that you put them out in rows, like so
much corn?"

" Now it 's no for the growth we does it, Joel, but to pre-
sairve the human growth we have. To keep the savage
bairbers o' the wilderness fra' clippin' our polls before the
shearin' time o' natur' has gathered us a' in for the hairvest
of etairnity. They that no like the safety we 're makin' for
them, can gang their way to 'ither places, where they '11 find
no forts, or stockades to trouble their een."

"I'm not critical at all, Jamie, though to my notion a
much better use for your timber plantation would be to turn
it into sheds for cattle, in the winter months. I can see some
good in that, but none in this"

" Bad luck to ye, then, Misthcr Sthroddle," cried Mike,
from the bottom of the trench, where he was using a pound
ing instrument with the zeal of a paviour — " Bad luck to the
likes of ye, say T, Misther Strides. If ye 've no relish for a
fortification, in a time of war, ye've only to shoulther yer
knapsack, and go out into the open counthry, where ye 'II
have all to yer own satisfaction. Is it forthify the house,
will we? That we will, and not a hair of the missuss's
head, nor of the )roung ladies' heads, nor of the masther's
head, though he's mighty bald as it is, but not a hair of all
their heads shall be harmed, while Jamie, and Mike, and
the bould ould serjeant, here, can have their way. I wish
I had the trench full of yer savages, and a gineral funeral
we 'd make of the vagabonds ! Och ! They 're the divil's
imps, I hear from all sides, and no love do I owe them."

THE HUTTED KNOLL. Ill

" And yet you 're the bosom friend of Nick, who's any
thing l)iit what I call a specimen of his people."

"Is it Nick ye 're afther > \\V1I, Nick's half-civilized
accorthin' to yer Yankee manners, and he's no spicimen,
at all. Let him hear you call him by sich a name, if \ e
want throtible."

Joel walked away muttering, leaving the labourers in
doubt whether he relished least the w..rk he was now obliged
to unite in furthering, or Mike's hit at his own peculiar peo
ple. Still the work proceeded, and in one week from the
day it was commenced, the stockade was complete, its gate
pled. The. entrance through the palisades was directly
in front of that to the house, and both passages still remain
ed open, one set of gates not being completed, and the other
not yet beini; hum:.

It was on a Saturday evening when the last palisade was
placed firmly in the ground, and all the signs of the recent
labour were removed, in order to restore as much of the
former beauty of the Knoll as possible. It had been a busy
week; so much so, indeed, as to prevent the major from
holding any of that confidential intercourse with his mother
and sisters, in which it had been his habit to indulge in for-
m-T visits. The fatigues of the days sent everybody to their
pillows early ; and the snatches of discourse which passed,
had been affectionate and pleasant, rather than communica
tive. Now that the principal job was so near being finished,
however, and the rubbish was cleared away, the captain
summoned the family to the lawn again, to enjoy a delicious
evening near the close of the winning month of May. The
season was early, and the weather more bland, than was
usual, even in that sheltered and genial valley. For the
first time that year, Mrs. Willoughby consented to order the
lipago to be carried to a permanent table that had been
placed under the shade of a fine elm, in readiness for any
'nimpttrc of this simple character.

" Come, Wilhelmina, give us a cup of your fragrant
i. of which we have luckily abundance, tax or no tax.
I should lose caste, were it known how much American
treason we have gulped down, in this way ; hut, a little tea,
up here in the forest, can do no man's conscience any great
violence, in the long run. I suppose, major Willoughby,

112 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

His Majesty's forces do not disdain tea, in these stirring
times."

" Far from it, sir ; we deem it so loyal to drink it, that it
is said the port and sherry of the different messes, at Boston,
are getting to be much neglected. I am an admirer of tea,
for itself, however, caring little about its collateral qualities.
Parrel" — " turning to his man, who was aiding Pliny the
elder, in arranging the table — " when you are through here,
bring out the basket you will find on the toilet, in my
room."

" True, Bob," observed the mother, smiling — " that basket
has scarce been treated with civility. Not a syllable of
thanks have I heard, for all the fine things it contains."

" My mind has been occupied with care for your safety,
dear mother, and that must be my excuse. Now, however,
there is an appearance of security which gives one a breath
ing-time, and my gratitude receives a sudden impulse. As
for you, Maud, I regret to be compelled to say that you
stand convicted of laziness ; not a single thing do I owe to
your labours, or recollection of me."

" Is that possible !" exclaimed the captain, who was pour
ing water into the tea-pot. " Maud is the last person I should
suspect of neglect of this nature ; I do assure you, Bob, no
one listens to news of your promotions and movements with
more interest than Maud."

Maud, herself, made no answer. She bent her head aside,
in a secret consciousness that her sister might alone detect,
and form her own conclusions concerning the colour that
she felt warming her cheeks. But, Maud's own sensitive
feelings attributed more to Beulah than the sincere and sim
ple-minded girl deserved. So completely was she accustomed
to regard Robert and Maud as brother and sister, that even
all which had passed produced no effect in unsettling her
opinions, or in .giving her thoughts a new direction. Just
nt this moment Parrel came back, and placed the basket on
the bench, at the side of his master.

" Now, my dearest mother, and you, girls" — the major
had begun to drop the use of the word ' sisters' when ad
dressing both, the young ladies — " Now, my dearest mother,
and you, girls, I am about to give each her due. In the first
place, I confess my own unworthiness, and acknowledge,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 11.'?

that I do not deserve one-half the kind attention T have re.
enved in these various presents, after which we will d- .
to panim;

The major, then, expos. ••! (very article contained in tho
basket* finding tte worda "mother" and " Beuiah" pinned

on cai-h, hut nowhere any indication that his younger .sister
had even home liim in mind. His lather looked siir
at this, not to say a little grave ; and he waited, with evident
curiosity, lor the gilts of Maud, as one thing alter another
came up, without any signs of her having recollected tho
i tee.

" This is odd, truly," observed the father, seriously ; " I
hope, Bob, you have done nothing to deserve this? I should
be sorry to have my little girl affronted !''

" 1 assure you, sir, that I am altogether ignorant of any
act, and I can solemnly protest against any intention, to give
otii-nre. If guilty, I now pray Maud to pardon me."

" You have done nothing, Bob — said nothing, Bob —
thought nothing to offend me," cried Maud, eagerly.

" Why, then, have you forgotten him, darling, when your
mother and sister have done so much in the way of recol
lection ?" asked the captain.

" Forced gifts, my dear father, arc no gifts. I do not like
to be compelled to make presents."

This was uttered in a way to induce the major to throw
all tho articles hack into the basket, as if he wished to get
rid of the subject, without further comment. Owing to this
precipitation, the scarf was not seen. Fortunately for Maud,
who was ready to burst into tears, the service of the tea
prevented any farther allusion to the matter.

" You have told me, major," observed captain Willough-
by, " that your old regiment has a new colonel ; but you
have forgotten to mention his name. I hope it is my old
messmate, Tom Wallingford, who wrote me he had some
such hopes last year."

" General Wallingford has got a Unlit-dragoon regiment —
general Meredith has my old corps ; he is now in this coun
try, at the head of one of (lake's brigades."

It is a strong proof of the manner in which Maud — Maud
Willoughby, as she was ever termed — had become identified
with the family of the Hutted Knoll, that, with two excep-
10*

114 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

tions, not a person present thought of her, when the name
of this general Meredith was mentioned ; though, in truth,
he was the uncle of her late father. The exceptions were
the major and herself. The former now never heard the
name without thinking of his beautiful little playfellow, and
nominal sister; while Maud, of late, had become curious
and even anxious on the subject of her natural relatives.
Still, a feeling akin to awe, a sentiment that appeared as if
it would be doing violence to a most solemn duty, prevented
her from making any allusion to her change of thought, in
the presence of those whom, during childhood, she had
viewed only as her nearest relatives, and who still continued
so to regard her. She would have given the world to ask
Bob a few questions concerning the kinsman he had men
tioned, but could not think of doing so before her mother,
whatever she might be induced to attempt with the young
man, when by himself.

Nick next came strolling along, gazing at the stockade,
and drawing near the table with an indifference to persons
and things that characterized his habits. When close to the
party he stopped, keeping his eye on the recent works.

" You see, Nick, I am about to turn soldier again, in my
old days," observed the captain. " It is now many years
since you and I have met within a line of palisades. How
do you like our work 1"

4; What you make him for, cap'in ?"

" So as to be secure against any red-skins who may hap
pen to long for our scalps."

" Why want your scalp ? Hatchet hasn't been dug up,
a-tween us — bury him so deep can't find him in ten, two,
six year."

" Ay, it has long been buried, it is true ; but you red
gentlemen have a trick of digging it up, with great readi
ness, when there is any occasion for it. I suppose you
know, Nick, that there are troubles in the colonies ?"

" Tell Nick all about him," — answered the Indian, eva
sively — " No read — no hear — don't talk much — talk most
wid Irisher — can't understand what he want — say t'ing one
way, den say him, anoder."

'• Mike is n6t very lucid of a certainty," rejoined the cap-
tain, laughing, all the party joining in the merriment — " but

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 115

he is a sterling good frllnw, and is always to be found, in a

time of iic. 1 1."

"Poor rifle — n- Mx-r hit — shoot one way, look t'other?"
" Ilr i- no Lrivat shot, I will admit; hut li«- is a famous

fellow \\i:h a shillaK h. lias lie gi\vn you any of the

"All ho say, n<-\vs — much news ten time, as one time.
Cap'in lend Nick a quarter dollar, yesterday."

"I did lend you a quarter, certainly, Nick; and I sup
posed it had gone to the miller for rum, before this. What
am I to understand by your holding it out in this manner? —
that you mean to repay mo !"

•• S irtain — good quarter — just like him cap'in lent Nick.
Like as one pea. Ni«-k man "('honour; keep his word."

" This does look more like it than common, Nick. The
money was to be returned to-day, but I did not expect to see
it, so many previous contracts of that nature having been
vacated, as the lawyers call it."

" Tuscarora chief alway gentleman. What he say, he do.
Good quarter dollar, dat, cap'in?"

" It is unexceptionable, old acquaintance ; I 'II not disdain
receiving it, as it may serve for a future loan."

" No need bye'm-by — take him, now — cap'in, lend Nick
dollar ; pay him to-morrow."

The captain protested against the scquitvr that the Indian
evidently wished to establish; declining, though in a good-
natured manner, to lend the larger sum. Nick was disap
pointed, and walked sullenly away, moving nearer to the
stockade, with the air of an offended man.

"That is an extraordinary fellow, sir!" observed the
major — " I really wonder you tolerate him so much about
the Hut. It might be a good idea to banish him, now that
the war has broken out."

" Which would be a thing more easily said than done.

A drop of water miuht as readily be banished from that

i. as an Indian from any part of the forest he may

• t<> visit. You brought him here yourself, Bob, and

should not blame us lor tolerating his presence."

"I brought him, sir, because I found he recognised me
even in th', nd it was wi-o to make a friend of him.

Then I wanted a guide, and I was well assured he knew

116 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

the way, if any man did. He is a surly scoundrel, how
ever, and appears to have changed his character, since 1
was a boy."

" If there be any change, Bob, it is in yourself. Nick has
been Nick these thirty years, or as long as I have known
him. Rascal he is, or his tribe would not have cast him
out. Indian justice is stern, but it is natural justice. No
man is ever put to the ban among the red men, until they
are satisfied he is not fit to enjoy savage rights. In garri
son, we always looked upon Nick as a clever knave, and
treated him accordingly. When one is on his guard against
such a fellow, he can do little harm, and this Tuscarora has
a salutary dread of me, which keeps him in tolerable order,
during his visits to the Hut. The principal mischief he does
here, is to get Mike and Jamie deeper in the Santa Cruz
than I could wish ; but the miller has his orders to sell no
more rum."

" I hardly think you do Nick justice, Willoughby," ob
served the right-judging and gentle wife. " He has some
good qualities ; but you soldiers always apply martial-law
to the weaknesses of your fellow-creatures."

" And you tender-hearted women, my dear Wilhelmina,
think everybody as good as yourselves."

" Remember, Hugh, when your son, there, had the can
ker-rash, how actively and readily the Tuscarora went into
the forest to look for the gold-thread that even the doctors
admitted cured him. It was difficult to find, Robert ; but
Nick remembered a spot where he had seen it, fifty miles
off; and, without a request even, from us, he travelled that
distance to procure it."

" Yes, this is true" — returned the captain, thoughtfully —
" though I question if the cure was owing to the gold-thread,
as you call it, Wilhelmina. Every man has some good
quality or other ; and, I much fear, some bad ones also. —
But, here is the fellow coming back, and I do not like to let
him think himself of sufficient consequence to be the subject
of our remarks."

" Very true, sir — it adds excessively to the trouble of such
fellows, to let them fancy themselves of importance."

Nick, now, came slowly back, after having examined the
recent changes to his satisfaction. He stood a moment in

Till: HUTTED KNOLL. 117

»r tin* table, and then, assuming an air of more
dignity than common, he addiv.-.sed tin- captain.

" Nick ole <•///</'," 1"' >aid. 'l !»'vn at Council Fire, oiVu
as cap'in. Can't tell, all he know; want to hear about
urar.*1

4- \\"hy, Xick, it is a family quarrel, this time. The French
have nothing to do with it."

" Yengeesr liiiht \Vngccsc — um ?"

" I am afraid it will so turn out. Do not the Tuscaroras
somehiix's dig Up t},(. hatchet against th-- Tuscaroras?"

" Tuscarora man kill Tuscarora man — good — he quarrel,
and kill he enemy. But Tuscarora warrior nebher take
scalp of Tus.'arora squaw and j)aj>jx>osc ! What you t'ink
he do dat for? lied man no hog, to eat pork."

" It must be admitted, Nick, you are a very literal logi
cian — * dog won't eat dog,' is our English saying. Still the
Yankee will fight the Ycngccsr, it would seem. In a word,
the Great Father, in England, has raised the hatchet against
hi> American children."

" How you like him, cap'in — um? Which go on straight
path, which go on crooked ? How you like him .'"

"I like it little, Nick, and wish with all my heart the
quarrel had not taken place."

" .Mean to put on regimentals — hah ! Mean to be cap'in,
ag'in ? Follow drum and fife, like ole time?"

" I rather think not, old comrade. After sixty, one likes
peace better than war ; and I intend to stay at home."

" What for, den, build fort? Why you put fence round
a house, like pound for sheep?"

" Because I intend to stay there. The stockade will be
good to keep off any, or every enemy who may take it into
their heads to come against us. You have known me de
fend a worse position than this."

" He got no gate," muttered Nick—" What he good for,
widout gate? Yengeese, Yankees, red man, French man,
walk in just as he please. No good to leave such squaw
wid a door wide open."

"Thank you, Xirk," cried Mrs. Willongjiby. "I knew
yon were my friend, and have not forgotten the gold
thread."

" He very good," answered the Indian, with an important

118 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

look. " Pappoose get well like not'ing. He a'most die, to
day ; to-morrow he run about and play. Nick do him,
too ; cure him wid gold-thread."

" Oh ! you are, or were quite a physician at one time,
Nick. I remember when you had the smallpox, yourself."

The Indian turned, with the quickness of lightning, to
Mrs. Willoughby, whom he startled with his energy, as he
demanded —

" You remember dat, Mrs. cap'in ! Who gib him — who
cure him — urn ?"

" Upon my word, Nick, you almost frighten me. I fear
I gave you the disease, but it was for your own good it was
done. You were inoculated by myself, when the soldiers
were dying around us, because they had never had that
care taken of them. All I inoculated lived; yourself among
the number."

The startling expression passed away from the fierce
countenance of the savage, leaving in its place another so
kind and amicable as to prove he not only was aware of the
benefit he had received, but that he was deeply grateful for-
it. He drew near to Mrs. Willoughby, took her still white
and soft hand in his own sinewy and dark fingers, then
dropped the blanket that he had thrown carelessly across
his body, from a shoulder, and laid it on a mark left by the
disease, by way of pointing to her good work. He smiled,
as this was done.

" Ole mark," he said, nodding his head — " sign we good
friend — he nebber go away while Nick live."

This touched the captain's heart, and he tossed a dollar
towards the Indian, who suffered it, however, to lie at his
feet unnoticed. Turning to the stockade, he pointed sig
nificantly at the open gate-ways.

" Great danger go t'rough little 'ole," he said, senten-
tiously, walking away as he concluded. " Why you leave
big 'ole open ?"

" We must get those gates hung next week," said the
captain, positively ; " and yet it is almost absurd to appre
hend anything serious in this remote settlement, and that at
so early a period in the war."

Nothing further passed on the lawn worthy to be record
ed. The FUQ set, and the family withdrew into the house.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 119

as usual, to trust to the overseeing care of Divine Provi-
, throughout a night passed in a wilderness. By
common consent, the discourse turned upon things noway
connected with the. civil war, or its expected results, until
tin- party was about to separate for the night, when the
major i'ound himself alone with his sisters, in his own little
parlour, dressing-room, or study, whatever the room adjoin
ing liis chamber could properly l>e. called.

•• N on will not leave us >o<ui, Robert," said Beulah, taking
her brother's hand, with confiding affection, "I hardly
think my father young and active enough, or rather alarmed
enough, to live in times like these !"

" lie is a soldier, Beulah, and a good one ; so good that
his son can teach him nothing1. I wish I could say that he
is as good a subject : I fear he leans to the side of the colo
nies."

"Heaven be praised!" exclaimed Beulah — "Oh! that
his son would incline in the same direction."

" Nay, Beulah," rejoined Maud, reproachfully ; " you
speak without reflection. Mamma bitterly regrets that papa
sees things in the light he does. She thinks the parliament
right, and the colonies wrong."

" What a thing is a civil war !" ejaculated the major — •
"Here is husband divided against wife — son against father
— brother against sister. I could almost wish I were dead,
ere I had lived to see this !"

" Nay, Robert, it is not so bad as that, either," added
Maud. " My mother will never oppose my father's will or
judgment. Good wives, you know, never do that. She will
only pray that he may decide right, and in a way that his
children will never have cause to regret. As for me, I count
for nothing, of coin

And IJeuluh, Maud; is she nothing, too? Here will
be praying for her brother's defeat, throughout this
war. It has been some presentiment of this dillerence of
opinion that has probably induced you to forget me, while
Beulah and my mother were passing so many hours to fill
that IK:

" Perhaps you do Maud injustice, Robert," said Beulah,
smiling. " I think I can say none loves you better than

120 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

our dear sister — or no one has thought of you more, in your
absence."

" Why, then, does the basket contain no proof of this
remembrance — not even a chain of hair — a purse, or a ring
— nothing, in short, to show that I have not been forgotten,
when away."

" Even if this be so," said Maud, with spirit, " in what
am I worse than yourself. What proof is there that you
have remembered us?"

" This," answered the major, laying before his sisters two
small packages, each marked with the name of its proper
owner. " My mother has her's, too, and my father has not
been forgotten."

Beulah's exclamations proved how much she was gratified
with her presents ; principally trinkets and jewelry, suited
to her years and station. First kissing the major, she de
clared her mother must see what she had received, before
she retired for the night, and hurried from the room. That
Maud was not less pleased, was apparent by her glowing
cheeks and tearful eyes ; though, for a wonder, she was far
more restrained in the expression of her feelings. After
examining the different articles, with pleasure, for a minute
or two, she went, with a quick impetuous movement, to the
basket, tumbled alt its contents on the table, until she reach
ed the scarf, which she tossed towards the major, saying,
with a faint laugh —

"There, unbeliever — heathen — is that nothing? Was
that made in a minute, think you ?"

" This!" cried the major, opening the beautiful, glossy
fabric in surprise. " Is not this one of my father's old
sashes, to which I have fallen heir, in the order of nature?"

Maud dropped her trinkets, and seizing two corners of the
sash, she opened it, in a way to exhibit its freshness and
beauty.

" Is this oZc?, or worn?" she asked, reproachfully. " Your
father never even saw it, Bob. It has not yet been around
the waist of man."

" It is not possible !— This would be the work of months
— is so beautiful — you cannot have purchased it."

Maud appeared distressed at his doubts. Opening the
folds still wider, she raised the centre of the silk to the light,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 121

and pointed to certain letters that had been wrought into the
fabric, so ingeniously as to escape ordinary observation, and
yet so plainly as to be distinctly legible when the attention
was once drawn to them. The major took the sash into his
own hands altogether, held it opened before the candles, and
read the words "Maud Meredith" aloud. Dropping the
sash, he turned to seek the face of the donor, but she had
fled the room. He followed her footsteps and entered the
library, just as she was about to escape from it, by a different
door.

" I am offended at your incredulity," said Maud, making
an effort to laugh away the scene, " and will not remain to
hear lame excuses. Your new regiment can have no nature
in it, or brothers would not treat sisters thus."

" Maud Meredith is not my sister," he said, earnestly,
" though Maud Willoughby may be. Why is the name
Meredith ?"

"As a retort to one of your own allusions — did you not
call me Miss Meredith, one day, when I last saw you in
Albany?"

" Ay, but that was in jest, my dearest Maud. It was not
a deliberate thing, like the name on that sash."

" Oh ! jokes may be premeditated as well as murder ;
and many a one is murdered, you know. Mine is a pro
longed jest."

** Tell me, does my mother — does Beulah know who mado
this sash ?"

" How else could it have been made, Bob? Do you think
I went into the woods, and worked by myself, like some
romantic damsel who had an unmeaning secret to keep
against the curious eyes of persecuting friends !"

" I know not what I thought — scarce know what I think
now. But, my mother; does she know of this name?"

Maud blushed to the eyes ; but the habit and the love of
truth were so strong in her, that she shook her head in the
negative.

" Xor Beulah? — She, I am certain, would not have per-
mitted ' Meredith' to appear where * Willoughby' should have
been."

" Nor Beulah, either, major Willoughby," pronouncing
the name with an affectation of reverence. " The honour

VOL. I. — 11

122 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

of the Willoughbys is thus preserved from every taint, and
all the blame must fall on poor Maud Meredith."

" You dislike the name of Willoughby, then, and intend
to drop it, in future — I have remarked that you sign your
self only ' Maud,' in your last letters — never before, how
ever, did I suspect the reason."

" Who wishes to live for ever an impostor ? It is not my
legal name, and I shall soon be called on to perform legal
acts. Remember, Mr. Robert Willoughby, I am twenty ;
when it comes to pounds, shillings, and pence, I must not
forge. A little habit is necessary to teach me the use of
my own bond Jlde signature."

"But ours — the name is not hateful to you — you do not
throw it aside, seriously, for ever !"

" Yours! What, the honoured name of my dear, dearest
father — of my mother — of Beulah — of yourself, Bob !"

Maud did not remain to terminate her speech. Bursting
into tears, she vanished.

CHAPTER VIII.

The village tower — 'tis joy to me ! — I cry, the Lord is here !
The village bells ! They fill the soul with ecstasy sincere.
And thus, I sing, the light hath shined to lands in darkness hurled,
Their sound is now in all the earth, their words throughout the
world.

COXE.

ANOTHER night past in peace within the settlement of
the Hutted Knoll. The following morning was the Sabbath,
and it came forth, balmy, genial, and mild ; worthy of the
great festival of the Christian world. On the subject of reli
gion, captain Willoughby was a little of a martinet ; under
standing by liberty of conscience, the right of improving by
the instruction of those ministers who belonged to the church
of England. Several of his labourers had left him because
he refused to allow of any other ministrations on his estate;
his doctrine being that every man had a right to do as he
pleased in such matters ; and as he did not choose to allow

TUB HUTTED KNOLL. 123

of schism, within the sphere of his own influence, if others
1 to be schismatics they were at liberty to go else
where, in order to indulge their tastes. Joel Strides and
Jamie Allen were both disatleeted to this sort of orthodoxy,
and they h;ul frequent private discussions on its propriety ;
rmer in his usual wily and Jesuitical mode of sneering
and insinuating, and the latter respectfully as related to his
,i-stly as it concerned his conscience. Others,
too, were dissentients, but with less repining; though occa
sionally they would stay away from Mr. Wood's services.
Mike, alone, took an open and manly stand in the matter,
and he a little out-Heroded Herod ; or, in other words, he
exceeded the captain himself in strictness of construction.
On the very morning we have just described, he was present
at a discussion between the Yankee overseer and the 'Scotch
mason, in which these two dissenters, the first a congrega-
tionalist, and the lasf a seceder, were complaining of the
hardships of a ten years' abstinence, during which no spiritual
provender had been fed out to them from a proper source.
The Irishman broke out upon the complainants in a way
that will at once let the reader into the secret of the county
Leitrim-man's principles, if he has any desire to know
them.

" Bad luck to all sorts of religion but the right one !" cried
Mike, in a most tolerant spirit. «« Who d'ye think will be
wishful of hearing mass and pr'aching that comes from any
of your heretick parsons? Ye're as dape in the mire yer-
selves, as Mr. Woods is in the woods, and no one to lade
ye out of either, but an evil spirit that would rather see all
mankind br'iling in agony, than dancing at a fair."

" Go to your confessional, Mike," returned Joel, with a
sneer — " It 's a month, or more, sin' you^ seen it, and the
priest will think you have forgotten him, and go away
offended."

"Och! It's such a praist, as the likes of yees has no
nade of throubling ! Yer conscience is aisy, Misther Straddle,
so that yer belly is filled, and yer wages is paid. Bad luck
to sich religion !"

The allusion of Joel related to a practice of Michael's that
is deserving of notice. It seems that the poor fellow, ex
cluded by his insulated position from any communication

r ' ' — ~

124 THE HtlTTED KNOLL.

with a priest of his own church, was in the habit of resort
ing- to a particular rock in the forest, where he would kneel
and acknowledge his sins, very much as he would have
done had the rock been a confessional containing one
authorized to grant him. absolution. Accident revealed
the secret, and from that time Michael's devotion was a
standing jest among the dissenters of the valley. The
county Leitrimrnan was certainly a little too much ad
dicted to Santa Cruz, and he was accused of always visit
ing his romantic chapel after a debauch. Of course, he
was but little pleased with Joel's remark on the present
occasion ; and being, like a modern newspaper, somewhat
more vituperative than logical, he broke out as related.

"Jamie," continued Joel, too much accustomed to
Mike's violence to heed it, " it does seem to me a hardship
to be obliged to frequent a church of, which a man's con
science can't approve. Mr. Woods, though a native
colonist, is an Old England parson, and he has so many
popish ways about him, that I am under considerable
concern of mind" — concern, of itself, was not sufficiently
emphatic for one of Joel's sensitive feelings — " I am
under considerable concern of mind about the children.
They sit under no other preaching; and, though Lyddy
and I do all we can to gainsay the sermons, as soon as
meetin' is out, some of it will stick. You may worry the
best Christian into idolatry and unbelief, by parseverance
and falsehood. Now that things look so serious, too, in
the colonies, we ought to be most careful."

Jamie did not clearly understand the application of the
present state of the colonies, nor had he quite made up his
mind, touching the merits of the quarrel between parlia
ment and the Americans. As between the Stuarts and the
House of Hanover, he was for the former, and that mainly
because he thought them Scotch, and it was surely a good
thing for a Scotchman to govern England ; but, as between
the Old countries and the New, he was rather inclined to
think the rights of the first ought to predominate ; there be
ing something opposed to natural order, agreeably to his
notions, in permitting the reverse of this doctrine to prevail.
Asforpresbyterianism, however, evenin the mitigated form
of New England church government, he deemed it to be so

TUB HUTTED KNOLL. 125

much tatter than episcopacy, that he would have taken up
arms, <>M as lie was, for the party that it could be made to
appear was lighting to uphold the last. \\ e have no wish
t<> mislead the reader. Neither of the persons mentioned,
Mike included, actually k/uw anything of the points in dis
pute between the di lib rent sects, or churches, mentioned ;
but only fancied themselves in possession of the doctrines,
traditions, and authorities connected with the subject. These
lanries, h<>\v<-ver, served to keep alive a discussion that soon
had many listeners; and never before, since his first minis
tration in the valley, did Mr. Woods meet as disaffected a
congregation, as on this day.

The church of the Hutted Knoll, or, as the clergyman
more modestly termed it, the chapel, stood in the centre of
the meadows, on a very low swell of their surface, where a
bit of solid dry ground had been discovered, fit for such a
purpose. The principal object had been to make it central ;
though some attention had been paid also to the picturesque.
It was well shaded with young elms, just then opening into
leaf; and about a dozen graves, principally of very young
children, were memorials of the mortality of the settlement.
The building was of stone, the work of Jamie Allen's own
hands, but small, square, with a pointed roof, and totally
without tower, or belfry. The interior was of unpainted
cherry, and through a want of skill in the mechanics, had
a cold and raw look, little suited to the objects of the struc
ture. Still, the small altar, the desk and the pulpit, and the
large, square, curtained pew of the captain, the only one the
house contained, were all well ornamented with hangings,
or cloth, and gave the place somewhat of an air of clerical
comfort and propriety. The rest of the congregation sat on
benches, with kneeling-boards before them. The walls were
plastered, and, a proof that parsimony had no conn
with the simple character of the building, and a thing almost
as unusual in America at that period as it is to-day in parts
of Italy, the rhapel was entirely finished.

It has boon said that the morning of the particular Sab
bath at which we have now arrived, was mild and balmy.
The sun of the forty-third decree of latitude poured out its
genial rays upon the valley, ^ildin^ the tender leaves of the
surrounding forest with such touches of light as are best
11*

126 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

known to the painters of Italy. The fineness of the weather
brought nearly all the working people of the settlement to
the chapel quite an hour before the ringing of its little bell,
enabling the men to compare opinions afresh, on the subject
of the political troubles of the times, and the women to
gossip about their children.

On all such occasions, Joel was a principal spokesman,
nature having created him for a demagogue, in a small way;
an office for which education had in no degree unfitted him.
As had been usual with him, of late, he turned the discourse
on the importance of having correct information of what
was going on, in the inhabited parts of the country, and of
the expediency of sending some trustworthy person on such
an errand. He had frequently intimated his own readiness
to go, if his neighbours wished it.

" We're all in the dark here," he remarked, " and might
stay so to the end of time, without some one to be relied on,
to tell us the news. Major Willoughby is a fine man" —
Joel meant morally, not physically — " but he 's a king's
officer, and nat'rally feels inclined to make the best of things
for the rig'lars. The captain, too, was once a soldier, him
self, and his feelin's turn, as it might be, unav'idably, to the
side he has been most used to. We are like people on a
desart island, out here in the wilderness — and if ships won't
arrive to tell us how matters come on, we must send one
out to 1'arn it for us. I 'm the last man at the Dam" — so
the oi polloi called the valley — " to say anything hard of
either the captain or his son ; but one is English born, and
the other is English bred ; and each will make a difference
in a man's feelin's."

To this proposition the miller, in particular, assented ;
and, for the twentieth time, he made some suggestion about
the propriety of Joel's going himself, in order to ascertain
how the land lay.

" You can be back by hoeing," he added, " and have
plenty of time to go as far as Boston, should you wish to."

Now, while the great events were in progress, which led
to the subversion of British power in America, an under
current of feeling, if not of incidents, was running in this
valley, which threatened to wash away the foundations of
the captain's authority. Joel and the miller, if not down-

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 127

right conspirators, had hopes, calculations, and even projects
of their own, that never would have originated with men of
the same class, in another state of society; or, it might
almost be said, in another part of the world. The sagacity
of the overseer had long enabled him to foresee that the
pf the present troubles would be insurrection; and a
sort of instinct which some men possess for the strongest
side, had pointed out to him the importance of being a pa
triot. The captain, he little doubted, would take part with
the crown, and then no one knew what might be the conse
quences. It is not probable that Joel's instinct for tho
strongest side predicted the precise confiscations that subse
quently ensued, some of which had all the grasping lawless
ness of a gross abuse of power; but he could easily foresee
that if the owner of the estate should be driven off, the pro
perty and its proceeds, probably for a series of years, would
be very apt to fall under his own control and management.
Many a patriot has been made by anticipations less brilliant
than these ; and as Joel and the miller talked the matter
over between them, they had calculated all the possible
emolument of fattening beeves, and packing pork for hostile
armies, or isolated frontier posts, with a strong gusto for
the occupation. Should open war but fairly commence, and
could the captain only be induced to abandon the Knoll, and
take refuge within a British camp, everything might be mado
to go smoothly, until settling day should follow a peace. At
that moment, non cst inventus would be a sufficient answer
to a demand for any balance.

" They tell me," said Joel, in an aside to the miller, " that
law is as good as done with in the Bay colony, already ; and
you know if the law has run out Mere, it will quickly come
to an end, here. York never had much character for law."

" That 's true, Joel ; then you know the captain himself
is the only magistrate hereabout ; and, when he is away,
we shall have to be governed by a committee of safety, or
something of that natur'."

" A committee of safety will be the thin^ !"

"What is a committee of safety, Joel?" demanded the
miller, who had made far less progress in the arts of the
demagogue than his friend, and who, in fact, had much less

128 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

native fitness for the vocation ; " I have heer'n tell of them
regulations, but do not rightly understand 'em, a'ter all."

" You know what a committee is ?" asked Joel, glancing
inquiringly at his friend.

" I s'pose I do — it means men's takin' on themselves the
trouble and care of public business."

" That 's it — now a committee of safety means a few of
us, for instance, having the charge of the affairs of this
settlement, in order to see that no harm shall come to any
thing, especially to the people."

" It would be a good thing to have one, here. The car
penter, and you, and I might be members, Joel."

"We'll talk about it, another time. The corn is just
planted, you know ; and it has got to be hoed twice, and
topped, before it can be gathered. Let us wait and see how
things come on at Boston."

While this incipient plot was thus slowly coming to a
head, and the congregation was gradually collecting at the
chapel, a very different scene was enacting in the Hut.
Breakfast was no sooner through, than Mrs. Willoughby
retired to her own sitting-room, whither her son was shortly
summoned to join her. Expecting some of the inquiries
which maternal affection might prompt, the major proceeded
to the place named with alacrity ; but, on entering the room,
to his great surprise he found Maud with his mother. The
latter seemed grave and concerned, while the former was
not entirely free from alarm. The young man glanced in
quiringly at the young lady, and he fancied he saw tears
struggling to break out of her eyes.

" Come hither, Robert" — said Mrs. Willoughby, pointing
to a chair at her side — with a gravity that struck her son as
unusual — " I have brought you here to listen to one of the
old-fashioned lectures, of which you got so many when a
boy."

" Your advice, my dear mother — or even your reproofs —
would be listened to with far more reverence and respect,
now, than I fear they were then," returned the major, seat
ing himself by the side of Mrs. Willoughby, and taking one
of her hands, affectionately, in both his own. " It is only
in after-life that we learn to appreciate the tenderness and
care of such a parent as you have been ; though what I

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 129

lone lately, to bring me in danger of the guard-house,
1 cannot imagine. Stirelv yon eanirot blame me lor adhering
to the crown, at a nnnm-nt like this !"

44 1 shall not invni-iv with \c>ur conscience in this matter,
Robert; and my own ((.•clings, American as I am by birth
nnd family, rather incline me to think as you think. I have
wished to see you, my son, on a different business."

44 Do not keep me in suspense, mother ; I feel like a pri
soner who is waiting to hear his charges read. What have
Ido.

'• Nay, it is rather for you to tell me what you have done.
You cannot have forgotten, Hubert, lu>w very anxious I have
been to awaken and keep alive tamilv affection, among my
children; how very important both your father and I have:
always deemed it ; and how strongly we have endeavoured
to impress this importance on all your minds. The tie of
family, and the love it ought to produce, is one of the sweetest
of all our earthly duties. Perhaps we old people see its value
more than you young ; but, to us, the weakening of it seems
like a disaster only a little less to be deplored than death."

" Dearest — dearest mother ! What can you — what do
you mean ? — What can / — what can Maud have to do with
this?"

44 Do not your consciences tell you, both? Has there not
been some misunderstanding — perhaps a quarrel — certainly
a coldness between you ? A mother has a quick and a jea
lous eye ; and I have seen, for some time, that there is not
the old confidence, the free natural manner, in either of
you, that there used to be, and which always gave your
father and me so much genuine happiness. Speak, then,
and let me make peace between you."

Robert WiUoughby would not have looked at Maud, at
that moment, to have been given a regiment; as f>r Maud,
herself, she was utterly incapable of raising her eyes from
the floor. The former coloured to the temples, a proof of
consciousness, his mother fancied ; while the latter's face
resembled ivory, as much as flesh and bl«»>d.

"If you think, Robert," continued Mrs. Willouiihhy,
44 that M.-in.l has forgotten you, or shown pique for any little
former misunderstanding, during your last absence, you do
her injustice. No one has done as much for you, in tho

130 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

way of memorial ; that beautiful sash being all her own
work, and made of materials purchased with her own pocket-
money. Maud loves you truly, too ; for, whatever may be
the airs she gives herself, while you are together, when
absent, no one seems to care more for your wishes and
happiness, than that very wilful and capricious girl."

" Mother ! — mother !" murmured Maud, burying her face
in both her hands.

Mrs. Willoughby was woman in all her feelings, habits
and nature. No one would have been more keenly alive
to the peculiar sensibilities of her sex, under ordinary cir
cumstances, than herself; but she was now acting and
thinking altogether in her character of a mother ; and so
long and intimately had she regarded the two beings before
her, in that common and sacred light, that it would have
been like the dawn of a new existence for her, just then, to
look upon them as not really akin to each other.

" I shall not, nor can I treat either of you as a child,"
she continued, " and must therefore appeal only to your
own good sense, to make a peace. I know it can be nothing
serious ; but, it is painful to me to see even an affected cola-
ness among my children. Think, Maud, that we are on the
point of a war, and how bitterly you would regret it, should
any accident befall your brother, and your memory not be
able to recall the time passed among us, in his last visit, with
entire satisfaction."

The mother's voice trembled ; but tears no longer strug
gled about the eyelids of Maud. Her face was pale as
death, and it seemed as if every ordinary fountain of sorrow
were dried up.

" Dear Bob, this is too much !" she said eagerly, though
in husky tones. " Here is my hand — nay, here are both.
Mother must not think this cruel charge is — can be true."

The major arose, approached his sister, and impressed a
kiss on her cold cheek. Mrs. Willoughby smiled at these
tokens of amity, and the conversation continued in a less
earnest manner.

" This is right, my children," said the single-hearted
Mrs. Willoughby, whose sensitive maternal love saw no
thing but the dreaded consequences of weakened domestic
affections ; " and I shall be all the happier for having wit-

T11E HUTTED KNOLL. 131

ncsscd it. Young soldiers, Maud, who arc sent early from
their h«>mes, have tuo many induceraenta to forget them and
those they contain ; and we women are so dependent on tho
f our male friends, that it is^wisdom in us to keep
alive all the earlier ties as long and as much as possible."

"I am sure, dearest mother," murmured Maud, though
in a voice that was scarcely audible, u / shall be the last to
wish to weaken this family tie. No one can feel a warmer —
a more proper — a more sisterly affection for Robert, than I
do — he was always so kind to me when a child — and so
ready to assist me — and so manly — and so everything that
he ought to be — it is surprising you should have fancied
there was any coldness between us !"

.Major Willoughby even bent forward to listen, so intense
was his curiosity to hear what Maud said ; a circumstance
which, had she seen it, would probably have closed her lips.
But her eyes were riveted on the floor, her cheeks were
bloodless, and her voice so low, that nothing but the breath
less stillness he observed, would have allowed the young
man to hear it, where he sat.

" You forget, mother" — rejoined the major, satisfied that
the last murmur had died on his ears — " that Maud will
probably be transplanted into another family, one of these
days, where we, who know her so well, and have reason to
love her so much, can only foresee that she will form new,
and even stronger ties than any that accident may have
formed for her here."

" Never — never" — exclaimed Maud, fervently — " I can
never love any as well as I love those who are in this
house."

The relief she wanted slopped her voice, and, bursting
into tears, she threw herself into Mrs. Willoughby's arms,
and sobbed like a child. The mother now motioned to her
son to quit the room, while she remained herself to soothe
the weeping girl, as she so often had done before, when
overcome by her infantile, or youthful griefs. Throughout
this interview, habit and single-heartedness so exercised
their influence, that the excellent matron did not, in the most
remote manner, recollect that her son and Maud were not
natural relatives. Accustomed herself to see the latter every
day, and to think of her, as she had from the moment when

132 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

she was placed in her arms, an infant of a few weeks old,
the effect that separation might produce on others, never
presented itself to her mind. Major Willoughby, a boy of
eight when Maud was received in the family, had known
from the first her precise position ; and it was perhaps mor
ally impossible that he should not recall the circumstance in
their subsequent intercourse; more especially as school,
college, and the army, had given him so much leisure to
reflect on such things, apart from the influence of family
habits ; while it was to be expected that a consequence of his
own peculiar mode of thinking on this subject, would be to
produce something like a sympathetic sentiment in the bosom
of Maud. Until within the last few years, however, she had
been so much of a child herself, and had been treated so
much like a child by the young soldier, that it was only
through a change in him, that was perceptible only to her
self, and which occurred when he first met her grown into
womanhood, that she alone admitted any feelings that were
not strictly to be referred to sisterly regard. All this, never
theless, was a profound mystery to every member of the
family, but the two who were its subjects ; no other thoughts
than the simplest and most obvious, ever suggesting them
selves to the minds of the others.

In half an hour, Mrs. Willoughby had quieted all Maud's
present troubles, and the whole family left the house to repair
to the chapel. Michael, though he had no great reverence
for Mr. Wood's ministrations, had constituted himself sexton,
an office which had devolved on him in consequence of his
skill with the spade. Once initiated into one branch of this
duty, he had insisted on performing all the others ; and it
was sometimes a curious spectacle to see the honest fellow,
busy about the interior of the building, during service, liter
ally stopping one of his ears with a thumb, with a view,
while he acquitted himself of what he conceived to be tem
poral obligations, to exclude as much heresy as possible,
One of his rules was to refuse to commence tolling the bell,
until he saw Mrs. Willoughby and her daughter, within a
reasonable distance of the place of worship ; a rule that had
brought about more than one lively discussion between him
self and the levelling-minded, if not heavenly-minded Joel

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 133

Strides. On the present occasion, this simple process did
not pass altogether without a dispute

'• ('"in'-, .Mike; it's half-past ten; the people have been
waiting about the merlin' 'us, some time; you should open
the doors, and toll the bell. People can't wait, for ever,
for anybody ; not even for your church."

" Then let 'em just go home, ag'in, and come when
they're called. !>• cause, the ould women, and the young
women, and the childcr, and the likes o' them, wishes to
scandalize their fellow cr'atures, Christians I will not call
'em, let 'cm mate in the mill, or the school-house, and not
come forenent a church on sich a business as that. Is it
toll the bell, will I, afore the Missus is in sight? — No — not
for a whole gineration of ye, Joel ; and every one o' them,
too, a much likelier man than ye bees yerself."

" Religion is no respecter of persons" — returned the phi
losophical Joel. " Them that likes masters and mistresses
may have them, for all me ; but it riles me to meet with
meanness."

" It does !" cried Mike, looking up at his companion, with
a very startling expression of wonder. " If that be true, ye
must be in a mighty throubled state, most of the live-long
day, ye must !"

" I tell you, Michael O'Hearn, religion is no respecter of
persons. The Lord cares jist as much for me, as he does
for captain Willoughby, or his wife, or his son, or his dar
ters, or anything that is his."

" Divil burn me, now, Joel, if I believe that!" again cried
Mike, in his dogmatic manner. " Them that understands
knows the difference between mankind, and I 'm sure it can
be no great sacrct to the I/ord, when it is so well known to
a poor fellow like myself. There 's a plenthy of fellow-
cr'alures that has a mighty good notion of their own excel
lence, but when it comes to r'ason and thruth, it's no very
great figure ye all make, in proving what ye say. This
chapel is the master's, if chapel the heretical box cnn bo
called, and yonder bell was bought wid his money; and the
rope is his ; and the hands that mane to pull it, is his ; and
so there's little use in talking ag'in rocks, and ag'in minds
that 's made up even harder than rocks, and to spare."

This settled the matter. The bell was not tolled until

VOL. I. — 12

134 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

Mrs. Willoughby, and her daughters, had got fairly through
the still unprotected gateway of the stockade, although the
recent discussion of political questions had so far substituted
discontent for subordination in the settlement, that more
than half of those who were of New England descent, had
openly expressed their dissatisfaction at the delay. Mike,
however, was as unmoved as the little chapel itself, refusing
to open the door until the proper moment had arrived, ac
cording to his own notion of the fitness of things. He then
proceeded to the elm, against which the little bell was hung,
and commenced tolling it with as much seriousness as if the
conveyer of sounds had been duly consecrated.

When the family from the Hut entered the chapel, all the
rest of the congregation were in their customary seats. This
arrival, however, added materially to the audience, Great
Smash and Little Smash, the two Plinys, and some five or
six coloured children, between the ages of six and twelve,
following in the train of their master. For the blacks, a
small gallery had been built, where they could sit apart, a
proscribed, if not a persecuted race. Little did the Plinys
or the Smashes, notwithstanding, think of this. Habit had
rendered their situation more than tolerable, for it had
created notions and usages that would have rendered them
uncomfortable, in closer contact with the whites. In that
day, the two colours never ate together, by any accident ;
the eastern castes being scarcely more rigid in the observ
ance of their rules, than the people of America were on this
great point. The men who would toil together, joke toge
ther, and pass their days in familiar intercourse, would not
sit down at the same board. There seemed to be a sort of
contamination, according to the opinions of one of these
castes, in breaking bread with the other. This prejudice often
gave rise to singular scenes, more especially in the house
holds of those who habitually laboured in company with
their slaves. In such families, it not unfrequently happened
that a black led the councils of the farm. He might be seen
seated by the fire, uttering his opinions dogmatically, rea
soning warmly against his own master, and dealing out his
wisdom ex cathedra, even while he waited, with patient
humility, when he might approach, and satisfy his hunger,
after all of the other colour had quitted the table.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 135

Mr. Woods was not fortunate in the selection of his sub<
j'-ct, on the occasion of which we are writing. There had
been so much personal activity, and so much political dis
cussion during the past week, as to prevent him from writing
a new sermon, and of course he was compelled to fall back
on the o her end of the barrel. Tin; recent arguments in
clined him to maintain his own opinions, and he chose a
discourse that he had delivered to the garrison of which he
had last been chaplain. To this choice he had been enticed
by the text, which was, " Render unto Cccsar the things
that are Ciesar's," a mandate that would be far more pala
table to an audience composed of royal troops, than to one
which had become a good deal disaffected by the ar:
arguments of Joel Strides and the miller. Still, as the ser
mon contained a proper amount of theological truisms, and
had a sufficiency of general orthodoxy to cover a portion
of its political bearing, it gave far more dissatisfaction to a
few of the knowing, than to the multitude. To own the
truth, the worthy priest was so much addicted to continuing
his regimental and garrison course of religious instruction,
that his ordinary listeners would scarcely observe this ten
dency to loyalty ; though it was far different with those who
were eagerly looking for causes of suspicion and denuncia
tion, in the higher quarters.

" Well," said Joel, as he and the miller, followed by their
respective families, proceeded towards the mill, where the
household of the Strides' were to pass the remainder of the
day, " well, this is a bold sermon for a minister to preach
in times like these ! I kind o' guess, if Mr. Woods was down
in the Bay, ' render unto Cccsar the things that are Coesars,'
wouldn't be doctrine to be so quietly received by every con
gregation. What's your notion about that, Miss Strides?"

Miss Strides thought exactly as her husband thought,
and the miller and his wife were not long in chiming in
with her, accordingly. The sermon furnished material for
conversation throughout the remainder of the day, at the
mill, and divers conclusions were drawn from it, that were
ominous to the preacher's future comfort and security.

Nor did the well-meaning parson entirely escape comment
in the higher quarters.

*' I wish, Woods, you had made choice of some other

136 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

subject," observed the captain, as he and his friend walked
the lawn together, in waiting for a summons to dinner.
" In times like these, one cannot be too careful of the politi
cal notions he throws out; and to own the truth to you, I
am more than half inclined to think that Caesar is exercising
quite as much authority, in these colonies, as justly falls to
his share."

" Why, my dear captain, you have heard this very ser
mon three or four times already, and you have more than
once mentioned it with commendation !"

"Ay, but that was in garrison, where one is obliged to
teach subordination. I remember the sermon quite well,
and a very good one it was, twenty years since, when you
first preached it ; but — "

" I apprehend, captain Willoughby, that * tempora mu-
tantur, et, nos mutamus in illis.' That the r^andates and
maxims of the Saviour are far beyond the mutations and
erring passions of mortality. His sayings are intended for
all times."

" Certainly, as respects their general principles and go
verning truths. But no text is to be interpreted without
some reference to circumstances. All I mean is, that the
preaching which might be very suitable to a battalion of
His Majesty's Fortieth might be very unsuitable for the
labourers of the Hutted Knoll ; more especially so soon
after what I find is called the Battle of Lexington."

The summons to dinner cut short the discourse, and pro
bably prevented a long, warm, but friendly argument.

That afternoon and evening, captain Willoughby and his
son had a private and confidential discourse. The former
advised the major to rejoin his regiment without delay,
unless he were prepared to throw up his commission and
take sides with the colonists, altogether. To this the young
soldier would not listen, returning to the charge, in the hope
of rekindling the dormant flame of his father's loyalty.

The reader is not to suppose that captain Willoughby's
own mind was absolutely made up to fly into open rebellion.
Far from it. He had his doubts and misgivings on the
subjects of both principles and prudence, but he inclined
strongly to the equity of the demands of the Americans.
Independence, or separation, if thought of at all in 1775,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 137

entered into the projects of but very few ; the warmest wish
of the most ardent of the whigs of the colonies being directed
toward compromise, and a distinct recognition of their poli
tical franchises. The events that followed so thickly were
merely the consequences of causes which, once set in- mo
tion, soon attained an impetus tint defied ordinary human
control. It was doubtless one of the leading incidents of
the great and mysterious scheme of Divine Providence for
the government of the future destinies of man, that political
separation should commence, in this hemisphere, at that
particular juncture, to be carried out, ere the end of a cen
tury, to its final and natural conclusion.

But the present interview was less to debate the merits
of any disputed question, than to consult on the means of
future intercourse, and to determine on what was best to be
done at the present moment. After discussing the matter,
pro and con, it was decided that the major should quit the
Knoll the next day, and return to Boston, avoiding Albany
and those points of the country in which he would be most
exposed to detection. So many persons were joining the
American forces that were collecting about the besieged
town, that his journeying on the proper road would excite
no suspicion; and once in the American camp, nothing
would be easier than to find his way into the peninsula. AH
this young Willoughby felt no difficulty in being able to
accomplish, provided he could get into the settlements with
out being followed by information of his real character.
The period of spies, and of the severe exercise of martial -
law, was not yet reached ; and all that was apprehended
was detention. Of the last, however, there was great dan
ger ; positive certainty, indeed, in the event of discovery ;
and major Willoughby had gleaned enough during his visit,
to feel some apprehensions of being betrayed. He regretted
having brought his servant with him ; for the man was a
European, and by his dulness and speech might easily get
them both into difficulties. So serious, indeed, was this last
danger deemed by the father, that he insisted on Robert's
r.'artin^ without the man, leaving the last to follow, on the
first suitable occasion.

As soon as this point was settled, there arose the question
of the proper guide. Although he distrusted the Tuscarora,
12*

138 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

captain Willoughby, after much reflection, came to the
opinion that it would be safer to make an ally of him, than
to give him an opportunity of being employed by the other
side. Nick was sent for, and questioned. He promised to
take the major to the Hudson, at a point between Lunenburg
and Kinderhook, where he would be likely to cross the river
without awakening suspicion ; his own reward to depend on
his coming back to the Hutted Knoll with a letter from the
major, authorizing the father to pay him for his service?.
This plan, it was conceived, would keep Nick true to his
fait-h, for the time being, at least.

Many other points were discussed between the father and
son, the latter promising if anything of importance occurred,
to find the means of communicating it to his friends at the
Knoll, while Parrel was to follow his master, at the end of
six weeks or two months, with letters from the family.
Many of the captain's old army-friends were now in situa
tions of authority and command, and he sent to them mes
sages of prudence, and admonitions to be moderate in their
views, which subsequent events proved were little regarded.
To general Gage he even wrote, using the precaution not to
sign the letter, though its sentiments were so much in favour
of the colonies, that had it been intercepted, it is most pro
bable the Americans would have forwarded the missive to
its direction.

These matters arranged, the father and son parked for the
night, some time after the house-clock had struck the hour
of twelve.

TUB HUTTED KNOLL

CHAPTER IX.

Though old in cunning1, as in years,
He is so small, that like u child
In f.icc ;md lorm, the £od apj>ears,
And sportive like a boy, and wild ;
Lightly lie moves from place to place,
In none at rest, in none content;
Delighted sumo m-w toy to chase —
On childish purpose ever bent.
Beware ! to childhood's spirits gay
Is added more than childhood's power;
And you perchance may rue the hour
That saw you join his seeming play.

GRIFFIN.

THE intention of the major to quit the Knoll that day,
was announced to the family at breakfast, on the following
morning. His mother and Beulah heard this intelligence,
with a natural and affectionate concern, that they had no
scruples in avowing; but Maud sccnv-J to have so schooled
her feelings, that the grief she really felt was under a pru
dent control. To her, it appeared as if her secret were
constantly on the point of exposure, and she believed that
would cause her instant death. To survive its shame was
impossible in her eyes, and all the energies of her nature
were aroused, with the determination of burying her weak
ness in her own bosom. She had been so near revealing it
to Beulah, that even now she trembled as she thought of the
precipice over which she had been impending, strengthen
ing her resolution by the recollection of the danger she had
run.

As a matter of necessary caution, the intended movements
of the young man were kept a profound secret from all in
the settlement. Nick had disappeared in the course of the
night, rarrying with him the major's pack, having repaired
to a designated point on the stream, where he was to be
joined by his fellow-traveller at an hour named. There
were several forest-paths which led to the larger settlements.

140 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

That usually travelled was in the direction of old Fort Stan-
wix, first proceeding north, and then taking a south-eastern
direction, along the shores of the Mohawk. This was the
route by which the major had come. Another struck the
Otsego, and joined the Mohawk at the point more than once
mentioned in our opening chapters. As these were the two
ordinary paths — if paths they could be called, where few or
no traces of footsteps were visible — it was more than pro
bable any plan to arrest the traveller would be laid in re
ference to their courses. The major had consequently
resolved to avoid them both, and to strike boldly into the
mountains, until he should reach the Susquehanna, cross
that stream on its flood-wood, and finding one of its tributa
ries that flowed in from the eastward, by following its banks
to the high land, which divides the waters of the Mohawk
from this latter river, place himself on a route that would
obliquely traverse the water-courses, which, in this quarter
of the country, have all a general north or south direction.
Avoiding Schenectady and Albany, he might incline to
wards the old establishments of the descendants of the emi
grants from the Palatinate, on (he Schoharie, and reach the
Hudson at a point deemed safe for his purposes, through
some of the passes of the mountains in their vicinity. He
was to travel in the character of a land-owner who had
been visiting his patent, and his father supplied him with a
map and an old field-book, which would serve to corroborate
his assumed character, in the event of suspicion, or arrest.
Not much danger was apprehended, however, the quarrel
being yet too recent to admit of the organization and distrust
that subsequently produced so much vigilance and activity.

" You will contrive to let us hear of your safe arrival in
Boston, Bob," observed the father, as he sat stirring his tea,
in a thoughtful way — " I hope to God the matter will go no
farther, and that our apprehensions, after all, have given
this dark appearance to what has already happened."

" Ah, my dear father* you little know the state of the
country, through which I have so lately travelled !" an
swered the major, shaking his head. " An alarm of fire,
in an American town, would scarce create more movement,
and not so much excitement. The colonies are alive, parti
cularly those of New England, and a civil war is inevita-

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 141

ble; though I trust the power of England will render it
short."

"Then, Robert, do not trust yourself among the people
of New Kn^l.unr — cried the anxious mother. *' Go rather
to New York, where we have so many friends, and so much
influence. It will be far easier to reach New York than to
)•'•,•!< •!» Boston."

" That may be true, mother, but it will scarcely be as
creditable. My regiment is in Boston, and its enemies are
before Boston ; an old soldier like captain Willoughby will
tell you that the major is a very necessary officer to a corps.
No— no— my best course is to fall into the current of ad
venturers who are pushing towards Boston, and appear like
one of their number, until I can get an opportunity of steal
ing away from them, and join my own people."

" Have a care, Bob, that you do not commit a military
crime. Perhaps these provincial officers may take it into
their heads to treat you as a spy, should you fall into their
hands !"

" Little fear of that, sir; at present it is a sort of colonial
scramble for what they fancy liberty. That they will fight,
in their zeal, I know ; for I have seen it; but matters have
not at all gone as far as you appear to apprehend. I question
if thr-y would even stop Gage, himself, from going through
their camp, were he outside, and did he express a desire to
return."

" And yet you tell me, arms and ammunition are seized
all over the land ; that several old half-pay officers of the
king have been arrested, and put under a sort of parole !"

" Such things were talked of, certainly, though I question
if they have yet been done. Luckily for yourself, under
your present opinions at least, you are not on half-pay,
even."

" It is fortunate, Bob, though you mention it with a smile.
With my present feelings, I should indeed be sorry to be on
halt-pay, or quarter-pay, were there such a thing. I now
fcel myself my own master, at liberty to follow the dictates
of my conscience, and the suggestions of my judgment."

" Well, sir, you are a little fortunate, it must be acknow
ledged. I cannot see how any man can be at liberty to

142 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

throw off the allegiance he owes his natural sovereign.
What think you, Maud?"

This was said half in bitterness, half in jest, though the
nppeal at its close was uttered in a serious manner, and a
little anxiously. Maud hesitated, as if to muster her thoughts,
ere she replied.

" My feelings are against rebellion," she said, at length ;
" though I fear my reason tells me there is no such thing
as a natural sovereign. If the parliament had not given us
the present family, a century since, by what rule of nature
would it be our princes, Bob ?"

"Ah! these are some of the flights of your rich imagina-
tion, my dear — Maud ; it is parliament that has made them
our princes, and parliament, at least, is our legal, constitu
tional master."

" That is just the point in dispute. Parliament may be
the rightful governors of England, but are they the rightful
governors of America ?"

" Enough," said the captain, rising from table — " We
will not discuss such a "question, just as we are about to se
parate. Go, my son ; a duty that is to be performed, cannot
be done too soon. Your fowling-piece and ammunition are
ready for you, and I shall take care to circulate the report
that you have gone to pass an hour in the woods, in search
of pigeons. God bless you, Bob ; however we may differ
in this matter — you are my son — my only son — my dear
and well-beloved boy — God for ever bless you !"

A profound stillness succeeded this burst of nature, and
then the young man took his leave of his mother and the
girls. Mrs. Willoughby kissed her child. She did not even
weep, until she was in her room ; then, indeed, she went to
her knees, her tears, and her prayers. Beulah, all heart
and truth as she was, wept freely on her brother's neck ;
but Maud, though pale and trembling, received his kiss
without returning it ; though she could not help saying with
a meaning that the young man had in his mind all that day,
ay, and for many succeeding days — " be careful of your
self, and run into no unnecessary dangers ; God bless you,
dear, dear Bob."

Maud alone followed the movements of the gentlemen
with her eyes. The peculiar construction of the Hut pre-

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 143

vented external view from the south windows ; but there wag
a loop in a small painting-room of the garret that was espe
cially under her charge. Thither, then, bhe Hew, to ease
her nearly bursting heart with tears, and to watch the re
tiring footsteps of Robert. She saw him, accompanied by
his father and the chaplain, stroll leisurely down the lawn,
conversing and aifecting an indifferent manner, with a wish
to conceal his intent to depart. The glass of the loop was
open, to admit the air, and Maud strained her sense of hear
ing, in the desire to catch, if possible, another tone of his
voice. In this she was unsuccessful ; though he stopped
and gazed back at the Hut, as if to take a parting look.
Her father and Mr. Woods did not turn, and Maud thrust
her hand through the opening and waved her handkerchief.
" He will think it Beulah or I," she thought, " and it may
prove a consolation to him to know how much we love him."
The major saw the signal, and returned it. His father un
expectedly turned, and caught a glimpse of the retiring
hand, as it was disappearing within the loop. " That is
our precious Maud," he said, without other thought than of
her sisterly affection. "It is her painting-room ; Beulah's
is on the other side of the gate-way ; but the window does
not seem to be open."

The major started, kissed his hand fervently, five or six
times, and then he walked on. As if to change the conver
sation, he said hastily, and with a little want of connection
with what had just passed —

" Yes, sir, that gate, sure enough — have it hung, at once,
I do entreat of you. I shall not be easy until I hear that
both the gates are hung — that in the stockade, and that in
the house, itself.v

" It was my intention to commence to-day," returned the
father, " but your departure has prevented it. I will wait a
day or two, to let your mother and sisters tranquillize their
minds a little, before we besiege them with the noise and
clamour of the workmen."

"Better besiege them with that, my dear sir, than leave
them exposed to an Indian, or even a rebel attack."

The major then went on to give some of his more modern
military notions, touching the art of defence. As one of the
old school, he believed his father a miracle of skill ; but

144 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

what young man, who had enjoyed the advantages of ten
or fifteen years of the most recent training in any branch
of knowledge, ever believed the educations of those who
went before him beyond the attacks of criticism. The cap
tain listened patiently, and with an old man's tolerance for
inexperience, glad to have any diversion to unhappy
thoughts.

All this time Maud watched their movements from the
loop, with eyes streaming with tears. She saw Robert pause,
and look back, again and again ; and, once more, she thrust
out the handkerchief. It was plain, however, he did not see
it ; for he turned and proceeded, without any answering
signal.

" He never can know whether it was Beulah or I,"
thought Maud ; " yet, he may fancy we are both here."

On the rocks, that overhung the mills, the gentlemen
paused, and conversed for quite a quarter of an hour. The
distance prevented Maud from discerning their countenances;
but she could perceive the thoughtful, and as she fancied
melancholy, attitude of the major, as, leaning on his fowling-
piece, his iace was turned towards the Knoll, and his eyes
were really riveted on the loop. At the end of the time
mentioned, the young soldier shook hands hastily and co
vertly with his companions, hurried towards the path, and
descended out of sight, following the course of the stream.
Maud saw him no more, though her father and Mr. Woods
stood on the rocks quite half an hour longer, catching occa
sional glimpses of his form, as it came out of the shadows
of the forest, into the open space of the little river; and, in
deed, until the major was within a short distance of the
spot where he was to meet the Indian. Then they heard
the reports of both barrels of his fowling-piece, fired in quick
succession, the signals that he had joined his guide. This
welcome news received, the two gentlemen returned slowly
towards the house.

Such was the commencement of a day, which, while it
brought forth nothing alarming to the family of the Hutted
Knoll, was still pregnant with important consequences.
Major Willoughby disappeared from the sight of his father
about ten in the morning ; and before twelve, the settlement
was alive with the rumours of a fresh arrival. Joel knew

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 145

not whether to rejoice or to despair, as he saw a party of
eight or ten armed men rising above the rock, and holding
their course across the Hats towards the house. He enter
tained no doubt of its being a party sent by the provincial
authorities to arrest the captain, and he foresaw the proba
bility of another's being put into the lucrative station of
receiver of the estate, during the struggle which was in
perspective. It is surprising how many, and sometimes how
pure patriots are produced by just such hopes as those of
Joel's. At this day, there is scarce an instance of a confis
cated estate, during the American revolution, connected
with which racy traditions are not to be found, that tell of
treachery very similar to this contemplated by the overseer;
in some instances of treachery effected by means of kins
men and false friends.

Joel had actually got on his Sunday coat, and was making
his way towards the Knoll, in order to be present, at least,
at the anticipated scene, when, to his amazement, and some
what to his disappointment, he saw the captain and chaplain
moving down the lawn, in a manner to show that these un
expected arrivals brought not unwelcome guests. This
caused him to pause ; and when he perceived that the only
two among the strangers who had the air of gentlemen,
were met with cordial shakes of the hand, he turned back
towards his own tenement, a half-dissatisfied, and yet half-
contented man.

The visit which the captain had come out to receive, in
stead of producing any uneasiness in his family, was, in
truth, highly agreeable, and very opportune. It was Evert
Beekman, with an old friend, attended by a party of chain-
bearers, hunters, &c., on his way from the "Patent" he
owned in the neighbourhood — that is to say, within fifty
miles — and halting at the Hutted Knoll, under the courteous
pretence of paying his respects to the family, but, in reality,
to bring the suit he had now been making to Beufah for
quite a twelvemonth, to a successful termination.

The attachment between Evert Beekman and Beulah
Willoughby was of a character so simple, so sincere, and
so natural, as scarce to furnish materials for a brief episode.
The young man had not made his addresses without leave
obtained from the parents ; he had been acceptable to the

VOL. I. — 13

146 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

daughter from the commencement of their acquaintance ;
and she had only asked time to reflect, ere she gave her
answer, when he proposed, a day or two before the family
left New York.

To own the truth, Beulah was a little surprised that her
suitor had delayed his appearance till near the close of May,
when she had expected to see him at the beginning of the
month. A letter, however, was out of the question, since
there was no mode of transmitting it, unless the messenger
\vere sent expressly ; and the young man had now come in
person, to make his own apologies.

Beulah received Evert Beekman naturally, and without
the least exaggeration of manner, though a quiet happiness
beamed in her handsome face, that said as much as lover
could reasonably desire. Her parents welcomed him cor
dially, and the suitor must have been dull indeed, not to
anticipate all he hoped. Nor was it long before every
doubt was removed. The truthful, conscientious Beulah,
had well consulted her heart ; and, while she blushed at her
own temerity, she owned her attachment to her admirer.
The very day of his arrival they became formally betrothed.
As our tale, however, has but a secondary connection with
this little episode, we shall not dwell on it more than is ne
cessary to the principal object. It was a busy morning,
altogether ; and, though there were many tears, there were
also many smiles. By the time it was usual, at that bland
season,. for the family to assemble on the lawn, everything,
even to the day, was settled between Beulah and her lover,
and there was a little leisure to think of other things. It
was while the younger Pliny and one of the Smashes were
preparing the tea, that the following conversation was held,
being introduced by Mr. Woods, in the way of digressing
from feelings in which he was not quite as much interested
as some of the rest of the party.

" Do you bring us anything new from Boston ?" demand
ed the chaplain. " I have been dying to ask the question
these two hours — ever since dinner, in fact ; but, somehow,
Mr. Beekman, I have not been able to edge in an inquiry."

This was said good-naturedly, but quite innocently; elicit
ing smiles, blushes, and meaning glances in return. Evert
Beekman, however, looked grave before he made his reply.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 147

"To own the truth, Mr. Woods," ho said, "things are
getting to be very serious. Boston is surrounded by thoti-
Kimls of our people; and we hope, not only to keep tho
king's forces in tho Peninsula, but, in the end, to drive them
out of the colony/'

••This is a bold measure, Mr. Bookman! — a very bold
step to take against Cccsar !"

" Woods preached about the rights of Caesar, no later than
yesterday, you ought to know, Beekman," put in the laugh
ing captain; "and I am afraid he will be publicly praying
for the success of the British arms, before long."

" I did pray for the Royal Family," said the chaplain,
with spirit, " and hope I shall ever continue to do so."

" My dear fellow, I do not object to that. Pray for all
conditions of men, enemies and friends alike; and, particu
larly, pray for our princes ; but pray also to turn the hearts
of their advisers."

Beekman seemed uneasy. He belonged to a decidedly
whig family, and was himself, at the very moment, spoken
of as the colonel of one of the regiments about to be raised
in the colony of New York. lie held that rank in tho
militia, as it was; and no one doubted his disposition to re
sist the British forces, at the proper moment. He had even
stolen away from what he conceived to be very imperative
duties, to secure the woman of his heart before he went into
the field. His answer, in accordance, partook essentially
of the bias of his mind.

"I do not know, sir, that it is quite wise to pray so very
willingly for the Royal Family," he said. " We may wish
them worldly happiness, and spiritual consolation, as part of
the human race ; but political and specific prayers, in times
like these, are to be used with caution. Men attach more
than the common religious notion, just now, to prayers for
the kin^, which some interpret into direct petitions against
the United Colonies."

" \VelI," rejoined the captain, " I cannot agree to this,
myself. If there were a prayer to confound parliament and
its counsels, I should be very apt to join in it cordially ; but
I am not yet ready to throw aside king, queen, princes and
princesses, all in a lump, on account of a few taxes, and a
little tea."

148 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" I am sorry to hear this from you, sir," answered Evert.
" When your opinions were canvassed lately at Albany, 1
gave a sort of pledge that you were certainly more with ug
than against us."

" Well then, I think, Beekman, you drew me in my true
outlines. In the main, I think the colonies right, though I
am still willing to pray for the king."

" I am one of those, captain Willoughby, who look for
ward to the most serious times. The feeling throughout tho
colonies is tremendous, and the disposition on the part of
the royal officers is to meet the crisis with force."

" You have a brother a captain of foot in one of the regi
ments of the crown, colonel Beekman — what are his views
in this serious state of affairs?"

"He has already thrown up his commission — refusing
even to sell out, a privilege that was afforded him. His
name is now before congress for a majority in one of the
new regiments that are to be raised."

The captain looked grave ; Mrs. Willoughby anxious ;
Beulah interested ; and Maud thoughtful.

" This has a serious aspect, truly," observed the first.
" When men abandon all their early hopes, to assume new
duties, there must be a deep and engrossing cause. I had
not thought it like to come to this !"

" We have had hopes major Willoughby might do the
same ; I know that a regiment is at his disposal, if he be
disposed to join us. No one would be more gladly received.
We are to have Gates, Montgomery, Lee, and many other
old officers, from regular corps, on our side."

" Will colonel Lee be put at the head of the American
forces?"

" I think not, sir. He has a high reputation, and a good
deal of experience, but he is a humourist ; and what is some
thing, though you will pardon it, he is not an American
bom."

" It is quite right to consult such considerations, Beek
man ; were I in congress, they would influence me, English
man as I am, and in many things must always remain."

" I am glad to hear you say that, Willoughby," exclaimed
the chaplain — " right down rejoiced to hear you say so ! A

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 149

man is bound to stand by his birth-place, through thick and
thin."

" How do you, then, reconcile your opinions, in this
matter, to your birth-place, Woods?" asked the laughing
captain.

To own tho truth, the chaplain was a little confused. He
had entered into the controversy with so much zeal, of late,
as to have imbibed the feelings of a thorough partisan; and,
as is usual with such philosophers, was beginning to over
look everything that made against his opinions, and to
exaggerate everything that sustained them.

" How ?" — he cried, with zeal, if not with consistency—
"Why, well enough. I am an Englishman too, in the
general view of the case, though born in Massachusetts. < )f
English descent, and an English subject."

" Umph ! — Then Beekman, here, who is of Dutch de
scent, is not bound by the same principles as we are our
selves?"

" Not by the same feelings, possibly ; but, surely, by
the same principles. Colonel Beekman is an Englishman
by construction, and you are by birth. Yes, I 'm what may
be called a constructive Englishman."

Even Mrs. Willoughby and Beulah laughed at this, though
not a smile had crossed Maud's face, since her eye had lost
Robert Willoughby from view. The captain's ideas seemed
to take a new direction, and he was silent some little time
before he spoke.

" Under the circumstances in which we are now placed,
as respects each other, Mr. Beekman," he said, " it is pro
per that there should be no concealments on grave points.
Had you arrived an hour or two earlier, you would have
met a face well known to you, in that of my son, major
Willoughby."

" Major Willoughby, my dear sir!" exclaimed Beekman,
with a start of unpleasant surprise ; " I had supposed him
with the royal army, in Boston. You say he has left the
Knoll — I sincerely hope not for Albany."

M \.» — I wished him to go in that direction, at first, and
to see you, in particular; but his representations of the state
of the country induced me to change my mind ; he travels
by a private way, avoiding all the towns of note, or size."
13*

150 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" In that he has done well, sir. Near to me as a brother
of Beulah's must always seem, I should be sorry to see Bob,
just at this moment. If there be no hope of getting him to
join us, the farther we are separated the better."

This was said gravely, and it caused all who heard it
fully to appreciate the serious character of a quarrel that
threatened to arm brother against brother. As if by com
mon consent, the discourse changed, all appearing anxious,
at a moment otherwise so happy, to obliterate impressions
so unpleasant from their thoughts.

The captain, his wife, Beulah and the colonel, had several
long and private communications in the course of the even
ing. Maud was not sorry to be left to herself, and the
chaplain devoted his time to the entertainment of the friend
of Beekman, who was in truth a surveyor, brought along
partly to preserve appearances, and partly for service. The
chain-bearers, hunters, &c., had been distributed in the
different cabins of the settlement, immediately on the arrival
of the party.

That night, when the sisters retired, Maud perceived that
Beulah had something to communicate, out of the common
way. Still, she did not know whether it would be proper
for her to make any inquiries, and things were permitted to
take their natural course. At length Beulah, in her gentle
way, remarked —

" It is a fearful thing, Maud, for a woman to take upon
herself the new duties, obligations and ties of a wife."

" She should not do it, Beulah, unless she feels a love for
the man of her choice, that will sustain her in them. You,
who have real parents living, ought to feel this fully, as I
doubt not you do."

" Real parents ! Maud, you frighten me ! Are not my
parents yours 1 — Is not all our love common ?"

" I am ashamed of myself, Beulah. Dearer and better
parents than mine, no girl ever had. I am ashamed of my
words, and beg you will forget them."

" That I shall be very ready to do. It was a great con
solation to think that should I be compelled to quit home,
as compelled I must be in the end, I should leave with my
father and mother a child as dutiful, and one that lovea
them as sincerely as yourself, Maud."

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 151

" You have thought right, Beulah. I do love them to my
heart's core ! Then you arc right in another sense ; for I
shall never marry. My mind is made up to that."

" Well, dear, many are happy that never marry — many
women aiv happier than those that do. Evert has a kind,
manly, ailectionate heart, and I know will do all he can to
prevent my regretting home; but we can never have more
than one mother, Maud !"

Maud did not answer, though she looked surprised that
Deulah should say this to her.

" Evert has reasoned and talked so much to my father
and mother," continued the Jiancce, blushing, " that they
have thought we had better be married at once. Do you
know, Maud, that it has been settled this evening, that the
ceremony is to take place to-morrow !"

" This is sudden, indeed, Beulah ! Why have they deter
mined on so unexpected a thing ?"

" It is all owing to the state of the country. I know not
how he has done it — but Evert has persuaded my father,
that the sooner I am his wife, the more secure we shall all
be, here at the Knoll."

" I hope you love Svert Beekman, dearest, dearest Beu
lah r

" What a question, Maud ! Do you suppose I could stand
up before a minister of God, and plight my faith to a man
I did not love? — Why have you seemed to doubt it?"

" I do not doubt it — I am very foolish, for I know you
are conscientious as the saints in heaven — and yet, Beulah,
I think / could scarce be so tranquil about one I loved."

The gentle Beulah smiled, but she no longer felt uneasi
ness. She understood the impulses and sentiments of her
own pure but tranquil nature too well, to distrust herself;
and she could easily imagine that Maud would not be as
composed under similar circumstances.

" Perhaps it is well, sister of mine," she answered laugh
ing, though blushing, " that you are so resolved to remain,
single; for one hardly knows where to find a suitor suffi
ciently devoted and ethereal for your taste. No one pleased
you last winter, though the least encouragement would havo
brought a dozen to your feet ; and here there is no one you
can possibly have, unless it be dear, good, old Mr. Woods."

152 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

Maud compressed her lips, and really looked stern, so
determined was she to command herself; then she answered
somewhat in her sister's vein —

" It is very true," she said, " there is no hero for me to
accept, unless it be dear Mr. Woods ; and he, poor man, has
had one wife that cured him of any desire to possess another,
they say."

" Mr. Woods ! I never knew that he was married. Who
can have told you this, Maud 1"

" I got it from Robert" — answered the other, hesitating a
little. " He was talking one day of such things."

"What things, dear?'

" Why — of getting married — I believe it was about mar
rying relatives — or connections — or, some such thing ; for
Mr. Woods married a cousin-german, it would seem — and
so he told me all about it. Bob was old enough to know
his wife, when she died. Poor man, she led him a hard
life — he must be far from the Knoll, by this time, Beulah !"

" Mr. Woods ! — I left him with papa, a few minutes since,
talking over the ceremony for to-morrow !"

" I meant Bob "

Here the sisters caught each other's eyes, and both blush
ed, consciousness presenting to them, at the same instant,
the images that were uppermost in their respective minds.
But, no more was said. They continued their employments
in silence, and soon each was kneeling in prayer.

The following day, Evert Beekman and Beulah Willough-
by were married. The ceremony took place, immediately
after breakfast, in the little chapel ; no one being present
but the relatives, and Michael O'Hearn, who quieted his
conscience for not worshipping with the rest of the people,
by acting as their sexton. The honest county Leitrim-man
was let into the secret — as a great secret, however — at early
dawn ; and he had the place swept and in order in good
season, appearing in his Sunday attire to do honour to the
occasion, as he thought became him.

A mother as tender as Mrs. Willoughby, could not resign
the first claim on her child, without indulging her tears.
Maud wept, too ; but it was as much in sympathy for Beu-
lah's happiness, as from any other cause. The marriage,
in other respects, was simple, and without any ostentatious

J

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 153

manifestations of feeling. It was, in truth, one of those
rational and wise connections, which promise to wear well,
there being a perfect fitness, in station, wealth, connections,
years, manners and habits, between the parties. Violence
was done to nothing, in bringing this discreet and, well-
principled couple together. Evert was as worthy of Beulah,
as she was worthy of him. There was confidence in the
future, on every side ; and not a doubt, or a misgiving of
any sort, mingled with the regrets, if regrets they could bo
called, that were, in some measure, inseparable from the
solemn ceremony.

The marriage was completed, the affectionate father had
held the weeping but smiling bride on his bosom, the tender
mother hud folded her to her heart, Maud had pressed her
in her arms in a fervent embrace, and the chaplain had
claimed his kiss, when the well-meaning sexton ap
proached.

" Is it the likes of yees I wish well to !" said Mike — " Ye
may well say that; and to yer husband, and childer, and
all that will go before, and all that have come afther ye ! I
know'd ye, when ye was mighty little, and that was years
agone ; and niver have I seen a cross look on yer prctthy
face. I 've app'inted to myself, many's the time, a consait
to tell ye all this, by wor-r-d of mouth ; but the likes of
yees, and of the Missus, and of Miss M;iud there — och !
isn't she a swate one ! and many's the pity, there's no sich
tall, handsome jontleman to take her, in the bargain, bad
luck to him for staying away ; and so God bless ye, all,
praist in the barga;n, though he's no praist at all; arid
there 's my good wishes said and done."

154 THE HUTTED KNOLL

CHAPTER X.

Ho ! Princes of Jacob! the strength and the stay

Oi' the daughters of Zion ; — now up, and away ;

Lo, the hunters have struck her, and bleeding alone

Like a pard in Ihe desert she rnaketh her moan :

Up with war-horse and banner, with spear and with sword,

On the spoiler go down in the might of the Lord !

LtJNT.

THE succeeding fortnight, or three weeks, brought no
material changes, beyond those connected with the progress
of the season. Vegetation was out in its richest luxuriance,
the rows of corn and potatoes, freshly hoed, were ornament
ing the flats, the wheat and other grains were throwing up
their heads, and the meadows were beginning to exchange
their flowers for the seed. As for the forest, it had now
veiled its mysteries beneath broad curtains of a green so
bright and lively, that one can only meet it, beneatli a ge
nerous sun, tempered by genial rains, and a mountain air.
The chain-bearers, and other companions of Beekman,
quitted the valley the day after the wedding, leaving no one
of their party behind but its principal.

The absence of the major was not noted by Joel and
his set, in the excitement of receiving so many guests, and
in the movement of the wedding. But, as soon as the fact
was ascertained, the overseer and miller made the pretence
of a ' slack-time' in their work, and obtained permission to
go to Ihe Mohawk, on private concerns of their own. Such
journeys were sufficiently common to obviate suspicion ;
and, the leave had, the two conspirators started off, in com
pany, the morning of the second day, or forty-eight hours
after the major and Nick had disappeared. As the latter
was known to have come in by the Fort Stanwix route, it
was naturally enough supposed that he had returned by the
same ; and Joel determined to head him on the Mohawk, at
some point near Schenectady, where he might make a merit
of his cwn patriotism, by betraying the son of his master.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. !•"»')

The reader is not to suppose Joel intended to do all this
openly ; so far from it, his plan was to keep himself in tho
back-ground, while he attracted attention to the supposed
toryism of the captain, and illustrated his own attachment
to the colonies.

It is scarcely necessary to say that this plan failed, in
consequence of the new path taken by Nick. At the very
moment when Joel and the miller were lounging about a
Dutch inn, some fifteen or twenty miles above Schenectady,
in waiting for the travellers to descend the valley of tho
Mohawk, Robert Willoughby and his guide were actually
crossing the Hudson, in momentary security at least. After
remaining at his post until satisfied his intended prey had
escaped him, Joel, with his friend, returned to the settle
ment. Still, the opportunity had been improved, to mako
himself better acquainted with the real state of the country;
to open communications with certain patriots of a moral
calibre about equal to his own, but of greater influence; to
throw out divers injurious hints, and secret insinuations con
cerning the captain ; and to speculate on the propriety of
leaving so important a person to work his will, at a time so
critical. But the pear was not yet ripe, and all that could
now be done was to clear the way a little for something im
portant in future.

In the meantime, Evert Bookman having secured his
gentle and true-hearted wife, began, though with a heavy
heart, to bethink him of his great political duties. It was
well understood that he was to have a regiment of the new
levies, and Beulah had schooled her affectionate heart to a
degree that permitted her to part with him, in such a cause,
with seeming resignation. It was, sooth to say, a curious
spectacle, to see how these two sisters bent all their thoughts
and wishes, in matters of a public nature, to favour the en
grossing sentiments of their sex and natures; Maud being
strongly disposed to sustain the royal cause, and the bride
to support that in which her husband had enlisted, heart
and hand.

As for captain Willoughby, he said little on the subject
of politics ; but the marriage of Beulah had a powerful in
fluence in confirming his mind in the direction it had taken
after the memorable argument with the chaplain. Colonel

156 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

Bcekman was a man of strong good sense, though without
the least brilliancy ; and his arguments were all so clear
and practical, as to carry with them far more weight than
was usual in the violent partisan discussions of the period.
Beulah fancied him a Solon in sagacity, and a Bacon in
wisdom. Her father, without proceeding quite as far as this,
was well pleased with his cool discriminating judgment, and
much disposed to defer to his opinions. The chaplain was
left out of the discussions as incorrigible.

The middle of June was passed, at the time colonel Beek-
man began to think of tearing himself from his wife, in
order to return into the active scenes of preparation he had
quitted, to make this visit. As usual, the family frequented
the lawn, at the close of the day, the circumstance of most
of the windows of the Hut looking on the court, rendering
this resort to the open air more agreeable than might other
wise have been the case. Evert was undecided whether to
go the following morning, or to remain a day longer, when
the lawn was thus occupied, on the evening of the 25th of
the month, Mrs. Willoughby making the tea, as usual, her
daughters sitting near her, sewing, and the gentlemen at
hand, discussing the virtues of different sorts of seed-corn.

" There is a stranger !" suddenly exclaimed the chaplain,
looking towards the rocks near the mill, the point at which
all arrivals in the valley were first seen from the Hut. " He
comes, too, like a man in haste, whatever may be his er
rand."

" God be praised," returned the captain rising ; " it is
Nick, on his usual trot, and this is about the time he sho Ad
be back, the bearer of good news. A week earlier might
have augured better ; but this will do. The fellow moves
over the ground as if he really had something to communi
cate !"

Mrs. Willoughby and her daughters suspended their avo-
cations, and the gentlemen stood, in silent expectation,
watching the long, loping strides of the Tuscarora, as he
came rapidly across the plain. In a few minutes the Indian
came upon the lawn, perfectly in wind, moving with deli
beration and gravity, as he drew nearer to the party. Cap
tain Willoughby, knowing his man, waited quite another

TIIE IIUTTED KNOLL. 157

minute, after the red-mail was leaning against an apple-tree,
be lo re he questioned him.

" Welcome back, Nick," he then said. " Where did you
leave my a

" He tell dere," answered the Indian, presenting a note,
which the captain read.

" This is all right, Nick ; and it shows you have been a
true man. Your wages shall be paid to-night. But, this
letter has been written on the eastern bank of the Hudson,
and is quite three weeks old — why have we not seen you,
soon , •

"t'an't see, when he don't come."

" That is plain enough ; but why have you not come back
sooner '.' That is my question."

" Want to look at country — went to shore of Great Salt
Lake."

" Oh ! — Curiosity, then, has been at the bottom of your
absence ?"

'• Nick warrior — no squaw — got no cur'osity."

M No, no — I beg your pardon, Nick ; I did not mean to
accuse you of so womanish a feeling. Far from it ; I know
you are a man. Tell us, however, how far, and whither
you went ?"

11 Bos'on," answered Nick, sententiously.

•• Huston ! That has been a journey, indeed. Surely my
son did not allow you to travel in his company through
Massachusetts?"

"Nick go alone. Two path; one for major; one for
Tuscarora. Nick got dcre first."

" That I can believe, if you were in earnest. Were you
not questioned by the way ?"

" Yes. Tell 'em I 'm Stockbridge — pale- face know no
belter. T'ink he fox; more like wood-chuck."

"Thank you, Nick, for the compliment. Had my son
<1 Boston before you came away .'"

11 H'-rc he be" — answered the Indian, producing another
i:ii>>ive, from the folds of his calico shirt.

The captain received the note which lie read with' extreme
gravity, and some surprise.

" This is in Bob's hand-writing," he said, " and is dated

VOL. I.— 14

158 THE HUTTED- KNOLL.

* Boston, June 18th, 1775;' but it is without signature, and
is not only Bob, but Bob Short."

" Read, dear Willoughby," exclaimed the anxious mo
ther. " News from him, concerns us all."

" News, Wilhelmina ! — They may call this news in Bos
ton, but one is very little the better for it at the Hutted Knoll.
However, such as it is, there is no reason for keeping it a
secret, while there is one reason, at least, why it should be
known. This is all. ' My dearest sir — Thank God I am
unharmed ; but we have had much to make us reflect ; you
know what duty rcquires-^-my best and endless love to my
mother, and Beulah — and dear, laughing, capricious, pretty
Maud. Nick was present, and can tell you all. I do not
think he will " extenuate, or aught set down in malice." '
And this without direction, or signature ; with nothing, in
fact, but place and date. What say you to all this, Nick?"

" He very good — major dere ; he know. Nick dere — hot
time — a t'ousand scalp — coat red as blood."

" There has been another battle !" exclaimed the captain ;
" that is too plain to admit of dispute. Speak out at once,
Nick — which gained the day ; the British or the Ameri
cans?"

" Hard to tell — one fight, t'other fight. Red-coat take do
ground ; Yankee kill. If Yankee could take scalp of all he
kill, he whip. But, poor warriors at takin' scalp. No know
how."

" Upon my word, Woods, there does seem to be some
thing in all this ! It can hardly be possible that the Ameri
cans would dare to attack Boston, defended as it is, by a
strong army of British regulars."

" That would they not," cried the chaplain, with em
phasis. " This has been only another skirmish."

" What you call skirmge?" asked Nick, pointedly. " It
skirmge to take, t'ousand scalp, ha ?"

" Tell us what has happened, Tuscarora?" said the cap
tain, motioning his friend to be silent.

" Soon tell — soon done. Yankee on hill ; reg'lar in canoe.
Hundred, t'ousand, fifty canoe — full of red-coat. Great
chief, dere ! — ten — six — two — all go togeder. Come ashore
— parade, pale-face manner — march — booh — booh--dem
cannon ; pop, pop — dem gun. Wah ! how he run "*

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 159

"Run! — who ran, Nick? — Though I suppose it must
have been the poor Americans, of course."

" Red-coat run," nnsuvivii the Indian, quietly.

This reply produced a general sensation, even the ladies
starting, and ^a/in^ at each other.

*• Ili-d-ruut rim" — repeated the captain, slowly. "Goon
with your history, Nick — where was this battle fought?"

" T'other Bos'on— over river — go in canoe to fight, liko
Injin from Canada."

" That must have been in Charlestown, Woods—you may
remember Boston is on one peninsula, and Charlestown on
another. Still, I do not recollect that the Americans wcro
in the latter, Beckman — you told me nothing of that .'"

" They were not so near the royal forces, certainly, when
I left Albany, sir," returned the colonel. " A few direct
questions to the Indian, however, would brino- out the whole
truth."

" We must proceed more methodically. How many
Yankees were in this fight, Nick ? — Calculate as we used
to, in the French war."

" Reach from here to mill — t'ree, two deep, cap'in. All
farmer; no sodger. Carry gun, but no carry baggonet ;
no carry knapsack. No wear red-coat. Look like town-
meetin' ; fight like devils."

" A line as long as from this to the mill, three deep, would
contain about two thousand men, Beekman. Is that what
you wish to say, Nick ?"

" That about him — pretty near— just so."

" Well, then, there were about two thousand Yankees on
this hill — how many king's troops crossed in the canoes, to
go against them'?"

"Two time — one time, so many; t'other time, half so
many. Nick close by ; count him"

" That would make three thousand in all ! By Geor^r,
this does look like work. Did they all go together, Nick"?"

" No ; one time go first ; fight, run away. Den two time
go, fight good deal — run away, too. Den try harder — set
fire to wigwam — go up hill ; Yankee run a\\

" This is plain enough, and quite graphical. Wigwam on
fire? Charlestown is not burnt, Ni

" Dat he — Look like old Council Fire, gone out. Big

160 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

canoe fire — booh — booh — Nick nebber see such war before
— wah ! Dead man plenty as leaves on tree ; blood run
like creek !"

" Were you in this battle, Nick 1 How came you to learn
so much about it?"

"Don't want to be in it — better out — no scalp taken.
Red-man not'iri' to do, dere. How know about him ? — See
him — dat all. Got eye; why no see him, behind stone
wall. Good see, behind stone wall."

" Were you across the water yourself, or did you remain
in Boston, and see from a distance?"

" Across in canoe — tell red-coat, general send letter by
Nick — major say, he my friend — let Nick go."

" My son was in this bloody battle, then !" said Mrs.
Willoughby. " He writes, Hugh, that he is safe?"

" He does, dearest Wilhelmina ; and Bob knows us too
well, to attempt deception, in such a matter."

"Did you see the major in the field, Nick — after you
crossed the water, I mean ?"

" See him, all. Six — two — seven t'ousand. Close by ;
why not see major stand up like pine — no dodge he head,
dere. Kill all round him — no hurt him! Fool to stay dere —
tell him so ; but he no come away. Save he scalp, too."

" And how many slain do you suppose there might have
been left on the ground — or, did you not remain to see ?"

" Did see — stay to get gun — knapsack — oder good t'ing — •
plenty about ; pick him up, fast as want him." Here Nick
coolly opened a small bundle, and exhibited an epaulette,
several rings, a watch, five or six pairs of silver buckles,
and divers other articles of plunder, of which he had man
aged to strip the dead. " All good t'ing — plenty as stone —
have him widout askin'."

" So I see, Master Nick — and is this the plunder of Eng
lishmen, or of Americans?"

" Red-coat nearest — got most t'ing, too. Go farder, fare
worse ; as pale-face say."

" Quite satisfactory. Were there more red-coats left on
the ground, or more Americans ?"

" Red-coat so," said Nick, holding up four fingers —
" Yankee, so';" holding up one. Take big grave to hold
red-coat. Small grave won't hold Yankee. Hear what he

THE HUTTED KNOLL- 161

count ; most red-coat. More than thousand warrior ! Bri
tish groan, like s.jti;i\v dat ioso her liunter."

Such was Saucy Nick's description of the celebrated,
and, in soin-* particulars, unrivalled combat of Hunker Hill,
of \vhirh lit- had actually Uvn an rye-witni-ss, on the ground,
though usiniT thf precaution to keep his body well covered,
ltd not think it necessary to state the fact that he had
glvm the coup-de-grace, himself, to the owner of the epau
lette, nor did he deem it essential to furnish all the particu
lars of his mode of obtaining so many buckles. In other
respects, his account was fair enough, " nothing extenuating,
or setting down aught in malice." The auditors had listened
with intense feeling ; and .Maud, when the allusion was made
to Robert Willoughby, buried her pallid face in her hands,
and wept. As for Bculuh, time and again, she glanced
anxiously at her husband, and bethought her of*the danger
to which he might so soon be exposed.

The receipt of this important intelligence confirmed Beek-
man in the intention to depart. The very next morning he
tore himself away from Beulah, and proceeded to Albany.
The appointment of Washington, and a long list of other
officers, soon succeeded, including his own as a colonel ;
and the war may be said to have commenced systematically.
Its distant din occasionally reached the Hutted Knoll ; but
the summer passed away, bringing with it no event to affect
the tranquillity of that settlement. Even Joel's schemes were
thwarted for a time, and he was fain to continue to wear the
mask, and to gather that harvest for another, which he had
hoped to reap for his own benefit.

Beulah had all a young wife's fears for her husband ; but,
as month succeeded month, and one affair followed another,
without bringing him harm, she began to submit to the
anxieties inseparable from her situation, with less of self-
torment, and more of reason. Her mother and Maud were
invaluable friends to her, in this novel and trying situation,
though each had her own engrossing cares on account of
Robert Willoughby. As no other great battle, however,
occurred in the course of the year '75, Bcckman remained
in sat«-ty with the troops that invested Boston, and the major
with the army within it. Neither was much exposed, and
14*

162 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

glad enough were these gentle affectionate hearts, when they
learned that the sea separated the combatants.

This did not occur, however, until another winter was
passed. In November, the family left the Hut, as had been
its practice of late years, and went out into the more inha
bited districts to pass the winter. This time it came only to
Albany, where colonel Beekman joined it, passing a few
happy weeks with his well-beloved Beulah. The ancient
town mentioned was not gay at a moment like that ; but it
had many young officers in it, on the American side of the
question, who were willing enough to make themselves ac
ceptable to Maud. The captain was not sorry to see several
of these youths manifesting assiduity about her he had so
long been accustomed to consider as his youngest daughter ;
for, by this time, his opinions had taken so strong a bias in
favour of the rights of the colonies, that Beekman himself
scarce rejoiced more whenever he heard of any little success
alighting on the American arms.

" It will all come right in the end," the worthy captain
used to assure his friend the chaplain. " They will open
their eyes at home, ere long, and the injustice of taxing the
colonies will be admitted. Then all will come round again ;
the king will be as much beloved as ever, and England and
America will be all the better friends for having a mutual
respect. I know my countrymen well ; they mean right,
and will do right, as soon as their stomachs are a little
lowered, and they come to look at the truth, coolly. I 'II
answer for it, the Battle of Bunker's Hill made ws" — the
captain had spoken in this way, now, for some months — •
" made us a thousand advocates, where we had one before.
This is the nature of John Bull ; give him reason to respect
you, and he will soon do you justice; but give him reason
to feel otherwise, and he becomes a careless, if not a hard
master."

Such were the opinions captain Willoughby entertained
of his native land ; a land he had not seen in thirty years,
and one in which he had so recently inherited unexpected
honours, without awakening a desire to return and enjoy
them. His opinions were right in part, certainly ; for they
depended on a law of nature, while it is not improbable they
were wrong in all that was connected with the notions of

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 103

any peculiarly manly quality, in any particular part of
Christendom. No maxim is truer than that which teaches
us ** like causes produce like •• ad a-; human l>eings

are governed by very similar laws all over the (ace of this
round world of ours, nothing is more certain than the simi
larity of their propensities.

Maud had no smiles, beyond those extracted by her natu
rally sweet disposition, and a very prevalent desire to oblige,
for any of the young soldiers, or youn^ civilians, who
crowded about her chair, during the Albany winter men
tioned. Two or three of colonel Beekman's military friends,
in particular, would very gladly have become com;
with an officer so much respected, through means E
ceedingly agreeable; but no encouragement emboldened
either to go beyond the attention and assiduities of a marked
politeness.

" I know not how it is," observed Mrs. Willoughby, one
day, in a t&te-a-ttte with her husband ; " Maud seems to
take less pleasure than is usual with girls of her years, in the
attentions of your sex. That her heart is affectionate —
warm — even tender, I am very certain ; and yet no sign of
preference, partiality, or weakness, in favour of any of these
fine young men, of whom we see so many, can I discover
in the child. They all seem alike to her !"

" Her time will corne, as it happened to her mother before
her," answered the captain. " Whooping-cough and measles
are not more certain to befall children, than love to befall a
young woman. You were all made for it, my dear Willy,
and no fear but the girl will catch the disease, one of these
and that, too, without any inoculation."

" I am sure, I have no wish to separate from my child" —
so Mrs. Willoughby always spoke of, and so she always
felt towards Maud — " I am sure, I have no wish to separate
from my child ; but as we cannot always remain, it is per
haps better this one should rnarry, like the other. Th
young Vcrplanck much devoted to her; he is everyway ,1
suitable match ; and then he is in Evert's own regiment."'

M Ay, he would do; though to my fancy Luke Herring is
the far better match."

"That is bccaiK-- h" is richer and more powerful, Iluoh
—you men cannot think of a daughter's establishment, with-

164 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

out immediately dragging in houses and lands, as part of
the ceremony."

" By George, wife of mine, houses and lands in modera
tion, are very good sweeteners of matrimony !"

" And yet, Hugh, I have been very happy as a wife, nor
have you been very miserable as a husband, without any
excess of riches to sweeten the state !" answered Mrs. WiU
loughby," reproachfully. " Had you been a full general, I
could not have loved you more than I have done as a mere
captain."

" All very true, Wilhelmina, dearest," returned the hus
band, kissing the faithful partner of his bosom with strong
affection — " very true, my dear girl ; for girl you are and
ever will be in my eyes ; but you are one in a million, and
I humbly trust there are not ten hundred and one, in every
thousand, just like myself. For my part, I wish dear, saucy,
capricious little Maud, no worse luck in a husband, than
Luke Herring."

" She will never be his wife ; I know her, and my own
sex, too well to think it. You are wrong, however, Wil-
loughby, in applying such terms to the child. Maud is not
in the least capricious, especially in her affections. See with
what truth and faithfulness of sisterly attachment she clings
to Bob. I do declare I am often ashamed to feel that even
his own mother has less solicitude about him than this dear
girl."

" Pooh, Willy ; don't be afflicted with the idea that you
don't make yourself sufficiently miserable about the boy.
Bob will do well enough, and will very likely come out of
this affair a lieutenant-colonel. I may live yet to see him a
general officer ; certainly, if I live to be as old as my grand
father, Sir Thomas. As for Maud, she finds Beulah uneasy
about Bcekman ; and having no husband hers-ejf, or any
lover that she'cares a straw about, why she just falls upon
Bob as a pis oilier. I '11 warrant you she cares no more for
him than any of the rest of us — than myself, for instance;
though as an old soldier, I don't scream every time I fancy
a gun fired over yonder at Boston."

" I wish it were well over. It is so unnatural for Ever!
and Robert to be on opposite sides."

" Yes, it is out of the common way, I admit ; and yet

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 1G5

'twill all come round, in the long run. This Mr. Washington
is a clever lellou, ami seems to play his cards with spirit
and judgment, He \sa- with us, in that awkward affair of
Braddock'fl ; and between you and me, Wilhelmina, he co-
veivd the regulars, or we should all have laid our bonos on
that accursed field. I wrote you at the time, what I thought
of him, and now you see it is all coming to pass."

It was one of the captain's foibles to believe himself a
political prophet ; and, as he had really both written and
spoken highly of Washington, at the time mentioned, it had
no small influence on his opinions to find himself acting on
the same side with this admired favourite. Prophecies often
produce their own fulfilment, in cases of much greater gra
vity than this; and it is not surprising that our captain
found himself strengthened in his notions by the circum
stance.

The winter passed away without any of Maud's suitors
making a visible impression on her heart. In March,
the English evacuated Boston, Robert Willoughby sailing
with his regiment for Halifax, and thence with the expedi
tion against Charleston, under Sir Henry Clinton. Tho
next month, the family returned to the Knoll, where it was
thought wiser, and even safer to be, at a moment so critical,
than even in a more frequented place. The war proceeded,
and, to the captain's great regret, without any very visible
approaches towards the reconciliation he had so confidently
anticipated. This rather checked his warmth in favour of
the colonial cause; for, an Englishman by birth, he was
much opposed at bottom to anything like a dissolution of
the tie that connected America with the mother country ; a
political event that now began seriously to be talked of
among the initiated.

Desirous of thinking as little as possible of disagreeable
things, the worthy owner of the valley busied himself with
his crops, his mills, and his improvements. He had intended
to commence leasing his wild lands about this time, and to
begin a more extended settlement, with an eye to futurity ;
but the state of the country forbade the execution of the.
project, and he was fain to limit his efforts by their former
boundaries. The geographical position of the valley put it
beyond any of the ordinary exactions of military service j

106 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

and, as there was a little doubt thrown around its owner's
opinions, partly in consequence of his son's present and his
own previous connection with the royal army, and partly
on account of Joel's secret machinations, the authorities
were well content to let the settlement alone, provided it
would take care of itself. Notwithstanding the prominent
patriotism of Joel Strides and the miller, they were well
satisfied, themselves, with this state of things ; preferring
peace and quietness to the more stirring scenes of war.
Their schemes, moreover, had met with somewhat of a
check, in the feeling of the population of the valley, which,
on an occasion calculated to put their attachment to its
owner to the proof, had rather shown that they remembered
his justice, liberality, and upright conduct, more than exactly
comported with their longings. This manifestation of re
spect was shown at an election for a representative in a
local convention, in which every individual at the Hutted
Knoll, who had a voice at all, the two conspirators excepted,
had given it in favour of the captain. So decided was this
expression of feeling, indeed, that it compelled Joel and the
miller to chime in with the cry of the hour, and to vote
contrary to their own wishes.

One, dwelling at the Hutted Knoll, in the summer of 1776,
could never have imagined that he was a resident of a coun
try convulsed by a revolution, and disfigured by war. There,
everything seemed peaceful and calm, the woods sighing
with the airs of their sublime solitude, the genial sun shed
ding its heats on a grateful and generous soil, vegetation
ripening and yielding with all the abundance of a bountiful
nature, as in the more tranquil days of peace and hope.

" There is something frightful in the calm of this valley,
Beulah !" exclaimed Maud one Sunday, as she and her sister
looked out cf the library window amid the breathing stillness
of the forest, listening to the melancholy sound of the bell
that summoned them to prayers. " There is a frightful
calm over this place, at an hour when we know that strife
and bloodshed are so active in the country. Oh ! that the
hateful congress had never thought of making this war!"

" Evert writes me all is well, Maud ; that the times will
lead to good ; the people are right ; and America will now

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 167

be a nation — in time, he thinks, a great, and a very great
nation.''

" Ah ! It is this ambition of greatness that hurries them
all on ! Why can they not be satisfied with being respecta
ble subjects of so great a country as England, that they
must destroy each other for this phantom of liberty 1 Will
i: make them wiser, or happier, or better than they are?"

Thus reasoned Maud, under the influence of one engross
ing sentiment. As our tale proceeds, we shall have occasion
to show, perhaps, how far was that submission to events
wh'h-h she inculcated, from the impulses of her true character.
Bculah answered mildly, but it was more as a young Ame
rican wife :

" I know Event thinks it all right, Maud ; and you will
own he is neither fiery nor impetuous. If his cool judgment
approve of what has been done, we may well suppose that
it has not been done in too much haste, or needlessly."

" Think, Bculah," rejoined Maud, with an ashen cheek,
and in trembling tones, " that Evert and Robert may, at
this very moment, be engaged in strife against each other.
The last messenger who came in, brought us the miserable
tidings that Sir William Howe was landing a large army
near New York, and that the Americans were preparing to
meet it. We are certain that Bob is with his regiment ; and
his regiment we know is in the army. How can we think
of this liberty, at a moment so critical?"

Beulah did not reply ; for in spite of her quiet nature, and
implicit confidence in her husband, she could not escape a
woman's solicitude. The colonel had promised to write at
every good occasion, and that which he promised was usually
performed. She thought, and thought rightly, that a very
few days would bring them intelligence of importance ;
though it came in a shape she had little anticipated, and by
a messenger she had then no desire to see.

In the meantime, the season and its labours advanced.
August was over, and September with its fruits had suc
ceeded, promising to bring the year round without any new
or extraordinary incidents to change the fortunes of the in
mates of the Hutted Knoll. Beulah had now been married
more than a twelvemonth, and was already a mother; and
of course all that time had elapsed since the son quitted his

168 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

father's house. Nick, too, had disappeared shortly after
his return from Boston ; and throughout this eventful sum
mer, his dark, red countenance had not been seen in the

valley.

CHAPTER XI.

And now 'tis still ! no sound to wake
The primal forest's awful shade ;
And breathless lies the covert brake,
Where many an ambushed form is laid :
I see the red-man's gleaming eye,
Yet all so hushed the gloom profound,
That summer birds flit heedlessly,
And mocking nature smiles around.

LUNT.

THE eventful summer of 1776 had been genial and gener
ous in the valley of the Hutted Knoll. With a desire to drive
away obtrusive thoughts, the captain had been much in his
fields, and he was bethinking himself of making a large con
tribution to the good cause, in the way of fatted porkers, of
which he had an unusual number, that he thought might
yet be driven through the forest to Fort Stanwix, before the
season closed. In the way of intelligence from the seat of
war, nothing had reached the family but a letter from the
major, which he had managed to get sent, and in which he
wrote with necessary caution. He merely mentioned the
arrival of Sir William Howe's forces, and the state of his
own health. There was a short postscript, in the following
words, the letter having been directed to his father : — " Tell
dearest Maud," he said, " that charming women have ceased
to charm me ; glory occupying so much of my day-dreams,
like an ignis fatuus, I fear ; and that as for love, all my
affections are centred in the dear objects at the Hutted Knoll.
If I had met with a single woman I admired half as much
as I do her pretty self, I should have been married long
since." This was written in answer to some thoughtless
rattle that the captain had volunteered to put in his last
letter, as coming from Maud, who had sensitively shrunk

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 169

from sending a message when asked ; and it was read by
father, mother, and Beulah, as the badinage of a brother to
a sister, without awaking a second thought in either. Not
HO with Maud, herself, however. When her seniors had
done with this letter, she carried it to her own room, reading
and re-reading it a dozen times; nor could she muster reso
lution to return it ; but, tinding at length that the epistle was
forgotten, she succeeded in retaining it without awakening
attention to what she had done. This letter now became
her constant companion, and a hundred times did the sweet
girl trace its characters, in the privacy of her chamber, or
in that of her now solitary walks in the woods.

As yet, the war had produced none of those scenes of
ruthless frontier violence, that had distinguished all the pre
vious conflicts of America. The enemy was on the coast,
and thither the efforts of the combatants had been principally
directed. It is true, an attempt on Canada had been made,
but it failed for want of means ; neither party being in a
condition to effect much, as yet, in that quarter. The cap
tain had commented on this peculiarity of the present strug
gle ; all those which had preceded it having, as a matter of
course, taken the direction of the frontiers between the hos
tile provinces.

" There is no use, Woods, in bothering ourselves about
these things, after all," observed captain Willoughby, one
day, when the subject of hanging the long-neglected gates
came up between them. " It 's a heavy job, and the crops
will sutler if we lake off the hands this week. We are as
safe, here, as we should be in Hyde Park; and safer too;
for there house-breakers and foot-pads abound ; whereas,
your preaching has left nothing but very vulgar and every
day sinners at the Knoll."

The chaplain had little to say against this reasoning; for,
to own the truth, he saw no particular cause for apprehen
sion. Impunity had produced the feeling of security, until
these gates had got to be rather a subject of amusement,
than of any serious discussion. The preceding year, when
the stockade was erected, Joel had managed to throw so
many obstacles in the way of hanging the gates, that the
duty was not performed throughout the whole of the present
summer, the subject having been mentioned but once or

VOL. I. — 15

170 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

twice, and then only to be postponed to a more fitting occa
sion.

As yet no one in the valley knew of the great event which
had taken place in July. A rumour of a design to de
clare the provinces independent had reached the Hut in
May ; but the major's letter was silent on this important
event, and positive information had arrived by no other
channel ; otherwise, the captain would have regarded the
struggle as much more serious than he had ever done be
fore ; and he might have set about raising these all-important
gates in earnest. As it was, however, there they stood ;
each pair leaning against its proper wall or stockade, though
those of the latter were so light as to have required but
eight or ten men to set them on their hinges, in a couple of
hours at most.

Captain Willoughby still confined his agricultural schemes
to the site of the old Beaver Pond. The area of that was
perfectly beautiful, every unsightly object having been re
moved, while the fences and the tillage were faultlessly neat
and regular. Care had been taken, too, to render the few
small fields around the cabins which skirted this lovely rural
scene, worthy of their vicinage. The stumps had all been
dug, the surfaces levelled, and the orchards and gardens
were in keeping with the charms that nature had so bounti
fully scattered about the place.

While, however, all in the shape of tillage was confined
to this one spot, the cattle ranged the forest for miles. Not
only was the valley, but the adjacent mountain-sides were
covered with intersecting paths, beaten by the herds, in the
course of years. These paths led to many a glen, or look
out, where Beulah and Maud had long been in the habit of
pursuing their rambles, during the sultry heats of summer.
Though so beautiful to the eye, the flats were not agreeable
for walks ; and it was but natural for the lovers of the pic
turesque to seek the eminences, where they could overlook
the vast surfaces of leaves that were spread before them ; or
to bury themselves in ravines and glens, within which the
rays of the sun scarce penetrated. The paths mentioned
led near, or to, a hundred of these places, all within a mile
or two of the. Hut. As a matter of course, then, they were
not neglected.

THE IIUTTED KNOLL. 171

Beuhli had now been a mother several months. Her
little Evert was born at the Knoll, and he occupied most of

politic and aileetionate thoughts which were not en
grossed by his absent lather. Her marriage, of itself, had

some changes in her intercourse with Maud ; but the
birth of the child had brought about still more. The care
of this little being formed Beulah's great delight; and Mrs.
Willoughby had ail that peculiar interest in her descendant,
which marks a grandmothers irresponsible love. '1
two passed half their time in the nursery, a room fitted bc-
.. their respective chambers; leaving Maud more alone
than it was her wont to be, and of course to brood over her
thoughts and leelings. Th-->i.' p<-ri<nU of solitude our heroine
iiuch accustomed to pass in the forest. Use had so far
emboldened her, that apprehension never shortened her
walks, or lessened their pleasure. Of danger, from any
ordinary source, there was literally next to none, man never
having been known to approach the valley, unless by the
regular path ; while the beasts of prey had been so actively
hunted, as rarely to be seen in that quarter of the country.
The panther excepted, no wild quadruped was to be in the
least feared in summer ; and, of the first, none had ever
been met with by Nick, or any of the numerous woodsmen
who had now frequented the adjacent hills for two lustrums.
About three hours before the setting of the sun, on the
evening of the 23d of September, 1770, Maud Willoughby
was pursuing her way, quite alone, along ohe of the paths
beaten by the cattle, at some little distance from a rocky
eminence, where there was a look-out, on which Mike, by
her father's orders, had made a rude seat. It was on the
side of the clearing most remote from all the cabins ; though,
once on the elevation, she could command a view of the
whole of the little panorama around the site of the ancient
pond. In that day, ladies wore the well-known gipscy hat,
a style that was peculiarly suited to the face of our heroine.

Be had oiven her cheeks a rich glow; and though a
shade of sadness, or at least of reflection, was now habitually
thrown athwart her sweet countenance, this bloom added an
unusual lustre to her eyes, and a brilliancy to her beauty,
that the proudest belle of any drawing-room might have
been glad to possess. Although living so retired, her dress

172 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

always became her rank ; being simple, but of the charao
ter that denotes refinement, and the habits and tastes of a
gentlewoman. In this particular, Maud had ever been ob
servant of what was due to herself; and, more than all, had
she attended to her present appearance since a chance ex
pression of Robert Willoughby's had betrayed how much
he prized the quality in her.

Looking thus, and in a melancholy frame of mind, Maud
reached the rock, and took her place on its simple seat,
throwing aside her hat, to catch a little of the cooling air on
her burning cheeks. She turned to look at the lovely view
again, with a pleasure that never tired. The rays of the
sun were streaming athwart the verdant meadows and rich
corn, lengthening the shadows, and mellowing everything,
as if expressly to please the eye of one like her who now
gazed upon the scene. Most of the people of the settlement
were in the open air, the men closing- their day's works in
the fields, and the women and children busied beneath
shades, with their wheels and needles ; the whole presenting
such a picture of peaceful, rural life, as a poet might de
light to describe, or an artist to delineate with his pencil.

" The landscape smiles
Calm in the sun ; and silent are the hills
And valleys, and the blue serene of air."

The Vanished Lark.

" It is very beautiful !" thought Maud. " Why cannot
men be content with such scenes of loveliness and nature
as this, and love each other, and be at peace, as God's laws
command? Then we might all be living happily together,
here, without trembling lest news of some sad misfortune
should reach us, from hour to hour. Beulah and Evert
would not be separated ; but both could remain with their
child — and my dear, dear father and mother would be so
happy to have us all around them, in security — and, then,
Bob, too — perhaps Bob might bring a wife from the town,
with him, that I could love as I do Beulah" — It was one of
Maud's day-dreams to love the wife of Bob, and make him
happy by contributing to the happiness of those he most
prized — " No ; I could never love her as I do Beulah; but
I should make her very dear to me, as I ought to, since she
would be Bob's wife."

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 173

The expression of Maud's lace, towards the close of this
mental soliloquy, was of singular sadness; and yrt it was
the \vry picture of sincerity and truth. It was some such
look us the windows of I lie- mind assume, when the feelings
struggle against nature and hope, for resignation and sub-
u to duty.

At this instant, a cry arose from the valley ! It was one
of those spontaneous, involuntary outbreaking! of alarm,
that no art can imitate, no pen describe; but which convex s
to the listener's ear, terror in the very sound. At the next
instant, the men from the mill were seen rushing up to the
summit of the dill' that impended over their dwellings, fol
lowed by their wives dragging children after them, making
frantic gestures, indicative of alarm. The first impulse of
Maud was to llyr ; but a moment's reflection told her it was
much too late for that. To remain and witness what fol
lowed would be safer, and more wise. Her dress was dark,
and she would not be likely to be observed at the distance
at which she was placed ; having behind her, too, a back
ground of gloomy rock. Then the scene was too exciting to
admit of much hesitation or delay in coming to a decision ;
a fearful species of maddened curiosity mingling with her
alarm. Under such circumstances, it is not surprising that
Maud continued gazing on what she saw, with eyes that
seemed to devour the objects before them.

The first cry from the valley was followed by the appear
ance of the fugitives from the mill. These took the way
towards the Hut, calling on the nearest labourers by imme,
to seek safety in flight. The words could not be distin
guished at the rock, though indistinct sounds might; but
the gestures could not be mistaken. In half a minute, the
plain was alive with fugitives; some rushing to their cabins
for their children, and all taking the direction of the stock
ade, as soon as the last were found. In five minutes the
and lanes near the Knoll were crowded with m»-n,
women and children, hastening forward to its protection,
while a few of the former had already rushed through the
Maud correctly fancied, in quest of their arms.

( 'aptain Willoughby was riding am<>nj; his labourers when
this fearful interruption to a tranquillity so placid first broke
upon his ear. Accustomed to alarms, lie galloped forward
15 *

174 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

to meet the fugitives from the mill, issuing orders as he
passed to several of the men nearest the house. With the
miller, who thought little of anything but safety at that in
stant, he conversed a moment, and then pushed boldly on
towards the verge of the cliffs. Maud trembled as she saw
her father in a situation which she thought must be so ex
posed ; but his cool manner of riding about proved that he
saw no enemy very near. At length he waved his hat to
some object, or person in the glen beneath ; and she even
thought she heard his shout. At the next moment, he turned
his horse, and was seen scouring along the road towards the
Hut. The lawn was covered with the fugitives as the captain
reached it, while a few armed men were already coming out
of the court-yard. Gesticulating as if giving orders, the
captain dashed through them all, without drawing the rein,
and disappeared in the court. A minute later, he re-issued,
bearing his arms, followed by his wife and Beulah, the latter
pressing little Evert to her bosom.

Something like order now began to appear among the
men. Counting all ages and both colours, the valley, at
this particular moment, could muster thirty-three males
capable of bearing arms. To these might be added some
ten or fifteen women who had occasionally brought down a
deer, and who might be thought more or less dangerous,
stationed at a loop, with a rifle or a musket. Captain Wil-
loughby had taken some pains to drill the former, who could
go through some of the simpler light-infantry evolutions.
Among them he had appointed sundry corporals, while Joel
Strides had been named a serjeant. Joyce, now an eged
and war-worn veteran, did the duty of adjutant. Twenty
men were soon drawn up in array, in front of the open gate
way on the lawn, under the immediate orders of Joyce ; and
the last woman and child, that had been seen approaching
the place of refuge, had passed within the stockade. At this
instant captain Willoughby called a party of the stragglers
around him, and set about hanging the gates of the outer
passage, or that which led through the palisades.

Maud would now have left th^ rock, but, at that moment,
a dark body of Indians poured up over the cliffs, crowning
it with a menacing cloud of at least fifty armed warriors.
The rivulet lay between her and l*he Hut, and the nearest

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 175

bridge that crossed it would have brought her within reach
of (hinder. Then it would require at least half an hour to
reach that bridge by the circuitous path she would be com-
pd led to take, and there was little hope of getting over it
before the strangers should have advanced. It was better
to remain where she could behold what was passing, and to
be governed by events, than to rush blindly into unseen
risks.

The party that crowned the cliffs near the mills, showed
no impatience to advance. It was evidently busy in recon
noitring, and in receiving accessions to its numbers. The
latter soon increased to some seventy or eighty warriors.
After waiting several minutes in inaction, a musket, or rifle,
was fired towards the Hut, as if to try the effect of a summons
and the range of a bullet. At this hint the men on the lawn
retired within the stockade, stacked their arms, and joined
the party that was endeavouring to get the gates in their
places. From the circumstance that her father directed all
the women and children to retire within the court, Maud
supposed that the bullet might have fallen somewhere near
them. It was quite evident, however, that no one was in
jured.

The gates intended for the stockade, being open like the
rest of that work, were materially lighter than those con
structed for the house itself. The difficulty was in handling
them with the accuracy required to enter the hinges, of
which there were three pairs. This difficulty existed on
account of their great height. Of physical force, enough
could be applied to toss them over the stockade itself, if
necessary ; but finesse was needed, rather than force, to
effect the principal object, and that under difficult circum
stances. It is scarcely possible that the proximity of so
fierce an enemy as a body of savages in their war-paint,
;oh the men at the mill had discovered was the guiso
of their assailants, would in any measure favour the coolness
and tact of the labourers. Poor Maud lost the sense of her
own danger, in the nervous desire to see the long-forgotten
gates hung ; and she rose once or twice, in feverish excite
ment, as she saw that the leaf which was raised fell in or
out, missing its fastenings. Still the men persevered, one

176 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

or two sentinels being placed to watch the Indians, and give
timely notice of their approach, should they advance.

Maud now kneeled, with her face bowed to the seat, and
uttered a short but most fervent prayer, in behalf of the dear
beings that the Hut contained. This calmed her spirits a
little, and she rose once more to watch the course of events.
The body of men had left the gate at which they had just
been toiling, and were crowding around its fellow. One
leaf was hung ! As an assurance of this, she soon after saw
her father swing it backward and forward on its hinges, to
cause it to settle into its place. This was an immense relief,
though she had heard too many tales of Indian warfare, to
think there was any imminent danger of an attack by open
day, in the very face of the garrison. The cool manner in
which her father proceeded, satisfied her that he felt the
same security, for the moment ; his great object being, in
truth, to make suitable provision against the hours of dark
ness.

Although Maud had been educated as a lady, and possess
ed the delicacy and refinement of her class, she had unavoid
ably caught some of the fire and resolution of a frontier life.
To her, the forest, for instance, possessed no fancied dan-
gers; but when there was real ground for alarm, she estimated
its causes intelligently, and with calmness. So it was, also,
in the present crisis. She remembered all she had boen
taught, or had heard, and quick of apprehension, her infor
mation was justly applied to the estimate of present circum
stances.

The men at the Hut soon had the second leaf of the gate
ready to be raised. At this instant, an Indian advanced
across the fiat alone, bearing a branch of a tree in his hand,
and moving swiftly. This was a flag of truce, desiring to
communicate with the pale-faces. Captain Willoughby met
the messenger alone, at the foot of the lawn, and there a
conference took place that lasted several minutes. Maud
could only conjecture its objects, though she thought her
father's attitude commanding, and his gestures stern. The
red-man, as usual, was quiet and dignified. This much our
heroine saw, or fancied she saw ; but beyond this, of course,
all was vague conjecture. Just as the two were about to
part, and had even made courteous signs of their intention, a

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 177

shout arose from the workmen, which a-crnded,
i'aintly, as hi^h as the ro -k. Captain Wiiloughby turned,
and thdi Maud saw his arm extended towards the stockade
The second leaf of thr> gate was in its place, swinging tc
and fro, in ,1 sort of exulting demonstration of its i
Tin1 savage moved away, more slowly than he had ;idva
occasionally stopping to reconnoitre the Knoll and its de
fences.

Captain Willoughby now returned to his people, and he
->mc time busied in examining the gates, and giving
directions about its fastenings. Utterly forgetful of her own
situation, Maud shed tears of joy, as she saw that this great
object was successfully effected. The stockade was an im-
' security to the people of the Hut. Although it cer
tainly might be scaled, such an enterprise would require
great caution, courage, and address; and it could hardly
be effected, at all, by day-light. At night, even, it would
allow the sentinels time to give the alarm, and with a vigi
lant look-out, might be the means of repelling an enemy.
There was also another consideration connected with this
stockade. An enemy would not be fond of trusting himself
inside of it, unless reasonably certain of carrying the citadel
altogether ; inasmuch as it might serve as a prison to place
him in the hands of the i-arri^m. To recross it under a
fire from the loops, would be an exploit so hazardous that
few Indians would think of undertaking it. All this .Maud
knew from her father's conversations, and she saw how
much had been obtained in raising the gates. Then the
stockade, once properly closed, aflorded great security to
those moving about within it; the timbers would be apt to
stop a bullet, and were a perfect defence against a rush ;
leaving time to the women and children to get into the court,
even allowing that the assailants succeeded in scaling the
palisades.

.Maud thought rapidly and well, in the strait in which she
was placed. She understood most of the movements, on
both sides, and she also saw the importance of her remain-
inn where she could note all that passed, if she intended to
make an attempt at reaching the Hut, after dark. This
necessity determined her to continue at the rock, so long as
light remained. She wondered she was not missed, but

178 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

rightly attributed the circumstance to the suddenness of the
alarm, and the crowd of other thoughts which would natu
rally press upon the minds of her friends, at such a fearful
moment. " I will stay where I am," thought Maud, a little
proudly, " and prove, if I am not really the daughter of
Hugh VVilloughby, that I am not altogether unworthy of
his love and care ! I can even pass the night in the forest,
at this warm season, without suffering."

Just as these thoughts crossed her mind, in a sort of men
tal soliloquy, a stone rolled from a path above her, and fell
over the rock on which the seat was placed. A footstep was
then heard, and the girl's heart beat quick with apprehen
sion. Still she conceived it safest to remain perfectly quiet.
She scarce breathed in her anxiety to be motionless. Then
it occurred to her, that some one beside herself might be
out from the Hut, and that a friend was near. Mike had
been in the woods that very afternoon, she knew ; for she
had seen him ; and the true-hearted fellow would indeed be
a treasure to her, at that awful moment. This idea, which
rose almost to certainty as soon as it occurred, induced her
to spring forward, when the appearance of a man, whom
she did not recognise, dressed in a hunting-shirt, and other
wise attired for the woods, carrying a short rifle in the
hollow of his arm, caused her to stop, in motionless terror.
At first, her presence was not observed ; but, no sooner did the
stranger catch a glimpse of her person, than he stopped,
raised his hands in surprise, laid his rifle against a tree, and
sprang forward ; the girl closing her eyes, and sinking on
the seat, with bowed head, expecting the blow of the deadly
tomahawk.

" Maud — dearest, dearest Maud — do you not know me !"
exclaimed one, leaning over the pallid girl, while he passed
an arm round her slender waist, with an affection so delicate
and reserved, that, at another time, it might have attracted
attention. " Look up, dear girl, and show that at least you
fear not me /"

" Bob," said the half-senseless Maud. " Whence come
you? — Why do you come at this fearful instant! — Would
to God your visit had been better timed !"

" Terror makes you say this, my poor Maud ! Of ail the
family, I had hoped for the warmest welcome from you.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 179

Wo think alike about this war — then you arc not so much
terrified at the idea of my being found here, but can hear
reason. Why do you say thi<, then, my dearest Maud I"

By this time Maud had so. far recovered as to be able to
look up into the major's fan*, with an expression in which
alarm was blended with unutterable tenderness. Still she
did not throw her arms around him, as a sister would clasp
a beloved brother ; but, rather, as he pressed her gently to
liis bosom, repelled the embrace by a slight resistance.
Extricating herself, however, she turned and pointed towards
the valley.

" Why do I say this ? See for yourself— the savages havo
at length come, and the whole dreadful picture is before
you."'

Young Willoughby's military eye took in the scene at a
glance. The Indians were still at the clifF, and the peoplo
of the settlement were straining at the heavier gates of tho
Hut, having already got one of them into a position where
it wanted only the proper application of a steady force to bo
hung. He saw his father actively employed in giving' direc
tions ; and a few pertinent questions drew all the other cir
cumstances from Maud. The enemy had now been in tho
valley more than an hour, and the movements of the two
parties were soon related.

"Are you alone, dearest Maud? are you shut out by this
sudden inroad?" demanded the major, with concern and
surprise.

" So it would seem. I can see no other — though I did
think Michael might be somewhere near me, in the "woods,
here ; I at first mistook your footsteps for his."

*' That is a mistake" — returned Willousrhby, levelling a
small pocket spy-glass at the Hut — " Mike is tugging at
that gate, upholding a part of it, like a corner-stone. I see
most of the faces I know there, and my dear father is as
active, and yet as cool, as if at the head of a regiment."

" Then I am alone — it is perhaps better that as many as
possible should be in the house to defend it."

" Not alone, my sweet Maud, so long as I am with you.
Do you still think my visit so ill-timed ?"

" Perhaps not, after all. Heaven knows what I should
have done, by myself, when it became dark 1"

180 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" But are we safe on this seat ? — May we not be seen by
the Indians, since we so plainly see them ?"

" I think not. I have often remarked that when Evert
and Beulah have been here, their figures could not be per
ceived from the lawn ; owing, I fancy, to the dark back
ground of rock. My dress is not light, and you are in
green ; which is the colour of the leaves, and not easily to
be distinguished. No other spot gives so good a view of
what takes place in the valley. We must risk a little expo
sure, or act in the dark."

" You are a soldier's daughter, Maud" — This was as true
of major Meredith as of captain Willoughby, and might
therefore be freely said by even Bob — " You are a soldier's
daughter, and nature has clearly intended you to be a sol
dier's wife. This is a covp-d'-ceil not to be despised."

" I shall never be a wife at all" — murmured Maud, scarce
knowing what she said ; " I may not live to be a soldier's
daughter, even, much longer. But, why are you here ? —
surely, surely you can have no connection with those sa
vages ! — I have heard of such horrors ; but you would not
accompany them, even though it were to protect the Hut."

" I '11 not answer for that, Maud. One would do a great
deal to preserve his paternal dwelling from pillage, and his
father's grey hairs from violence. But I came alone ; that
party and its objects being utterly strangers to me."

" And why do you come at all, Bob ?" inquired the anxious
girl, looking up into his face with open affection — " The
situation of the country is now such, as to make your visits
very hazardous."

" Who could know the regular major in this hunting-
shirt, and forest garb? I have not an article about my per
son to betray me, even were I before a court. No fear for
me then, Maud ; unless it be from these demons in human
shape, the savages. Even they do not seem to be very
fiercely inclined, as they appear at this moment more dis
posed to eat, than to attack the Hut. Look for yourself;
those fellows are certainly preparing to take their food ; the
group that is just now coming over the cliffs, is dragging a
deer after it."

Maud took the glass, though with an unsteady hand, and
she looked a moment at the savages. The manner in which

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 181

the instrument brought these wild beings nearer to her eye,
'•d her to shudder, and six.- was soon satisfied.

"That deer was killed this morning by the miller," she

said; "they ht\<- doubtless found it in or near his cabin.

We will be thankful, however, for this breathing-time — it

ni u- enab: father to got up the other gate. Look,

', and sec what progress they make?"

'• One side is just hung, and much joy does it produce
among them ! Persevere, my noble old father, and you will
soon be safe against your enemies. What a calm and steady
air he has, amid it alii Ah ! .Maud, I lugh \Villoughby ought,
at this moment, to be at the head of a brigade, helping to
suppress this accursed and unnatural rebellion. Nay, more ;
he may be there, if lie will only listen to reason and duty."

"And this is then your errand here, Bob?" asked "his
fair companion, gazing earnestly at the major.

" It is, Maud — and 1 hope you, whose feelings I know to
be right, can encourage me to hope."

44 1 li-ar not. It is now too late. Beulah's marriage with
h is strengthened his opinions — and then "

44 What, dearest .Maud ? You 'pause as if that « then? had
:iing you hesitated to ex:

Maud coloured ; after which she smiled faintly, and pro
ceeded :

u U'c should speak reverently of a father — and such a
father, too. But does it not seem probable to you, Bob, tint
the many discussions he has with Mr. Woods may have a
tendency to confirm each in his notions?"

Robert Willoughby would have answered in the affirma
tive, had not a sudden movement at the Hut prevented.

182 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

CHAPTER XII.

From Flodden ridge
The Scots beheld the English host
Leave Barmore wood, their evening1 post,
And heedful watched them as they crossed

The Till by Twisal Bridge.

SCOTT.

IT was just at this instant that most of the women of the
settlement rushed from the court, and spread themselves
within the stockade, Mrs. Willoughby and Beulah being
foremost in the movement. The captain left the gate, too,
and even the men, who were just about to raise the last
leaf, suspended their toil. It was quite apparent some new
cause for uneasiness or alarm had suddenly awoke among
them. Still the stack of arms remained untouched, nor was
there any new demonstration among the Indians. The
major watched everything, with intense attention, through
the glass.

" What is it, dear Bob ?" demanded the anxious Maud.
" I see rny dearest mother — she seems alarmed."

" Was it known to her that you were about to quit the
house, when you came out on this walk ?"

" I rather think not. She and Beulah were in the nursery
with little Evert, and my father was in the fields. I came
out without speaking to any person, nor did I meet any be
fore entering the forest."

" Then you are now first missed. Yes, that is it — and
no wonder, Maud, it creates alarm. Merciful God ! How
must they all feel, at a moment like this !"

" Fire your rifle, Bob — that will draw their eyes in this
direction, and I will wave my handkerchief — perhaps that
might be seen. Beulah has received such signals from me,
before."

" It would never do. No, we must remain concealed,
watching their movements, in order to be able to aid them

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 183

at the proper time. It is painful to endure this sus;>
ln'Nond a d- >u hi; but the j»ain must be borne in order to
ensure the saii-ty of one \vho is so very, very precious to
us all."

Notwithstanding the* fearful situation in which she was

;, .Maud felt soothed by these words. The language

of ailed ion, as coming from Robert \Villoughby, was vry

> her at all times, and never more than at a moment

when it appeared that even her life was suspended, as it

miiiiit be, by a hair.

" It is as you say," she answered gently, giving him her
hand with much of her ancient frankness of manner; " we
should be i md of course lost — but what means the

movement at the Hut?"

There was indeed a movement within the stockade.
Maud's absence was now clearly ascertained, and it is need
less to describe the commotion the circumstance produced.
No one thought any longer of the half of the gate that still
remained to be hung, but every supposable part of the house
and enclosure had been examined in quest of her who was
missing. Our heroine's last remark, however, was pro
duced by certain indications of an intention to make a de
scent from one of the external windows of the common
parlour, a room it will be remembered that stood on the
little cliff, above the rivulet that wound beneath its base.
This clilF was about forty feet high, and though it offered a
formidable obstacle to any attempt to scale it, there was no
great difficulty in an active man's descending, aided by a
rope. The spot, too, was completely concealed from the
view of the party which still remained on the rock, near the
mill, at a distance of quite half a mile from the gates of the
stoekade. This fact greatly facilitated the little sortie, since,
once in the bed of the rivulet, which was fringed with hush'"*,
it would be very practicable, by following its windin
Lrain the forest unseen. The major levelled his ijlass at the
windows, and immediately saw the truth of all that has here
be.'ii mentioned.

" They are preparing to send a party out," he said, " and
doubtless in quest of you, Maud. The thing is very feasible,
provided the savages remain much longer in their pr
position. It is matter of surprise to me, that the last have

184 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

not sent a force in the rear of the Hut, where the windows
are at least exposed to fire, and the forest is so close as to
afford a cover to the assailants. In front there is literally
none, but a few low fences, which is the reason I presume
that they keep so much aloof."

" It is not probable they know the valley. With the ex
ception of Nick, but few Indians have ever visited us, and
that rarely. Those we have seen have all been of the most
peaceable and friendly tribes ; not a true warrior, as my
father says, ever having been found among them. Nick is
the only one of them all that can thus be termed."

" Is it possible that fellow has led this party ? I have never
more than half confided in him, and yet he is too old a friend
of the family, I should think, to be guilty of such an act of
baseness."

" My father thinks him a knave, but I question if he has
an opinion of him as bad as that. Besides, he knows the
valley, and would have led the Indians round into the rear
of the house, if it be a place so much more favourable for
the attack, as you suppose. These wretches have come by
the common paths, all of which first strike the river, as you
know, below the mills."

" That is true. I lost my way, a few miles from this, the
path being very blind on the eastern route, which I travelled
as having gone it last with Nick, and thinking it the safest.
Fortunately I recognised the crest of this mountain above
us, by its shape, or I might never have found my way ; al
though the streams, when struck, are certain guides to the
woodsman. As soon as I hit the cow-paths, I knew they
would lead me to the barns and sheds. See ! a man is
actually descending from a window !"

" Oh ! Bob, I hope it is not my father ! He is too old — it
is risking too much to let him quit the house."

" I will tell you better when he reaches the ground. Un
less mistaken — ay — it is the Irishman, O'Hearn."

" Honest Mike ! He is always foremost in everything,
though he so little knows how anything but digging ought
to be done. Is there not another following him — or am I
deceived ?"

'; There is— -he has just reached the ground, too. This
might be spared, did they know how well you are guarded,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 185

Maud. By one ul:o \\nuM die cheerfully to prevent harm
from reaching .

"They , :i of that, Bob," answered Maud, in a

low t<uie. •• ,\ot a human bcinu in that valley fancies you

r to him than the- royal armies are, at tins moment.

But they do not s«-ml a third — 1 am glad they weaken their

own force no furtl,

" It is certainly best they should not. The men had their
rill, s s,lung when they descended, and they are now getting
th'-in ready for service. It is Joel Strides who is with
Mike/'

" 1 am sorry for it. That is a man I little like, Bob, and
I should be sorry he knew of your being here."

This was fcauj quickly, and with a decree of feeling that
surprised the major, who questioned Maud earnestly as to
her meaning and its reasons. The latter told him she scarce
herself; that she disliked the man's manner, had long
thought liis principles bad, and that Mike in his extraordi
nary way had said certain things to her, to awaken distrust.

" Mike speaks in hieroglyphics," said the major, laughing,
in spite of the serious situation in which he and his compa
nion wen- placed, "and one must never be too sure of Ids
meaning. Joel has now been many years with my father,
and he seems to enjoy his confidence."

" lie makes himself useful, and is very guarded in what
he says at the Hut. Still — I wish him not to know of your

here."

It will not be easy to prevent it, Maud. I should have
come boldly into the valley, but for this accidental meeting
with you, trusting that my father has no one about him so
base as to betray his son."

" Trust not Joel Strides. I '11 answer for Mike with my
life ; but sorry indeed should I be that Joel Strides knew of
your being among us. It were better, perhcrps, that most
of the workmen should not be in the secret. See — the two
men are quitting the foot of the rocks."

This was true, and Robert Willoughby watched their
movements with th> j . As Iiad Ix-en <-.\|>r "ted, they
first d'-scend.-d into the l>ed of the rivulet, wading along its
shore, under the cover of the bushes, until they soon became
concealed even from the view of one placed on a height as
16*

186 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

elevated as that occupied by Robert and Maud. It was
sufficiently apparent, however, that their intention was to
reach the forest in this manner, when they would probably
commence their search for the missing young lady. Nor
was it long before Robert and Maud plainly saw the two
adventurers quit the bed of the stream and bury themselves
in the forest. The question now seriously arose as to the
best course for the major and his companion to pursue.
Under ordinary circumstances, it would have been wisest,
perhaps, to descend at once and meet the messengers, who
might soon be found at some of the usual haunts of the girl ;
but against this the latter so earnestly protested, and that in
a manner so soothing to the young man's feelings, that he
scarce knew how to oppose her wishes. She implored him
not to confide in Joel Strides too hastily, at least. It might
be time enough, when there was no alternative ; until the
true character of the party then in the valley was known,
it would be premature. Nothing was easiev than to conceal
himself until it was dark, when he might approach the Hut,
and be admitted without his presence being known to any
but those on whom the family could certainly rely. The
major urged the impossibility of his quitting Maud, until
she was joined by the two men sent in quest of her, and
then it would be too late, as he must be seen. Although he
might escape immediate recognition in his present dress, the
presence of a stranger would excite suspicions, and compel
an explanation. To this Maud replied in the following
manner : Her customary places of resort, when in the
woods, were well known ; more especially to Michael, who
was frequently employed in their vicinity. These were a
little water-fall, that was situated a hundred rods up the
rivulet, to which a path had been made expressly, and where
an arbour, seat, and little table had been arranged, for the
purposes of Working, reading, or taking refreshments. To
this spot the men would unquestionably proceed first. Then,
there was a deep ravine, some distance farther, that was
often visited for its savage beauty, and whither she more
frequently went, perhaps, than to any other place. Thither
Michael would be certain to lead his companion. These
two places visited, they might infallibly expect to see the
men at the rock, where the two were then seated, as the

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 187

last spot in which Maud might naturally bo expected (o 1><;
found. It \vou!d require an hour t«> visit the two places first
numed, and to examine the surrounding woods ; and I v that
time, not only would the sun hi- set, but the twilight would
be disappearing. I ntii that moment, then, the major might
remain at her side, and on the sound of the approaching
footsteps of ill-- rs, h • hud only to retire bcliind a

; -tion of the rocks, and afterwards follow towards the
Knoll, at a sail' distance.

This plan was too plausible to be rejected ; and giving
Robert an hour of uninterrupted discourse with his c
nion, it struck him as having more advantages than any
other mentioned. The party near the mills, too, remaining
perfectly quiet, there was less occasion for any change of
th"ir own, than might otherwise have been the case. So
far, indeed, from appearing to entertain any hostile invn-
tion, not a cabin had been injured, if approached, and the
smoke of the conflagration which had been exp'-eted to rise
from the mills and the habitations in the glen, did not make
i's appearance. If any such ruthless acts as applying the
brand and assaulting the people were in contemplation, they
it least delayed until night should veil them in a fitting
darkness.

It is always a great relief to the mind, in moments of trial,
to have decided on a course of future action. So the major
and Maud now found; for, taking his seat by her si<! .
began to converse with his companion more connectedly,
and with greater calmness than either had yet been able to
achieve. Many questions were asked, and answers given,
concerning the state of the family, that of his fath'-r an I
mother, and dear Beulah and her infant, the latter being as
yt-t quite a stranger to the young soldier.

'; Is he like his rebel of a fath'-r !'' asked the royal officer,

smiling, but as his companion fancied, painfully; "or has

he more of the look of the Willoughbys. He<-kman is a

good-looking Dutchman; yet, I would rather have the boy

nble the good old English stork, after all."

"Th«'s\v<' t lit'!,. . ,-h lather and mo.

ther; though the first the m • at d«'Iiuhf.

Papa says h" is true 'Holland's come of,' as they call if,
though neither mamma nor I will allow of any such thing.

188 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

Colonel Beekman is a very worthy man, Bob, and a most
affectionate and attentive husband. Beulah, but for this
war, could not be happier."

" Then I forgive him one-half of his treason — for the re
mainder let him take his luck. Now I am an uncle, my
heart begins to melt a little towards the rebel. And you,
Maud, how do the honours of an aunt sit upon your feel
ings ? But women are all heart, and would love a rat."

Maud smiled, but she answered not. Though Beulah's
child were almost as dear to her as one of her own could
have been, she remembered that she was not its aunt, in
fact ; and, though she knew not why, in that company, and
even at that grave moment, the obtrusive thought summon
ed a bright flush to her cheeks. The major probably did
not notice this change of countenance, since, after a short
pause, he continued the conversation naturally.

"The child is called Evert, is it not, aunt Maud?" he
asked, laying an emphasis on ' aunt.'

Maud wished this word had not been used ; and yet Ro
bert Willoughby, could the truth have been known, had
adverted to it with an association in his own mind, that
would have distressed her, just then, still more. Aunt Maud
was the name that others, however, were most fond of adopt
ing, since the birth of the child ; and remembering this, our
heroine smiled.

" That is what Beulah has called me, these six months,"
she said — " or ever since Evert was born. I became an
aunt the day he became a nephew ; and dear, good Beulah
has not once called me sister since, I think."

" These little creatures introduce new ties into families,"
answered the major, thoughtfully. " They take the places
of the generations before them, and edge us out of our hold
on the affections, as in the end they supplant us in our
stations in life; If Beulah love me only as an uncle, how
ever, she may look to it. I '11 be supplanted by no Dutch
man's child that was ever born !"

" FO?/, Bob !" cried Maud, starting. " You are its real
uncle ; Beulah must ever remember you> and love you, as
her own brother !"

Maud's voice became suddenly hushed, like one who fear
ed she had said too much. The major gazed at her intently,

TUB HUTTED KNOLL. ISO

but he spoke not; nor did his companion see his Ion!
uun ryes being ca>t iiM'kly and tivmMin^ly on the earth at
her feet. A considerable pans.- succeeded, and then the
conversation reverted to what \\as going on in the valley.

The sun was no\v set, and the shadows of evening IM'LMII
;. ler objects a little indistinct beneath them. Btill it
was apparent that much anxiety prevailed in and about the
Hut, doubtless on account of our heroine's absence. So
jrrrat was it, indeed, as entirely to supersede the hanging
of the remaining leaf of the gate, which stood in the gap
where it belonged, stayed by pieces of limber, but unhung.
Th •• major thought some disposition had been made, how
ever, by which the inmates might pass and repass by the
half that was suspended, making a tolerable defence, when
all was c!<

*• Hist !" whispered Maud, whose faculties were quickened
by the danger of her companion ; " I hear the voice of Mi-
chael, and they approach. No sense of danger can repress
poor O'Hearn's eloquence; his ideas seeming to flow from
his tongue very much as they rise to his thoughts, chance
directing which shall appear first."

" It is true, dear girl ; and as you seem so strongly to
wish it, I will withdraw. Depend on my keeping near" you,
and on my presence, should it be required."

" Vou will not forget to come beneath the windows, Bob,"
said Maud, anxiously, but in great haste ; for the footsteps
of the men drew rapidly near; "at the very spot where the
others descended."

The major bent forward and kissed a cheek that was
chilled with apprehension, but which the act caused to burn
like fire; then he disappeared behind the projection of rock
he had himself pointed out. As for Maud, she sate in seem
ing composure, awaiting the approach of those who drew

near.

The divil bur-r-n me, and nil the Injins in Anif-riky
along wid me," said Miko. scrambling up the n
shortcut, "but I think we'll find the young .Mi^;i>, h-'r*-,
or I don't think we'll be finding her the niuht. ;
rursrd couQthry to live in, Misther Strides, where a youn"
lady of the loveliness and pithiful beauty of Miss .Maud can

190 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

be lust in the woods, as it might be a sheep or a stray baste
that was for tasting the neighbour's pastures."

" You speak too loud, Mike, and you speak foolishness
into the bargain," returned the wary Joel.

" Is it I, you mane ! Och ! don't think ye 're goin' to set
me a rowin' a boat once more, ag'in my inclinations and
edication, as ye did in ould limes. I 've rung ye into yer
ma'tin', and out of yer m'atin', too, twenty times too often
to be catched in that same trap twice. It 's Miss Maud I

wants, and Miss Maud I '11 find, or Lord bless her

swate face and morals, and her chamcfcter, and all belong
ing to her ! — isn't that, now, a prathy composure for the
likes of her, and the savages at the mill, and the Missus in
tears, and the masther mighty un'asy, and all of us bother
ed ! See how she sits on that bit of a sate that I puts there
for her wid my own hands, as a laddy should, looking jist
what she is, the quane of the woods, and the delight of our
eyes !"

Maud was too much accustomed to the rhapsodies of the
county Leitrim-man to think much of this commencement ;
but resolute to act her part with discretion, she rose to meet
him, speaking with great apparent self-possession.

" Is it possible you are in quest of me?" she said — "why
has this happened ? — I usually return about this hour."

" Hoors is it ! Don't talk of hoors, beauthiful young laddy,
when a single quarther may be too late," answered Mike,
dogmatically. " It 's your own mother that 's not happy at
yer being in the woods the night, and yer ould father that
has moore un'asiness than he '11 confess ; long life to the
church in which confession is held to be right, and dacent,
and accorthing to the gospel of St. Luke, and the whole
calender in the bargain. Ye '11 not be frightened, Miss
Maud, but take what I 've to tell ye jist as if ye didn't bel'ave
a wo-r-r-d of it ; but, divil bur-r-n me, if there arn't Injins
enough on the rocks, forenent the mill, to scalp a whole
province, and a county along wid it, if ye '11 give 'em time
and knives enough."

" I understand you, Michael, but am not in the least
alarmed," answered Maud, with an air of great steadiness ;
such, indeed, as would have delighted the captain. " Some
thing of what has been passing below have I seen j but, by

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 191

bt-ing calm and reasonable, wo shall escape the dan^iT.
Tell mo only, that all is sale in the Hut — that my dear mo
ther and sister are uell."

" Is it the .Missus ? Och, she's as valiant as a ]>< -acock,
only striek duwn and overcome about your own self! As
lor Miss Beuly, where 's the likes of her to be found, unless
it's on this same bit of a rock .' And it 's ajjraable to see
the captain, looking for all the wor-r-ld like a commander-
in-ch:tif of six or eight rijiments, ordering one this-a-\vav,
and another that-a-way — By St. Patrick, young laddy, I
only hopes them vagabonds will come on as soon as your
self is inside the sticks, jist to give the ould jontlcman a
better occasion to play souldier on 'em. Should they happen
to climb over the sticks, I 've got the prattiest bit of a shil-
lak'h ready that mortal eyes iver adorned ! 'Tvvould break
a head and niver a hat harmed — a thousand's the pities
tii- ;n rhaps wears no hats. Howsever, we'll see."

" Thank you, Mike, for the courage you show, and the
interest you take in all our welfares — Is it not too soon to
venture down upon the flats, Joel ? I must trust to you as a
guide."

" I think Miss Maud would do full as well if she did.
Mike must be told, too, not to talk so much, and above all,
not to speak so loud. He may be heard, sometimes, a dozen
rods."

" Tould !" exclaimed the county Leitrim-man, in heat —
"And isn't tould I 've been twenty times already, by your
own smooth conversation? Where's the occasion to tell a
thing over and over ag'in, when a man is not wanting in
ears. It's the likes of you that loves to convarse."

4' Well, Mike, for my sake, you will be silent, I hope,"
said Maud. " Remember, I am not fitted for a battle, and
the first thing is to get safely into the house. The sooner
we are down the hill, perhaps, the better it may be. Lead
the way, then, Joel, and I will follow. Michaol will go next
to you, in readiness for any enemy, and I will bring up the
rear. It will be better for all to keep a dead silence, until it
be necessary to speak."

This arrangement was made, and the party proceeded,
Maud remaining a little behind, in order that the major
might catch glimpses of her person, in the sombre light jf

THE HUTTED KNOLL.

the hour and the forest, and not miss the road. A few
minutes brought them all upon the level land, where, Joel,
instead of entering the open fields, inclined more into the
woods, always keeping one of the many paths. His object
was to cross the rivulet under cover, a suitable place offer
ing a short distance from the point where the stream glided
out of the forest. Towards this spot Joel quietly held his
way, occasionally stopping to listen if any movement of im
portance had occurred on the flats. As for Maud, her eyes
were frequently cast behind her, for she was fearful Robert
Willoughby might miss the path, having so little acquaint
ance with the thousand sinuosities he encountered. She
caught glimpses of his person, however, in the distance, and
saw that he was on the right track. Her chief concern,
therefore, soon became an anxiety that he should not be
seen by her companions. As they kept a little in advance,
and the underbrush was somewhat thick, she had strong
hopes that this evil would be avoided.

The path being very circuitous, it took some time to reach
the spot Joel sought. Here he, Mike, and Maud, crossed
the rivulet on a tree that had been felled expressly to answer
the purposes of a rustic foot-bridge ; a common expedient
of the American forest. As our heroine had often performed
this exploit when alone, she required no assistance, and she
felt as if half the danger of her critical situation had vanish
ed, when she found herself on the same side of the stream
as the Hut. Joel, nothing suspecting, and keeping all his
faculties on the sounds and sights that might occur in front,
led the way diligently, and soon reached the verge of the
woods. Here he paused for his companions to join him.

Twilight had, by this time, nearly disappeared. Still,
enough remained to enable Maud to perceive that many
were watching for her, either at the windows above the
cliff, or through different parts of the stockades. The distance
was so small, that it might have been possible, by raising
the voice, even to converse ; but this would be an experi
ment too hazardous, as some hostile scouts, at that hour,
might very well be fearfully near.

" I see nothing, Miss Maud," observed Joel, after taking a
good look around him. " By keeping the path that follows
the edge of the brook, though it is so crooked, we shall be

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 193

certain of good walking, and shall be half hid by the bushes.
It's best to walk quick, and to be silent."

Maud bade him go on, waiting herself behind a tree, to
let the two men precede her a short distance. This was
done, and the major stole up to her side unseen. A few
words of explanation passed, when the young lady ran after
her guides, leaving Robert Willoughby seated on a log. It
was a breathless moment to Maud, that in which she was
passing this bit of open land. But the distance was so short,
that it was soon gotten over ; and the three found themselves
beneath the cliff. Here they passed the spring, and follow
ing a path which led from it, turned the edge of the rocks,
and ascended to the foot of the stockades. It remained to
turn these also, in order to reach the so recently suspended
gates. As Maud passed swiftly along, almost brushing the
timbers with her dress, she saw, in the dim light, fifty faces
looking at her, and thrust between the timbers ; but she
paused not, spoke not — scarcely breathed. A profound
stillness reigned on the Knoll,; but when Joel arrived at the
gate, it was instantly opened^ and he glided in. Not so
with Mike, who stopped and waited until she he had been
in quest of entered before him, and was in safety.

Maud found herself in her mother's arms, the instant the
gate was passed. Mrs. Willoughby had been at the angle
of the cliff, had followed her child, in her swift progress
round the stockade, and was ready to receive her, the mo
ment she entered. Beulah came next, and then the captain
embraced, kissed, wept over, and scolded his little favourite.

" No reproaches now, Hugh" — said the more considerate
wife, and gentle woman — " Maud has done no more than
has long been her custom, and no one could have foreseen
what has happened."

" Mother — father" — said Maud, almost gasping for breath
— " let us bless God for my safety, and for the safety of all
that are dear to us — thank you, dear Mr. Woods — there is
a kiss, to thank you — now let us go into the house; I have
much to tell you — come dear sir — come dearest mother, do
not lose a moment ; let us all go to the library."

As this was the room in which the family devotions were
usually held, the auditors fancied the excited girl wished to
return her thanks in that mode, one not unfrequent in that

VOL. I.— 17

194 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

regulated family, and all followed her, who dared, with
tender sympathy in her feelings, and profoundly grateful
for her safety. As soon as in the room, Maud carefully
shut the door, and went from one to another, in order to
ascertain who were present. Finding none but her father,
mother, sister, and the chaplain, she instantly related all
that had passed, and pointed out the spot where the major
was, at that moment, waiting for the signal to approach. It
is unnecessary to dwell on the astonishment and delight,
mingled with concern, that this intelligence produced.

Maud then rapidly recounted her plan, and implored her
father to see it executed. The captain had none of her ap
prehensions on the subject of his people's fidelity, but he
yielded to the girl's earnest entreaties. Mrs. Willoughby
was so agitated with all the unlooked-for events of the day,
that she joined her daughter in the request, and Maud was
told to proceed with the affair, in her own way.

A lamp was brought, and placed by Maud in a pantry
that was lighted by a single, long, narrow, external window,
at the angle of the building next the offices, and the door
was closed on it. This lamp was the signal for the major to
approach, and with beating hearts the females bent forward
from the windows, secure of not being seen in the night,
which had now fairly closed on the valley, to listen to his
approaching footsteps beneath. They did not wait long ere
he was not only heard, but dimly seen, though totally out
of the line of sight from all in the Hut, with the exception
of those above his head. Captain Willoughby had prepared
a rope, one end of which was dropped, and fastened by the
major, himself, around his body. A jerk let those above
know when he was ready.

" What shall we do next ?" asked the captain, in a sort
of despair. " Woods and I can never drag that tall, heavy
fellow up such a distance. He is six feet, and weighs a
hundred and eighty, if he weighs a pound."

" Peace," half-whispered Maud, from a window. " All
will be right in a moment." Then drawing in her body,
the pale but earnest girl begged her father to have patience.
" I have thought of all. Mike and the blacks may be trusted
with our lives — I will call them."

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 195

This was done, and the county Lcitrim-man and the two
Plinys were soon in the room.

" O'Hearn," said Maud, inquiringly — «* I think you are
my friend ?"

" Am I my own ! — Is it yees, is the question ? Well, jist
wish for a tooth, and yc may take all in my head for the
asking. Och, I'd be a baste, else ! I 'd ate the remainder
of my days wid not'ing but a spoon to oblcege ye."

"As for you, Pliny, and your son here, you have known
us from children. Not a word must pass the lips of either,
as to what you see — now pull, but with great care, lest the
rope break."

The men did as ordered, raising their load from the ground,
a foot or two at a time. In this manner the burthen approach
ed, yard after yard, until it was evidently drawing near tho
window.

" It 's the captain hoisting up the big baste of a hog, fgr
provisioning the hoose, ag'in a saige," whispered Mike to
the negroes, who grinned as they tugged ; " and when the
cr'atur squails, sec to it, that ye do not squail yerselves."

At that moment the head and shoulders of a man appear
ed at the window. Mike let go the rope, seized a chair, and
was about to knock the intruder on the head ; but the captain
arrested the blow.

" It's one of the vagabond Injins that has undermined the
hog, and coome up in its stead," roared Mike."

" It 's my son" — answered the captain, mildly—" see that
you are silent, and secret."

196 THE HUTTED KNOLL

CHAPTER XIII.

And gloiy long has made the sages smile ;

'Tis something, nothing, words, illusion, wind —

Depending more upon the historian's style

Than on the name a person leaves behind.

Troy owes to Homer what whist owes to Hoyle ;

The present century was growing hlind

To the great Marl borough's skill in giving knocks,

Until his late Life by Archdeacon Coxe.

BYRON.

MAJOR Willoughby's feet were scarcely on the library
floor, when he was clasped in his mother's arms. From
these he soon passed into Beuiah's ; nor did his father hesi
tate about giving him an embrace nearly as warm. As for
Maud, she stood by, weeping in sympathy and in silence.

" And you, too, old man," said Robert Willoughby, dash
ing the tears from his eyes, and turning to the elder black,
holding out a hand — " this is not the first time, by many,
old Pliny, that you have had me between heaven and earth.
Your son was my old play-fellow, and we must shake hands
also. As for O'Hearn, steel is not truer, and we are friends
for life."

The negroes were delighted to see their young master ;
for, in that day, the slaves exulted in the honour, appear
ance, importance and dignity of their owners, far more than
their liberated descendants do now in their own. The major
had been their friend when a boy ; and he was, at present,
their pride and glory. In their view of the matter, the Eng
lish army did not contain his equal in looks, courage, mili
tary skill, or experience ; and it was treason per se to fight
against a cause that he upheld. The captain had laughingly
related to his wife a conversation to this effect he had not
long before overheard between the two Plinys.

" Well, Miss Beuly do a pretty well" — observed the elder;
"but, den he all 'e better, if he no get 'Merican 'mission.
What you call raal colonel, eh ? Have 'e paper from 'e king

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 197

like Masser Bob, and wear a rigimcntal like a lioad of a
turkey cock, so ! Dat be-in' an up and down otliccr."

u P'rhaps .Miss Reilly bring a colonel round, and take ofT
a blue coat, and put on a scarlet," answered the younger.

« \,-!>}irr! — nebbcr see dat, Plin, in a rebbleushun. Dis
got to be a rubbleushun ; and when dat begin in 'arriest, gib
up all idee of Amendment. Rebbleushuns look all one way —
iK'bber see two side, any more dan coloured man see two
side in a red-skin."

As we have not been able to trace the thought to antiquity,
this expression may have been the original of the celebrated
axiom of Napoleon, which tells us that "revolutions never
go backwards.'1 At aJl events, such was the notion of
Pliny Willoughby, Sen., as the namesake of the great Ro
man sty led" himself; and it was greatly admired by Pliny
WU lough by^ Jun., to say nothing of the opinions of Big
Smash and Little Smash, both of whom were listeners to
the discourse.

" Well, I wish a colonel Beekman" — To this name the
fellow gave the true Doric sound of Bakeman. — " I wish a
colonel Beekman only corprul in king's troops, for .Miss
Beuly's sake. Better be sarjun dere, dan briggerdeer-ginral
in '.Mi-rikan company ; dat /know."

" What a briggerdeer mean, Plin ]" inquired Little Smash,
with interest. k> Who he keep company wid, and what he
do ? Tell a body, do — so many officer in 'e army, one nebber
know all he name."

•• "Mericans can't hab 'em. Too poor for dat. Brigger-
deer great gentleum, and wear a red coat. Ole time, see
'em in hundreds, come to visit Masser, and Missus, and play
wid Masser Bob. Oh ! no rebbleushun in dem days ; but
ebbery body know he own business, and do it, too."

This will serve to show the political sentiments of the
Plinys, and may also indicate the bias that the Smashes
were likely to imbibe in such company. As a matter of
•% the major was gladly welcomed by these devoted
admirers; and when Maud a^.-iin whispered to them the ne
cessity of - ich shut his mouth, no trifling operation
in itself, as if it were to be henceforth hermetically s

The assistants were now dismissed, and the major was
left alone with his family. Again and again Mrs. Willoughby
17*

198 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

embraced her son ; nor had her new ties at all lessened
Beulah's interest in her brother. Even the captain kissed
his boy anew, while Mr. Woods shook hands once more
with his old pupil, and blessed him. Maud alone was passive
in this scene of feeling and joy.

" Now, Bob, let us to business," said the captain, as soon
as tranquillity was a little restored. " You have not made
this difficult and perilous journey without an object ; and,
as we are somewhat critically situated ourselves, the sooner
we know what it is, the less will be the danger of its not
producing its proper effect."

" Heaven send, dear sir, that it fail not in its effect, in
deed," answered the son. " But is not this movement in
the valley pressing, and have I not come opportunely to
take a part in the defence of the house?"

" That will be seen a few hours later, perhaps. Every
thing is quiet now, and will probably so remain until near
morning ; or Indian tactics have undergone a change. The
fellows have lighted camp-fires on their rocks, and seern
disposed to rest for the present, at least. Nor do I know
that they are bent on war at all. We have no Indians near
us, who would be likely to dig up the hatchet ; and these
fellows profess peace, by a messenger they have sent me."

" Are they not in their war-paint, sir ? I remember to
have seen warriors, when a boy, and my glass has given
these men the appearance of being on what they call ' a
war-path.' "

" Some of them are certainly in that guise, though he
who came to the Knoll was not. He pretended that they
were a party travelling towards the Hudson in order to learn
the true causes of the difficulties between their Great English
and their Great American Fathers. He asked for meal and
meat to feed his young men with. This was the whole pur
port of his errand."

" And your answer, sir ; is it peace, or war, between
you ?"

" Peace in professions, but I much fear war in reality.
Still one cannot know. An old frontier garrison-man, like
myself, is not apt to put much reliance on Indian faith. We
are now, God be praised ! all within the stockade ; and
having plenty of arms and ammunition, are not likely to be

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 199

easily stormed. A siege is out of the question ; we are too
well provisioned to dread that."

" But you leave the mills, the growing grain, the barns,
even the cabins of your workmen, altogether at the mercy
of these wretches."

'• That cannot well be avoided, unless we go out and
drive them off, in open battle. For the last, they are too
strong, to say nothing of the odds of risking fathers of fami
lies against mere vagabonds, as I suspect these savages to
be. I have told them to help themselves to meal, or grain,
of which they will find plenty in the mill. Pork can be got
in the houses, and they have made way with a deer already,
that I had expected the pleasure of dissecting myself. The
cattle roam the woods at this season, and are tolerably safe ;
but they can burn the barns and other buildings, should
they see fit. In this respect, we are at their mercy. If
they ask for rum, or cider, that may bring matters to a
head ; for, refusing may exasperate them, and granting
either, in any quantity, will certainly cause them all to get
intoxicated."

" Why would not that be good policy, Willoughby ?" ex
claimed the chaplain. " If fairly disguised once, our people
might steal out upon them, and take away all their arms.
Drunken men sleep very profoundly."

" It would be a canonical mode of warfare, perhaps,
Woods," returned the chaplain, smiling, «* but not exactly
a military. I think it safer that they should continue sober ;
for, as yet, they manifest no great intentions of hostility.
But of this we can speak hereafter. Why are you here,
my son, and in this guise ?"

" The motive may as well be told now, as at another
time," answered the major, giving his mother and sisters
chairs, while the others imitated their example in being
seated. *' Sir William Howe has permitted me to come out
to see you — I might almost say ordered me out ; for matters
have now reached a pass when we think every loyal gentle
man in America must feel disposed to take sides with the
crown."

A general movement among his auditors told the mnjor
the extent of the interest they felt in what was expected to
follow. He paused an instant to survey the dark-looking

200 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

group that was clustering around him ; for no lights were in
the room on account of the open windows, and he spoke in
a low voice from motives of prudence ; then he proceeded :

" I should infer from the little that passed between Maud
and myself," he said, " that you are ignorant of the two
most important events that have yet occurred in this un
happy conflict ?"

" We learn little here," answered the father. " I have
heard that my Lord Howe and his brother Sir William have
been named commissioners by His Majesty to heal all the
differences. I knew them both, when young men, and their
elder brother before them. Black Dick, as we used to call
the admiral, is a discreet, well-meaning man ; though I fear
both of them owe their appointments more to their affinity
to the sovereign than to the qualities that might best fit them
to deal with the Americans."

" Little is known of the affinity of which you speak,* and
less said in the army," returned the major, " but I fear there
is no hope of the object of the commission's bei-ng effected.
The American congress has declared the colonies altogether
independent of England ; and so far as this country is con
cerned, the war is carried on as between nation and nation.
All allegiance, even in name, is openly cast aside."

" You astonish me, Bob ! I did not think it could ever
come to this !"

" I thought your native attachments would hardly endure
as strong a measure as this has got to be," answered the
major, not a little satisfied with the strength of feeling mani
fested by his father. " Yet has this been done, sir, and done

* The mother of the three Lords Howe, so well known in American
history, viz: George, killed before Ticonderoga, in the war of '56;
Richard, the celebrated admiral, and the hero of the 1st June; and
Sir William, for several years commander-in-chief in this country,
and the 5th and last viscount; was a Mademoiselle Kilmansegge,
who was supposed to be a natural daughter of George I. This would
make these three officers and George II. first-cousins; and George III.
their great-nephew a la mode de Bretagne. Walpole, and various other-
English writers, speak openly, not only of the connection, but of the
family resemblance. Indeed, most of the gossiping writers of that
age seem to allow that Lord Howe was a grandson of the first English
sovereign of the House of Brunswick.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 201

in a way that it will not be easy to recall. Those who now
;s, resist for the sake of throwing off all connection
with Enulaml."

44 Il;i- Franco any agency in this, Bob? — I own it startles
me, and h;:s a French look."

44 It has driven many of the most respectable of our ene-
mius into our arms, sir. We have never considered you a
direct enemy, though unhappily inclining too much against
us ; * but this will determine Sir Hugh,' said the commander-
in-chief in our closing interview — I suppose you know, my
dear father, that all your old friends, knowing what has
happened, insist on calling you Sir Hugh. I assure you, I
open my lips on the subject; and yet Lord Howe
drank to the health of Sir Hugh VVilloughby, openly at his
own table, the last time I had the honour to dine with
him."

41 Then the next time he favours you with an invitation,
Bob, be kind enough to thank him. 1 want no empty baron
etcy, nor do I ever think of returning to England to live.
Were all I had on earth drummed together, it would barely
make out a respectable competency for a private gentleman
in that extravagant state of society ; and what is a mere
name to one in such circumstances? I wish it were trans
ferable, my dear boy, in the old Scotch mode, and you should
be Sir Bob before you slept."

44 But, Willoughby, it may be useful to Robert, and why
should he not have the title, since neither you nor I care for
it ?" asked the considerate mother.

44 So he may, my dear ; though he must wait for an event
that I fancy you are not very impatient to witness — my
death. When I am gone, let him be Sir Robert, in welcome.
But, Bob — for plain, honest Bob must you remain till then,
unless indeed you earn your spurs in this unhappy war —
have you any military tidings for us ! Wo have heard no-
Ihinir since the arrival of the fleet on the coast."

v- We are in New York, after routing Washington on
Long Island. The rebels" — the major spoke a little more
confidently than had been his wont — 44 The rebels have
retreated into the high country, near the borders of Connec
ticut, where they have inveterate nests of the disaffected in
their rear."

202 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" And has all this been done without bloodshed 1 Wash
ington had stuff in him, in the old French business."

" His stuff is not doubted, sir; but his men make misera
ble work of it. Really I am sometimes ashamed of having
been born in the country. These Yankees fight like wrangling
women, rather than soldiers."

" How 's this ! — You spoke honestly of the affair at Lex
ington, and wrote us a frank account of the murderous work
at Bunker Hill. Have their natures changed with the change
of season ?"

" To own the truth, sir, they did wonders on the Hill, and
not badly in the other affair ; but all their spirit seems gone.
I am quite ashamed of them. Perhaps this declaration of
independence, as it is called, has damped their ardour."

" No, my son — the change, if change there is, depends
on a general and natural law. Nothing but discipline and
long training can carry men with credit through a campaign,
in the open field. Fathers, and husbands, and brothers and
lovers, make formidable enemies, in sight of their own
chimney-tops ; but the most flogging regiments, we used to
say, were the best fighting regiments for a long pull. But,
have a care, Bob ; you are now of a rank that may well get
you a separate command, and do not despise your enemy.
I know these Yankees well — you are one, yourself, though
only half-blooded ; but I know them well, and have often
seen them tried. They are very apt to be badly commanded,
heaven cursing them for their sins, in this form more than
any other — but get them fairly at work, and the guards will
have as much as they can wish, to get along with. Woods
will swear to that"

" Objecting to the mode of corroboration, my dear sir, 1
can support its substance. Inclined as I am to uphold Csesar,
and to do honour to the Lord's anointed, I will not deny my
countrymen's courage ; though I think, Willoughby, now J
recall old times, it was rather the fashion of our officers to
neat it somewhat disrespectfully."

" It was, indeed," answered the captain, thoughtfully —
" and a silly thing it was. They mistook the nature of a
mild and pacific people, totally without the glitter and habits
of military life, for a timid people; and I have often heard
the new hands in the colonies speak of their inhabitants

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 203

with contempt on this very head. Braddock had that failing
to a great degree; and yet this very major Washington
saved his army from annihilation, when it came to truly
desperate work. Mark the words of a much older soldier
than yourself, Bob; you may have more of the bravery of
apparel, and pivsrnt a more military aspect ; may even grain
advantages over them by means of higher discipline, better
arms, and more accurate combinations ; but, when you meet
them fairly, depend on it you will meet dangerous foes, and
men capable of being sooner drilled into good soldiers than
any nation I have met with. Their great curse is, and
probably will be, in selecting too many of their officers from
classes not embued with proper military pride, and altoge
ther without the collaterals of a good military education."

To all this the major had nothing very material to object,
and remembering that the silent but thoughtful Beulah had
a husband in what he called the rebel ranks, he changed the
subject. Arrangements were now made for the comfort and
privacy of the unlooked-for guest. Adjoining the library, a
room with no direct communication with the court by means
of either door or window, was a small and retired apartment
containing a cot-bed, to which the captain was accustomed
to retire in the cases of indisposition, whon Mrs. Willoughby
wished to have either of her daughters with herself, on their
account, or on her own. This room was now given to the
major, and in it he would be perfectly free from every sort
of intrusion. He might eat in the library, if necessary ;
though, all the windows of that wing of the house opening
outward, there was little danger of being seen by any but
the regular domestics of the family, all of whom were to be
let into the secret of his presence, and all of whom were
rightly judged to be perfectly trustworthy.

As the evening promised to be dark, it was determined
among the gentlemen that the major should disguise him
self still more than he was already, and venture outside of
the building, in company with his father, and the chaplain,
as soon as the people, who were now crowded into the
vacant rooms in the empty part of the house, had taken
possession of their respective quarters for the night. In the
meantime a hearty supper was provided for the traveller in
the library, the bullet-proof window-shutters of which room,

204 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

and indeed of all the others on that side of the building,
having first been closed, in order that lights might be used,
without drawing a shot from the adjoining forest.

" We are very safe, here," observed the captain, as his
son appeased his hunger, with the keen relish of a traveller.
" Even Woods might stand a siege in a house built and
stockaded like this. Every window has solid bullet-proof
shutters, with fastenings not easily broken ; and the logs of
the buildings might almost defy round-shot. The gates are
all up, one leaf excepted, and that leaf stands nearly in its
place, well propped and supported. In the morning it shall
be hung like the others. Then the stockade is complete,
and has not a speck of decay about it yet. We shall keep
a guard of twelve men up the whole night, with three senti
nels outside of the buildings; and all of us will sleep in our
clothes, and on our arms. My plan, should an assault be
made, is to draw in the sentinels, as soon as they have dis
charged their pieces, to close the gate, and man the loops.
The last are all open, and spare arms are distributed at
them. I had a walk made within the ridge of the roofs this
spring, by which men can run round the whole Hut, in the
event of an attempt to set fire to the shingles, or fire over
the ridge at an enemy at the stockades. It is a great im
provement, Bob ; and, as it is well railed, will make a capital
station in a warm conflict, before the enemy make their way
within the stockade."

" We must endeavour not to let them get there, sir," an
swered the major — " but, as soon as your people are housed,
I shall have an opportunity to reconnoitre. Open work is
most to the taste of us regulars."

" Not against an Indian enemy. You will be glad of such
a fortress as this, boy, before the question of independence,
or no independence, shall be finally settled. Did not Wash
ington entrench in the town ?"

" Not much on that side of the water, sir ; though he was
reasonably well in the ground on Long Island. There he
had many thousands of men, and works of some extent."

" And how did he get off the island ?" demanded the cap-
'tain, turning round to look his son in the face. " The arm
of the sea is quite half-a-mile in width, at that point — how

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 205

did he cross it in the face of a victorious army ?— 01 did he
only save himself, while you captured his troops?"

Tin' major coloured a little, and then he luoKcd at Beulah
and smiled good-naturedly.

" 1 am so surrounded by rebels here," he said, " that it is
not ea>y to answer all your questions, sir. Beat him we did,
beyond a question, and that with a heavy loss to his army—
and out of New York we have driven him, beyond a ques
tion — but — 1 will not increase Beulah's conceit by stating
any more !"

" If you can tell me anything kind of Evert, Bob, you
will act like a brother in so doing," said the gentle wife.

"Ay, Heekman did well too, they said. I heard some
of our officers extolling a charge he made; and to own the
truth, I was not sorry to be able to say he was my sister's
husband, since a fierce rebel she would marry. All our
news of him is to his credit ; and now I shall get a kiss for
my pains."

The major was not mistaken. With a swelling heart, but
smiling countenance, his sister threw herself into his arms,
when she kissed and was kissed until the tears streamed
down her cheeks.

" It was of Washington I intended to speak, sir," resumed
the major, dashing a tear or two from his own eyes, as
Beulah resumed her chair. " His retreat from the island is
n of as masterly, and has gained him great credit. He
conducted it in person, and did not lose a man. I heard Sir
William mention it as masterly."

"Then by heaven, America will prevail in this contest!"
exclaimed the captain, striking his fist upon the table, with a
suddenness and force that caused all in the room to start.
" If she has a general who can effect such a movement skil
fully, the reign of England is over, here. Why, Woods,
r did a better tiling ! Tin; retreat of the ten
thousand was boy's play to getting across that water. Be
sides, your victory could have been no great matter, Bob,
or it would never have be^n done."

"Our victory was re^x-r'-iMe, sir, while I acknowledge
that the retreat was great. No one among us denies it, and
Washington is always named with respect in the army."

VOL. I. — 18

206 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

In a minute more, Big Smash came in, under the pretence
of removing the dishes, but in reality to see Master Bob, and
to be noticed by him. She was a woman of sixty, the mo
ther of Little Smash, herself a respectable matron of forty;
and both had been born in the household of Mrs. Willough-
by's father, and had rather more attachment for any one of
her children than for all of their own, though each had been
reasonably prolific. The sobriquets had passed into general
use, and the real names of Bess and Mart' were nearly
obsolete. Still, the major thought it polite to use the latter
on the present occasion.

" Upon my word, Mrs. Bess," he said, shaking the old
woman cordially by the hand, though he instinctively shrunk
back from the sight of a pair of lips that were quite ultra,
in the way of pouting, which used often to salute him twenty
years before — " Upon my word, Mrs. Bess, you improve
in beauty, everytime 1 see you. Old age and you seem to
be total strangers to each other. How do you manage to
remain so comely and so young?"

" God send 'e fus', Masser Bob, heabben be praise, and a
good conscience do 'e las'. I do wish you could make ole
Plin hear dat ! He nebber t'ink any good look, now-a-day,
in a ole wench."

" Pliny is half blind. But that is the way with most hus
bands, Smash ; they become blind to the charms of their
spouses, after a few years of matrimony."

" Nebber get marry, Masser Bob, if dat be 'e way."

Then Great Smash gave such a laugh, and such a swing
of her unwieldy body, that one might well have apprehended
her downfall. But, no such thing. She maintained the
equilibrium ; for, renowned as she had been all her life at
producing havoc among plates, and cups, and bowls, she
was never known to be thrown off her own centre of gra
vity. Another hearty shake of the hand followed, and the
major quitted the table. As was usual on all great and joy.
ous occasions in the family, when the emotions reached the
kitchen, that evening was remarkable for a " smash," in
which half the crockery that had just been brought from the
table, fell an unresisting sacrifice. This produced a hot
discussion between " The Big" and " The Little," as to the
offender, which resulted, as so often happens in these in-

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 207

quirics into the accidents of domestic life, in the conclusion
that " nub" ion.; to hlaiii".

•• How V fink lie can come back, and not a plate crack !"
exclaimed Little Smash, in a vindicatory tone, she being the
real delinquent — " ;Jut in V winder, too! Lor! dot enough
to break all 'e dish in 'c house, and in V mill, too ! I do wish
ebbery plate we got was an Injin — den you see fun ! Can
neither like Injin ; 'cm so red, and so sabbage !"

" Ncbbcr talk of Injin, now," answered the indignant mo-
ther — " better talk of plate. Dis make forty t'ousand dish
you break, Mari', sin' you war' a young woman. S'pose
you t'ink Masser made of plate, dat you break 'em up so !
bat what ole Plin say — de nigger! He say all men made
of clay, and plate made of clay, too— well, hot' clay, and
bot' break. All on us wessels, and all on us break to pieces
some day, and don dey'll t'row us away, too."

A general laugh succeeded this touch of morality, Great
Smash bein-g a little addicted to ethical remarks of this na
ture ; after which the war was renewed on the subject of
the broken crockery. Nor did it soon cease ; wrangling,
laughing, singing, toiling, a light-heartcdncss that knew no
serious cares, and affection, making up the sum of the every
day existence of these semi-civilized beings. The presence
of the party in the valley, however, afforded the subject of
an episode; for a negro has quite as much of the de haul
en has in his manner of viewing the aborigines, as the whites
have in their speculations on his own race. Mingled with
this contempt, notwithstanding, was a very active dread,
neither of the Plinys, nor of their amiable consorts, in the
least relishing the idea of being shorn of the wool, with
shears as penetrating as the scalping-knife. After a good
deal of discussion on this subject, the kitchen arrived at the
conclusion that the visit of the major was ordered by Provi
dence, since it was out of all the rules of probability and
practice to have a few half-clad savages get the better of
oer Bob," who was born a soldier, and had so recently
been fighting for the king.

On the latter subject, we ought to have stated that the
captain's kitchen was ultra-loyal. The rude, but simple
beings it contained, had a reverence for rank and power
that even a " rebbelushun" could not disturb, and which

208 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

closely associated, in their minds, royal authority \i ith divine
power. Next to their own master, they considered George
III. as the greatest man of the age ; and there was no dis
position in them to rob him of his rights or his honours.

" You seem thoughtful, Woods," said the captain, while
his son had retired to his own room, in order to assume a
disguise less likely to attract attention in the garrison than
a hunting-shirt. " Is it this unexpected visit of Bob's that
furnishes food for reflection ?"

" Not so much his visit, my dear Willoughby, as the
news he brings us. God knows what will befall the church,
should this rebellion make serious head. The country is in
a dreadful way, already, on the subject of religion ; but it
will be far worse if these * canters' get the upper hand of
the government."

The captain was silent and thoughtful for a moment ; then
he laughingly replied —

" Fear nothing for the church, chaplain. It is of God,
and will outlast a hundred political revolutions."

"I don't know that, Willoughby— I don't know that"— The
chaplain did not exactly mean what he said — " 'Twouldn't
surprise me if we had ' taking up collections,' ' sitting un
der preaching? 'providentially happening,' l exercised in
mind? and ' our Zion? finding their way into dictionaries."

" Quite likely, Woods" — returned the captain, smiling—
" Liberty is known to produce great changes in things;
why not in language?"

" Liberty, indeed ! Yes ; * liberty in prayer' is another of
their phrases. Well, captain Willoughby, if this rebellion
should succeed, we may give up all hopes for the church.
What sort of government shall we have, do you imagine,
sir?"

" Republican, of course," answered the captain, a^ain
becoming thoughtful, as his mind reverted to the important
results that were really dependent on the present state of
things. " Republican — it can be no other. These colonies
have always had a strong bias in that direction, and they
want the elements necessary to a monarchy. New York
has a landed gentry, it is true ; and so has Maryland, and
Virginia, and the Carolinas ; but they are not strong enough
to set up a political aristocracy, or to prop a throne j and

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 209

then this centry will probably be much weakened by tho

slruururii'. Half the principal families an; known to be with
the crown, as it is; and n<".v nun will force them out of
place, in a revolution. No, Woods, if this revolution prosper,
the monarchy is done in America, for at least a century."

•• And tin- prayers for the king and royal family — what
will become of /Arm / '

" I should think they must cease, also. I question if a
people will continue long to pray for authorities that they
refuse to obey."

" I shall stick to the rubrics as long as I have a tongue
in my head. I trust, Willoughby, you will not stop these
prayers, in your settlement?"

" It is the last mode in which I should choose to show
hostility. Still, you must allow it is a little too much to ask
a congregation to pray that the king shall overcome his
enemies, when they are among those very enemies ? The
question presents a dilemma."

" And, yet, I have never failed to read that prayer, as
well as all the rest. You have not objected, hitherto."

" I have not, for I have considered the war as being waged
with parliament and the ministers, whereas it is now clearly
with the king. This paper is certainly a plain and forcible
document."

" And what is that paper? Not the Westminster Confes
sion of Faith, or the Saybrook Platform, I hope ; one of
which will certainly supersede the Thirty-nine Articles in
all our churches, if this rebellion prosper."

" It is the manifesto issued by congress, to justify their
declaration of independence. Bob has brought it with him,
ns a proof how far matters have been carried ; but, really,
it seems to be a creditable document, and is eloquently rea
soned."

" I see how it is, Willoughby — I sec how it is. We shall
find you a rebel general yet; and I export to live to hear
you talk about 4 our Zion' and 'providential accidents.'"

•• X'-i'h'-r, Woods. For the first, I am too old; and, for
the last, I have too much taste, I trust. Whether I shall
alway> pray for the king is another matter. Bat, here is
the major, ready for his sortie. Upon my word, his mas
querade is so complete, I hardly know him myself."
18*

210 THE HUTTED KNOLL

CHAPTER XIV.

He could not rest, he could not stay
Within his tent to wait for day ;
But walked him forth along the sand,
Where thousand sleepers strewed the strand.

Siege of Corinth.

IT was now so late that most of the men of the Hut, and
all the women and children, were housed for the night, pro
vided no alarm occurred. There was consequently little
risk in the major's venturing forth, disguised as he was,
should care be taken not to approach a light. The great
number of the latter, streaming through the windows of the
western wing of the building, showed how many were now
collected within the walls, and gave an unusual appearance
of life and animation to the place. Still, the court was clear,
the men seeking their pallets, in readiness for their coming
watches, while the women were occupied with those great
concerns of female life, the care of children.

The captain, major, and chaplain, each carrying a rifle,
and the two former pistols, moved rapidly across the court,
and passed the gate. The moveable leaf of the latter was
left unbarred, it being the orders of the captain to the senti
nels without, on the approach of an enemy, to retire within
the court, and then to secure the fastenings.

The night was star-light, and it was cool, as is common
to this region of country. There being neither lamp nor
candle on the exterior of the house, even the loops being
darkened, there was little danger in moving about within
the stockades. The sentinels were directed to take their
posts so near the palisades as to command views of the open
lawn without, a precaution that would effectually prevent
the usual stealthy approach of an enemy without discovery.
As the alarm had been very decided, these irregula guar
dians of the house were all at their posts, and exceedingly
watchful, a circumstance that enabled the captain to avoid
them, and thus further remove the danger of his son's being

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 211

recognised. lie accordingly held himself aloof from the
men, keeping within the of the sides of the Hut.

As a matter of course, the first object to which our two
soldiers direeted their eyeSj was the rock above the mill.
The Indians had lighted tires, and were now apparently
bivouacked at no great distance from them, having brought
boards from below with that especial object. Why they
chose to remain in this precise position, and why they ne
glected the better accommodations afforded by^some fifteen
or twenty log-cabins, that skirted the western side of the
valley in particular, were subjects of conjecture. That they
near the fires the board shanties proved, and that they
were to the last degree careless of the proximity of the peo
ple of the place, would seem also to be apparent in the fact
that they had not posted, so far as could be ascertained,
even a solitary sentinel.

" This is altogether surprising for Indian tactics," observed
the captain, in a low voice ; for everything that was uttered
that night without the building was said in very guarded
tones. " I have never before known the savages to cover
themselves in that manner; nor is it usual with them to light
fires to point out the positions they occupy, as these fellows
seem to have done."

" Is it not all seeming, sir?" returned the major. "To
me that camp, if camp it can be called, has an air of being
deserted."

" There is a look about it of premeditated preparation,
that one ought always to distrust in war."

" Is it not unmilitary, sir, for two soldiers like ourselves
to remain in doubt on such a point 1 My professional pride
revolts at such a state of things ; and, with your leave, I
will go outside, and set the matter at rest by reconnoitring."

M Professional pride is a good thing, Bob, rightly under
stood and rightly practised. But the highest point of honour
with the really good soldier is to do that for which he was
precisely intended. Some men fancy armies were got toge
ther just to maintain certain exa^'Tat* -d notions of military
honour; whereas, military honour is nothing but a moral
expedient to aid in effecting the objects for which they are
really raised. I have known men so blinded as to assert
that a soldier is bound to maintain his honour at the expense

212 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

of the law ; and this in face of the fact that, in a free coun
try, a soldier is in truth nothing but one of the props of the
law, in the last resort. So with us ; we are here to defend
this house, and those it contains ; and our military honour
is far more concerned in doing that effectually, and by right
means, than in running the risk of not doing it at all, in
order to satisfy an abstract and untenable notion of a false
code. Let us do what is right, my son, and feel no concern
that our honour suffer."

Captain Willoughby said this, because he fancied it a.
fault in his son's character, sometimes to confound the end
with the means, in appreciating the ethics of his profession.
This is not an uncommon error among those who bear
arms, instances not being wanting in which bodies of men
that are the mere creatures of authority, have not hesitated
to trample the power that brought them into existence under
foot, rather than submit to mortify the feelings of a purely
conventional and exaggerated pride. The major was rebuked
rather than convinced, it not being the natural vocation of
youth to perceive the justice of all the admonitions of age.

"But, if one can be made auxiliary to the other, sir," the
son remarked, " then you will allow that professional esprit^
and professional prudence, may very well march hand in
hand."

" Of that there can be no doubt, though I think it far
wiser and more soldier-like, even, to use all proper precau
tions to guard this house, under our actual circumstances,
than to risk anything material in order to satisfy our doubts
concerning the state of that camp."

" But the cabins, and all the property that lies exposed to
fire and other accidents, including the mills ? Js it not worth
your while to let me make a little excursion, in order to
ascertain the state of things, as connected with them ?"

" Perhaps it would, Bob" — returned the father, after a
little reflection. " It would be a great point gained, to send
a man to look after the buildings, and the horses. The poor
beasts may be suffering for water; and, as you say, the first
thing will be to ascertain where our wild visiters really are,
and what thej are actually bent on. Woods, go with us to
the gate, and let us out. I rely on your saying nothing of
our absence, except to explain to the two nearest sentinels

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 213

who we are, and to be on the look-out for us, against the
moment we may return."

" Will it not be very hazardous to be moving in front of
the stockade, in the darkl Some of our own people may
lire upon you."

" You will tell them to be cautious, and we shall use great
circumspection in our turn. I had better give you a signal
by which wo shall be known."

This was done, and the party moved from under the
shadows of the Hut, down to the gate. Here the two soldiers
halted for several minutes, taking a deliberate and as tho
rough a survey of the scene without, as the darkness per
mitted. Then the chaplain opened the gate, and they issued
forth, moving with great caution down the lawn, towards
the flats. As a matter of course, captain Willoughby was
perfectly familiar with all the lanes, ditches, bridges and
fields of his beautiful possessions. The alluvial soil that
lay spread around him was principally the result of ages of
deposit while the place was covered with water ; but, as the
overflowing of the water had been produced by a regular
dam, the latter once removed, the meadows were free from
the excessive moisture which generally saturates drained
lands. Still, there were two or three large open ditches, to
collect the water that came down the adjacent mountains,
or bubbled up from springs near the margin of the woods.
Across these ditches the roads led, by bridges, and the
whole valley was laid out, in this manner, equally with a
view to convenience and rural beauty. A knowledge of all
the windings was of great use, on the present occasion,
even on the advance ; while, on the retreat, it might clearly
be the means of preserving the lives, or liberties, of the two
adventurers.

The captain did not proceed by the principal road which
led from the Hut to the mills, the great thoroughfare of the
vallry, since it might be watched, in order to prevent A
hostile sortie against the camp ; but he inclined to th<; right,
or to the westward, in order to visit the cabins and barns
in that quartor. It struck him his invaders might have
quietly taken possession of the houses, or even have stolen
his horses and decamped. In this direction, then, he and
his son proceeded, using the greatest caution in their move-

214 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

ments, and occasionally stopping to examine the waning
fires at the rock, or to throw a glance behind them at the
stockade. Everything remained in the quiet which renders
a forest settlement so solemn and imposing, after the daily
movements of man have ceased. The deepest and most
breathless attention could not catch an unaccustomed sound.
Even the bark of a dog was not heard, all those useful ani
mals having followed their masters into the Hut, as if con
scious that their principal care now lay in that direction.
Each of the sentinels had one of these animals near him,
crouched under the stockade, in the expectation of their
giving the alarm, should any strange footstep approach.
In this manner most of the distance between the Knoll and
the forest was crossed, when the major suddenly laid a hand
on his father's arm.

" Here is something stirring on our left," whispered the
former — " It seems, too, to be crouching under the fence."

" You have lost your familiarity with our rural life, Bob,"
answered the father, with a little more confidence of tone,
but still guardedly, " or this fragrant breath would tell you
we are almost on a cow. It is old Whiteback ; I know her
by her horns. Feel ; she is here in the lane with us, and
within reach of your hand. A gentler animal is not in the
settlement. But, stop — pass your hand on her udder — she
will not stir — how is it, full or not ?"

" If I can judge, sir, it is nothing remarkable in the way
of size."

" I understand this better. By Jupiter, boy, that cow has
been milked ! It is certain none of our people have left the
house to do it, since the alarm was first given. This is
ominous of neighbours."

The major made no reply, but he felt to ascertain if his
arms were in a state for immediate service. After a mo
ment's further pause the captain proceeded, moving with
increased caution. Not a word was now uttered, for they
were getting within the shadows of the orchard, and indeed
of the forest, where objects could not well be distinguished
at the distance of a very few yards. A cabin was soon
reached, and it was found empty ; the fire reduced to a few
embers, and quite safe. This was the residence of the man
who had the care of the horses, the stables standing directly

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 215

behind it. Captain Willoughby was a thoughtful and humano
man, and it struck him the animals might now be turned
into a field that joined the barn-yard, where there was not
only rich pasture, but plenty of sweet running water. This
termioed to do at once, the only danger being from
the unbridled inov« m«-nts of cattle that must be impatient
from unusual privation, and a prolonged restraint.

The major opened the gate of the field, and stationed him-
self in a way to turn the animals in the desired direction,
while his father went into the stable to set them free. Tho
first horse came out with great deliberation, being an old
animal well cooled with toil at the plough, and the major
had merely to swing his arm, to turn him into the field. Not
so with the next, however. This was little better than a colt,
a creature in training for his master's saddle ; and no sooner
was it released than it plunged into the yard, then bounded
into the field, around which it galloped, until it found the
water. The others imitated this bad example ; the clatter
of hoofs, though beaten on a rich turf, soon resounding in
the stillness of the night, until it might be heard across the
valley. The captain then rejoined his son.

" This is a good deed somewhat clumsily done, Bob,"
observed the father, as he picked up his rifle and prepared
to proceed. " An Indian ear, however, will not fail to dis
tinguish between the tramping of horses and a charge of
foot."

" Faith, sir, the noise may serve us a good turn yet. Let
us take another look at the fires, and see if this tramping
has set any one in motion near them. We can get a glimpse
a little further ahead."

The look was taken, but nothing was seen. While stand
ing perfectly motionless, beneath the shadows of an apple-
tree, however, a sound was heard quite near them, which
resembled that of a guarded footstep. Both gentlemen d:vw
up, like sportsmen expecting the birds to rise, in waiting for
the sound to approach. It did draw nearer, and presently
a human form was seen moving slowly forward in the path,
approaching the tree, as if to get within its cover. It was
allowed to draw nearer and nearer, until captain Willoughby
laid his hand, from behind the trunk, on the stranger's

216 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

shoulder, demanding sternly, but in a low voice, " who aro
you?"

The start, the exclamation, and the tremor that succeeded,
all denoted the extent of this man's surprise. It was some
little time, even, before he could recover from his alarm,
and then he let himself be known by his answer.

" Massy !" exclaimed Joel Strides, who ordinarily gave
this doric sound to the word ' mercy' — " Massy, captain, is
it you ! I should as soon thought of seeing a ghost ! What
in natur' has brought you out of the stockade, sir?"

" I think that is a question I might better ask you, Mr.
Strides. My orders were to keep the gate close, and for no
one to quit the court-yard even, until sent on post, or called
by an alarm."

" True, sir — quite true — true as gospel. But let us mo
derate a little, captain, and speak lower ; for the Lord only
knows who 's in our neighbourhood. Who 's that with you,
sir7_Not the Rev. Mr. Woods, is it?"

" No matter who is with me. He has the authority of my
commands for being here, whoever he may be, while you
are here in opposition to them. You know me well enough,
Joel, to understand nothing but the simple truth will satisfy
me."

" Lord, sir, I am one of them that never wish to tell you
anything but truth. The captain has known me now long
enough to understand my natur', I should think ; so no more
need be said about that"

" Well, sir — give me the reason — and see that it is given
to me without reserve."

" Yes, sir ; the captain shall have it. He knows we
scrambled out of our houses this afternoon a little onthink-
ingly, Injin alarms being skeary matters. It was an awful
hurrying time ! Well, the captain understands, too, we don't
work for him without receiving our wages ; and I have been
"aying up a little, every year, until I 've scraped together a
few hundred dollars, in good half-joes ; and I bethought me
the money might be in danger, should the savages begin to
plunder ; and I 've just came out to look a'ter the money."

" If this be true, as I hope and can easily believe to be
the case, you must have the money about you, Joel, to
prove it."

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 217

The man stretched forth his arm, and let the captain feel
a handkerchief, in which, sure enough, there was a goodly
quantity of coin. This gave him credit for truth, and re
moved all suspicion of his present excursion being mado
with any sinister intention. The man was questioned as
to his mode of passing the stockade, when he confessed he
had fairly clambered over it, an exploit of no great difficulty
from the inside. As the captain had known Joel too long to
be ignorant of his love of money, and the offence was very
pardonable in itself, he readily forgave the breach of orders.
This was the only man in the valley who did not trust his
little hoard in the iron chest at the Hut ; even the miller
reposing that much confidence in the proprietor of the estate ;
but Joel was too conscious of dishonest intentions himself
to put any unnecessary faith in others.

All this time, the major kept so far aloof as not to be re
cognised, though Joel, once or twice, betrayed symptoms of
a desire to ascertain who he was. Maud had awakened
suspicions that now became active, in both father and son,
when circumstances so unexpectedly and inconveniently
threw the man in their way. It was consequently the wish
of the former to get rid of his overseer as soon as possible.
Previously to doing this, however, he saw fit to interrogate
him a little further.

" Have you seen anything of the Indians since you left
the stockade, Strides ?" demanded the captain. " We can
perceive no other traces of their presence than yonder fires,
though we think that some of them must have passed this
way, for Whiteback's udder is empty."

" To own the truth, captain, I haven't. I some think
that they Ve left the valley ; though the Lord only can tell
when they'll be back ag'in. Such critturs be beyond calci-
lation ! They outdo arithmetic, nohow. As for the cow, I
milked her myself; for being the crittur the captain has
given to Phoebe for her little dairy, I thought it might hurt
her not to be attended to. The pail stands yonder, under
the fence, and the women and children in the Hut may be
glad enough to s«e it in the morning."

This was very characteristic of Joel Strides. He did not
hesitate about disobeying orders, or even to risk his life, in
order to secure his money ; but, determined to come out, he

VOL. L — 19

218 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

had the forethought and care to bring a pail, in order to
supply the wants of those who were now crowded within
the stockade, and who were too much accustomed to this
particular sort of food, not to suffer from its absence. If we
add, that, in the midst of all this prudent attention to the
wants of his companions, Joel had an eye to his personal
popularity and what are called " ulterior events," and that
he selected his own cow for the precise reason given, the
reader has certain distinctive traits of the man before him.

" This being the case," returned the captain, a good deal
relieved at finding that the savages had not been the agents
in this milking affair, since it left the probability of their
remaining stationary — " This being the case, Joel, you had
better find the pail, and go in. As soon as day dawns, how
ever, I recommend that all the cows be called up to the
stockade and milked generally. They are feeding in the
lanes, just now, and will come readily, if properly invited.
Go, then, but say nothing of having met me, and "

" Who else did the captain say ?" inquired Joel, curiously,
observing that the other paused.

" Say nothing of having met us at all, I tell you. It is
very important that my movements should be secret."

The two gentlemen now moved on, intending to pass in
front of the cabins which lined this part of the valley, by a
lane which would bring them out at the general highway
which led from the Knoll to the mill. The captain marched
in front, while his son brought up the rear, at a distance of
two or three paces. Each walked slowly and with caution,
carrying his rifle in the hollow of his arm, in perfect readi
ness for service. In this manner both had proceeded a few
yards, when Robert Willoughby felt his elbow touched, and
saw Joel's face, within eighteen inches of his own, as the
fellow peered under his hat. It was an action so sudden
and unexpected, that the major saw, at once, nothing but
perfect coolness could avert his discovery.

" Is 't you, Dan'el" — so was the miller named. " What
in natur' has brought the old man on this tramp, with the
valley filled with Inj ins?" whispered Joel, prolonging the
speech in order to get a better view of a face and form that
still baffled his conjectures. " Let 's know all about it."

"You'll get me into trouble," answered the major, shaking

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 219

off his unwelcome neighbour, moving a step further from
him, and speaking also in a whisper. " The captain's bent
on a scout, and you know he'll not bear contradiction. Off
with you, then, and don't forget the milk."

As the major moved away, and seemed determined to
baflle him, Joel had no choice between complying and ex
posing his disobedience of orders to the captain. He disliked
doing the last, for his cue was to seem respectful and at
tached, and he was fain to submit. Never before, however,
did Joel Strides suffer a man to slip through his fingers with
so much reluctance. He saw that the captain's companion
was not the miller, while the disguise was too complete to
enable him to distinguish the person or face. In that day,
the different classes of society were strongly distinguished
from each other, by their ordinary attire; and, accustomed
to see major Willoughby only in the dress that belonged to
his station, he would not be likely to recognise him in his
present guise, had he even known of or suspected his visit.
As it was, he was completely at fault ; satisfied it was not
his friend Daniel, while unable to say who it was.

In this doubting state of mind, Joel actually forgot the sav
ages, and the risks he might run from their proximity,
lie walked, as it might be mechanically, to the place where
he had left the pail, and then proceeded slowly towards the
Knoll, pondering at every step on what he had just seen.
He and the miller had secret communications with certain
active agents of the revolutionists, that put them in posses
sion of facts, notwithstanding their isolated position, with
which even their employer was totally unacquainted. It is
true, these agents were of that low caste that never fail to
attach themselves to all great political enterprises, with a
sole view to their own benefit ; still, as they were active,
cunning and bold, and had the sagacity to make themselves
useful, they passed in the throng of patriots created by the
times, and were enabled to impart to men of similar spirits
much available information.

It was through means like these,- that Joel knew of the
all-important measure of the declaration of independence,
while it still remained a secret to captain Willoughby. The
hope of confiscations was now active in the bosoms of all this
set, and many of them had even selected the portions of

220 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

property that they intended should be the reward of their
own love of freedom and patriotism. It has been said that
the English ministry precipitated the American revolution,
with a view to share, among their favourites, the estates
that it was thought it would bring within the gift of the
crown, a motive so heinous as almost to defy credulity, and
which may certainly admit of rational doubts. On the other
hand, however, it is certain that individuals, who will go
down to posterity in company with the many justly illus
trious names that the events of 1776 have committed to
history, were actuated by the most selfish inducements,
and, in divers instances, enriched themselves with the wrecks
of estates that formerly belonged to their kinsmen or friends.
Joel Strides was of too low a class to get his name enrolled
very high on the list of heroes, nor was he at all ambitious
of any such distinction ; but he was not so low that he could
not and did not aspire to become the owner of the property
of the Hutted Knoll. In an ordinary state of society, so
high a flight would seem irrational in so low an aspirant ;
but Joel came of a people who seldom measure their preten
sions by their merits, and who imagine that to boldly aspire,
more especially in the way of money, is the first great step
to success. The much talked of and little understood doc
trine of political equality has this error to answer for, in
thousands of cases ; for nothing can be more hopeless, in
the nature of things, than to convince a man of the necessity
of possessing qualities of whose existence he has not even a
faint perception, ere he may justly pretend to be put on a
level with the high-minded, the just, the educated, and the
good. Joel, therefore, saw no other reason than the law,
against his becoming the great landlord, as well as captain
Willoughby ; and could the law be so moulded as to answer
his purposes, he had discreetly resolved to care for no other
considerations. The thought of the consequences to Mrs.
Willoughby and her daughters gave him no concern what
ever ; they had already possessed the advantages of their
situation so long, as to give Phoebe and the miller's wife a
sort of moral claim to succeed them. In a word, Joel, in
his yearnings after wealth, had only faintly shadowed forth
the modern favourite doctrine of " rotation in office."
The appearance of a stranger in company with captain

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 221

Willoughby could not fail, therefore, to give rise to many
ronjtvtiuvs in the mind of a man whose daily and hourly
thoughts were running on these important changes. " Who
can it he," thought Joel, as he crawled along the lane, bear
ing the milk, and lilting one leg after the other, as if lead
were fastened to his feet. " Dan'el it is not — nor is it any
one that I can consait on, about the Hut. The captain is
mightily strengthened by this marriage of his da'ter with
colonel Beekman, that 's sartain. The colonel stands won
derful well with our folks, and he'll not let all this firsi-iate
land, with such capital betterments, go out of the family
without an iffort, I conclude — but then I calcilate on his
being killed — there must be a dispcrate lot on 'em shot,
afore the war's over, and he is as likely to be among 'em as
another. Dan'el thinks the colonel has the look of a short
lived man. Waal ; to-morrow will bring about a knowledge
of the name of the captain's companion, and then a body
may calcilate with greater sartainty 1"

This is but an outline of what passed through Joel's mind
as he moved onward. It will serve, however, to let the
reader into the secret of his thoughts, as well as into their
ordinary train, and is essentially connected with some of
the succeeding events of our legend. As the overseer ap
proached the stockade, his ideas were so abstracted that he
forgot the risk he ran ; but walking carelessly towards the
palisades, the dogs barked, and then he was saluted by a
shot. This effectually aroused Joel, who called out in his
natural voice, and probably saved his life by so doing. The
report of the rifle, however, produced an alarm, and by tha
time the astounded overseer had staggered up to the gate,
the men were pouring out from the court, armed, and ex
pecting an assault. In the midst of this scene of confusion,
the chaplain admitted. Joel, as much astonished as the man
himself, at the whole of the unexpected occurrence.

It is unnecessary to say that many questions were asked.
Joel got rid of them, by simply stating that he had gone out
to milk a cow, by the captain's private orders, and that he
had forgotten to arrange any signal, by which his return
might be known. He ventured to name his employer, be
cause he knew he was not there to contradict him ; and Mr.
Woods, being anxious to ascertain if his two friends had
19*

222 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

been seen, sent the men back to their lairs, without delay,
detaining the overseer at the gate for a minute's private
discourse. As the miller obeyed, with the rest, he asked
for the pail with an eye to his own children's comfort ; but,
on receiving it, he found it empty ! The bullet had passed
through it, and the contents had escaped.

" Did you see any thing, or person, Strides ?" demanded
the chaplain, as soon as the two were alone.

" Lord, Mr. Woods, I met the captain ! — The sight on him
came over me a'most as cruelly as the shot from the rifle ;
for I no more expected it than I do to see you rise up to
heaven, in your clothes, like Elijah of old. Sure enough,
there was the captain, himself, and — and "

Here Joel sneezed, repeating the word "and" several
times, in hopes the chaplain would supply the name he so
much wished to hear.

" But you saw no savages ? — I know the captain is out,
and you will be careful not to mention it, lest it get to Mrs.
Wiiloughby's ears, and make her uneasy. You saw nothing
of the savages ?"

" Not a bit — the critturs lie cluss enough, if they haven't
actually tramped. Who did you say was with the captain,
Mr. Woods?"

" I said nothing about it — I merely asked after the In
dians, who, as you say, do keep themselves very close.
Well, Joel, go to your wife, who must be getting anxious
about you, and be prudent."

Thus dismissed, the overseer did not dare to hesitate; but
he entered the court, still pondering on the late meeting.

As for the two adventurers, they pursued their march in
silence. As a matter of course, they heard the report of
the rifle, and caught some faint sounds from the alarm that
succeeded ; but, readily comprehending the cause, they pro
duced no uneasiness ; the stillness which succeeded soon
satisfying them that all was right. By this time they were
within a hundred yards of the flickering fires. The major
had kept a strict watch on the shanties at the report of the
rifle ; but not a living thing was seen moving in their vici
nity. This induced him to think the place deserted, and he
whispered as much to his father.

" With any other enemy than an Indian," answered the

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 223

latter, " you might be right enough, Bob ; but with these
rascals one is never certain. We must advance with a good
deal of their own caution."

This was done, and the gentlemen approached the fires
in the most guarded manner, keeping the shantees between
them and the light. By this time, however, the flames were
nearly out, and there was no great difficulty in looking into
the nearest shantee, without much exposure. It was de
serted, as proved to be the case with all the others, on fur
ther examination. Major Willoughby now moved about on
the rock with greater confidence ; for, naturally brave, and
accustomed to use his faculties with self-command in mo
ments of trial, he drew the just distinctions between real
danger and unnecessary alarm ; the truest of all tests of
courage.

The captain, feeling a husband's and a father's responsi
bility, was a little more guarded; but success soon gave
him more confidence, and tfie spot was thoroughly explored.
The two then descended to the mills, which, together with
the adjacent cabins, they entered also, and found uninjured
and empty. After this, several other suspected points were
looked at, until the captain came to the conclusion that the
party had retired, for the night at least, if not entirely.
Making a circuit, however, he and his son visited the chapel,
and one or two dwellings on that side of the valley, when
they bent their steps towards the Knoll.

As the gentlemen approached the stockade, the captain
gave a loud hem, and clapped his hands. At the signal the
gate flew open, and they found themselves in company with
their friend the chaplain once more. A few words of ex
planation told all they had to say, and then the three passed
into the court, and separated ; each taking the direction to
wards his own room. The major, fatigued with the toils of
a long march, was soon in a soldier's sleep ; but it was
hours before his more thoughtful, and still uneasy father,
could obtain the rest which nature so much requires.

224 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

CHAPTER XV.

" I could teach you,

How to choose right, but then I am forsworn;
So will I never be; so may you miss me;
But if you do, you '11 make me wish a sin

That I had been forsworn."

Portia.

CAPTAIN WILLOUGHBY knew that the hour which pre«
ceded the return of light, was that in which the soldier had
the most to apprehend, when in the field. This is the mo
ment when it is usual to attempt surprises ; and it was, in
particular, the Indian's hour of blood. Orders had been
left, accordingly, to call him at four o'clock, and to see that
all the men of the Hut were afoot, and armed also. Not
withstanding the deserted appearance of the valley, this ex
perienced frontier warrior distrusted the signs of the times ;
and he looked forward to the probability of an assault, a
little before the return of day, with a degree of concern he
would have been sorry to communicate to his wife and
daughters.

Every emergency had been foreseen, and such a disposi
tion made of the forces, as enabled the major to be useful,
in the event of an attack, without exposing himself unneces
sarily to the danger of being discovered. He was to have
charge of the defence of the rear of the Hut, or that part of
the buildings where the windows opened outwards ; and
Michael and the two Plinys were assigned him as assistants.
Nor was the ward altogether a useless one. Though the
cliff afforded a material safeguard to this portion of the de
fences, it might be scaled ; and, it will be remembered, there
was no stockade at all, on this, the northern end of the
house.

When the men assembled in the court, therefore, about
an hour before the dawn, Robert Willoughby collected his
small force in the dining-room, the outer apartment of the

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 225

suite, whore he examined their arms by lamp-light, inspect-
cd their ac.-uufrements, and directed them to remain until
•1 fresh ordi-rs. 11U lather, aided by serjeant Joyce,
did th«- same in the court; issuing out, through the i»ute of
the buildings, with his whole force, ay soon as this duty was
performed. The call being general, the women and children
were all up also ; many of the former repairing to the loops,
while the least resolute, or the less experienced of their
number, administered to the wants of the young, or busied
themselves with the concerns of the household. ° In a word,
tii-' Hut, at that early hour, resembled a hive in activity,
though the different pursuits had not much affinity to tho
collection of honey.

It is not to be supposed that Mrs. Willoughby and her
daughters still courted their pillows on an occasion like this.
They rose with the others, the grandmother and Bculah be-
stowing their first care on the little Evert, as if his life and
safety were the considerations uppermost in their thoughts.
This seemed so natural, that Maud wondered she too could
not feel all this absorbing interest in the child, a being so
totally dependent on the affection of its friends and relatives
to provide for its wants and hazards, in an emergency like
the present.

" We will see to the child, Maud," observed her mother,
ten or fifteen minutes after all were up and dressed. " Do
you go to your brother, who will be solitary, alone in his
citadel. He may wish, too, to send some message to his
father. Go, then, dear girl, and help to keep up poor Bob's
spirits."

What a service for Maud ! Still, she went, without hesi
tation or delay ; for the habits of her whole infancy were
not to be totally overcome by the natural and more engross-
->f her later years. She could not feel pre
cisely the reserve and self-distrust with one she had so loni?
brother, as might have been the case wii'h
a strnnnrrr youth in whom she had begun to fed tho ii.
she entertained for Robert Willoughby. But, Maud did ii'.t
• re about complying. An order from her mother to
her was law ; and she had no shame, no reserves on the
subject of contributing to Bob's comfort or happiness.

226 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

Her presence was a great relief to the young man him*
self, whom she found in the library. His assistants were
posted without, as sentinels to keep off intruders, a disposi*
tion that left him quite alone, anxious and uneasy. The
only intercourse he could have with his father was by
means of messages ; and the part of the building he occu
pied was absolutely without any communication with the
court, except by a single door near the offices, at which he
had stationed O'Hearn.

" This is kind, and like yourself, dearest Maud," exclaim
ed the young man, taking the hand of his visiter, and press
ing it in both his own, though he strangely neglected to kisa
her cheek, as he certainly would have done had it been
Beulah — " This is kind and like yourself; now I shall learn
something of the state of the family. How is my mother?"
It might have been native coyness, or even coquetry, that
unconsciously to herself influenced Maud's answer. She
knew not why — and yet she felt prompted to let it be under
stood she had not come of her own impulses.

" Mother is well, and not at all alarmed," she said. "She
and Beulah are busy with little Evert, who crows and kicks
his heels about as if he despised danger as becomes a sol
dier's son, and has much amused even me; though I am
accused of insensibility to his perfections. Believing you
might be solitary, or might wish to communicate with some
of us, my mother desired me to come and inquire into your
wants."

" Was such a bidding required, Maud ! How long has
an order been necessary to bring you to console me T''

" That is a calculation I .have never entered into, Bob,"
answered Maud, slightly blushing, and openly smiling, and
that in a way, too, to take all the sting out of her words T—
" as young ladies can have more suitable occupations, one
might think. You will admit I guided you faithfully and
skilfully into the Hut last evening, and such a service should
suffice for the present. But, my mother tells me we have
proper causes of complaint against you, for having so thought
lessly left the place of safety into which you were brought,
and for going strolling about the valley, after we had retired,
in a very heedless and boyish manner !"

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 227

•• I \vcnt with my father; surely I could not have been in
better company."

" At his suggestion, or at your own, Bob?" asked Maud,
shaking her head.

" To own the truth, it was, in some degree, at my own.
It seemed so very uumilitary Tor two old soldiers to allow
themselves to be shut up in ignorance of what their enemies
were at, that I could not resist the desire to make a little
sortie. You must feel, dear Maud, that our motive was your
safety — the safety, I mean, of my mother, and Beulah, and
all of you together — and yor ought to be the last to blame
us."

The tint on Maud's cheek deepened as Robert Willoughby
laid so heavy an emphasis on " your safety ;" but she could
not smile on an act that risked so much more than was
prudent.

" This is well enough as to motive," she said, after a
pause ; " but frightfully ill-judged, I should think, as to the
risks. You do not remember the importance our dear father
is to us all — to my mother — to Beulah — even to me, Bob."

" Even to youy Maud ! — And why not as much to you as
to any of us'?"

Maud could speak to Beulah of her want of natural affi
nity to the family; but, it far exceeded her self-command to
make a direct allusion to it to Robert Willoughby. Still, it
M as now rarely absent from her mind ; the love she bore the
captain and his wife, and Beulah, and little Evert, coming
to her heart through a more insidious and possibly tenderer
t'u*, than that of purely filial or sisterly affection. It was,
indeed, this evcry-day regard, strangely deepened and enli
vened by that collateral feeling we so freely bestow on them
who are bound by natural lies to those who have the strongest
holds on our hearts, and which causes us to sec with their
. and to feel with their affections. Accordingly, no reply
made to the question ; or, rather, it was answered by
putting another.

" Did you see anything, after all, to compensate for so
much risk?" asked Maud, but not until a pause had betiay-
ed her embarrassment.

" We ascertained that the savages had deserted their fires,
and had not entered any of the cabins. Whether this were

228 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

done to mislead us, or to make a retreat as sudden and un«
expected as their inroad, we are altogether in the dark. My
father apprehends treachery, however ; while, I confess, to
me it seems probable that the arrival and the departure may
be altogether matters of accident. The Indians are in mo-
tion certainly, for it is known that our agents are busy
among them ; but, it is by no means so clear that our
Indians would molest captain Willoughby — Sir Hugh
Willoughby, as my father is altogether called, at head
quarters."

" Have not the Americans savages on their side, to do us
this ill office?"

" I think not. It is the interest of the rebels to keep the
savages out of the struggle ; they have so much at risk, that
this species of warfare can scarcely be to their liking."

" And ought it to be to the liking of the king's generals,
or ministers either, Bob !"

" Perhaps not, Maud. I do not defend it ; but I have seen
enough of politics and war, to know that results are looked
to, far more than principles. Honour, and chivalry, and
humanity, and virtue, and right, are freely used in terms ;
but seldom do they produce much influence on facts. Vic
tory is the end aimed at, and the means are made to vary
with the object."

"And where is all we have read together? — Yes, toge
ther. Bob? for I owe you a great deal for having directed
my studies — where is all we have read about the glory and
truth of the English name and cause?"

" Very much, I fear, Maud, where the glory and truth
of the American name and cause will be, as soon as this
new nation shall fairly burst the shell, and hatch its public
morality. There are men among us who believe in this
public honesty, but I do not."

" You are then engaged in a bad cause, major Willoughby,
and the sooner you abandon it, the better."

" I would in a minute,8 if I knew where to find a better.
Rely on it, dearest Maud, all causes are alike, in this parti
cular ; though one side may employ instruments, as in the
case of the savages, that the other side finds it its interest to
decry. Men, as individuals, may be, and sometimes are,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 229

reasonably upright — but, bodies of men, I much fear, never.
The latter cheapo responsibility by dividing it."

"Still, a good cause may elevate even bodies of men,"
said Maud, thoughtfully.

"For a time, perhaps ; but not in emergencies. You and
I think it a good cause, my good and frowning Maud, to de
ft-mi the rights of our sovereign lord the king. Beulah I
have given up to the enemy ; but on you I have implicitly
relied."

" Llculah follows her heart, perhaps, as they say it is
natural to women to do. As for myself, I am left free to
follow my own opinion of my duties."

" And they lead you to espouse the cause of the king,
Maud !"

" They will be very apt to be influenced by the notions
of a certain captain Willoughby, and Wilhelmina, his wife,
who have guided me aright on so many occasions, that I
shall not easily distrust their opinions on this."

The major disliked this answer; and yet, when he came
to reflect on it, as reflect he did a good deal in the course
of the day, he was dissatisfied with himself at being so un
reasonable as to expect a girl of twenty-one not to think
with her parents, real or presumed, in most matters. At
the moment, however, he did not wish further to press the
point.

" I am glad to learn, Bob," resumed Maud, looking more
cheerful and smiling, " that you met with no one in your
rash sortie — for rash I shall call it, even though sanctioned
by my father."

" 1 am wrong in saying that. We did meet with one man,
and that was no less a person than your bug-bear, Joel
Strides — as innocent, though as meddling an overseer as
one could wish to employ."

"Robert Willoughby, what mean you! Does this man
know of your presence at the Knoll ?"

" 1 should hope not — think not." Here the major ex
plained all that is known to the reader on this head. wh»-n
he continued — "The fellow's curiosity brought his face
within a few inches of mine; yet 1 do not believe he recog
nised me. This disguise is pretty thorough ; and what be-

VOL. I. — 20

230 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

tween his ignorance, the darkness and the dress, I must
believe he was foiled."

" Heaven be praised !" exclaimed Maud, breathing more
freely. " I have long distrusted that man, though he seems
to possess the confidence of every one else. Nejther my
father nor my mother will see him, as I see him ; yet to me
his design to injure you is so clear — so obvious ! — I wonder,
often wonder, that others cannot view it as I do. Even
Beulah is blind !"

" And what do you see so clearly, Maud ? I have con
sented to keep myself incog, in submission to your earnest
request ; and yet, to own the truth, I can discover no parti
cular reason why Strides is to be distrusted more than any
one else in the valley — than Mike, for instance."

" Mike ! I would answer for his truth with my life. He
will never betray you, Bob."

" But why is Joel so much the object of your distrust ? —
and why am / the particular subject of your apprehen
sions ?"

Maud felt the tell-tale blood flowing again to her cheeks ;
since, to give a simple and clear reason for her distrust, ex
ceeded her power. It was nothing but the keen interest
which she took in Robert Willoughby's safety that had be
trayed to her the truth ; and, as usually happens, when
anxiety leads the way in discoveries of this sort, logical and
plausible inferences are not always at command. Still,
Maud not only thought herself right, but, in the main, she
teas right ; and this she felt so strongly as to be enabled to
induce others to act on her impressions.

" Why I believe in Strides' sinister views is more than I
may be able to explain to you, in words, Bob," she replied,
after a moment's thought ; " still, I do believe in them as
firmly as I believe in my existence. His looks, his questions,
his journeys, and an occasional remark, have all aided in
influencing the belief; nevertheless, no one proof may be
perfectly clear and satisfactory. Why you should be the
subject of his plans, however, is simple enough, since you
are the only one among us he can seriously injure. By
betraying you, he might gain some great advantage to him
self."

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 231

"To whom can he betray mo, dear? My father is tho
only person hero, in any authority, and of him I have no
cause to be- afraid."

" Yet, you were so far alarmed when last here, as to
change your route back to Boston. If there were cause for
apprehension then, the same reason may now exist."

" That was when many strangers were in the valley, and
we knew not exactly where we stood. I have submitted to
your wishes, however, Maud, and shall lie perdu, until
there is a serious alarm ; then it is understood I am to be
permitted to show myself. In a moment of emergency my
unexpected appearance among the men might have a dra
matic effect, and, of itself, give us a victory. But tell me
of my prospects — am I likely to succeed with my father ?
Will he be brought over to the royal cause?"

" I think not. All common inducements are lost on him.
His baronetcy, for instance, he will never assume; that,
therefore, cannot entice him. Then his feelings are with
his adopted country, which he thinks right, and which he
is much disposed to maintain ; more particularly since Beu-
lah's marriage, and our late intercourse with all that set.
My mother's family, too, has much influence with him.
They, you know, are all whigs."

" Don't prostitute the name, Maud. Whig does not mean
rebel ; these misguided men are neither more nor less than
rebels. I had thought this declaration of independence
would have brought my father at once to our side."

" I can see it has disturbed him, as did the Battle of
Bunker's Hill. But he will reflect a few days, and decide
now, as he did then, in favour of the Americans. He has
Kn^iish partialities, Bob, as is natural to one born in that
country; but, on this point, his mind is very strongly Ame
rican."

" The accursed Knoll has done this ! Had he lived in
society, as he ought to have done, among his equals and
the educated, we should now see him at the head — Maud, I
know I can confide in T/OI/."

Maud was pleased at this expression of confidence, and
she looked up in the major's face, her full blue eyes express
ing no small portion of the heartfelt satisfaction she expe
rienced. Still, she said nothing.

232 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" You may well imagine," the major continued, " that I
have not made this journey entirely without an object — I
mean some object more important, even, than to see you
all. The commander-in-chief is empowered to raise several
regiments in this country, and it is thought useful to put
men of influence in the colonies at their head. Old Noll
de Lancey, for instance, so well known to us all, is to have
a brigade ; and 1 have a letter in my pocket offering to Sir
Hugh Willoughby one of his regiments. One of the Aliens
of Pennsylvania, who was actually serving against us, has
thrown up his commission from congress, since this wicked
declaration, and has consented to take a battalion from the
king. What think you of all this? Will it not have weight
with my father?"

" It may cause him to reflect, Bob ; but it will not induce
him to change his mind. It may suit Mr. Oliver de Lancey
to be a general, for he has been a soldier his whole life ; but
my father has retired, and given up all thoughts of service.
He tells us he never liked it, and has been happier here at
the Knoll, than when he got his first commission. Mr.
Allen's change of opinion may be well enough, he will say,
but I have no need of change ; I am here, with my wife and
daughters, and have them to care for, in these troubled
times. What think you he said, Bob, in one of his conver
sations with us, on this very subject ?"

" I am sure I cannot imagine — though I rather fear it was
some wretched political stuff of the day."

" So far from this, it was good natural feeling that be
longs, or ought to belong to all days, and all ages," answer
ed Maud, her voice trembling a little as she proceeded.
1 There is my son,' he said ; ' one soldier is enough in a
family like this. He keeps all our hearts anxious, and may
cause them all to mourn.' "

Major Willoughby was mute for quite a minute, looking
rebuked and thoughtful.

" I fear I do cause my parents concern," he at length an
swered ; " and why should I endeavour to increase that of
my excellent mother, by persuading1 her husband to return
to the profession? If this were ordinary service, I could not
think of it. I do not know that I ought to think of it. as
it is!"

TUB HUTTED KNOLL. 233

uDo not, dear Roh-rt. \Ve arc all — that is, mother is
often miserable on your account; and why would you in
crease her sorrows ? Remember that to tremble for one life
is sufficient for a woman."

" My mother is miserable on my account !" answered the
young man, who was thinking of anything but his fathi-r,
at that instant. " Does Beulah never express concern for
me? or have her new ties completely driven her brother
from her recollection ? I know she can scarce wish me suc
cess ; but she might still feel some uneasiness for an only
brother. We are but two "

Maud started, as if some frightful object glared before her
eyes ; then she sat in breathless silence, resolute to hear what
would come next. But Robert Willoughby meant to pursue
that idea no farther. He had so accustomed himself — had
endeavoured even so to accustom himself to think of Beulah
as his only sister, that the words escaped him unconsciously.
They were no sooner uttered, however, than the recollection
of their possible effect on Maud crossed his mind. Profoundly
ignorant of the true nature of her feelings towards himself,
he had ever shrunk from a direct avowal of his own senti
ments, lest he might shock her; as a sister's ear would
naturally be wounded by a declaration of attachment from
a brother; and there were bitter moments when he fancied
delicacy and honour would oblige him to carry his secret
with him to the grave. Two minutes of frank communica
tion might have dissipated all these scruples for ever ; but,
how to obtain those minutes, or how to enter on the subject
at all, were obstacles that often appeared insurmountable to
the young man. As for Maud, she but imperfectly under
stood her own heart — true, she had conscious glimpses of
il state; but, it was through those sudden and ungo
vernable impulses that were so strangely mingled with her
affections. It was years, indeed, since she had ceased to
think of Robert Willoughby as a brother, and had begun to
vi'-w him with different eyes ; still, she struggled with her
feelings, as against a weakness. The captain and his wife
were her parents; Beulah her dearly, dearly beloved sister ;
little Evert her nephew ; and even the collaterals, in and
about Albany, came in for a due share of her regard ; while
Bob, though called Bob as before ; though treated with a
20*

234 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

large portion of the confidence that was natural to the
intimacy of her childhood ; though loved with a tenderness
he would have given even his high-prized commission to
know, was no longer thought of as a brother. Often did
Maud find herself thinking, if never saying, " Beulah may
do that, for Beulah is his sister ; but it would be wrong in me.
I may write to him, talk freely and even confidentially with
him, and be affectionate to him ; all this is right, and I should
be the most ungrateful creature on earth to act differently ;
but I cannot sit on his knee as Beulah sometimes does ; I
cannot throw my arms around his neck when I kiss him,
as Beulah does ; I cannot pat his cheek, as Beulah does,
when he says anything to laugh at ; nor can I pry into his
secrets, as Beulah does, or affects to do, to tease him. I
should be more reserved with one who has not a drop of
my blood in his veins — no, not a single drop." In this way,
indeed, Maud was rather fond of disclaiming any consan
guinity with the family of Willoughby, even while she
honoured and loved its two heads, as parents. The long
pause that succeeded the major's broken sentence was only
interrupted by himself.

" It is vexatious to be shut up here, in the dark, Maud,"
he said, " when every minute may bring an attack. This
side of the house might be defended by you and Beulah,
aided and enlightened by the arm and counsels of that
young 'son of liberty,' little Evert; whereas the stockade
in front may really need the presence of men who have
some knowledge of the noble art. I wish there were a look
out to the front, that one might at least see the danger as it
approached."

" If your presence is not indispensable here, I can lead
you to my painting-room, where there is a loop directly op
posite to the gate. That half of the garrets has no one
in it."

The major accepted the proposal with joy, and forthwith
he proceeded to issue a few necessary orders to his subordi
nates, before he followed Maud. When all was ready, the
latter led the way, carrying a small silver lamp that she
had brought with her on entering the library. The reader
already understands that the Hut was built around a court ;
the portion of the building in the rear, or on the cliff, alone

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 235

having windows that opened outward. Tins was as true of
the roofs as of the perpendicular parts of the structure, tho
only exceptions being in the loops that had been cut in the
half-story, beneath the eaves. Of course, the garrets were
very extensive. They were occupied in part, however, by
small rooms, with dormer-windows, the latter of which
opened on the court, with the exception of those above the
cliff It was on the roofs of these windows that captain
Willoughby had laid his platform, or walk, with a view to
extinguish fires, or to defend the place. There were many
rooms also that were lighted only by the loops, and which,
of course, were on the outer side of the buildings. In addi
tion to these arrangements, the garret portions of the Hut
were divided into two great parts, like the lower floor, with
out any doors of communication. Thus, below, the apart
ments commenced at the gate- way, and extended along one-
half the front; the whole of the east wing, and the whole
of the rear, occupying five-eighths of the entire structure.
This part contained all the rooms occupied by the family
and the offices. The corresponding three-eighths, or the
remaining half of the front, and the whole of the west wing,
were given to visitors, and were now in possession of the
people of the valley ; as were all the rooms and garrets
above them. On the other hand, captain Willoughby, with
a view to keep his family to itself, had excluded every one,
*but the usual inmates, from his own portion of the house,
garret-rooms included.

Some of the garret-rooms, particularly those over tho
library, drawing-room, and parlour, were convenient and
well-furnished little apartments, enjoying dormer-windows
that opened on the meadows and forest, and possessing a
very tolerable elevation, for rooms of that particular con
struction. Here Mr. Woods lodged and had his study. The
access was by a convenient flight of steps, placed in the
vestibule that communicated with the court. A private and
narrower flight also ascended from the offices.

Mafld now led the way up the principal stairs, Mike being
on post at the outer door to keep off impertinent eyes, follow
ed by Robert Willoughby. Unlike most American houses,
the Hut had few passages on its principal floor ; the rooms
communicating en suite, as a better arrangement where the

236 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

buildings were so long, and yet so narrow. Above, how
ever, one side was left in open garret ; sometimes in front
and sometimes in the rear, as the light came from the court,
or from without. Into this garret, then, Maud conducted
the major, passing a line of humble rooms on her right,
which belonged to the families of the Plinys and the Smashes,
with their connections, until she reached the front range of
the buildings. Here the order was changed along the half
of the structure reserved to the use of the family ; the rooms
being on the outer side lighted merely by the loops, while
opposite to them was an open garret with windows that
overlooked the court.

Passing into the garret just mentioned, Maud soon reached
the door of the little room she sought. It was an apartment
she had selected for painting, on account of the light from
the loop, which in the morning was particularly favourable,
though somewhat low. As she usually sat on a little stool,
however, this difficulty was in some measure obviated ; and,
at all events, the place was made to answer her purposes.
She kept the key herself, and the room, since Beulah's mar
riage in particular, was her sanctum ; no one entering it
unless conducted by its mistress. Occasionally, Little Smash
was admitted with a broom ; though Maud, for reasons known
to herself, often preferred sweeping the small carpet that co
vered the centre of the floor, with her own fair hands, in
preference to suffering another to intrude. «

The major was aware that Maud had used this room for
the last seven years. It was here he had seen her handker
chief waving at the loop, when he last departed ; and hun
dreds of times since had he thought of this act of watchful
affection, with doubts that led equally to pain or pleasure,
as images of merely sisterly care, or of a tenderer feeling,
obtruded themselves. These loops were four feet long, cut
in the usual bevelling manner, through the massive timbers ;
were glazed, and had thick, bullet-proof, inside shutters,
that in this room were divided in equal parts, in order to give
Maud the proper use of the light she wanted. All these shut
ters were now closed by command of the captain, in order to
conceal thf lights that would be flickering through the dif
ferent garrets ; and so far had caution become a habit, that

TIIE IIUTTED KNOLL. 237

Maud seldom exposed her person at night, near the loop,
with the shutter open.

On the present occasion, she left the light without, and
threw open the upper-half of her heavy shutter, remarking
as she did so, that the day was just beginning to dawn.

" In a few minutes it w'ill be light," she added ; " then we
shall be able to see who is and who is not in the valley.
Look — you can perceive my father near the gate, at this
moment."

" I do, to my shame, Maud. He should not be there,
while I am cooped up here, behind timbers that are almost
shot-proof."

" It will be time for you to go to the front, as you sol
diers call it, when there is an enemy to face. You cannot
think there is any danger of an attack upon the Hut this
morning."

" Certainly not. It is now too late. If intended at all, it
would have been made before that streak of light appeared
in the east."

" Then close the shutter, and I will bring in the lamp,
and show you some of my sketches. We artists are thirst-
ing always for praise ; and I know you have a taste, Bob,
that one-might dread."

'* This is kind of you, dear Maud," answered the major,
closing the shutter ; " for they tell me you are niggardly of
bestowing such favours. I hear you have got to likenesses —
little Evert's, in particular."

END OF VOL. I.

WYANDOTTE;

O*.

THE HUTTED KNOLL

BY J. FENIMORE COOPER

"I venerate tho Pilgrim's cause,
Yet for tho red man dare to plead:
We bow to ! T(I.-,I laws,

He turns to Nature for his creed."— Sprayue

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.

NEW EDITION.

NEW YORK:
TRINGER AND TOWNSEND,

1852.

Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1843, by

J. rENEMORE COOPER,

in the clerk's office of the district court of the United b'tates, for the
Northern District of New Yoik.

THE HUTTED KNOLL.

CHAPTER I.

Anxious*, she hovers o'er the web the while,
Reads, as it prows, thy figured story there;
Now she explains the texture with a smile,
And now the woof interprets with a tear.

FAWCETT.

ALL Maud's feelings were healthful and natural. She had
no exaggerated sentiments, and scarcely art enough to con
trol or to conceal any of the ordinary impulses of her heart.
~\Ve are not about to relate a scene, therefore, in which a
long-cherished but hidden miniature of the young man is to
play a conspicuous part, and to be the means of revealing
to two lovers the state of their respective hearts ; but one of
a very different character. It is true, Maud had endeavoured
to make, from memory, one or two sketches of " Bob's"
face ; but she had done it openly, and under the cogni
zance of the whole family. This she might very well do,
indeed, in her usual character of a sister, and excite no
comments. In these efforts, her father and mother, and
IVulah, had uniformly pronounced her success to be far
beyond their hopes ; but Maud, herself, had thrown them
all aside, half-finished, dissatisfied with her own labours.
Like the author, whose fertile imagination fancies pictures
that defy his powers of description, her pencil ever fell far
short of the face that her memory kept so constantly in \\<>\v.
This sketch wanted animation, that gentleness, another fire,
and a fourth candour ; in short, had Maud begun a thousand,
all would have been deficient, in her eyes, in ^ome gn at
.rial of perfection. Still, she had no secret about her
efforts, and half-a-dozen of these very sketches lay upper-

(3)

4 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

most in her portfolio, when she spread it, and its contents,
before the eyes of the original.

Major Willoughby thought Maud had never appeared
more beautiful than as she moved about making her little
preparations for the exhibition. Pleasure heightened her
colour; and there was such a mixture of frank, sisterly
regard, in every glance of her eye, blended, however, wilh
sensitive feeling, and conscious womanly reserve, as made
her a thousand times — measuring amounts by the young
man's sensations — more interesting than he had ever seen
her. The lamp gave but an indifferent light for a gallery,
but it was sufficient to betray Maud's smiles, and blushes,
and each varying emotion of her charming countenance.

" Now, Bob," she said, opening her portfolio, with all her
youthful frankness and confidence, " you know well enough
I am not one of those old masters of whom you used to talk
so much, but your own pupil — the work of your own hands ;
and if you find more faults than you have expected, you
will have the goodness to remember that the master has
deserted his peaceful pursuits to go a campaigning — there — •
that is a caricature of your own countenance, staring you
in the face, as a preface !"

" This is like, I should think — was it done from memory,
dear Maud?"

" How else should it be done ? All our entreaties have
never been able to persuade you to send us even a miniature.
You are wrong in this, Bob" — by no accident did Maud
now ever call the major, Robert, though Beulah often did.
There was a desperate sort of familiarity in the Bob, that
she could easily adopt; but the ' Robert' had a family sound
that she disliked ; and yet a more truly feminine creature
than Maud Meredith did not exist — " You are wrong, Bob ;
for mother actually pines to possess your picture, in some
shape or other. It was this wish that induced me to attempt
these things."

" And why has no one of them ever been finished ? — Here
are six or eight beginnings, and all, more or less, like, I
should think, and not one of them more than half done.
Why have I been treated so cavalierly, Miss Maud ?"

The fair artist's colour deepened a little ; but her smile
was quite as sweet as it was saucy, as she replied —

THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" Girlish caprice, I suppose. I like neither of them ; and
of that which a woman dislikes, she will have none. To be
candid, however, I hardly think there is one of them all that
does you justice."

» NO 7 — what fault have you to find with this 1 This might
be worked up to something very natural."

" It would be a natural, then — it wants expression, fear-
fully."

" And this, which is still better. That might be finished
while I am here, and I will give you some sittings."

"Even mother dislikes that — there is too much of the
Major of Foot in it. Mr. Woods says it is a martial pic
ture."

" And ought not a soldier to look like a soldier? To me,
now, that stvms a capital beginning."

" It is not what mother, or Beulah — or father — or even
any of us wants. It is too full of Bunker's Hill. Your
friends desire to see you as you appear to them; not as you
appear to your enemies."

" Upon 'my word, Maud, you have made great advances
in the art! This is a view of the Knoll, and the dam — and
here is another of the mill, and the water-fall — all beauti
fully done, and in water-colours, too. What is this? —
you been attempting a sketch of yourself! — The
glass must have been closely consulted, my fair coquette, to
enable you to do this !"

The blood had rushed into Maud's face, covering it with
a rich tell-tale mantle, when her companion first alluded to
the half-finished miniature he held in his hand ; then her
failures resembled ivory, as the revulsion of feeling, that
overcame her confusion, followed. For some little time she
sate, in breathless stillness, with her looks cast upon the floor,
conscious that Robert Willou«hby was glancing from her
own face to the miniature, and from the miniature to her
face again, making his observations and comparisons. Then
she ventured to raise her eyes timidly towaids his, half-
imploringly, as if to beseech him to pru«vrd to something
else. But the young man was too much engrossed with the
exceedingly pretty sketch he held in his hand, lo understand
her meaning, or to comply with her wishes.
1*

6 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" This is yourself, Maud !" he cried — " though in a strange
sort of dress — why have you spoilt so beautiful a thing, by
putting it in this masquerade]"

" It is not myself — it is a copy of — a miniature I pos
sess."

" A miniature you possess ! — Of whom can you possess
so lovely a miniature, and I never see it ?"

A faint smile illumined the countenance of Maud, and the
blood began to return to her cheeks. She stretched her hand
over to the sketch, and gazed on it, with intense feeling,
until the tears began to stream from her eyes.

" Maud — dear, dearest Maud — have I said that which
pains you 1 — I do not understand all this, but I confess there
are secrets to which I can have no claim to be admitted — "

" Nay, Bob, this is making too much of what, after all,
must sooner or later be spoken of openly among us. I be
lieve that to be a copy of a miniature of my mother."

"Of mother, Maud — you are beside yourself — it has
neither her features, expression, nor the colour of her eyes.
It is the picture of a far handsomer woman, though mother
is still pretty ; and it is perfection !"

" I mean of my mother — of Maud Yeardley ; the wife of
my father, Major Meredith."

This was said with a steadiness that surprised our heroine
herself, when she came to think over all that had passed,
and it brought the blood to her companion's heart, in a
torrent.

" This is strange !" exclaimed Willoughby, after a short
pause. " And my mother — our mother has given you the
original, and told you this? I did not believe she could
muster the resolution necessary to such an act."

" She has not. You know, Bob, I am now of age ; and
my father, a month since, put some papers in my hand,
with a request that I would read them. They contain a
marriage settlement and other things of that sort, which
show I am mistress of more money than I should know what
to do with, if it were not for dear little Evert — but, with such
a precious being to love, one never can have too much of
anything. With the papers were many trinkets, which I
suppose father never looked at. This beautiful miniature
was among the last ; and I feel certain, from some remarks

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 7

I ventured to make, mother does not know of its exist
ence."

As Maud spoke, she drew the original from her bosom,
and placed it in Robert Willoughby's hands. When this
simple act was performed, her mind seemed relieved ;. and
she wailed, with strong natural interest, to hear Robert
Willoughby's comments.

"This, then, Maud, was your own — your real mother!"
the young man said, after studying the miniature, with a
thoughtful countenance, for near a minute. " It is like her —
like you."

" Like her, Bob? — How can you know anything of that?
— I suppose it to be my mother, because I think it like my
self, and because it is not easy to say who else it can be.
But you cannot know anything of this?"

" You are mistaken, Maud — I remember both your pa
rents well — it could not be otherwise, as they were the
bosom friends of my own. You will remember that I am
now eight-and-twenty, and that I had seen seven of these
years when you were born. Was my first effort in arms
never spoken of in your presence?"

" Never — perhaps it was not a subject for me to hear, if
it were in any manner connected with my parents."

" You are right — that must be the reason it has been kept
from your ears."

"Surely, surely, I am old enough to hear it now — you
will conceal nothing from me, Bob ?"

" If I would, I could not, now. It is too late, Maud. You
know the manner in which Major Meredith died ? — "

" He fell in battle, I have suspected," answered the daugh
ter, in a suppressed, doubtful tone — " for no one has ever
directly told me even that."

" lie did, and I was at his side. The French and ?,-.
made an assault on us, about an hour earlier than th;
our two fathers rushed to the pickets to repel it — I
reckless boy, anxious even at that tender age to sre a fray,
and was at their side. Your father was one of the fir
fell ; but Joyce and our father beat the Indians back from
his body, and saved it from mutilation. Your mother was
buried i'n the same grave, and then you came to us, where
our have been ever since."

1

8 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

•J I

Maud's tears flowed fast, and yet it was not so much in
grief as in a gush of tenderness she could hardly explain to
herself. Robert Willoughby understood her emotions, and
perceived that he might proceed.

" I was old enough to remember both your parents well —
I was a favourite, I believe, with, certainly was much petted
by, both — I remember your birth, Maud, and was suffered
to carry you in my arms, ere you were a week old."

" Then you have known me for an impostor from the be
ginning, Bob — must have often thought of me as such !"

" I have known you for the daughter of Lewellen Mere
dith, certainly ; and not for a world would I have you the
real child of Hugh Willoughby "

"Bob!" exclaimed Maud, her heart beating violently, a
rush of feeling nearly overcoming her, in which alarm, con
sciousness, her own secret, dread of something wrong, and
a confused glimpse of the truth, were all so blended, as
nearly to deprive her, for the moment, of the use of her
senses.

It is not easy to say precisely what would have followed
this tolerably explicit insight into the state of the young
man's feelings, had not an outcry on the lawn given the
major notice that his presence was needed below. With a
few words of encouragement to Maud, first taking the pre
caution to extinguish the lamp, - lest its light should expose
her to a shot in passing some of the open loops, he sprang
towards the stairs, and was at his post again, literally within
a minute. Nor was he a moment too soon. The alarm
was general, and it was understood an assault was moment
arily expected.

The situation of Robert Willoughby was now tantalizing
in the extreme. Ignorant of what was going on in front,
he saw no enemy in the rear to oppose, and was condemned
to inaction, at a moment when he felt that, by training,
years, affinity to the master of the place, and all the usual
considerations, he ought to be in front, opposed to the enemy.
It is probable he would have forgotten his many cautions to
keep close, had not Maud appeared in the library, and im
plored him to remain concealed, at least until there was the
certainty his presence was necessary elsewhere.

At that instant, every feeling but those connected with the

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 9

danger, was in I I forgotten. Still, Willoughby had

it consideration for Maud to insist on her joining her
moihiT and Benlah, in the portion of the building whore the
absence of external windows rendered their security com
plete, so lonur as the foe could be kept without the palisades.
In this he succeeded, but not until he had promised, again
and aufain, to be cautious in not exposing himself at any of
the windows, the day having now fairly dawned, and parti
cularly not to let it be known in the Hut that he was present
until it became indispensable.

The major felt relieved when Maud had left him. For
her, he had no longer any immediate apprehensions, and ho
turned all his faculties to the sounds of the assault which
he supposed to be going on in front. To his surprise, how
ever, no discharges of fire-arms succeeded ; and even the.
cries, and orders, and calling from point to point, that are a
little apt to succeed an alarm in an irregular garrison, had
entirely ceased ; and it became doubtful whether the whole
commotion did not proceed from a false alarm* The Smashes,
in particular, whose vociferations for the first few minutes
had been of a very decided kind, were now mute ; and the
•nations of the women and children had ceased.

Major VVilloughby was too good a soldier to abandon his
v. ithout orders, though bitterly did he regret the facility
with which he had consented to accept so inconsiderable a
command. He so far disregarded his instructions, however,
as to place his whole person before a window, in order to
reconnoitre ; for it was now broad day-light, though the sun
had not yet risen. Nothing rewarded this careless exposure;
and then it Hashed upon his mind that, as the commander
of a separate detachment, ho had a perfect right to employ
any of his immediate subordinates, cither a- nvs<' -in.
scouts. His choice of an agent was somewhat limited, it is
true, lying between Mike and the Plinys; after a moment
of reflection, he determined to choose the former.

Mike was duly relieved from his station at the door, the
younger Pliny l»emg substituted for him, and he was led
into the library. II«-re he received hasty but clear orders
fr-un the major how he was to proceed, and was thrust,
rather than conducted from the room, in his superior's haste
to hear the tidings. Three or four minutes might have

10 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

elapsed, when an irregular volley of musketry was heard in
front ; then succeeded an answering discharge, which sound-
ed smothered and distant. A single musket came from the
garrison a minute later, and then Mike rushed into the library,
his eyes dilated with a sort of wild delight, dragging rather
than carrying his piece after him.

" The news !" exclaimed the major, as soon as he got a
glimpse of his messenger. " What mean these volleys,
and how comes on my father in front ?"

"Is it what do they mane?" answered Mike. "Well,
there 's but one maning to powther and ball, and that 's far
more sarious than shillelah wor-r-k. If the rapscallions
didn't fire a whole plathoon, as serjeant Joyce calls it, right
at the Knoll, my name is not Michael O'Hearn, or my na
ture one that dales in giving back as good as I get."

" But the volley came first from the house — why did my
father order his people to make the first discharge ?"

" For the same r'ason that he didn't. Och ! there was a
big frown on his f'atures, when he heard the rifles and
muskets ; and Mr. Woods never pr'ached more to the pur
pose than the serjeant himself, ag'in that same. But to think
of them rapscallions answering a fire that was ag'in orders !
Not a word did his honour say about shooting any of them,
and they just pulled their triggers on the house all the same
as if it had been logs growing in senseless and uninhabited
trees, instead of a rational and well p'apled abode. Och !
ar'n't they vagabonds !"

" If you do not wish to drive me mad, man, tell me clearly
what has past, that I may understand you."

"Is it understand that's wanting? — Lord, yer honour,
if ye can understand that Misther Strhides, that 's yon, ye '11
be a wise man. He calls hisself a ' son of the poor'atin's,'
and poor 'ating it must have been, in the counthry of hig
faders, to have produced so lane and skinny a baste as that
same. The orders was as partic'lar as tongue of man could
utter, and what good will it all do? — Ye 're not to fire, says
serjeant Joyce, till ye all hear the wor-r-d ; and the divil of
a wor-r-d did they wait for; but blaze away did they, list
becaase a knot of savages comes on to them rocks ag'in,
where they had possession all yesterday afthernoon ; and
sure it is common enough to breakfast where a man sups.'*

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 11

" You mean to say that tho Indians have reappeared on
the rucks, and tha; Ics's men them,

without orders ? — i

"It's ji.st that, inujjor; and little good, or little har-r-m,
did it do. Joel, and his pnor'utin's, blazed away at 'cm, as
il' they had been so many Christians — and 'twould have done
yer heart good to have heard the scrjcant belabour
with h«rd \vor-r-ds, lor their throuble. 'There's none of tho
poor'atin' family in the scrjcant, who 's a mighty man wid
his tongue !"

" And the savages returned the volley — which explains
the distant discharge I heard."

" Anyb« .jjor, that ye 're yer father's son,

and a squtdier bor-r-n. Och ! who would of t'ought of that,
but one bred and bor-r-n in the army? Yes; the savages
sent back as good as they got, which was jist not'in' at all,
scein' that no one is har-r-m'd."

"And the single piece that followed — there was one dis
charge, by itself f

Mike opened his mouth with a grin that might have put

either of the Plinys to shame, it being rather" a favourite

theory with the descendants of the puritans — or " poor'a-

as the county Leitrim-man called Joc-l and his set —

that the Irishman was more than a match for any son of

Ham at the Knoll, in the way of capacity about this portion

of the human countenance. "The major saw that there was

a good deal of self-felicitation in the expression of Mike's

, and he demanded an explanation in more direct

terms.

" Twas I did it, majjor, and 'twas as well fired a piece
as ye've ever hear-r-d in the king's sarvioe. Divil bur-r-n
me, if I lets Joel get any such advantage, over me, as to
a whole battle to himself. No — no — as soon as I
smelt his Yankee powther, and could get my own r..
cock'd, and pointed out of the forlhifications, I If
it, as if it had been so much breakfast ready cooked to their
hands. *T\vns well pointed, too; for I'm not the man to
shoot into a fri'nd's countenance."

" And you broke the orders for a reason no better than
the fact that Strides had broken them before?"

12 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" Divil a bit, majjor — Joel had bj'oken the orders, ye seev
and that settled the matter. The thing that is once broken
is broken, and wor-r-ds can't mend it, any more than for-
bearin' to fire a gun will mend it."

By dint of cross-questioning, Robert Willoughby finally
succeeded in getting something like an outline of the truth
from Mike. The simple facts were, that the Indians had
taken possession of their old bivouac, as soon as the day
dawned, and had commenced their preparations for break
fast, when Joel, the miller, and a few of that set, in a pa
roxysm of valour, had discharged a harmless volley at
them ; the distance rendering the attempt futile. This fire
had been partially returned, the whole concluding with the
finale from the Irishman's gun, as has been related. As it
was now too light to apprehend a surprise, and the ground
in front of the palisade had no very dangerous covers, Ro
bert Willoughby was emboldened to send one of the Plinys
to request an interview with his father. In a few minutes
the latter appeared, accompanied by Mr. Woods.

" The same party has reappeared, and seems disposed to
occupy its old position near the mill," said the captain, in
answer to his son's inquiries. " It is difficult to say what
the fellows have in view ; and there are moments when I
think there are more or less whites among them. I suggested
as much to Strides, chaplain ; and I thought the fellow ap
peared to receive the notion as if he thought it might be
true."

" Joel is a little of an enigma to me, captain Willoughby,"
returned the chaplain ; " sometimes seizing an idea like a
cat pouncing upon a rat, and then coquetting with it, as the
same cat will play with a mouse, when it has no appetite
for food."

" Och ! he 's a .precious poor'atin' !" growled Mike, from
his corner of the room.

"If whites are among the savages, why should they not
make themselves known ?" demanded Robert \Villoughby.
" Your character, sir, is no secret ; and they must be ac
quainted with their own errand here."

" I will send for Strides, and get his opinion a little more
freely," answered the captain, after a moment of delibera
tion. " You will withdraw, Bob ; though, by leaving your

THE II U T T T. D K N O L L . 13

door n little ajar, the conversation will reach you ; and pre
vent the n.-rrssity of a repetition."

As Robert Willoughby was not unwilling to hear what
the overseer mi^ht have to say in the present state of things,
he did not hesitate about complying, withdrawing into his
own room as requested, and leaving the door ajar, in a way
to prevent suspicion of his presence, as far as possible. But,
Joel Strides, like all bad men, ever suspected the worst. The
innocent and pure of mind alone are without distrust; while
one constituted morally, like the overseer, never permitted his
thoughts to remain in the tranquillity that is a fruit of confi-
. Conscious of his own evil intentions, his very nature
put on armour against the same species of machinations in
others, as the hedge-hog rolls himself into a ball, and thrusts
out his quills, at the sight of the dog. Had not captain
Willouiihby been one of those who arc slow to see evil, he
might have detected something wrong in Joel's feelings, by
the very first glance he cast about him, on entering the
library.

In point of fact, Strides' thoughts had not been idle since
the rencontre of the previous night. Inquisitive, and under
none of the usual restraints of delicacy, he had already
probed all he dared approach on the subject; and, by this
time, had become perfectly assured that there was some
mystery about the unknown individual whom he had met in
his master's company. To own the truth, Joel did not sus
pect that major Willoughby had again ventured so far into
the lion's den ; but he fancied that some secret agent of the
i was at the Hut, and that the circumstance offered a
fair opening for helping the captain down the ladder of
public favour, and to push himself up a few of its rounds.
He was not sorry, therefore, to be summoned to this confer*
enrf, hoping it might lead to some opening for farther dis
cover

"Sit down, Strides" — said captain Willoughby, motion
ing towards a chair so distant from the open door of tlr:
Ix-d-roorn, and so placed as to remove th<« dinner of too
a proximity — " Sit down — I wish to consult you about
the state of things towards the mills. To m" it seems as
if there were more pale-faces than red-skins among our
vipiters."

VOL. II. — 2

14 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" That 's not onlikely, captain— the people has got to bo
greatly given to paintin' and imitatin', sin' the hatchet has
been dug up ag'in the British. The tea-boys were all in
Indian fashion."

" True ; but, why should white men assume such a dis
guise to come to the Knoll 1 I am not conscious of having
an enemy on earth who could meditate harm to me or
mine."

Alas ! poor captain. That a man at sixty should yet
have to learn that the honest, and fair-dealing, and plain-
dealing, and affluent — for captain Willoughby was affluent
in the eyes of those around him — that such a man should
imagine he was without enemies, was to infer that the Spirit
of Darkness had ceased to exercise his functions among
men. Joel knew better, though he did not perceive any
necessity, just then, for letting the fact reach the ears of the
party principally concerned.

" A body might s'pose the captain was pop'lar, if any
man is pop'lar," answered the overseer ; " nor do I know
that visiters in paint betoken onpopularity to a person in
these times more than another. May I ask why the captain
consails these Injins a'nt Injins? To me, they have a des
perate savage look, though I a'n't much accustomed to red
skin usages."

" Their movements are too open, and yet too uncertain,
for warriors of the tribes. I think a savage, by this time,
would have made up his mind to act as friend or foe."

Joel seemed struck with the idea ; and the expression of
his countenance, which on entering had been wily, distrust
ful and prying, suddenly changed to that of deep reflection.

" Has the captain seen anything else, particular, to con.
firm this idee ?" he asked.

" Their encampment, careless manner of moving, and
unguarded exposure of their persons, are all against their
being Indians."

" The messenger they sent across the meadow, yester
day, seemed to me to be a Mohawk ?"

*' He was. Of Ids being a real red-skin there can be no
question. But he could neither speak nor understand Eng
lish. The little that passed between us was in Low Dutch.
Our dialogue was short ; for, apprehensive of treachery, I

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 15

brought it to a close sooner than I might otherwise have

"Yes; trrachery is a cruel thing," observed the con-
scit utious Joel ; " a man can't be too strongly on his guard
iiir'in it. Docs the captain ra'ally calcilate on defending the
house, should a serious attempt be brought forward ibr the
day .'"

" Do I ! That is an extraordinary question, Mr. Strides.
Why have I built in this mode, if I have no such intention?
— why palisaded ? — why armed and garrisoned, if not in
earnest .'"

" I s'posed all this might have been done to prevent a
surprise, but not in any hope of standin' a siege. I should
be sorry to see all our women and children shut up under
one roof, if the inimy came ag'in us, in airnest, with fire and
sword."

" And I should be sorry to see them anywhere else. But,
this is losing time. My object in sending for you, Joel, was
to learn your opinion about the true character of our visitors.
Have you any opinion, or information to give me, on that
point?"

Joel placed his elbow on his knee, and his chin in the
palm of his hand, and pondered on what had been suggested,
with seeming good-will, and great earnestness.

" If anv one could be found venturesome enough to go
out with a flag," he at length remarked, " the whole truth
might be come at, in a few minutes."

" And who shall I employ ? Cheerfully would I go my-
self, were such a step military, or at all excusable in one in
my situation."

" If the likes of myself will sarve yer honour's turn," put
in Mike, promptly, and yet with sufficient diffidence as re-
garded his views of his own qualifications — "there'll bo
nobody to gainsay that same ; and it isn't wilcome that I
nade tell you, ye*'ll be to use me as ye would yer own pro
perty."

" I hardly think Mike would answer," observed Joel, not
altogether without a sneer. " He scurce knows an Indian
from a white man ; when it comes to the paint, it would
throw him into dreadful confusion."

" If ye thinks that I am to be made to believe in any more

16 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

Ould Nicks, Misther Strhides, then ye 're making a mistake
in my nature. Let but the captain say the word, and I '11
go to the mill and bring in a grist of them same, or 1'ave
my own body for toll."

" I do not doubt you in the least, Mike," captain Wil-
loughby mildly observed ; " but there will be no occasion,
just now, of your running any such risks. I shall be able
to find other truce-bearers."

" It seems the captain has his man in view," Joel said,
keenly eyeing his master. " Perhaps 't is the same I saw
out with him last night. That's a reliable person, I do
s'pose."

" You have hit the nail on the head. It was the man who
was out last night, at the same time I was out myself, and
his name is Joel Strides."

" The captain's a little musical, this morning — waal — if
go I must, as there was two on us out, let us go to these
savages together. I saw enough of that man, to know he
is reliable; and if he'll go, I'll go."

" Agreed" — said Robert Willoughby, stepping into the
library — " I take you at your word, Mr. Strides ; you and I
will run what risks there may be, in order to relieve this
family from its present alarming state."

The captain was astounded, though he knew not whether
to be displeased or to rejoice. As for Mike, his countenance
expressed great dissatisfaction ; for he ever fancied things
were going wrong so long as Joel obtained his wishes.
Strides, himself, threw a keen glance at the stranger, recog
nised him at a glance, and had sufficient self-command to
conceal his discovery, though taken completely by surprise.
The presence of the major, however, immediately removed
all his objections to the proposed expedition; since, should
the party prove friendly to the Americans, he would be safe
on his own account ; or, should it prove the reverse, a king's
officer could not fail to be a sufficient protection.

" The gentleman 's a total stranger to me," Joel hypocri
tically resumed ; " but as the captain has belief in him, I
must have the same. I am ready to do the ar'n'd, therefore,
as soon as it is agreeable."

" This is well, captain Willoughby," put in the major, in
order to anticipate any objections from his father ; " and the

THE HUTTED KNOLL

17

sooner a thing of this sort is done, the better will it be for
all concerned. I am ready to proceed this instant; and I
take it this worthy man — 1 think you called him Strides-
is quite as willing/'

Joel signified his assent; and the captain, perceiving no
means of rctivaf, was lain to yield. lie took the major
into the bed-room, however, and held a minute's private
discourse, when he returned, and bade the two go forth to
gether.

" Your companion has his instructions, Joel," the captain
observed, as they left the library together ; " and you will
follow his advice. Show the white flag as soon as you quit
the gate; if they are true warriors, it must be respected."

Robert Willoughby was too intent on business, and too
fearful of the reappearance and reproachful looks of Maud,
to delay. He had passed the court, and was at the outer
gate, before any of the garrison even noted his appearance
among them. Here, indeed, the father's heart felt a pang ;
and, but for his military pride, the captain would gladly
have recalled his consent. It was too late, however; and,
squeezing his hand, he suffered his son to pass outward.
Joel followed steadily, as to appearances, though not without
misgivings as to what might be the consequences to himself
and his growing famHy.

18 THE HUTTED KNOLL

CHAPTER II.

** I worship not the sun at noon,
The wandering stars, the changing moon,
The wind, the flood, the flame;
I will not bow the votive knee
To wisdom, virtue, liberty;
There is no god, but God for me,
Jehovah is his name."

MONTGOMERY.

So sudden and unexpected had been the passage of Robert
Willoughby through the court, and among the men on post
without the inner gates, that no one recognised his person.
A few saw that a stranger was in their midst ; but, under
his disguise, no one was quick enough of eye and thought
to ascertain who that stranger was. The little white flag
that they displayed, denoted the errand of the messengers ;
the rest was left to conjecture.

As soon as captain Willoughby ascertained that the alarm
of the morning was not likely to lead to any immediate re
sults, he had dismissed all the men, with the exception of a
small guard, that was stationed near the outer gate, under
the immediate orders of serjeant Joyce. The latter was one
of those soldiers who view the details of the profession as
forming its great essentials ; and when he saw his com
mander about to direct a sortie, it formed his pride not to
ask questions, and to seem to know nothing about it. To
this, Jamie Allen, who composed one of the guard, quietly
assented ; but it was a great privation to the three or four
New England-men to be commanded not to inquire into the
why and wherefore.

" Wait for orders, men, wait for orders," observed the
serjeant, by way of quieting an impatience that was very
apparent. " If his honour, the captain, wished us to be ac
quainted with his movements, he would direct a general
parade, and lay the matter before us, as you know he always

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 19

docs, on proper occasions. 'Tis a flag going out, as you
can see, and should a truce follow, we'll lay aside our
muskets, and seize the plough-shares ; should it be a capi
tulation — I know our brave old commander too well to
suppose it possible — but should it be even that, we '11 ground
arms like men, and make the best of it."

" And should Joel, and the other man, who is a stranger
to me, be scalped ?" demanded one of the party.

"Then we'll avenge their scalps. That was the way
with us, when my Lord Howe fell — < avenge his death !'
cried our colonel ; and on we pushed, until near two thou
sand of us fell before the Frenchmen's trenches. Oh ! that
was a sight worth seeing, and a day to talk of!"

" Yes, but you were threshed soundly, serjeant, as I 've
heard from many that were there."

"What of that, sir! we obeyed orders. * Avenge his
death !' was the cry ; and on we pushed, in obedience, until
there were not men enough left in our battalion to carry the
wounded to the rear."

" And what did you do with them?" asked a youth, who
regarded the serjeant as another Caesar — Napoleon not
having come into notice in 1776.

" We let them lie where they fell. Young man, war
teaches us all the wholesome lesson that impossibilities are
impossible to be done. War is the great schoolmaster of the
human race; and a learned man is he who has made nine
teen or twenty campaigns."

" If he live to turn his lessons to account" — remarked the
first speaker, with a sneer.

" If a man is to die in battle, sir, he had better die with
his mind stored with knowledge, than be shot like a dog
that has outlived his usefulness. Every pitched battle car
ries out of the world learning upon learning that ha^
got in the field. Here comes his honour, who will confirm
all I tell you, men. I was letting these men, sir, und'-
that the army and the field are the best schools on earth.
Kvcry old soldier will stick to that, your honour."

" \Ve are apt to think so, Joyce — have the arms been in
spected this morning?"

" As soon as it was light, I did that myself, sir."

" Flints, cartridge-boxes, and bayonets, I hope ?"

20 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" Each and all, sir. Does your honour remember the
morning we had the affair near Fort du Quesne?"

"You mean Braddock's defeat, I suppose, Joyce?"

" I call nothing a defeat, captain Willoughby. We were
roughly handled that day, sir ; but I am not satisfied it was
a defeat. It is true, we fell back, and lost some arms and
stores ; but, in the main, we stuck to our colours, consider
ing it was in the woods. No, sir ; I do not call that a de
feat, by any means."

" You will at least own we were hard pressed, and might
have fared worse than we did, had it not been for a certain
colonial corps, that manfully withstood the savages?"

" Yes, sir ; that I allow. I remember the corps, and its
commander, a colonel Washington, with your honour's per
mission."

" It was, indeed, Joyce. And do you happen to know
what has became of this same colonel Washington ?"

" It never crossed my mind to inquire, sir, as he was a
provincial. I dare say he may have a regiment — or even
a brigade by this time ; and good use would he make of
either."

" You have fallen far behind his fortunes, Joyce. The
man is a commander-in-chief — a captain-general."

" Your honour is jesting — since many of his seniors are
still living."

" This is the man who leads the American armies, in the
war with England."

" Well, sir, in that way, he may indeed get a quick step,
or two. I make no doubt, sir, so good a soldier will know
how to obey orders."

" From which I infer you think him right, in the cause
he has espoused ?"

"Bless yoqr honour, sir, I think nothing about it, and
care nothing about it. If the gentleman has taken service
with congress, as they call the new head-quarters, why he
ought to obey congress ; and if he serve the king, His Ma
jesty's orders should be attended to."

" And, in this crisis, serjeant, may I ask in what particu
lar service you conceive yourself to be, just at the present
moment ?"

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 21

" Captain Willoughby's, late of His Majesty's th

incut of Foot, at your honour's command."

" If all act in the same spirit, Joyce, we shall do well
enough at the Knoll, though twice as many savages hrav?
us as are to be seen on yon rocks," returned the captain,
smiling.

"And why should they no?" demanded Jamie Allen,
earnestly. " Ye 're laird here, and we 've no the time, nor
the grace, to study and understand the orthodoxy and he
terodoxy of the quarrel atween the House of Hanover and
the houses of these Americans ; so, while we a' stand up
for the house and household of our old maistcr, the Lord
will smile on our efforts, and lead us to victory."

" Divil bur-r-n me, now, Jamie," said Mike, who having
seen the major to the gate, now followed his father, in
readiness to do him any good turn that might offer — " Divil
bur-r-n me, now, Jamie, if ye could have said it better had
ye just aised yer conscience to a proper praist, and were
talking on a clanc breast ! Stick up for the captain, says I,
and the Lord will be of our side!"

The serjcant nodded approbation of this sentiment, and
the younger Pliny, who happened also to be within hearing,
uttered the sententious word " gosh," and clenched his fist,
which was taken as proof of assent also, on his part. But,
the Americans of the guard, all of whom were the tools of
Joel's and the miller's arts, manifested a coldness that even
exceeded the usual cold manner of their class. These men
meant right; but they had been deluded by the falsehoods,
machinations, and frauds of a demagogue, and were no
longer masters of their own opinions or acts. It struck the
captain that something was wrong ; but, a foreigner by birth
himself, he had early observed, and long known, the pecu
liar exterior and phlegm of the people of the country, which
so nearly resemble the stoicism of the aborigines, as to in
duce many writers to attribute both alike to a cause con
nected with climate. The present was not a moment how
ever, nor was the impression strong enough to induce the
master of the place to enter into any inquiries. Turning
his eyes in the direction of the two bearers of the flag, he
there beheld matter for new interest, completely diverting
his thoughts from what had just passed.

22 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" I see they have sent two men to meet our messengers,
serjeant," he said — " This looks as if they understood the
laws of war."

" Quite true, your honour. They should now blindfold
our party, and lead them within their own works, before
they suffer them to see at all ; though there would be no
great advantage in it, as Strides is as well acquainted with
every inch of that rock as I am with the manual exercise."

" Which would seem to supersede the necessity of the
ceremony you have mentioned?"

" One never knows, your honour. Blindfolding is accord
ing to the rules, and I should blindfold a flag before I let
him approach, though the hostile ranks stood drawn up, one
on each side of a parade ground. Much is gained, while
nothing is ever lost, by sticking to the rules of a trade."

The captain smiled, as did all the Americans of the guard;
the last having too much sagacity not to perceive that a
thing might be overdone, as well as too little attended to.
As for Jamie and Mike, they both received 'the Serjeant's
opinions as law ; the one from having tried the troops of the
iine at Culloden, and the other on account of divers expe
riences through which he had gone, at sundry fairs, in his
own green island. By this time, however, all were too
curious in watching the result of the meeting, to continue
the discourse.

Robert Willoughby and Joel had moved along the lane,
towards the rocks, without hesitating, keeping their little
flag flying. It did not appear that their approach produced
any change among the savages, who were now preparing
their breakfasts, until they had got within two hundred yards
of the encampment, when two of the red-men, having first
laid aside their arms, advanced to meet their visiters. This
was the interview which attracted the attention of those at
the Hu% and Its progress was noted with the deepest in
terest.

The meeting appeared to be friendly. After a short con
ference, in which signs seemed to be a material agent in the
communications, the four moved on in company, walking
deliberately towards the rocks. Captain Willoughby had
sent for his field-glass, and could easily perceive much that
occurred in the camp, on the arrival of his son. The major's

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 23

movements were calm and steady, and a feeling of pride
passed over the father's heart, as hi; noted this, amid a
scene that was well adapted to disturbing the equilibrium
of the firmest mind. Joel certainly betrayed nervousness,
though he kept close at his companion's side, and together
they proceeded into the very centre of the party of strangers.

The captain observed, also, that this arrival caused no
visible sensation among the red-men. Even those the major
almost touched in passing did not look up to note his ap
pearance, while no one seemed to speak, or in any manner
to heed him. The cooking and other preparations for tho
breakfast proceeded precisely as if no one had entered the
camp. The two who had gone forth to meet the flag alone
attended its bearers, whom they led through the centre of
the entire party ; stopping only on the side opposite to the
Hut, where there was an open space of flat rock, which it
had not suited the savages to occupy.

Here the four halted, the major turning and looking back
like a soldier who was examining his ground. Nor did any
one appear disposed to interrupt him in an employment
that serjeant Joyce pronounced to be both bold and against
the usages of war to permit. The captain thought the
stoicism of the savages amounted to exaggeration, and it
renewed his distrust of the real characters of his visitors.
In a minute or two, however, some three or four of the red-
men were seen consulting together apart, after which they
approached the bearers of the flag, and some communica
tions passed between the two sides. The nature of these
communications could not be known, of course, though the
conference appeared to be amicable. After two or three
minutes of conversation, Robert Willoughby, Strides, the
two men who had advanced to meet them, and the four
chiefs who had joined the group, left the summit of the
rock in company, taking a foot-path that descended in the
direction of the mills. In a short time they all disappeared
in a body.

The distance was not so great but these movements could
easily be seen by the naked eye, though the glass was ne
cessary to discover some of the details. Captain Willoughby
had planted the instrument among the palisades, and he kept
his gaze riveted on the retiring group as long as it was visi-

24 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

ble ; then, indeed, he looked at his companions, as if to read
their opinions in their countenances. Joyce understood the
expression of his face ; and, saluting in the usual military
manner, he presumed to speak, in the way of reply.

" It seems all right, your honour, the bandage excepted,"
said the serjeant. " The flag has been met at the outposts,
and led into the camp ; there the officer of the day, or some
savage who does the duty, has heard his errand ; and, no
doubt, they have all now gone to head-quarters, to report."

" I desired my son, Joyce "

"Whom, your honour — ?"

The general movement told the captain how completely
his auditors were taken by surprise, at this unlooked-for
announcement of the presence of the major at the Knoll. It
was too late to recall the words, however, and there was so
little prospect of Robert's escaping the penetration of Joel,
the father saw no use in attempting further concealment.

" I say I desired my son, major Willoughby, who is the
bearer of that flag," the captain steadily resumed, " to raise
his hat in a particular manner, if all seemed right ; or to
make a certain gesture with his left arm, did he see any
thing that required us to be more than usually on our
guard."

" And which notice has he given to the garrison, if it be
your honour's pleasure to let us know ?"

" Neither. I thought he manifested an intention to make
the signal with the hat, when the chiefs first joined him ; but
he hesitated, and lowered his hand without doing as I had
expected. Then, again, just as he disappeared behind the
rocks, the left arm was in motion, though not in a way to
complete the signal."

" Did he seem hurried, your honour, as if prevented from
communicating by the enemy?"

" Not at aH, Joyce. Irresolution appeared to be at the
bottom of it, so far as I could judge."

" Pardon me, your honour ; uncertainty would be a better
word, as applied to so good a soldier. Has major Willoughby
quitted the king's service, that he is among us, sir, just at
this moment ?"

" I will tell you his errand another time, serjeant. At
present, I can think only of the risk he runs. These In-

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 25

dians are lawless wretches ; one is never sure of theii
faith."

41 They are bad enough, sir ; but no man can well be so
bad as to disregard the rights of a flag," answered the ser-
jrant, in a grave and slightly important manner. " Even
the French, your honour, have always respected our fags "

"That is true; and, yet, I wish we could overlook that
position at the mill. It's a great advantage to them, Joyce,
that they can place themselves behind such a cover, when
th«-y choose !"

The scrjeant looked at the encampment a moment ; then
his eye followed the woods, and the mountain sides, that
skirted the little plain, until his back was fairly turned upon
the supposed enemy, and he faced the forest in the rear of
the Hut.

" If it be agreeable to your honour, a detachment can be
detailed to make a demonstration" — Joyce did not exactly
understand this word, but it sounded military — " in the fol
lowing manner : I can lead out the party, by the rear of
the house, using the brook as a covered-way. Once in the
woods, it will be easy enough to make a flank movement
upon the enemy's position ; after which, the detachment can
be guided by circumstances."

This was very martial in sound, and the captain felt well
assured that Joyce was the man to attempt carrying out his
own plan ; but he made no answer, sighing and shaking his
head, as he walked away towards the house. The chaplain
followed, leaving the rest to observe the savages.

" Ye're proposition, scrjeant, no seems to give his honour
much satisfaction," said the mason, as soon as his superior
was out of hearing. " Still, it was military, as I know by
what I saw mysal' in the Forty-five. Flainking, and sur
prising, and obsairving, and demonstrating, and such de
vices, are the soul of war, and are a' on the great highway
to victory. Had Chairlie's men obsairved, and particularised

of the pairty."
VOL. II. — 3

26 THE II U T T E D KNOLL.

"'I didn't think the captain much relished the notion of
being questioned about his son's feelin's, and visit up here,
at a time like this," put in one of the Americans.

" There 's bowels in the man's body !" cried Mike, " and
it isn't the likes of him that has no falin'. Ye don't know
what it is to be a father, or ye'd groan in spirit to see a
child of yer-own in the grip of fiery divils like them same.
Isn't he a pratty man, and wouldn't I be sorrowful to hear
that he had come to har-r-m ? Ye Ve niver asked, serjeant,
how the majjor got into the house, and ye a military sentry
in the bargain !"

" I suppose he came by command, Michael, and it is not
the duty of the non-commissioned officers to question their
superiors about anything that has happened out of the com
mon way. I take things as I find them, and obey orders.
I only hope that the son, as a field-officer, will not out-rank
the father, which would be unbecoming; though date of
commissions, and superiority, must be respected."

" I rather think if a major in the king's service was to
undertake to use authority here," said the spokesman of the
Americans, a little stiffly, " he wouldn't find many disposed
to follow at his heels."

" Mutiny would not fare well, did it dare to lift its head
in this garrison" — answered the serjeant, with a dignity that
might better have suited the mess-room of a regular regiment,
than the situation in which he was actually placed. " Both
captain Willoughby and myself have seen mutiny attempted,
but neither has ever seen it succeed."

" Do you ' look on us as lawful, enlisted soldiers ?" de
manded one of the labourers, who had a sufficient smattering
of the law, to understand the difference between a mercenary
and a volunteer. " If I 'm regimented, I should at least like
to know in whose service it is ?"

" Ye 're over-quick at yer objections and sentiments,"
said Jamie Allen, coolly, " like most youths, who see only
their ain experience in the airth, and the providence o' the
Lord. Enlisted we are, a' of us, even to Michael here, and
it 's in the sairvice of our good master, his honour captain
Willoughby ; whom, with his kith and kin, may the Lord
presairve from this and all other dangers."

The word master would, of itself, be very likely to create

TI1EIIUTT12D KNOLL. 27

a revolt to-day, in such a corps as it was the fortune of our
captain to command, though to that of " boss" there would
not be raised the slightest objection. lUit the Knglish lan
guage had not undergone half of its present mutations in
the year 177G; and no one winced in admitting that he
a " master,'' though the gorges of several rose at the
idea of being engaged in the service of any one, considered
in a military point of view. It is likely the suggestion of
the mason would have led to a hot discussion, had not a stir
among the savages, just at that instant, called off the atten
tion of all present, to matters of more importance than even
an angry argument.

The movement seemed to be general, and Joyce ordered
his men to stand to their arms ; still he hesitated about
giving the alarm. Instead of advancing towards the Hut,
however, the Indians raised a general yell, and went over
the cliffs, disappearing in the direction of the mill, like a
flock of birds taking wing together. After waiting half an
hour, in vain, to ascertain if any signs of the return of the
Indians were to be seen, the serjeant went himself to report
the state of things to his commander.

Captain Willoughby had withdrawn to make his toilet for
the day, when he saw the last of his son and the overseer.
While thus employed he had communicated to his wife all
that had occurred ; and Mrs. Willoughby, in her turn, had
told the same to her daughters. Maud was much the most
distressed, her suspicions of Joel being by far the most active
and the most serious. From the instant she learned what
had passed, she began to anticipate grave consequences to
Robert Willoughby, though she had sufficient fortitude, and
sufficient consideration for others, to keep most of her ap
prehensions to herself.

When Joyce demanded his audience, the family was at
breakfast, though little was eaten, and less was said. The
serjeant was admitted, and he told his story with military
precision.

" This has a suspicious air, Joyce," observed the captain,
after musing a little ; " to me it seems like an attempt to in
duce us to follow, and to draw us into an ambuscade."

" It may be that, your honour ; or, it may be a good ho
nest retreat. Two prisoners is a considerable exploit for

28 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

savages to achieve. I have known them count one a vie*
tory."

" Be not uneasy, Wilhelmina ; Bob's rank will secure
him good treatment, his exchange being far more important
to his captors, if captors they be, than his death. It is too
soon to decide on such a point, serjeant. After all, the In
dians may be at the mills, in council. On a war-path, all
the young men are usually consulted, before any important
step is taken. Then, it may be the wish of the chiefs to
impress our flag-bearers with an idea of their force."

" All that is military, your honour, and quite possible.
Still, to me the movement seems as if a retreat was intended,
in fact, or that the appearance of one was in view."

" I will soon know the truth," cried the chaplain. " I, a
man of peace, can surely go forth, and ascertain who these
people are, and what is their object."

" You, Woods ! My dear fellow, do you imagine a tribe
of blood-thirsty savages will respect you, or your sacred
office? You have a sufficient task with the king's forces,
letting his enemies alone. You are no missionary to still a
war-cry."

" I beg pardon, sir" — put in the serjeant — " his reverence
is more than half right" — here the chaplain rose, and quitted
the room in haste, unobserved by the two colloquists —
" There is scarce a tribe in the colony, your honour, that
has not some knowledge of our priesthood ; and I know of
no instance in which the savages have ever ill-treated a
divine."

" Poh, poh, Joyce ; this is much too sentimental for your
Mohawks, and Oneidas, and Onjndagas, and Tuscaroras.
They will care no more for little Woods than they care for
the great woods through which they journey on their infer
nal errands."

" One cannot know, Hugh" — observed the anxious mo
ther — " Our dear Robert is in their hands ; and, should Mr.
Woods be really disposed to go on this mission of mercy,
does it comport with our duty as parents to oppose it?"

"A mother is all mother" — murmured the captain, who
rose from table, kissed his wife's cheek affectionately, and
left the room, beckoning to the serjeant to follow.

Captain Willoughby had not been gone many minutes,

THE HUTTED K N O L L . 29

when the chaplain made his appearance, attired in his sur
plice, ami u curing his best wig ; an appliance that ail elderly
gentlemen in that day fancied necessary to the dignity and
gravity of their appi arance. .Mrs. Willoughby, to own the
truth, was delighted. If this excellent woman was ever
unjust, it was in behalf of her children ; solicitude for whom
sometimes induced her to overlook the rigid construction of
the laws of equality.

" We will see which best understands the influence of the
sanvd ofiice, captain Willoughby, or myself;" observed the
chaplain, with a little more importance of manner than it
was usual for one so simple to assume. " I do not believe
the ministry was instituted to be brow-beaten by tribes of
savages, any more than it is to be silenced by the unbe
liever, or schismatic."

It was very evident that the Rev. Mr. Woods was consi
derably excited ; and this was a condition of mind so unusual
with him, as to create a species of awe in the observers. As
for the two young women, deeply as they were interested
in the result, and keenly as Maud, in particular, felt every
thing which touched the fortunes of Robert Willoughby,
neither would presume to interfere, when they saw one
whom they had been taught to reverence from childhood,
acting in a way that so little conformed to his ordinary
manner. As for Mrs. WiUoughby, her own feelings were
so much awakened, that never had Mr. Woods seemed so
evangelical and like a saint, as at that very moment; and
it would not have been difficult to persuade her that he was
acting under something very like righteous superhuman im
pulses.

Such, however, was far from being the case. The worthy-
priest had an exalted idea of his office ; and, to fancy it
might favorably impress even savages, was little more than
; ng out his every-day notions of its authority. He con
scientiously believed that he, himself, a regularly ordained
presbyter, would be more likely to succeed in the under
taking before him, than a mere deacon ; were a bishop p re-
he would cheerfully have submitted to his superior
claims to sanctity and success. As for arch-bishops, arch
deacons, deans, rural deans, and all the other worldly ma
chinery which has been superaddcd to the church, the truth

30 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

compels us to add, that our divine felt no especial reverence,
since he considered them as so much clerical surplusage,
of very questionable authority, and of doubtful use. He
adhered strictly to the orders of divine institution ; to these
he attached so much weight, as to be entirely willing, in
his own person, to demonstrate how little was to be appre
hended, when their power was put forth, even against Indians,
in humility and faith.

" I shall take this sprig of laurel in my hand, in lieu of
the olive-branch," said the excited chaplain, " as the symbol
of peace. It is not probable that savages can tell one plant
from the other ; and if they could, it will be easy to explain
that olives do not grow in America. It is an eastern tree,
ladies, and furnishes the pleasant oil we use on our salads.
I carry with me, notwithstanding, the oil which proves a
balm to many sorrows ; that will be sufficient."

" You will bid them let Robert return to us, without de
lay?" said Mrs. Willoughby, earnestly.

" I shall bid them respect God and their consciences. I
cannot now stop to rehearse to you the mode of proceeding
1 shall adopt ; but it is all arranged in my own mind. It
will be necessary to call the Deity the ' Great Spirit' or
' Manitou' — and to use many poetical images ; but this can
I do, on an emergency. Extempore preaching is far from
agreeable to me, in general ; nor do I look upon it, in this
age of the world, as exactly canonical ; nevertheless, it shall
be seen I know how to submit even to that, when there is a
suitable necessity."

It was so seldom Mr. Woods used such magnificent ideas,
or assumed a manner in the least distinguishable from one
of the utmost simplicity, that his listeners now felt really
awed ; and when he turned to bless them, as he did with
solemnity and affection, the two daughters knelt to receive
his benedictions. These delivered, he walked out of the
room, crossed the court, and proceeded straightway to the
outer gate.

It was, perhaps, fortunate to the design of the Rev. Mr.
Woods, that neither the captain nor the serjeant was in the
way, to arrest it. This the former would certainly have
done, out of regard to his friend, and the last out of regard
to " orders." But these military personages were in the

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 3J

library, in deep consultation concerning the next step neces
sary to take. This left the coast clear, no one belonging to
the guard conceiving himself of sufficient authority to stop
the chaplain, more especially when he appeared in his wig
and surplice. Jamie Allen was a corporal, by courtesy ;
and, at the first summons, he caused the outer gate to be
unlocked and unbarred, permitting the chaplain to make
his egress, attended by his own respectfub bows. This Jamio
did, out of reverence to religion, generally; though the sur
plice ever excited his disgust ; and, as for the Liturgy, he
deemed it to be a species of solemn mockery of worship.

The captain did not reappear outside of the court, until
the chaplain, who had made the best of his way towards tho
rocks, was actually stalking like a ghost among ruins,
through the deserted shantees of the late encampment.

u What in the name of Indian artifice is the white animal
that I see moving about on the rocks ?" demanded the cap
tain, whose look was first turned in the direction of the
camp.

" It seems an Indian wrapped up in a shirt, your honour
— as I live, sir, it has a cocked hat on its head !"

" Na — na" — interrupted Jamie, " ye Ml no be guessing
the truth this time, without the aid of a little profane reve
lation. The chiel ye see yan, yer honour, is just chaplain
Woods."

« Woods— the devil !"

"Na — na — yer honour, it's the reverend gentleman,
hissel', and no the de'il, at a'. He's in his white frock —
though why he didn't wear his black gairment is more than
I can tell ye — but there he is, walking about amang the In
dian dwellings, all the same as if they were so many pews
in his ain kirk."

" And, how came you to let him pass the gate, against
orders?"

" Well, and it is aboot the orders of the priesthood, that
he so often preaches, and seeing him in the white gairment,
and knowing ye Jve so many fast-days, and Christmas', iu
the kirk o' England, I fancied it might be a bit matter o'
prayer he wished to offer up, yan, in the house on the flat ;
and so I e'en thought church prayers better than no prayers
at nil, in such a strait."

32 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

As it was useless to complain, the captain was fain to
submit, even beginning to hope some good might come of
the adventure, when he saw Mr. Woods walking unmolested
through the deserted camp. The glass was levelled, and
the result was watched in intense interest.

The chaplain first explored every shantee, fearlessly and
with diligence. Then he descended the rocks, and was lost
to view, like those who had preceded him. A feverish hour
passed, without any symptom of human life appearing in
the direction of the mills. Sometimes those who watched,
fancied they beheld a smoke beginning to steal up over the
brow of the rocks, the precursor of the expected conflagra
tion ; but a few moments dispersed the apprehension and
the fancied smoke together. The day advanced, and yet
the genius of solitude reigned over the mysterious glen.
Not a sound emerged from it, not a human form was seen
near it, not a sign of a hostile assault or of a friendly return
could be detected. All in that direction lay buried in silence,
as if the ravine had swallowed its tenants, in imitation of
the grave.

CHAPTER III.

To deck my list by Nature were design'd

Such shining1 expletives of human kind;

Who want, while through blank life they dream along,

Sense to be right, and passion to be wrong.

YOUNG.

THE disappearance of Mr. Woods occasioned no uneasi
ness at first. An hour elapsed before the captain thought it
necessary to relate the occurrence to his family, when a
general panic prevailed among the females. Even Maud
bad hoped the savages would respect the sacred character
of the divine, though she knew not why ; and here was one
of her principal grounds of hope, as connected with Robert
Willoughby, slid from beneath her feet.

" What can we do, Willoughby ?" asked the affectionate
mother, almost reduced to despair. " I will go myself, in

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 33

search of my son — they will respect me, a woman and a
mother."

" You little know the enemy we have to deal with, \Vil-
helmina, or so rash a thought could not have crossed your
mind. We will not be precipitate ; a few hours may bring
some change to direct us. One thing I learn from Woods'
delay. The Indians cannot be far oil', and he must be with
them, or in their halids ; else would he return after having
visited the mills and the houses beneath the cliffs."

This sounded probable, and all felt there was a relief in
fancying that their friends were still near them, and were
not traversing the wilderness as captives.

" I feel less apprehension than any of you," observed
Bculali, in her placid manner. " If Bob is in the hands of
an American party, the brother-in-law of Evert liftman
cannot come to much harm ; with British Indians he will
be respected for his own sake, as soon as he can make him
self known."

"I have thought of all this, my child" — answered the
father, musing — " and there is reason in it. It will be difti-
cult, however, for Hob to make his real character certain,
in his present circumstances. He does not appear the man
he is ; and should there even be a white among his captors
who can read, he has not a paper with him to sustain his
word."

" But, he promised me faithfully to use Evert's name,
did he ever fall into American hands" — resumed Beulah,
earnestly — " and Evert has said, again and again, that my
brother could never be his enemy."

u Heaven help us all, dear child !" answered the captain,
kissing his daughter — "It is, indeed, a cruel war, wh«-n
such aids are to be called in for our protection. We will
endeavour to be cheerful, notwithstanding; for we know of
nothing yet, that ought to alarm us, out of reason; all may
come right before the sun set."

The captain looked at his family, and endeavoured to
smile, but he met no answering gleam of happiness on either
face; nor was his own eiiort very siicrc^ful. As for his
wife, she was never known to be. atijrht but miserable, while
any she loved were in doubtful safety. She lived entirely
out of herself, and altogether for her husband, children, and

84 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

friends ; a woman less selfish, or one more devoted to the
affections, never existing. Then Beulah, with all her reli
ance on the magic of Evert's name, and with the deep feel
ings that had been awakened within her, as a wife and a
mother, still loved her brother as tenderly as ever. As for
Maud, the agony she endured was increased by her efforts
to keep it from breaking out in some paroxysm that might
betray her secret ; and her features were getting an expres
sion of stern resolution, which, blended with her beauty,
gave them a grandeur her father had never before seen in
her bright countenance.

" This child suffers on Bob's account more than any of
us" — observed the captain, drawing his pet towards him,
placing her kindly on his knee, and folding her to his
bosom. " She has no husband yet, to divide her heart ; all
her love centres in her brother."

The look which Beulah cast upon her father was not re
proachful, for that was an expression she would not have
indulged with him ; but it was one in which pain and mor
tification were so obvious, as to induce the mother to receive
her into her own arms.

"Hugh, you are unjust to Beulah" — said the anxious
mother—" Nothing can ever cause this dear girl, either, to
forget to feel for any of us."

The captain's ready explanation, and affectionate kiss,
brought a smile again to Beulah's face, though it shone amid
tears. All was, however, immediately forgotten ; for the
parties understood each other, and Maud profited by the
scene to escape from the room. This flight broke up the
conference ; and the captain, after exhorting his wife and
daughter to set an example of fortitude to the rest of the
females, left the house, to look after his duties among the
men.

The absence of Joel cast a shade of doubt over the minds
of the disaffected. These last were comparatively numerous,
comprising most of the native Americans in the Hut, the
blacks "and Joyce excepted. Strides had been enabled to
effect his purposes more easily with his own countrymen,
by working on their good qualities, as well as on their bad.
Many of these men — most of them, indeed — meant well ;
but their attachment to the cause of their native land laid

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 35

them open to assaults, aiiainst which Mike and Jamie All. n
w«'iv iusi-nsihlo. Captain \Villoughby was an Englishman,
in the first pirn- an old anny-ofliccr, in the next;

and lie had an only son who was confessedly in open arms
against the independence of America. It is easy to sec how
a demagogue like Joel, who had free access to the cars of
his comrades, could improve circumstances like these to his
own particular objects. Nevertheless, he had difficulties to
contend with. If it were true that parson Woods still in
sisted on praying for the king, it was known that the captain
laughed at him for his reverence for Caesar ; if Robert. Wil-
loughby were a major in the royal forces, Evert Beekman
was a colonel in the continentals ; if the owner of the manor
were born in England, his wife and children were born in
America ; and he, himself, was often heard to express his
convictions of the justice of most of that for which the pro
vincials were contending — all, the worthy captain had not
yet made up his mind to concede to them.

Then, most of the Americans in the Hut entertained none
of the selfish and narrow views of Joel and the miller. Their
wish was to do right, in the main ; and though obnoxious to
the charge of entertaining certain prejudices that rendered
them peculiarly liable to become the dupes of a demagogue,
they submitted to many of the better impulses, and were
indisposed to be guilty of any act of downright injustice.
The perfect integrity with which they had ever been treated,
too, had its influence ; nor was the habitual kindness of Mrs.
"Willoughby to their wives and children forgotten; nor tho
gentleness of Beulah, or the beauty, spirit, and generous
impulses of Maud. In a word, the captain, when he went
forth to review his men, who were now all assembled under
arms within the palisades for that purpose, went to meet a
wavering, rather than a positively disaffected or rebellious
body.

" Attention !" cried Joyce, as his commanding officer
came in front of a line which contained men of different
colours, statures, ages, dresses, countries, habits and phy
siognomies, making it a sort of epitome of the population of
the whole colony, as it existed in that day — " Attention !
Present, arms."

The captain pulled off his hat complacently, in return to

£5G THE HUTTED KNOLL.

this salute, though he was obliged to smile at the army
which met his eyes. Every one of the Dutchmen had got
his musket to an order, following a sort of fugleman of their
own ; while Mike had invented a " motion" that would have
puzzled any one but himself to account for. The butt of
the piece was projected towards the captain, quite out of
line, while the barrel rested on his own shoulder. Still, as
his arms were extended to the utmost, the county Leitrim-
man fancied he was performing much better than common.
Jamie had correct notions of the perpendicular, from having
used the plumb-bob so much, though even he made the
trifling mistake of presenting arms with the lock outwards.
As for the Yankees, they were all tolerably exact, in every
thing but time, and the line ; bringing their pieces down, one
after another, much as they were in the practice of follow
ing their leaders, in matters of opinion. The negroes defied
description; nor was it surprising they failed, each of them
thrusting his head forward to see how the " motions" look
ed, in a way that prevented any particular attention to his
own part of the duty. The serjeant had the good sense to
see that his drill had not yet produced perfection, and he
brought his men to a shoulder again, as soon as possible.
In this he succeeded perfectly, with the exception that just
half of the arms were brought to the right, and the other
half to the left shoulders.

" We shall do better, your honour, as we get a little more
drill" — said Joyce, with an apologetic salute — " Corporal
Strides has a tolerable idea of the manual, and he usually
acts as our fugleman. When he gets back, we shall im
prove."

"When he gets back, serjeant — can you, or any other
man, tell when that will be ?"

" Yes, yer honour," sputtered Mike, with the eagerness
of a boy. " I 'se-the man to tell yees that same."

" You 1 — What can you know, that is not known to all
of us, my good Michael ?"

" I knows what I sees ; and if yon isn't Misther Strhides,
then I am not acquainted with his sthraddle."

Sure enough, Joel appeared at the gate, as Mike concluded
his assertions. Flow he got there, no one knew ; for a good
look-out had been kept in the direction of the mill ; and, yet,

TUB HUTTED KNOLL. 37

here was the overseer applying for admission, as if lie had
fallen from the, clouds ! Of course, the application was not
denied, though made; in a manner so unexpected, and Joel
stood in front of his old comrades at the hoe and plough,
if not in arms, in less than a minute. His return was pro
claimed through the house in an incredibly short space of
time, by the aid of the children, and all the females came
pouring out from the court to learn the tidings, led by Mrs.
iStridt-s and her young brood.

" Have you anything to communicate to me in private,
s ?" the captain demanded, maintaining an appearance
of sang froid that lie was far from feeling — " or, can your
report be made here, before the whole settlement ?"

" It 's just as the captain pleases," answered the wily de
magogue; "though, to my notion, the people have a right
to know all, in an aiiair that touches the common interest."

" Attention ! men" — cried the serjeant — "By platoons,
to the right "

" No matter, Joyce," interrupted the captain, waving his
hand — " Let the men remain. You have held communica
tions with our visiters, I know, Strides ?"

" \Ve have, captain \Villoiighby, and a desperate sort of
visitors be they ! A more ugly set of Mohawks and Onon-
dagas 1 ii'-ver laid eyes on."

"As for their appearance, it is matter of indifference to
me — what is the object of their visit?"

" I mean ugly behaved, and they deserve all I say of 'em.
Their ar'nd, according to their own tell, is to seize tho
captain, and his family, in behalf of the colonies."

Joel uttered this, he cast a glance along the line of
paraded before him, in order to read the effect it might
produce. That it was not lost on some, was as evi-l
that it was on others. The captain, however, appeared tin-
moved, and there was a slight air of incredulity in the smile
that curled his lip.

u This, then, you report as being the business of the party
in coming to this place!" he said, quietly.

" I do, sir; and an ugly ar'nd it is, in" times like these."

" Is there any person in authority in a party that pretenda
to move about the colony, with such high duties?"

VOL. II. — 4

3S THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" There 's one or two white men among 'em, if that 's
what the captain means; they pretend to be duly authorised
and app'inted to act in behalf of the people."

At each allusion to the people, Joel invariably looked to
wards his particular partisans, in order to note the effect the
use of the word might produce. On the present occasion,
lie even ventured to wink at the miller.

" If acting on authority, why do they keep aloof? — I have
no such character for resisting the laws, that any who come
clothed with its mantle need fear resistance."

" Why, I s'pose they reason in some such manner as this.
There's two laws in operation at this time; the king's law,
and the people's law. I take it, this party comes in virtue
of the people's law, whereas it is likely the law the captain
means is the king's law. The difference is so great, that
one or t'other carries the day, just as the king's friends or
the people's friends happen to be the strongest. These men
don't like to trust to their law, when the captain may think
it safest to trust a little to his'n."

" And all this was told you, Strides, in order to be repeat
ed to me ?"

" Not a word on 't ; it 's all my own consait about the
matter. Little passed between us."

" And, now," said the captain, relieving his breast by a
long sigh, " I presume I may inquire about your companion.
You probably have ascertained who he is ?"

" Lord, captain Wiiloughby, I was altogether dumb
founded, when the truth came upon me of a sudden ! I
never should have known the major in that dress, in the
world, or out of the world either; but he walks so like the
captain, that as I followed a'ter him, I said to myself, who
can it be? — and then the walk came over me, as it might
be ; and then I remembered last night, and the stranger that
was out with the captain, and how he occupied the room
next to the library, and them things; and so, when I come
to look in his face, there was the major sure enough !"

Joel lied famously in this account ; but he believed him
self safe, as no one could very well contradict him.

" Now, you have explained the manner in which you re
cognised my son, Strides," added the captain, " I will thank
you to let me know what has become of him?"

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 3D

"He's with the savages. Having come so far to seize
the father, it wasn't in natur' to let the son go free, when
he walked right into the lion's don, like."

" And how could the s-iva«res know he was my son? Did
they, too, recognise the family walk ?"

Strides was taken aback at this question, and he even had
the grace to colour a little. He saw that lie was critically
placed ; for, in addition to the suggestions of conscience, he
understood the captain sufficiently to know he was a man
w ho would not trifle, in the event of his suspicions becoming
active. lie knew he deserved the gallows, and Joyce was
a man who would execute him in an instant, did his com
mander order it. The idea fairly made the traitor tremble
in his shoes.

" Ah ! I Ve got a little ahead of my story," he said,
hastily. «* But, perhaps I had best tell everything as it
happened — "

" That will be the simplest and clearest course. In order
that there be no interruption, we will go into my room,
whore Joyce will follow us, as soon as he has dismissed his
men."

This was done, and in a minute or two the captain and
Jorl were seated in the library, Joyce respectfully standing;
the old soldier always declining to assume any familiarity
with his superior. We shall give the substance of most of
Joel's report in our own language; preferring it, defective
as it is, to that of the overseer's, which was no bad repre
sentative of his cunning, treacherous and low mind.

It seems, then, that the bearers of the flag were amicably
received by the Indians. The men towards whom they were
led on the rocks, were the chiefs of the party, who treated
them with proper respect. The sudden movement was ex
plained to them, as connected with their meal; and the chiefs,
accompanied by the major and Strides, proceeded to tho
house of the miller. Here, by means of a white man for
an interpreter, the major had demanded tho motive of the
strangers in coming into tho settlement. The answer was
a frank demand for the surrender of the Hut, and all it con
tained, to the authorities of the continental congress. The
major had endeavoured to persuade a white man, who pro
fessed to hold the legal authority for what was doing, of the

40 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

perfectly neutral disposition of his father, when, according
to Joel's account, to his own great astonishment, the argu
ment was met by the announcement of Robert Willoughby's
true character, and a sneering demand if it were likely a
man who had a son in the royal army, and who had kept
that son secreted in his own house, would be very indifferent
to the success of the royal cause.

" They Ve got a wonderful smart man there for a magis
trate, I can tell you," added Joel, with emphasis, " and he
ra'ally bore as hard on the major as a lawyer before a court.
How he found out that the major was at the Hut is a little
strange, seein' that none of us know'd of it ; but they 've got
extraor'nary means, now-a-days."

" And, did major Willoughby admit his true character,
when charged with being in the king's service ?"

" He did — and like a gentleman. He only insisted that
his sole ar'nd out here was to see his folks, and that he in
tended to go back to York the moment he had paid his
visit."

" How did the person you mention receive his explana
tions ?"

" Waal, to own the truth, he laugh'd at it, like all natur'.
I don't believe they put any great weight on a syllable the
major told 'em. I never see critturs with such onbelievin'
faces ! After talking as long as suited themselves, they or
dered the major to be shut up in a buttery, with a warrior
at the door for a sentinel ; a'ter which they took to examin
ing me."

Joel then proceeded with an account — his own account,
always, be it remembered — of what passed between himself
and the strangers. They had questioned him closely touch
ing the nature of the defences of the Hut, the strength of the
garrison, its disposition, the number and quality of the arms,
and the amount of the ammunition.

" You may depend on 't, I gave a good account," conti
nued the overseer, in a self-satisfied way. " In the first
place, I told 'em, the captain had a lieutenant with him that
had sarved out the whull French war; then I put the men
up to fifty at once, seein' it was just as easy to say that, as
thirty or thirty-three. As to the arms, I told 'em more than
half the pieces were double-barrelled ; and that the captain,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 41

in particular, carried a rifle that had killed nine savages in
on<- light."

" You were much mistaken in that, Joel. It is '-rue, that
a celebrated chief once fell by this rifle ; even that is not a
matter for boasting."

" Waal, them that told me on't, said that two had fallen
before it, and I put it up to nine at once, to make a good
story better. Nine men had a more desperate sound than
two ; and when you do begin to brag, a man shouldn't be
backward. I thought, howsevcr, that they was most non
plussed, when I told 'em of the field-piece."

"The field-piece, Strides! — Why did you venture on an
exaggeration that any forward movement of theirs must
expi

"We'll sec to that, captain — we'll see to that. Field-
pieces are desperate dampers to Indian courage, so I thought
1 'd just let 'em have a six-pounder, by way of try in' their
natur's. They look'd like men go-in' to execution, when I
told 'em of the cannon, and what a history it had gone
through."

"And what may have been this history, pray?"

" I just told 'em it was the very gun the captain had took
from the French, about which we 've all heern tell ; and
that, as everybody knows, was a desperate piece, havin'
killed more than a hundred reg'lars, before the captain
chared bayonet on it, and carried it off."

This was a very artful speech, since it alluded to the most
distinguished exploit of captain Willoughby's military life ;
one of which it would have been more than human, had lie
not been a little proud. All who knew him, had heard of
this adventure, and Joel cunningly turned it to account, in
the manner seen. The allusion served to put to sleep, for
the moment at least, certain very unpleasant suspicions that
"were getting to be active in his superior's mind.

"There was no necessity, Strides, for saying anything
about that ailair" — the captain, modestly, interposed. " It
happened a long time since, and might well be forgotten.
Then, you know we have no gun to support your account;
when our deficiency is ascertained, it will all be set down
to the true cause — a wish to conceal our real weakness."
4*

42 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" I beg your honour's pardon," put in Joyce — " I think
Strides has acted in a military manner in this affair. It is
according to the art of war for the besieged to pretend to bo
stronger than they are ; and even besiegers sometimes put a
oetter face than the truth will warrant, on their strength.
Military accounts, as your honour well knows, never pass
exactly for gospel, unless it be with the raw hands."

" Then," added Joel, " I know'd what I was about, seein
that we had a cannon ready for use, as soon as it could be
- mounted."

" I think I understand Strides, your honour," resumed
the serjeant. " I have carved a ' quaker,' as an ornament
for the gateway, intending to saw it in two, in the middle,
and place the pieces, crosswise, over the entrance, as your
honour has often seen such things in garrisons — like the
brass ornaments on the artillery caps, I mean, your honour.
Well, this gun is finished and painted, and I intended to split
it, and have it up this very week. I suppose Joel has had
it in his mind, quaker fashion."

" The Serjeant's right. That piece looks as much like a
real cannon as one of our cathechisms is like another. The
muzzle is more than a foot deep, and has a plaguy gun
powder look !"

" But this gun is not mounted ; even if it were, it could
only be set up for show," observed the captain.

" Put that cannon up once, and I '11 answer for it that no
Injin faces it. 'Twill be as good as a dozen sentinels," an
swered Joel. " As for mountin', I thought of that before I
said a syllabl-e about the crittur. There's the new truck-
wheels in the court, all ready to hold it, and the carpenters
can put the hinder part to the whull, in an hour or two, and
that in a way no Injin could tell the difference between it
and a ra'al cannon, at ten yards."

" This is plausible, your honour," said Joyce, respect
fully, " and it shows that corporal Strides" — Joel insisted he
was a serjeant, but the real Simon Pure never gave htm a
title higher than that of corporal — " and it shows that cor
poral Strides has an idea of war. By mounting that piece,
and using it with discretion — refusing it, at the right mo
ment, and showing it at another — a great deal might be
done with it, either in a siege or an assault. If your honour

Till: IIITTKD KNOLL. 43

will excuse the liberty, I would n -sportfully suggest that it
might be well to set the quaker on his legs," and plailt him
at l ho gate, as an exhortcr."

The captain reflected a moim-nt, and then desired the
overseer to proceed in his account. The rest of Joel's story
was soon told. lie had mystified the strangers, according
to his own account of the matter, so thoroughly, by nlU-'-t-
ing to withhold nothing, that they considered him as a sort
of ally, and did not put him in confinement at all. It is
true, he was placed en surveillance / but the duty was so
carelessly performed, that, at the right moment, he had
passed down the ravine, a direction in which a movement
was not expected, and buried himself in the woods, so very
nil -dually that it would have baffled pursuit, had any been
attempted. After making a very long detour, that consumed
hours, he turned the entire valley, and actually reached the
Hut, under the cover of the rivulet and its bushes, or pre
cisely by the route in which he and Mike had gone forth, in
quest of Maud, the evening of the major's arrival. This
latter fact, however, Joel had reasons of his own for con-
cealing.

" You have told us nothing of Mr. Woods, Strides," the
captain observed, when Joel's account was ended.

" Mr. Woods ! I can tell the captain nothing of that gen
tleman ; I supposed he was here."

The manner in which the chaplain had left the Hut, and
his disappearance in the ravine, were then explained to the
overseer, who evidently had quitted the mill, on his return,
before the divine performed his exploit. There was a
sinister expression in Joel's eyes, as he heard the account,
that might have given the alarm to men more suspicious
than the two old soldiers; but he had the address to conceal
all he felt or thought.

" If Mr. Woods has gone into the hands of the Injins, in
his church shirt," rejoined the overseer, " his case is hope
less, so far as captivity is consarned. One of the charges
i the captain is, that the chaplain ho keeps prays as
regulairly for the king as ho used to do when it was lawful,
and agreeable to public foolin'."

" This you heard, while under examination before the
magistrate you have named?" demanded the captain.

44 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" As good as that, and something more to the same p'int.
The 'squire complained awfully of a minister's prayin' for
the king and r'yal family, when the country was fightin'
'em."

" In that, the Rev. Mr. Woods only obeys orders," said
the serjeant.

" But they say not. The orders is gone out, now, they
pretend, for no man to pray for any on 'em."

" Ay — orders from the magistrates, perhaps. But the
Rev. Mr. Woods is a divine, and has his own superiors ire
the church, and they must issue the commands that he obeys.
I dare to say, your honour, if the archbishop of Canterbury,
or the commander-in-chief of the church, whoever he may
be, should issue a general order directing all the parsons
not to pray for King George, the Rev. Mr. Woods would
have no scruple about obeying. But, it's a different thing
when a justice of the peace undertakes to stand fugleman
for the clergy. It's like a navy captain undertaking to
wheel a regiment."

" Poor Woods !" exclaimed the captain — " Had he been
ruled by me, he would have dropped those prayers, and it
would have been better for us both. But, he is of your
opinion, serjeant, and thinks that a layman can have no
authority over a gownsman."

" And isn't he right, your honour ! Think what a mess
of it the militia officers make, when they undertake to med
dle with a regular corps. Some of our greatest difficulties
in the last war came from such awkward hands attempting
to manage machines of which they had no just notions. As
for praying, your honour, I'm no wise particular who I pray
for, or what I pray for, so long as it be all set down in ge
neral orders that come from the right head-quarters ; and I
think the Rev. Mr. Woods ought to be judged by the same
rule."

As the captain saw no use in prolonging the dialogue, he
dismissed his companions. He then sought his wife, in
order to make her acquainted with the actual state of things.
This last was a painful duty, though Mrs. Willoughby and
her daughters heard the truth with less of apprehension
than the husband and father had anticipated. They had
suffered so much from uncertainty, that there was a relief

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 45

in learning the truth. The mother did not think the autho
rities of the colony would hurt her son, whom she fancied
all men must, in a (Krivo, love as she loved. Jlrulah thought
of her own husband as Bob's salt-guard; while Maud ll-lt it
to be comparative happinrs > to know he was unharmed, and
still so near her.

This unpleasant duty discharged, the captain hegan to
bethink him seriously of his military trust. After some
reflection, and listening to a few more suggestions from
Joyce, he consented to let the " quaker" be put on wheels.
The carpenters were immediately set at work to achieve
this job, which the serjeant volunteered to superintend, in
person. As for Joel, his wife and children, with the mil
ler, occupied most of the morning; the day turning, and
even drawing towards its close, ere he became visible,
as had formerly been his wont, among the men of the settle
ment.

All this time, everything without the palisades lay in the
silence of nature. The sun cast its glories athwart the lovely
scene, as in one of the Sabbaths of the woods ; but man
was nowh'-rr visible. Not a hostile Indian, or white, exhi
bited himself; and the captain began to suspect that, satis
fied with their captures, the party had commenced its return
towards the river, postponing his own arrest for some other
occasion. So strong did this impression become towards
the close of the day, that he was actually engaged in writing
to some friends of influence in Albany and on the Mohawk
to interpose their names and characters in his son's behalf,
wlu'ii the serjeant, about nine o'clock, the hour when he had
been ordered to parade the guard for tho first half of the
night, presented himself at the door of his room, to mako
an important report.

" What now, Joyce?" demanded the captain. " Are any
of our fellows s-leepy, and plead illness?"

"Worse than that, your honour, I greatly fear," was thn
answer. Of the ten men your honour commanded me to
detail for the guard, five are missing. I set them down as
deserters."

" Deserters ! — This is serious, indeed ; let the signal bo
made for a general parade — the people cannot yet have
gone to bed ; we will look into this."

46 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

As Joyce made it matter of religion " to obey orders,"
this command was immediately put in execution. In five
minutes, a messenger came to summon the captain to the
court, where the garrison was under arms. The serjeant
stood in front of the little party, with a lantern, holding his
muster-roll in his hand. The first glance told the captain
that a serious reduction had taken place in his forces, and
he led the serjeant aside to hear his report.

" What is the result of your inquiries, Joyce T' he de
manded, with more uneasiness than he would have liked to
betray openly.

" We have lost just half our men, sir. The miller, most
of the Yankees, and two of the Dutchmen, are not on pa
rade ; neither is one of them to be found in his quarters.
They have either gone over to the enemy, captain Willough-
by, or, disliking the appearance of things here, they have
taken to the woods for safety."

" And abandoned their wives and children, serjeant ! Men
would scarcely do that."

" Their wives and children have deserted too, sir. Not a
chick or child belonging to either of the runaways is to be
found in the Hut."

CHAPTER IV.

" For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead,
Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed and fled."

Richard III.

THIS was startling intelligence to receive just as night
had shut in, and under the other circumstances of the case.
Touching the men who still remained, captain Willoughby
conceived it prudent to inquire into their characters and
names, in order to ascertain the ground he stood on, and tc
govern his future course accordingly. He put the question
to the serjeant, therefore, as soon as he could lead him far
enough from the little array, to be certain he was out of
car-shot.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 47

"We have .Michael O'Hearn, Jamie Allen, the two car-
pcntcrs, the thn •• niters, Joel, and the three Dutchmen
that last mine into the settlement, and the two lads that
Strides engaged at the beginning of the year, left," was the
answer. " Those, counting your honour and myself, make
just fifteen men ; quite enough yet, I should think, to
make good the house, in case of an assault — though 1 lear
everything like an outwork must be abandoned. "

" On the whole, these are the best of our men," returned
the captain ; " I mean the most trustworthy. I count on
Mike, Jamie, and the blacks, as being as much to be relied
on as we are ourselves. Joel, too, is a man of resources,
if he will but do his duty under fire."

" Corporal Strides is still an untried soldier, your honour;
though recruits, even, sometimes do wonders. Of course, I
shall reduce the guard to half its former strength, as the
men must have some sleep, sir."

" We must depend very much on your vigilance and
mine, to-night, Joyce. You shall take the guard till one,
when I will stand it for the rest of the night. I will speak
to the men before you dismiss them. An encouraging word,
just now, may be worth a platoon to us."

The serjeant seldom dissented from any suggestion of his
commanding officer, and the scheme was carried out on the
spot. The lantern was so placed as to permit the captain to
see the heterogeneous row of countenances that was drawn
up before him, and he proceeded :

" It seems, my friends," he said, " that some of our people
have been seized with a panic, and have deserted. These
mistaken men have not only fled themselves, but they Invo
induced their wives and children to follow them. A little
reflection will show you to what distress all must be reduced
by this ill-judged flight. Fifty miles from another settlement
of any size, and more than thirty from even a single huf,
beyond the cabin of a hunter, days must pass before they
can reach a place of safety, even should they escape the
savage foe that we know to be scouring the woods. The
•n and children will not have sufficient art to conceal
their trail, nor sufficient strength to hold out against hunger
and fatigue many hours. God forgive them for what they
have done, and guide them through the difficulties and pains

48 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

by which they are menaced ! As for us, we must determine
to do our whole duty, or, at once to retire, with the consent
of each other. If there is a man among you, then, who
apprehends the consequences of standing to his arms, and
of defending this house, let him confess it frankly ; he shall
have leave to depart, with all that belongs to him, taking
food and the means of subsistence and defence with him. I
wish no man to remain with me and mine, but he who can
do it cheerfully. The night is now dark, and, by quitting
the Hut at an early hour, such a start might be gained over
any pursuers, as to place him in comparative security before
morning. If any such man is here, let him now speak out
honestly, and fear nothing. The gate shall be opened for
his march."

The captain paused, but not a soul answered. A common
sentiment of loyalty seemed to bind every one of the listeners
to his duty. The dark eyes of the negroes rolled along the
short rank to see who would be the first to desert their mas
ter, and grins of delight showed the satisfaction with
which they noted the effect of the appeal. As for Mike, he
felt too strongly to keep silence, and he muttered the passing
impnessions aloud.

" Och !" — growled the county Leitrim-man — " Is it a good
journey that I wish the runaways ? That it isn't, nor many
a good male either, as they trudge alang t'rough the woods,
with their own consciences forenent their eyes, pricking
them up to come back, like so many t'ieves of the wor-r-ld,
as they are, every mother's son of 'em, women and all. I 'd
nivir do that; no, not if my head was all scalp, down to the
soles of my fut, and an Injin was at every inch of it, to cut
out his summer clothes of my own skin. Talk of religion
amang sich cr'athures ! — Why, there isn't enough moral in
one of thim to carry him through the shortest prayer the
Lord allows a Christian to utter. Divil burn 'em say I, and
that's my kindest wish in their behalf."

The captain waited patiently for this soliloquy to termi
nate ; then he dismissed the men, with a few more words
of encouragement, and his thanks for the fidelity they, at
least, had shown. By this time the night had got to be dark,
and the court was much more so, on account of the shadows
of the buildings, than places in the open air. As the captain

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 49

turned aside to give his last instructions to Joyce, he disco-
vered, by the light of the lantern the latter held, a figure
standing at no great distance, quite dimly seen on account
of its proximity to the walls of the Hut. It was clearly a
iii.-tn ; and as all the males able to bear arms, a single sen
tinel outside the court exceptcd, were supposed to be in the
group that had not yet separated, the necessity of ascer
taining the character of this unlooked-for visiter flashed on
the minds of both the old soldiers at the same instant. Joyce
raised the lantern, as they moved quickly towards the mo
tionless form, and its light glanced athwart a pair of wild,
glowing, dark eyes, and the red visage of an Indian.

" Nick !" exclaimed the captain, "is that you? — V/hat
has brought you here again, and how have you entered the
palisades? — Do you come as a friend, to aid us, or as an
enemy ?"

" Too much question, cap'in — too much like squaw ; ask
all togeder. Go to book-room ; Nick follow ; tell all he got
to say."

The captain whispered the serjeant to ascertain whether
thf watch without was vigilant, when he led the way to the
library, where, as he expected, he found his wife and daugh
ters, anxiously waiting his appearance.

" Oh ! Hugh, I trust it is not as bad as we feared !" cried
the mother, as the captain entered the room, closely attended
by the Tuscarora ; " our men cannot be so heartless as to
desert us at such a moment !"

The captain kissed his wife, said a word or two of en
couragement, and pointed to the Indian.

•• Nick !" exclaimed all three of the females, in a breath.
Though the tones of their voices denoted very different sen
sations, at the unexpected appearance of their old acquaint-
an<-e. .Mrs. Willouiihby's exclamation was not without plea
sure, for she thought the man her friend ; Beulah's was
filled with alarm, little Evert and savage massacres suddenly
-ing the sensitive mind of the young mother; while
Maud's tone had much of the stejrn resolution that she had
summoned to sustain her in a moment of such fearful trial.
" Yes, Nick — Sassy Nick," repeated the Indian, in his
guttural voice — " Ole friend — you no glad sec him?"
VOL. II.-5

50 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" That will depend on your errand," interposed the cap
tain. " Are you one of the party that is now lying at the
mill ? — but, stop ; how did you get within the palisades ?
First answer me that."

" Come in. Tree no good to stop Injin. Can't do it
vvid branches, how do it widout? Want plenty of musket
and plenty of soldier to do dat. Dis no garrison, cap'in, to
make Nick afeard. Always tell him too much hole to be
tight."

" This is not answering my question, fellow. By what
means did you pass the palisades?"

" What means? — Injin means, sartain. Came like cat,
jump like deer, slide like snake. Nick great Tuscarora
chief; know well how warrior march, when he dig up
hatchet."

" And Nick has been a great hanger-on of garrisons, and
should know the use that I can make of his back. You
will remember, Tuscarora, that I have had you flogged,
more than once, in my day."

This was said menacingly, and with more warmth, per
haps, than was prudent. It caused the listeners to start, as
if a sudden and new danger rose before their eyes, and the
anxious looks he encountered warned the captain that he
was probably going too far. As for Nick, himself, the ga
thering thunder-cloud is not darker than his visage became
at the words he heard ; it seemed by the moral writhing of
his spirit as if every disgracing blow he had received was at
that instant torturing his flesh anew, blended with the keenest
feelings of ignominy. Captain Willoughby was startled at
the effect he had produced ; but it was too late to change his
course ; and he remained in dignified quiet, awaiting the
workings of the Tuscarora's mind.

It was more than a minute ere Nick made any reply.
Gradually, but tvery slowly, the expression of his visage
changed. It finally became as stoical in expression as se
vere training could render the human countenance, and as
unmoved as marble. Then he found the language he
wanted.

^ " Listen," said the Indian, sternly. " Cap'in ole man.
(lot a head like snow on rock. He bold soldier; but he
no got wisdom enough for gray hair. Why he put he hand

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 51

rough, on pi arc where whip strike .' Wi>r man iicbber do
dat. Last winter lie cold; fire wanted to make, him warm.
Mueh iff, miu-h storm, inueh snow. \\"orld serin bad — lit
only for bear, and snake, dat hide in rock. Well; winter
gone away ; ice gone away ; snow gone away ; storm gone
away. Summer come, in his place. Kbbery t'ing good —
obbcry t'ing pleasant. Why fink of winter, when summer
come, and drive him away wid pleasant sky?"

" In order to provide for its return. He who never thought
of the evil day, in the hour of his prosperity, would find that
he lias forgotten, not only a duty, but the course of wis
dom."

«• He not wise!" said Nick, sternly. " Cap'in pale-face
chief. He got garrison; got soldier; got musket. Well,
he flog warrior's back ; make blood come. Dat bad enough ;
worse to put finger on ole sore, and make 'e pain, and 'e
shame, come back ag'in."

" Perhaps it would have been more generous, Nick, to
have said nothing about it ; but, you see how I am situated ;
an enemy without, my men deserting, a bad look-out, and
one finding his way into my very court-yard, and I ignorant
of the means."

" Nick tell cap'in all about means. If red-men outside,
shoot Vw; if garrison run away, flog garrison; if don't
know, Tarn ; but, don't flog back, ag'in, on olc sore !"

" Well, well, say no more about it, Nick. Here is a dollar
to keep you in rum, and we will talk of other matters."

Nick heeded not the money, though it was held before his
. some little time, to tempt him. Perceiving that the
, rora was now acting as a warrior and a chief, which
Nick would do, and do well, on occasion, the captain pock
eted the oflerinc, and regulated his own course accordingly.

" At all events, I have a right to insist on knowing, firs!,
l»y what means you entered the palisades ; and, second,
\\*hat business has brought you here, at night, and so sud
denly."

" Ask Nick, cap'in, all he right to ask ; but, don't touch
ole fii".:. H"W I cross palisade? Where your sentinel to
stop Injin? One at gate; well, none all round, t'other place.
Get in, up here, down dere, over yonder. Ten, twenty,
t'ree spot — s'pose him tree? climb him. S'posc him pa-

T il E HUTTED KNOLL.

lisade? — climb him, too. What help? — Soldier out at gate,
when Nick get over t'other end ! Come in court, too, when
he want. Half gate half no gate. So easy, 'shamed to brag
of. Cap'in once Nick's friend — went on same war-path —
dat in ole time. Both warrior; both went ag'in French
garrison. Well ; who crept in, close by cannon, open gate,
let pale-men in. Great Tuscarora do dat; no flog, den —
no talk of ole sore, dat night !"

" This is all true enough, Wyandotte" — This was Nick's
loftiest appellation ; and a grim, but faint smile crossed his
visage, as he heard it, again, in the mouth of one who had
known him when its sound carried terror to the hearts of
his enemies — " This is all true, Wyandotte, and I have ever
given you credit for it. On that occasion you were bold as
the lion, and as cunning as a fox — you were much honour
ed for that exploit."

" No ole sore in dat, um ?" cried Nick, in a way so start
ling as to sicken Mrs. Willoughby to the heart. " No call
Nick dog, dat ni^ht. He all warrior, den — all face ; no

" I have said you were honoured for your conduct, Nick,
and paid for it. Now, let me know what has brought you
here to-night, and whence you come."

There was another pause. Gradually, the countenance
of the Indian became less and less fierce, until it lost its ex
pression of malignant resentment in one in which human
emotions of a kinder nature predominated.

" Squaw good," he said, even gently, waving his hand
towards Mrs. Willoughby — " Got son; love him like little
baby. Nick come six, two time before, runner from her
son."

" My son, Wyandotte !" exclaimed the mother — " Bring
you any tidings, now, from my boy?"

" No bring tidin' — too heavy; Indian don't love to carry
load — bring letter"

The cry from the three females was now common, each
holding out her hand, with an involuntary impulse, to re
ceive the note. Nick drew the missive from a fold of his
garment, and placed it in the hand of Mrs. Willoughby, with
a quiet grace that a courtier might have wished to equal, in
vain.

THE HI T T '• I> K X O I, L . f)3

The note was short, and had been writlm in pencil, on a
Iraf torn from some book of coane paper. The handwriting
however, was at once nro-nix-d as Robert WilloughbyX
though there was no address, nor any signature. The paper
merely contained the following —

" Trust to your defences, and to nothing else. This party
.my white men in it, disguised as Indians. 1 am sus
pected, if not known. You will be tampered with, but the
wisest course is to be firm. If Nick is honest, he can tell
you more; if false, this note will be shown, even though it
be delivered. Secure the inner gates, and depend more on
the house itself, than on the palisades. Fear nothing for
me — my life can be in no danger."

This note was read by each, in succession, Maud turning
aside to conceal the tears that iell fasten the paj>er, as she pe
rused it. She read it last, and was enabled to retain it ; and
pnvious to her heart was the boon, at such a moment, when
nearly every sensation of her being centred in intense feel
ing in behalf of the captiv.

" We are told to inquire the particulars of you, Nick,"
observed the captain ; " I hope you will tell us nothing but
truth. A lie is so unworthy a warrior's mouth!"

•• Nick didn't lie 'bout beaver dam ! Cap'in no find him
good, as Indian say ?"

" In that you dealt honestly, and I give you credit for it.
Has any one seen this letter but ourselves, yourself, and the
person who wrote it ?"

"What for ask? If Nick say no, cap'in t'ink he lie.
Even fox tell trut' some time ; why not Injin ? Nick say
NO."

" Where did you leave my son, and when ? — Where is
the party of red-skins at this moment?"

" Alf pale-face in hurry! Ask ten, one, four question,
altogeder. Well; answer him so. Down here, at mill;
down dere, at mill ; half an hour, six, two, ten o'clock."

" I understand you to say that major Willoughby was at
the mill when you saw him "last, and that this was only half
an hour since?"

The Tuscarora nodded his head in nsscnt, but made no
other reply. Even as he did this, his keen eyes rolled over
the pallid faces of the females in a way to awaken the cap-
5*

54 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

tain's distrust, and he resumed his questions in a tone that
partook more of the military severity of his ancient habits
than of the gentler manner he had been accustomed to use
of late years.

" You know me, Nick," he said sternly, " and ought to
dread my displeasure."

" What cap'in mean, now ?" demanded the Indian,
quietly.

" That the same whip is in this fort that I always kept in
the other, in which you knew me to dwell ; nor have I for
gotten how to use it."

The Tuscarora gazed at the captain with a very puzzling
expression, though, in the main, his countenance appeared
to be ironical rather than fierce.

" What for, talk of whip, now?" he said. " Even Yen-
geese gen'ral hide whip, when he see enemy. Soldier can't
fight when back sore. When battle near, den all good
friend ; when battle over, den flog, flog, flog. Why talk
so ? — Cap'in nebber strike Wyandottc."

" Your memory must be short, to say this ! I thought an
Indian kept a better record of what passed."

" No man dare strike Wyandotte !" exclaimed the In
dian, with energy. " No man — pale-face or red-skin, can
give blow on back of Wyandotte, and see sun set !"

" Well — well — Nick ; we will not dispute on this point,
but let bye-gones be bye-gones. What has happened, has
happened, and I hope will never occur again."

" Dat happen to Nick — Sassy Nick — poor, drunken
Nick — to Wyandotte, nebber!"

" I believe I begin to understand you, now, Tuscarora,
and am glad I have a chief and a warrior in my house, in
stead of a poor miserable outcast. Shall I have the pleasure
of filling you a glass in honour of our old campaigns?"

" Nick alway dry — Wyandotte know no thirst. Nick,
beggar — ask for rum — pray for rum — fink of rum, talk of
rum, laugh for rum, cry for rum. Wyandotte don't know
rum, when he see him. Wyandotte beg not'in' ; no, not his
scalp."

" All this sounds well, and I am both willing and glad,
chief, to receive you in the character in which you give me
to understand you have now come. A warrior of Wyan-

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 55

dotte's high name is too proud to carry a forked tongue in
his mouth, and I shall hear nothing but truth. Tell me,
(hen, all you know about this party at the mill ; what has
brought it here, how you came to meet my son, and what
will be the next step of his captors. Answer the questions
in the order in which I put them."

" Wyandotte not newspaper to tell ebbery t'ing at once.
Let cap'in talk like one chief speaking to anoder."

" Then, tell me first, what you know of this party at tha
mill. Are there many pale-faces in it?"

" Put 'em in the river," answered the Indian, senten-
tiously ; " water tell the trut'."

" You think that there are many among them that would
wash white?"

" Wyandotte know so. When did red warriors ever travel
on their path like hogs in drove ? One red-man there, as
Great Spirit make him ; by his side two red-men as paint
make 'em. This soon told on trail."

" You struck their trail, then, and joined their company,
in that manner?"

Another nod indicated the assent of the Indian. Perceiving
that the Tuscarora did not intend to speak, the captain con
tinued his interrogatories.

"And how did the trail betray this secret, chief?" ho
asked.

" Toe turn out — step too short — trail too broad — trail too
plain — march too short."

" You must have followed them some distance, Wyan
dotte, to learn all this?"

" Follow from Mohawk — join 'em at mill. Tuscarora
don't like too much travel with Mohawk."

" But, according to your account, there cannot be a great
many red-skins in the party, if the white men so much out
number them."

Nick, now, raised his ri^ht hand, showing all the fingers
and the thumb, at each exhibition, four several times. Then
he raised it once, showing only the fore-finger and thumb.

"This makes twenty-two, Nick — Do you include your
self in the number?"

" Wyandotte, a Tuscarora — he count Mohawks"

" True — Are there any other red-men among them 7"

56 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" Oneida, so" — holding up four fingers only. After which
he held up a single finger, adding — " Onondaga, so."

" Twenty-two Mohawks, four Oneidas, and a single Onon
daga, make twenty-seven in all. To these, how many whites
am I to add ? — You counted them, also 1"

The Indian now showed both hands, with all the fingers
extended, repeating the gestures four times ; then he showed
one hand entire, and two fingers on the other.

" Forty-seven. Add these to the red- skins, and we get
seventy-four for the total. I had supposed them rather
stronger than this, Wyandotte ?"

"No stronger — no weaker — just so. Good many ole
womans, too, among pale-faces."

"Old women! — You are not speaking literally', Nick?
All that I have seen appear to be men."

" Got beard ; but ole woman, too. Talk — talk — talk ; —
do not'in'. Dat what Injin call ole woman. Party, poor
party ; cap'in beat 'em, if he fight like ole time."

" Well, this is encouraging, Wilhelmina, and Nick seems
to be dealing fairly with us."

" Now, inquire more about Robert, Hugh" — said the wife,
in whose maternal heart her children were always upper
most.

" You hear, Nick ; my wife is desirous of learning some
thing about her son, next."

During the preceding dialogue, there had been something
equivocal in the expression of the Indian's face. Every
word he uttered about the party, its numbers, and his own
manner of falling in with it, was true, and his countenance
indicated that he was dealing fairly. Still, the captain fan
cied that he could detect a covert fierceness in his eye and
air, and he felt uneasiness even while he yielded him cre
dence. As soon as Mrs. Willoughby, however, interposed,
the gleam of ferocity that passed so naturally and readily
athwart the swarthy features of the savage, melted into a
look of gentleness, and there were moments when it might
be almost termed softness.

" Good to have moder" — said Nick, kindly. "Wyandotte
got no squaw — wife dead, moder dead, sister dead — all gone
to land of spirits — by'm bye, chief follow. No one throw
stone on his grave ! Been on death-path long ago, but

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 57

cap'in's squaw say * stop, Nick ; little too soon, now ; take
medicine, and get well.' Squaw made to do good. Chief
ulway like 'e squaw, when his mint! not wild with war."

" And your mind, Wyandutte, is not wild with war, now,"
answered* Mrs. Willotighby, earnestly. "You will help a
mother, then, to get her son out of the hands of mercile.ss
enemies ?"

" Why you t'ink merciless? Because pale-face dress like
Injin, and try to cheat?"

" That may be one reason ; but I fear there are many
others. Tell me, Wyandotle, how came you to discover
that Robert was a prisoner, and by what means did he con
trive to give you his let:

The Indian assumed a look of pride, a little blended with
hauteur; for he felt that he was manifesting the superiority
of a red-man over the pale-face, as he related the means
through which he had made his discoveries.

" Read book on ground," Nick answered gravely. "Two
book alway open before chief; one in sky, t'other on ground.
Book in sky, tell weather — snow, rain, wind, thunder,
lightning, war — hook on ground, tell what happen."

* And what had this book on the ground to do with my
son, Wyandolte ?"

" Tcfl all about him. Major's trail first seen at mill. No
moccasin — much boot. Soldier boot like letter — say
deal, in few word. First t'ink it cap'in ; but it too short.
Den know it Major."

" This sounds very well, Nick," interrupted the captain,
" though you will excuse me if I say it is going a little too
*far. It seems impossible that you should know that the
print of the foot was that of my son. How could you be
certain of this?"

" How could, eh? Who follow trail from houso, hero, to
Hudson river ? T'ink Nick blind, and can't see? Tusrarora
read his book well as pale-face read bible." Hero Nick
looked round him a moment, raised his foro-fingor, dropped
his voice, and added earnestly — " see him at Bunker Hill —
know him among ten, six, two t'ousand warrior. Know dal
foot, if meet him in Happy Hunting Ground."

" And why my son's foot, in particular ? The boot is often
changed, can never be exactly like its predecessor, and one

58 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

boot is so much like another, that to me the thing seems
impossible. This account of the boot, Nick, makes me
distrust your whole story."

" What distrust?" demanded the Indian like lightning.

"It means doubt, uncertainty — distrust."

"Don't believe, hal"

" Yes, that is it, substantially. Don't more than half be
lieve, perhaps, would be nearer to the mark."

" Why, ole soldier alway distrust ; squaw nebber? Ask
moder — ha ! — you t'ink Nick don't know son's trail — hand
some trail, like young chiefs ?"

" I can readily believe Nick might recognise Bob's trail,
Hugh" — expostulated Mrs. Willoughby. "He has a foot in
a thousand — you may remember how every one was accus
tomed to speak of his beautiful foot, even when he was a
boy. As a man, I think it still more remarkable."

" Ay, go on, Nick, in this way, and my wife will believe
all you say. There is no distrust in a mother's partiality,
certainly. You are an old courtier, and would make your
way at St. James's."

" Major nebber tell about foot ?" asked Nick, earnestly.

" I remember nothing ; and had he spoken of any such
thing, I must have heard it. But, never mind the story,
now ; you saw the foot-print, and knew it for my son's. Did
you ask to be admitted to his prison ? or was your inter
course secret?"

" Wyandotte too wise to act like squaw, or boy. See
him, widout look. Talk, widout speak — hear, widout ear.
Major write letter, Nick take him. All done by eye and
hand ; not'in' done by tongue, or at Council Fire. Mohawk-
blind like owl !"

" May I believe you, Tuscarora ; or, incited by demons,
do you come to deceive me ?"

" Ole warrior look two time before he go; t'ink ten time
before he say, yes. All good. Nick no affronted. Do so
himself, and t'ink it right. Cap'in may believe all Nick
say."

" Father !" cried Maud, with simple energy, " I will an
swer fo>- the Indian's honesty. He has guided Robert so
often, and been with him in so many trying scenes, he never

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 59

can have the heart to betray him, or us. Trust him, then ;
lie may be of infinite sen

Even captain Willoiighby, little disposed as he was to
judge Nick favourably, was struck with the glcirn of manly
kindo bol ;KT»>S the dark face of the Indian, as he

ga/fd at the glowing check and illuminated countenance of
the ard'-nl ami beautiful girl.

M Nick seems disposed to make a truce with T/OW, at least,
Maud," he said, smiling, "and I shall now know where to
look for a mediator, whenever any trouble arises between
us."

" I have known Wvandolte, dear sir, from childhood, and
he has ever been my friend. lie promised me, in particular,
to be true to Bob, and I am happy to say he has ever kept
his word."

This was telling but half the story. Maud had made the
Indian many presents, and most especially had she attended
to his wants, when it was known he was to be the major's
guide, the year previously, on his return to Boston. Nick
had known her real father, and was present at his death.
1 1»% was consequently acquainted with her actual position in
the family of the Hutted Knoll; and, what was of far more
consequence in present emergencies, he had fathomed the
depths of her heart, in a way our heroine could hardly be
said to have done herself. Off her guard with such a being,
Maud's solicitude, however, had betrayed her, and the pene
trating Tuscarora had discerned that which had escaped the
observation of father, and mother, and sister. Had Nick
been a pale-face, of the class of those with whom he usually
associated, his discovery would have gone through the set
tlement, with scoffincs and exaggerations ; but this forest
gentleman, for such was Wyandotte, in spite of his di 'gra
dation and numerous failings, had too much consideration
to make a woman's affections the subject of his coarseness
and nif-rrimrnt. The secrets of Maud would not have been
more sacred with her own brother, had such a relative
existed to become her confidant, than it was with Saucy
Nick.

" Nick gal's friend," observed the Indian, quietly ; " dat
enough ; what Nick say, Nick mean. What Nick mean,

60 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

he do. Come, cap'in ; time to quit squaw, and talk about
war."

At this hint, which was too plain to be misunderstood,
captain Willoughby bade the Indian withdraw to the court,
promising to follow him, as soon as he could hold a short
conference with Joyce, who was now summoned to the
council. The subject of discussion was the manner in which
the Tuscarora had passed the stockade, and the probability
of his being true. The serjeant was disposed to distrust all
red-men, and he advised putting Nick under arrest, and to
keep him in durance, until the return of light, at least.

'* I might almost say, your honour, that such are orders,
sir. The advice to soldiers carrying on war with savages,
tells us that the best course is to pay off treachery with
treachery ; and treachery is a red-skin's manual exercise.
There is O'Hearn will make a capital sentinel, for the fellow
is as true as the best steel in the army. Mr. Woods' room
is empty, and it is so far out of the way that nothing will be
easier than to keep the savage snug enough. Besides, by
a little management, he might fancy we were doing him
honour all the while."

" We will see, serjeant," answered the captain. " It has
a bad appearance, and yet it may be the wisest thing we can
do. Let us first go the rounds, taking Nick with us for
safety, and determine afterwards."

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 61

CHAPTER V.

** His hand was stay'd — he knew not why;
'Twas a presence breathed around —
A pleading- from the deep-blue sky,
And up from the teeming- ground.
It told of the care that lavished had been
In sunshine and in dew —
Of the many things that had wrought a screen
When peril round it grew."

MRS. SEBA SMITH.

THE desertions gave not only the captain, but his great
support and auxiliary, the serjeant, the gravest apprehen
sions. A disposition of that nature is always contagious,
men abandoning a failing cause much as rats are known to
quit a sinking ship. It is not a matter of surprise, therefore,
that the distrust which accompanied the unexpected appear-
awe of the Tuscarora, became associated with this tailing
off in the loyalty of the garrison, in the minds of the two
old soldiers.

" I do think, your honour," said Joyce, as they entered
the court together, " that we may depend on O'FIearn, and
Jamie, and Strides. The latter, as a matter of course, being
a corporal, or serjeant as he calls himself; and the two first,
as men who have no ties but such as would be likely to keep
them true to this family. But here is the corporal to speak
for himself."

As this was said, corporal Strides, as the serjeant persist
ed in terming Joel, on the ground that being but one stop
higher himself, the overseer could justly claim no rank of
greater pretension, approached the captain, taking care to
make the military salute which Joyce had never succeeded
before in extracting from him, notwithstanding a hundred
admonitions on the subject.

" This is a distressing affair, captain Willoughby," ob-
sfTvod Joel, in his most Jesuitical manner ; " and to me it is
altogether onaccountable ! It does seem to me ag'in natur',

VOL. II. — 6

62 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

for a man to desart his own household and hum' (Joel meant
< home') in the hour of trial. If a fellow-being wunt (Anglice
'wont') stand by his wife and children, he can hardly be
expected to do any of his duties."

" Quite true, Strides," answered the confiding captain,
" though these deserters are not altogether as bad as you
represent, since, you will remember, they have carried their
wives and children with them."

" I believe they have, sir — yes, that must be allowed to
be true, and that it is, which to me "seems the most extr'or'-
nary. The very men that a person would calciiate on the
most, or the heads of families, have desarted, while them
that remain behind are mostly single !"

" If we single men have no wives and children of our
own to fight for, Strides," observed Joyce, with a little mili
tary stiffness, " we have the wife and children of captain
Willoughby ; no man who wishes to sell his life dearly,
need look for a better motive."

" Thank you, serjeant," the captain said, feelingly — "On
you, I can rely as on myself. So long as I have you, and
Joel, here, and Mike and the blacks, and the rest of the
brave fellows who have stood by me thus far, I shall not
despair. We can make good the house against ten times
our own number. But, it is time to look to the Indians."

" I was going to speak to the captain about Nick," put in
Joel, who had listened to the eulogium on his own fidelity
with some qualms of conscience. " I can't say I like the
manner he has passed between the two parties ; and that
fellow has always seemed to me as if he owed the captain a
mortal grudge ; when an Injin does owe a grudge, he is
pretty sartain to pay it, in full."

" This has passed over my mind, too, I will confess, Joel ;
yet Nick and I have been on reasonably good terms, when
one comes to remember his character, on the one side, and
the fact that I have commanded a frontier garrison on the
other. If I have had occasion to flog him a few times, I
have also had occasion to give him more rum than has done
him good, with now and then a dollar."

u There I think the captain miscalcilates," observed Joel,
with a knowledge of human nature that would have been
creditable to him, had he practised on it himself. " No man

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 63

is thankful for rum when the craving is off, sin' he knows
he has Ixx'ii taking an iniiny into iiis stomach ; and as for
the money, it was much the same as giving the liquor, secin'
that it went for liquor as soon as he could trot down to the
mill. A man will seek his rc\engi- lor rum, as soon as (i»r
anything else, when he gets to feel injuries uppermost. Be-
I s'pose the captain knows an injury will be remem
bered long a'ter a favour is forgotten."

" This may be true, Strides, and certainly I shall keep
my eyes on the Indian. Can you mention any particular
act, that excites your suspicion ?"

" Don't the captain think Nick may have had suthin' to
do with the desartions ? — A dozen men would scarce desart
all at once, as it might be, onless some one was at the bot
tom of it."

This was true enough, certainly, though Joel chose to
keep out of view all his own machinations and arts on the
subject. The captain was struck by the suggestion, and he
determined to put his first intention in respect to Nick in
force immediately. Still, it was necessary to proceed with
caution, the state of the Hut rendering a proper watch and
a suitable prison difficult to be obtained. These circum
stances were mentioned to the overseer, who led the way to
the part of the buildings occupied by his own family ; and,
throwing open the doors, ostentatiously exhibited Phrcbe
and her children in their customary beds, at a moment when
so many others had proved recreant. His professed object
was to offer a small closet in his own rooms as a prison for
Nick, remarking he must be an ingenious savage indeed, if
he could escape the vigilance of as many watchful eyes as
would then be on him.

" I Ix^lieve you, Strides," said the captain, smiling as he
walked away from the place; " if he can escape Phcelx; and
Inr children, the fellow must be made of quicksilver. Still,
1 have a better prison in view. I am glad to see this proof,
however, of your own fidelity, by finding all your family in
their beds ; for those are not wanting who would have me
suspect even you"

" Me ! — Well, if the captain can't count on his own over
seer, I should like to ask such persons on whom he can
count ? Madam Willoughby and the young ladies isn't more

64 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

likely to remain true than I am, myself, I should think.
What in reason, or natur', or all lawful objects, could make

55

Joel was about to run into that excess of vindication that
is a little apt to mark guilt ; but, the captain cut him short,
by telling him it was unnecessary, recommending vigilance,
and walking away in search of Nick.

The Indian was found standing beneath the arch of the
gateway, upright, motionless, and patient. A lantern was
kept burning here, the place being used as a sort of guard
house ; and, by its light, it was easy to perceive the state
of the still unhung leaf of the passage. This leaf, however,
was propped in its place, by strong timbers ; and, on the
whole, many persons would think it the most secure half
of the gate. Captain Willoughby observed that the Indian
was studying this arrangement when he entered the place
himself. The circumstance caused him uneasiness, and
quickened his determination to secure the Indian.

" Well, Nick," he said, concealing his intention under an
appearance of indifference, " you see our gates are well
fastened, and steady hands and quick eyes will do the rest.
It is getting late, and I wish to have you comfortably lodged
before I lie down myself. Follow me, and I will show you
to a place where you will be at your ease."

The Tuscarora understood the captain's object the instant
he spoke of giving him comfortable lodgings, a bed being a
thing that was virtually unknown to his habits. But, he
raised no objections, quietly treading in the other's footsteps,
until both were in the bed-room of the absent Mr. Woods.
The apartments of the chaplain were above the library, and,
being in the part of the house that was fortified by the cliff,
they had dormer windows that looked toward the forest.
The height of these windows the captain thought would be
a sufficient security against flight ; and by setting Mike and
one of the Plinys on the look-out, to relieve each other at
intervals of four hours, he thought the Tuscarora might bo
kept until the return of light. The hour when he most ap
prehended danger was that which just precedes the day,
sleep then pressing the heaviest on the sentinel's eye-lids,
and rest having refreshed the assailants.

" Here, Wyandotte, I intend you shall pass the night,"

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 65

said the captain, assuming as much courtesy of mariner as
if he wore doing the honours of his house to an invited and
honoured guest. " I know you despise a bed, hut there are
hiankrts, anil by spreading them on the floor, you can make
your o\\ n arrai..

Nick mad** a ii< -sture of assent, looking cautiously around
him, carefully avoiding every appearance of curiosity at the
same time, more in pride of character, however, than in
cunning. Nevertheless, he took in the history of the locality
at a lilan

"ft is well," he said; "a Tuscarora chief no t'ink of
sleep. Sleep come standing, walking; where he will, ichcn
he will. Dog eats, den lie down to sleep ; warrior always
ready. Good bye, cap'in — to-morrow see him ag'in."

" Good night, Nick. I have ordered your old friend
Mike, the Irishman, to come and sit in your room, lest you
might want something in the night. You are good friends
with Mike, I believe; I chose him on that account."

The Indian understood this, too; but not an angry gleam,
no smile, nor any other sign, betrayed his consciousness of
the captain's motives.

" Mike good" he answered, with emphasis. " Long
tongue — short t'ink. Say much ; mean little. Heart sound,
like hard oak — mind, like spunk — burn quick, no too much
strong."

This sententious and accurate delineation of the county
Leitrim-man's characteristics induced a smile in the captain;
but, O'Hearn entering at the moment, and possessing his
entire confidence, he saw no use in replying. In another
minute the two worthies were left in possession of the bed
room, Michael having received a most solemn injunction not
to be tempted to drink.

It was now so late, the captain determined to let the regu
lar watches of the night take their course. He held a short
consultation with Joyce, who took the first ward, and then
threw himself on a mattrass, in his clothes, his affectionate
wife having done the same thing, by the side of her daugh-
t> is and grandson in an adjoining room. In a short time,
the sounds of footsteps ceased in the Hut ; and, one unac
quainted with the real state of the household, might have
6*

66 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

fancied -that the peace and security of one of its ancient
midnights were reigning about the Knoll.

It was just two in the morning, when the serjeant tapped
lightly at the door of his commanding officer's room. The
touch was sufficient to bring the captain to his feet, and he
instantly demanded the news.

" Nothing but sentry-go, your honour," replied Joyce.
" I am as fresh as a regiment that is just marching out of
barracks, and can easily stand the guard till day-light.
Still, as it was orders to call your honour at two, I could do
no less, you know, sir."

" Very well, serjeant — I will just wash my eyes, and be
with you in a minute. How has the night gone?"

" Famously quiet, sir. Not even an owl to trouble it.
The sentinels have kept their eyes wide open, dread of the
scalping-knife being a good wakener, and no sign of any
alarm has been seen. I will wait for your honour, in the
court, the moment of relieving guard being often chosen by
a cunning enemy for the assault."

" Yes," sputtered the captain, his face just emerging from
the water — " if he happen to know when that is."

In another minute, the two old soldiers were together in
the court, waiting the return of Jamie Allen with his report,
the mason having been sent round to the beds of the fresh
men to call the guard. It was not long, however, before
the old man was seen hastening towards the spot where
Joyce had bid him come.

" The Lord ha' maircy on us, and on a' wretched sin
ners !" exclaimed Jamie, as soon as near enough to be
heard without raising his voice on too high a key — " there
are just the beds of the three Connecticut lads that were to
come into the laird's guard, as empty as a robin's nest fra'
which the yang haj flown !"

"Do you mean, Jamie, that the boys have deserted?"

" It 's just that ; and no need of ca'ing it by anither name.
The Hoose o' Hanover wad seem to have put the deil in a'
the lads, women and children included, and to have raised
up a spirit o' disaffection, that is fast leaving us to carry on
this terrible warfare with our ain hearts and bodies."

" With your honour's permission," said the serjeant, " I

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 07

would ask corporal Allen if the deserters have gone off with
thrir arms and uivoiitrrnn-ir

**Airms1 Ay, and legs, and a' belonging to 'em, w'th
mair that is the lawfu' property of the laird. Not so much
as a flint is left he-hind."

"Then we may count on seeing all the fellows in tho
enemy's ranks," the scrjoant quietly remarked, helping him-
self to the tobacco from -which he had refrained throughout
the previous hours of the night, Joyce being too much of a
martinet to smoke or chew on duty. " It 's up-hill work,
your honour, when every deserter counts two, in this man
ner. The civil wars, however, are remarkable for this sort
of wheeling, and facing to the right-about ; the same man
often changing his colours two or three times in a cam
paign."

Captain Wilioughby received the news of this addition to
his ill lurk with an air of military stoicism, though he felt,
in reality, more like a father and a husband on the occasion
than like a hero. Accustomed to self-command, he suc
ceeded in concealing the extent of his uneasiness, while he
immediately set about inquiring into the extent of the evil.

" Joel is to join my watch," he said, " and he may throw
some light on this affair. Let us call him, at once, for a
few minutes may prove of importance."

Even while speaking, the captain crossed the court, ac
companied by the serjcant and mason ; and, ceremony being
little attended to on such occasions, they all entered the
quarters of Strides, in a body. The place was empty !
Man, woman, and children had abandoned the spot, seem
ingly in a body ; and this, too, far from empty-handed. The
manner in which the room had br-rn stripped, indrvd.
the first fact which induced the captain to believe that a man
so much and so long trusted would desert him in a strait so
serious. There could be no mistake ; and, for a moment,
the husband and father felt such a sinking of the heart as
would be apt to follow the sudden conviction that his enemies
must prevail.

"Let us look further, Joyce," he said, "and ascertain
the extent of the evil at once."

" This is a very bad example, your honour, that corporal
Strides has set the men, and we may expect to hear of more

68 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

desertions. A non-commissioned officer should have had
too much pride for this ! I have always remarked, sir, in
the army, that when a non-commissioned officer left his
colours, he was pretty certain to carry off a platoon with
him."

The search justified this opinion of the serjeant. A com
plete examination of the quarters of all the men having been
made, it was ascertained tha-t every white man in the Hut,
the serjeant, Jamie Allen, and a young New England
labourer of the name of Blodget excepted, had abandoned
the place. Every man had carried off with him his arms
and ammunition, leaving the rooms as naked of defence as
they had been before they were occupied. Women and
children, too, were all gone, proving that the flights had
been made deliberately, and with concert. This left the
Hut to be defended by its owner, the serjeant, the two Plinys
and a young descendant of the same colour, Jamie Allen,
Blodget and Mike, who had not yet been relieved from his
ward over the Indian ; eight men in all, who might possibly
receive some assistance from the four black females in the
kitchen.

The captain examined this small array of force, every
man but Mike being up and in the line, with a saddened
countenance ; for he remembered what a different appear
ance it made only the previous day, when he had his gallant
son too, with him, a host in himself. It added mortification
to regret, also, when he remembered that this great loss had
been made without a single blow having been struck in de
fence of his precious family, and his lawful rights.

" We must close the gate of the court, and bar it at once,
Joyce," the captain said, as soon as fully apprised of the
true state of his force. " It will be quite sufficient if we
make good the house, with this handful of men ; giving up
all hope of doing anything with the stockade. It is the
facility offered by the open gateway that has led to all this
mischief."

" I don't know, your honour. When desertion once fairly
gets into a man's mind, it's wonderful the means he will
find to bring about his wishes. Corporal Strides, no doubt,
has passed his family and his kit through both gates ; for,
being in authority, our people were hardly disciplined enough

THE HUTTED KNOLL. CD

to understand the ditierence between a non-commissioaed
ollicer on guard and one off guard ; but, there were a hun
dred ways to mischief, even had there been no gate. Jamie,
take one of the blacks, and bar the inner gate. What id
your honour's pleasure i,

" I wish my mind were at ease on the subject of the Tus-
carora. With Nick's assistance as a runner and spy, and
.even as a sharp-shooter, we should be vastly stronger. Seo
to the gate yourself, scrjeant, then follow me to Mr. Woods'
room."

This was done, the captain waiting for his companion on
the threshold of the outer door. Ascending the narrow stairs,
they were soon on the floor above, and were happy to find
the door of the Tuscarora's prison fastened without, as they
had left it ; this precaution having been taken as a salutary
assistance to O'l MMrh'fl sagacity. Undoing these fastenings,
the serjeant stepped aside to allow his superior to precede
him, as became their respective stations. The captain ad
vanced, holding the lantern before him, and found an empty
room. Both Nick and Mike were gone, though it was not
easy to discover by what means they had quitted the place.
The door was secure, the windows were down, and tho
chimney was too small to allow of the passage of a human
body. The defection of the Irishman caused the captain
rjvat pain, while it produced surprise even in the serjeant.
Mike's fidelity had been thought of proof; and, for an in
stant, the master of the place was disposed to believe some
evil spirit had been at work to corrupt his people.

" This is more than I could have expected, Joyce !" he
said, as much in sorrow as in anger. " I should have as
soon looked for the desertion of old Pliny as that of Mike !''

" It is extr'or'nary, sir; but one is never safe without in-
and-in discipline. A drill a week, and that only for M
or two of a Saturday afternoon, captain Willouuhhv, may
make a sort of country militia, but it will do nothing for iho
field. 'Talk of enlisting men for a year, sorjeant J«>\ ce,'
said old colonel Flanker to me, one day in the last war —
* why it will take a year to teach a soldier how to eat. Your
silly fellows in the provincial assemblies fancy because a
man has teeth, and a stomach, and an appetite, that he
knows how to eat ; but eating is an art, serjeant ; and mill-

70 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

tary eating above all other branches of it ; and I maintain a
soldier can no more learn how to eat,' as a soldier, the colonel
meant, your honour, ' than he can learn to plan a cam
paign by going through the manual exercise.' For my part,
captain Willoughby, I have always thought it took a man
his first five years' enlistment to learn how to obey orders."

" I had thought that Irishman's heart in the right place,
Joyce, and counted as much on him as I did on you !"

" On me, captain Willoughby !" answered the serjeant,*
in a tone of mortification. " I should think your honour
would have made some difference between your old orderly
— a man who had served thirty years in your own regiment,
and most of the time in your own company, and a bit of a
wild Hibernian of only ten years' acquaintance, and he a
man who never saw a battalion paraded for real service !"

" I see my error now, Joyce ; but Michael had so much
blundering honesty about him, or seemed to have, that I
have been his dupe. It is too late, however, to repine; the
fellow is gone ; it only remains to ascertain the manner of
his flight. May not Joel have undone the fastenings of the
door, and let him and the Indian escape together, in com
mon with the rest of the deserters?"

" I secured that door, sir, with my own hands, in a mili
tary manner, and know that it was found as I left it. The
Rev. Mr. Woods' bed seems to have been disturbed ; per
haps that may furnish a clue."

A clue the bed did furnish, and it solved the problem.
The bed-cord was removed, and both the sheets and one of
the blankets were missing. This directed the inquiry to tho
windows, one of which was not closed entirely. A chimney
stood near the side of this window, and by its aid it was not
difficult to reach the ridge of the roof. On tho inner side
of the roof was the staging, or walk, already mentioned ;
and, once on that, a person could make the circuit of the
entire roof, in perfect safety. Joyce mounted to the ridge,
followed by the captain, and gained the staging with a little
effort, whence they proceeded round the buildings to ascer
tain if the rope was not yet hanging over the exterior, as a
means of descent. It was found as expected, and withdrawn
lest it might be used to introduce enemies within the house.

These discoveries put the matter of Michael's delinquency

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 71

at rest, lie had clearly gone off with his prisoner, and
might next be looked for in the ranks of the besiegers. The
•:i»u of this truth gave the captain more than uneasi
ness ; it caused him pain, for the county Lcitrim-man had
t favourite with the whole family, and most especially
with his daughter Maud.

" I do not think you and the blacks will leave me, Joyce,"
he observed, as the scrjeant and himself descended, by the
common passage, to the court. " On you I ran rely, as I
would rely on my noble son, were he with me at this mo
ment."

" I beg your honour's pardon — few words tell best for a
man, deeds being his duty — but, if your honour will have
the condescension just to issue your orders, the manner in
which they shall be obeyed will tell the whole story."

" I am satisfied of that, scrjcant ; we must put shoulder to
shoulder, and die in the breach, should it be necessary, be
fore we give up the place."

By this time the two old soldiers were again in the court,
where they found all their remaining force, of the male sex ;
the men being too uneasy, indeed, to think of going to their
pallets, until better assured of their safety. Captain Wil-
loughby ordered Joyce to draw them up in line again, when
he addressed them once more in person.

" My friends," the captain commenced, " there would be
little use in attempting to conceal from you our real situa
tion ; nor would it be strictly honest. You see here every
man on whom I can now depend for the defence of my fire
side and family. Mike has gone with the rest, and the In
dian has escaped in his company. You can make up your
own opinions of our chances of success, but my resolution
is formed. Before I open a gate to the merciless wretches
without, who are worse than the savages of the wilderness,
possessing all their bad and none of their redeeming quali-
!t is my determination to be buried under the ruins of
this dwelling. But you are not bound to imivate my exam
ple ; and, if any man among you, black or white, regrets
here at this moment, he shall still have arms and am
munition, and food given him, the gates shall be opened,
and he may go freely to seek his safety in the forest. For
God's sake, let there b« no more desertions ; he that wishes

72 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

to quit me, may now quit me unmolested ; but, after this
moment, martial law will be enforced, and I shall give or
ders to shoot down any man detected in treachery, as I
would shoot down a vicious dog."

This address was heard in profound silence. No man
stirred, nor did any man speak.

" Blodget," continued the captain, " you have been with
me a shorter time than any other person present, and cannot
feel the same attachment to me and mine as the rest. You
are the only native American among us, Joyce excepted —
for we count the blacks as nothing in respect to country — •
and may feel that I am an Englishman born, as I fear has
been the case with the rest of your friends. Perhaps I
ought not to ask you to remain. Take your arms, then,
and make the best of your way to the settlements. Should
you reach Albany, you might even serve me essentially by
delivering a letter I will confide to you, and which will bring
us effectual succour."

The young man did not answer, though his fingers work
ed on the barrel of his musket, and he shifted his weight,
from leg to leg, like one whose inward feelings were moved.

" I believe I understand you, captain Willoughby," he
said, at length, " though I think you don't understand me.
I know you old country people think meanly of us new
country people, but I suppose that's in the natur' of things;
then, I allow Joel Strides' conduct has been such as to give
you reason to judge us harshly. But there is a difference
among us, as well as among the English ; and some of us —
I won't say I am such a man, but actions speak louder than
words, and all will be known in the end — but some of us
will be found true to our bargains, as well as other men."

" Bravely answered, my lad," cried the serjeant, heartily,
and looking round at his commander with exultation, to
congratulate. him on having such a follower — "This is a
man who will obey orders through thick and thin, I '11 an-
swer for it, your honour. Little does he care who's king
or who 's governor, so long as he knows his captain and his
corps."

" There you are mistaken, serjeant Joyce," the youth ob
served, firmly. " I 'm for my country, and I 'd quit this
house in a minute, did I believe captain Willoughby meant

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 73

to help the crown. But I have lived long enough here, to
know he is at the most neutral ; though I think he rather
favours the side of the colonies than that of the crown."

" You have judged rightly, Blodget," observed the cap
tain. " I do not quite like this declaration of independence,
though I can scarce blame congress for having made it. Of
the two, I think the Americans nearest right, and I now
conceive myself to be more of an American than an English
man. I wish this to be understood, Joyce."

" Do you, sir ? — It 's just as your honour pleases. I
didn't know which side it was your pleasure to support, nor
does it make any great difference with most of us. Orders
are orders, let them come from king or colonies. I would
take the liberty of recommending, your honour, that this
young man be promoted. Strides' desertion has left a va
cancy among the corporals, and we shall want another for
the guard. It would hardly do to make a nigger a cor
poral."

" Very well, Joyce, have it as you wish," interrupted the
captain, a little impatiently; for he perceived he had a spirit
to deal with in Blodget that must hold such trifles at their
true value. " Let it be corporal Allen and corporal Blodget
in future."

" Do you hear, men ? — These are general orders. The
relieved guard will fall out, and try to get a little sleep, as
we shall parade again half an hour before day."

Alas ! the relieved guard, like the relief itself, consisted
of only two men, corporal Blodget and Pliny the younger;
old Pliny, in virtue of his household work, being rated as an
idler. These five, with th* captain and the serjeant, made
th< number of the garrison seven, which was the whole male
force that now remained.

Captain Willoughby directed Joyce and his two compa
nions to go to their pallets, notwithstanding, assuming the
charge of the look-out himself, and profiting by the occasion
to make himself better acquainted with the character of his
new corporal than circumstances had hitherto permitted.

VOL. II.— 7

74 THE HUTTED KNOLI*.

CHAPTER VI.

For thee they fought, for thee they fell,
And their oath was on thee laid ;
To thee the clarions raised their swell,
And the dying warriors pray'd."

PERCIVAL.

THE distaste for each other which existed between the
people of New England and those of the adjoining colonies,
anterior to the war of the revolution, is a matter of history.
It was this feeling that threw Schuyler, one of the ablest
and best men in the service of his country, into the shade,
a year later than the period of which we are writing. This
feeling was very naturally produced, and, under the circum
stances, was quite likely to be active in a revolution. Al
though New England and New York were contiguous terri
tories, a wide difference existed between their social condi
tions. Out of the larger towns, there could scarcely be said
to be a gentry at all, in the former; while the latter, a con
quered province, had received the frame-work of the English
system, possessing Lords of the Manor, and divers other of
the fragments of the feudal system. So great was the social
equality throughout the interior of the New England pro
vinces, indeed, as almost to remove the commoner distinctions
of civilised associations, bringing all classes surprisingly
near the same level, with the exceptions of the very low, or
some rare instance of an individual who was raised above
his neighbours by unusual wealth, aided perhaps by the ac
cidents of birth, and the advantages of education.

The results of such a state of society are easily traced.
Habit had taken the place of principles, and a people ac
customed to see even questions of domestic discipline referred,
either to the church or to public sentiment, and who knew
few or none of the ordinary distinctions of social intercourse,
submitted to the usages of other conditions of society, with
singular distaste and stubborn reluctance. The native of

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 7f>

England deil-nvd singularly to great wealth, in 1?7»;,
a> ii" is kii(.\\n to defer to it to-day ; but it was opposed to
all his habits and prejudices to d«-ter to social station. Un
used to intercourse with what was then called the great
world of tin; province*) lie knew not how to appreciate its
manners or opinions,- and, as is usual with the provincial,
he affected to despise that which he neither practised nor
understood. This, at once, indisposed him to acknowledge
the distinctions of classes; and, when accident threw him
into tho adjoining province, he became marked, at once, i\>r

.!iL,r the usages he encountered, comparing them, with
singular self-felicitation, to those he had left behind him;
sometimes with justice beyond a doubt, but oflener in pro
vincial ignorance and narrow bigotry.

A >imilar state of things, on a larger scale, has been wit
nessed, more especially in western New York, since the
of '83; the great inroads of emigrants from the New

aid states having almost converted that district of
country into an eastern colony. Men of the world, while
they admit how much has Ixx-u gained in activity, available
intelligence of the practical school, and enterprise, regret
that the fusion has been quite so rapid and so complete; it

apparently a law of nature that nothing precious that
comes of man shall be enjoyed altogether without alloy.

The condition in which captain \Villoughby was now
placed, mini/I have been traced t6 causes connected with
tin- i«-din«.«s and habits above alluded to. It was distasteful
to Joel Strides, and one or two of his associates, to see a
social chasm as wide as that which actually existed between
the family of the proprietor of the Knoll and his own, grow
ing no narrower; and an active cupidity, with the h<>,
confiscations, or an abandonment of the estate, came in aid
of this rankling jealousy of station; the most uneasy, as it
is tho meanest of all our vices. Utterly incapable of appre
ciating the width of that void which separates the gentle
man from the man of coarse feelings and illiterate vulgarity,

^an to preach that doctrine of cxaimerafed and mis
taken equality which says " one man is as good as another,"
a doctrine that is nowhere engrafted even on the most de
mocratic of our institutions to-day, since it would totally
supersede* the elections, and leave us to draw lots for public

76 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

trusts, as men are drawn for juries. On ordinary occasions,
the malignant machinations of Strides would probably have
led to no results ; but, aided by the opinions and temper of the
times, he had no great difficulty in undermining his master's
popularity, by incessant and well-digested appeals to the
envy and cupidity of his companions. The probity, liberality,
and manly sincerity of captain Willoughby, often counter
acted his schemes, it is true ; but, as even the stone yields
to constant attrition, so did Joel finally succeed in over
coming the influence of these high qualities, by dint of per
severance, and cunning, not a little aided by certain auxilia
ries freely obtained from the Father of Lies.

As our tale proceeds, Joel's connection with the late
movement will become more apparent, and we prefer leaving
the remainder of the explanations to take their proper places
in the course of the narrative.

Joyce was so completely a matter of drill, that he was in
a sound sleep three minutes after he had lain down, the
negro who belonged to his guard imitating his industry in
this particular with equal coolness. As for the thoughtful
Scotchman, Jamie Allen, sleep and he were strangers that
night. To own the truth, the disaffection of Mike not only
surprised, but it disappointed him. He remained in the
court, therefore, conversing on the subject with the "laird,"
after his companions had fallen asleep.
. " I wad na hae' thought that o' Michael," he said, " for
the man had an honest way with him, and was so seeming
valiant, that I could na hae' supposed him capable of proving
a desairter. Mony's the time that I 've heard him swear —
for Michael was an awfu' hand at that vice, when his betters
were no near to rebuke him — but often has he swore that
Madam, and her winsome daughters, were the pride of his
een : ay, and their delight too !"

" The poor fellow has yielded to my unlucky fortune,
Jamie," returned the captain, " and I sometimes think it
were better had you all imitated his example."

" Begging pairdon, captain Willoughby, for the fami
liarity, but ye 're just wrang, fra' beginning to end, in the
supposition. No man with a hairt in his body wad desairt
ye in a time like this, and no mair's to be said in the
matter. Nor do I think that luuk has had anything to do

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 77

with Michael's deficiency, unless ye ca' it luuk to !K> huni
niul edicated in a misguiding religion. Michael's catholicity
is at thi/ bottom of his backsliding, ye '11 find, if ye look
iy into the maiter."

" I do not eee h<>sv that is to bo made out, Allen ; all socts
of the Christian religion, I believe, teaching us to abide by
our engagements, and to perform our duties."

•• .\a douht — IKI doubt, 'squire \Villoughby — there's a
seeming desire to teach as much in a' churches; but ye 'II
no deny that the creatur' o' Rome wears a mask, and that
catholicity is, at the best, but a wicked feature to enter into
the worship of God."

"Catholicism, Jamie, means adherence to the catholic
church "

" Just that — just that" — interrupted the Scot, eagerly —
"and it's that o' which I complain. All protestants — wa-
ther fully disposed, or uinly half-disposed, as may be the
-.'. ith the Knglish kirk — all protestants agree in con
demning the varry word catholic, which is a sign and a
symbol of the foul woman o' Babylon."

" Then, Jamie, they agree in condemning what they don't
understand. I should be sorry to think I am not a member
of the catholic church myself."

Yer<aP! — No, captain Willoughby, ye 're no catholic,
though you are a bit akin to it, perhaps. I know that Mr.
Woods, that's now in the hands o' the savages, prays for
the catholics, and professes to believe in what he ca's the
« Holy Catholic Kirk ;' but, then, I 've always supposed that
was in the way o' Christian charity like; for one is oh1
to use decent language, ye '11 be acknowledging, sir, in the
pulpit, if it's only for appearances sake."

u \Vcll — well— Jamie; a more fitting occasion may occur
for discussing matters of this nature, and we will postpone
the subject to another time. I may have wed of your ser
vices an hour or two honce, and it will be well for rvt-ry
man to come to the work fresh and clear-headed. Go to
your pallet then, and expoct an early call."

The mason was not a man to oppose such an order com-
ing from the 'laird;' and he withdrew, leaving tho captain
standing in the centre of the court quite alone. ^
alone, for young Blodget had ascended to the gallery or
7*

78 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

staging that led around the inner sides of the roofs, while
the negro on guard was stationed at the gateway, as the
only point where the Hut could be possibly carried by a
coup-de-main. As the first of these positions commanded
the best exterior view from the inside of the buildings, the
captain mounted the stairs he had so recently descended,
and joined the young Rhode Islander at his post.

The night was star-light, but the elevation at which the
two watchers were placed, was unfavourable to catching
glimpses of any lurking enemy. The height confounded
objects with the ground on which they were placed, though
Blodget told the captain he did not think a man could cross
the palisades without his being seen. By moving along the
staging on the southern side of the quadrangle, he could
keep a tolerable look-out, on the front and two flanks, at
the same time. Still, this duty could not be performed with
out considerable risk, as the head and shoulders of a man
moving along the ridge of the building would be almost
certain to attract the eye of any Indian without. This was
the first circumstance that the captain remarked on joining
his companion, and gratitude induced him to point it out, in
order that the other might, in a degree at least, avoid the
danger.

" I suppose, Blodget, this is the first of your service,"
said captain Willoughby, " and it is not easy to impress on
a young man the importance of unceasing vigilance against
savage artifices."

" I admit the truth of all you say, sir," answered Blodget,
" though I do not believe any attempt will be made on the
house, until the other side has sent in what the serjeant calls
another flag."

" What reason have you for supposing this ?" asked the
captain, in a little surprise.

" It seems unreasonable for men to risk their lives when
an easier way to conquest may seem open to them. That
is all I meant, captain Willoughby."

" I believe I understand you, Blodget. You think Joel
and his friends have succeeded so well in drawing off my
men, that they may be inclined to wait a little, in order to
ascertain if further advantages may not be obtained in the
same way."

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 79

Blodget confessed that he had some such thoughts in his
mind, while, at the same lime, he declared that he believed
the disaffection would go no further.

" It is not easy for it to do so," returned the captain,
smiling a little bitterly, as he remembered how many who
itcn of his bread, and had been cared for by him, in
sickness and adversity, had deserted him in his need, " un
less they persuade my wife and daughters to follow those
who have led the way."

Respect kept Blodget silent for a minute ; then uneasiness
induced him to speak.

" I hope captain Willoughby don't distrust any who now
remain with him," he said. " If so, I know / must be the
person."

" Why you, in particular, young man ? With you, surely,
I have every reason to be satisfied."

" It cannot be serjeant Joyce, for he will stay until he
get your orders to march," the youth replied, not altogether
without humour in his manner; "and, as for the Scotch
man, he is old, and men of his years are not apt to wait so
long, if they intend to be traitors. The negroes all lovo
you, as if you were their father, and there is no one but me
left to betray you."

" I thank you for this short enumeration of my strength,
Blodget, since it gives me new assurance of my people's
fidelity. You I will not distrust ; the others I cannot, and

there is a feeling of high confidence What do you see 1

— why do you lower your piece, and stand at guard, in this
manner?"

" That is a man's form, sir, on the right of the gate, try
ing to climb the palisades. I have had my eye on it, for
some time, and I feel sure of my aim."

" Hold an instant, Blodget ; let us be certain before we
act."

The young man lowered the butt of his piece, waiting
patiently and calmly for his superior to decide. There was
a human form visible, sure enough, and it was seen slowly
and cautiously rising until it reached the summit of the
stockade, where it appeared to pause to reconnoitre. Whe
ther it were a pnle-friee or a red-skin, it was impossible to
distinguish, though the whole movement left little doubt thac

80 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

an assailant or a spy was attempting to pass the outer
defences.

" We cannot spare that fellow," said the captain, with a
little regret in his manner ; " it is more than we can afford.
You must bring him down, Blodget. The instant you have
fired, come to the other end of the stage, where we will
watch the result."

This arranged, the captain prudently passed away from
the spot, turning to note the proceedings of his companion,
the moment he was at the opposite angle of the gallery.
Blodget was in no haste. He waited until his aim was cer
tain ; then the stillness of the valley was rudely broken by
the sharp report of a rifle, and a flash illumined its obscu
rity. The figure fell outward, like a bird shot from its perch,
lying in a ball at the foot of the stockade. Still, no cry or
groan gave evidence of nature surprised by keen and unex
pected anguish. At the next instant Blodget was by captain
Willoughby's side. His conduct was a pledge of fidelity
that could not be mistaken, and a warm squeeze of the hand
assured the youth of his superior's approbation.

It was necessary to be cautious, however, and to watch
the result with ceaseless vigilance. Joyce and the men be
low had taken the alarm, and the serjeant with his compa
nions were ordered up on the stage immediately, leaving
the negro, alone, to watch the gate. A message was also
sent to the females, to give them confidence, and particularly
to direct the blacks to arm, and to repair to the loops.

All this was done without confusion, and with so little
noise as to prevent those without from understanding what
was in progress. Terror kept the negroes silent, and disci
pline the others. As every one had lain down in his or her
clothes, it was not a minute before every being in the Hut
was up, and in motion. It is unnecessary to speak of the
mental prayers .and conflicting emotions with which Mrs.
Willoughby and her daughters prepared themselves for the
struggle; and, yet, even the beautiful and delicate Maud
braced her nerves to meet the emergency of a frontier as
sault. As for Beulah, gentle, peaceful, and forgiving as she
was by nature, the care of little Evert aroused all the mother
within her, and something like a frown that betokened reso
lution was, for a novelty, seen on her usually placid face.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 81

A moment sufficed to let Joyce and his companions into
the state of affairs. There iu>\v being four armed men on
the stnge, one took each of the three exposed sides of the
buildini> it. ua'ch, leaving the master of the house to inuve.
from post to post, to listen to suggestions, hear reports, and
communicate orders.

The dark object that lay at the foot of the palisades was
pointed out to the serjeant the instant he was on the stage,
and one of his othVes uas to observe it, in order to ascertain
if it moved, or whether any attempts were made to carry
off the body. The American Indians attach all the glory
or shame of a battle to the acquisition or loss of scalps, and
one of their practices was to remove those who had fallen,
at every hazard, in order to escape the customary mutila
tion. Some tribes even believed it disgrace to suffer a dead
body to be struck by the enemy, and many a warrior has
lost his life in the effort to save the senseless corpse of a
comrade from this fancied degradation.

As soon as the little stir created in the Hut by the muster
ing of the men was over, a stillness as profound as that
which had preceded the alarm reigned around the place.
No noise came from the direction of the mill; no cry, or
call, or signal of battle was heard ; everything lay in the
quiet of midnight. Half an hour thus passed, when the
streak of light that appeared in the east announced the ap
proach of day.

The twenty minutes that succeeded were filled with in
tense anxiety. The slow approach of light gradually brought
out object after object in the little panorama, awakening and
removing alike, conjectures and apprehensions. At first the
<:rey of the palisades became visible; then the chapel, in its
sombre outlines ; the skirts of the woods; the different cabins
that lined them; the cattle in the fields, and the scattering
. As for Joyce, he kept his gaze fastened on the object
at thn foot of the stockade, expecting every instant there
would be an attempt to carry it off.

At length, the light became so strong as to allow the eye
to take in the entire surface of the natural glacis without
the defences, brinirin? the assurance that no enemy was
near. As the ground was perfectly clear, a few fruit-trees
and shrubs on the lawn excepted, and by changing positions

82 T II E HUTTED. KNOLL.

on the stage, these last could now be examined on all sides,
nothing was easier than to make certain of this fact. The
fences, too, were light and open, rendering it impossible for
any ambush or advancing party to shelter itself behind them.
In a word, daylight brought the comfortable assurance to
those within the palisades that another night was passed
Without bringing an assault.

" We shall escape this morning, I do believe, Joyce," said
the captain, who had laid down his rifle, and no longer felt
it necessary to keep the upper portions of his body conceal
ed behind the roof — " Nothing can be seen that denotes an
intention to attack, and not an enemy is near."

" I will take one more thorough look, your honour," an
swered the serjeant, mounting to the ridge of the building,
where he obtained the immaterial advantage of seeing more
at the same time, at the risk of exposing his whole person,
should any hostile rifle be in reach of a bullet — " then we
may be certain."

Joyce was a man who stood just six feet in his stockings;
and, losing no part of this stature by his setting up, a better
object for a sharp-shooter could not have been presented
than he now offered. The crack of a rifle soon saluted the
cars of the garrison ; then followed the whizzing of the bullet
as it came humming through the air towards the Hut. But
the report was so distant as at once to announce that the
piece was discharged from the margin of the forest ; a certain
evidence of two important facts ; one, that the enemy had
fallen back to a cover ; the other, that the house was nar
rowly watched.

Nothing tries the nerves of a young soldier more than the
whizzing of a distant fire. The slower a bullet or a shot
approaches, the more noise it makes ; and, the sound con
tinuing longer than is generally imagined, the uninitiated
are apt to imagine that the dangerous missile is travelling
on an errand directly towards themselves. Space appears
annihilated, and raw hands are often seen to duck at a
round shot that is possibly flying a hundred yards from
them.

On the present occasion, the younger Pliny fairly squatted
below the root • Jamie thought it prudent to put some of his
own masonry, which was favourably placed in an adjacent

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 83

chimney for such a purpose, between him and the spot
whence the report proceeded; while even Blodget looked up
into the air, as if he expected to sec where the bullet was
going. Captain \Villoughby had no thought of the missile;
»s looking for the smoke in the skirts of the woods, to
note the spot ; while Joyce, with folded arms, stood at rest
on the ridge, actually examining the valley in another direc
tion, certain that a fire so distant could not be very dan
gerous.

Jamie's calculation proved a good one. The bullet struck
against the chimney, indented a brick, and fell upon the
shingles of the roof. Joyce descended at the next instant,
and he coolly picked up, and kept tossing the flattened bit
of lead in his hand, for the next minute or two, with the air
of a man who seemed unconscious of having it at all.

" The enemy is besieging us, your honour," said Joyce,
" but lie will not attack at present. If I might presume to
advise, we shall do well to leave a single sentinel on this
stage, since no one can approach the palisades without being
seen, if the man keeps in motion."

" I was thinking of this myself, serjeant ; we will first
post Blodget here. We can trust him ; and, as the day
advances, a less intelligent sentinel will answer. At the
same time, he must be instructed to keep an eye in the rear
of the Hut, danger often coming from the quarter least ex
pected."

All this was done, and the remainder of the men descended
to the court. Captain Willoughby ordered the gate unbarred,
when he passed outside, taking the direction towards the life
less body, which still lay where it had fallen, at the foot of
the stockades. He was accompanied by Joyce and Jamie
Allen, the latter carrying a spade, it being the intention to
inter the savago as the shortest means of getting rid of a
disagreeable object. Our two old soldiers had none of the
sensitiveness on the subject of exposure that is so apt to
disturb the tyro in the art of war. With sentinels propeily
posted, they had no apprehensions of clangors that did not
exist, and they moved with confidence and steadily wherever
duty called. Not only was the inner gate opened and passed,
but the outer also, the simple precaution of stationing a man
at the first being the only safeguard taken.

84 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

When outside of the palisades, the captain and his com
panions proceeded at once towards the body. It was now
sunrise, and a rich light was illuminating the hill-tops,
though the direct rays of the luminary had not yet descend
ed to the valley. There lay the Indian, precisely as he had
fallen, no warrior having interposed to save him from the
scalping-knife. His head had reached the earth first, and
the legs and hody were tumbled on it, in a manner to ren
der the form a confused pile of legs and blanket, rather than
a bold savage stretched in the repose of death.

" Poor fellow !" exclaimed the captain, as the three ap
proached the spot; " it is to be hoped Blodget's bullet did its
commission faithfully, else the fall must have hurt him
sadly."

" By Jove, 'tis nothing but a stuffed soldier !" cried Joyce,
rolling the ingeniously contrived bundle over with his foot;
" and here, the lad's ball has passed directly through its
head ! This is Injin deviltry, sir ; it has been tried, in order
to see whether our sentinels were or were not asleep."

" To me, Joyce, it seems more like a white man's clumsi
ness. The fellow has been made to resemble an Indian, but
people of our own colour have had a hand in the affair."

" Well, sir, let that be as it may, it is lucky our youngster
had so quick an eye, and so nimble a finger. See, your
honour ; here is the pole by which the effigy was raised to
the top of the palisades, and here is the trail on the grass
yet, by which his supporter has crept off. The fellow seems
to have scrambled along in a hurry ; his trail is as plain as
that of a whole company."

The captain examined the marks left on the grass, and
was of opinion that more than one man had been employed
to set up the decoy figure, a circumstance that seemed pro
bable in itself, when the weight of the image and the danger
of exposure were remembered. Let that be as it might, he
was rejoiced on reflection that no one was hurt, and he still
retained the hope of being able to come to such an under
standing with his invaders as to supersede the necessity of
actual violence.

'' At all events, your honour, I will carry the quaker in,"
said Joyce, tossing the stuffed figure on a shoulder. " He
will do to man the quaker gun at least, and may be of use

THE IIUTTED KNOLL. 65

in frightening some one of the other side, more than he has
yet frightened

Captain VVilloughby did not object, though ho reminded

that the desertions hud probably put the enemy in

-it'ii of a minute statement of their defences and force,

including the history of the wooden gun. If Joel and his

fellow-delinquents had joined the party at the mill, the name,

age, character and spirit of every man remaining in the

garrison were probably known to its leaders; and neither

quakers nor paddies would count for much in opposing an

assault.

The captain came within the gate of the palisades last,
closing, barring, and locking it with his own hands, when
all immediate apprehensions from the enemy ceased. He
knew, certainly, that it would probably exceed his present
means of resistance, to withstand a vigorous assault; but,
on the other hand, he felt assured that Indians would never
approach a stockade in open day, and expose themselves to
the hazards of losing some fifteen or twenty of their num
bers, before they could carry the place. This was opposed
to all their notions of war, neither honour nor advantage
tempting them to adopt it. As for the first, agreeably to
>-a \aire notions, glory was to be measured by the number
of scalps taken and lost; and, counting all the women left
in the Hut, there would not be heads enough to supply a
sufficient number to prove an offset to those which would
probably be lost in the assault.

All this did the captain discuss in few words, with the
serjeant, when he proceeded to join his anxious and expect
ing will.- and daughters.

" God has looked down upon us in mercy, and protected
us this ninht," said the grateful Mrs. Willoaghby, with
streaming • -lie received and returned her hu>band's

warm embrace. '• \\"e cannot be too thankful, \\hrn ue
Joi.k at these dear girls, and our precious little Evert. If
Robert were only with us now, I should be entirelv happy!''

"Such is human nature, my little Maud" — answered the
captain, drawing his darling towards himself and ki>.-in^
her po!i>h« d forehead. " The very thoughts of being in our
actual strait would have made your mother as miserable as
her worst enemy could wish — if, indeed, there be such a

VOL. II. — 8

86 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

monster on earth as her enemy — and, now she protests
she is delighted because our throats were not all cut last
night. We are safe enough for the day I think, and not
another night shall one of you pass in the Hut, if I can have
my way. If there be such a thing as desertion, there is
such a thing as evacuation also."

" Hugh ! — What can you, do you mean ! Remember, we
are surrounded by a wilderness."

" I know our position reasonably well, wife of mine, and
intend to turn that knowledge to some account, God willing,
and aiding. I mean to place old Hugh Willoughby by the
side of Xenophon and Washington, and let the world see
what a man is capable of, on a retreat, when he has such a
wife, two such daughters, and a grandson like that, on his
hands. As for Bob, I would not have him here, on any
account. The young dog would run away with half the
glory."

The ladies were too delighted to find their father and
husband in such spirits, to be critical, and all soon after sat
down to an early breakfast, to eat with what appetite they
could.

CHAPTER VII.

Yet I well remember

The favours of these men : were they not mine ?
Did they not sometimes cry, all hail ! to me ?
So Judas did to Christ : but he, in twelve
Found truth in all but one ; I in twelve thousand none.

Richard II.

THAT which captain Willoughby had said in seeming
pleasantry he seriously meditated. The idea of passing
another night in the Hut, supported by only six men, with
more than ten times that number besieging him, and with
all the secrets of his defences known, through the disaffec
tion of his retainers, was, to the last degree, painful to him.
Had his own life, alone, been at risk, military pride might
have tempted him to remain ; but his charge was far too
precious to be exposed on account of considerations so vain.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 87

No sooner, therefore, was the breakfast over, than the
captain summoned Joyce to a consultation on the contem
plated movement. The interview took place in the lihrary,
whither the scrjrant repaired, <>n receiving his superior's
orders. As to the parly without, no apprehension was felt,
so long as the sentinels 'were even moderately vigilant, and
the day lasted.

"I suppose, serjeant," commenced captain Willoughby,
" a soldier of your experience is not to be taught what is the
next resort of a commanding officer, when he finds himself
unable to make good his ground against his enemy in
front?"

" It is to retreat, your honour. The road that cannot be
passed, must be turned."

" You have judged rightly. It is now my intention to
evacuate the Hut, and to try our luck on a march to the
rear. A retreat, skilfully executed, is a creditable thing;
and any step appears preferable to exposing the dear beings
in the other room to the dangers of a night assault."

Joyce appeared struck with the suggestion ; though, if one
might have judged from the expression of his countenance,
far from favourably. He reflected a moment ere he an
swered.

" Did your honour send for me," he then inquired, "to
issue orders for this retreat, or was it your pleasure to hear
anything I might have to say about it ?"

"The last — I shall give no orders, until I know your
opinion of the measure."

" It is as much the duty of an inferior to speak his mind
freely, when he is called for art opinion, captain Willoughby,
is to obey in silence, when he gets nothing but orders.
According to my views of the matter, we shall do better to
stand our ground, and try to make good the house against
these vagabonds, than to trust to the woods."

" Of course you have your reasons for this opinion,
Joyce?"

" Certainly, your honour. In the first place, I suppose it
lo be against the rules of the art of war to evacuate a place
that is well provisioned, without standing an assault. This
we have not yet done. It is true, sir, tnat our ranks are
thinned by desertions ; but I never heard of a garrisoned

88 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

town, or a garrisoned house, capitulating on account of a
few deserters ; and, I take it, evacuation is only the next
step before capitulation."

" But our desertions, Joyce, have not been few, but many.
Three times as many have left us, if we include *.vir other
losses, as remain. It matters not whence the loss proceeds,
so long as it is a loss."

" A retreat, with women and baggage, is always a ticklish
operation, your honour, especially if an enemy is pressing
your rear ! Then we have a wilderness before us, and the
ladies could hardly 'hold out for so long a march as that
from this place to the Mohawk ; short of which river they
will hardly be as safe as they are at present."

" I have had no such march in view, Joyce. You know
there is a comfortable hut, only a mile from this very spot
on the mountain side, where we commenced a clearing for
a sheep-pasture, only three summers since. The field is in
rich grass ; and, could we once reach the cabin, and manage
to drive a cow or two up there, we might remain a month
in security. As for provisions and clothes, we could carry
enough on our backs to serve us all several weeks ; espe*
cially if assisted by the cows."

" I 'm glad your honour has thought of this idea," said
the serjeant, his face brightening as he listened ; «« it will be
a beautiful operation to fall back on that position, when we
can hold out no longer in this. The want of some such
arrangement has been my only objection to this post, cap
tain Willoughby ; for, we have always seemed to me, out
here in the wilderness, like a regiment drawn up with a
ravine or a swamp in its rear."

" I am glad to find you relishing the movement for any
cause, serjeant. It is my intention at present to make the
necessary arrangements to evacuate the Hut, while it is
light ; and, as soon as it is dark, to retreat by the gates, the

palisades, and the rivulet How now, Jamie? You look

as if there were news to communicate?"

Jamie Allen, in truth, had entered at that instant in so
much haste as to have overlooked the customary ceremony
of sending in his name, or even of knocking.

" News !" repeated the mason, with a sort of wondering
smile ; ' and it 's just that I 've come to bring. Wad ye

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 89

think it, baiih, gentlemen, that our people are in their ain
cahins ag'in, boiling tlu-ir pots, and frying their pork, a' the
same as it" tin- valley was in ;i state of tranquillity, and we
so many lairds waiting lor them to come and do our plea
sure !" '

"I do not understand you, Jamie — whom do you mean
by 'our people T "

44 Sure, just the desairters ; Joel, and the miller, and Mi-
rhael, and the rest."

44 And the cabins — and the pots — and the pork — it is
gibberish to m<-.''

44 1 hae what ye English ca' an aiccent, I know ; but, in
my judgment, captain Willoughby, the words may be com-
pn-hrnded without a dictionary. It's just that Joel Strides,
and Daniel the miller, and the rest o' them that fleed, the
past night, have gane into their ain abodes, and have lighted
thi-ir fnvs, and put over their pots and kettles, and set up
their domestic habitudes, a' the same as if this Beaver Dam
was ain o' the pairks o' Lonnon !"

44 The devil they have ! Should this be the case, serjeant,
our sortie may be made at an earlier hour than that men
tioned. I iii'vi-r will submit to such an insult."

Captain Willoughby was too much aroused to waste many
words; and, sfi'/.ing his hat, he proceeded forthwith to take
a look for himself. The stage, or gallery on the roofs, offer-
ing the best view, in a minute he and his two companions
were on it.

44 There ; ye Ml be seein' a smoke in Joel's habitation,
with your own een ; and, yon is anithcr, in the dwelling of
his cousin Seth," said Jamie, pointing in the direction he
named.

44 Smoke there is, of a certainty ; but the Indians may
have lighted fires in the kitchen, to do their own cooking.
This looks like investing us, serjeant, rather more closely
than the fellows have done before."

44 1 rather think not, your honour — Jamie is righ'., or my
eyes do not know a man from a woman. That is certainly
a* female in the garden of Joel, and I '11 engage it's Phoebe,
pulling onions for his craving stomach, the scourdrel !"

Captain Willoughby never rn«vrd without his little glas?,
and it was soon levelled at the object mentioned.
8*

90 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

"By Jupiter, you are right, Joyce" — he cried. "It is
Phoebe, though the hussy is coolly weeding, not culling the
onions ! Ay — and now I see Joel himself! The rascal is
examining some hoes, with as much philosophy as if he
were master of them, and all near them. This is a most
singular situation to be in !"

This last remark was altogether just. The situation of
those in the Hut was now singular indeed. Further exami
nation showed that every cabin had its tenant, no one of the
party that remained within the palisades being a householder.
By using the glass, and pointing it, in succession, at the
different dwellings, the captain in due time detected the pre
sence of nearly every one of the deserters. Not a man of
them all, in fact, was missing, Mike alone excepted. There
they were, with their wives and children, in quiet possession
of their different habitations. Nor was this all ; the business
of the valley seemed as much on their minds as had been
their practice for years. Cows were milked, the swine were
fed, poultry was called and cared for, and each household
was also making the customary preparations for the morn
ing meal.

So absorbed was the captain with this extraordinary scene,
that he remained an hour on the staging, watching the course
of events. The breakfasts were soon over, having been
later than common, and a little hurried ; then commenced
the more important occupations of the day. A field was
already half ploughed, in preparation for a crop of winter
grain ; thither Joel himself proceeded, with the necessary
cattle, accompanied by the labourers who usually aided him
in that particular branch of husbandry. Three ploughs
were soon at work, with as much regularity and order as
if nothing had occurred to disturb the tranquillity of the
valley. The axes of the wood-choppers were next heard,
coming out of the forest, cutting fuel for the approaching
winter ; and a half-finished ditch had its workmen also,
who were soon busy casting up the soil, and fashioning
their trench. In a word, all the suspended toil was renewed
with perfect system and order.

" This beats the devil himself, Joyce !" said the captain,
after a half-hour of total silence. " Here are all these fel
lows at work as coolly as if I had just given them their

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 91

tasks, and twice a* diligently. Their unusual industry is a
bad symptom of it-

"Your honour will remark one circumstance. Not a
rascal of them all comes uithin the fair range of a musket ;
fur, as to throwing away ammunition at such distance^, it
would be clearly unmilitary, and might be altogether use-
less."

" I have half a mind to scatter them with a volley" — said
the captain, doubtingly. " Bullets would take effect among
those ploughmen, could they only be made to hit."

" And amang the cattle, too," observed the Scotsman,
who had an eye on the more economical part of the move
ment, as well as on that which was military. " A ball
would slay a horse as well as a man in such a skairmish."

"This is true enough, Jamie; and it is not exactly tho
sort of warfare I could wish, to be firing at men who were
so lately my friends. I do not see, Joyce, that the rascals
have any arms with them?"

" Not a musket, sir. I noticed that, when Joel first de
tailed his detachments. Can it be possible that the savages
have retired?"

M Not they; else would Mr. Strides and his friends have
gone with them. No, serjeant, there is a deep plan to lead
us into some sort of ambush in this affair, and we will be on
the look-out for them."

Joyce stood contemplating the scene for some time, in
profound silence, when he approached the captain formally,
and made the usual military salute; a ceremony he had
punctiliously observed, on all proper occasions, since the
garrison might be said to be placed under martial law.

" If it's your honour's pleasure," he said, " F will detail
a detachment, and go out and bring in two or three of th«-o;
deserters; by which means we shall get into their secrets."

UA detachment, Joyce!" answered the captain, eyeing
his subordinate a little curiously — "What trcops do you
propose to tell-off for the service?"

"Why, your honour, there's corporal Allen and old
Pliny off duty; I think the tiling mi.uht be done with them,
it* yuur honour would have the condescension to order cor
poral Blodgc-t, with the two other blacks, to form as a sup
porting party, under the cover of one of the fences."

92 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" A disposition of my force that would leave captain WiU
loughby for a garrison ! I thank you, serjeant, for your offer
and gallantry, but prudence will not permit it. We may
set down Strides and his companions as so many knaves,
and "

" That may ye !" cried Mike's well-known voice, from
the scuttle that opened into the garrets, directly in front of
which the two old soldiers were conversing — "That may
ye, and no har-r-m done the trut', or justice, or for that
matther, meself. Och ! If I had me will of the blackguards,
every rogue of 'em should be bound hand and fut and laid
under that pratthy wather-fall, yon at the mill, until his sins
was washed out of him. Would there be confessions then ?
— That would there ; and sich letting out of sacrets as would
satisfy the conscience of a hog!"

By the time Mike had got through this sentiment he was
on the staging, where he stood hitching up his nether gar
ment, with a meaning grin on his face that gave a peculiar
expression of heavy cunning to the massive jaw and capa
cious mouth, blended with an honesty and good-nature that
the well-meaning fellow was seldom without when he ad
dressed any of the captain's family. Joyce glanced at the
captain, expecting orders to seize the returned run-away ;
but his superior read at once good faith in the expression of
his old retainer's countenance.

"You have occasioned us a good deal of surprise, O'Hearn,
on more accounts than one," observed the captain, who
thought it prudent to assume more sternness of manner thap
his feelings might have actually warranted. " You have
not only gone off yourself, but you have suffered your pri
soner to escape with you. Then your manner of getting
into the house requires an explanation. I shall hear what
you have to say before I make up my mind as to your con
duct."

" Is it spake I will ? — That will I, and as long as it plase
yer honour to listen. Och ! Isn't that Saucy Nick a quare
one ? Divil burn me if I thinks the likes of him is to be
found in all Ameriky, full as it is of Injins and saucy fel
lies ! Well, now, I suppose, sarjeant, ye 've set me down
as stnriding off with Misther Joel and his likes, if ye was to
open yer heart, and spake yer thrue mind ?"

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 93

" You have bocn marked tor a deserter, O'Hearn, and
one, too, that deserted from post/'

"Post! Had I bc» ii that, 1 shouldn't have stirred, and
ye'd !>•• wanting in the news I bring ye from the Majjor,
ii ml .Mr. Woods, and the savages, and the rest of the var
mints."

11 .My son ! — Is this possible, Michael ? Have you seen
him, or can you tell us anything of his state?"

Mike now assumed a manner of mysterious importance,
laying a finger on his nose, and pointing' towards the sentinel
and Jamie.

" It 's the sarjeant that I considers as one of the family,"
said the county Leitrim-man, when his pantomime was
through, "but it isn't dacent to be bawling out saen is
through a whole nighbourhood ; and then, as for Ould
Nick — or Saucy Nick, or whatever yc calls him — Och !
isn't he a pratthy Injin ! Ye '11 mar-r-ch t'rough Ameriky,
and never see his ai<]iiel !"

" This will never do, O'Hearn. Whatever you have to
say must be said clearly, and in the simplest manner. Fol
low to the library, where I will hear your report. Joyce,
you will accompany us."

" Let him come, if he wishes to hear wonderful achaive-
ments !" answered Mike, making way for the captain to
descend the steps ; then following himself, talking as he
went. "He'll niver brag of his campaigns ag'in to the
likes of me, seeing that I 've outdone him, ten — ay, forty
. and boot. Och ! that Nick 's a divil, and no har-r-m
said !"

" In the first place, O'Hearn," resumed the captain, as
soon as the three; wore alone in the library — "you must
explain your own desertion."

" Me ! — De.sirt ! Sure, it isn't run away from yor honour,
and the Missus, and Miss Beuly, and pratthy Miss Maud,
and the child, that's yer honour's m'anin^ .'"

This was said with so much nature and truth, that the
captain had not the heart to repeat the question, though
Joyce's more drilled feelings were less moved. The first even
felt a tear springing to his eye, and he no longer distrusted
the Irishman's fidelity, as unaccountable as his conduct did
and must seem to his cooler judgment. But Mike's seasi-

94 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

tiveness had taken the alarm, and it was only to be appeased
by explanations.

" Yer honour's not sp'aking when I questions ye on that
same?" he resumed, doubtingly.

" Why, Mike, to be sincere, it did look a little suspicious
when you not only went off yourself, but you let the Indian
go off with you."

" Did it?"— said Mike, musing—" No, I don't allow that,
seein' that the intent and object was good. And, then, I
never took the Injin'wid me; but 'twas I, meself, that went
wid Azm."

" I rather think, your honour," said Joyce, smiling, " we'll
put O'Hearn's name in its old place on the roster, and make
no mark against him at pay-day."

" I think it will turn out so, Joyce. We must have pa
tience, too, and let Mike tell his story in his own way."

" Is it tell a story, will I ? Ah ! — Nick 's the cr'ature for
that same ! See, he has given me foor bits of sticks, every
one of which is to tell a story, in its own way. This is the
first ; and it manes let the captain into the sacret of your
retrait ; and how you got out of the windie, and how you
comes near to breaking yer neck by a fall becaase of the
fut's slipping ; and how ye wint down the roof by a rope,
the divil a bit fastening it to yer neck, but houlding it in yer
hand with sich a grip as if 'twere the fait' of the church
itself; and how Nick led ye to the hole out of which ye
bot' wint, as if ye had been two cats going t'rough a door !"

Mike stopped to grin and look wise, as he recounted the
manner of the escape, the outlines of which, however, were
sufficiently well known to his auditors before he began.

" Throw away that stick, now, and let us know where
this hole is, and what you mean by it."

" No" — answered Mike, looking at the stick, in a doubt
ing manner — " I '11 not t'row it away, wld yer honour's Pave,
'till I 've told ye how we got into the brook, forenent the
forest, and waded up to the woods, where we was all the
same as if we had been two bits of clover tops hid in a hay
mow. That Nick is a cr'ature at consailment !"

" Go on," said the captain, patiently, knowing that there
was no use in hurrying one of Mike's peculiar mode of
communicating his thoughts. " What came next ?"

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 95

" That will I ; and the r'ason comes next, as is seen by
this oder stick. And, so, Nick and mcself was in the chap
lain's room all alone, and n'ither of us had any mind to
dhrink; Nick becaase he was a prisoner and ll-lt crass, and
full of dignity like; and meself becaase I was a sentinel;
and sarjeant Joyce, there, had tould me, the Lord knows
how often, that if I did my duty well, I might come to be a
corporal, which was next in rank to himself; barring, too,
that I was a sentinel, and a drunken sentinel is a disgrace
to a man, sowl and body, and musket."

" And so neither of you drank ?" — put in the captain, by
way of a reminder.

" For that same r'ason, and one betther still, as we had
nothin' to dhrink. Well, says Nick — ' Mike,' says he —
1 you like cap'in, and Missus, and Miss Beuly, and Miss
Maud, and the babby ?' * Divil burn ye, Nick,' says I, 'why
do ye ask so foolish a question ? Is it likes ye would know?
Well — then just ask yerself if you likes yer own kith and
kin, and ye 've got yer answer.' "

" And Nick made his proposal, on getting this answer,"
interrupted the captain, " which was "

'• Here it is, on the stick. ' Well,' says Nick, says he —
* run away wid Nick, and see Majjor ; bring back news.
Nick cap'in friend, but cap'in don't know it — won't believe1
— Fait', I can't tell yer honour all Nick said, in his own
manner ; and so, wid yer 1'ave, I Ml just tell it in my own
way."

" Any way, Mike, so that you do but tell it."

" Nick 's a cr'ature ! His idee was for us two to get out
of the windie, and up on the platform, and to take the bed-
cord, and other things, and slide down upon the ground —
and we did it ! As sure as yer honour and the sarjeant is
there, we did that same, and no bones broke ! * Well,' says
I, « Nick, ye 're here, sure enough, but how do you mane to
get out of here? Is it climb the palisades ye will, and be
shot by a sentinel ?' — if there was one, which there wasn't,
yer honour, seeing that all had run away — * or do ye mane
to stay here,' says I, 'and be taken a prisoner of war ag'in,
in which case ye '11 be two prisoners, seein' that ye 've been
taken wonst already, will ye Nick ?' says I. So Nick never
spoke, but he held up his finger, and made a sign for me to

96 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

follow, as follow I did ; and we just crept through the pa
lisade, and a mhighty phratty walk we had of it, alang the
meadies, and t'rough the lanes, the rest of the way."

" You crept through the palisades, Mike ! There is no
outlet of sufficient size."

" I admits the hole is a tight squaze, but 'twill answer.
And then it's just as good for an inlet as it is for an outlet,
seein' that I came t'rough it this very marnin'. Och ! Nick's
acr'ature! And how d'ye think that hole comes there,
barring all oversights in setting up the sticks?"

" It has not been made intentionally, I should hope,
O'Hearn?"

" 'Twas made by Joel, and that by just sawing off a post,
and forcin' out a pin or two, so that the palisade works
like a door. Och ! it 's nately contrived, and it manes mis
chief."

" This must be looked to, at once," cried the captain ;
" lead the way, Mike, and show us the spot."

As the Irishman was nothing loth, all three were soon in
the court, whence Mike led the way through the gate, round
to the point where the stockade came near the cliffs, on the
eastern side of the buildings. This was the spot where the
path that led down to the spring swept along the defences,
and was on the very route by which the captain contem
plated retreating, as well as on that by which Maud had
entered the Hut, the night of the invasion. At a convenient
place, a palisade had been sawed off, so low in the ground
that the sods, which had been cut and were moveable, con
cealed the injury, while the heads of the pins that ought to
have bound the timber to the cross-piece, were in their holes,
leaving everything apparently secure. On removing the
sods, and pushing the timber aside, the captain ascertained
that a man might easily pass without the stockade. As this
corner was the most retired within the works, there was no
longer any doubt that the hole had been used by all the de
serters, including the women and children. In what manner
it became known to Nick, however, still remained matter
of conjecture. •

Orders were about to be given to secure this passage,
when it occurred to the captain it might possibly be of use
in effecting his own retreat. With this object in view, then,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 07

he hastened away from the place, lest any wandering eye
without might detect his {manioc near it, and conjecture the
cans.-. On returning to the library, the examination of Mike
u;ts ivsmiK.ul.

As the reader must be greatly puzzled with the county
Lrii run-man's manner of expressing himself, we shall relate
the substance of what he now uttered, for the sake of bre
vity. It would seem that Nick had succeeded in persuading
Mike, first, that he, the Tuscarora, was a fast friend of the
captain and his family, confined by the former, in conse
quence of a misconception of the real state of the Indian's
feelings, much to the detriment of all their interests ; and
that no better service could be rendered the Willoughbys
than to let Nick depart, and for the Irishman to go with
him. Mike, however, had not the slightest idea of desertion,
the motive which prevailed on him to quit the Hut being a
desire to see the major, and, if possible, to help him escape.
As soon as this expectation was placed before his eyes, Mike
became a convert to the Indian's wishes. Like ail exceed
ingly zealous men, the Irishman had an itching propensity
to be doing, and he was filled with a sort of boyish deliirht
at the prospect of effecting a great service to those whom he
so well loved, without their knowing it. Such was the his
tory of Michael's seeming desertion ; that of what occurred
after he quitted the works remains to be related.

The Tuscarora led his companion out of the Hut, within
half an hour after they had been left alone together, in the
room of Mr. Woods. As this was subsequently to Joel's
fliirht, Nick, in anticipation of this event, chose to lie in
ambush a short time, in order to ascertain whether the de-
fi-rtion was likely to go any further. Satisfied on this head,
In- quietly retired towards tho mill. After making a sufficient
ditonr to avoid being seen from the house, Nick gave him
self no trouble about getting into the woods, or of practising
any of the expedients of a time of real danger, as had been
done by all of the deserters ; but he walked leisurely across
the meadows, until he struck the highway, along which he
proceeded forthwith to the rocks. All this was done in a
way that showed he felt himself at home, and that he had
no apprehensions of falling into an ambush. It might have
arisen from his familiarity with the ground; or, it might
VOL. II. — 9

98 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

have proceeded from the consciousness that he was ap
proaching friends, instead of enemies.

At the rocks, however, Nick did not deem it wise to lead
Mike any further, without some preliminary caution. The
white man was concealed in one of the clefts, therefore,
while the Indian pursued his way alone. The latter was
absent an hour ; at the end of that time he returned, and,
after giving Mike a great many cautions about silence and
prudence, he led him to the cabin of the miller, in the buttery
of which Robert Willoughby was confined. To this buttery
there was a window ; but, as it was so small as to prevent
escape, no sentinel had been placed on the outside of the
building. For his own comfort, too, and in order to possess
his narrow lodgings to himself, the major had given a species
of parole, by which he was bound to remain in duresse,
until the rising of the next sun. Owing to these two causes,
Nick had been enabled to approach the window, and to hold
communications with the prisoner. This achieved, he re
turned to the rocks, and led Mike to the same spot.

Major Willoughby had not been able to write much,
in consequence of the darkness. That which he communi
cated, accordingly, had to pass through the fiery ordeal of
the Irishman's brains. As a matter of course it did not
come with particular lucidity, though Mike did succeed in
making his auditors comprehend this much.

The major was substantially well treated, though intima
tions had been given that he would be considered as a spy.
Escape seemed next to impossible ; still, he should not easily
abandon the hope. From all he had seen, the party was
one of that irresponsible character that would render capitu
lation exceedingly hazardous, and he advised his father to
hold out to the last. In a military point of view, he consi
dered his captors as contemptible, being without a head ;
though many of the men — the savages in particular — ap
peared to be ferocious and reckless. The whole party was
guarded in discourse, and little was said in English, though
he was convinced that many more whites were present than
he had at first believed. Mr. Woods he had not seen, nor
did he '•-now anything of his arrest or detention.

This much Mike succeeded in making the captain com
prehend, though a great deal was lost through the singular

THE IIUTTED KNOLL. 99

confusion that prevailed in the mind of the messenger. Mike,
however, IKK! still (uoot her communication, which we reserve
for the ears of the person to whom it was especially sent.

This news produced a pause in captain Willoughby's de
termination. Some of the lire of youth awoke within him,
and he debated witii himself on the possibility of making a
sortie, and of liberating his son, as a step preliminary to
victory; or, at least, to a successful retreat. Acquainted
with every foot of the ground, which had singular facilities
for a step so bold, the project found favour in his eyes each
minute, and soon became fixed.

CHAPTER VIII.

'* Another love

In its lone woof began to twine;
But, ah ! the golden thread was wove
That bound my sister's heart in mine !"

WILLIS.
«

WHILE the captain and Joyce were digesting their plans,
Mike proceeded on an errand of peculiar delicacy with which
he had been entrusted by Robert Willoughby. The report
that he had returned flew through the dwellings, and many
were the hearty greetings and shakings of the hand that tho
honest fellow had to undergo from the Plinys and Smashes,
ere he was at liberty to set about the execution of this trust.
The wenches, in particular, having ascertained that Mike
had not broken his fast, insisted on his having a comfortable
meal, in a sort of servants' hall, before they would con>i-nt
to his quitting their sight. As the county Leitrim-man was
singularly ready with a knife and fork, he made no very
determined opposition, and, in a few minutes, he was hare
at work, discussing a cold ham, with the other collaterals
of a substantial American breakfast.

The blacks, the Smashes inclusive, had been seriously
alarmed at t'ie appearance of the invading party. Between
them and the whole family of red-men there existed a sort
of innate dislike ; an antipathy that originated in colour, and

100 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

wool, and habits, and was in no degree lessened by appre
hensions on the score of scalps.

" How you look, ole Plin, widout wool?" Big Smash had
reproachfully remarked, not five minutes before Mike made
his appearance in the kitchen, in answer to some apologetic
observation of her husband, as to the intentions of the .
savages being less hostile than he had at first imagined ;
" why you say dey no murder, and steal and set fire, when
you know dey's Injin ! Natur' be natur' ; and dat I hear
dominie Woods say t'ree time one Sunday. What 'e dominie
say often, he mean, and dere no use in saying dey don't
come to do harm."

As Great Smash was an oracle in her own set, there was
no gainsaying her dogmas, and Pliny the elder was obliged
to succumb. But the presence of Mike, one who was under
stood to have been out, near, if not actually in, the enemy's
camp, and a great favourite in the bargain, was a circum
stance likely to revive the discourse. In fact, all the negroes
crowded into the hall, as soon as the Irishman was seated
at table, one or two eager to talk, the rest as eager to listen.

"How near you been, to sabbage, Michael?" demanded
Big Smash, her two large coal-black eyes seeming to open
in a degree proportioned to her interest in the answer.

" I wint as nigh as there was occasion, Smash, and that
was nigher than the likes of yer husband there would be
thinking of travelling. Maybe 'twas as far as from my
plate here to yon door; maybe not quite so far. They're
a dhirty set, and I wish to go no nearer."

" What dey look like, in 'e dark?" inquired Little Smash
— " Awful as by daylight ?"

" It's not meself that stopped to admire 'em. Nick and
I had our business forenent us, and when a man is hurried,
it isn't r'asonable to suppose he can kape turning his head
about to see sights."

" What dey do wid Misser Woods ? — What sabbage want
wid dominie?"

" Sure enough, little one ; and the question is of yer own
asking. A praist, even though he should be only a heretic,
can have no great call for his sarvices, in sick a congrega
tion. And, I don't think the fellows are blackguards enough
f.o scalp a parson."

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 101

Then followed a flood of incoherent questions that wcro
put by all the blacks in a body, accompanied by divers looks
ominous of tin- most serious disasters, blended with bursts
of laughter that broke out of their risible natures in a way
to render the medley of sensations as ludicrous as it was
strange. Mike soon found answering a task too diilicult to
be attempted, and he philosophically came to a determina
tion to confine: his efforts to masticating.

Notwithstanding the terror that actually prevailed among
the blacks, it was not altogether unmixed with a resolution
to die with arms in their hands, in preference to yielding to
savage clemency. Hatred, in a measure, supplied the place
of courage, though both sexes had insensibly imbibed some
of that resolution which is the result of habit, and of which
a border life is certain to instil more or less into its subjects,
in a form suited to border emergencies. Nor was this feel
ing confined to the men ; the two Smashes, in particular,
'being women capable of achieving acts that would be thought
heroic under circumstances likely to arouse their feelings.

" Now, Smashes," said Mike, when, by his own calcula
tion, he had about three minutes to the termination of his
breakfast before him, "ye '11 do what I tells ye, and no
questions asked. Ye '11 find the laddies, Missus, and Miss
P.euly, and Mi>s Maud, and ye '11 give my humble respects
to 'em all — divil the bit, now, will ye be overlooking eithei
of the t'ree, but ye '11 do ycr errand genteely and like a
laddy yerself — and ye '11 give my jcwty and respects to 'em
a//, I tells ye, and say that Michael O'Hearn asks the ho
nour of being allowed to wish 'em ^ood morning."

Little Smash screamed at this message ; yet she went,
forthwith, and delivered it, making reasonably free with
Michael's manner and gallantry in so doiiiLr.

"O'Hearn has something to tell us from Rol>ert" — -aM
Mrs. Willoughby, who had been made acquainted with tho
Irishman's exploits and return ; " he must be suffered to
come in as soon as he desires."

With this reply, Little Smash terminated her mission.
" And now, laddies and gentlemen," said Mike, with
gravity, as lie rose to quit the servants' hall, "my blessing
and good wishes be wid ye. A hearty male have I had at
yer hands and yer cookery, and good thanks it desarvos.
9*

102 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

As for the Injins, jist set yer hearts at rest, as not one of
ye will be scalp'd the day, seeing that the savages are all to
be fbrenent the mill this morning, houlding a great council,
as I knows from Nick himself. A comfortable time, then,
ye may all enjoy, wid yer heads on yer shoulters, and yer
wool on yer heads."

Mike's grin, as he retreated, showed that he meant to be
facetious, having all the pleasantry that attends a full sto
mach uppermost in his animal nature at that precise moment.
A shout rewarded this sally, and the parties separated with
mutual good humour and good feeling. In this state of
mind, the county Leitrim-man was ushered into the presence
of the ladies. A few words of preliminary explanations
were sufficient to put Mike in the proper train, when he
came at once to his subject.

" The majjor is no way down-hearted," he said, " and he
ordered me to give his jewty and riverence, and obligations,
to his honoured mother and his sisters. ' Tell 'em, Mike,'
says he, says the majjor, ' that I feels for 'em, all the same
as if I was their own fader ; and tell 'em,' says he, ' to keep
up their spirits, and all will come right in the ind. This is
a throublesome wor-r-ld, but they that does their jewties to
God and man, and the church, will not fail, in the long
run, to wor-r-k their way t'rough purgatory even, into para
dise.' "

" Surely my son — my dear Robert — never sent us such
a message as this, Michael ?"

" Every syllable of it, and a quantity moor that has slipped
my memory," answered the Irishman, who was inventing,
but who fancied he was committing a very pious fraud — •
" 'Twould have done the Missuses heart good to have listen
ed to the majjor, who spoke more in the charac&ter of a
praist, like, than in that of a souldier."

All three of 'the ladies looked a little abashed, though
there was a gleam of humour about the mouth of Maud,
that showed she was not very far from appreciating the
Irishman's report at its just value. As for Mrs. Willoughby
and Beulah, less acquainted with Mike's habits, they did not
so readily penetrate his manner of substituting his own de
sultory thoughts for the ideas of others.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 103

" As I am better acquainted with Mike's language, dear
mother" — whispered Maud — " {>erhaps it will be well if I
take him into the library and question him a little between
ourselves about what actually passed. Depend on it, I shall
get the truth."

" Do, my child, for it really pains me to hear Robert so
much misrepresented — and, as Evert must now begin to
!<leas, I really do not like that his uncle should be so
placed before the dear little fellow's mind."

Maud did not even smile at this proof of a grandmother's
weakness, though she felt and saw all its absurdity. Heart
was ever so much uppermost with the excellent matron,
that it was not easy for those she loved to regard anything
but her virtues ; and least of all did her daughter presume
to indulge in even a thought that was ludicrous at her ex
pense. Profiting by the assent, therefore, Maud quietly
made a motion for Mike to follow, and proceeded at once to
the room she had named.

Not a word was exchanged between the parties until both
were in the library, when Maud carefully closed the door,
her face pale as marble, and stood looking inquiringly at her
companion. The reader will understand that, Mr. Woods and
Joyce excepted, not a soul at the Hut, out of the limits of
the Willoughby connection, knew anything of our heroine's
actual relation to the captain and his family. It is true,
some of the oldest of the blacks had once some vague no
tions on the subject; but their recollections had become
obscured by time, and habit was truly second nature with
all of the light-hearted race.

" That was mighty injanious of you, Miss Maud !" Mike
commenced, giving one of his expressive grins again, and
fairly winking. " It shows how fri'nds wants no spache but
their own minds. Barrin' mistakes and crass-accidents, I 'm
sartain that Michael O'Hearn can make himself understood
any day by Miss Maud Willoughby, an' niver a word said."

" Your success then, Mike, will be greater at dumb-show
than it always is with your tongue," answered the young
lady, the blood slowly returning to her cheek, the accidental
use of the name of Willoughby removing the apprehension
of anything immediately embarrassing ; " what have you to
tell me that you suppose I have anticipated ?"

104 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" Sure, the like o' yees needn't be tould, Miss Maud, that
the majjor bad me spake to ye by yerself, and say a word
that was not to be overheerd by any one else."

" This is singular — extraordinary even — but let me know
more, though the messenger be altogether so much out
of the common v/ay !"

" I t'ought ye 'd say that, when ye come to know me. Is
it meself that's a messenger? and where is there another
that can carry news widout spilling any by the way ? Nick's
a. cr'ature, I allows ; but the majjor know'd a million times
bhetter than to trust an Injin wid sich a jewty. As for Joel,
and that set of vagabonds, we '11 grind 'em all in the mill,
before we've done wid 'em. Let 'em look for no favours,
if they wishes no disapp'intment."

Maud sickened at the thought of having any of those sa
cred feelings connected with Robert Willoughby that she
had so long cherished in her inmost heart, rudely probed by
so unskilful a hand; though her last conversation with the
young soldier had told so much, even while it left so much
unsaid, that she could almost kneel and implore Mike to be
explicit. The reserve of a woman, notwithstanding, taught
her how to preserve her sex's decorum, and to maintain
appearances.

" If major Willoughby desired you to communicate any
thing to me, in particular," she said, with seeming compo
sure, " I am ready to hear it."

" Divil the word did he desire, Miss Maud, for everything
was in whispers between us, but jist what I 'm about to
repait. And here 's my stick, that Nick tould me to kape
as a reminderer; it's far bhetter for me than a book, as I
can't read a syllable. ' And now, Mike,' says the majjor,
says he, 4 conthrive to see phratty Miss Maud by her
self "

" Pretty Miss Maud !" interrupted the young lady, invo
luntarily.

" Och ! it 's meself that says that, and sure there 's plenty
of r'ason for it ; so we '11 agree it 's all right and proper—
" phratty Miss Maud by herself, letting no mortal else know
what you are about. That was the majjor's."

" It is very extraordinary ! — Perhaps it will be better,
Michael, if you tell me nothing but what is strictly the

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 105

major's. A message should be delivered as nearly like the
words that were actually sent as possible."

k> \Vi.r-r-ds ! — And it isn't wor-r-ds at all, that I have to
give ye."

"If not a mexsaue in words, in what else can it be? —
Xot in sticks, surely."

•• In tlniT — cried .Mike, exultingly — "and, I'll warrant,
when the trut' comes out, that very little bit of silver will bo
found as good as forty Injin scalps."

Although Mike put a small silver snuff-box that Maud at
once recognised as Robert Willoughby's property into the
young lady's hand, nothing was more apparent than the
circumstance that he was profoundly ignorant of the true
meaning of what he was doing. The box was very beauti
ful, and his mother and Beulah had often laughed at the
major for using an article that was then deemed tic r lift/cur
for a man of extreme ton, when all his friends knew ho
never touched snuff. So far from using the stimulant,
nidi •(•(!, he never would show how the box was opened, a
se.-ret spring existing; and he even manifested or betrayed
shyness on the subject of suffering1 either of his sisters to
vaivh for the means of doing so.

The moment Maud saw the box, her heart beat tumultu-
ously. She had a presentiment that her fate was about to
be decided. Still, she had sufficient self-command to make
an effort to learn all her companion had to communicate.

" Major Willoughby gave you this box," she said, her
voice trembling in spite of herself. "Did he send any me,.
sage with it? Recollect yourself; the words may be very
important."

" Is it the wor-r-ds ? Well, it 's little or them that p
between us, barrin' that the Injins was so near by, that it
was whisper we did, and not a bit else."

" Still there must have been some message."

"Ye are as wise as a sarpent, Miss Maud, as Father
O'Loony used to tell us all of a Sunday ! Was it wor-r-ds ! —
' (Jive that to Miss Maud,' says the majjor, says he, * and
tell her she is now mist/ircss of mi/ sat

" Did he say this, Michael ? — For heaven's sake, be cer
tain of what -you tell me."

106 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

"Irish Mike — Masser want you in monstrous hurry,"
cried the youngest of the three black men, thrusting his
glistening lace into the door, announcing the object of the
intrusion, and disappearing almost in the same instant.

" Do not leave me, O'Hearn," said Maud, nearly gasping
for breath, " do not leave me without an assurance there is
no mistake."

" Divil bur-r-n me if I 'd brought the box, or the message,
or anything like it, phretty Miss Maud, had I t'ought it would
have done this har-r-m."

" Michael O'Hearn," called the serjeant from the court,
in his most authoritative military manner, and that on a key
that would not brook denial.

Mike did not dare delay ; in half a minute Maud found
herself standing alone, in the centre of the library, holding
the well-known snuff-box of Robert Willoughby in her little
hand. The renowned caskets of Portia had scarcely excited
more curiosity in their way than this little silver box of the
major's had created in the mind of Maud. In addition to his
playful evasions about letting her and Beulah pry into its
mysteries, he had once said to herself, in a grave and feel
ing manner, " When you get at the contents of this box,
dear girl, you will learn the great secret of my life." These
words had made a deep impression at the time — it was in
his visit of the past year — but they had been temporarily
forgotten in the variety of events and stronger sensations
that had succeeded. Mike's message, accompanied by the
box itself, however, recalled them, and Maud fancied that
the major, considering himself to be in some dangerous
emergency, had sent her the bauble in order that she might
learn what that secret was. Possibly he meant her to com
municate it to others. Persons in our heroine's situation
feel, more than they reason ; and it is possible Maud might
have come to some other conclusion had she been at leisure,
or in a state of mind to examine all the circumstances in a
more logical manner.

Now she was in possession of this long-coveted box —
coveted at least so far as a look into its contents were con
cerned — Maud not only found herself ignorant of the secret
by which it was opened, but she had scruples, about using
the means, even had she been in possession of them. At

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 101

first she thought of carrying the thing to Bculah, and of
asking if sh«- know any way of getting at the spring; then
she shrunk from the exposure that might possibly attend
such a step. The motv >hi.' reflected, the more she felt con
vinced that Robert Willoughby would not have sent her that
particular box, unless it were connected with herself, in
SOUR; way more than common ; and ever since the conver
sation in the painting-room she had seen glimmerings of the
truth, in relation to his feelings. These glimmerings too,
had aided her in better understanding her own heart, and all
her sentiments revolted at the thought of having a witness
to any explanation that might relate to the subject. In every
event she determined, after a few minutes of thought, not to
speak of the message, or the present, to a living soul.

In this condition of mind, filled with anxiety, pleasing
doubts, apprehensions, shame, and hope, all relieved, how
ever, by the secret consciousness of perfect innocence, and
motives that angels might avow, Maud stood, in the very
spot where Mike had left her, turning the box in her hands,
when accidentally she touched the spring, and the lid flew
open. To glance at the contents was an act so natural and
involuntary as to anticipate reflection.

Nothing was visible but a piece of white paper, neatly
folded, and compressed into the box in a way to fill its in-
terior. "Bob has written," thought Maud — "Yet how
could he do this? He was in the dark, and had not pen or
paper !" Another look rendered this conjecture still more
improbable, as it showed the gilt edge of paper of the quality
used for notes, an article equally unlikely to be found in the
mill and in his own pocket. " Yet it must be a note," passed
through her mind, "and of course it was written before he
left the Hut — quite likely before he arrived — possibly the
year before, when he spoke of the box as containing tlio
evidence of the irrcat secret of his life."

Maud now wished for Mike, incoherent, unintelligible,
and blundering as he was, that she might question him still
further as to the precise words of the message. " Possibly
Bob did not intend me to open the box at all," she thought,
" and meant merely that I should keep it until he could
return to claim it. It contains a great secret ; and, because
he wishes to keep this secret from the Indians, it does not

108 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

follow that he intends to reveal it to me. I will shut the
box again, and guard his secret as I would one of my
own."

This was no sooner thought than it was done. A pressure
of the lid closed it, and Maud heard the snap of the spring
with a start. Scarcely was the act performed ere she
repented it. " Bob would not have sent the box without
some particular object," she went on to imagine ; " and had
he intended it not to be opened, he would have told as much
to O'Hearn. How easy would it have been for him to say,
and for Mike to repeat, ' tell her to keep the box till I ask
for it — it contains a secret, and I wish my captors not to
learn it.' No, he has sent the box with the design that 1
should examine its contents. His very life may depend on
my doing so; yes, and on my doing so this minute !"

This last notion no sooner glanced athwart our heroine's
mind, than she began diligently to search for the hidden
spring. Perhaps curiosity had its influence on the eagerness
to arrive at the secret, which she now manifested ; possibly
a tenderer and still more natural feeling lay concealed be
hind it all. At any rate, her pretty little fingers never were
employed more nimbly, and not a part of the exterior of the
box escaped its pressure. Still, the secret spring eluded her
search. The box had two or three bands of richly chased
work on each side of the place of opening, and amid these
ornaments Maud felt certain that the little projection she
sought must lie concealed. To examine these, then, she
commenced in a regular and connected manner, resolved
that not a single raised point should be neglected. Accident,
however, as before, stood her friend ; and, at a moment
when she least expected it, the lid flew back, once more
exposing the paper to view.

Maud had been too seriously alarmed about re-opening
the box, to hesitate a moment now, as to examining its con
tents. The paper was removed, and she began to unfold it
slowly, a slight tremor passing through her frame as she
did so. For a single instant she paused to scent the delight
ful and delicate perfume that seemed to render the interior
$acred ; then her fingers resumed their office. At each in
stant, her eyes expected to meet Robert Willoughby's well-
known hand-writing. But the folds of the paper opened on

j

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 109

a blank. To Maud's surprise, and, for a single exquisitely
painful moment, .sin- saw that a lock of hair was all the box
contained, bouirs the JKI[MT in which it was enveloped. I K-r
leok Ixvame anxious, and her face pale; then the eyes
brightened, and a blush that might well be likened to the
tints with which the approach of dawn illumines the sky,
suliused her checks, as, holding the hair to the light, the
li.ng ringlets dropped at length, and she recognised one of
those beautiful tresses, of which so many were falling at
that very moment, in rich profusion around her own lovely
laci-. To unloosen her hair from the comb, and to lay the
secret of Bob Willoughby by its side, in a way to compare
the glossy shades, was the act of only a moment ; it sufficed,
however, to bring a perfect conviction of the truth. Jt was a
memorial of herself, then, that Robert Willoughby so prized,
had so long guarded with care, and which he called the se
cret of his life !

It was impossible for Maud not to understand all this.
Robert Willoughby loved her; he had taken this mode of
telling his passion. He had been on the point of doing this
in words the very day before ; and now he availed himself
of the only means that offered of completing the tale. A
Hood of tenderness gushed to the heart of Maud, as she
passed over all this in her mind ; and, from that moment,
she ceased to feel shame at the recollection of her own at
tachment. She might still have shrunk a little from avowing
it to her father, and mother, and Bculah ; but, as to herself,
the world, and the object of her affections, she now stood
perfectly vindicated in her own eyes.

That was a precious half-hour which succeeded. For the
moment, all present dangers were lost siuht of, in the glow
of future hopes. .Maud's imagination portrayed scenes of
happiness, in which domestic duties, Bob beloved, almost
worshipped, and her father and mother happy in the felicity
of iheir children, were the prominent features ; while Bculah
and little Evert filled the back-ground of the picture in co
lours of pleasing softness. But the>e were illusions that
rould not last for ever, the fearful realities of her situation
returning with the urealer consciousness of existence. Still,
Bob might now be loved, without wounding any of the sen-

VoL.lI.— 10

HO THE HUTTED KNOLL.

sitiveness of her sex's opinions ; and dearly, engrossingly,
passionately was he rewarded, for the manner in which he
had thought of letting her know the true state of his heart,
at a moment when he had so much reason to think only of
himself.

It was time for Maud to return to her mother and sister.
The box was carefully concealed, leaving the hair in its old
envelope, and she hurried to the nursery. On entering the
room, she found that her father had just preceded her. The
captain was grave, more thoughtful than usual, and his wife,
accustomed to study his countenance for so much of her
happiness, saw at once that something lay heavy on his
mind.

" Has anything out of the way happened, Hugh ?" she
asked, " to give you uneasiness ?"

Captain Willoughby drew a chair to the side of that of
his wife, seated himself, and took her hand before he an
swered. Little Evert, who sat on her knee, was played
with, for a moment, as if to defer a disagreeable duty ; not
till then did he even speak.

" You know, dearest Wilhelmina," the captain finally
commenced, " that there have never been any concealments
between us, on the score of danger, even when I was a pro
fessed soldier, and might be said to carry my life in my
hand."

" You have ever found me reasonable, I trust, while feel
ing like a woman, mindful of my duty as a wife?"

"I have, love; this is the reason I have always dealt
with you so frankly."

" We understand each other, Hugh. Now tell me the
worst at once."

" I am not certain you will think there is any worst about
it, Wilhelmina, -as Bob's liberty is the object. I intend to
go out myself, at the head of all the white men that remain,
in order to deliver him from the hands of his enemies. This
will leave you, for a time — six or seven hours, perhaps —
in the Hut, with only the three blacks as a guard, and with
the females. You need have no apprehension of an assault,
however, everything indicating a different intention on the
part of our enemies ; on that score you may set your hearts

THE HUTTED KNOLL. Ill

" All my apprehensions mid prayers will be for you, my
husband — for ourselves, \\<- rap- not."

" This I expected ; it is to lessen these very apprehensions
that I have come to tell you my whole plan."

Captain \VilIoughby now related, with some minuteness,
; -stance of Mike's report, and his own plan, of the
last of which we have already given an outline. Every
thing had been well matured in his mind, and all promi« I
success. The men were apprised of the service on which
they were to be employed, and every one of them had mani-
the best spirit. They were then busy in equipping
tin -mselvcs ; in half an hour they would be ready to march.

To all this Mrs. Willoujrhby listened like a soldier's wife,
accustomed to the risks of a frontier warfare, though she
felt like a woman. Beulah pressed little Evert to her heart,
while her pallid countenance was turned to her father with
a look that seemed to devour every syllable. As for Maud,
a strange mixture of dread and wild delight were blended in
her bosom. To have Bob liberated, and restored to them,
was approaching perfect happiness, though it surpassed her
powers not to dread misfortunes. Nevertheless, the captain
IP clear in his explanations, so calm in his manner, and
of a judgment so approved, that his auditors felt far less
concern than might naturally have been expected.

CHAPTER IX.

" March — march — march !
M;ikin£ sounds as they tread,
Ho-ho ! how they step,
Going down to the dead."

COXE.

THE time Maud consumed in her meditations over thn
box and its contents, had been employed by the captain in
preparations for his enterprise. Joyce, young Blodgct, Jamie
nnd Mike, led by their commander in person, were to com
pose the whole force on the occasion ; and every man had
been busy in getting his arms, ammunition and provisions

112 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

ready, for the last half-hour. When captain Willoughby,
therefore, had taken leave of his family, he found the party
in a condition to move.

The first great desideratum was to quit the Hut unseen.
Joel and his followers were still at work, in distant fields ;
but they all carefully avoided that side of the Knoll which
would have brought them within reach of the musket, and
this left all behind the cliff unobserved, unless Indians were
in the woods in that direction. As Mike had so recently
passed in by that route, however, the probability was the
whole party still remained in the neighbourhood of the mills,
where all accounts agreed in saying they mainly kept. It
was the intention of the captain, therefore, to sally by the
rivulet and the rear of the house, and to gain the woods
under cover of the bushes on the banks of the former, as
had already been done by so many since the inroad.

The great difficulty was to quit the house, and reach the
bed of the stream, unseen. This step, however, was a good
deal facilitated by means of Joel's sally-port, the overseer
having taken, himself, all the precautions against detection
of which the case well admitted. Nevertheless, there was
the distance between the palisades and the base of the rocks,
some forty or fifty yards, which was entirely uncovered,
and had to be passed under the notice of any wandering
eyes that might happen to be turned in that quarter. After
much reflection, the captain and serjeant came to the con
clusion to adopt the following mode of proceeding.

Blodget passed the hole, by himself, unarmed, rolling
down the declivity until he reached the stream. Here a
thicket concealed him sufficiently, the bushes extending
along the base of the rocks, following the curvature of the
rivulet. Once within these bushes, there was little danger
of detection. As soon as it was ascertained that the young
man was beneath the most eastern of the outer windows of
the northern wing, the only one of the entire range that had
bushes directly under it, all the rifles were lowered down to
him, two at a time, care being had that no one should ap
pear at the window during the operation. This was easily
effected, jerks of the rope sufficing for the necessary signals
when to haul in the line. The ammunition succeeded ; and,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 113

in this manner, all the materials of offence and defence
>uon collected on the margin of the stivam.

The next step was to M-nd the men out, one by one,
imitating the precautions taken by Blodget. Each individual
had his own provisions, and most of the men carried some
sort of arms, -Mich as a pistol, or a knife, about his per
son. In half an hour the four men were armed, and waited
for the leader, concealed by the bushes on the border of the
brook. It only remained for captain Willoughby to give
some instructions to those he left in the Hut, and to follow.

Pliny the elder, in virtue of his years, and some •

in Indian warfare, succeeded to the command of the
garrison, in the absence of its chief'. Had there remained ;i
male white at the Knoll, this trust never could have devolved
on him, it being thought contrary to the laws of nature for
a negro to command one of the other colour; but such was
not the fact, and Pliny the elder succeeded pretty much as
a matter of course. Notwithstanding, he was to obey not
only his particular old mistress, but both his young rni.s-
, who exercised an authority over him that was not
to be disputed, without doing violence to all the received
notions of the day. To him, then, the captain issued his
final orders, bidding him be vigilant, and above all to keep
the gates closed.

As soon as this was done, the husband and father wont
to his wile and children to take a last embrace. Anxious
not to excite too strong apprehensions by his manner, this
was done affectionately — solemnly, perhaps — but with a
manner so guarded as to effect his object.

" I shall look for no other signal, or sign of success,
Hugh," said the weeping wife, " than your own return, ac
companied by our dearest boy. When I can hold you both
in my arms, I shall be happy, though all the Indians of the
continent were in the valley."

" Do not miscalculate as to time, Wilhelmina. That
affectionate heart of yours sometimes travels over time and
space in a way to give its owner unnecessary pain. Re
member we shall have to proceed with great caution, both
in going and returning; and it will require hours to make
the detour I have in view. I hope to see you again before
10*

114 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

sunset, but a delay may carry us into the night. It may
even become necessary to defer the final push until after
dark."

This was melancholy intelligence for the females ; but
they listened to it with calmness, and endeavoured to be, as
well as to seem, resigned. Beulah received her father's
kiss and blessing with streaming eyes, straining little Evert
to her heart as he left her. Maud was the last embraced.
lie even led her, by gentle violence, to the court, keeping
her in discourse by the way, exhorting her to support her
mother's spirits by her own sense and steadiness.

" I shall have Bob in the Hut, soon," he added, " and
this will repay us all for more than twice the risks — all but
you, little vixen ; for your mother tells me you are getting,
through some caprice of that variable humour of your sex,
to be a little estranged from the poor fellow."

" Father !"

"Oil know it is not very serious ; still, even Beulah
tells me you once called him a Major of Foot."

" Did 1 1" said Maud, trembling in her whole frame lest
her secret had been prematurely betrayed by the very at
tempt to conceal it. " My tongue is not always my heart."

" I know it, darling, unless where I am concerned. Treat
the son as you will, Maud, I am certain that you will always
love the father." A pressure to the heart, and kisses on
the forehead, eyes, and cheeks followed. " You have all
your own papers, Maud, and can easily understand your
own affairs. When examined into, it will be seen that
every shilling of your fortune has gone to increase it; and,
little hussy, you are now become something like a great
heiress."

"What does this mean, dearest, dearest father? Your
words frighten, me !"

" They should not, love. Danger is never increased by
being prepared to meet it. I have been a steward, and
wish it to be known that the duty has not been unfaith
fully discharged. That is all. A hundred-fold am I repaid
by possessing so dutiful and sweet a child."

Maud fell on her father's bosom and sobbed. Never
before had he made so plain allusions to the true relations
which existed between them ; the papers she possessed hav-

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 115

ing spoken for themselves, and havm-/ been given in silence.
rtheless, as he appeared disposed to proceed no further,
at present, the poor girl struggled to command herself, sue-
ceedcd in part, : .v«-.l her lather's Benediction, m-»-t

solemnly and tenderly delivered, and saw him depart, with
an air of calmm>s that subsequently astonished even h-r-

\Ve must now quit the interesting group that was left
behind in the Hut, and accompany the adventurers in their
march.

Captain Willounhhy was obliged to imitate his men, in
the Mode df quilting the, j)alisades. He had dressed himself
in the American hunting-shirt and trowsers for the occasion;
and, this being an attire he now rarely used, it greatly
diminished the chances of his being recognised, if si in.
Joyce was in a similar garb, though neither Jamie nor Mike
could ever be persuaded to assume a style that both insisted
so much resembled that of the Indians. As for Blodget, he
was in the usual dress of a labourer.

As soon as he had reached the bottom of the cliff, the
captain let the fact be known to Old Pliny, by using his
voice with caution, though sufficiently loud to be heard on the
staging of the roof, directly above his head. The black had
been instructed to watch Joel and his companions, in order
to ascertain if they betrayed, in their movements, any con
sciousness of what was in progress at the Hut. The report
was favourable, Pliny assuring his master that " all 'e men
work, sir, just as afore. Joel hammer away at plough-
handle, tinkerin' just like heself. Not an eye turn dis away,
massa."

Encouraged by this assurance, the whole party stole
through the bushes, that lined this part of the base of the
cliffs, until they entered the bed of the stream. It was
September, and the water was so low, as to enable the party
to move along the margin of the rivulet dry-shod, occasion-
ally stepping from stone to stone. The latter expedient,
indeed, was adopted wherever circumstances allowed, with
a view to leave as few traces of a trail as was praciicable.
Otherwise the cover was complete; the winding of the rivu
let preventing any distant view through its little reache..
and the thick fringe of the bushes on each bank, effectually

116 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

concealing the men against any passing, lateral, glimpse of
their movements.

Captain Willoughby had, from the first, apprehended an
assault from this quarter. The house, in its elevation, how
ever, possessed an advantage that would not be enjoyed by
an enemy on the ground ; and, then, the cliff offered very
serious obstacles to anything like a surprise on that portion
of the defences. Notwithstanding, he now led his men,
keeping a look riveted on the narrow lane in his front, far
from certain that each turn might not bring him in presence
of an advancing party of the enemy. No such unpleasant
encounter occurred ; and the margin of the forest was
gained, without any appearance of the foe, and seemingly
without discovery.

Just within the cover of the woods, a short reach of the
rivulet lay fairly in sight, from the rear wing of the dwell
ings. It formed a beautiful object in the view ; the ardent
and tasteful Maud having sketched the silvery ribbon of
water, as it was seen retiring within the recesses of the
forest, and often calling upon others to admire its loveliness
and picturesque effect. Here the captain halted, and made
a signal to Old Pliny, to let him know he waited for an
answer. The reply was favourable, the negro showing the
sign that all was still well. This was no sooner done,
than the faithful old black hurried down to his mistress, to
communicate the intelligence that the party was safely in
the forest; while the adventurers turned, ascended the bank
of the stream, and pursued their way on more solid ground.

Captain Willoughby and his men were now fairly en
gaged in the expedition, and every soul of them felt the
importance and gravity of the duty he was on. Even Mike
was fain to obey the order to be silent, as the sound of a
voice, indiscreetly used, might betray the passage of the
party to some outlying scouts of the enemy. Caution was
even used in treading on dried sticks, lest their cracking
should produce the same effect.

The sound of the axe was heard in the rear of the cabins
coming from a piece of woodland the captain had ordered
cleared, with the double view of obtaining fuel, and of in
creasing his orchards. This little clearing was near a quar
ter of a mile from the flats, the plan being, still to retain a

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 117

belt of forest round the latter ; and it might have covered
half-a-dozen acres of land, having n<»\v been UM -d lour or
five years for the same purpose. To pass between this
clearing and tlie cabins would have been too hazardous, and
it became mve>sary to direct the march in a way to turn

till? former.

The cow-paths answered as guides for quite a mile, Mike

being thoroughly acquainted with all their sinuosities. Tho

capiain and serjeant, however, each carried a pocket com-

an instrument without which lew ventured far into the

i. Then the blows of the axes served as sounds to

Id the adventurers know their relative position, and, as they

circled the place whence they issued, they gave the constant

assurance of their own progress, and probable security.

The reader will probably comprehend the nature of the
ground over which our party was now marching. The
* flats' proper, or the site of the old Beaver Dam, have
already been described. The valley, towards the south, ter
minated at the rocks of the mill, changing its character be
low that point, to a glen, or vast ravine. On the east were
mountains of considerable height, and of unlimited range;
to the north, the level land extended miles, though on a plat
form many feet higher than the level of the cleared mea
dows; while, to the west, along the route the adventurers
were marching, broad slopes of rolling forest spread their
richly-wooded surfaces, filled with fair promise for the fu
ture. The highest swell of this undulating fmvst was that
nearest t«» the Hut, and it was its elevation only that gave
the home-scene the character of a valley.

Captain Willoughby's object was to gain the summit of
this first ridge of land, which would serve as a guide to his
object, since it terminated at the line of rocks that made the
waterfall, quite a mile, however, in the rear of the mills.
It would carry him also quite beyond the clearing of the
wood-choppers, and be effectually turning the whole of the
enemy's position. Once at the precipitous termination
caused by the face of rock that had been thrown to the sur
face by some geological phenomenon, he could not miss his
way, since these rugged marks must of themselves lead him
directly to the station known to be occupied by thu body of
his foes.

118 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

Half an hour served to reach the desired ridge, when the
party changed its march, pursuing a direction nearly south,
along its summit.

" Those axes sound nearer and nearer, serjeant," Captain
Willoughby observed, after the march had lasted a long
time in profound silence. " We must be coming up near
the point where the men are at work."

"Does your honour reflect at all on the reason why
these fellows are so particularly industrious in a time like
this ? — To me it has a very ambuscadish sort of look !"

" It cannot be connected with an ambuscade, Joyce, inas
much as we are not supposed to be on a march. There
can be no ambuscade, you will remember, practised on a
garrison."

" I ask your honour's pardon — may not a sortie be am
bushed, as well as a march?"

" In that sense, perhaps, you may be right. And, now
you mention it, I think it odd there should be so much in
dustry at wood-chopping, in a moment like this. We will
halt as soon as the sounds are fairly abreast of us, when
you and I can reconnoitre the men, and ascertain the appear
ance of things for ourselves."

" I remember, sir, when your honour led out two compa
nies of ours, with one of the Royal Irish, a major's command,
of good rights, to observe the left flank of the French, the
evening before we stormed the enemy's works at Ty — "

" Your memory is beginning to fail you, Joyce," inter
rupted the captain, smiling. " We were far from storming
those works, having lost two thousand men before them, and
failed of seeing their inside at all."

" I always look upon a soldierly attempt, your honour,
the same as a thing that is done. A more gallant stand
than we made .1 never witnessed ; and, though we were
driven back, I will allow, yet I call that assault as good as
storming !"

"Well, have it your own way, Joyce. — The morning
before your storming, I remember to have led out three
companies ; though it was more in advance, than on either
flank. The object was to unmask a suspected ambush."

" That's just what I wanted to be at, your honour. The
general sent you, as an old captain, with three companies,

THE IIUTTKD KNOLL. 119

to spring the trap, before lie should put his own foot
into it."

" He certainly did — and the movement had the desired
effect:'

" Bettor and belter, sir. — I remember we were fired on,
and lost sonic ten or fifteen men, but I would not presume
to say whether the march succeeded or not; for nothing
was said of the affair, next day, in general orders, sir — "

"Next day we had other matters to occupy our minds.
It was a bloody and a mournful occasion for England and
her colonies."

" Well, your honour, that does not affect our movement,
which, you say, yourself, was useful."

" Very true, Joyce, though the great calamity of the suc
ceeding day prevented the little success of the preceding
morning from being mentioned in general orders. But to
what does all this tend ; as I know it must lead to something ?"

" It was merely meant as a respectful hint, your honour,
that the inferior should be sent out, now, according to our
own ancient rules, to reconn'itre the clearing, while the
commander-in-chief remain with the main body, to cover the
retreat."

" I thank you, serjeant, and shall not fail to employ you,
on all proper occasions. At present, it is my intention that
we go together, leaving the men to take breath, in a suitable
cover."

This satisfied Joyce, who was content to wait for orders.
As soon as the sounds of the axes showed that the party
were far enough in advance, and the formation of the land
assured the captain that he was precisely where he wished
to be, the men were halted, and left secreted in a cover
made by the top of a fallen tree. This precaution was
taken, k-st any wandering savage might get a glimpse of
their persons, if they stood lounging about in the more open
forest, during the captain's absence.

This disposition made, the captain and serjeant, first ex
amining the priming of their pieces, moved with the neces
sary camion towards the edge of the wood-chopper's clear
ing- The axe was a sufficient guide, and ere they had pro-
1 far the light began to shine through the trees, proof
in itself that they were approaching an opening in the forest.

120 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" Let us incline to the left, your honour," said Joyce, re
spectfully ; " there is a naked rock hereabouts, that com
pletely overlooks the clearing, and where we can get even
a peep at the Hut. I have often sat on it, when out with
the gun, and wearied ; for the next thing to being at home,
is to see home."

" I remember the place, serjeant, and like your sugges
tion," answered the captain, with an eagerness that it was
very unusual for him to betray. " I could march with a
lighter heart, after getting another look at the Knoll, and
being certain of its security."

The parties being both of a mind, it is not surprising
that each looked eagerly for the spot in question. It was
an isolated rock that rose some fifteen or twenty feet above
the surface of the ground, having a width and depth about
double its height — one of those common excrescences of
the forest that usually possess interest for no one but the
geologist. Such an object was not difficult to find in an
open wood, and the search was soon rewarded by a dis
covery. Bending their steps that way, our two soldiers
were quickly at its base. As is usual, the summit of this
fragment of rock was covered with bushes ; others shooting
out, also, from the rich, warm earth at its base, or, to speak
more properly, at its junction with the earth.

Joyce ascended first, leaving his rifle in the captain's
charge. The latter followed, after having passed up his
own and his companion's arms ; neither being disposed to
stir without having these important auxiliaries at command.
Once on the rock, both moved cautiously to its eastern brow,
care being had not to go beyond the cover. Here they
stood, side by side, gazing on the scene that was outspread
before them, through openings in the bushes.

To the captain's astonishment, he found himself within
half musket shot of the bulk of the hostile party. A regu
lar bivouac had been formed round a spring in the centre
of the clearing, and bodies of trees had been thrown to
gether, so as to form a species of work which was rudely,
but effectually abbatied by the branches. In a word, one
of those strong, rough forest encampments had been made,
which are so difficult to carry without artillery, more espe
cially if well defended. By being placed in the centre of

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 121

the clearing, an assault could not be made without exposing
the assailants, and the spring always assured to the gar
rison the great requisite, water.

There was a method and order in this arrangement that
surprised both our old soldiers. That Indians had resorted
to this exprdient, neither believed; nor would the careless,
untaught and inexperienced whites of the Mohawk be apt to
adopt it, without a suggestion from some person acquainted
with the usages of frontier warfare. Such persons were not
difficult to find, it is true; and it was a proof that those
claiming to be in authority, rightfully or not, were present.

There was something unlocked for, also, in the manner
in which the party of strangers were lounging about, at a
moment like that, seemingly doing nothing, or preparing
for no service. Joyce, who was a man of method, and was
accustomed to telling off troops, counted no less than forty-
nine of these idlers, most of whom were lounging near the
log entrenchment, though a few were sauntering about the
clearing, conversing with the wood-choppers, or making
their observations listlessly, and seemingly without any
precise object in view.

" This is the most extr'ornary sight, for a military expe
dition, I have ever seen, your honour," whispered Joyce,
aAer the two had stood examining the position for quite a
minute in silence. " A tolerable good log breast-work, I
will allow, sir, and men enough to make it good against a
sharp assault ; but nothing like a guard, and not so much
as a single sentinel. This is an affront to the art. Captain
Wiiloughby ; and it is such an affront to us, that 1 feel cer
tain we might carry the post by surprise, if all felt the insult
as I do myself."

" This is no time for rash acts or excited feelings, Joyce.
Though, were my gallant boy with us, I do think we might
make a push at these fellows, with very reasonable chances
of success."

"Yes, your honour, and without him, too. A close fire,
three cheers, and a vigorous charge would drive every one
of the rascals into the woods !"

" Where they would rally, become the assailants in their
turn, surround us, and either compel us to surrender, or
starve us out. At all events, nothing of the sort must be

VOL. H. — 11

, __

122 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

undertaken until we have carried out the plan for the rescue
of Major Willoughby. My hopes of success are greatly
increased since I find the enemy has his principal post up
here, where he must be a long half-mile from the mill, even
in a straight line. You have counted the enemy ?'

" There are just forty-nine of them in sight, and I should
think some eight or ten more sleeping about under the logs,
as I occasionally discover a new one raising his head. —
Look, sir, does your honour see that manoeuvre ?"

"Do I see what, serjeant? — There is no visible change
that I discover."

" Only an Indian chopping wood, Captain Willoughby,
which is some such miracle as a white man painting."

The reader will have understood that all the hostile party
that was lounging about this clearing were in Indian guise,
with faces and hands of the well-known reddish colour that
marks the American aborigines. The two soldiers could
discover many evidences that there was deception in these
appearances, though they thought it quite probable that
real red men were mingled with the pale-faces. But, so little
did the invaders respect the necessity of appearances in
their present position, that one of these seeming savages had
actually mounted a log, taken the axe from the hands of
its owner, and begun to chop, with a vigour and skill that
soon threw off chips in a way that no man can success
fully imitate but the expert axe-man of the American
interior.

" Pretty well that, sir, for a red-skin," said Joyce, smiling.
" If there isn't white blood, ay, and Yankee blood in that
chap's arm, I '11 give him some of my own to help colour it.
Step this way, your honour — only a foot or two — there,
sir; by looking through the opening just above the spot
where that very make-believe Injin is scattering his chips
as if they were so many kernels of corn that he was tossing
to the chickens, you will get a sight of the Hut."

The fact was so. By altering his own position a little on
the rock, Captain Willoughby got a full view of the entire
buildings of the Knoll. It is true, he could not see the lawn
without the works, nor quite all of the stockade, but the
whole of the western wing, or an entire side-view of the
dwellings, was obtained. Everything seemed as tranquil

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 123

and secure, in and around them, as if they vegetated in \\
sabbath in the wilderness. There was .sunn-thing imposing
e\« n. in the solemn silence of their air, and the captain now
saw that if he had been struck, and rendered uneasy by the
nu.Ntery that accompanied the inaction and quiet of his in
vaders, tlic-v, in their turns, might experience some such
sensations as they gazed on the repose of the Hut, and the
apparent security of its garrison. But for Joel's desertion,
indeed, and the information he had carried with him, tin -re
cuuld be little doubt that the stranger must have felt the in
fluence of such doubts to a very material extent. Alas ! as
things were, it was not probable they could be long im
posed on, by any seeming calm.

Captain WiUoughby felt a reluctance to tear himself away
from the spectacle of that dwelling which contained so many
that were dear to him. Even Joyce gazed at the house
with pleasure, for it had been his quarters, now, so many
years, and he had iookcd forward to the time when he
should breathe his last in it. Connected with his old com
mander by a tie that was inseparable, so far as human
wishes could control human events, it was impossible that
the serjeant could go from the place where they had left so
many precious beings almost in the keeping of Providence,
at a moment like that, altogether without emotion. While
each was thus occupied in mind, there was a perfect still
ness. The men of the party had been so far drilled, as to
speak in low voices, and nothing they said was audible on
the rock. The axes alone broke the silence of the woods,
and to ears so accustomed to their blows, they offered no
intrusion. In the midst of this eloquent calm, the bushes
of the rock rustled, as it might be with the passage of a
squirrel, or a serpent. Of the last the country had but few,
and they of the most innocent kind, while the former
abounded. Captain W7illoughby turned, expecting to see
one of these little restless beings, when his gaze eixvumti -r. -d
a swarthy face, and two glowing eyes, almost within reach
cf his arm. That this was a real Indian was beyond dis
pute, and the crisis admitting of no delay, the old officer
drew a dirk, and had already raised his arm to strike, when
Joyce arrested the blow.

124 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" This is Nick, your honour ;" said the serjeant, inqui
ringly — " is he friend, or foe?"

" What says he himself?" answered the captain, lowering
his hand in doubt. " Let him speak to his own character."

Nick now advanced and stood calmly and fearlessly at
he side of the two white men. Still there was ferocity in
his look, and an indecision in his movements. He cer
tainly might betray the adventurers at any instant, and they
felt all the insecurity of their situation. But accident had
brought Nick directly in front of the opening through which
was obtained the view of the Hut. In turning from one to
the other of the two soldiers, his quick eye took in this
glimpse of the buildings, and it became riveted there as by
the charm of fascination. Gradually the ferocity left his
countenance, which grew human and soft.

" Squaw in wigwam" — said the Tuscarora, throwing for
ward a hand with its fore-finger pointing towards the house.
" Ole squaw — young squaw. Good. *Wyandotte sick, she
cure him. Blood in Injin body ; thick blood — nebber forget
good — nebber forget bad."

CHAPTER X.

" Every stride — every stamp,
Every footfall is bolder ;
'T is a skeleton's tramp,
With a skull on its shoulder !
But ho, how he steps
With a high-tossing head,
That clay-covered bone,
. Going down to the dead !"

COXK.

NICK'S countenance was a fair index to his mind ; ncr
were his words intended to deceive. Never did Wyan-
dotte forget the good, or evil, that was done him. After
looking intently, a short time, at the Hut, he turned and
abruptly demanded of his companions, —

" Why come here ? Like to see enemy between you
and wigwam ?"

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 125

As all -Nick said i .! in a guarded tone, as if he

fully entered into the necessity of remaining concealed from
tln'M- who were in such a dangerous vicinity, it served to in
spire confidence, inducing the two soldiers to believe him
disposed to serve them.

•• Am 1 to trust in you as a friend?" demanded the cap
tain, looking the Indian steadily in the eye.

" Why won't trust? Nick no hero — gone away — Nick
nebbcr come au'in — \Vyandotle hero — who no trust \Vyun-
dotte? Ycngeese always trust great chief."

" 1 shall take you at your word, Wyandotle, and tell you
r\< Ty thing, hoping to make an ally of you. But, first ex
plain to me, why you left the Hut, last night — friends do
not desert friends."

" Why leave wigwam? — Because wanted to. Wyandotte
come when he want ; go when he want. Nick go too. —
Went to see son — come back ; tell story ; eh?"

" Yes, it has happened much as you say, and I am will
ing to think it all occurred with the best motives. Can you
tell me anything of Joel, and the others who have left me?"

"W)>y tell? — Cap'in look; he see. Some chop — some
plough — some weed — some dig ditch. All like ole time.
Bury hatchet — tired of war-path — why cap'in ask ?"

" 1 see all you tell me. You know, then, that those fel
lows have made friends with the hostile party?"

" No need know — see. Look — Injin chop, pale-face look
on! Call that war?"

" I do see that which satisfies me the men in paint yon
der are not all red men.''

" No— cap'in right — tell him so at wigwam. But dat
Mi -hawk — dog — rascal — Nick's enemy !"

This was said with a gleam of fierceness shooting across
the swarthy face, and a menacing gesture of the hand, in
the direction of a real savage who was standing indolently
leaning against a tree, at a distance so small as to allow
those on the rock to distinguish his features. The vacant
expression of this man's countenance plainly denoted that
he was totally unconscious of the vicinity of danger. It
expressed the listless vacancy of an Indian in a state of
perfect rest — his stomach full, his body at ease, his mind
peaceful.

11*

126 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" I thought Nick was not here," ihe captain qaietly ob
served, smiling on the Tuscarora a little ironically.

" Cap'in right — Nick no here. Well for dog 'tis so. Too
mean for Wyandotte to touch. What cap'in come for'/
Eh ! Better tell chief — get council widout lightin' fire."

" As I see no use in concealing my plan from you, Wy.
andotte," — Nick seemed pleased whenever this name was
pronounced by others — " I shall tell it you, freely. Still,
you have more to relate to me. Why are you here? — And
how came you to discover us?"

" Follow trail — know cap'in foot — know serjeant foot —
know Mike foot — see so many foot, follow him. Leave so
many" holding up three fingers " in bushes — so many"
holding up two fingers " come here. Foot tell which come
here — Wyandotte chief — he follow chief."

" When did you first strike, or see our trail, Tuscarora ?"

" Up here — down yonder — over dere." Captain Wil-
loughby understood this to mean, that the Indian had crossed'
the trail, or seen it in several places. " Plenty trail ; plenty
foot to tell all about it. Wyandotte see foot of friend — •
why he don't follow, eh ?"

" i hope this is all so, old warrior, and that you will prove
yourself a friend indeed. We are out in the hope of libe
rating my son, and we came here to see what our enemies
are about."

The Tuscarora's eyes were like two inquisitors, as he
listened ; but he seemed satisfied that the truth was told him.
Assuming an air of interest, he inquired if the captain knew
where the major was confined. A few words explained
everything, and the parties soon understood each other.

" Cap'in right," observed Nick. " Son in cupboard still;
but plenty warrior near, to keep eye on him."

" You know' his position, Wyanaotte, and can aid us
materially, if you will. What say you, chief; will you
take service, once more, under your old commander?"

" Who he sarve — King George — Congress — eh?"

" Neither. I am neutral, Tuscarora, in the present quar
rel. I only defend myself, and the rights which the laws
assure to me, let whichever party govern, that may."

" Dat bad. Nebber neutral in hot war. Get rob from
bot' side. Alway be one or t' oder, cap'in."

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 127

" You may be right, Nicholas, but a conscientious man
may think neither wholly right, nor wholly wrong. I wish
ni.-vcr to lift the hatchet, unless my quarrel be just."

"Injin no understand dat. Throw hatchet at enemy —
what matter what he say — good t'ing, bad t'ing. He enemy
— dat enough. Take scalp from enemy — don't touch
frirnd."

" That may do for your mode of warfare, Tuscarora, but
it will hardly do for mine. I must feel that I have right of
my side, before I am willing to tnke life."

" Cap'in always talk so, eh ? When he soldier, and gene
ral say shoot ten, forty, t'ousand Frenchmen, den he say ;
1 stop, general — no hurry — let cap'in t'ink.' Bye-'m-by
he '11 go and take scalp ; eh !"

It exceeded our old soldier's self-command not to permit
the blood to rush into his face, at this home-thrust ; for he
felt the cunning of the Indian had involved him in a seeming
contradiction.

" That was when I was in the army, Wyandotte," he
answered, notwithstanding his confusion, " when my first,
and highest duty, was to obey the orders of my superiors.
Then I acted as a soldier ; now, I hope to act as a man."

" Well, Indian chief alway in army. Always high duty,
and obey superior — obey Manitou, and take scalp from
enemy. War-path alway open, when enemy at t'other
end."

" This is no place to discuss such questions, chief; nor
have we the time. Do you go with us ?"

Nick nodded an assent, and signed for the other to
quit the rocks. The captain hesitated a moment, during
which he stood intently studying the scene in the clearing.

" What say you, Tuscarora ; the serjcant has proposed
assaulting that breast-work ?"

" Xo good, cap'in. You fire, halloo, rush on — well, kill
four, six, two — rest run away. Injin down at mill hear
rifle ; follow smoke — where major, den ? Get major, first —
fink about enemy afterwards.

As Nick said "this, he repeated the gesture to descend ;
and he was obeyed in siiencc. The captain now led the
way back to his party ; and soon rejoined it. All were glad
to sen Nick, for he was known to have a sure rifle; to bo

128 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

fearless as the turkey-cock ; and to possess a sagacity in
the woods, that frequently amounted to a species of intuition.

" Who lead, cap'in or Injin?" asked the Tuscarora, in
his sententious manner.

" Och, Nick, ye 're a cr'ature !" muttered Mike. " Divil
bur-r-rn me, Jamie, but I t'inks the fallie would crass the
very three-tops, rather than miss the majjor's habitation."

" Not a syllable must be uttered," said the captain, raising
a hand in remonstrance. " I will lead, and Wyandotte will
march by my side, and give me his council, in whispers.
Joyce will bring up the rear. Blodget, you will keep a sharp
look-out to the left, while Jamie will do the same to the
right. As we approach the mills, stragglers may be met in
the woods, and our march must be conducted with the
greatest caution. Now follow, and be silent."

The captain and Nick led, and the whole party followed,
observing the silence which had been enjoined on them.
The usual manner of marching on a war-path, in the woods,
was for the men to follow each other singly ; an order that
has obtained the name of ' Indian file,' the object being to
diminish the trail, and conceal the force of the expedition,
by each man treading in his leader's footsteps. On the
present occasion, however, the captain induced Nick to
walk at his side, feeling an uneasiness on the subject of the
Tuscarora's fidelity that he could not entirely conquer. The
pretext given was very different, as the reader will suppose.
By seeing the print of a moccasin in company with that of
a boot, any straggler that crossed the trail might be led to
suppose it had been left by the passage of a party from the
clearing or the mill. Nick quietly assented to this reason
ing, and fell in by the side of the captain without remon
strance.

Vigilant eyes were kept on all sides of the line of march,
though it was hoped and believed that the adventurers had
struck upon a route too far west to be exposed to interrup
tion. A quarter of a mile nearer to the flats might have
brought them within the range of stragglers ; but, following
the summit of the ridge, there was a certain security in the
indolence which would be apt to prevent mere idlers from
sauntering up an ascent. At all events, no interruption
occurred, the party reaching in safety the rocks that were

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 129

a continuation of ftbe ran^e \\hirh funned the precipice at
the falls — the sign that they had gone liir enough to the
soutli. At this period, tin- precipice was nearly lost in the
rising of tin.' lower land, hut its margin \vas sullicicntly dis
tinct to form a good mask.

Detceading to the plateau beneath, the captain and Nick
now inclined to the ea^, the intention being to come in upon
the mills from the rear. As the buildings lay in the ravine,
this could only be done by making a rapid descent imme
diately in their vicinity; a formation of the ground that
rendered the march, until within pistol-shot of its termina
tion, reasonably secure. Nick also assured his companions
that he had several times traversed this very plateau, and
that he had met no signs of footsteps on it ; from which lie
inferred that the invaders had not taken the trouble to
a-i-end the rugged dills that bounded the western side of
the glen.

The approach to the summit of the clifF was made with
caution, though the left flank of the adventurers was well
protected by the abrupt descent they had already made
from the terrace above. This left little more than the ri^ht
flank and the front to be watched, the jailing away of The
land forming, also, a species of cover for the rear. It is
not surprising then, that the tergeof the raxine or glen
was attained, and no discovery was made. The spot being
favourable, the captain immediately led down a winding
path, that was densely fringed with bushes, towards the
level of the buildings.

The glen of the mills was very narrow ; so much so, as
barely to leave sites for the buildmgs themselves, and thr. •«•
or four cabins for the workmen. The mills were placed
in advance, as near as possible to the course of the \\ :
while the habitations of the workmen were perched on
shelves of the rocks, or such level bits of bottom-land as
ofli-n d. Owing to this last circumstance, the hoi;
Daniel the miller, or that in which it was snppo-ed the
major was still confined, stood by itself, and tort
the very foot of the path by which the adventurers were
:iding. All this was favourable, and had been taki-n
into the account as a material advantage, by Captain Wil-

130 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

loughby when he originally conceived the plan of the pre
sent sortie.

When the chimney of the cabin was visible over the
bushes, Captain Willoughby halted his party, and repeated
his instruction to Joyce, in a voice very little raised above
a whisper. The serjeant was ordered to remain in his pre
sent position, until he received a signal to advance. As for
the captain, himself, he intended to descend as near as
might be to the buttery of the cabin, and reconnoitre, be
fore he gave the final order. This buttery was in a lean-to,
as a small addition to the original building was called in the
parlance of the country ; and, the object being shade and
coolness, on account of the milk with which it was usually
well stored at this season of the year, it projected back to
the very cliff, where it was half hid in bushes and young
trees. It had but a single small window, that was barred
with wood to keep out cats, and such wild vermin as affected
milk, nor was it either lathed or plastered ; these two last
being luxuries not often known in the log tenements of the
frontier. Still it was of solid logs, chinked in with mortar,
and made a very effectual prison, with the door properly
guarded ; the captive being deprived of edged tools. All
this was also known to the father, when he set forth to effect
the liberation of his son, and, like the positions of the build
ings themselves, had been well weighed in his estimate of
the probabilities and chances.

As soon as his orders were given, Captain Willoughby
proceeded down the path, accompanied only by Nick. He
had announced his intention to send the Tuscarora ahead
to reconnoitre, then to force himself among the bushes
between the lean-to and the rocks, and there to open a com
munication with the major through the chinks of the logs.
After receiving Nick's intelligence, his plan was to be go
verned by circumstances, and to act accordingly.

" God bless you, Joyce," said the captain, squeezing the
Serjeant's hand as he was on the point of descending. " We
are on ticklish service, and require all our wits about us.
If anything happen to me, remember that my wife and
daughter will mainly depend on you for protection."

" I shall consider that as your honour's orders, sir, and
no more need be said to me, Captain Willoughby."

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 131

The captain smiled on his old follov, vr, and Joyce thought
that never had he seen the fine manly face of his superior
beam with a calmer, or sweeter expression, than it did as
he returned his own pressure of the hand. The two
adventurers were both careful, and their descent was
noiseless. The men above listened, in breathless silence,
but the stealthy approach of the cat upon the bird could not
have been more still, than that of these two experienced
warriors.

The place where Joyce was left with the men, might
have been fifty feet above the roof of the cabin, and almost
perpendicularly over the narrow vacancy that was known
to exibt between the rocks and the lean-to. Still the bushes
and trees were so thick as to prevent the smallest glimpse
at objects below, had the shape of the cliff allowed it, while
they even intercepted sounds. Joyce fancied, nevertheless,
that he heard the rustling bushes, as the captain forced his
way into the narrow space he was to occupy, and he au
gured well of the fact, since it proved that no opposition had
been encountered. Half an hour of forest silence followed,
that was only interrupted by the tumbling of the waters
over the natural dam. At the end of that weary period, a
shout was heard in front of the mills, and the party raised
their pieces, in a vague apprehension that some discovery
had been made that was about to bring on a crisis. No-
thing further occurred, however, to confirm this impression,
and an occasional burst of laughter, that evidently came
from white men, rather served to allay the apprehension.
Another half-hour passed, during which no interruption was
heard. By this time Joyce became uneasy, a state of things
having arrived for which no provision had been made in his
instructions. He was about to leave his command under
the charge of Jamie, and descend himself to reconnoitre,
when a footstep was heard coming up the path. Nothing
but the deep attention, and breathless stillness of the men
could have rendered the sound of a tread so nearly noise
less, audible ; but heard it was, at a moment when every
sense was wrought up to its greatest powers. Rifles were
lowered, in readiness to receive assailants, but each was
raised again, as Nick came slowly into view. The Tusca-
rora was calm in manner, as if no incident had occurred to

332 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

disconcert the arrangement, though his eyes glanced a/ound
him, like those of a man who searched for an absent person.

" Where cap'in? — Where major?" Nick asked, as soon
as his glance had taken in the faces of all present.

" We must ask that of you, Nick," returned Joyce. " We
have not seen the captain, nor had any orders from him,
since he left us."

This answer seemed to cause the Indian more surprise
than it was usual for him to betray, and he pondered a mo
ment in obvious uneasiness.

" Can't stay here, alway," he muttered. " Best go see.
Bye'm-by trouble come ; then, too late."

The serjeant was greatly averse to moving without or
ders. He had his instructions how to act in every probable
contingency, but none that covered the case of absolute in
action on the part of those below. Nevertheless, twice the
time necessary to bring things to issue had gone by, and
neither signal, shot, nor alarm had reached his ears.

"Do you know anything of the major, Nick?" the ser
jeant demanded, determined to examine the case thoroughly
ere he came to a decision.

'* Major dere — see him at door — plenty sentinel. All
good — where cap'in ?"

" Where did you leave him ? — You can give the last ac
count of him."

" Go in behind cupboard — under rock — plenty bushes —
all right — son dere."

" This must be looked to — perhaps his honour has fallen
into a fit — such things sometimes happen — and a man who
is fighting for his own child, doesn't feel, Jamie, all the same
as one who fights on a general principle, as it might be."

" Na — ye 're right, sairjeant J'yce, and ye '11 be doing the
kind and prudont act, to gang doon yersal', and investigate
the trainsaction with yer ain een."

This Joyce determined to do, directing Nick to accom
pany him, as a guide. The Indian seemed glad to comply,
and there was no delay in proceeding. It required but a
minute to reach the narrow passage between the cliff and
the lean-to. The bushes were carefully shoved aside, and
Joyce entered. He soon caught a glimpse of the hunting-
shirt, and then he was about to withdraw, believing that he

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 133

was in error, in anticipating orders. But a short Vx>k at }\ia
commander removed all scruples ; for he observed that he
was seated i.n a projection of the rocks, with his body bowed
forward, apparently leaning on the logs of tiie building.
Tliis Deemed to corroborate the thought about a fit, and the
Serjeant pres>ed eagerly forward to ascertain the truth.

Joyce touched his commander's arm, but no sign of con
sciousness came from the latter. He then raised his body
upright, placing the back in a reclining attitude against the
rocks, and started kick hiin^-lf wlu-n ho caught a glimpse
of the death-like hue of tin- face. At first, the notion of the
fit was strong with the serjeant ; but, in ehanifing his own
position, he caught a glimpse of a little pool of blood, which
at once announced that violence had been used.

Although the serjeant was a man of great steadiness of
B, and unchangeable method, he fairly trembled as he
ascertained the serious condition of his old and well-beloved
commander. Notwithstanding, lie was too much of a sol
dier to neglect anything that circumstances required. On
examination, he discovered a deep and fatal wound between
two of the ribs, which had evidently been inflicted with a
common knife.( The blow had pa.-sed into the heart, and
Captain Willoughby was, out of all question, dead! He
had breathed his last, within six feet of his own gallant son,
who, ignorant of all that passed, was little dreaming of the
proximity of one so dear to him, as well as of his dire
condition.

J«>yeo, was a man of powerful frame, and, at that moment,
he felt he was master of a giant's strength. First assuring
If of the fact that the wounded man had certainly
i to breathe, he brought the. arms over his own shoul
ders, raised the body on his back, and walked from the
place, with less attention to caution than on entering, but
with sufficient care to prevent exposure. Nick stood watch-
in Lr his movements with a wondering look, and as soon as
'.hi -re was room, he aided in supporting the cor;

In this manner the; two went up the path, bearing their
senseless burd.-n. A gesture directed lh<- party with Jamie
to precede the two who had been below, and the serjeant did
not pause even to breathe, until he had fairly reached the
summit of the cliff; then he halted in a place removed from tiie
VOL. II. — 12

134 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

danger of immediate discovery. The body was laid reve
rently on the ground, and Joyce renewed his examination
with greater ease and accuracy, until perfectly satisfied that
the captain must have ceased to breathe, nearly an hour.

This was a sad and fearful blow to the whole party. No
one, at such a moment, thought of inquiring into the manner
in which their excellent master had received his death-blow ;
but every thought was bent either on the extent of the
calamity, or on the means of getting back to the Hut.
Joyce was the soul of the party. His rugged face assumed
a stern, commanding expression; but every sign of weak
ness had disappeared. He gave his orders promptly, and
the men even started when he spoke, so bent on obtaining
obedience did he appear to be.

The rifles were converted into a bier, the body was placed
upon it, and the four men then raised the burthen, and began
to retrace their footsteps, in melancholy silence. Nick led
the way, pointing out the difficulties of the path, with a
sedulousness of attention, and a gentleness of manner, that
none present had ever before witnessed in the Tuscarora
He even appeared to have become woman, to use one of his
own peculiar expressions.

No one speaking, and all the men working with good
will, the retreat, notwithstanding the burthen with which it
was encumbered, was made with a rapidity greatly exceed
ing the advance. Nick led the way with an unerring eye,
even selecting better ground than that which the white men
had been able to find on their march. He had often tra
versed all the hills, in the character of a hunter, and to him
the avenues of the forest were as familiar as the streets of
his native town become to the burgher. He made no offer
to become one of the bearers ; this would have been opposed
to his habits ; but, in all else, the Indian manifested gentle
ness and solicitude. His apprehension seemed to be, and
so he expressed it, that the Mohawks might get the scalp of
the dead man ; a disgrace that he seemed as solicitous to
avoid as Joyce himself; the serjeant, however, keeping in
view the feelings of the survivors, rather than any notions
of military pride.

Notwithstanding the stern resolution that prevailed among
the men, that return march was long and weary. The dis«

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 135

tanre, of itself, exceeded two miles, and there were tho
inequalities and obstacles of a forest to oppose them. Per
severance and strength, h«>w- 'nne all difficulties;
and, at the end of two hours, the party approached the point
where it became mressary to enter the !>ed of the rivulet,
or expose their sad procession by marching in open view of
any who might be straggling in the rear of the Hut. A
s of desperate determination had influenced the men
in their re-turn march, rendering them reckless of discovery,
or its consequences; a circumstance that had greatly
favoured their object; the adventurous and bold frequently
encountering fewer difficulties, in tho affairs of war, than
the cautious and timid. But an embarrassment now pre
sented itself that was far more difficult to encounter than
anv which proceeded from personal risks. The loving
family of the deceased was to be met ; a wife and daughters
apprised of the fearful loss that, in the providence of God,
had suddenly alighted on their house.

«' Lower the body, men, and come to a halt," said Joyce,
using the manner of authority, though his voice trembled ;
" we must consult together, as to our next step."

There was a brief and decent pause, while the parly
placed the lifeless body on the grass, face uppermost, with
the limbs laid in order, and everything about it, disposed of
in a seemliness that betokened profound respect for the
senseless clay, even after the noble spirit had departed.
Mike alone could not resist his strong native propensity to
talk. The honest fellow raised a hand of his late master,
and, kissing it with strong affection, soliloquized as follows,
in a tone that was more rebuked by feeling, than any appre
hension of consequences.

"Little need had ye of a praist, and extreme unction," ho
said. "The likes of yerself always kapos a clane breast ;
and the knife that went into ycr heart found nothing that yo
need have been ashamed of! Sorrow come over me, but
v.-r IfU -reat a one to meself, as if I had tidings of the

iinkii: ; Ireland into tho salt say, itself; a thing that

niver run happen, and nivor will happen; no, not even at
the last day ; as all agree tho wor-r-ld is to be burned and
not drowned. And who Ml there be to tell this same to the-
Missus, and Miss Beuley, and phratty Miss Maud, and tho

136 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

babby, in the bargain ? Divil bur-r-n me, if 't will be
Michael O'Hearn, who has too much sorrow of his own, to
be running about, and d'aling it out to other people. Sar-
jeant, that will be yer own jewty, and I pities the man that
has to perform it."

" No man will see me shrink from a duty, O'Hearn,"
said Joyce, stiffly, while with the utmost difficulty he kept
the tears from breaking out of a fountain that had not
opened, in this way, for twenty years. " It may bear hard
on my feelings — 1 do not say it will not — but duty is duly,
and it must be done. Corporal Allen, you see the state of
things ; the commanding officer is among the casualties,
and nothing would be simpler than our course, were it not
for Madam Willoughby — God bless her, and have her in
His holy keeping — and the young ladies. It is proper to
deliberate a little about them. To you then, as an elderly
and experienced man, I first apply for an opinion."

" Sorrow 's an unwelcome guest, whether it comes ex
pected, or without any previous knowledge. The hairts o'
the widow and fairtherless must be stricken, and it 's little
that a' our consolations and expairiments will prevail ag'in
the feelin's o' natur'. Pheeloosophy and religion tall us that
the body 's no mair than a clod o' the valley when the
speerit has fled ; but the hairt is unapt to listen to wisdom
while the grief is fraish, and of the severity of an unlooked-
for sairtainty. / see little good, therefore, in doing mair
than just sending in a messenger to clear the way a little
for the arrival of truth, in the form o' death, itsaP."

" I have been thinking of this — will you take the office,
Jamie, as a man of years and discretion?"

" Na — na — ye '11 be doing far better by sending a younger
man. Age has weakened my memory, and 1 '11 be over
looking some o'-the saircumstances in a manner that will be
unseemly for the occasion. Here is Blodget, a youth of
ready wit, and limber tongue."

" I wouldn't do it, mason, to be the owner of ten such
properties as this !" exclaimed the young Rhode Islander,
actually recoiling a step, as if he retreated before a dreaded
foe.

" -Well, sairjeant, ye 've Michael here, who belangs to a
kirk that has so little seempathy with protestantism as to

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 137

lessen the pain o' the office. Death is a near ally to religion,
and Michael, hy taking a religious view o' the mnither, might
bring his hairt into such a condition of insensibility as wad
give him little to do but to tell what has happened, leaving
God, in his ain maircv, to temper the wind to the shorn
lamb."

'• You hear, O'Hcarn ?" said the serjeant, stiflly — " Every
body seems to expect that you will do this duty."

" Jcwty ! — D 'ye call it a jcwty for a man in my situation
to break the hearts of Missus, and Miss Beuly, and phratty
MUs Maud, and the babby ? for babbies has hearts as well
as the stoutest man as is going. Divil bur-r-n me, then, if
ye gets out of my mout' so much as a hint that the captain 's
dead and gone from us, for ever and ever, amen ! Ye may
send me in, for ye 're corporals, and serjeants, and the likes
of yces, and I '11 obey as a souldier, seein' that he would
have wished as much himself, had the breat' staid in his
body, which it has not, on account of its 1'aving his sowl on
'arth, and departing with his corporeal part for the mansions
of happiness, the Blessed Mary have mercy on him, whether
here or there — but the captain was not the man to wish a
faitYul follower to afllict his own wile; and so I'll have
not'in' to do with such a message, at all at all."

" Nick go" — said the Indian, calmly — " Used to carry
message — carry him for cap'in, once more."

" Well, Nick, you may do it certainly, if so disposed,"
answered Joyce, who would have accepted the services of a
Chinese rather than undertake the office in person. " You
will remember and speak to the ladies gently, and not break
the news too suddenly."

"Yes — squaw soft heart — Nick know — had moder — had
wife, once — had darter."

"Very well ; this will be an advantage, men, as Nick is
the only married man among us; and married men should
best understand dealing with females."

Joyce then held a private communication with the Tusca-
rora, that lasted some five or six minutes, when the last
leaped nimbly into the bed of the stream, and was soon con
cealed by the bushes of one of its reaches.
12*

138 THE HUTTED KNOLL

CHAPTER XI.

" Heart leaps to heart — the sacred flood

That warms us is the same ;
That good old man — his honest blood
Alike we fondly claim."

SPRAGUE.

ALTHOUGH Nick commenced his progress with so much
seeming zeal and activity, his speed abated, the moment he
found himself beyond the sight of those he had left in the
woods. Before he reached the foot of the cliff, his trot had
degenerated to a walk ; and when he actually found he was
at its base, he seated himself on a stone, apparently to reflect
on the course he ought to pursue.

The countenance of the Tuscarora expressed a variety ot
emotions while he thus remained stationary. At first, it
was fierce, savage, exulting ; then it became gentler, soft,
perhaps repentant. He drew his knife from its buckskin
sheath, and eyed the blade with a gaze expressive of uneasi
ness. Perceiving that a clot of blood had collected at the
junction with the handle, it was carefully removed by the
use of water. His look next passed over his whole person,
in order to ascertain if any more of these betrayers of his
fearful secret remained ; after which he seemed more at ease.

" Wyandotte's back don't ache now," he growled to him
self. " Ole sore heal up. Why Cap'in touch him ? T'ink
Injin no got feelin' 1 Good man, sometime ; bad man, some
time. Sometime, live ; sometime, die. Why tell Wyan-
dotte he flog ag'in, just as go to enemy's camp? No ; back
feel well, now — nebber smart, any more."

When this soliloquy was ended, Nick arose, cast a look;
up at the sun, to ascertain how much of the day still re
mained, glanced towards the Hut, as if examining the nature
of its defences, stretched himself like one who was weary,
and peeped out from behind the bushes, in order to see how
those who were afield, still occupied themselves. All this

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 139

done, with singular deliberation and steadiness, li(i
his light dress, and prepared to present himself before tho
will.- and daughters of the man, whom, three hours before,
IK* had remorselessly murdered. Nick had often meditated
this tn ach.'i-ous de« (1, during the thirty years which had
elapsed between his tirst flogging and the present period;
but circumstances had never placed its execution safely in
his power. The subsequent punishments had increased tho
desire, for a l<-w years; but time had so far worn off tho
craving for revenue, that it would never have bren actively
revived, perhaps, but for the unfortunate allusions of the
victim himself, to the subject. Captain Willoughby had
been an Knglish soldier, of the school of the last century.
lli was naturally a humane and a just man, but he believed
in the military axiom that "the most flogging regiments
were the best fighting regiments;" and perhaps he was not
in error, as regards the lower English character. It was a
fatal error, however, to make in relation to an American
savage ; one who had formerly exercised the functions, and
who had not lost all the feelings, of a chief. Unhappily, at
a moment when everything depended on the fidelity of tho
Tuscarora, the captain had bethought him of his old expe
dient for insuring prompt obedience, and, by way of a re
minder, he made an allusion to his former mode of punish
ment. As Nick would have expressed it, " the old sorea
smarted ;" the wavering purpose of thirty years was sud
denly and fiercely revived, and the knife passed into tho
heart of the victim, with a rapidity that left no time for ap
peals to the tribunal of God's mercy. In half a minute,
Captain WiUoughby had ceased to breathe.

Such bad boon the act of the man who now passed through
the opening of the palisade, and entered the former I:
tion of his victim. A profound stillness rei<_nu>d -n and
around tho Hut, and no one appeared to question the unex
pected intruder. Nick passed, with his noiseless >tep, round
to the gnte, which he found 'secured. It was necessary to
knock, and this be did in a way effectually to brinir a porter.

•• Who den- .'" demanded the elder Pliny, from within.

" Good friend— open gate. Come wid message from
cap'in."

The natural distaste to the Indians which existed among

140 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

the blacks of the Knoll, included the Tuscarora. This disgust
was mingled with a degree of dread ; and it was difficult
for beings so untutored and ignorant, at all times to draw
the proper distinctions between Indian and Indian. In their
wonder-loving imaginations, Oneidas, Tuscaroras, Mohawks,
Onondagas, arid Iroquois were all jumbled together in inex
tricable confusion, a red man being a red man, and a sa
vage a savage. It is not- surprising, therefore, that Pliny
the elder should hesitate about opening the gate, and ad
mitting one of the detested race, though a man so well
known to them all, in the peculiar situation of the family.
Luckily, Great Smash happened to be near, and her hus
band called her to the gate by one of the signals thai was
much practised between them.

" Who you t'ink out dere?" asked Pliny the elder of his
consort, with a very significant look.

"How you t'ink guess, ole Plin? — You 'spose nigger
wench like Albonny wise woman, dat she see t'rough a
gate, and know ebbery t'ing, and little more !"

" Well, dat Sassy Nick. What you say now ?"

" You sartain, ole Plin?" asked Mistress Smash, with a
face ominous of evil.

*' Sartain as ear. Talk wid him — he want to come in.
What you t'ink ?"

" Nebber open gate, ole Plin, till mistress tell you. You
stay here — dere ; lean ag'in gate wid all you might ; dere ;
now I go call Miss Maud. She all alone in librarim, and
will know what best. Mind you lean ag'in gate well, ole
Plin."

Pliny the elder nodded assent, placed his shoulders reso
lutely against the massive timbers, and stood propping a
defence that would have made a respectable resistance to a
battering-ram, 'like another Atlas, upholding a world. His
duty was short, however, his ' lady' soon returning with
Maud, who was hastening breathlessly to learn the news.

" Is it you, Nick ?" called out the sweet voice of our he
roine through the crevices of the timber.

The Tuscarora started, as he so unexpectedly heard
those familiar sounds ; for an instant, his look was dark ;
then the expression changed to pity and concern, and his

THE HUTTED KNOLL. Ill

reply was given \\ith less than usual of the abrupt, guttural
brevity that belonged to his habits.

" Tis Nick— Sassy Nick— Wyandotte, Flower of the
Woods," for so the Indian often termed Maud. — "Got
oewfl — cap'iii send him. Meet party and go along. No
body here; only Wyandotte. Nick see major, too — say
somet'ing to young squaw."

This decided the matter. The gate was unbarred, and
Nick in the court in half-a-minute. Great Smash stole a
glance without, and beckoned Pliny the elder to join her,
in order to see the extraordinary spectacle of Joel and his
associates toiling in the fields. When they drew in their
heads, Maud and her companion were already in the library.
The message from Robert Willoughby had induced our he-
roine to seek this room ; for, placing little confidence in the
delicacy of the messenger, she recoiled from listening to his
words in the presence of others.

But Nick was in no haste to speak. He took the chair
to which Maud motioned, and he sate looking at her, in a
way that soon excited her alarm.

'* Tell me, if your heart has any mercy in it, Wyandotte ;
has aught happened to Major Willoughby?"

" He well — laugh, talk, feel good. Mind nol'ing. He
prisoner ; don't touch he scalp."

" Why, then, do you wear so ominous a look — your face
is the very harbinger of evil."

" Bad news, if trut' must come. ' What you' name, young
squaw ?''

"Surely, surely, you must know that well, Nick! I am
Maud — your old" friend, Maud."

41 Pale-face hab two name — Tuscarora got t'ree. Some
time, Nick — sometime, Sassy Nick — sometime, Wyan
dotte."

"You know my name is Maud Willoughby," returned
our heroine, colouring to the temples with a certain secret
consciousness of her error, but preferring to keep up old
appearan

" Dat call you' fader's name, Meredit'; no Willoughby.''

" Merciful Providence ! and has this great secret been
known to you, too, Nick !"

*' He no secret — know all about him. Wyandotte dere.—

142 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

See Major Meredit' shot. He good chief — nebber flog — •
nebber strike Injin. Nick know fader, know moder — know
squaw, when pappoose."

" And why have you chosen this particular moment to
tell me all this? Has it any relation to your message- — to
Bob — to Major Willoughby, I mean ?" demanded Maud,
nearly gasping for breath.

*' No relation, tell you," said Nick, a little angrily.
" Why make relation, when no relation at all. Meredit' ;
no Willoughby. Ask moder ; ask major ; ask chaplain —
all tell trut' ! No need to be so feelin' ; no you fader, at
all."

"What can you — what do you mean, Nick? Why do
you look so wild — so fierce — so kind' — so sorrowful — so
angry 1 You must have bad news to tell me."

" Why bad to you — he no fader — only fader friend. You
can't help it — fader die when you pappoose — why you care,
now, for dis ?"

Maud now actually gasped for breath. A frightful glimpse
of the truth gleamed before her imagination, though it
was necessarily veiled in the mist of uncertainty. She
became pale as death, and pressed her hand upon her heart,
as if to still its beating. Then, by a desperate effort, she
became more calm, and obtained the power to speak.

" Oh ! is it so, Nick ! — can it be so !" she said ; " my
father has fallen in this dreadful business 1"

" Fader kill twenty year ago ; tell you dat, how often ?"
answered the Tuscarora, angrily ; for, in his anxiety to
lessen the shock to Maud, for whom this wayward savage
had a strange sentiment of affection, that had grown out of
her gentle kindnesses to himself, on a hundred occasions,
he fancied if she knew that Captain Willoughby was not
actually her father, her grief at his loss would be less.
" Why you call dis fader, when dat fader. Nick know
fader and moder. — Major no broder."

Notwithstanding the sensations that nearly pressed her
to the earth, the tell-tale blood rushed to Maud's cheeks,
again, at this allusion, and she bowed her face to her knees.
The action gave her time to rally her faculties ; and, catch
ing a glimpse of the vast importance to all for her maintain-

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 143

ing self-command, she was enabled to raise her face with
something like the fortitude the Indian hoped to •

"Trifle with me no lonjM-r, \Vyundotte, but let me know
the worst at once. Is my father dead? — By father, I mean
captain Willoughby ?"

"Mean wrong, den — no fader, tell you. Why yoang
quaw so much like Mohawk ?"

- Man — js captain Willoughby killed?"

Nick gazed intently into Maud's face for half a minute,
and then he nodded an assent. Notwithstanding all her
resolutions to be steady, our heroine nearly sauk under the
blow. For ten minutes she spoke not, but sat, her head bowed
to her knees, in a confusion of thought that threatened a
temporary loss of reason. Happily, a flood of tears relieved
her, and she became more calm. Then the necessity of
knowing more, in order that she might act intelligently, oc
curred to her mind, and she questioned Nick in a way to
elicit all it suited the savage to reveal.

Maud's first impulse was to go out to meet the body of
the captain, and to ascertain for herself that there was ac
tually no longer any hope. Nick's account had been so
laconic as to leave much obscurity, and the blow had been
so sudden she could hardly credit the truth in its full extent.
Still, there remained the dreadful tidings to be communicated
to those dear beings, who, while they feared so much, had
never anticipated a calamity like this. Even Mrs. Wil
loughby, sensitive as she was, and wrapped up in those she
loved so entirely, as she was habitually, had been so long
accustomed to see and know of her husband's exposing
himself with impunity, as to begin to feel, if not to think,
that he bore a charmed life. All this customary confid' in •<•
was to be overcome, and the truth was to be said. Tell the
fact to her mother, Maud felt that she could not then ;
scarcely under any circumstances would she have consented
to perform this melancholy office ; but, so long as a shadow
of doubt remained on the subject of her father's actual de-
cctso, it seemed cruel even to think of it. Her decision was
to send for Beulah, and it was done by means of one of
the negresses.

So long as we feel that there are others to be sustained
by our fortitude, even the feeblest possess a firmness to

144 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

which they might otherwise be strangers. Maud, contrary
to what her delicate but active frame and sweetness of dis«
position might seem to indicate, was a young woman capa
ble of the boldest exertions, short of taking human life. Her
frontier training had raised her above most of the ordinary
weaknesses of her sex ; and, so far as determination went,
few men were capable of higher resolution, when circum
stances called for its display. Her plan was now made up
to go forth and meet the body, and nothing short of a com
mand from her mother could have stopped her. In this
frame of mind was our heroine, when Beulah made her ap
pearance.

" Maud !" exclaimed the youthful matron, " what has
happened ! — why are you so pale ! — why send for me ?
Does Nick bring us any tidings from the mill V

"The worst possible, Beulah. My father — my dear,
dear father is hurt. They have borne him as far as the
edge of the woods, where they have halted, in order not to
take us by surprise. I am going to meet the — to meet the
men, and to bring father in. You must prepare mother for
the sad, sad tidings — yes, Beulah, for the worst, as every
thing depends on the wisdom and goodness of God !"

" Oh! Maud, this is dreadful !" exclaimed the sister, sink
ing into a chair — " What will become of mother — of little
Evert— of us all!"

" The providence of the Ruler of heaven and earth will
care for us. Kiss me, dear sister — how cold you are —
rouse yourself, Beulah, for mother's sake. Think how much
more she must feel than we possibly can, and then be reso
lute."

" Yes, Maud — very true — no woman can feel like a wife
— unless it be a mother — "

Here Beulah's words were stopped by her fainting.

" You see, Smash," said Maud, pointing to her sister
with a strange resolution, " she must have air, and a little
water — and she has salts about her, I know. Come, Nick ;
we have no more time to waste — you must be my guide."

The Tuscarora had been a silent observer of this scene,
and if it did not awaken remorse in his bosom, it roused
feelings that nad never before been its inmates. The sight
of two such beings suffering under a blow that his own

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 145

hand had struck, was novel to him, and lie knew not which
to encourage most, a sentiment allied to regret, or a fierce
resentment, that any should dare thus to reproach, though it
were only by yielding to the grid' natural to their situation.
But .Maud had obtained a command over him, that he knew
not how to resist, and he followed her from the room, k« <-.,.
in:; his eyes riveted the while on the pallid face of Bculali.
The last was recalled from her insensibility, however, in
the course of a few minutes, through the practised attentions
of the negresses.

Maud waited for nothing. Motioning impatiently for the
Tuscarora to lead the way, she glided after him with a ra
pidity that equalled his own loping movement. She made
no difficulties in passing the stockade, though Nick kept his
eyes on the labourers, and felt assured their exeunt was not
noticed. Once by the path that led along the rivulet, Maud
refused all precautions, but passed swiftly over it, partially
concealed by its bushes. Her dress was dark, and left little
liability to exposure. As for Nick, his forest attire, like the
hunting shirt of the whites, was expressly regulated by the
wish to go to and fro unseen.

In less than three minutes after the Indian and Maud had
passed the gate, they were drawing near to the melancholy
group t^at had halted in the forest. Our heroine was re
cognised as she approached, and when she came rushing up
to the spot, all made way, allowing her to fall upon her
knees by the side of the lifeless body, bathing the placid
face of the dead with her tears, and covering it with kisses.

" Is there no hope — oh ! Joyce," she cried, " can it bo
possible that my father is actually dead ?"

" I fear, Miss Maud, that his honour has made his last
march. He has received orders to go hence, and, like a
gallant soWier as he was, he has obeyed, without a mur
mur ;" answered the serjeant, endeavouring to appear firm
and soldier-like, himself. " We have lost a noble and hu
mane commander, and you a most excellent and tender
father."

"No fader," — growled Nick, at the Serjeant's elbow,
twitching his sleeve, at the same time, to attract attention.
" Serjeant know her fader. He by ; I by, when Iroquoia
shoot him."
VOL. II.— 13

146 THE HUTTED KNCLL.

" I do not understand you, Tuscarora, nor do I think you
altogether understand us ; the less you say, therefore, the
better for all parties. It is our duty, Miss Maud, to say
* God's will be done,' and the soldier who dies in the dis
charge of his duty is never to be pitied. I sincerely wish
that the Rev. Mr. Woods was here ; he would tell you all
this in a manner that would admit of no dispute; as for
myself, I am a plain man, Miss Maud, and my tongue can
not utter one-half that my heart feels at this instant."

" Ah ! Joyce, what a friend — what a parent has it pleased
God to call to himself!"

" Yes, Miss Maud, that may be said with great justice — •
if his honour has left us in obedience to general orders, it
is to meet promotion in a service that will never weary, and
never end."

" So kind ; so true ; so gentle ; so just ; so affectionate !"
said Maud, wringing her hands.

" And so brave, young lady. His honour, captain Wil-
loughoy, was n't one of them that is always talking, and
writing, and boasting about fighting ; but when anything
was to be done, the Colonel always knew whom to send on
the duty. The army could n't have lost a braver gentle
man, had he remained in it."

" Oh ! my father — my father," — cried Maud, in bitter
ness of sorrow, throwing herself on the body and embra
cing it, as had been her wont in childhood — " would that I
could have died for you !"

" Why you let go on so," grumbled Nick, again. " No
her fader — you know dat, serjeant."

Joyce was not in a state to answer. His own feelings
had been kept in subjection only by military pride, but they
now had become so nearly uncontrollable, that he found
himself obliged- to step a little aside in order to conceal his
weakness. As it was, large tears trickled down his rugged
face, like water flowing from the fissures of the riven oak
Jamie Allen's constitutional prudence, however, now became
active, admonishing the party of the necessity of their get
ting within the protection of the Hut.

" Death is at a' times awfu'," said the mason, " but it
must befall young and auld alike. And the affleection it
brings cometh fra" the heart, and is a submission to the la'

THE 11 UT TED KNOLL. 147

o' nature. Nevertheless \vc a' h;ic our duties, so lang gj
we remain in tin- ilr>h, and it is time to be thinking o' car-
ryin' the body into >ume plaru u1 sali-ty, while we hae a
prudent regard to our ain conditions also."

Maud had risen, and, hearing this appeal, she drew baek
m-ekly, a>sumed a manner of forced composure, and signed
to the men to proceed. On this intimation, the body \\a>
raised, and the melancholy procession resumed its niaivh.

F»r the purpose of concealment, Joyce led the way into
the bed of the stream, leaving Maud waiting their move
ments, a little deeper within the forest. As soon as he and
his fellow-bearers were in the water, Joyce turned and de
sired Nick to escort the young lady in, again, on dry land,
or by the path along which she had come out. This said,
the Serjeant and his companions proceeded. Maud stood
gazing on the sad spectacle like one entranced, until she
ie.lt a sleeve pulled, and perceived the Tuscarora at her side.

" Xo go to Hut," said Nick, earnestly ; " go wid Wyan
dotte."

" Not follow my dear father's remains — not go to my be
loved mother in her anguish. You know not what you ask,
Indian — move, and let me proceed." *

" Xo go home — no use — no good. Cap'in dead — what
do widout commander. Come wid Wyandotte — find major
— den do some good."

Maud fairly started in her surprise. There seemed some
thing so truly useful, so consoling, so dear in this proposal,
that it instantly caught her ear.

" Find the Major !" she answered. " Is that possible,
Nick? My poor father perished in making that attempt —
what hope can there be then for my success ?"

** Plenty hope — much as want — all, want. Come wid
Wyandotte — he great chief — show young squaw where to
find broder."

Here was a touch of Nick's consummate art. He knew
the female bosom so well that he avoided any allusion to hi?
knowledge of the real relation between Robert Willouuhhv
and Maud, though he had so recently urged her want of
natural affinity to the family, as a reason why she should
not grieve. By keeping the Major before her eyes as a
brother, the chances of his own success were greatly in-

148 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

creased. As for Maud, a tumult of feeling came over her
heart at this extraordinary proposal. To liberate Bob, to
lead him into the Hut, to offer his manly protection to her
mother, and"Beulah, and little Evert, at such an instant,
caught her imagination, and appealed to all her affections.

"Can you do this, Tuscarora" — she asked, earnestly,
pressing her hand on her heart as if to quiet its throbbings.
" Can you really lead me to Major Willoughby, so that I
may have some hope of liberating him?"

" Sartain — you go, he come. I go, he no come. Don't
love Nick — fink all Injin, one Injin — fink one Injin, all
Injin. You go, he come — he stay, find more knife, and die
like Cap'in. Young squaw Jollow Wyandotte, and see."

Maud needed no more. To save the life of Bob, her well-
beloved, he who had so long been beloved in secret, she
would have gone with one far less known and trusted than
the Tuscarora. She made an eager gesture for him to pro
ceed, arid they were soon on their way to the mill, threading
the mazes of the forest.

Nick was far from observing the precautions that had
been taken by the captain, in his unfortunate march out.
Acquainted with every inch of ground in the vicinity of the
Dam, and an eye-witness of the dispositions of the invaders,
he had no occasion for making the long detour already de
scribed, but* went to work in a much more direct manner.
Instead of circling the valley, and the clearing, to the west
ward, he turned short in the contrary direction, crossed the
rivulet on the fallen tree, and led the way along the eastern
margin of the flats. On this side of the valley he knew
there were no enemies, and the position of the huts and
barns enabled him to follow a path, that was just deep
enough in the forest to conceal his movements. By taking
this course, besides having the advantage of a clear and
beaten path, most of the way, the Tuscarora brought the
whole distance within a mile.

As for Maud, she asked no questions, solicited no pauses,
manifested no physical weakness. Actively as the Indian
moved among the trees, she kept close in his footsteps ; and
she had scarcely begun to reflect on the real nature of the
undertaking in which she was engaged, when the roar of the
rivulet, ana the formation of the land, told her they had

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 149

reached the edge of the glen below the mills. Here Nick
told her to remain stationary a moment, while he advanced
to a covered point of the rocks, to reconnoitre. This was
the place \\here tin- Indian had made his first observations
of the invaders of the valley, ascertaining their real charac
ter before he trusted his person among them. On the pre
sent occasion, his object was to see if all remained, in and
about the mills, as when he had last left the spot.

"Come" — said Nick, signing for Maud to follow him —
" we go — fools sleep, and eat, and talk. Major prisoner
now; half an hour, Major fi

This was enough for the ardent, devoted, generous- hears d
Maud. She descended the path before her as swiftly as her
guide could lead, and, in five more minutes, they reached the
bank of the stream, in the. glen, at a point where a curvature
hid the rivulet from those at the mill. Here an enormous
pine had been laid across the torrent ; and, flattened on its
up[)er surface, it made a secure bridge for those who were
sure of foot, and steady of eye. Nick glanced back at his
companion, as IK; stepped upon this bridge, to ascertain if
she were equal to crossing it, a single glance sufficing to tell
him apprehensions were unnecessary. Haifa minute placed
both, in safety, on the western bank.

.ood!" muttered the Indian; "young squaw make
wife lor warrior."

But Maud heard neither the compliment nor the expres
sion of countenance which accompanied it. She m< r- ly
made an impatient gesture to proceed. Nick gazed intently
at the excited girl ; and there was an instant when he seemed
to waver in his own purpose; but the gesture rejieaied,
caused him to turn, and lead the way up the glen.

The progress of Nick now, necessarily, became more
guarded and slower. He was soon obliged to quit the com
mon path, and to incline to the left, more against the side
of the cliff, for the purposes of concealment. From the time
he had struck the simple bridge, until he took this precau
tion, his course had lain alonir what might have been termed
the common highway, on which there was always the dan
ger of meeting some messenger, travelling to or from the
valley.

But Nick was at no loss for paths. There were plenty
13*

1 50 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

of them ; and the one he took soon brought him out into that
by which Captain Willoughby had descended to the lean-to.
When the spot was reached where Joyce had halted, Nick
paused ; and, first listening intently, to catch the sound of
noises, if any might happen to be in dangerous proximity, he
addressed his companion :

" Young squaw bold," he said, encouragingly ; " now want
heart of warrior."

" I can follow, Nick — having come so far, why distrust
me, now ?"

" 'Cause he here — down dere — woman love man ; man
love woman — dat right ; but, no show it, when scalp in
danger."

" Perhaps I do not understand you, Tuscarora — but, my
trust is in God ; he is a support that can uphold any weak
ness."

" Good ! — stay here — Nick come back, in minute."

Nick now descended to the passage between the rocks
and the lean-to, in order to make certain that the major still
remained in his prison, before he incurred any unnecessary
risk with Maud. Of this fact he was soon assured ; after
which he took the precaution to conceal the pool of blood,
by covering it with earth and stones. Making his other
observations with care, and placing the saw and chisel, with
the other tools, that had fallen from the captain's hand, when
he received his death-wound, in a position to be handy, he
ascended the path, and rejoined Maud. No word passed
between our heroine and her guide. The latter motioned
for her to follow ; then he led the way down to the cabin.
Soon, both had entered the narrow passage ; and Maud, in
obedience to a sign from her companion, seated herself on
the precise spot where her father had been found, and where
the knife had passed into his heart. To all this, however,
Nick manifested the utmost indifference. Everything like
ferocity had left his face ; to use his own figurative language,
his sores smarted no longer ; and the expression of his eye
was friendly and gentle. Still it showed no signs of com
punction.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 151

CHAPTER XII.

" Her pallid face display'd

Something1, mcthought, surpassing mortal beauty.
She presently turn'd round, and fix'd her large, wild eyes,
Brimming with tears, upon me, fetch'd a sigh,
As from a riven heart, and cried : u He 's dead !"

HlLLHOUSE.

Mvri) had been so earnest, and so much excited, that she
scarcely reflected on the singularity and novelty of her
situation, until she was seated, as described at the close of
the last chapter. Then, indeed, she began to think that she
had embarked in an undertaking of questionable prudence,
and to wonder in what manner she was to be useful. Still
her heart did not fail her, or her hopes altogether sink.
She saw that Nick was grave and occupied, like a man who
intended to effect his purpose at every hazard ; and that
purpose she firmly believed was the liberation of Robert
Willoughby.

As for Nick, the instant his companion was seated, and
he had got a position to his mind, he set about his business
with great assiduity. It has been said that the lean-to, liko
the cabin, was built of logs ; a fact that constituted tho
security of the prisoner. The logs of the lean-to, however,
were much smaller than those of the body of the house, and
both were of the common white pine of the country ; a wood •••
of durable qualities, used as it was here, but which yielded
easily to edged tools. Nick had a small saw, a large chisel,
and his knife. With the chisel, he cautiously commenced
opening a hole of communication with the interior, by
removing a little of the mortar that filled the interstices
between the logs. This occupied but a moment. When
effected, Nick applied an eye to the hole and took a look
within. He muttered the word " good," then withdrew his
own eye, and, by a sign, invited Maud to apply one of hers.
This our heroine did, and saw Robert Willoughby, reading
\vithin a few feet of her, with a calmness of air, that at onco

152 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

announced his utter ignorance of the dire event that had so
lately occurred, almost within reach of his arm.

" Squaw speak," whispered Nick ; " voice sweet as wren
— go to Major's ear like song of bird. — Squaw speak music
to young warrior."

Maud drew back, her heart beat violently, her breathing
became difficult, and the blood rushed to her temples. But
an earnest motion from Nick reminded her this was no time
for hesitation, and she applied her mouth to the hole.

"Robert — dear Robert," she said, in a loud whisper,
" we are here — have come to release you."

Maud's impatience could wait no longer ; but her eye
immediately succeeded her mouth. That she was heard
was evident from the circumstance that the book fell from
the Major's hand, in a way to show how completely he was
taken by surprise. " He knows even my whispers," thought
Maud, her heart beating still more violently, as she observed
the young soldier gazing around him, with a bewildered air,
like one who fancied he had heard the whisperings of some
ministering angel. By this time, Nick had removed a long
piece of the mortar ; and he too, was looking into the but
tery. By way of bringing matters to an understanding, the
Indian thrust the chisel through the opening, and, moving
it, he soon attracted Willoughby's attention. The latter
instantly advanced, and applied his own eye to the wide
crack, catching a view of the swarthy face of Nick.

Willoughby knew that the presence of this Indian, at such
a place, and under such circumstances, indicated the neces
sity of caution. He did not speak, therefore ; but, first
making a significant gesture towards the door of his narrow
prison, thus intimating the close proximity of sentinels, he
demanded the object of this visit, in a whisper.

" Come to set, major free," answered Nick.

" Can I trust you, Tuscarora ? Sometimes you seem a
friend, sometimes an enemy. I know that you appear to be
on good terms with my captors."

" Dat good — Injin know how to look two way — warrior
TTiust, if great warrior."

" I wish I had some proof, Nick, that you are dealing
with me in good faith."

" Call dat proof, den !" growled the savage, seizing Maud's

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 153

little hand, and passing it through the opcniiur, before tho
startled girl was fully aware of what he nx-aut to d<>.

Willoughby knew the hand at a glance. I !<• would have
recognised it, in that forest solitude, by its symmetry and
whiteness, its delicacy anil its fullness; hut one of tin- taper
lingers wore a ring that, of late, Maud had much used ;
heiiiLT a diamond hoop that she had learned was a favourite
ornament of her real mother's. It is not surprising, there
fore, that he seized the pledge that was thus strangely held
litrih, and had covered it with kisses, before Maud had pre
sence of mind sufficient, or strength to reclaim it. This
she would not do, however, at such a moment, without re
turning all the proofs of ardent affection that were lavished
on her own hand, by giving a gentle pressure to the one in
which it was clasped.

" This is so strange, Maud ! — so every way extraordinary,
that I know not what to think," the young man whispered,
soon as he could get a glimpse of the face of the sweet girl.
44 Why are you here, beloved, and in such company?"

"You will trust me, Bob — Nick comes as your friend.
Aid him all you can, now, and be silent. When free, then
will be the time to learn all."

A sign of assent succeeded, and the major withdrew a
step, in order to ascertain the course Nick meant to pursue.
By this time, the Indian was at work with his knife, and ho
soon passed the chisel in to the prisoner, who seized it, and
commenced rutting into the logs, at a point opposite to that
where the Tuscarora was whittling away the wood. The
object was to introduce the saw, and it required some labour
to effect such a purpose. By dint of application, hov.
and by cutting the log above as well as that below, sufficient
space was obtained in the course of a few minutes. Xi'-k
then passed the saw in, through the opening, it exceeding
his skill to use such a tool with readiness.

By this time, Willoughby was en<ia£red with the ear
ness and zeal of the captive who catches a glimpse of lib
erty. Notwithstanding, he proceeded intelligently and with
caution. The blanket given him by his captors, as a pallet,
was hanging from a nail, and he took the precaution to
draw this nail, and to place it above the spot selected for the
cut, that he might suspend the blanket so as to conceal

lf>4 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

what he was at, in the event of a visit from without. When
all was ready, and the blanket was properly placed, he
began to make long heavy strokes with the tool, in a way
to deaden the sound. This was a delicate operation ; but
the work's being done behind the blanket, had some effect in
lessening the noise. As the work proceeded, Willoughby's
hopes increased ; and he was soon delighted to hear from
Nick, that it was time to insert the saw in another place.
Success is apt to induce carelessness ; and, as the task pro
ceeded, Willoughby's arm worked with greater rapidity,
until a noise at the door gave the startling information that
he was about to be visited. There was just time to finish
the last cut, and to let the blanket fall, before the door
opened. The saw-dust and chips had all been carefully re
moved, as the work proceeded, and of these none were left
to betray the secret.

There might have been a quarter of a minute between
the moment when Willoughby seated himself, with his book
in his hand, and that in which the door opened. Short as
was this interval, it sufficed for Nick to remove the piece of
log last cut, and to take away the handle of the saw ; the
latter change permitting the blanket to hang so close against
the logs as completely to conceal the hole. The sentinel
who appeared was an Indian in externals, 'but a dull, white
countryman in fact and character.

" I thought I heard the sound of a saw, major," he said,
listlessly ; " yet everything looks quiet, and in its place
here !" '

" Where should I get such a tool ?" Willoughby coolly
replied ; " and what is there here to saw ?"

" 'Twas as nat'ral, too, as the carpenter himself could
make it, in sound !"

" Possibly the mill has been set in motion by some of
your idlers, and you have heard the large saw, which, at a
distance, may sound like a smaller one near by."

The man looked incredulously at his prisoner for a mo
ment ; then he drew to the door, with the air of one who
was determined to assure himself of the truth, calling aloud,
as he did so, to one of his companions to join him. Wil
loughby knew that no time was to be lost. In half-a-minute,
he had passed the hole, dropped the blanket before it, had

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 155

circled the slender waist of Maud with one arm, and was
shoving aside the bushes with the other, as lie followed
Nick from the straitened passage between the lean-to and
the rock. The major seemed more bent on hearing Maud
iVnin the spot, than on saving himself. Her feet scarce
touched tin: ground, as he ascended to the place where
had halted. Here Nick stood an instant, with i\
finger raised in intense listening. His practised ears caught
the sound of voices in the lean-to, then scarce fifty feet dis
tant. Men called to each other by name, and then a voice
directly beneath them, proclaimed that a head was already
thrust through the hole.

" Here is your saw, and here is its workmanship!" ex
claimed this voice.

" And here is blood, too," said another. " See ! the
ground has been a pool beneath those stones."

.Maud shuddered, as if the soul were leaving its earthly
tenement, and Willoughby signed impatiently for Nick to
proceed. But the savage, for a brief instant, seemed be
wildered. The danger below, however, increased, and
evidently drew so near, that he turned and glided up the
ascent. Presently, the fugitives reached the descending
path, that diverged from the larger one they were on, and
by which Nick and Maud had so recently come diagonally
up this cliif. Nick leaped into it, and then the intervening
bushes concealed their persons from any who might continue
on the upward course. There was an open space, however,
a little lower down ; and the quick-witted savage came to
a stand under a close cover, believing flight to be useless
should their pursuers actually follow on their heels.

The halt had not b"en made half-a-dozen seconds, when
the voices of the party ascending in chase, were heard
above the fugitives. Willoughby felt an impulse to dash
down the path, bearing Maud in his arms, but Nick inter
posed his own body to so rash a movement. There was
not time for a discussion, and the sounds of voices, speaking
English loo distinctly to pass for any but those of men of
English birth, or English origin, wen- hoard disputing about
the course to be taken, at the point of junction between the
two paths.

" Go by the lower, "called out one, from the rear ; " he

156 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

will run down the stream, and make for the settlements on
the Hudson. Once before, he has done this, as I know from
Strides himself."

" D — n Strides !" answered another, more in front. " He
is a sniveling scoundrel, who loves liberty, as a hog loves
corn ; for the sake of good living. I say go the upper,
which will carry him on the heights, and bring him out
near his father's garrison."

" Here are marks of feet on the upper," observed a third,
" though they seem to be coming down, instead of going up
the hill."

" It is the trail of the fellows who have helped him to
escape. Push up the hill, and we shall have them all in ten
minutes. Push up — push z/p."

This decided the matter. It appeared to Willoughby that
at least a dozen men ran up the path, above his head, eager
in the pursuit, and anticipating success. Nick waited no
longer, but glided down the cliff, and was soon in the broad
path which led along the margin of the stream, and was the
ordinary thoroughfare in going to or from the Knoll. Here
the fugitives, as on the advance, were exposed to the dan
ger of accidental meetings ; but, fortunately, no one was
met, or seen, and the bridge was passed in safety. Turn
ing short to the north, Nick plunged into the woods again,
following the cow-path by which he had so recently de
scended to the glen. No pause was made even here. Wil
loughby had an arm round the waist of Maud, and bore her
forward, with a rapidity to which her own strength was
altogether unequal. In less than ten minutes from the time
the prisoner had escaped, the fugitives reached the level of
the rock of the water-fall, or that of the plain of the Dam.
As it was reasonably certain that none of the invaders had
passed to that side of the valley, haste was no longer neces
sary, and Maud was permitted to pause for breath.

The halt was short, however, our heroine, herself, now
feeling as if the major could not be secure until he was
fairly within the palisades. In vain did Willoughby try to
pacify her fears, and to assure her of his comparative safety ;
Maud's nerves were excited, and then she had the dreadful
tidings, which still remained to be told, pressing upon her

TUB HUTTED KNOLL. 157

spirits, and quickening all her natural impulses and senti
ments.

Nick soon made the signal to proceed, and then the three
began to circle the flats, as mentioned in the advance of
.Maud and her companion. When they reached a favoura
ble sput, the Indian onee more directed a halt, intimating
his own intention to move to the margin of the woods, in
order to reconnoitre. Both his companions heard this an
nouncement with satisfaction, for Willoughby was ea^er to
say to .Maud directly that which he had so plainly indicated
by means of the box, and to extort from her a confession
that she was not offended; while; Maud herself felt the ne
cessity of letting the major know the melancholy circum
stance that yet remained to be told. With these widely
distinct feelings uppermost, our two lovers saw Nick quit
them, each impatient, restless and uneasy.

\\ liloughby had found a scat for Maud, on a log, and he
now placed himself at her side, and took her hand, pressing
it silently to his heart.

" Nick has then been a true man, dearest Maud," he said,
"notwithstanding all my doubts ami misgivings of him."

" Yes ; he gave me to understand you would hardly trust
him, and that was the reason I was induced to accompany
him. We both thought, Bob, you would confide in me/"

"•Bless you — bless you — beloved Maud — but have you
Mike — has he had any interview with you — in a word,
did he deliver you my box?"

Maud's feelings had been so much excited, that the decla
ration of Willoughby's love, precious as it was to her heart
failed to produce the outward si^ns that are usually exhi
bited by the delicate and sensitive of her se\, when they
listen to the insinuating lani/ua^e for the first time. 1 1< r
thoughts were engrossed with her dreadful secret, and with
tin- best and least shocking means of breaking it to tho
major. The tint on her cheek, ihereti,: . dtvpmed,

as this question \\as put to her, while her eye, full of earnest
, .-till remained riveted on the face of her com
panion.

tk I have seen Mike, dear Bob," she answered, with n
steadiness that had its rise in her singleness of purpose —
" and he has shown me — given me, the box."

VOL. II. — 11

158 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" But have you understood me, Maud ? — You will remem*
ber that box contained the great secret of rny life !"

** This I well remember — yes, the box contains the great
secret of your life."

" But — you cannot have understood me, Maud — else
would you not look so unconcerned — so vacantly — I am
not understood, and am miserable !"

" No — no-^-no"— interrupted Maud, hurriedly — " I un
derstand all you have wished to say, and you have no cause

to be " Maud's voice became choked, for she recollected

the force of the blow that she had in reserve.

"This is so strange! — altogether so unlike your usual
manner, Maud, that there must be some mistake. The box
contained nothing but your own hair, dearest."

" Yes ; nothing else. It was my hair ; I knew it the in
stant I saw it."

" And did it tell you no secret? — Why was Beulah's hair
not with it? Why did I cherish your hair, Maud, and your's
alone? You have not understood me !"

** I have, dear, dear Bob ! — You love me — you wished to
say we are not brother and sister, in truth ; that we have an
affection that is far stronger — one that will bind us together
for life. Do not look so wretched, Bob ; I understand every
thing you wish to say."

"This is so very extraordinary I — So unlike yourself,
Maud, I know not what to make of it ! I sent you that box,
beloved one, to say that you had my whole heart ; that I
thought of you day and night; that you were the great ob
ject of my existence, and that, while misery would be cer
tain without you, felicity would be just as certain with you ;
in a word, that I love you, Maud, and can never love an
other."

" Yes, so I understood you, Bob." — Maud, spite of her
concentration of feeling on the dreadful secret, could not
refrain from blushing — " It was too plain to be mistaken."

" And how was my declaration received ? Tell me at
once, dear girl, with your usual truth of character, and
frankness — can you, will you love me in return?"

This was a home question, and, on another occasion, it
might have produced a scene of embarrassment and hesita
tion. But Maud was delighted with the idea that it was in

THE II U T T i; I) KNOLL. 1 59

her power to break the violence of the blow she was about
to indict, by setting Robert \Villouirhby 's mind at ease on
this great point.

"1 do love you, Bob," she said, with fervent affection
beaming in every lineament of her angel face — '•'•have loved
you, lor \e;ir> — how could it be Otherwise I I have scarce
M rn any other to love; and how see you, and refrain '.'"

" Blessed, blessed, Maud — but this is so strange — I fear
you do not understand me — I am not speaking of such atli-c-
tion as Beulah bears me, as brother and sister feel ; I speak
of the love that my mother bore my father — of the love of
man and wife''

A groan from Maud stopped the vehement young man,
who received his companion in his arms, as she bowed her
head on his bosom, half fainting.

" Is this resentment, dearest, or is it consent?" he asked,
bewildered by all that passed.

" Oh ! Bob— Father-father— father !"

" My father ! — what of him, Maud ? Why has the allu
sion to him brought you to this state?"

"They have killed him, dearest, dearest Bob; and you
must now be father, husband, brother, son, all in one. We
have no one left but you !"

A long pause succeeded. The shock was terrible to
Robert Willoughby, but he bore up against it, like a man.
Maud's incoherent and unnatural manner was now explained,
and while unutterable tenderness of manner — a tenderness
that was increased by what had just passed — was exhibited
by « ach to the other, no more was said of love. A common
urief appeared to bind their hearts closer together, but it was
unnecessary to dwell on their mutual affection in words.
Robert Willoui>hby's sorrow mingled with that of Maud,
and, as he folded her to his heart, their faces were literally
bathed in each other's tears.

It was some time before Willoughby could ask, or Maud
give, an explanation. Then the latter briefly recounted all
she knew, her companion listening with the closest attention.
Th«- son thought the occurrence as extraordinary as it was
afflicting, but there was not leisure for inquiry.

It was, perhaps, fortunate for our lovers that Nick's em-
ploymcnt kept him away. For nearly ten minutes longer

160 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

did he continue absent ; then he returned, slowly, thought*
ful, and possibly a little disturbed. At the sound of hia
footstep, Willoughby released Maud from his arms, and both
assumed an air of as much tranquillity as the state of their
feelings would allow.

" Better march" — said Nick, in his sententious manner—
" Mohawk very mad."

" Do you see the signs of this ?" asked the major, scarce
knowing what he said.

" Alway make Injin mad ; lose scalp. Prisoner run
away, carry scalp with him."

"I rather think, Nick, you do my captors injustice; so
far from desiring anything so cruel, they treated me well
enough, considering the circumstances, and that we are in
the woods."

" Yes ; spare scalp, 'cause t'ink rope ready. Nebber
trust Mohawk — all bad Injin."

To own the truth, one of the great failings of the sav
ages of the American forests, was to think of the neighbour
ing tribes, as the Englishman is known to think of the
Frenchman, and vice versa ; as the German thinks of both,
and all think of the Yankee. In a word, his own tribe con
tains everything that is excellent, with the Pawnee, the
Osage and Pottawattomie, as Paris contains all that is per
fect in the eyes of the bourgeois, London in those of the
cockney, and this virtuous republic in those of its own en
lightened citizens ; while the hostile communities are re
morselessly given up to the tender solicitude of those beings
which lead nations, as well as individuals, into the sinks of
perdition. Thus Nick, liberalized as his mind had compa
ratively become by intercourse with the whites, still retained
enough of the impressions of childhood, to put the worst
construction on the acts of all his competitors, and the best
on his own. In this spirit, then, he warned his companions
against placing any reliance on the mercy of the Mohawks.

Major Willoughby, however, had now sufficient induce
ments to move, without reference to the hostile intentions of
his late captors. That his escape would excite a malignant
desire for vengeance, he could easily believe ; but his mother,
his revered heart-broken mother, and the patient, afflicted
Beulah, were constantly before him, and gladly did he press

THE HUTTED KNOLL. lb'1

on, Maud loaning on his arm, the instant Nick led the way.
To say that the lovely, confiding beinir who clung to his
side, as the vine inclines to the tn > . Wftfl :'«>r<jotten, or that
he did not retain a vivid recollection of all that she had so
ingenuously avowrd in his favour, would not be rigidly ac
curate, though the hopes thus created shone in the distance,
under the present causes of grief, as the sun's rays illumine
UK- depths of the heavens, while his immediate lace is en
tirely hidden by an eclipse.

• I )id you sec any signs of a movement against the house,
Nick /'' demanded the major, when the three had bn-n
busily making their way, for several minutes, round the
margin of the forest.

The Tuscarora turned, nodded his head, and glanced at
Maud.

M Speak frankly, Wyandotte— "

" Good !" interrupted the Indian with emphasis, assuming
a dignity of manner the major had never before witnessed.
" Wyandotte come — Nick gone away altogeder. Nebber
see Sassy Nick, ag'in, at Dam."

" I am glad to hear this, Tuscarora. and as Maud says,
you may speak plainly."

" T'ink, den, best be ready. Mohawk feel worse dan if
he lose ten, free, six scalp. Injin know Injin feelin'. Pale
face can't stop red-skin, when blood get up." ••

"Press on, then, Wyandotte, for the sake of God — let
me, at least, die in defence of my beloved mother !"

•• Moder; good ! — Doctor Tuscarora, when death grin in
face ! She my moder, too !"

This was said energetically, and in a manner to assure
his listeners that they had a firm ally in this warlike savage.
Little did either dream, at that instant, that this same way
ward being — the creature of passion, and the fierce aven
ger of all his own fancied griefs, was the cause of the dread
ful blow that had so recently fallen on them.

The sun still wanted an hour of setting, when Nick
brought his companions to the fallen tree, by which they
were again to cross the rivulet. Here lie paused, pointing
to the rools of the Hut, which were then just visible through
the trec^s ; as much as to say that his duty, as a guide, was
done.

14*

162 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" Thank you, Wyandotte," said Willoughby ; " if it be
the will of God to carry us safely through the crisis, you
shall be well rewarded for this service."

" Wyandotte chief — want no dollar. Been Injin runner
— now be Injin warrior. Major follow — squaw follow —
Mohawk in hurry."

This was enough. Nick passed out of the forest on a
swift walk — but for the female, it would have been his cus
tomary, loping trot — followed by Willoughby ; his arm,
again, circling the waist of Maud, whom he bore along,
scarce permitting her light form to touch the earth. At this
instant, four or five conches sounded, in the direction of the
mills, and along the western margin of the meadows. Blast
seemed to echo blast ; then the infernal yell, known as the
war-whoop, was heard all along the opposite face of the
buildings. Judging from the sounds, the meadows were
alive with assailants, pressing on for the palisades.

At this appalling moment, Joyce appeared on the ridge
of the roof, shouting, in a voice that might have been heard
to the farthest point in the valley —

" Stand to your arms, my men," he cried; "here the
scoundrels come; hold your fire until they attempt to cross
the stockade."

To own the truth, there was a little bravado in this, min
gled with the stern courage that habit and nature had both
contributed to lend the serjeant. The veteran knew the
feebleness of his garrison, and fancied that warlike cries,
from himself, might counterbalance the yells that were now
rising from all the fields in front of the house.

As for Nick and the major, they pressed forward, too
earnest ind excited, to speak. The former measured the
distance by his ear ; and thought there was still time to gain
a cover, if no moment was lost. To reach the foot of the
cliff, took just a minute ; to ascend to the hole in the palisade,
half as much time; and to pass it, a quarter. Maud was
dragged ahead, as much as she ran ; and the period when
the three were passing swiftly round to the gate, was preg
nant with imminent risk. They were seen, and fifty rifles
were discharged, as it might be, at a command. The bul
lets pattered against the logs of the Hut, and against the

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 163

palisades, but no one was hurt. The voice of Willoughby
o|MMif«l the gnti-, and the next instant the three were within
the shelter of the court.

CHAPTER XIII.

" They have not perish'd — no !
Kind words, remembered voices, once so sweet,
Smiles, radiant long ago,
And features, the great soul's apparent seat;

"All shall come back, each tie
Of pure affection shall be knit again ;
Alone shall evil die,
And sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign.

tt And then shall I behold
Hun, liy wh<»*e kind paternal side I sprung,
And her, who still and cold,
Fills the next grave — the beautiful and young."

BRYANT'S PAS-I.

THE scene that followed passed like a hurricane sweep
ing over the valley. Joyce had remained on the ridge of
the roof, animating his little garrison, and endeavouring to
intimidate his enemies, to the last moment. The volley of
bullets had reached the palisades and the buildings, and ho
was >till unharmed. But the sound of the major's voice
below, and the cry that Miss Maud and Nick were at the
gate, produced a sudden change in all his dispositions for
the defence. The scrjeant ran below himself, to report and
receive his orders from the new commander, while all the
negroes, females as well as males, rushed down into the
court, to meet their young master and mistress.

It is not easy to describe the minute that succeeded, after
Wifloughby and Maud were surrounded by the blacks.
The delight of these untutored brings was in proportion lo
their recent sorrow. The death of their master, and the cap
tivity of Ma<!«-r Iiob and Mi^ Maud, had appeared to them
like a general downfall of the family of Willoughby; but
here was a revival of its hopes, that came as unexpectedly
as its previous calamities. Amid the clamour, cries, tears,

L

164 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

lamentations, and bursts of uncontrollable delight, Joyce
could scarce find a moment in which to discharge his duty.

" I see how it is, serjeant," exclaimed Willoughby ; " the
assault is now making, and you desire orders."

" There is not an instant to lose, Major Willoughby ; the
enemy are at the palisades already, and there is no one at
his station but Jamie and young Blodget."

" To your posts, men — to your posts, everybody. The
house shall be made good at all hazards. For God's
sake, Joyce, give me arms. I feel that my father's wrongs
are to be revenged."

" Robert — dear, dear Robert," said Maud, throwing her
arms on his shoulders, " this is no moment for such bitter
feelings. Defend us, as I know you will, but defend us like
a Christian."

One kiss was all that the time allowed, and Maud rushed
into the house to seek her mother and Beulah, feeling as
if the tidings of Bob's return might prove some little alle
viation to the dreadful blow under which they must be suf
fering.

As for Willoughby, he had no time for pious efforts at
consolation. The Hut was to be made good against a host
of enemies; and the cracking of rifles from the staging and
the fields, announced that the conflict had begun in earnest.
Joyce handed him a rifle, and together they ascended
rapidly to the roofs. Here they found Jamie Allen and
Blodget, loading and firing as fast as they could, and were
soon joined by all the negroes. Seven men were now col
lected on the staging ; and placing three in front, and two
on each wing, the major's dispositions were made ; moving,
himself, incessantly, to whatever point circumstances called.
Mike, who knew little of the use of fire-arms, was stationed
at the gete, as porter and warder.

It was so unusual a thing for savages to attack by day
light, unless they could resort to surprise, that the assail
ants were themselves a little confused. The assault was
made, under a sudden feeling of resentment at the escape
of the prisoner, and contrary to the wishes of the principal
white men in the party, though the latter were dragged in
the train of events, and had to seem to countenance that of
which they really disapproved. These sudden out-break-

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 165

ings were sufficiently common in Indian warfare, and often
produced memorable disasters. < hi the present occasion,
howev< T, tin- most that could occur was a repulse, and to
this tin1 leaders, demagogues who owed their authority to
the excesses and necessities of the times, were lain to sub
mit, should it happen.

The onset had been fierce and too unguarded. The mo
ment the volley was fired at the major, the assailants broke
rover, and the fields were alive with men. This was tho
instant when the defence was left to Allen and Blodget, else
might the exposure have cost the enemy dear. As it was,
the last brought down one of the boldest of the Indians,
while the mason fired with i*ood will, though with less visi
ble efKx-t. The yell that followed this demonstration of the
apparent force of the garrison, was a wild mixture of anger
and exultation, and the rush at the palisades was general
and swift. As Willoughby posted his reinforcement, the
stockade was alive with men, some ascending, some firing
from its summit, some aiding others to climb, and one fall-
inn within the enclosure, a second victim to Blodget's un
erring aim.

The volley that now came from the roofs staggered the
sa\ages, most of whom fell outward, and sought cover in
their usual quick and dexterous manner. Three or four,
however, thought it safer to fall within the palisades, seek
ing safety immediately under the sides of the buildings. The
view of these men, who were perfectly safe from the fire of
the garrison so long as the latter made no sortie, gave an
idea to those without, and produced, what had hitherto been
wanting, something like order <-«id concert in the attack.
The firing now became desultory and watchful on both
sides, the attacking party keeping themselves covered by the
trees and fences as well as they could, while the garrison
only peered above the ridge of the roof, as occasions re
quired.

The instant the outbreak occurred, all the rl-ilcrant de
pendants of captain Willoughby, who had deserted, aban
doned their various occupations in the woods and fields,
collecting in and around the cabins, in the midst of their
wives and children. Joel, alone, was not to be seen. He
had sought his friends among the leaders of the party, be-

166 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

hind a slack of hay, at a respectful distance from the
house, and to which there was a safe approach by means
of the rivulet and its fringe of bushes. The little council
that was held at this spot took place just as the half-dozen
assailants who had fallen within the palisades were seen
clustering along under the walls of the buildings.

" Natur' gives you a hint how to conduct," observed Joel,
pointing out this circumstance to his principal companions,
as they all lay peering over the upper portions of the stack,
at the Hut. " You see them men under the eaves — they 're
a plaguy sight safer up there, than we be down here ; and,
if 'tvvere'n't for the look of the thing, I wish I was with 'em.
That house will never be taken without a desperate sight
of fightin' ; for the captain is an old warrior, and seerns to
like to snufT gunpowder" — the reader will understand none
knew of the veteran's death but those in the house — " and
won't be for givin' up while he has a charge left. If I had
twenty men — no, thirty would be better, where these fellows
be, I think the place could be carried in a few minutes, and
then liberty would get its rights, and your monarchy-men
would be put down as they all desarve."

" What do then 1" demanded the leading Mohawk, in his
abrupt guttural English. " No shoot — can't kill log."

" No, chief, that 's reasonable, an' ongainsayable, too ;
but only one-half the inner gate is hung, and I 've contrived
matters so, on purpose, that the props of the half that is n't
on the hinges can be undone, all the same as onlatching the
door. If I only had the right man here, now, the business
should be done, and that speedily."

" Go 'self," answered the Mohawk, not without an ex
pression of distrust and contempt.

" Every man to his callin', chief. My trade is peace, and
politics, and liberty, while your's is war. Howsever, I can
put you, and them that likes fightin', on the trail, and then
we '11 see how matters can be done. Mortality ! How them
desperate devils on the roof do keep blazin' away ! It
would n't surprise me if they shot somebody, or get hurt
themselvos !"

Such were the deliberations of Joel Strides on a battle.
The Indian leaders, however, gave some of their ordinary
signals, to bring their * young men' more under command,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 107

and, sending messengers with orders in different directions,
they left the haystack, compelling Joel to m.vcmipany them.

The results of th'>e m .vrmrnts \\. apparent.

The most daring of the Mohawks made their \\.iy into the
rivulet, north of the buildings, and were soon at the fool of
the cliff. A little reconnoitring told them that the hole
which Joel had pointed out, had not been closed since the
entrance of Willoughby and his companions. Led by their
chief, the warriors stole up the ascent, and began to crawl
through the same inlet which had served as an outlet to so
many deserters, the previous night, accompanied by their
wives and children.

The Indians in front had been ordered to occupy the
attention of the garrison, while this movement was in the
course of execution. At a signal, they raised a yell, un
masked them, fired one volley, and seemed to make another
rush at the works. This was the instant chosen for the
passage of the hole, and the seven leading savages effected
their entrance within the stockade, with safety. The eighth
man was shot by Blodget, in the hole itself. The body was
instantly withdrawn by the legs, and all in the rear fell
back under the cover of the cliff.

Willoughby now understood the character of the assault.
Stationing Joyce, with a party to command the hole, he
went himself into the library, accompanied by Jamie and
Blodget, using a necessary degree of caution. Fortunately
the windows worn raised, and a sudden volley routed all the
Indians who had taken shelter beneath the rocks. These
men, however, fled no further than the rivulet, where they
rallied under cover of the bushes, keeping up a dropping
fire at the windows. For several minutes, the combat was
confined to this spot ; Willoughby, by often shifting from
window to window along the rear of the house, getting seve
ral volleys that told, at the men under the cover.

As yet, all the loss had been on the side of the assailants,
though several of the garrison, including both Willoughby
and Joyce, had divers exceedingly narrow escapes. Quite
n dozen of the assailants had suffered, though only four
were killed outright. By this time, the assault had lasted
an hour, and the shades of evening were closing around the
place. Daniel, the miller, had been sent by Joel to spring

1(58 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

the mine they had prepared together, but, making the mis
take usual with the uninitiated, he had hung back, to lei
others pass the hole first, and was consequently carried
down in the crowd, within the cover of the bushes of the
rivulet.

Willoughby had a short consultation with Joyce, and then
he set seriously about the preparations necessary for a night
defence. By a little management, and some personal risk,
the bullet-proof shutters of the north wing of the Hut were
all closed, rendering the rear of the buildings virtually im
pregnable. When this was done, and the gates of the area
were surely shut, the place was like a ship in a gale, under
short canvass and hove-to. The enemy within the palisades
were powerless,' to all appearance, the walls of stone pre
venting anything like an application of fire. Of the last,
however, there was a little danger on the roof, the Indians
frequently using arrows for this purpose, and water was
placed on the staging rn readiness to be used on occasion.

All these preparations occupied some time, and it was
quite dark ere they were completed. Then Willoughby had
a moment for reflection ; the firing having entirely ceased,
and nothing further remaining to do.

" We are safe for the present, Joyce," the major observed,
as he and the serjeant stood together on the staging, after
having consulted on the present aspect of things ; " and I
have a solemn duty, yet, to perform — my dear mother —
and the body of my father — "

" Yes, sir ; I would not speak of either, so long as it was
your honour's pleasure to remain silent on the subject. Ma
dam Willoughby is sorely cut down, as you may imagine,
sir ; and, as for my gallant old commander, he died in his
harness, as a soldier should."

"Where haVe you taken the body? — has my mother
seen it ?"

" Lord bless you, sir, Madam Willoughby had his honour
carried into her own room, and there she and Miss Beulah" —
so all of the Hut still called the wife of Evert Beekman — -
" she and Miss Beulah, kneel, and pray, and weep, as you
know, sir, ladies will, whenever anything severe comes over
their feelings — God bless them both, we all say, and think,
ay, and pray, too, in our turns, sir."

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 169

" Very well, Joyce. Even a soldier may drop a tear over
the dead body of his own father. God only knows what
tliis night will brills forth, and I may never have a moment
as favourable as this, for discharging so solemn a duty."

" Yes, your honour" — Joyce fancied that the major had
succeeded to this appellation by the decease of the captain —
. your honour, the commandments, that the Rev. Mr.
Woods used to read to us of a Sunday, tell us all about
that ; and it is quite as much the duty of a Christian to mind
the commandments, I do suppose, as it is for a soldier to
obey orders. God bless you, sir, and carry you safe through
tii'1 all'air. I had a touch of it with Miss Aland, myself, and
know what it is. It 's bad enough to lose an old commander
in so sudden a way like, without having to feel what has
happened in company with so sweet ladies, as these wo
have in the house. As for these blackguards down inside
the works, let them give you no uneasiness ; it will be light
work for us to keep them busy, compared to what your ho
nour has to do."

It would seem by the saddened manner in which Wil-
loughby moved away, that he was of the same way of
thinking as the serjeant, on this melancholy subject. The
moment, however, was favourable for the object, and delay
could not be afforded. Then Willoughby's disposition was
to console his mother, even while he wept with her over the
dead body of him they had lost.

Notwithstanding the wild uproar that had so prevailed,
not only without, but within the place, the portion of the
house that was occupied by the widowed matron and her
daughters, was silent as the grave. All the domestics were
either on the staging, or at the loops, leaving the kitchens
and offices deserted. The major first entered a little
chamber, that opened between a store-room, and the aj-nr1-
ment usually occupied by his mother; this being the ordi
nary means of approach to her room. Here he paused,
and listened quite a minute, in the hope of catching some
sound from within that might prepare him for the ncene he
was to meet. Not a whisper, a moan, or a sob could
be heard; and he ventured to lap lightly at the door.
This was unheeded ; waiting another minute, as much
in dread as in respect, he raised the latch with some such

VOL. II. — 15

170 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

awe, as one would enter into a tomb of some beloved one.
A single lamp let him into the secrets of this solemn place.

In the centre of the room, lay stretched on a large table,
the manly form of the author of his being. The face was
uppermost, and the limbs had been laid, in decent order, as
is usual with the dead that have been cared for. No change
had been made in the dress, however, the captain lying in
the hunting-shirt in which he had sallied forth ; the crimson
tint which disfigured one breast, having been sedulously
concealed by the attention of Great Smash. The passage
from life to eternity had been so sudden, as to leave the
usual benignant expression on the countenance of the corpse;
the paleness which had succeeded the fresh ruddy tint of
nature, alone denoting that the sleep was not a sweet repose,
but that of death.

The body of his father was the first object that met the
gaze of the major. He advanced, leaned forward, kissed
the marble-like forehead, with reverence, and groaned in
the effort to suppress an unmanly outbreaking of sorrow.
Then he turned to seek the other well-beloved faces. There
sat Beulah, in a corner of the room, as if to seek shelter for
her infant, folding that infant to her heart, keeping her look
riveted, in anguish, on the inanimate form that she had
ever loved beyond a daughter's love. Even the presence
of her brother scarce drew a glance away from the sad
spectacle ; though, when it at length did, the youthful ma
tron bowed her face down to that of her child, and wept
convulsively. She was nearest to the major, who moved
to her side, and kissed the back of her neck, with kind
affection. The meaning was understood ; and Beulah,
while unable to look up, extended a hand to meet the fra
ternal pressure it received.

Maud was near, kneeling at the side of the bed. Her
whole attitude denoted the abstraction of a mind absorbed in
worship and solicitation. Though Willoughby's heart
yearned to raise her in his arms ; to console her, and bid
her lean on himself, in future, for her earthly support, he
too much respected her present occupation, to break in upon
it with any irreverent zeal of his own. His eye turned from
this loved object, therefore, and hurriedly looked for his
mother.

TUB UUTTEl) KNOLL. 171

The form of Mrs. \Villoughl>y had escaped the first glance*
of JUT son, in consequence of the position in which she had
placed herself. Tin- stricken will: was in a corner of the
room, her person partly concealed by the drapery of a
window-curtain; though this was evidently more the elll-ct
of accident, than of design. \\ illoughby started, as he
caught the tirst glance of his beloved parent's face; and he
felt a chill pass over his whole frame. There she sat up.
right, motionless, tearless, without any of the alleviating
weaknesses of a less withering grief, her mild countenance
exposed to the light of the lamp, and her eyc.s riveted on the
of the dead. In this posture had she remained for
hours; no tender cares on the part of h'-r daughters ; no
attentions from her domestics ; no outbreaking of her own
sorrows, producing any change. Even the clamour of the
assault had passed by her like the idle wind.

" My mother — my poor — dear — heart-broken mother !"
burst from \Villoughl>y, at this sight, and he stepped quickly
forward, and knelt at her feet.

But Bob — the darling Bob — his mother's pride and joy,
was unheeded. The heart, which had so long beaten for
others only ; which never seemed to feel a wish, or a pulsa
tion, but in the service of the objects of its affection, wai
not sufficiently firm to withstand the blow that had I
on it so suddenly. Enough of life remained, however, to
support the frame for a while; and the will still exercised
its power over the mere animal functions. Her son shut
out the view of the body, and she motioned him aside with
an impatience of manner he had never before witnessed from
;me quarter. Inexpressibly shocked, the major took
her hands, by gentle compulsion, covering them with kisses,
and literally bathing them in tears.

«* Oh ! mother — dearest, dearest mother !" he cried, " icill
you not — do you not know me — Robert — Bob — your much-
indulged, grateful, affectionate son. If father is gone into
the immediate presence of the God he revered and served, I
am still left to be a support to your declining years.
Lean on me, mother, next to your Father in IIca\cn."

" Will he ever get up, Robert?" whispered th>- \viii
mother. " You speak too loud, and may rouse him before
his time. He promised me to bring you back ; and he ever

172 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

kept his promises. He had a long march, and is weary,
See, ho\v sweetly he sleeps !"

Robert Willoughby bowed his head to his mother's knees,
and groaned aloud. When he raised his face again, he saw
the arms of Maud elevated towards heaven, as if she would
pluck down that consolation for her mother, that her spirit
was so fervently asking of the Almighty. Then he gazed
into the face of his mother again ; hoping to catch a gleam
of some expression and recognition, that denoted more of
reason. It was in vain ; the usual placidity, the usual mild
affection were there ; but both were blended with the unna
tural halo of a mind excited to disease, if not to madness.
A slight exclamation, which sounded like alarm, came from
Beulah ; and turning towards his sister, Willoughby saw
that she was clasping Evert still closer to her bosom, with
her eyes now bent on the door. Looking in the direction
of the latter, he perceived that Nick had stealthily entered
the room.

The unexpected appearance of Wyandotte might well
alarm the youthful mother. He had applied his war-paint
since entering the Hut ; and this, though it indicated an in
tention to fight in defence of the house, left a picture of
startling aspect. There was nothing hostile intended by
this visit, however. Nick had come not only in amity, but
in a kind concern to see after the females of the family,
who had ever stood high in his friendship, notwithstanding
the tremendous blow he had struck against their happiness.
But he had been accustomed to see those close distinctions
drawn between individuals and colours ; and, the other pro
prieties admitted, would not have hesitated about consoling
the widow with the offer of his own hand. Major Wil
loughby, understanding, from the manner of the Indian,
the object of his visit, suffered him to pursue his own course,
in the hope it might rouse his mother to a better conscious
ness of objects around her.

Nick walked calmly up to the table, and gazed at the
face of his victim with a coldness that proved he felt no
compunction. Still he hesitated about touching the body,
actually raising his hand, as if with that intent, and then
withdrawing it, like one stung by conscience. Willoughby
noted the act ; and, for the first time, a shadowy suspicion

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 173

glanced on his mind. Maud had told him all she knew of
tin- ;. his lather's death, and old distrusts i

to revive, though so iaintly us to j>roduce no immediate
ilia.

:br the Indian, the hesitating gesture exceptcd, the
strictest scrutiny, or the keenest suspicion could have d
od no signs of Hi-ling. The senseless form before him was
not less moved than he appeared to he, so far as the human
eye could penetrate. Wyandottc was unmoved. He be
lieved that, in curing the sores on his own hack in this par
ticular manner, ho had done what became a Tu>earor;i
warrior and a chief. Let not the self-styled Christians of
civilized society ailect horror at this instance of s
justice, so long as they go the whole length of the law
of their several communities, in avenging their own fan
cied wrongs, using the dagger of calumny instead of the
scalping-knife, and rending and tearing their victims, by
the agency of gold and power, like so many beasts of
the field, in all the forms and modes that legal vindictive-
will cither justify or tolerate; often exceeding those
broad limits, indeed, and seeking impunity behind perjuries
and frauds.

.Nick's examination of the body was neither hurried nor
agitated. When it was over, he turned calmly to consider
the daughters of the deceased.

"Why you cry — why you 'fear'd," he said, approach
ing Beulah, and placing his swarthy hand on the head of
,-rping infant. — " Good squaw — good pappoose. Wy-
andotte take care 'em in woods. Bye'm-by go to pale-face
town, and sleep quiet."

This was rudely said, but it was well meant. Beulah so

\ • (1 it ; and .--he endeavoured to smile her gratitude in

the face of the very king from whom, more than from all

of earth, she would have turned in horror, could her mental

vision have reached the fearful secret that lay buried in his

i.osom. The Indian understood her look; and making

a gesture of encouragement, he moved to the side of :he

;;i whom his own hand h.-.d made a widow.

The appearance of Wyandotte produced no change in
the look or manner of the matron. The Indian took her
hand, and spoke.
15*

174 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" Squaw berry good," he said, with emphasis. " Why
look so sorry — cap'in gone to happy huntin'-ground of hia
people. All good dere — chief time come, must go."

The widow knew the voice, and by some secre-t associa
tion it recalled the scenes of the past, producing a mo
mentary revival of her faculties.

" Nick, you are my friend," she said, earnestly. " Go
speak to him, and see if you can wake him up."

The Indian fairly started, as he heard this strange pro
posal. The weakness lasted only for a moment, however,
and he became as stoical, in appearance at least, as before.
" No," he said ; " squaw quit cap'in, now. Warrior go
on last path, all alone — no want companion. — She look at
grave, now and den, and be happy."

" Happy !" echoed the widow, " what is that, Nick ? —
what is happy, my son? It seems a dream — I must have
known what it was ; but I forget it all now. Oh ! it was
cruel, cruel, cruel, to stab a husband, and a father — wasn't
it, Robert? — What say you, Nick — shall I give you more
medicine? — You'll die, Indian, unless you take it — mind
what a Christian woman tells you, and be obedient. — Here,
let me hold the cup — there ; now you '11 live !"

Nick recoiled an entire step, arid gazed at the still beau
tiful victim of his ruthless revenge, in a manner no one had
ever before noted in his mien. His mixed habits left him
in ignorance of no shade of the fearful picture before his
eyes, and he began better to comprehend the effects of the
blow he had so hastily struck — a blow meditated for years,
though given at length under a sudden and vehement im
pulse. The widowed mother, however, was past noting
these changes.

"No — no — no — Nick," she added, hurriedly, scarce
speaking above a whisper, " do not awake him ! God will
do that, when he summons his blessed ones to the foot
of his throne. Let us all lie down, and sleep with him.
Robert, do you lie there, at his side, my noble, noble boy;
Beulah, place little Evert and yourself at the other side ;
Maud, your place is by the head; I will sleep at his feet;
while Nick shall watch, and let us know when it will be

time to rise and pray "

The general and intense — almost spell-bound — attention

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 175

with which .ill in the room listened to these gentle but. touch-
tr.ilerinus of a mind so single and pure, was intcr-
rupk'd by yells so internal, and shrieks so wild and fearful,
that it seemed, in sooth, as if the last trump had sounded,
and men were passing forth from their graves to judgment.
Willoughby almost leaped out of the room, and Maud fol-
:. to shut and bolt the door, when her waist was encir
cled by the arm of Nick, and she found herself borne
forward towards the din.

CHAPTER XIV.

44 O, Time and Death ! with certain pace,
Though still unequal, hurrying on,
O'erturning, in your awful race,
The cot, the palace, and the throne 1"

SANDS.

MAUD had little leisure for reflection. The yells and
shrieks were followed by the cries of combatants, and iho
crack of the rifle. Nick hurried her along at a rate so rapid
that she had not breath to question or remonstrate, until she
found herself at the door of a small store-room, in which
her mother was accustomed to keep articles of domestic
economy that required but little space. Into this room Nick
thrust her, and then she heard the key turn on her egress.
For a single moment, Wyandotte stood hesitating whether
he should endeavour to get Mrs. Willoughby and her other
daughter into the same place of security ; then, judging of
the futility of the attempt, by the approach of the sounds
within, among which he heard the full, manly voice of Ro
bert Willoughby, railing on the garrison to be firm, he raised
an answering yell to those of the Mohawks, the war-whoop
of his tribe, and plunged into the fray with the desperation
of one who ran a muck, and with the delight of a demon.

In order to understand the cause of this sudden change,
it will 1)0 necessary to return a little, in the order of time.
\Vhil<- Willousjhby was with his mother and sisters, Mike
had charge of the gate. The rest of the garrison was either

r

176 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

at the loops, or was stationed on the roofs. As the darkness
increased, Joel mustered sufficient courage to crawl through
the hole, and actually reached the gate. Without him, it
was found impossible to spring his mine, and he had been
prevailed on to risk this much, on condition it should not
be asked of him to do such violence to his feelings as to
enter the court of a house in which he had seen so many
happy days.

The arrangement, by which this traitor intended to throw
a family upon the tender mercies of savages, was exceed
ingly simple. It will be remembered that only one leaf of
the inner gate was hung, the other being put in its place,
where it was sustained by a prop. This prop consisted of
a single piece of timber, of which one end rested on the
ground, and the other on the centre of the gate ; the last be
ing effectually prevented from slipping by pins of wood,
driven into the massive wood-work of the gate, e&ove its
end. The lower end of the prop rested against a fragment
of rock that nature had placed at this particular spot. As
the work had been set up in a hurry, it was found necessary
to place wedges between the lower end of the prop and the
rock, in order to force the leaf properly into its groove, with
out which it might have been canted to one side, and of
course easily overturned by the exercise of sufficient force
from without.

To all this arrangement, Joel had been a party, and he
knew, as a matter of course, its strong and its weak points.
Seizing a favourable moment, he had loosened the wedges,
leaving them in their places, however, but using the precau
tion to fasten a bit of small but strong cord to the most
material one of the three, which cord he buried in the dirt,
and led half round a stick driven into the earth, quite near
the wall, and thence through a hole made by one of the
hinges, to the outer side of the leaf. The whole had been
done with so much care as to escape the vigilance of casual
observers, and expressly that the overseer might assist his
friends in entering the place, after he himself had provided
for his own safety by flight. The circumstance that no one
trod on the side of the gateway where the unhung leaf stood,
prevented the half-buried cord from being disturbed by any
casual footstep.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 177

As soon as Joel reached tin- wall of the Hut, his first rare
was to ascertain if he were ^a:c from missiles from the

•d of this fact, he; stole round to the gate, ami had a
consultation with the- Mohan k chief, on the Md.jecl of spring
ing the mini'. The cord was found in its place; and, haul
ing on it gently, .''"I was soon certain that lie had rn
the wedge, and that force 'might speedily throw down the
unhung leaf. Still, he proceeded with caution. Applying
the point of a lever to the bottom of the leaf, he hove it hack
sufficiently to be sure it would pass inside of its li-llmv : ai.d
then he announced to the grave warrior, who had watched
the whole proceeding, that the time was come to lend his
aid.

There were a dozen reckless whiles, in the cluster of sa-
- collected at the gate ; and enough of these were placed
at handspikes to effect the intended dislodgement. The
plan was this : while poles were set against the upper por
tion of the leaf, to force it within the line of the suspended
part, handspikes and crowbars, of which a sufficiency had
been provided by Joel's forethought, were to be applied be
tween the hinire edge and the wall, to cast the whole over
to the other side.

Unluckily, Mike had been left at the gate as the sentinel.
A more unfortunate selection could not have been made ;
the true-hearted fellow having so much self-confidence, and
so little forethought, as to believe the gates impregnable.
lie had lighted a pipe, and was smoking as tranquilly as If
had ever done before, in his daily indulgences of this cha
racter, when the unhung leaf came tumbling in upon the
side where he sat ; nothing saving his head but the upper
edge's lodging (mains! the wall. At the same momrnf, a
11 Indians leaped through the opening, and sprang into
the court, raising the yells already described. Mike iM-
lowed, armed with his shillelah, for his musket was aban
doned in the surprise, and he he^an to lay about him with an
Kirn< stiK-ss that in nowise lessened the clamour. This was
the moment when Joyce, nobly sustained by Blodget and
Jamie Allen, poured a volley into the 4 nirt, from the roofs;
when the fray became general. To this point had the com
bat reached, when Willoughby rushed into the open air,
followed, a few instants later, by Nick.

178 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

The scene that succeeded is not easily described. It was
a melee in the dark, illuminated, at instants, by the flashes
of guns, and rendered horrible by shrieks, curses, groans
and whoops. Mike actually cleared the centre of the court,
where he was soon joined by Willoughby, when, together,
they made a rush at a door, and actually succeeded in gain
ing their own party on the roof. It was not in nature for
the young soldier to remain here, however, while his mother,
Beulah, and, so far as he knew, Maud, lay exposed to the
savages below. Amid a shower of bullets he collected his
whole force, and was on the point of charging into the court,
when the roll of a drum without, brought everything to a
stand. Young Blodget, who had displayed the ardour of a
hero, and the coolness of a veteran throughout the short
fray, sprang down the stairs unarmed, at this sound, passed
through the astonished crowd in the court, unnoticed, and
rushed to the outer gate. He had barely time to unbar it,
when a body of troops marched through, led by a tall, man
ly-looking chief, who was accompanied by one that the
young man instantly recognised, in spite of the darkness, for
Mr. \Voods, in his surplice. At the next moment, the stran
gers had entered, with military steadiness, into the court, to
the number of, at least, fifty, ranging themselves in order
across its area.

" In the name of Heaven, who are you ?" called out Wil
loughby, from a window. " Speak at once, or we fire."

" I am Colonel Beekman, at the head of a regular force,"
was the answer, " and if, as I suspect, you are Major Wil
loughby, you know you are safe. In the name of Con
gress, I command all good citizens to keep the peace, or
they will meet with punishment for their contumacy."

This announcement ended the war, Beekrnan and Wil«
loughby grasping each other's hands fervently, at the next
instant.

" Oh ! Beekman !" exclaimed the last, " at what a mo
ment has God sent you hither! Heaven be praised! not
withstanding all that has happened, you will find your wife
and child safe. Place sentinels at both gates ; for treachery
has been at work here, and I "shall ask for rigid justice."

" Softly — softly — my good fellow," answered • Beekman,
pressing his hand. " Your own position is a little delicate,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 179

and we must proceed with moderation. I learned, just in
time, that a party was coming hither, bent on mischief; aiul
obtaining UK.- mrrssary authority, I hastened to the nearest
garrison, obtained a company, and commenced my maivh
as soon as possible. Had we not met with Mr. Woods,
travelling lor the settlements in quest of succour, we might
have brrn too late As it was, God be praised ! — I think wo
have arrived in season."

Such were the facts. The Indians had repelled tho
zealous chaplain, as a madman ; compelling him to take the
route toward the settlements, however ; their respect for this
unfortunate class of beings, rendering them averse to his
rejoining their enemies. He could, and did impart enough
to Beekman to quicken his march, and to bring him and
his followers up to the gate at a time when a minute might
have cost the entire garrison their lives.

Anxious as he was to seek Beulah and his child, Beek
man had a soldier's duties to perform, and those he would
not neglect. The sentinels were posted, and orders issued
to light lanterns, and to make a fire in the centre of tho
court, so that the actual condition of the field of battle might
be ascertained. A surgeon had accompanied Beekman's
party, and he was already at work, so far as the darkness
would allow. Many hands being employed, and combusti
bles easy to be found, ere long the desired light was gleam
ing on the terrible spectacle.

A dozen bodies were stretched in the court, of which,
three or four were fated never to rise again, in life. Of tho
rest, no less than four had fallen with broken heads, in
flicted by O'Hearn's shillelah. Though these blows were not
fatal, they effectually put the warriors hors dc combat. Of
the garrison, not one was among the slain, in this part of
the field. On a later investigation, however, it was ascer
tained that the poor old Scotch mason had received a mortal
hurt, through a window, and this by the very last shot, that
had been fired. On turning over the dead of the assailants,
too, it was discovered that Daniel the Miller was of tho
number. A few of the Mohawks were seen, with glowing
. in corners of the court, applying their own rude dress-
ings to their various hurts ; succeeding, on the whole, in

180 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

effecting the great purpose of* the healing art, about as well
as those who were committed to the lights of science.

Surprisingly few uninjured members of the assaulting
party, however, were to be found, when the lanterns ap
peared. Some had slipped through the gate before the sen
tinels were posted ; others had found their way to the roof,
and thence, by various means to the ground ; while a few
lay concealed in the buildings, until a favourable moment
offered to escape. Among all those who remained, not an
individual was found who claimed to be in any authority.
In a word, after five minutes of examination, both Beekman
and Willoughby were satisfied that there no longer existed
a force to dispute with them the mastery of the Hut.

" We have delayed too long relieving the apprehensions
of those who are very dear to us, Major Willoughby," Beek
man at length observed. " If you will lead the way to the
parts of the buildings where your — my mother, and wife, are
to be found, I will now follow you."

" Hold, Beekman — there yet remains a melancholy tale
to be told — nay, start Hot — I left our Beulah, and your boy,
in perfect health, less than a quarter of an hour since. But
my honoured, honourable, revered, beloved father has been
killed in a most extraordinary manner, and you will find his
widow and daughters weeping over his body."

This appalling intelligence produced a halt, during which
Willoughby explained all he knew of the manner of his
father's death, which was merely the little he had been en
abled to glean from Maud. As soon as this duty was per
formed, the gentlemen proceeded together to the apartment
of the mourners, each carrying a light.

Willoughby made an involuntary exclamation, when he
perceived that the door of his mother's room was open. He
had hoped Maud would have had the presence of mind to
close and lock it; but here he found it, yawning as if to in
vite the entrance of enemies. The light within, too, was
extinguished, though, by the aid of the lanterns, he saw large
traces of blood in the ante-room, and the passages he was
obliged to thread. All this hastened his steps. Presently
he stood in the chamber of death.

Short as had been the struggle, the thirst for scalps had
led some of the savages to this sanctuary. The instant the

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 181

Indians had gained the court, some of the most ferocious of
Iheir number had rushed into the building, penetrating ltd
- in a uay to defile them \\ith slaughter. The first
object that \Villoughby *>aw was one of these ruthless war
riors, stretched on the floor, with a living Indian, bleeding at
half a dozen uoumls, standing over him; the eye-balls of
the latter were glaring like the tiger's that is suddenly con
front* d to a foe. An involuntary motion was made towards
the rifle he carried, by the major; but the next look told him
that the living Indian was Nick. Then it was, that he :
more steadily about him, and took in all the horrible truths
of that fatal chamber.

.Mrs. \VilloLighby was seated in the chair where she had
last been seen, perfectly dead. No mark of violence was
ever found on her body, however, and there is no doubt that
her constant spirit had followed that of her husband to the
other world, in submission to the blow which had separated
them. Beulah had been shot ; not, as was afterwards as
certained, by any intentional aim, but by one of those ran
dom bullets, of which so many had been living through the
buildings. The missile had passed through her heart, and
she lay pressing the little Evert to her bosom, with that air
of steady and unerring affection which had mark'-d e\rry
act of her innocent and feeling life. The boy himself, thanks
to the tiger-like gallantry of Nick, had escaped unhurt. The
Tuscarora had seen a party of six take the direction of this
chamber, and he followed with an instinct of their intentions.
When the leader entered the room, and found three d«-ad
bodies, he raised a yell that betokened his delight at the
• et of gaining so many scalps; at the next instant,
while his fingers were actually entwined in the hair of Onp-
tain Willoughby, he fell by a blow from Wyandotte. Ni.-k
next extinguished the lamp, and then succeeded a
which none of the actors, themselves, could have described.
Another .Mohawk fell, and the remainder, after sulierinii
horribly from the keen knife of Niek, as well as fmm hlo-.vs
received from each other, dragged then. .nv, !ea\inj

th«- field to the Tuscarora. The lat:«-r met the almost be
wildered gaze of the major with a smile of grim triumph,
as he pointed to the three bodies of the beloved ones, and
said —

VOL. II. — 16

182 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" See — all got scalp ! Deaf, nothin' — scalp, ebbery
t'ing."

We shall not attempt to describe the outbreaking of an
guish from the husband and brother. It was a moment of
wild grief, that bore down all the usual restraints of man
hood, though it was such a moment as an American frontier
residence has often witnessed. The quiet but deep-feeling
nature of Beekman received a shock that almost produced
a dissolution of his earthly being. He succeeded, however,
in raising the still warm body of Beulah from the floor, and
folding it to his heart. Happily for his reason, a flood of
tears, such as women shed,. burst from his soul, rather than
from his eyes, bedewing her still sweet and placid counte
nance.

To say that Robert Willoughby did not feel the desola
tion, which so suddenly alighted on a family that had
often been quoted for its mutual affection and happiness,
would be to do him great injustice. Fie even staggered un
der the blow; yet his heart craved further information.
The Indian was gazing intently on the sight of Beekman's
grief, partly in wonder, but more in sympathy, when he felt
an iron pressure of his arm.

" Maud — Tuscarora" — the ' major rather groaned than
whispered in his ear, " know you anything of Maud ?"

Nick made a gesture of assent ; then motioned for the
other to follow. He led the way to the store-room, produced
the key, and throwing open the door, Maud was weeping on
Robert Willoughby's bosom in another instant. He would
not take her to the chamber of death, but urged her, by
gentle violence, to follow him to the library.

" God be praised for this mercy !" exclaimed the ardent
girl, raising her hands and streaming eyes to heaven. " I
know not, care not, who is conqueror, since you are safe !"

" Oh ! Maud — beloved one — we must now be all in all to
each other. Death has stricken the others."

This was a sudden and involuntary announcement, though
it was best it should be so under the circumstances. It was
long before Maud could hear an outline, even, of the details,
but she bore them better than Willoughby could have hoped.
The excitement had been so high, as to brace the mind to
meet any human evil. The sorrow that came afterwards,

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 183

though sweetened by so many tender recollections, and chas
tened hopes, was deep and enduring.

Our picture would not have been complete, without relat
ing the eara>tru|>he that befell the I lulled Knoll; hut, having
irgcd this painful duty, we prei'er t-> draw a veil over
Daimler of that dreadful night. The cries of the no-
s/when they learned the death of their old and young
mistress, disturbed the silence of the place for a few minutes,
and then a profound stillness settled on the buildings, mark
ing them distinctly as the house of mourning. On further
inquiry, too, it was ascertained that Great Smash, after
shooting an Oneida, had been slain and scalped. Pliny the
younger, also, fell fighting like a wild beast to defend the
entrance to his mistresses' apartments.

The following day, when light had returned, a more ac
curate idea was obtained of the real state of the valley.
All of the invading party, the dead and wounded excepted,
had made a rapid retreat, accompanied by most of the de
serters and their families. The name, known influence,
and actual authority of Colonel Beek man had wrought this
change; the irregular powers that had set the expedition in
motion, preferring to conceal their agency in the transac
tion, rather than make any hazardous attempt to claim tho
reward of patriotic service, as is so often done in revolu
tions, for merciless deeds and selfish acts. There had been
no real design on the part of the whites to injure any of the
family in their persons; but, instigated by Joel, they had
fancied the occasion favourable for illustrating their own
public virtue, while they placed themselves in the way of
receiving fortune's favours. The assault that actually oc
curred, was one of those uncontrollable outbreakings of
Indian ferocity, that have so often set at defiance the re
straints of discipline.

Nick was not to be found either. He had been last seen
dressing his wounds, with Indian patience, and Indian skill,
preparing to apply herbs and roots, in quest of which ho
went into the forest about midnight. As he did not return,
\Vil!oi'!_'h!.y f'-ared that he might be suffering alone, and
determined to have a search made, as soon as he had per
formed the last sad offices for the dead.

Two days occurred, however, before this melancholy duty

184 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

was discharged. The bodies of all the savages who had
fallen were interred the morning after the assault ; but that
of Jamie Allen, with those of the principal persons of the
family, were kept for the pious purposes of affection, until
the time mentioned.

The funeral was a touching sight. The captain, his wife,
and daughter, were laid, side by side, near the chapel ; the
first and last of their race that ever reposed in the wilds of
America. Mr. Woods read the funeral service, summoning
all his spiritual powers to sustain him, as he discharged this
solemn office of the church. Willoughby's arm was around
the waist of Maud, who endeavoured to reward his tender
assiduities by a smile, but could not. Colonel Beekman
held little Evert in his arms, and stood over the grave with
the countenance of a resolute man stricken with grief — one
of the most touching spectacles of our nature.

" I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord"
sounded in the stillness of that valley like a voice from
heaven, pouring out consolation on the bruised spirits of
the mourners. Maud raised her face from Willoughby's
shoulder, and lifted her blue eyes to the cloudless vault
above her, soliciting mercy, and offering resignation in the
look. The line of troops in the back-ground moved, as by
a common impulse, and then a breathless silence showed
the desire of these rude beings not to lose a syllable.

A round red spot formed on each of the cheeks of Mr.
Woods as he proceeded, and his voice gathered strength,
until its lowest intonations came clear and distinct on every
ear. Just as the bodies were about to be lowered into their
two receptacles, the captain, his wife and daughter being
laid in the same grave, Nick came with his noiseless step
near the little group of mourners. He had issued from tho
forest only a few minutes before, and understanding the
intention of the ceremony, he approached the spot as fast
as weakness and wounds would allow. Even he listened
with profound attention to the chaplain, never changing his
eye from his face, unless to glance at the coffins as they lay
in their final resting-place.

" / heard a voice from Heaven, saying unto me, write,
From henceforth blessed are the dead who die in the Lord ;
even so saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labours ,"

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 185

continued the chaplain, his voice beginning to betray a
tremor; then the i:;i/«- «.f the Tu-earora Lvalue keen as the
panther's glance at his discovered victim. Tears followed,
and, lor a moment, the voice was choked.

" Why you woman I" demanded Nick, fiercely. " Savo
all 'c sculp!"

This strange interruption failed to produce any effect.
First Beeknaan yielded ; Maud and \\ illoughby followed ;
until Mr. Woods, himself, unable to resist the double as
saults of the power of sympathy and his own affection,
closed the book and wept like a child.

It required minutes for the mourners to recover their self-
command. Wlx-n the latter returned, however, all knelt on
the grass, the line of soldiers included, and the closing
prayers were raised to the throne of God.

Tliis act of devotion enabled the mourners to maintain an
appearance of greater tranquillity until the graves were filled.
The troops advanced, and fired three volleys over the cap
tain's grave, when all retired towards the Hut. Maud had
caught little Kvert from the arms of his father, and, pressing
him to her bosom, the motherless babe seemed disposed to
slumber there. In this manner she walked away, attended
closely by the father, who now cherished his boy as an only
ire.

W illoughby lingered the last at the grave, Nick alone
remaining near him. The Indian had been struck by the
exhibition of deep sorrow that he had witnessed, and he felt
an uneasiness that was a little unaccountable to himself. It
was one of the caprices of this strange nature of ours, that
he should feel a desire to console those whom he had so
deeply injured himself. He drew near to Robert Willough-
bv, therefore, and, laying a hand on the lattcr's arm, drew
his look in the direction of his own red and speaking face.

" Why so sorry, major ?" he said. " Warrior nebber die
but once — must die sometime."

** There lie my father, my mother, and my only sister,
Indian — is not that enough to make the stoutest heart bend ?
You know them, too, \ick- did you ever know better?"

<• Squaw good — both squaw good — Nick sec no pale-face
squaw he like so much/'

" I thank you, Nick ! This rude tribute to the virtues of
16*

186 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

my mother and sister, is far more grateful to me than the
calculating and regulated condolence of the world."

" No squaw so good as ole one — she, all heart — love every
body, but self."

This was so characteristic of his mother, that Willoughby
was startled by the sagacity of the savage, though reflection
told him so long an acquaintance with the family must have
made a dog familiar with this beautiful trait in his mother.

" And my father, Nick !" exclaimed the major, with feel
ing — " my noble, just, liberal, gallant father ! — He, too, you
knew well, and must have loved."

" No so good as squaw," answered the Tuscarora, sen-
tentiously, and not altogether without disgust in his manner.

" We are seldom as good as our wives, and mothers, and
sisters, Nick, else should we be angels on earth. But, al
lowing for the infirmities of us men, my father was just and
good."

"Too much flog" — answered the savage, sternly—" make
Injin's back sore."

This extraordinary speech struck the major less, at the
time, than it did, years afterwards, when he came to reflect
on all the events and dialogues of this teeming week. Such
was also the case as to what followed.

" You are no flatterer, Tuscarora, as I have always found
in our intercourse. If my father ever punished you with
severity, you will allow me, at least, to imagine it was me
rited."

" Too much flog, I say," interrupted the savage, fiercely.
"No difference, chief or not. Touch ole sore too rough.
Good, some; bad, some. Like weather— now shine; now
storm."

" This is no time to discuss these points, Nick. You
have fought nobly for us, and I thank you. Without your
aid, these beloved ones would have been mutilated, as well
as slain; and Maud— my own blessed Maud — might now
have been sleeping at their sides."

Nick's face was now all softness again, and he returned
the pressure of Willoughby's hand with honest fervour.
Here they separated. The major hastened to the side of
Maud, to fold her to his heart, and console her with his love.
Nick passed into the forest, returning no more to the Hut.

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 187

•\-ith- led him near the irrave. On the sido where lay
the body of Mrs. Willoughby, IK- threw a flower lie had
plucked in the meadow; \\lnlc he shook his IIIIL- r inena-
riniily at the other, whieh liid the person of his em-my. In
this, he was true to his nature, \\hieh taught him never to
forget u favour, or ibrgive an injury.

CHAPTER XV.

" I shall go on through all eternity,
Thank God, I only am an embryo still :
The small beginning Of a glorious soul,
An atom that shall fill immensity."

COXE.

A FORTNIGHT elapsed ere Willoughby and his party could
tear themselves from a scene that had witnessed so much
domestic happiness; but on which had fallen the blight of
death. During that time, the future arrangements of the
survivors were completed. Beekman was made acquainted
with the state of feeling that existed between his brother-in-
law and Maud, and he advised an immediate union.

" Be happy while you can," he said, with bitter emphasis.
" We live in troubled times, and heaven knows when wo
shall sec better. Maud has not a blood- relation in all A Ul
rica, unless there may happen to be some in the British
army. Though we should all be happy to protect and
cherish the dear girl, she herself would probably prefer to
be near those whom nature has appointed her friends. To
me, she? will always seem a sister, as you must ever
brother. By uniting yourselves at once, all appearances
of impropriety will be avoided; and in time, God a\
evil, you can introduce your wife to her English con°
nections."

" You forget, Beekman, that you are giving this advice
to one who is a prisoner on parole, and one who may pos
sibly be treated as a spy."

"No — that is impossible. Schuyler, our noble com
mander, is both just and a gentleman. He will tolerate

188 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

nothing of the sort. Your exchange can easily be effected,
and, beyond your present difficulties, I can pledge myself
to be able to protect you."

Willoughby was not averse to following this advice ; and
he urged it upon Maud, as the safest and most prudent
course they could pursue. Our heroine, however, was so
reluctant even to assuming the appearance of happiness, so
recently after the losses she had experienced, that the'lover's
task of persuasion was by no means easy. Maud was to
tally free from affectation, while she possessed the keenest
sense of womanly propriety. Her intercourse with Robert
Willoughby had been of the tenderest and most confidential
nature, above every pretence of concealment, and was ren
dered sacred by the scenes through which they had passed.
Her love, her passionate, engrossing attachment, she did
not scruple to avow ; but she could not become a bride
while the stains of blood seemed so recent on the very
hearth around which they were sitting. She still saw the
forms of the dead, in their customary places, heard their
laughs, the tones of their affectionate voices, the maternal
whisper, the playful, paternal reproof, or Beulah's gentle call.

" Yet, Robert," said Maud, for she could now call him by
that name, and drop the desperate familiarity of l Bob,' — •
" yet, Robert, there would be a melancholy satisfaction in
making our vows at the altar of the little chapel, where we
have so often worshipped together — the loved ones who
are gone and we who alone remain."

" True, dearest Maud ; and there is another reason why
we should quit this place only as man and wife. Beek-
man has owned that a question will probably be raised
among the authorities at Albany concerning the nature of
my visit here. It might relieve him from an appeal to more
influence than would be altogether pleasant, did I appear as
a bridegroom rather than as a spy."

The word " spy" settled the matter. All ordinary con-
siderations were lost sight of, under the apprehensions it
created, and Maud frankly consented to become a wife thai
very day. The ceremony was performed by Mr. Woods
accordingly, and the little chapel witnessed tears of bitter
recollections mingling with the smiles with which the bride
received the warm embrace of her husband, after the bene-

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 189

diction was pronounced. Still, all felt that, under the cir-
cumvtances, (It-lay would have been unwise. .Maud >:i\v a
species of holy solemnity in a ceremony so closely con
nected with scenes so sad.

A day or two after the marriage, all that remained of
those who had so lately crowded the Hut, left the valley
;;<T. The valuables were packed and transported to
boats lying in the stream below the mills. All the cattle,
hogs, Ace.; were collected and driven towards the settle-
ments; and horses wen- prepared for Maud and the females,
who were to thread the path that led to Fort Stanwix. In a
word, the K mill was to be abandoned, as a spot unfit to be
occupied in such a war. None but labourers, indeed, could,
or would remain, and Bcekmnn thought it wisest to leave
the spot entirely to nature, for the fe\v succeeding years.

There had been some rumours of confiscations by the
new state, and Willoughby had come to the conclusion that
it would be safer to transfer this property to one who would
be certain to escape such an infliction, than to retain it in
his own hands. Little Evert was entitled to receive a por
tion of the captain's estate by justice, if not by law. No
will had been found, and the son succeeded as heir-at-law.
A deed was accordingly drawn up by Mr. Woods, who un
derstood such matters, and being duly executed, the Heaver
Dam property v\as vested in fee. in the child. His own
thirty thousand pounds, the personals he inherited from his
mother, and Maud's fortune, to say nothing of the major's
commission, formed an ample support for the new-married
pair. When all was settled, and made productive, indeed,
Willoughby found himself the master of between three and
four thousand sterling a year, exclusively of his allowances
from the British government, an ample fortune for that day.
In looking over the accounts of Maud's fortune, lie had rea
son to admire the rigid justice, and free-handed liberality
with which his father had managed her affairs. Kvry
farthing of her income had been transferred to capital, a
long minority nearly doubling the original investment. Un
known to himself, he had married one of the largest heir
esses then to be found in the American colonies. This was
unknown to Maud, also ; though it gave her great delight

190 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

on her husband's account, when she came to learn the
truth.

Albany was reached in due time, though not without en
countering the usual difficulties. Here the party separated.
The remaining Plinys and Smashes were all liberated, hand
some provisions made for their little wants, and good places
found for them, in the connection of the family to which
they had originally belonged. Mike announced his deter
mination to enter a corps that was intended expressly to
fight the Indians. He had a long score to settle, and hav
ing no wife or children, he thought he might amuse himself
in this way, during a revolution, as well as in any other.

" If yer honour was going anywhere near the county
Leitrim," he said, in answer to Willoughby's offer to keep
him near himself, " I might travel in company ; seein' that
a man likes to look on ould faces, now and then. Many-
thanks for this bag of gold, which will sarve to buy scalps
wid' ; for divil bur-r-n me, if I don't carry on that trade, for
some time to come. T'ree cuts wid a knife, half a dozen
pokes in the side, and a bullet scraping the head, makes a
man mindful of what has happened ; to say nothing of the
captain, and Madam Willoughby, and Miss Beuly — God for
ever bless and presarve 'em all t'ree — and, if there was such
a thing as a bit of a church in this counthry, wouldn't I
use this gould for masses ? — dat I would, and let the scalps
go to the divil !"

This was an epitome of the views of Michael O'Hearn.
No arguments of Willoughby's could change his resolu
tion ; but he set forth, determined to illustrate his career by
procuring as many Indian scalps, as an atonement for the
wrongs done " Madam "Willoughby and Miss Beuly," as
came within his reach.

"And you, Joyce," said the major, in an interview he
had with the serjeant, shortly after reaching Albany ; " I
trust we are not to part. Thanks to Colonel Beekman's
influence and zeal, I am already exchanged, and shall repair
to New York next week. You are a soldier ; and these are
times in which a good soldier is of some account. I think I
can safely promise you a commission in one of the new
provincial regiments, about to be raised."

" I thank your honour, but do not feel at liberty to accept

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 191

the offer. I took service with Captain Willoughby for life;
had he lived, I would have followed wherever lie led. Uut
that enlistment has expired; and 1 am now like a recruit
before he takes the bounty. In such cases, a man has always
a right to pick his corps. Politics I do not much under
stand ; but when the question comes up of pulling ah
for or against his country, an unengaged man has a right
to choose. Between the two, meaning no reproach to your
self, Major Willoughby, who had regularly taken service
with the other side, before the war began — but, between the
two, I would rather fight an Englishman, than an Ameri
can."

" You may possibly be right, Joyce ; though, as you say,
my service is taken. I hope you follow the dictates of con
science, as I am certain I do myself. We shall never meet
in arms, however, if I can prevent it. There is a negotia
tion for a lieutenant-colonelcy going on, which, if it suc
ceed, will carry me to England. I shall never serve an
hour longer against these colonies, if it be in my power to
avoid it."

" States, with your permission, Major Willoughby,"
answered the serjeant, a little stiffly. " I am glad to hear
it, sir; for, though I wish my enemies good soldiers, I
would rather not have the son of my old captain among
them. Colonel Beekman has offered to make me serjeant-
major of his own regiment ; and we both of us join next
week."

Joyce was as good as his word. He became serjeant-
major, and, in the end, lieutenant and adjutant of the regi
ment he had mentioned. He fought in most of the princi
pal battles of the war, and retired at the peace, with an
excellent character. Ten yrnrs later, he fell, in one of the
murderous Indian affairs, that occurred during the first
presidential term, a grey-headed captain of foot. The man
ner of his death was not to be regretted, perhaps, as it was
what he had always wished might happen ; but, it was a
singular fact, that Mike stood over his body, and protected
it from mutilation; the County Lcitrim-man having turned
soldier by trade, re-enlisting n-iiularly, us soon as at liberty,
and laying up scalps on all suitable occasions.

Blodget, too, had followed Joyce to the wars. The reudi-

192 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

ness and intelligence of this young man, united to a courage
of proof, soon brought him forward, and he actually came
out of the revolution a captain. His mind, manners and
information advancing with himself, he ended his career, not
many years since, a prominent politician in one of the new
states ; a general in the militia — no great preferment, by the
way, for one who had been a corporal at the Hut — and a
legislator. Worse men have often acted in all these capaci
ties among us ; and it was said, with truth, at the funeral of
General Blodget, an accident that does not always occur on
such occasions, that " another revolutionary hero is gone."
Beekman was never seen to smile, from the moment he first
beheld the dead body of Beulah, lying with little Evert in
her arms. He served faithfully until near the close of the
war, falling in battle only a few months previously to the
peace. His boy preceded him to the grave, leaving, as con
fiscations had gone out of fashion by that time, his uncle
heir-at-law, again, to the same property that he had con
ferred on himself.

As for Willoughby and Maud, they were safely conveyed
to New York, where the former rejoined his regiment. Our
heroine here met her great-uncle, General Meredith, the first
of her own blood relations whom she had seen since infancy.
Her reception was grateful to her feelings ; and, there being
a resemblance in years, appearance and manners, she trans
ferred much of that affection which she had thought interred
for ever in the grave of her reputed father, to this revered
relative. He became much attached to his lovely niece,
himself; and, ten years later, Willoughby found his income
quite doubled, by his decease.

At the expiration of six months, the gazette that arrived
from England, announced the promotion of " Sir Robert
Willoughby, Bart., late major in the — th, to be lieutenant-
colonel, by purchase, in His Majesty's — th regiment of
foot." This enabled Willoughby to quit America ; to which
quarter of the world he had no occasion to be sent during
the remainder of the war.

Of that war, itself, there is little occasion to speak. Its
progress and termination have long been matters of history.
The independence of America was acknowledged by Eng
land in 1783 ; and, immediately after, the republicans com-

TfcE HUTTED KNOLL. 193

mcnccd the conquest of their wide-spread domains, by means
of the arts of peace. In 1785, the first great assaults were
made on the wilderness, in that mountainous region which
has been the principal scene of our tale. The Indians had
been driven oil', in a great measure, by the events of tho
revolution ; and the owners of estates, granted under the
cruwn, began to search for their lands in the untenanted
woods. Such isolated families, too, as had taken refuge in
the settlements, now began to return to their deserted posses
sions ; and soon the smokes of clearings were obscuring the
sun. Whitestown, Utica, on the site of old Fort Stanwix,
Cooperstown, for years the seat of justice for several thou
sand square miles of territory, all sprang into existence be
tween the years 1785 and 1790. Such places as Oxford,
Binghamton, Norwich, Sherburne, Hamilton, and twenty
more, that now dot the region of which we have been writ
ing, did not then exist, even in name ; for, in that day, the
appellation and maps came after the place ; whereas, now,
the former precede the last.

The ten years that elapsed between 1785 and 1795, did
wonders for all this mountain district. More favourable
lands lay spread in the great west, but the want of roads,
and remoteness from the markets, prevented their occupa
tion. For several years, therefore, the current of emigra
tion which started out of the eastern states, the instant peace
was proclaimed, poured its tide into the counties mentioned
in our opening chapter — counties as they are to-day ; county
ay, and fragment of a county, too, as they were then.

The New York Gazette, a journal that frequently related
facts that actually occurred, announced in its number of
June llth, 1795, "His Majesty's Packet that has just ar-
rived" — it required half a century to teach the journalists
of this country the propriety of saying " His Britannic
Majesty's Packet," instead of " His Majesty's," a bit of good
taste, and of good sense, that many of them have yet to
learn — " has brought out" home would have been better
" among her passengers, Lieutenant-General Sir Robert
Willoughby, and his lady, both of whom are natives of this
state. We welcome them back to their land of nativity,
where we can assure them they will be cordially received,
notwithstanding old quarrels. Major Willoughby's kind-

VOL. II.— 17

194 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

ness to American prisoners is gratefully remembered ; nor
is it forgotten that he desired to exchange to another regi
ment in order to avoid further service in this country."

It will be conceded, this was a very respectable puff for
the year 1795, when something like moderation, truth, and
propriety were observed upon such occasions. The effect
was to bring the English general's name into the mouths of
the whole state ; a baronet causing a greater sensation then,
in America, than a duke would produce to-day. It had the
effect, however, of bringing around General Willoughby
many of his father's, and his own old friends, and he was
as well received in New York, twelve years after the termi
nation of the conflict, as if he had fought on the other side.
The occurrence of the French revolution, and the spread
of doctrines that were termed Jacobinical, early removed
all the dissensions between a large portion of the whigs of
America and the tories of England, on this side of the wa
ter at least; and Providence only can tell what might have
been the consequences, had this feeling been thoroughly
understood on the other.

Passing over all political questions, however, our narra
tive calls us to the relation of its closing scene. The visit
of Sir Robert and Lady Willoughby to the land of their
birth was, in part, owing to feeling ; in part, to a proper
regard for the future provision of their children. The ba
ronet had bought the ancient paternal estate of his family
in England, and having two daughters, besides an only son,
it occurred to him that the American property, called the
Hutted Knoll, might prove a timely addition to the ready
money he had been able to lay up from his income. Then,
both he and his wife had a deep desire to revisit those scenes
where they had first learned to love each other, and which
still held the remains of so many who were dear to them.

The cabin of a suitable sloop was therefore engaged, and
the party, consisting of Sir Robert, his wife, a man and
woman servant, and a sort of American courier, engaged
for the trip, embarked on the morning of the 25th of July.
On the afternoon of the 30th, the sloop arrived in safety at
Albany, where a carriage was hired to proceed the remain
der of the way by land. The route by old Fort Stanwix,
as Utica was still generally called, was taken. Our travel-

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 105

lers reached it on the >f the third day ; tho ' Sands,'

which arc now traversed in less than an hour, then occu
pying more than hall of tin.- first day. When at Fort Stan-
\vi.\, a passable country road was ii»uml, by which the tra
vellers journeyed until they reached a tavern that uni'.e.l
many of the comforts of a coarse civilisation, with frontier
simplicity. Here they were given to und'-rstand they had
only a dozen miles to go, in order to reach the Knoll.

It was necessary to make the remainder of the journey
on horseback. A large, untenanted estate lay between the
highway and the valley, across which no public road had
yet been made. Foot-paths, however, abounded, and the
rivulet was found without any difficulty. It was, perhaps,
fortunate for the privacy of the Knoll, that it lay in the line
of no frequented route, and, "squatters being rare in that
day, Willoughby saw, the instant he struck the path that
followed the sinuosities of the stream., that it had been sel
dom trodden in the interval of the nineteen years which had
occurred since he had last seen it himself. The evidences
of this fact increased, as the stream was ascended, until tho
travellers reached the mill, when it was found that the spirit
of destruction, which so widely prevails in the loose state of
society that exists in all new countries, had been at work.
Kvory one of the buildings at the falls had been burnt ;
probably as much because it was in the power of some reck
less wanderer to work mischief, as for any other reason.
That the act was the result of some momentary impulse,
was evident in the circumstance that the mischief went no
further. Some of the machinery had been carried away,
however, to be set up in other places, on a principle that is
very widely extended through all border settlements, which
considers the temporary disuse of property as its virtual
abandonment.

It was a moment of pain and pleasure, strangely min
when Willoughby and Maud reached the rocks, ami
first view of the ancient Heaver Dam. All the buildings
remained, surprisingly little altered to the eye by the lapse
of years. The gates had !.« en secured when they Id! tho
place, in 177(> ; and the Hut, havinir no accessible external
windows, that dwelling remained positively intact. It is true,
quite half the palisadoes were rotted down ; but the Hut,

196 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

itself, had resisted the ravages of time. A fire had been
kindled against its side, but the stone walls had opposed an
obstacle to its ravages ; and an attempt, by throwing a
brand upon the roof, had failed of its object, the shingles
not igniting. On examination, the lock of the inner gate
was still secure. The key had been found, and, on its ap
plication, an entrance was obtained into the court.

What a moment was that, when Maud, fresh from the
luxuries of an English home, entered this long and well re
membered scene of her youth ! Rank grasses were grow
ing in the court, but they soon disappeared before the scythes
that had been brought, in expectation of the circumstance.
Then, all was clear for an examination of the house. The
Hut was exactly in the condition in which it had been left,
with the exception of a little, and a very little, dust col
lected by time.

Maud was still in the bloom of womanhood, feminine,
beautiful, full of feeling, and as sincere as when she left
these woods, though her feelings were tempered a little by
intercourse with the world. She went from room to room,
hanging on Willoughby's arm, forbidding any to follow.
All the common furniture had been left in the house, in
expectation it would be inhabited again, ere many years ;
and this helped to preserve the identity. The library was
almost entire ; the bed-rooms, the parlours, and even the
painting-room, were found very much as they would have
appeared, after an absence of a few months. Tears flowed
in streams down the cheeks of Lady Willoughby, as she
went through room after room, and recalled to the mind of
her husband the different events of which they had been
the silent witnesses. Thus passed an hour or two of unut
terable tenderness, blended with a species of holy sorrow.
At the end of that- time, the attendants, of whom many had
been engaged, had taken possession of the offices, &c., and
were bringing the Hut once more into a habitable condition.
Soon, too, a report was brought that the mowers, who had
been brought in anticipation of their services being wanted,
had cut a broad swathe to the ruins of the chapel, and the
graves of the family.

It was now near the setting of the sun, and the hour was
favourable for the melancholy duty that remained. For-

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 197

bidding any lo follow, Willmighby proceeded with Maud to
the graves.. These had born dug within a little thicket of
shrubs, planted by poor Jamie Allen, under Maud's own
diivetiuiis. She had then thought that the spot might one
day be wanted. These bushes, lilacs, and ceringos, had
grown to a vast size, in that rich soil. They completely
concealed the space within, an area of some fifty square
feet, from- the observation of those without. The grass had
been cut over all, however, and an opening made by the
mowers gave access to the graves. On reaching this open
ing, Willoughby started at hearing voices within the inclo-
sure; he was about to reprove the intruders, when Maud
pressed his arm, and whispered —

"Listen, Wilionohhy — those voices sound strangely to
my ears ! We have heard them before."

" I tell ye, Nick — ould Nicky, or Saucy Nick, or what
ever 's yer name," said one within in a strong Irish accent,
"that Jamie, the mason that was, is forenent ye, at this
minute, under that bit of a sod — and, it 's his honour, and
Missus, and Miss Beuly, that is buried here. Och ! ye 're
a cr'ature, Nick ; good at takin' scalps, but ye knows nothin*
of graves; barrin' the quhantity ye've helped to fill."

" Good" — answered the Indian. " Cap'in here ; squaw
here; darter here. Where son? — where t'other gal?"

" Here," answered Willoughby, leading Maud within the
hedge. " I am Robert Willoughby, and this is Maud Mere
dith, my wife."

Mike fairly started ; he even showed a disposition to seize
p. musket which lay on the grass. As for the Indian, a tree
in the forest could not have stood less unmoved than he was
at this unexpected interruption. Then all four stood in silent
admiration, noting the changes which time had, more or
less, wrought in all.

Willoughby was in the pride of manhood. IIo had served
with distinction, and his countenance and frame both showed
it, though neither had suffered more than was necessary to
give him a high military air, and a look of robust vigour.
As (or Maud, with her graceful form fully developed by her
riding-habit, her soft lineaments and polished expression, no
one would have thought her more than thirty, which wag
ten years less than her real age. With Mike and Nick it
17*

198 THE UUTTED KNOLL.

was very different. Both had grown old, not only in fact,
but in appearance. The Irishman was turned of sixty, and
his hard, coarse-featured face, burnt as red as the sun in a
fog, by exposure and Santa Cruz, was getting to be wrinkled
and a little emaciated. Still, his frame was robust and
powerful. His attire was none of the best, and it was to
be seen at a glance that it was more than half military. In
point of fact, the poor fellow had been refused a reinlistment
in the army, on account of his infirmities and years, and
America was not then a country to provide retreats for her
veterans. Still, Mike had an ample pension for wounds,
and could not be said to be in want. He had suffered in
the same battle with Joyce, in whose company he had ac
tually been corporal O'Hearn, though his gallant commander
had not risen to fight again, as had been the case with the
subordinate.

Wyandotte exhibited still greater changes. He had seen
his threescore and ten years ; and was fast falling into the
" sere and yellow leaf." His hair was getting grey, and
his frame, though still active and sinewy, would have yield
ed under the extraordinary marches he had once made. In
dress, there was nothing to remark ; his ordinary Indian
attire being in as good condition as was usual for the man.
Willougbby thought, however, that his eye was less wild
than when he knew him before; and every symptom of in
temperance had vanished, not only from his countenance,
but his person.

From the moment Willoughby appeared, a marked change
came over the countenance of Nick. His dark eye, which
still retained much of its brightness, turned in the direction
of the neighbouring chapel, and he seemed relieved when a
rustling in the bushes announced a footstep. There had not
been another word spoken when the lilacs were shoved aside,
and Mr. Woods, a vigorous little man, in a green old age,
entered the area. Willoughby had not seen the chaplain
since they parted at Albany, and the greetings were as warm
as they were unexpected.

" I have lived a sort of hermit's life, my dear Bob, since
the death of your blessed parents," said the divine, clearing
his eyes of tears ; " now and then cheered by a precious
letter from yourself and Maud — I call you both by the names

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 199

I gave you both in baptism — and it was, * I, Maud, take
thee, Robert? when you stood before the altar in that little
edifice — \i>u \\ill pardon me if I am too familiar with a ge
neral oilier r and his lady"

" Familiar !"' exclaimed both in a breath ; — and Maud's
soft, \\liite hand \\as extended towards the chaplain, with
reproachful earnestness — " We, who were made Christians
by you, and who have so much reason to remember and
love you always !"

"Well, well; I see you are Robert and Maud, still" —
dashing streaming tears from his eyes now. "Yes, I did
bring you both into God's visible church on earth, and you
were baptised by one who received his ordination from the
Archbishop of Canterbury himself," — Maud smiled a little
archly — " and who has never forgotten his ordination vows,
as he humbly trusts. But you are not the only Christians
I have made — I now rank Nicholas among the number" —

"Nick!" interrupted Sir Robert — " Wyandotte !" added
his wife, with a more delicate tact.

" I call him Nicholas, now, since he was christened by
that name — there is no longer a Wyandotte, or a Saucy
Nick. Major Willoughby, I have a secret to communicate
— I beg pardon, Sir Robert — but you will excuse old habits
— if you will walk this way."

Willoughby was apart with the chaplain a full half-hour,
during which time Maud wept over the graves, the rest stand
ing by in respectful silence. As for Nick, a stone could
scarcely have been more fixed than his attitude. Never
theless, his mien was rebuked, his eye downcast; even his
bosom was singularly convulsed. He knew that the chap
lain was communicating to Willoughby the manner in which
he had slain his father. At length, the gentlemen returned
slowly towards the graves; the general agitated, frowning,
and flushed. As for Mr. Woods, he was placid and full of
hope. Willoughby had yielded to his expostulations and
arguments a forgiveness, which came reluctantly, and per
haps as much for the want of a suitable object for retaliation,
as from a sense of Christian duty.

" Nicholas," said the chaplain, " I have told the general
all."

u He know him !" cried the Indian, with startling energy.

200 THE HUTTED KNOLL.

" I do, Wyandotte ; and sorry have I been to learn if.
You have made my heart bitter."

Nick was terribly agitated. His youthful and former
opinions maintained a fearful struggle with those which had
come late in life ; the result being a wild admixture of hig
sense of Indian justice, and submission to the tenets of his
new, and imperfectly-comprehended faith. For a moment,
the first prevailed. Advancing, with a firm step, to the
general, he put his own bright and keen tomahawk into the
other's hands, folded his arms on his bosom, bowed his head
a little, and said, firmly —

" Strike— Nick kill cap'in— Major kill Nick."

" No, Tuscarora, no," answered Sir Robert Willoughby,
his whole soul yielding before this act of humble submission
— " May God in heaven forgive the deed, as I now forgive
you."

There was a wild smile gleaming on the face of the In
dian ; he grasped both hands of Willoughby in his own.
He then muttered the words, " God forgive," his eye rolled
upward at the clouds, and he fell dead on the grave of his
victim. It was thought, afterwards, that agitation had ac
celerated the crisis of an incurable affection of the heart.

A few minutes of confusion followed. Then Mike, bare
headed, his old face flushed and angry, dragged from his
pockets a string of strange-looking, hideous objects, and laid
them by the Indian's side. They were human scalps, collected
by himself, in the course of many campaigns, and brought,
as a species of hecatomb, to the graves of the fallen.

" Out upon ye, Nick !" he cried. " Had I known the like
of that, little would I have campaigned in yer company !
Och! 'twas an undacent deed, and a hundred confessions
would barely wipe it from yer sowl. It's a pity, too, that
ye 've died widout absolution from a praist, sich as I 've
tould ye off. Barrin' the brache of good fellicship, I could
have placed yer own scalp wid the rest, as a p'ace-ofFering,
to his Honour, the Missus and Miss Beuly "

"Enough," interrupted Sir Robert Willoughby, with an
authority of manner that Mike's military habits could not
resist ; " the man has repented, and is forgiven. Maud,
love, it is time to quit this melancholy scene ; occasions will
offer to revisit it"

THE HUTTED KNOLL. 201

In the end, Mr. Woods took possession of the Hut, as a
sort of hermitage, in which to spend the remainder of his
days. He had toiled hard for the conversion of Nick, in
gratitude for the manner in which he had fought in defence
of the females. He now felt as keen a desire to rescue
the Irishman from the superstitions of what he deemed an
error quite as fatal as heathenism. Mike consented to pass
the remainder of his days at the Knoll, which was to be,
and in time, was, renovated, under their joint care.

Sir Robert and Lady Willoughby passed a month in the
valley. Nick had been buried within the bushes ; and even
Maud had come to look upon this strange conjunction of
graves, with the eye of a Christian, blended with the tender
regrets of a woman. The day that the general and his
wife left the valley for ever, they paid a final visit to the
graves. Here Maud wept for an hour. Then her husband,
passing an arm around her waist, drew her gently away ;
saying, as they were quitting the inclosure —

"They are in Heaven, dearest— ^looking down in love,
quite likely, on us, the objects of so much of their earthly
affection. As for Wyandotte, he lived according to his
habits and intelligence, and happily died under the convic
tions of a conscience directed by the lights of divine grace.
Little will the deeds of this life be remembered, among
those who have been the true subjects of its blessed influ
ence. If this man were unmerciful in his revenge, he also
remembered my mother's kindnesses, and bled for her and
her daughters. Without his care, my life would have
remained unblessed with your love, my ever-precious Maud !
He never forgot a favour, or forgave an injury."

THE END.

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