Wyandotté

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 perpendicular height, having a summit of about an acre of level land, and falling off on its three sides, to the east and west precipitously; to the south quite gently and with regularity. It was this accidental formation which had induced the 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 islet 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 overhung the plain. It was almost inaccessible, while the formation on the other sides offered singular facilities both for a dwelling and for a 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 gateway, in the centre of its southern face. The materials had all been found on the hill itself, which was well covered with heavy stones. Within this wall, which was substantially laid by a Scotch mason, one accustomed to the craft, the men had erected a building of massive squared pine timber, well secured by cross partitions. This building followed the wall in its whole extent, was just fifteen feet in elevation, without the roof, and was composed in part by the wall itself, the latter forming nearly one-half its height on the exterior. The breadth of this edifice was only twenty feet, clear of the stones and wood-work, leaving a court within of about one hundred by one hundred and seventy-five feet in extent. The roof extended over the gateway even, so that the space within was completely covered, the gates being closed. This much had been done during the preceding fall and winter, the edifice presenting an appearance of rude completeness on the exterior. Still it had a sombre and gaol-like air, there being nothing resembling a window visible; no aperture, indeed, on either of its outer faces, but the open gateway, of which the massive leaves were finished, and placed against the adjacent walls, but which were not yet hung. It is scarcely necessary to say, this house resembled barracks more than an ordinary dwelling. Mrs. Willoughby stood gazing at it, half in doubt whether to admire or to condemn, when a voice,

within a few yards, suddenly drew her attention in another direction.

"How you like him ?" asked Nick, who was seated on a stone, at the margin of the stream, washing his feet after a long day's hunt. "No t'nk 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 Eghtning. "Give him back 'e beaver, if you no like he discovery. Grad to see 'em back agin; 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'n. Yes, Nick wonderful commerant! no such eye he got, among Oneida !"

Here the Tuscarora left the side of the stream, and came up on the rock, shaking hands good-humouredly with Mrs. Willoughby, who rather liked the knave, though she knew him to possess most of the vices of his class.

"He very han'some beaver-dam," said Nick, sweeping his hand gracefully over the view; bye 'nd bye he'll bring potatoe, and corn, and cider-all 'e squaw want. Cap'in got good fort, too. Old soldier love fort; like to live in him."

"The day may come, Nick, when that fort may serve us all a good turn, out here in the wilderness," Mrs. Willoughby observed, in a somewhat melancholy tone, for her tender thoughts naturally turned towards her youthful and innocent daughters.

The Indian gazed at the house with that fierce intentness which sometimes glared in a manner that had got to be, in its ordinary aspects, dull and besotted. There was a startling intelligence in his eye at such moments; the feelings of youth and earlier habit once more asserting their power. Twenty years before, Nick had been foremost on the war-path: and what was scarcely less honourable, among the wisest around the council-fire. He was born a chief, and had made himself an outcast from his tribe more by the excess of ungovernable passions than from any act of base

meanness.

"Cap'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 Oneidas and Mohawks are not all children of heaven."

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

cally.

Yes, there are men of that class who are none the worse for

being locked out of one's house at times. But what do you think of the hut? You know I call the place the 'Hut,' the Hutted Knoll."

"He hole plenty of beaver, if you cotch him! But no water left, and he all go away. Why you make him stone, first; den you make him wood, a'ter, eh? Plenty rock; plenty tree."

Why, the stone wall can neither be cut away, nor set fire to, Nick; that's the reason. I took as much stone as was necessary, and then used wood, which is more easily worked, and which is also drier."

Good-Nick t'ought just dat. How you get him water if Injin

come?"

"There's the stream that winds round the foot of the hill, Nick, as you see; and then there is a delicious spring within one hundred yards of the very gate."

"Which side of him?" asked Nick, with his startling rapidity. 'Why here, to the left of the gate, and a little to the right of the large stone

"No-no," interrupted the Indian, "no left-no right—which side-inside gate; outside gate ?"

"Oh!-the spring is outside the gate, certainly; but means might be found to make a covered way to it; and then the stream winds round directly underneath the rocks behind the house, and 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, Injin mind him. When you t'ink red-skin come ag'in your fort, cap'in, now you'got him done?"

A long time first, I hope, Nick. We are at peace with France again, and I see no prospect of any new quarrel very soon. So long as the French and English are at peace, the red men will not dare to touch either.'

"Dat true as missionary! What a soldier do, cap'in, if so much peace? Warrior love a war-path.'

"I wish it were not so, Nick. But my hatchet is buried, I hope, for ever.

Nick hope cap'in know where to find him if he want to? Very bad to put anyt'ing where he forget, partic'larly tomahawk. Sometime quarrel come, like rain, when you don't tink."

Yes, that also cannot be denied. Yet I fear the next quarrel will be among ourselves, Nick. The government at home and the people of the colonies are getting to have bad blood between them." Dat very queer! Why pale-face mo'der and pale-face darter no love one anoder, like red-skin."

Really, Nick, you are somewhat interrogating this evening; but my squaw must be a little desirous of seeing the inside of her house as well as its outside, and I must refer you to that honest fellow yonder for an answer. His name is Mike; I hope he and you will always be good friends."

So saying, the captain nodded in a friendly manner, and led Mrs. Willoughby towards the hut, taking a foot-path that was already

trodden firm, and which followed the sinuosities of the stream, to which it served as a sort of a dyke. Nick took the captain at his word, and turning about he met the county Leitrim-man with an air of great blandness, thrusting out a hand, in the pale-face fashion, as a sign of amity, saying, at the same time

"How do, Mike? Sago-Sago-grad you come-good fellow to drink Santa Cruz wid Nick."

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

"Nick know him-know everyt'ing. Grad to see you, Mikehope we live together like good friend down yonder, up here, over dere."

"Ye do, do ye? Divil burn me, now, if I want any sich company. Ould Nick's yer name, is it?"

"Old Nick-young Nick-saucy Nick; all one, all to'ther. Make no odd what you call; I come."

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

"Live here-out yonder-in he hut, in he wood-where he want. Make no difference to Nick."

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

"If it's so indifferent to ye where ye dwell," asked Mike, "why can't you keep at home, and let a body carry these cloaks and bundles of the missusses out yonder to the house wither she's gone?" "Nick help carry 'em. Carry t'ing for that squaw hundred time."

"That what! D'ye mane Madam Willoughby by yer blackguard name?"

"Yes; cap'in wife-cap'in squaw, mean him. Carry bundle, basket, hundred time for him."

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

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

"That's another! Oh, ye animal; I've a great mind to set upon ye at once, and see what an honest man can do wid ye in fair fight!

If I only knew what ye'd got about yer toes, now, under them fine-looking things ye wear for shoes, once, I'd taich ye to talk of the missus in this style."

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

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

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

"Sartain-he is often seen here, at the Hut. He may be said to live here half his time."

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

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

66 Well may he look, to see us in sich company! Will he har-r-m

the missus?"

"Not he. I tell you, you'll 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 eyes 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 leggings 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 latter still went loping over the flat, having passed the captain, with a message to the barns.

"I'll warrant ye, now, the captain wouldn't tolerate such a crathure, but he's sent him off to the woods, as ye may see, like a devil as he is. To think of such a thing's spakeing 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 covered in his fine brogues; divil burn me, but I'd grapple him by the toes."

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Wyandotté: Or, the Hutted Knoll ; A Tale