The figure of the teamster was just discernible by the dim light, lounging by the side of his cattle with a listless air, as if fatigued by the toil of the day.
At the corner, where the jail stood, the progress of the ladies was impeded, for a moment, by the oxen, who were turned up to the side of the building, and given a lock of hay, which they had carried on their necks, as a reward for their patient labor, The whole of this was so natural, and so common, that Elizabeth saw nothing to induce a second glance at the team, until she heard the teamster speaking to his cattle in a low voice:
“Mind yourself, Brindle; will you, sir! will you!”
The language itself was so unusual to oxen, with which all who dwell in a new country are familiar; but there was something in the voice, also, that startled Miss Temple On turning the corner, she necessarily approached the man, and her look was enabled to detect the person of Oliver Edwards, concealed under the coarse garb of a teamster.
Their eyes met at the same instant, and, not withstanding the gloom, and the enveloping cloak of Elizabeth, the recognition was mutual.
“Miss Temple!”
“Mr. Edwards!” were exclaimed simultaneously, though a feeling that seemed common to both rendered the words nearly inaudible.
“Is it possible!” exclaimed Edwards, after the moment of doubt had passed; “do I see you so nigh the jail! but you are going to the rectory: I beg pardon, Miss Grant, I believe; I did not recognize you at first.”
The sigh which Louisa tittered was so faint, that it was only heard by Elizabeth, who replied quickly,
“We are going not only to the jail, Mr. Edwards’ but into it.
We wish to show the Leather-Stocking that we do not forget his services, and that at the same time we must be just, we are also grateful.
I suppose you are on a similar errand; but let me beg that you will give us leave to precede you ten minutes.
Good-night, sir; I—I—am quite sorry, Mr. Edwards, to see you reduced to such labor; I am sure my father would—”
“I shall wait your pleasure, madam,” interrupted the youth coldly.
“May I beg that you will not mention my being here?”
“Certainly,” said Elizabeth, returning his bow by a slight inclination of her head, and urging the tardy Louisa forward.
As they entered the jailer’s house, however, Miss Grant found leisure to whisper:
“Would it not be well to offer part of your money to Oliver? half of it will pay the fine of Bumppo; and he is so unused to hardships!
I am sure my father will subscribe much of his little pittance, to place him in a station that is more worthy of him.”
The involuntary smile that passed over the features of Elizabeth was blended with an expression of deep and heartfelt pity.
She did not reply, however, and the appearance of the jailer soon recalled the thoughts of both to the object of their visit.
The rescue of the ladies, and their consequent interest in his prisoner, together with the informal manners that prevailed in the country, all united to prevent any surprise on the part of the jailer, at their request for admission to Bumppo.
The note of Judge Temple, however, would have silenced all objections, if he had felt them and he led the way without hesitation to the apartment that held the prisoners.
The instant the key was put into the lock, the hoarse voice of Benjamin was heard, demanding:
“Yo hoy! who comes there?”
“Some visitors that you’ll be glad to see,” returned the jailer.
“What have you done to the lock, that it won’t turn.”
“Handsomely, handsomely, master,” cried the steward:
“I have just drove a nail into a berth alongside of this here bolt, as a stopper, d’ye see, so that Master Doo-but-little can’t be running in and breezing up another fight atwixt us: for, to my account, there’ll be but a han-yan with me soon, seeing that they’ll mulct me of my Spaniards, all the same as if I’d over-flogged the lubber.
Throw your ship into the wind, and lay by for a small matter, will ye? and I’ll soon clear a passage.”
The sounds of hammering gave an assurance that the steward was in earnest, and in a short time the lock yielded, when the door was opened.
Benjamin had evidently been anticipating the seizure of his money, for he had made frequent demands on the favorite cask at the
“Bold Dragoon,” during the afternoon and evening, and was now in that state which by marine imagery is called “half-seas-over.”
It was no easy thing to destroy the balance of the old tar by the effects of liquor, for, as he expressed it himself, “he was too low-rigged not to carry sail in all weathers;” but he was precisely in that condition which is so expressively termed “muddy.”
When he perceived who the visitors were, he retreated to the side of the room where his pallet lay, and, regardless of the presence of his young mistress, seated himself on it with an air of great sobriety, placing his back firmly against the wall.
“If you undertake to spoil my locks in this manner, Mr. Pump,” said the jailer, “I shall put a stopper, as you call it, on your legs, and tie you down to your bed.”
“What for should ye, master?” grumbled Benjamin;
“I’ve rode out one squall to-day anchored by the heels, and I wants no more of them.
Where’s the harm o’ doing all the same as yourself?
Leave that there door free out board, and you’ll find no locking inboard, I’ll promise ye.”
“I must shut up for the night at nine,” said the jailer, “and it’s now forty-two minutes past eight.”
He placed the little candle on a rough pine table, and withdrew.
“Leather-Stocking!” said Elizabeth, when the key of the door was turned on them again, “my good friend, Leather-Stocking!
I have come on a message of gratitude.
Had you submitted to the search, worthy old man, the death of the deer would have been a trifle, and all would have been well———”
“Submit to the sarch!” interrupted Natty, raising his face from resting on his knees, without rising from the corner where he had seated himself; “d’ye think gal, I would let such a varmint into my hut?
No, no—I wouldn’t have opened the door to your own sweet countenance then.
But they are welcome to search among the coals and ashes now; they’ll find only some such heap as is to be seen at every pot-ashery in the mountains.”
The old man dropped his face again on one hand, and seemed to be lost in melancholy.
“The hut can be rebuilt, and made better than before,” returned Miss Temple; “and it shall be my office to see it done, when your imprisonment is ended.”