When Leather-Stocking saw his enemy fairly under headway, as Benjamin would express it, he gave his attention to the right wing of the assailants.
It would have been easy for Kirby, with his powerful frame, to have seized the moment to scale the bastion, and, with his great strength, to have sent both of its defenders in pursuit of the veteran; but hostility appeared to be the passion that the wood-chopper indulged the least in at that moment, for, in a voice that was heard by the retreating left wing, he shouted:
“Hurrah well done, captain! keep it up! how he handles his bush-hook! he makes nothing of a sapling!” and such other encouraging exclamations to the flying veteran, until, overcome by mirth, the good-natured fellow seated himself on the ground, kicking the earth with delight, and giving vent to peal after peal of laughter.
Natty stood all this time in a menacing attitude, with his rifle pointed over the breastwork, watching with a quick and cautions eye the least movement of the assail ants.
The outcry unfortunately tempted the ungovernable curiosity of Hiram to take a peep from behind his cover at the state of the battle.
Though this evolution was performed with great caution, in protecting his front, he left, like many a better commander, his rear exposed to the attacks of his enemy.
Mr. Doolittle belonged physically to a class of his countrymen, to whom Nature has denied, in their formation, the use of curved lines.
Every thing about him was either straight or angular.
But his tailor was a woman who worked, like a regimental contractor, by a set of rules that gave the same configuration to the whole human species.
Consequently, when Mr. Doolittle leaned forward in the manner described, a loose drapery appeared behind the tree, at which the rifle of Natty was pointed with the quickness of lightning.
A less experienced man would have aimed at the flowing robe, which hung like a festoon half-way to the earth; but the Leather-Stocking knew both the man and his female tailor better; and when the smart report of the rifle was heard, Kirby, who watched the whole manoeuvre in breath less expectation, saw the bark fly from the beech and the cloth, at some distance above the loose folds, wave at the same instant.
No battery was ever unmasked with more promptitiude than Hiram advanced from behind the tree at this summons.
He made two or three steps, with great precision, to the front and, placing one hand on the afflicted part, stretched forth the other with a menacing air toward Natty, and cried aloud:
“Gawl darn ye: this shan’t he settled so easy; I’ll follow it up from the ‘common pleas’ to the ‘court of errors.’”
Such a shocking imprecation, from the mouth of so orderly a man as Squire Doolittle, with the fearless manner in which he exposed himself, together with, perhaps, the knowledge that Natty’s rifle was unloaded, encouraged the troops in the rear, who gave a loud shout, and fired a volley into the tree-tops, after the contents of the swivel.
Animated by their own noise, the men now rushed on in earnest; and Billy Kirby, who thought the joke, good as it was, had gone far enough, was in the act of scaling the works, when Judge Temple appeared on the opposite side, exclaiming:
“Silence and peace! why do I see murder and blood shed attempted?
Is not the law sufficient to protect itself, that armed bands must be gathered, as in rebellion and war, to see justice performed?”
“‘Tis the posse comitatus,” shouted the sheriff, from a distant rock, “who-”
“Say rather a posse of demons.
I command the peace.”
“Hold shied not blood!” cried a voice from the top of the Vision.
“Hold, for the sake of Heaven, fire no more! all shall be yielded! you shall enter the cave!”
Amazement produced the desired effect.
Natty, who had reloaded his piece, quietly seated himself on the logs, and rested his head on his hands, while the “Light Infantry” ceased their military movements, and waited the issue in suspense.
In less than a minute Edwards came rushing down the hill, followed by Major Hartman, with a velocity that was surprising for his years.
They reached the terrace in an instant, from which the youth led the way, by the hollow in the rock, to the mouth of the cave, into which they both entered, leaving all without silent, and gazing after them with astonishment.
CHAPTER XL.
“I am dumb.
Were you the doctor, and I knew you not?”
—Shakespeare.
During the five or six minutes that elapsed before the youth and Major reappeared. Judge Temple and the sheriff together with most of the volunteers, ascended to the terrace, where the latter began to express their conjectures of the result, and to recount their individual services in the conflict.
But the sight of the peace-makers ascending the ravine shut every mouth.
On a rude chair, covered with undressed deer-skins, they supported a human being, whom they seated carefully and respectfully in the midst of the assembly.
His head was covered by long, smooth locks of the color of snow. His dress, which was studiously neat and clean, was composed of such fabrics as none but the wealthiest classes wear, but was threadbare and patched; and on his feet were placed a pair of moccasins, ornamented in the best manner of Indian ingenuity.
The outlines of his face were grave and dignified, though his vacant eye, which opened and turned slowly to the faces of those around him in unmeaning looks, too surely’ announced that the period had arrived when age brings the mental imbecility of childhood.
Natty had followed the supporters of this unexpected object to the top of the cave, and took his station at a little distance behind him, leaning no his rifle, in the midst of his pursuers, with a fearlessness that showed that heavier interests than those which affected himself were to be decided.
Major Hartmann placed himself beside the aged man, uncovered, with his whole soul beaming through those eyes which so commonly danced with frolic and humor.
Edwards rested with one hand familiarly but affectionately on the chair, though his heart was swelling with emotions that denied him utterance.
All eyes were gazing intently, but each tongue continued mute.
At length the decrepit stranger, turning his vacant looks from face to face, made a feeble attempt to rise, while a faint smile crossed his wasted face, like an habitual effort at courtesy, as he said, in a hollow, tremulous voice:
“Be pleased to be seated, gentlemen.
The council will open immediately.
Each one who loves a good and virtuous king will wish to see these colonies continue loyal.
Be seated—I pray you, be seated, gentlemen.
The troops shall halt for the night.”
“This is the wandering of insanity!” said Marmaduke: “who will explain this scene.”
“No, sir,” said Edwards firmly, “‘tis only the decay of nature; who is answerable for its pitiful condition, remains to be shown.”
“Will the gentlemen dine with us, my son?” said the old stranger, turning to a voice that he both knew and loved.
“Order a repast suitable for his Majesty’s officers.