“And how, dearest father, didst thou encounter this dreadful evil?” said Elizabeth, unconsciously adopting the dialect of her parent in the warmth of her sympathy.
“Upon thee must have fallen the responsibility, if not the suffering.”
“It did, Elizabeth,” returned the Judge, pausing for a single moment, as if musing on his former feelings.
“I had hundreds at that dreadful time daily looking up to me for bread.
The sufferings of their families and the gloomy prospect before them had paralyzed the enterprise and efforts of my settlers; hunger drove them to the woods for food, but despair sent them at night, enfeebled and wan, to a sleepless pillow.
It was not a moment for in action.
I purchased cargoes of wheat from the granaries of Pennsylvania; they were landed at Albany and brought up the Mohawk in boats; from thence it was transported on pack-horses into the wilderness and distributed among my people.
Seines were made, and the lakes and rivers were dragged for fish.
Something like a miracle was wrought in our favor, for enormous shoals of herrings were discovered to have wandered five hundred miles through the windings of the impetuous Susquehanna, and the lake was alive with their numbers.
These were at length caught and dealt out to the people, with proper portions of salt, and from that moment we again began to prosper.”
“Yes,” cried Richard, “and I was the man who served out the fish and salt.
When the poor devils came to receive their rations, Benjamin, who was my deputy, was obliged to keep them off by stretching ropes around me, for they smelt so of garlic, from eating nothing but the wild onion, that the fumes put me out often in my measurement.
You were a child then, Bess, and knew nothing of the matter, for great care was observed to keep both you and your mother from suffering.
That year put me back dreadfully, both in the breed of my hogs and of my turkeys.”
“No, Bess,” cried the Judge, in a more cheerful tone, disregarding the interruption of his cousin, “he who hears of the settlement of a country knows but little of the toil and suffering by which it is accomplished.
Unimproved and wild as this district now seems to your eyes, what was it when I first entered the hills?
I left my party, the morning of my arrival, near the farms of the Cherry Valley, and, following a deer-path, rode to the summit of the mountain that I have since called Mount Vision; for the sight that there met my eyes seemed to me as the deceptions of a dream.
The fire had run over the pinnacle, and in a great measure laid open the view.
The leaves were fallen, and I mounted a tree and sat for an hour looking on the silent wilderness.
Not an opening was to be seen in the boundless forest except where the lake lay, like a mirror of glass. The water was covered by myriads of the wild-fowl that migrate with the changes in the season; and while in my situation on the branch of the beech, I saw a bear, with her cubs, descend to the shore to drink.
I had met many deer, gliding through the woods, in my journey; but not the vestige of a man could I trace during my progress, nor from my elevated observatory.
No clearing, no hut, none of the winding roads that are now to be seen, were there; nothing but mountains rising behind mountains; and the valley, with its surface of branches enlivened here and there with the faded foliage of some tree that parted from its leaves with more than ordinary reluctance.
Even the Susquehanna was then hid by the height and density of the forest.”
“And were you alone?” asked Elizabeth: “passed you the night in that solitary state?”
“Not so, my child,” returned the father.
“After musing on the scene for an hour, with a mingled feeling of pleasure and desolation, I left my perch and descended the mountain.
My horse was left to browse on the twigs that grew within his reach, while I explored the shores of the lake and the spot where Templeton stands.
A pine of more than ordinary growth stood where my dwelling is now placed!
A wind—row had been opened through the trees from thence to the lake, and my view was but little impeded.
Under the branches of that tree I made my solitary dinner.
I had just finished my repast as I saw smoke curling from under the mountain, near the eastern bank of the lake.
It was the only indication of the vicinity of man that I had then seen.
After much toil I made my way to the spot, and found a rough cabin of logs, built against the foot of a rock, and bearing the marks of a tenant, though I found no one within it—”
“It was the hut of Leather-Stocking,” said Edwards quickly.
“It was; though I at first supposed it to be a habitation of the Indians.
But while I was lingering around the spot Natty made his appearance, staggering under the carcass of a buck that he had slain.
Our acquaintance commenced at that time; before, I had never heard that such a being tenanted the woods.
He launched his bark canoe and set me across the foot of the lake to the place where I had fastened my horse, and pointed out a spot where he might get a scanty browsing until the morning; when I returned and passed the night in the cabin of the hunter.”
Miss Temple was so much struck by the deep attention of young Edwards during this speech that she forgot to resume her interrogations; but the youth himself continued the discourse by asking:
“And how did the Leather-Stocking discharge the duties of a host sir?”
“Why, simply but kindly, until late in the evening, when he discovered my name and object, and the cordiality of his manner very sensibly diminished, or, I might better say, disappeared.
He considered the introduction of the settlers as an innovation on his rights, I believe for he expressed much dissatisfaction at the measure, though it was in his confused and ambiguous manner.
I hardly understood his objections myself, but supposed they referred chiefly to an interruption of the hunting.”
“Had you then purchased the estate, or were you examining it with an intent to buy?” asked Edwards, a little abruptly.
“It had been mine for several years.
It was with a view to People the land that I visited the lake.
Natty treated me hospitably, but coldly, I thought, after he learned the nature of my journey. I slept on his own bear—skin, however, and in the morning joined my surveyors again.”
“Said he nothing of the Indian rights, sir?
The Leather-Stocking is much given to impeach the justice of the tenure by which the whites hold the country.”
“I remember that he spoke of them, but I did not nearly comprehend him, and may have forgotten what he said; for the Indian title was extinguished so far back as the close of the old war, and if it had not been at all, I hold under the patents of the Royal Governors, confirmed by an act of our own State Legislature, and no court in the country can affect my title.”