“Am I a murderer—is this old man—this officer of the States,” pointing to the trapper and his newly discovered friend, both of whom by this time stood at his side, “is either of these likely to do the things you name?”
“What is it then you ask of me?” said Ellen, wringing her hands, in excessive doubt.
“The beast! nothing more nor less than the squatter’s hidden, ravenous, dangerous beast!”
“Excellent young woman,” commenced the young stranger, who had so lately joined himself to the party on the prairie—but his mouth was immediately stopped by a significant sign from the trapper, who whispered in his ear—
“Let the lad be our spokesman.
Natur’ will work in the bosom of the child, and we shall gain our object, in good time.”
“The whole truth is out, Ellen,” Paul continued, “and we have lined the squatter into his most secret misdoings.
We have come to right the wronged and to free the imprisoned; now, if you are the girl of a true heart, as I have always believed, so far from throwing straws in our way, you will join in the general swarming, and leave old Ishmael and his hive to the bees of his own breed.”
“I have sworn a solemn oath—”
“A compactum which is entered into through ignorance, or in duresse, is null in the sight of all good moralists,” cried the Doctor.
“Hush, hush,” again the trapper whispered; “leave it all to natur’ and the lad!”
“I have sworn in the sight and by the name of Him who is the founder and ruler of all that is good, whether it be in morals or in religion,” Ellen continued, “neither to reveal the contents of that tent, nor to help its prisoner to escape.
We are both solemnly, terribly, sworn; our lives perhaps have been the gift we received for the promises.
It is true you are masters of the secret, but not through any means of ours; nor do I know that I can justify myself, for even being neutral, while you attempt to invade the dwelling of my uncle in this hostile manner.”
“I can prove beyond the power of refutation,” the naturalist eagerly exclaimed, “by Paley, Berkeley, ay, even by the immortal Binkerschoek, that a compactum, concluded while one of the parties, be it a state or be it an individual, is in durance—”
“You will ruffle the temper of the child, with your abusive language,” said the cautious trapper, “while the lad, if left to human feelings, will bring her down to the meekness of a fawn.
Ah! you are like myself, little knowing in the natur’ of hidden kindnesses!”
“Is this the only vow you have taken, Ellen?” Paul continued in a tone which, for the gay, light-hearted bee-hunter, sounded dolorous and reproachful.
“Have you sworn only to this? are the words which the squatter says, to be as honey in your mouth, and all other promises like so much useless comb?”
The paleness, which had taken possession of the usually cheerful countenance of Ellen, was hid in a bright glow, that was plainly visible even at the distance at which she stood.
She hesitated a moment, as if struggling to repress something very like resentment, before she answered with all her native spirit—
“I know not what right any one has to question me about oaths and promises, which can only concern her who has made them, if, indeed, any of the sort you mention have ever been made at all.
I shall hold no further discourse with one who thinks so much of himself, and takes advice merely of his own feelings.”
“Now, old trapper, do you hear that!” said the unsophisticated bee-hunter, turning abruptly to his aged friend. “The meanest insect that skims the heavens, when it has got its load, flies straight and honestly to its nest or hive, according to its kind; but the ways of a woman’s mind are as knotty as a gnarled oak, and more crooked than the windings of the Mississippi!”
“Nay, nay, child,” said the trapper, good-naturedly interfering in behalf of the offending Paul, “you are to consider that youth is hasty, and not overgiven to thought.
But then a promise is a promise, and not to be thrown aside and forgotten, like the hoofs and horns of a buffaloe.”
“I thank you for reminding me of my oath,” said the still resentful Ellen, biting her pretty nether lip with vexation; “I might else have proved forgetful!”
“Ah! female natur’ is awakened in her,” said the old man, shaking his head in a manner to show how much he was disappointed in the result; “but it manifests itself against the true spirit!”
“Ellen!” cried the young stranger, who until now had been an attentive listener to the parley, “since Ellen is the name by which you are known—”
“They often add to it another. I am sometimes called by the name of my father.”
“Call her Nelly Wade at once,” muttered Paul; “it is her rightful name, and I care not if she keeps it for ever!”
“Wade, I should have added,” continued the youth. “You will acknowledge that, though bound by no oath myself, I at least have known how to respect those of others.
You are a witness yourself that I have forborne to utter a single call, while I am certain it could reach those ears it would gladden so much.
Permit me then to ascend the rock, singly; I promise a perfect indemnity to your kinsman, against any injury his effects may sustain.”
Ellen seemed to hesitate, but catching a glimpse of Paul, who stood leaning proudly on his rifle, whistling, with an appearance of the utmost indifference, the air of a boating song, she recovered her recollection in time to answer,—
“I have been left the captain of the rock, while my uncle and his sons hunt, and captain will I remain till he returns to receive back the charge.”
“This is wasting moments that will not soon return, and neglecting an opportunity that may never occur again,” the young soldier gravely remarked. “The sun is beginning to fall already, and many minutes cannot elapse before the squatter and his savage brood will be returning to their huts.”
Doctor Battius cast a glance behind him, and took up the discourse, by saying—
“Perfection is always found in maturity, whether it be in the animal or in the intellectual world.
Reflection is the mother of wisdom, and wisdom the parent of success.
I propose that we retire to a discreet distance from this impregnable position, and there hold a convocation, or council, to deliberate on what manner we may sit down regularly before the place; or, perhaps, by postponing the siege to another season, gain the aid of auxiliaries from the inhabited countries, and thus secure the dignity of the laws from any danger of a repulse.”
“A storm would be better,” the soldier smilingly answered, measuring the height and scanning all its difficulties with a deliberate eye; “‘twould be but a broken arm or a bruised head at the worst.”
“Then have at it!” shouted the impetuous bee-hunter, making a spring that at once put him out of danger from shot, by carrying him beneath the projecting ledge on which the garrison was posted; “now do your worst, young devils of a wicked breed; you have but a moment to work your mischief!”
“Paul! rash Paul!” shrieked Ellen; “another step and the rocks will crush you! they hang by but a thread, and these girls are ready and willing to let them fall!”
“Then drive the accursed swarm from the hive; for scale the rock I will, though I find it covered with hornets.”
“Let her if she dare!” tauntingly cried the eldest of the girls, brandishing a musket with a mien and resolution that would have done credit to her Amazonian dam. “I know you, Nelly Wade; you are with the lawyers in your heart, and if you come a foot nigher, you shall have frontier punishment.
Put in another pry, girls; in with it!
I should like to see the man, of them all, that dare come up into the camp of Ishmael Bush, without asking leave of his children!”
“Stir not, Paul; for your life keep beneath the rock!”
Ellen was interrupted by the same bright vision, which on the preceding day had stayed another scarcely less portentous tumult, by exhibiting itself on the same giddy height, where it was now seen.