“Anan?” said the old man, who was pinching the ears of the hound, as a father would play with the same member in a favourite child.
“I incline not to this irregular mode of experimenting on fluids.
The vessel has neither form, nor proportions.”
“It is not as handsomely turned as I have seen a canoe in birchen bark, but comfort may be taken in a wigwam as well as in a palace.”
“It is impossible that any vessel constructed on principles so repugnant to science can be safe.
This tub, venerable hunter, will never reach the opposite shore in safety.”
“You are a witness of what it has done.”
“Ay; but it was an anomaly in prosperity.
If exceptions were to be taken as rules, in the government of things, the human race would speedily be plunged in the abysses of ignorance.
Venerable trapper, this expedient, in which you would repose your safety, is, in the annals of regular inventions, what a lusus naturae may be termed in the lists of natural history—a monster!”
How much longer Doctor Battius might have felt disposed to prolong the discourse, it is difficult to say, for in addition to the powerful personal considerations, which induced him to procrastinate an experiment which was certainly not without its dangers, the pride of reason was beginning to sustain him in the discussion.
But, fortunately for the credit of the old man’s forbearance, when the naturalist reached the word, with which he terminated his last speech, a sound arose in the air that seemed a sort of supernatural echo to the idea itself.
The young Pawnee, who had awaited the termination of the incomprehensible discussion, with grave and characteristic patience, raised his head, and listened to the unknown cry, like a stag, whose mysterious faculties had detected the footsteps of the distant hounds in the gale.
The trapper and the Doctor were not, however, entirely so uninstructed as to the nature of the extraordinary sounds.
The latter recognised in them the well-known voice of his own beast, and he was about to rush up the little bank, which confined the current, with all the longings of strong affection, when Asinus himself galloped into view, at no great distance, urged to the unnatural gait by the impatient and brutal Weucha, who bestrode him.
The eyes of the Teton, and those of the fugitives met.
The former raised a long, loud, and piercing yell, in which the notes of exultation were fearfully blended with those of warning.
The signal served for a finishing blow to the discussion on the merits of the bark, the Doctor stepping as promptly to the side of the old man, as if a mental mist had been miraculously removed from his eyes.
In another instant the steed of the young Pawnee was struggling with the torrent.
The utmost strength of the horse was needed to urge the fugitives, beyond the flight of arrows that came sailing through the air, at the next moment.
The cry of Weucha had brought fifty of his comrades to the shore, but fortunately among them all, there was not one of a rank sufficient to entitle him to the privilege of bearing a fusee.
One half the stream, however, was not passed, before the form of Mahtoree himself was seen on its bank, and an ineffectual discharge of firearms announced the rage and disappointment of the chief.
More than once the trapper had raised his rifle, as if about to try its power on his enemies, but he as often lowered it, without firing.
The eyes of the Pawnee warrior glared like those of the cougar, at the sight of so many of the hostile tribe, and he answered the impotent effort of their chief, by tossing a hand into the air in contempt, and raising the war-cry of his nation.
The challenge was too taunting to be endured.
The Tetons dashed into the stream in a body, and the river became dotted with the dark forms of beasts and riders.
There was now a fearful struggle for the friendly bank.
As the Dahcotahs advanced with beasts, which had not, like that of the Pawnee, expended their strength in former efforts, and as they moved unincumbered by any thing but their riders, the speed of the pursuers greatly outstripped that of the fugitives.
The trapper, who clearly comprehended the whole danger of their situation, calmly turned his eyes from the Tetons to his young Indian associate, in order to examine whether the resolution of the latter began to falter, as the former lessened the distance between them.
Instead of betraying fear, however, or any of that concern which might so readily have been excited by the peculiarity of his risk, the brow of the young warrior contracted to a look which indicated high and deadly hostility.
“Do you greatly value life, friend Doctor?” demanded the old man, with a sort of philosophical calmness, which made the question doubly appalling to his companion.
“Not for itself,” returned the naturalist, sipping some of the water of the river from the hollow of his hand, in order to clear his husky throat. “Not for itself, but exceedingly, inasmuch as natural history has so deep a stake in my existence.
Therefore—”
“Ay!” resumed the other, who mused too deeply to dissect the ideas of the Doctor with his usual sagacity, “‘tis in truth the history of natur’, and a base and craven feeling it is!
Now is life as precious to this young Pawnee, as to any governor in the States, and he might save it, or at least stand some chance of saving it, by letting us go down the stream; and yet you see he keeps his faith manfully, and like an Indian warrior.
For myself, I am old, and willing to take the fortune that the Lord may see fit to give, nor do I conceit that you are of much benefit to mankind; and it is a crying shame, if not a sin, that so fine a youth as this should lose his scalp for two beings so worthless as ourselves.
I am therefore disposed, provided that it shall prove agreeable to you, to tell the lad to make the best of his way, and to leave us to the mercy of the Tetons.”
“I repel the proposition, as repugnant to nature, and as treason to science!” exclaimed the alarmed naturalist. “Our progress is miraculous; and as this admirable invention moves with so wonderful a facility, a few more minutes will serve to bring us to land.”
The old man regarded him intently for an instant, and shaking his head he said—
“Lord, what a thing is fear! it transforms the creatur’s of the world and the craft of man, making that which is ugly, seemly in our eyes, and that which is beautiful, unsightly!
Lord, Lord, what a thing is fear!”
A termination was, however, put to the discussion, by the increasing interest of the chase.
The horses of the Dahcotahs had, by this time, gained the middle of the current, and their riders were already filling the air with yells of triumph.
At this moment Middleton and Paul who had led the females to a little thicket, appeared again on the margin of the stream, menacing their enemies with the rifle.
“Mount, mount,” shouted the trapper, the instant he beheld them; “mount and fly, if you value those who lean on you for help.
Mount, and leave us in the hands of the Lord.”
“Stoop your head, old trapper,” returned the voice of Paul, “down with ye both into your nest.
The Teton devil is in your line; down with your heads and make way for a Kentucky bullet.”
The old man turned his head, and saw that the eager Mahtoree, who preceded his party some distance, had brought himself nearly in a line with the bark and the bee-hunter, who stood perfectly ready to execute his hostile threat.
Bending his body low, the rifle was discharged, and the swift lead whizzed harmlessly past him, on its more distant errand.