The Hunters of the Hills by Joseph A. Altsheler (best books under 200 pages txt) 📗

He could recall the whole time, hour by hour, and he knew that he would never forget any part of it. The town was intense, glowing, vivid in the clear northern sunlight, and he had seen it, as he so often had longed to do. A quality in his nature had responded to it, but at the last his heart had turned against it. The splendor of that city into which he had enjoyed such a remarkable introduction had in it something hot and feverish.

"You're thinking a farewell to Quebec, Robert," said the hunter. "It looks grand and strong up there, but I've an idea there'll be a day when we'll come again."

"Americans and English have besieged it before," said Robert, "but they've never taken it."

"Which proves nothing, but we'll turn our minds now to our journey into the south. It's good to breathe this clean air again, and the sooner we reach the deep woods the better I'll like it. What say you, Tayoga?"

The nostrils of the Onondaga expanded, as he inhaled the odors of leaf and grass, borne on the gentle wind.

"I have lived in the white man's house in Albany," he said, "and in our own log house in the vale of Onondaga, and I know the English and the French have many things that the nations of the Hodenosaunee have not, but we can do without most of them. If the great chiefs were to drink and dance all night as Bigot and his friends do, then indeed would we cease to be the mighty League of the Hodenosaunee."

They traveled all that day on foot, but at a great pace, showing their safe conduct twice to French soldiers, and so thin was the line of settlements along the St. Lawrence that when night came they were beyond the cultivated fields and had entered the deep woods. The three, in addition to their weapons, carried on their backs packs containing blankets and food, and as Willet and Tayoga put them down they drew long breaths of relief like those of prisoners escaped.

"Home, Tayoga! Home!" said the hunter, joyfully. "I've nothing against cities in general, but I breathed some pretty foul air in Quebec, and it's sweet and clean here. There comes a time when you are glad no house crosses your view and you are with the world as it was made in the beginning. Don't these trees look splendid! Did you ever see a finer lot of tender young leaves? And the night sky you see up there has been washed and scrubbed until it's nothing but clean blue!"

"Why, you're only a boy, Dave, the youngest of us three," laughed Robert. "Here you are singing songs about leaves and trees just as if you were not the most terrible swordsman in the world."

A shadow crossed Willet's face, but it was quick in passing.

"Let's not talk about Boucher, Robert," he said. "I don't regret what I did, knowing that it saved the lives of others, but I won't recall it any oftener than I can help. You're right when you term me a boy, and I believe you're right, too, when you say I'm the youngest of the three. I'm so glad to be here that just now I'm not more'n fifteen years old. I could run, jump, laugh and sing. And I think the woods are a deal safer and friendlier than Quebec. There's nobody, at least not here, lying around seeking a chance to stick a rapier in your back."

He unbuckled his sword and laid it upon the grass. Robert put his beside it.

"I don't think we'll need to use 'em again for a long time," said the hunter, "but they're mighty fine as decorations, and sometimes a decoration is worth while. It impresses. Now, Tayoga, you kindle the fire, and Robert, you find a spring. It's pleasant to feel that you're again on land that belongs to nobody, and can do as you please."

Robert found a spring less than a hundred yards away, and Tayoga soon kindled a fire near it with his flint and steel, on which the hunter warmed their food. Each had a small tin cup from which he drank clear water as they ate, and Robert, elastic of temperament, rejoiced with the hunter.

"You are right, Dave," he said. "These are splendid trees, and every leaf on 'em is splendid, too, and the little spring I found is just about as fine a spring as the forest holds. I slept in a good bed at the Inn of the Eagle, but when I scrape up the dead leaves here, roll myself in my blanket and lie on 'em I think I'll sleep better than I did between four walls. What did you think of the Marquis Duquesne, Dave?"

"A man of parts, Robert. He has more military authority than any of our
Governors have, and if war comes he'll be a dangerous opponent."

"And it will come, Dave?"

"Looks like a certainty. You see, Robert, the King of France and the King of England sitting on their golden thrones, only three or four hundred miles apart, but three or four thousand miles from us, have a dyspeptic fit, make faces at each other, and here in the woods we must fall to fighting. Even Tayoga's people—and the King of France and the King of England are nothing to them—must be drawn into it."

"Both Kings claim the Ohio country, which they will never see, and of which they know nothing," said Tayoga, with a faint touch of sarcasm, "but perhaps it belongs to the people who live in it."

"Maybe so, Tayoga! Maybe!" said Willet briskly, "but we'll not look for trouble or unpleasant thoughts now. We three are too glad to be in the woods again. Tayoga, suppose you scout about and see that no enemy's near. Then we'll build up the fire, till it's burning bright, and rejoice."

"It is well!" said Tayoga, as he slipped away among the trees, making no sound as he went. Robert meanwhile gathered dead wood which lay everywhere in abundance, and heaped it beside the fire ready for use. But as Tayoga was gone some time he sat down again with his back to a tree, taking long deep breaths of the cool fresh air, and feeling his pulses leap. The hunter sat in a similar position, gazing meditatively into the fire. Robert heard a rattling of bark over his head, but he knew that it was a squirrel scuttling up the trunk of the tree, and pausing now and then to examine the strange invaders of his forest.

"Do you see the squirrel, Dave?" he asked.

"Yes, he's about twenty feet above you now, sitting in a fork. He's a fine big fellow with a bushy tail curved so far over his back that it nearly touches his head. He has little red eyes and he's just burning up with curiosity. The firelight falls on him in such a way that I can see. Perhaps he has never seen a man before. Now he's looking at you, Robert, trying to decide what kind of an animal you are, and forming an estimate of your character and disposition."

"You're developing your imagination, Dave, but since I saw what you said and did in Quebec I'm not surprised."

"Encouraged by your motionless state he's left the fork, and come a half dozen feet down the trunk in order to get a better look at you. I think he likes you, Robert. He lies flattened against the bark, and if I had not seen him descending I would not notice him now, but the glow of the coals still enables me to make out his blazing little red eyes like sparks of fire. Now he is looking at me, and I don't think he has as much confidence in my harmlessness as he has in yours. Perhaps it's because he sees my eyes are upon him and he doesn't like to be watched. He's a saucy little fellow. Sit still, Robert! I see a black shadow over your head, and I think our little friend, the squirrel, should look out. Ah, there he goes! Missed! And our handsome young friend, the gray squirrel, is safe! He has scuttled into his hole higher up the tree!"

Robert had heard a rush of wings and he had seen a long black shadow pass.

"What was it, Dave?" he asked.

"A great horned owl. His iron beak missed our little squirrel friend just about three inches. Those three inches were enough, but I don't think that squirrel will very soon again stay out at night so late. The woods are beautiful, Robert, but you see they're not always safe even for those who can't live anywhere else."

"I know, Dave, but I'm not going to think about it tonight, because I've made up my mind to be happy. Here comes Tayoga. Is any enemy near, Tayoga?"

"None," replied the Onondaga, sitting down by the fire. "But the forest is full of its own people, and they are all very curious about us."

"That's true," said Willet, "a squirrel over Robert's head was so inquisitive that he forgot his vigilance for a few moments and came near losing his life as the price of his carelessness. I'm not surprised to hear you say, Tayoga, they're all looking at us. I've felt for some time that we're being watched, admired and perhaps a little feared. It's a tribute to the enormously interesting qualities of us three."

"That is, Dave, because we're human beings we're kings in the forest among the animals."

"You put it right, Robert. They look up to us. Is anything watching us among the leaves near by, Tayoga?"

"A huge bald-headed eagle, Great Bear, is sitting on a bough in the center of a mass of green leaves. He is looking at us, and while he is full of curiosity and some admiration he fears and hates us more."

"What is he saying to himself, Tayoga?"

"You can read his words to himself by the look in his eyes. He is saying that he does not like our appearance, that we are too large, that we have created here something hot and flaming, that we behave with too much assurance, going about just as if the forest was ours, and paying no attention to its rightful owners."

"He has got a grievance, and perhaps it's a just one," laughed Robert.

"No, it is not," said Tayoga, "because there is plenty of room in the forest for him and for us, too. I can read his eyes quite well. There is much malice and anger in his heart, and I will give him some cause for rage."

He picked up a live coal between the ends of two sticks, and holding it firmly in that manner, walked a little distance among the trees. Then swinging the sticks he hurled the coal far up among the boughs. There was an angry screech and whirr and Robert saw a swift shadow passing between his eyes and the sky.

"His heart can burn more than ever now," laughed Tayoga, as he returned to the fire.

"You've hurt his dignity, Tayoga," said Robert.

"So I have, but why should he not suffer a loss of pride? He is ruthless and cruel and when he has his way he makes desolation about him."

"What else is watching us, Tayoga?"

"A beast upon the ground, and his heart is much like that of the eagle in the air. He is crouched in a thicket about twenty yards away, and his lips are drawn back from his sharp fangs. His nostrils twitch with the odor of our food, and his yellow eyes are staring at us. Oh, he hates us because he hates everything except his own kind and very often he hates that. He wants our food because he's hungry—he's always hungry—and he would try to eat us too if he were not so much afraid of us."

"Tayoga, one needs only a single glance to tell that this animal you're talking about is a wolf."

"It is so, Dagaeoga. A very hungry and a very angry wolf. He is cunning, but he does not know everything. He thinks we do not see him, that we do not know he is there and that maybe, after awhile, when we go to sleep, he can slip up and steal our food, or perhaps he can bring many of his brothers, and they can eat us before we awake. Now, I will tell him in a language he can understand that it's time for