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from The Boston Globe,
THE PIONEERSBY JAMES FENNIMORE COOPER
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Cooper called "The Pioneers" a descriptive tale, and a lot of good descriptive work did he put into it. But it has, also, a vast amount of action in it; and, as in writing it, Cooper was dealing with scenes with which he had been familiar from boyhood, and with the tradition of his family and his family estate of Cooperstown, he made it, for many people, the most interesting of his famous "Leather-Stocking tales" — as it was the first of them. The character of Leather-Stocking was such a success that Cooper afterward took up his creation as a young man and carried him through many adventures, until finally he let him die in "The Prairie." Most of the characters in "The Pioneers" are fictitious, and Natty Bumppo was, of course, only a child of the author's brain. But some of the main personages in the story have been traced to real people, and the character of Judge Temple is supposed to have been drawn from Cooper's grandfather. |
A Test of Marksmanship.
"HOLD up there, Aggy!" cried Judge Marmaduke Temple to the aged black driver of the sleigh in which the Judge was seated with his daughter, the blooming Elizabeth, just fresh from boarding school in New York — "hold up. And Bess, if you can stand fire, I will give you a saddle of venison for your Christmas dinner."
The judge let go first one barrel and then the other of his shotgun at a deer which had sprung out into the open. The deer did not seem to mind, but instantly there came the sound of a rifle and the deer fell dead, as an aged hunter, clad in buckskins, stepped out from behind a tree.
It was the celebrated trapper, hunter and guide, Natty Bumppo, otherwise known as Leather-Stocking. Following him was a young man of 23 or 24 years of age, dressed like the hunter, but of a manner and beating which showed that he had not, like his companion, been bred to the woods, and a complexion which showed that he had not been long exposed to the rigors of an out-of-door life.
By Whose Shot?
"Ha, Natty," cried the judge, "that was a good shot of mine. I heard your dog, old Hector, baying and knew he was on the trail of a deer. Had I known you were in ambush I would not have fired."
"Do you think you killed the deer?" asked Leather-Stocking surlily.
"Why, yes. One of my barrels was loaded with birdshot, it is true, but the other was loaded with buckshot — that caught him."
They stood beside the fallen animal and Leather-Stocking said: "Here is a wound in the neck where the charge of birdshot hit and mangled the flesh. Here is a shot through the heart where the bullet from my rifle entered. How many buckshot did you have in your gun?"
"Five; where are they?" exclaimed the Judge.
"Here in this tree," responded the young companion of the trapper, "you can see the marks of four of them. I was partly behind this tree when you fired."
Assistance Declined.
"But where is the fifth?"
"Here," replied the young man, throwing open him hunting shirt, and showing a wound in his right shoulder.
"You are hurt," exclaimed the judge, his entire manner changing to one of concern. "Pray, pray get into the sleigh and let me take you to the village where medical assistance can be procured."
The young lady had alighted from the sleigh and stood beside her father.
"I thank you, Judge Temple," said the young man coldly, "but I cannot accept your offer. The wound is trifling. I will go to the hut of Leather-Stocking and have my hurt dressed there."
"Surely," said the young lady, "you will not be ungenerous enough to refuse to allow my father to do all that is within his power to atone for an unintentional wrong? I add my request to his that you at once enter the sleigh and let us take you to the village."
Conquered by Voice and Eyes.
So muffled up was the judge's daughter on that bitterly cold day before Christmas that the young man could see nothing of her features except a pair of remarkably fine eyes looking out through the mask which fell over her face from her quilted hood.
But her voice added to the eves seemed to command him at once and he gazed earnestly at her as he replied:
"Judge. I accept your offer. Natty you will say nothing of what has happened to me — nor of where I am going."
This scene took place shortly after the War of the Revolution on a mountain road which ran through that 200,000 acres of land which was known as the Temple Patent in what is now Otsego County, New York, and which was then on the extreme verge of civilization.
Getting Around the Law.
Marmaduke Temple was born in Pennsylvania and, as a young man, was the intimate friend of Edward Effingham, son of a retired major of the British Army who had settled down in the colonies where he had so long seen service and had further given his large grants of land and his large personal property to his son, confident that son would support him well in his old age.
When the war came Edward Effingham took sides with the crown and when the war was over repaired to England to prosecute certain claims against the British Government. But before the war, when war had become inevitable, he had transferred to his friend, Marmaduke Temple, all his American possessions — for Marmaduke had taken the side of the Colonies.
This was not an uncommon trick in those troubled days and seems to have been considered quite legitimate and honorable. And successful, too, it was, if the friend of the winning side did not prove faithless.
Two Mysteries.
Thus It was that the Effingham Patent became the Temple Patent and Marmaduke was out to steal it and improve it — to turn the wilderness into a flourishing agricultural region.
In this he was rapidly succeeding — much to the disgust of the old hunter, Leather-Stocking, and old Indian John, Natty's constant companion, when our story opens.
The younger companion of Bumppo gave his name as Oliver Edwards; he had but recently come to live with Leather-Stocking in the latter's hut across the lake from the village some three miles from Templeton, the village which Marmaduke had established in the valley.
And there was a mystery about that young man and about the hut of Natty Bumppo also.
Recently no one had been allowed to enter the hut, the door of which had heretofore, been hospitably open; and it was rumored that Edwards was a half-breed — for Indian John always spoke of him as Young Eagle and made allusions to his being of the race of the Delawares.
On the Mountain Road.
The Judge took the injured Edwards to his manorial house — a large, square, stone structure of ugly proportions which dominated the settlement, but did not get him there without another adventure.
For, going down the mountain road, the sleigh of the judge met another sleigh — a large one drawn by four horses — coming up the hill to meet him.
In it were the Judge's cousin — an eccentric person named Richard Jones, who was possessed of an idea that he could do everything and do it well, and was the judge's factotum — and three other gentlemen.
One of the others was Mr Grant, the clergyman who looked after the spiritual needs of the settlement; one was a French refugee, M Le Quoi, who had opened a shop in the village, and the other Maj Hartman, a German, who had drifted out to the New World during the war, and stayed here. He was on his annual Christmas visit to the judge.
These last two men are mere adjuncts to the story, but Mr Grant has a deeper interest. For Mr Grant had one fair daughter and no other child.
A Hero.
Richard, in trying to turn his horses, got them all mixed up and frightened, so that his sleigh and all in it would have been dashed over a precipice to death had not Edwards sprung from the Judge's sleigh and, in spite of his wounded shoulder, grasped the leaders by the bits, and brought them to order and the sleigh to safety.
It was a close call — almost half of the sleigh hung over the brow of the precipice when Edwards seized the horses. The unknown young man had saved the life of the Rev Mr Grant, and so, when the occupants of both sleighs arrived at last in safety in the great ball of the manor house with its warmth and its lights, it was not surprising that the youth's natural attractions were added to in the eyes of the clergyman's daughter, the gentle Louisa, who had come to welcome home her, old playmate, Elizabeth.
Diana of the Frontier.
The frontier doctor, whose education was as unfinished as the settlement in which he practiced, and whose skill was as crude as the civilization around him, having been hastily summoned, came into the hall and found his patient standing apart and almost unnoticed, while he gazed with earnest eyes at Elizabeth who, having laid aside her heavy wraps, now stood in her riding habit of blue laced with gold — a beautiful girl — a stately girl — a veritable Diana of the frontier.
She shot every now and then sympathetic glances at Edwards — but did not speak. She breathed a sigh of relief when at length, the doctor entered.
"I fear we have too long delayed, doctor. The young man should have been taken to you at once." She left the room, followed by Louisa.
Did those two young ladies talk of anything except the handsome stranger when they were alone? They did not. They tried to talk of a thousand or so things — but always ended in talking of Oliver Edwards.
As the Judge's Secretary.
The wound was a flesh wound; the shot was easily extracted and before the operation was finished appeared Indian John and Leather-Stocking, anxious as to the welfare of the patient.
They were admitted to the hall, where the whole party were now assembled. Then said the judge: "Young man, I see that you are not bred to the forest. I am in want of a secretary — will you accept the position? You shall name your own salary, stay as long as you like, leave when you like. Come, I have done you an injury let me do you a kindness."
Leather-Stocking and Indian John became agitated at this remark and began to protest The young man could not leave the forest.
Edwards himself, at first, started to reject, with some haughtiness, the judge's offer. But he looked upon Elizabeth. Elizabeth smiled — and he accepted!
The Way of a Maid.
Leather-Stocking and Indian John returned to the forest and from that time on Edwards was a member of the judge's household — a faithful, efficient secretary. And every day he visited the hut of Natty Bumppo.
"Really," said Elizabeth to her father with an affected air of contempt the morning after he had engaged the new secretary; "So we 'are to have a half-breed as a member of the household. I only hope that some day he will not revert to his savagery and go off on the war path decorated with all my best earrings."
As time went on, Elizabeth was capricious in her treatment of Edwards. Sometimes she treated him with most kindly condescension — then she would ignore him. Always she seemed. to say to him, "Keep your distance."
And he did, though many were the ingenious ways in which he sought to be of service to her and the arts he practiced to be in her company.
Losing Her Heart.
Louisa Grant, on the other hand, treated Edwards always with the greatest kindness, and as an equal. Had there been many women about the manor house the true state of Louisa's heart might have been suspected.
But Mr Grant, like the judge, was a widower, and that grim old woman, Remarkable Pettibone, who acted as housekeeper for the judge, was too aciduous and unsympathetic to observe such frivolous matters.
Perhaps Elizabeth suspected. If so, she never betrayed herself.
When the long Winter had passed and the slow-arriving Spring had come, the people of the manor house, and with them Louisa Grant, were out riding upon one of the mountain roads. Suddenly a noise was heard up the mountain side — a strange noise to one who has never heard it.
It was an old tree, decayed at the roots and loosened by the thawing of the soil around it, which made the noise. A tree trunk came bounding down the mountain side, sweeping everything before it.
"A tree! A tree!" shouted Edwards, and "A tree! A tree!" echoed the others, and spurred on their horses to escape from the path of the descending mass.
Only Louisa, overcome by her natural timidity, put her hands to her face and remained immovable. Edwards rushed his horse to her aid and forced the animal and its rider out of the dangerous zone.
Then Louisa fainted and would have fallen from her horse had not Edwards caught her in is arms. When she had recovered herself she said: "Mr Edwards, now both father and daughter owe their lives to you."
"It was a narrow escape you had, Louisa," said Miss Temple, to her friend that evening when the two were alone.
"Yes," replied the guileless Louisa, "and did you see the expression on the face of Mr Edwards when — when I came to myself?"
"Really, Miss Grant," replied Elizabeth coldly, "I am no reader or interpreter of expressions."
Doomed to Single Blessedness.
Louisa was silent for a minute and then said timidly: "Elizabeth — did — did you ever think of marriage?"
"Of course I have," was the reply, "but not as silly school girls who read novels think of it. I have always regarded it as a mere possibility. Of late I have given the matter no consideration, whatever.
"Why should I? I am virtually a nun here in the wilderness — there is no one here of sufficient social standing to be my husband — and here I shall remain, probably for many years until I am such an old maid that it would be ridiculous for me to even think of matrimony. But you, Louisa, you are, pardon me, differently situated."
To the surprise of Elizabeth Louisa showed some spirit and replied: "The daughter of a clergyman — the daughter of a servant of the King of Kings — is as well born as — as —" and here she broke down and began to cry, while Elizabeth comforted her and asked pardon for her rudeness.
The Letter From London.
Next day, by the post, which, at intervals, penetrated into the settlement came a letter for Judge Temple — a foreign letter with a London postmark.
When he read it he became strangely agitated and called at once for cousin Richard. When Richard read the letter he, too, became very grave and said "Well, so the ship was lost. Well, there is one comfort. He received your last letter before he sailed. He knew."
"Yes, but all our labors — all our plans!" replied the Judge.
"It is as God wills," replied Richard solemnly.
After a period of silence and thought — "Send the schoolmaster, Van Dirk, to me," said the Judge; "and bring out all the papers."
In a short time Van Dirk, Richard and the judge were closeted together in a long conference. There was much writing and poring over papers, said the servants, who cam to bring in the candles, and this set the whole household to wondering "what was up."
Keeping a Secret.
Edwards in whose keeping heretofore had, as he thought, been all his employer's papers, came in from a trip to Bumppo's shanty, and at once went to offer his services to the judge.
"No," replied Temple, "this is a matter in which I care not to trust a stranger. For, though you have served me faithfully, yet, even now, you are a stranger to me.
"I appreciate your offer. but only my cousin, Van Dirk and myself are now possessed of a secret which it is not time yet to share with the world."
"Judge Temple!" exclaimed the young man.
"Nay, be not offended," replied the judge; "do not think I do not trust you. You shall know all — in time — in time."
With a laudable and natural feminine curiosity Elizabeth sought to approach her father upon the subject of the foreign letter and his subsequent conference with Richard and Van Dirk. But the judge repulsed her with a sternness which before that he had never shown to his only child.
At Leather-Stocking's Hut.
The household forgot the incident in two weeks, but from the time of the arrival of that letter Judge Temple seemed to be a sterner, graver, a less ambitious man. So did Richard — though the appointment of sheriff of the county brightened him up a bit a month later.
Midsummer came with its fierce heats and one day Elizabeth and Louisa went for a long walk in the woods accompanied only by Elizabeth's pet mastiff Brave, who, Bess thought, would be sufficient guard against any dangers of the forest.
They came in sight of the hut of Leather-Stocking, and Elizabeth said, laughing, "I would give all my other secrets to know what those rude logs have heard and witnessed."
"I am sure they would tell nothing to the disadvantage of Mr Edwards," replied Louisa.
"Perhaps not — but they might tell who he is," answered Bess.
"Why, my dear. Miss Temple, we know that already."
"Do we?"
"Yes; your cousin says —"
Cousin Richard's Theory.
"O, yes, Cousin Richard! He has a theory for everything. Well, what does he say?"
"He says that Natty Bumppo has lived most of his life in the forest and among the Indians, by which means he has formed the acquaintance of the Indian John, the old Delaware chief.
"This I overheard. It was a conversation between the sheriff and your father so late as the last time they met.
"And the sheriff added that the Kings of England used to keep gentlemen as agents among the different tribes, and sometimes officers of the Army spent their whole lives among the natives.
"He said that these agents seldom married — and — and —— They must have been wicked men, Elizabeth — but he said so."
"Never mind — skip that," said Elizabeth, blushing slightly.
"Well, then, he said that these agents frequently took great pride in the education of their children, whom they often sent to England for their schooling: and in this way he accounts for the liberal manner in which Mr Edwards has been taught — for he acknowledges that Mr Edwards knows almost as much as my father, or your father — or even himself."
"Quite a climax in learning," laughed Elizabeth; "and so Indian John is the grand uncle or grandfather of Oliver Edwards?"
"You have heard Indian John himself speak of a relationship," simply replied Louisa.
In Gravest Peril.
They had now passed the hut and were in a small clearing. Suddenly Brave gave a low growl and his hair bristled on his back as he took his stand before his mistress. "What does he see?" asked Elizabeth, and turned to see Louisa standing, the color of death upon her face, pointing to a tree to the branches of which clung a female panther with its eyes glaring, fixed upon them in a horrid malignity.
"Let us fly!" cried Elizabeth, grasping the arm of Louisa, whose form yielded and sank like melting snow until she lay insensible at the feet of her companion.
There was not a single feeling in Elizabeth which could prompt her to leave a companion in such an extremity.
She fell on her knees beside the insensible Louisa and, tearing from her friend with instinctive readiness such portions of her clothing as might effect her respiration, cried out: "Courage, Brave, Courage!"
Saved by Natty Bumppo.
The panther made a leap and encountered Brave. The struggle between the mastiff and the panther was a fierce one, but Brave was old and finally the dog rolled on its back and expired while the panther, though much mangled and near death itself, crouched for a spring at Elizabeth.
But before the enraged animal could make its final leap there came the sound of a rifle and a bullet pierced its heart. And the next instant Natty Bumppo stood before Elizabeth and the reviving Louisa.
We shall leave the reader to imagine the thanks — hysterical on the part of Louisa and fervent on the part of Elizabeth — which were showered upon Leather-Stocking.
"Well, well, never mind," said Natty, "we will talk this over another time. Let us get into the road, for you have had terror enough to wish yourself in your father's house."
Curiosity Repelled.
When Elizabeth told her father of her adventure in the woods, fervently did he thank God for the escape of his child from a horrible death and great was his gratitude to Leather-Stocking.
There was nothing that he would not do to benefit the old hunter. He would build him a new house: he would see that he lived in comfort for the rest of his days.
But, alas, before the Judge could carry out his benevolent intentions Natty Bumppo, or Leather-Stocking, was in jail.
He had killed a deer out of season. A meddlesome constable, who had long wished to gain entrance in Natty's hut out of pure curiosity, had almost caught the hunter in his lawless act — and the judge was enforcing the game laws now severely.
The constable had sworn out a search warrant and had tried to enter Natty's huts to find the body of the deer. He had been driven out by Leather-Stocking — he had been threatened by that unerring rifle.
Sound Feminine Logic.
The constable recruited his forces and returned the next day to find the hut a heap of smoldering ruins and Natty surrendered to the law. All this took place within two days after Natty had saved the life of Elizabeth.
Judge Temple was deeply pained; but felt that he must subordinate his personal feelings to his duty as a magistrate.
Elizabeth declared that she did not care what Natty had done or had not done — it was a shame that he should be arrested. There were plenty of deer in the woods, the constable had no right to go to Natty's house — and was a horrid old busybody anyway.
Acting upon this sound feminine logic, she went with Louisa Grant one evening, just before dark, to see Natty in his jail — a log prison house from which escape was not inordinately difficult.
Escape Arranged.
When the jailer had left the two girls alone with Natty, Elizabeth offered him money and expressed in no measured terms her indignation that he should be in such a situation. Natty refused the money, but said:
"I believe I can trust you gals. You hear those horns scraping against the outside of the jail? That is a pair of steers drawing a cart loaded with straw. Mr Edwards is with them. He has arranged it and got word to me.
"I am about to escape. He and I, between us, have made a hole in the wall, so that the logs can be pushed out any moment.
"Now, if you really want to do me a favor, just go to the Frenchman's and buy me a canister of that powder of his. It is the best in the settlement and I am all out of powder. Meet me with it on the top of Mt Venison just about noon tomorrow. Now I must go."
"Stop!" cried Elizabeth; "I will bring you the powder. But you must not escape while the judge's daughter is looking at you. Wait a moment."
Preserving the Conventionalities.
And thus, saving the conventionalities of her father's position, she and Louisa left the jail. Not long after there was a hue and cry in the settlement.
"Jail-break! Jail-break!" was shouted on all sides and the villagers, forming themselves into posse, commitatus, set out after the fugitives — while Elizabeth and Louisa at their sewing in the manorial hall were apparently uninterested and looked, if possible, more innocent than usual.
They did not catch Natty that night Edwards had got him through the village hidden in the straw of the cart, and both or them were now in the mountain wilderness.
Early the next day Elizabeth went to the Frenchman's store and, when M Le Quoi was otherwise engaged with another customer, she craftily bought the can of powder from his boy assistant.
Then, some time before noon, she started for the hill across the lake which her father had named Mt Venison. Louisa was with her, but as they came to the bridge which spanned the stream which fed the lake Louisa said:
"O, I can go no further. I am afraid. The last time we went into the woods — that fearful panther — I cannot go."
"Then wait for me here," said Elizabeth and walked on.
The Snub Direct.
Just before she reached the verge of the forest she encountered Edwards.
"Miss Temple," said he, "you are going, into the forest. It is not safe for you to go alone. Permit me to act as your escort. Your father would not like that you should venture alone into these mountains."
"Did my father commission Mr Edwards to act as my escort?"
"No, but —"
"It is enough, Mr Edwards. I need no escort. I thank you, but have no need of or desire for your company."
So on she went alone, leaving Edwards standing there — snubbed.
If Edwards felt, for a moment, as if he would like to take the capricious girl by the shoulders and shake her he soon subdued that feeling and, after a while, followed her secretly at a distance.
At noon Elizabeth came to the top of Mt Venison. But there was no Leather-Stocking there to meet her. She sat down and gazed out over the valley.
Indian John's Lament.
At length she heard a rustling in the bushes and old Indian John stood beside her.
"Daughter," said the old man, "look out over this valley to where the wigwam of your father stands. John was young when the Delawares in council gave this land to the Fire-eater. They gave it to him because they were feeble and he and his were strong and he helped them.
"I have seen these lands pass away from the Fire-eater and his son and his son's son. It has been torn from the children of the Fire-eater, even as the scalp is torn from the head of an enemy."
Elizabeth vaguely comprehended that by the "Fire-eater" he meant old Maj Effingham, to whom the Indians had ceded the tract now known as the Temple Patent.
"But you hardly understand our laws and customs," replied the girl; "do not believe evil of my father, for he is just and good."
"Yes, yes, I think he will do right. I have said it to Young Eagle."
Her Secret Surprised.
"Whom do you call Young Eagle?" said Elizabeth, averting her face from the gaze of the chief; "whence comes he and what are his rights?"
"Has my daughter lived so long with him and asks this question?" replied the old man. "Old age freezes the blood. but youth keeps the streams open like the sun in the time of blossoms. The Young Eagle has eyes — has he no tongue?" She knew, well enough, that the chief was speaking of Oliver Edwards when he said Young Eagle — many a time had she heard old Indian John so call the stranger youth.
"Well," she faltered, "he has not made me the confidant of his secrets, John. He is too much of a Delaware to tell his secrets to a woman. Where is the Leather-Stocking, John?"
She thought that the Indian had been referring to some supposed rights that Edwards had over the patent because of his Indian blood and did not care to continue the conversation on those lines.
Besides, the keen looks which the chief darted at her seemed to surprise a secret in her heart of which she herself was but half aware.
In the Blazing Forest.
At that moment an intense volume of smoke rolled over their heads. Miss Temple sprang to her feet and looked at the back of the mountain.
The woods were on fire! A roaring sound was heard in the depths of the forest like the rushing of mighty winds.
The Indian put his hands to his mouth and produced the peculiar call of his tribe. A quick and hurried step was heard dashing through the dry underbrush and Edwards rushed to her side with horror on every feature.
"Away," he cried, "even now we may be too late."
The Indian pointed to Elizabeth and said: "Save her — leave John to die."
"Take my arm," cried Edwards to Elizabeth; "are you equal to the effort?"
"Yes," she replied, "but do not leave that old Man to die."
"O, he will be all right," said Edwards; "an Indian can extricate himself from such a situation as this. Come, hurry."
A Place of Refuge.
Elizabeth refused to leave the old Indian. Edwards argued in vain with the savage. John said that his time had come and that there he would stay and meet his death.
"When an Indian has that look in his eyes," said Edwards, "it is useless to argue with him. He means to die and die he will. Come, hurry."
The danger came nearer and nearer — the flames, lapping up the trees, could now be seen all around them, and a blazing furnace rushed upon them.
The Indian refused to move. Edwards caught up the old man and, making of the blanket which he wore a sort of sling, threw him over his shoulder as one would a big burden.
With his disengaged hand he grabbed the arm of Elizabeth and hurried her by a path which he knew to a place of safety. Through flame and smoke he brought them both at last to an eminence of bare rock on one side of which was a piece of marshy ground which held back the flames and on the other side was a space already burned over.
His Death Song.
Beyond them — down toward the margin of the lake — roared the forest fire, leaving only smoldering embers behind. They were saved.
Below the rocks there was a cave, and from it appeared Natty Bumppo. When the fire had so suddenly broken out he had stayed there to guard something which to him. was more precious even than the life of the girl who had agreed to meet him upon the mountain top. That something was the life of an aged man, as will be shown presently.
They laid old Indian John down with his back against a projecting rock. The strange, weird look was deepening in his eyes. He began a low, crooning song — the death song of the Delawares, and, when he had ceased it his soul had fled.
Tenderly did Bumppo and Edwards carry the body to the cave below and cover it with a blanket.
The First Kiss.
As soon as the cooling of the embers left by the fire allowed of it, Edwards guided Elizabeth to the edge of the forest and set her on her way home. A well-beaten path through the woods had allowed of an exit capable of being walked on when the fallen embers were brushed away before them by Edwards.
"Elizabeth," said Edwards, as he left her. "I shall probably never see you again. But — I may call you Elizabeth — may I not?"
"Yes," she said.
"I cannot explain now," said he, "but some time you may know."
He pressed a kiss upon her cheek — a kiss which she returned — and was gone. When Louisa, awaiting at the bridge, had seen the woods on fire she had rushed hysterically to the settlement and announced that Elizabeth was on the mountain.
Judge Temple, greatly alarmed, had, with some volunteers, started out on a rescue party but had been able to get no trace of Elizabeth. The judge returned, blackened and burned, to the manor house and with tears of joy found his daughter already there and uninjured.
Leather-Stocking's Secret.
The next day Judge Temple went with a body of his neighbors to the point of rocks in the burned forest where Elizabeth had been taken as to a sanctuary from the fire.
Leather-Stocking was an escaped criminal — there was no doubt about that but the judge would see that he was pardoned; would entreat him to come and live in peace in the settlement. On the rocks they found Leather-Stocking and Edwards standing.
"I will surrender," said Bumppo when the cordon had been drawn about the cave and the rocks above it.
"Wait a moment, Judge Marmaduke Temple — I will show you one who will confront you."
Edwards and Leather-Stocking disappeared into the cave and then came out bearing between them a rude chair, in which was seated a very old man with long, flowing white hair and a countenance expressive of high character and great benignity, though it could be seen at a glance by his lusterless and fireless eye that reason had fled from the once noble brain.
The Lost Major.
"Please be seated, gentlemen," said the old man, "the council will open immediately. Each one who loves a good and virtuous King will wish to see these Colonies continue loyal. The troops will halt for the night."
"This is the wandering of insanity," said Temple, who had drawn near with his villagers. "Who will explain this scene? Who is this man?"
"This man," replied Edwards, "whom you behold hid in caverns and deprived of everything that can make life desirable, is the rightful proprietor of the soil upon which you stand, and the father of him whom you once called your friend.
"This then," exclaimed the judge, "is the lost Maj Effingham, and you?"
"I am his grandson."
"Send for my carriage," cried the judge; "let it come as near as possible. Let this old man be taken to the manor house. I see it all. Oliver, I forgive all your harshness.
"Come, come, I will explain. I knew that your grandfather was left in this country at the outbreak of the war, but have sought for him in vain. I am but a trustee for him.
Other Things to Explain.
"But you, the son of my friend — I thought you had perished with him in the ship in which he left England to come here to his own."
"I left by a later ship," replied Edwards — or, as we shall have to call him, Effingham — "and did you know that you — my father, should have confided more in me."
"But about your Indian blood — how is that?"
"My grandfather was adopted into the tribe of the Delawares," said Effingham with a smile; "that is all — it was merely an Indian compliment. I have no blood of the Indian though, if I had, I should prize it.
"Leather-Stocking was an old follower of my grandfather, and Indian John was his brother by adoption in the Indian tribe. When I had found my grandfather I came here, met Bumppo and John and brought my grandfather to live with Natty in his hut. I was without means and it was all I could do."
"I thought your grandfather had long been dead," said the judge. "I was told so. But let us hurry to the mansion house — there are other things you should know."
Happiness for All — but One.
The carriage of the judge was now announced and the old man, still babbling, was tenderly carried to it.
When the party arrived at the manor house the judge showed young Effingham the document which he had had drawn upon the receipt of a letter from the London agent of the young man's father stating the loss of the ship in which the judge's old friend had embarked for America.
It was a will leaving half of his property to Maj Effingham should he still be alive. If his death were proven then the half went to his grandson, Edward Oliver Effingham, should he be alive: if not to the heirs-at-law of the Effinghams.
"So you see, I am ready to turn over to you one-half of my property, and, if I read hearts aright, you will soon have the other half — for it goes to my daughter."
He took the hands of Effingham and Elizabeth and joined them. Louisa Grant looked on with a face like marble.
That Fall the old major died and Rev Mr Grant had "a call" to a parish upon the banks of the Hudson, whither he went with his daughter.
Natty Bumppo refused all entreaties to stay in Templeton, and, taking his rifle upon his shoulder, set out alone with his face to the setting sun.
(Copyright, 1914, by Irving King. All rights reserved.)
[THE END]