The German Pioneers: A Tale of the Mohawk

by Friedrich Spielhagen

Lambert briefly thanked them for their kind inquiries, ascertained how long since the men had gone, spurred his horse and, with a brief salutation, trotted away, thus filling the beautiful blonde Annie with not a little anxiety, and compelling her to listen to the remarks of her sisters, Barbara and Gussie:

"Now one can clearly see, what we always thought, that Lambert Sternberg did not take that long journey to New York on account of the pines."

Annie replied that she cared nothing for Lambert, and that Fritz and August Volz had also not yet declared themselves. The mother took Annie's part, and the dispute threatened to become serious, when it happily occurred to them that they had not once asked Adam what sort of a person the new girl was.

They now learned from the keen rider, who had gone into the house and was rubbing his shins with brandy, that, in no case was Lambert to have her, but that he himself was to marry the girl as soon as the Indians had taken Lambert's scalp, and that he and Lambert had come to a complete agreement on that matter.

While Catherine's fate was thus discussed in the Bellinger family, Lambert pushed along on a fast trot to regain lost time. He had gathered from the questions of the women, and still more from the tone in which they were put, that the way in which he had dealt was not thought favorably of. He was yesterday persuaded of this, and to escape this neighborhood interference he had taken the road through the woods. He felt grieved and angry at his aunt, who alone could have spread abroad the knowledge of his return and his relation to Catherine. Still he said to himself that, since all must shortly know it, it was best they should know it as soon as possible. He saw how difficult his position in the community would be--as indeed it should be--so long as Catherine was not his wife; possibly even after that; that, at all events, it was his duty to make his relation to Catherine clear to all eyes. He determined yet to-day, should opportunity offer, to speak to the minister and to seek the advice and help of that excellent man.

He had now come out of what was properly the valley of the creek, near its mouth. Toward the right of him lay the broad German Flats, in the fork between the creek and the Mohawk. The land, long rescued from the primitive forest, was rich, and there were unbroken lines of successive settlements, with a small church and a parsonage in the midst on a hill. Before him, on the other side of the Mohawk, whose clear waters glanced between its bushy shores, there stood out also on a hill, what looked like a small fortification. This, the purposed end of his journey, was Nicolas Herkimer's stately house.

He now discovered that, as he had feared, he would not be the last one to arrive. In the even reaches between corn-fields and bushes those coming on foot or on horseback singly, or by twos, or threes, from different directions, could be seen, all moving toward one point. There was a house conveniently situated on this side of the river, diagonally across from Herkimer's farm, where Hans Haberkorn, the ferryman, lived.

Here, a few minutes afterward, Lambert met the men whom he had from a distance seen coming. By them he was greeted very cordially, as though all had heard of his journey to New York, but not of his return. They wanted to know how the matters had resulted and especially what he had heard in the city about the war in Europe; whether the French had really, the year before at Roszbach, been so helplessly slaughtered, and whether the king of Prussia was this year going to take the field against his countless enemies.

Lambert told them what he knew, and on his part sought information about things at home. Of the five or six men who thus happened to meet, each gave his impressions as best he could, from which it appeared that there were nearly as many different opinions as there were men, in the small gathering. Yes, while they were eagerly attacking Hans Haberkorn's rum, they became so warm that they seemed to have forgotten why they were there, until Lambert's urgency induced them to go on.

Hans Haberkorn thought there was no hurry and that they could just as well consult here as at Herkimer's. The rest, however, would not stay behind. They tied their horses in a row, under an open shed, to the manger, and went upon the river; and on the short passage across renewed their debate with increased earnestness, so that it did not lack much of going from words to blows on the small scow.