The Black Eagle; or, Ticonderoga

by G. P. R. James

There was the fate of another connected with the events of that night, of whom some notice must be taken, from the influence which his destiny exercised over the destinies of all. With greater promptness and celerity than had been expected from him, even by those who knew him best, Walter Prevost had executed the business entrusted to him, and was ready to set out from Albany, a full day, at least, before his return had been expected by his family. Fortune had favoured him, it is true. He had found the commander-in-chief in the city, and at leisure. A man of a prompt and active mind had readily appreciated the promptitude and activity of the lad; and his business had been despatched as readily as circumstances permitted.

A boat sailing up the Hudson with some stores and goods for traffic was found to convey him a considerable way on his journey; and he was landing at a point on the western bank of the river, some seventeen miles from his father's house, at the very moment that Mr. Prevost, Lord H----, and Edith, were mounting by the side of the little lake to pursue their journey.

The way before him was rough and uneven, and the path somewhat intricate; but he thought he knew it sufficiently to make his way by it, before sunset, to a better known part of the country, and he hurried on with youthful confidence and vigour. His rifle in his hand, his knapsack on his shoulder, and a good large hunting-knife in his belt, with great agility of limbs and no small portion of bodily vigour, he would have proved no contemptible opponent in the presence of any single enemy. But he never thought of enemies; and all in his bosom was courage, and joy, and expectation.

Whatever great cities, and camps, and courts might have offered, Albany, at least, a small provincial capital, filled with a staid and somewhat rigid people, and only enlivened by the presence of a regiment or two of soldiers, had no attraction for him; and he was heartily glad to escape from it again, to the free life around his paternal dwelling, and to the society of his father and Edith--and Otaitsa.

Steadily he went along, climbed the hills, strode along the plain, and forded the river. The traces of cultivation soon became fewer, and then ceased; and, following resolutely the path before him, two hours passed before he halted, even to look around. Then, however, he paused for a minute or two to consider his onward course.

Two or three Indian trails crossed at the spot where he stood, one of them so deeply indented in the ground as to show that its frequent use existed from a very ancient date. Its course seemed to lie in the direction in which he wanted to go, and he thought he remembered having followed it some months before. Across it ran the settlers' way, broader and better marked out, but not very direct to his father's house; and he was hesitating which he should take, when the sound of creaking wheels, and the common cry used by ploughmen and teamsters to their cattle, showed him that some one was coming, who was likely to give him better information. That information seemed the more necessary, as the day was already far on the decline; and he had not yet reached a spot of which he could be certain.

A moment or two after, coming up the lane in the wood, as we should call it in England, appeared a heavy ox-waggon, drawn by four stout steers, and loaded with three women and a number of boxes; while by the side of the rude vehicle appeared three men on foot, and one on horseback, each very well armed, together with no less than five dogs of different descriptions.

Walter instantly recognised in the horseman the farmer who lived some ten miles to the south-west of his father's house. The farmer was a good-humoured, kindly-hearted man, honest enough, but somewhat selfish in his way; always wishing to have the best of a bargain, if it could be obtained without absolute roguery, yet willing enough to share the fruits of his labour or his cunning with any one who might be in need.

On the present occasion, however, he was either sullen or stupid; and it was indeed clear that both he and his male companions had been drinking quite enough to dull the edge of intellect in some degree. Those on foot went on, without even stopping the oxen to speak with their young neighbour; and the farmer himself only paused, for a moment or two, to answer Walter's questions.

"Why, Mr. Whitter," said the young gentleman, "you seem to be moving with all your family."