His words would have been enigmas to Edith, had she not somehow misunderstood their obvious meaning; for Lord H----, not fully knowing the character of the man, and unwilling to excite confident hope that might ultimately be disappointed by some change of Woodchuck's feelings, had foreborne to mention more of his purposes than the mere fact of his intention to peril his own life to save that of Walter Prevost. To Edith the words used by Woodchuck seemed but to imply that he still contemplated some daring attempt to set her brother at liberty; and in the hope, if she could learn the particulars of his scheme, to be able to procure the co-operation of Otaitsa and others in the Oneida Castle, she said: "You are indeed a good, kind friend, Woodchuck, and you have, I know, already undergone great risks for poor Walter's sake. There are others laboring for him, too, and perhaps if we knew what you intended to do next----"
"To do next!" exclaimed the man, interrupting her. "Why, haven't I told you? I said when I found I could not get in from the west I made up my mind."
"To do what, my good friend?" said Mr. Prevost. "You certainly implied you intended to do something, but what you did not state. Now, I easily understand Edith's anxiety to know your intentions, for we have obtained friends in the Oneida camp who might give great assistance to your efforts if we knew what they are to be. But I should tell you, my dear daughter here ventured across the Mohawk country to see our dear little Otaitsa, who, like you, risked her own life to save my poor boy--God's blessing be upon her!"
The tears rose in his eyes, and he paused for a moment; but Woodchuck waved his hand, saying: "I know all about it. I were on the bank of the creek, Miss Edith, when the Ingian woman paddled you back, and I guessed how it had all been. I said to myself, when I heard more of it two days arter, 'Her father will be mighty angry,' and so he were, I guess."
"You are mistaken, my friend," said Mr. Prevost, laying his hand on Edith's with a tender pressure. "I was not angry, though I was much alarmed; but that alarm was not of long endurance, for I was detained much longer than I expected at Sir William Johnson's, and my anxiety was only protracted two days after my return. But still you have not told us of your plans. If that dear girl, Otaitsa, can help us, she will do it if it cost her life!"
Woodchuck paused a moment or two, in deep, absent thought, and over his rough countenance the trace of many a strong emotion flitted; but at length he said, in a low, distinct voice: "She can do nothing. Black Eagle has the boy under his keen eye. He loves him well, Mr. Prevost, and he will treat him kindly; but just as much as he does love him he will make it a point to keep him safely, and to kill him, too, if he ha'n't got another victim. That man should ha' been one of those old Romans I have heard talk of, who killed their own sons and daughters rather than not do what they thought right. He'd not spare his own flesh and blood--not he; and the more he loves him the surer he'll kill him!"
Edith wept, and Mr. Prevost covered his eyes with his hands; but Woodchuck, who had been gazing down upon the table, and saw not the powerful emotions his words had produced, proceeded, after a gloomy pause: "He'll watch his daughter sharply, too, though they say he praised her daring; and that I guess he did, for that's just the sort of thing to strike his fancy. He'll take care she sha'n't do it again. No! no! There's but one way with Black Eagle. I know him well, and he knows me, and there is but one way with him."
"What's that?" asked Mr. Prevost, in a tone of deep melancholy.
"Just to do what I intend," replied Woodchuck, with a very calm manner. "Mr. Prevost, I love my life as much as any man--a little too much, mayhap, and I intend to keep it as long as I rightly can; for there are always things written in that chapter of accidents that none on us can see. But I don't intend to let your son Walter--he's a good boy--be put to death for a thing of my doing. You don't suppose it? At first, when the thing came fresh upon me at Albany, I felt mighty like a fool and a coward, and I would ha' skulked away into any hole, just to save myself from myself. But I soon took thought, and made up my mind. Now, here you and Miss Edith have been praising and thanking me for trying to save poor Walter's life. I didn't deserve no praise, no thanks, either. It was my own life I was trying to save; for if I could get him out secretly we should both be secure enough; but I've given it up. It can't be done; and Black Eagle knows it. He knows me, too, and he's just as sure at this blessed moment that before the day he has appointed for Walter to die, Woodchuck will walk in and say, 'Here I am!' as he is that he's in his own lodge. Then he will have got the right man, and all will be settled. Now, Mr. Prevost, and you, Miss Edith, you know what I intend to do. To-morrow, when I'm a bit rested, I shall set out again and take my ramble in the mountains like Jephtha's daughter, as I said. Then this day month I will be here again to bid you all good-bye. Walter will have to tell you the rest. Don't cry so, there's a good girl. You're like to set me a-crying, too. There's one thing more I have to ask you both, and that is: Never speak another word to me about this matter--not even when I come back again. I try not to think of it at all myself, and I don't much now. If I can screw myself up like those Ingians, I shall just walk quietly in among them as if nothing were going to happen, and say, 'Set the boy free; here's Woodchuck himself,' and then die--not like an Indian, but like a Christian, I trust, and one that knows he's a-doing of his duty, anyhow. So now not a word more--and let's talk of something else."
Woodchuck steadily and sturdily refused to pursue any further the subject of his fixed determination, although both Mr. Prevost and Edith, deeply touched, and, to say the truth, much agitated, would fain have dwelt upon the topic longer. Edith felt, and Mr. Prevost argued in his own mind, that the poor man was performing a generous and self-devoted act, which no moral obligation forced upon him. They felt, too, that so noble a heart was not one which ought to be sacrificed to the vengeful spirit of the Indians; and the natural feeling of joy and satisfaction which they experienced at the apparent certainty of Walter's deliverance from death seemed to them almost a crime, when it was to be purchased at so dear a price.