“Fear not, till Birnam Wood
Shall come to Dunsinane.”
Macbeth.
I cannot say I was quite satisfied with the manner of Susquesus; nor, on the other hand, was I absolutely uneasy. All might be well; and, if it were not, the power of this man to injure us could not be very great. A new occurrence, however, raised very unpleasant doubts of his honesty. Jumper being out on a hunt, the Onondago was sent across to Ravensnest the next trip, out of his turn; but, instead of returning, as had been the practice of both, the next day, we saw no more of him for near a fortnight. As we talked over this sudden and unexpected disappearance, we came to the conclusion, that, perceiving he was distrusted, the fellow had deserted, and would be seen no more. During his absence, we paid a visit to Ravensnest ourselves, spending two or three happy days with the girls, whom we found delighted with the wildness of their abode, and as happy as innocence, health, and ceaseless interest in the forest and its habits, could make them. Herman Mordaunt, having fortified his house sufficiently, as he fancied, to remove all danger of an assault, returned with us to Mooseridge, and passed two or three days in walking over and examining the quality of the land, together with the advantages offered by the water-courses. As for Mr. Worden and Jason, the former had gone to join the army, craving the flesh-pots of a regimental mess, in preference to the simple fare of the woods; while Jason had driven a hard bargain with Herman Mordaunt for the possession of the mill-seat; which had been the subject of frequent discussions between the parties, and about which the pedagogue had deemed it prudent to draw on the wisdom of Mother Doortje. As the reader may have some curiosity to know how such things were conducted in the colony, in the year 1758, I will recapitulate the terms of the bargain that was finally agreed on, signed and sealed.
Herman Mordaunt expected no emolument to himself, from Ravensnest, but looked forward solely to a provision for posterity. In consequence of these views, he refused to sell, but gave leases on such conditions as would induce tenants to come into his terms, in a country in which land was far plentier than men. For some reason, that never was very clear to me, he was particularly anxious to secure Jason Newcome, and no tolerable terms seemed extravagant to effect his purpose. It is not surprising, therefore, that our miller in perspective got much the best of the bargain, as its conditions will show.
The lease was for three lives, and twenty-one years afterwards. This would have been thought equal to a lease for forty-two years, in that day, in Europe; but experience is showing that it is, in truth, for a much longer period, in America. [35] The first ten years, no rent at all was to be paid. For the next ten, the land, five hundred acres, was to pay sixpence currency an acre, the tenant having the right to cut timber at pleasure. This was a great concession, as the mill-lot contained much pine. For the remainder of the lease, be it longer or shorter, a shilling an acre, or about sixpence sterling, was to be paid for the land, and forty pounds currency, or one hundred dollars a year, for the mill-seat. The mills to be taken by the landlord, at an appraisal 'made by men', at the expiration of the lease; the tenant to pay the taxes. The tenant had the privilege of using all the materials for his dams, buildings, &c., he could find on the land.
The policy of the owners of Mooseridge was different. We intended to sell at low prices, at first, reserving for leases hereafter, such farms as could not be immediately disposed of, or for which the purchaser failed to pay. In this manner it was thought we should sooner get returns for our outlays, and sooner 'build up a settlement,' as the phrase goes. In America, the reader should know, everything is 'built.' The priest 'builds up' a flock; the speculator, a fortune; the lawyer, a reputation; and the landlord, a settlement; sometimes, with sufficient accuracy in language, he even builds a town.
Jason was a very happy man, the moment he got his lease, signed and sealed, in his own possession. It made him a sort of a land-holder on the spot, and one who had nothing to pay for ten years to come. God forgive me, if I do the man injustice; but, from the first, I had a suspicion that Jason trusted to fortune to prevent any pay-day from ever coming at all. As for Herman Mordaunt, he seemed satisfied, for he fancied that he had got a man of some education on his property, who might answer a good purpose in civilizing, and in otherwise advancing the interests of his estate.
Just as the rays of the rising sun streamed through the crevices of our log tenement, and ere one of us three idlers had risen from his pallet, I heard a moccasined foot moving near me, in the nearly noiseless tread of an Indian. Springing to my feet, I found myself face to face with the missing Onondago!
“You here, Susquesus!” I exclaimed; “we supposed you had abandoned us. What has brought you back?”
“Time to go, now,” answered the Indian, quietly. “Yengeese and Canada warrior soon fight.”
“Is this true!—And do you, can you know it to be true! Where have you been this fortnight past?”