“He was but a nigger, Corny, it is true,” said the Albanian, a little apologetically perhaps, after all was over, “but he was a very goot nigger, in the first place; then, he had a soul, as well as a white man—Pete had his merits, as well as a Tominie, and I trust they will not be forgotten in the last great account. He was an excellent cook, as you must have seen, and I never knew a nigger that had more of the dog-like fidelity to his master. The fellow never got into a frolic without coming honestly to ask leave; though, to be sure, I was not a hard master, in these particulars, on reasonable occasions.”
We next ate our breakfasts, with as much appetite as we could. Shouldering our packs, and placing all around, and in the hut, as much as possible in the condition in which we had found the place, we then commenced our march, Susquesus leading, as usual.
We went in quest of the surveyors, who were supposed to be in the south-east corner of the Patent, employed as usual, and ignorant of all that had passed. At first, we had thought of discharging our rifles, as signals to bring them in; but these signals might apprize our enemies, as well as our friends, of our presence, and the distance was too great, moreover, to render it probable the reports could be heard by those for whom alone they would be intended.
The route we took was determined by our general knowledge of the quarter of the Patent in which the surveyors ought now to be, as well as by the direction in which the body of Pete had been found. The poor fellow was certainly either going to, or coming from the party, and being in constant communication with them, he doubtless knew where they were at work. Then the different trails of the surveyors were easily enough found by Trackless, and he told us that the most recent led off in the direction I have named. Towards the south-east, therefore, we held our way, marching, as before, in Indian file; the Onondago leading, and the negro bringing up the rear.
CHAPTER XXVI.
“'Tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise,
To what we fear of death.”
Measure for Measure.
We were not long in reaching the point of the Patent in which the surveyors had been at work, after which we could have but little difficulty in finding their present actual position. The marked trees were guides that told the whole story of their labours. For an hour and a half, however, we moved rapidly forward, Susquesus on the lead, silent, earnest, watchful, and I fear I must add, revengeful. Not a syllable had been uttered during the whole of that time, though our senses were keenly on the alert; and we avoided everything like a cover that might conceal an ambush. Suddenly the Indian halted; at the next instant he was behind a tree. Each of us imitated him, quick as thought, for this was our previous training in the event of encountering an enemy; and we all well knew the importance of a cover in forest warfare. Still, no foe could be seen. After examining around us in every direction, for a minute or two, and finding the woods vacant and silent as ever, Guert and I quitted our own trees, and joined the Trackless, at the foot of his own huge pine.
“Why this, Susquesus?” demanded the Albanian, sharply; for he began to suspect a little acting, got up to magnify the Indian's usefulness; “here is neither pale-face nor red-skin. Have done with this folly, and let us go forward.”