As the whole party moved at a great pace, they soon reached the hut, where Hiram thought it prudent to halt on the outside of the top of the fallen pine, which formed a chevaux-de-frise, to defend the approach to the fortress, on the side next the village. The delay was little relished by Kirby, who clapped his hands to his mouth, and gave a loud halloo that brought the dogs out of their kennel, and, almost at the same instant, the scantily-covered head of Natty from the door.
“Lie down, old fool,” cried the hunter; “do you think there's more painters about you?”
“Ha! Leather-Stocking, I've an arrand with you,” cried Kirby; “here's the good people of the State have been writing you a small letter, and they've hired me to ride post.”
“What would you have with me, Billy Kirby?” said Natty, stepping across his threshold, and raising his hand over his eyes, to screen them from the rays of the setting sun, while he took a survey of his visitor. “I've no land to clear, and Heaven knows I would set out six trees afore I would cut down one.—Down, Hector, I say; into your kennel with ye.”
“Would you, old boy?” roared Billy; “then so much the better for me. But I must do my arrand. Here's a letter for you, Leather-Stocking. If you can read it, it's all well, and if you can't, here's Squire Doolittle at hand, to let you know what it means. It seems you mistook the twentieth of July for the first of August, that's all.”
By this time Natty had discovered the lank person of Hiram, drawn up under the cover of a high stump; and all that was complacent in his manner instantly gave way to marked distrust and dissatisfaction. He placed his head within the door of his hut, and said a few words in an undertone, when he again appeared, and continued:
“I've nothing for ye; so away, afore the Evil One tempts me to do you harm. I owe you no spite, Billy Kirby, and what for should you trouble an old man who has done you no harm?”
Kirby advanced through the top of the pine, to within a few feet of the hunter, where he seated himself on the end of a log, with great composure, and began to examine the nose of Hector, with whom he was familiar, from their frequently meeting in the woods, where he sometimes fed the dog from his own basket of provisions.
“You've outshot me, and I'm not ashamed to say it,” said the wood-chopper; “but I don't owe you a grudge for that, Natty! though it seems that you've shot once too often, for the story goes that you've killed a buck.”
“I've fired but twice to-day, and both times at the painters,” returned the Leather-Stocking; “see, here are the scalps! I was just going in with them to the Judge's to ask the bounty.”