“The beast! nothing more nor less than the squatter’s hidden, ravenous, dangerous beast!”
“Excellent young woman,” commenced the young stranger, who had so lately joined himself to the party on the prairie—but his mouth was immediately stopped by a significant sign from the trapper, who whispered in his ear—
“Let the lad be our spokesman. Natur’ will work in the bosom of the child, and we shall gain our object, in good time.”
“The whole truth is out, Ellen,” Paul continued, “and we have lined the squatter into his most secret misdoings. We have come to right the wronged and to free the imprisoned; now, if you are the girl of a true heart, as I have always believed, so far from throwing straws in our way, you will join in the general swarming, and leave old Ishmael and his hive to the bees of his own breed.”
“I have sworn a solemn oath—”
“A compactum which is entered into through ignorance, or in duresse, is null in the sight of all good moralists,” cried the Doctor.
“Hush, hush,” again the trapper whispered; “leave it all to natur’ and the lad!”
“I have sworn in the sight and by the name of Him who is the founder and ruler of all that is good, whether it be in morals or in religion,” Ellen continued, “neither to reveal the contents of that tent, nor to help its prisoner to escape. We are both solemnly, terribly, sworn; our lives perhaps have been the gift we received for the promises. It is true you are masters of the secret, but not through any means of ours; nor do I know that I can justify myself, for even being neutral, while you attempt to invade the dwelling of my uncle in this hostile manner.”
“I can prove beyond the power of refutation,” the naturalist eagerly exclaimed, “by Paley, Berkeley, ay, even by the immortal Binkerschoek, that a compactum, concluded while one of the parties, be it a state or be it an individual, is in durance—”
“You will ruffle the temper of the child, with your abusive language,” said the cautious trapper, “while the lad, if left to human feelings, will bring her down to the meekness of a fawn. Ah! you are like myself, little knowing in the natur’ of hidden kindnesses!”