In the course of the evening Lindsay held a short interview with his children, in which he made known to them that affairs of importance were about to call him away, for a fortnight perhaps, from the Dove Cote. It was in vain that Mildred endeavored to turn him from his purpose, which, though undivulged to her, she conjectured to be, from its association with Tyrrel, some sinister political move, of which her father was to be the dupe.
In accordance with Lindsay's intimation, he and Tyrrel set out, at an early hour of the following day, on their journey towards the low country.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
A DOMESTIC SCENE AT THE DOVE COTE.
On the third morning following Lindsay's and Tyrrel's departure, the season being now about the commencement of September, Henry was seen, after an unusually early breakfast, to come forth upon the grass-plot, in front of the house, bearing in his hand a short rifle,—his customary accompaniment of the bugle being slung across his shoulders. For some moments he was occupied in examining his weapon; then leaning it against a tree that stood upon the lawn, he put the bugle to his mouth and sounded a long and clear signal-note. The first effects of this spell were to bring up Bell, Blanche, and Hylas, the three flap-eared hounds, who came frisking over the grass with many antics that might be said to resemble the bows and curtsies of the human species, and which were accompanied by the houndish salutation of deep-mouthed howls that the horn never fails to wake up in these animals.
Soon after these, came striding up the hill the long gaunt form of Stephen Foster, who, mounting the stone wall on the lower side, with one bound sprang over the thickset-hedge that begirt the terrace. He was now arrayed in a yellow hunting shirt that reached to the middle of his thigh, and which was decorated with an abundance of red fringe that bound the cape, elbows, wrists, and extremity of the skirt, and a wool hat encircled with a broad red band, in one side of which was set the national ornament of the buck-tail. Around his waist was buckled a broad buckskin belt; he was armed besides with a rifle a little short of six feet in length.
Stephen Foster was one of that idle craft, who, having no particular occupation, was from this circumstance, by a contradiction in terms, usually called a man of all work. He belonged to that class of beings who are only to be found in a society where the ordinary menial employments are discharged by slaves; and was the tenant of a few acres of land, appertaining to the domain of the Dove Cote, where he professed to make his living by husbandry. But by far the greater proportion of his revenues was derived from divers miscellaneous services,—such as driving a team of four lean horses, of which he was proprietor; hauling wood for fuel; assisting in the harvest fields; somtimes working in the garden; and, when required, riding errands—which he preferred to all other business. But labor was not Stephen's forte: it was constitutionally a part of his system to postpone matters of work for pleasure; and, if there was anything for which he was particularly famous, it was in avoiding all appearances of punctuality to irksome engagements. If he can be said to have had a calling at all, it was that of a hunter, a species of employment that possessed a wonderful charm for his fancy, and which was excellently adapted both to his physical and moral qualities. He, therefore, gave much of his time to the concerns of vert and venison; and his skill with the rifle was such that he could make sure of putting a ball through the brain of a wild pigeon as far as he was able to draw a sight. He was skilled in the habits of all the forest animals common to this part of Virginia, and accurately drew the line of distinction between vermin and game. He hunted wolves, bears, panthers (painters, in his own pronunciation), racoons, foxes, opossums, and squirrels; and trapped otter, beaver, and muskrats; moreover, he was an expert jigger and bobber of eels, and well knew the trouting streams. For these pursuits he was endowed with a patient nature that could endure a whole day and night in the woods without eating or sleeping; my authority says nothing of his forbearance in the third primary want of humanity. He was a man of fine thews and sinews, stout and brave; and withal of a generous, frank, and invariable good nature. The war had furnished occasion for such talents as be possessed; and Stephen was now meditating a bold severance from his wife and children, who had heretofore exerted such a dominion over his affections, that he had not the heart to leave them. But the present difficulties of the nation had made such a cogent appeal to his patriotism, that he had resolved to take one campaign in the field, and thus give scope to his natural love of adventure. It was now his peculiar glory, and one that wrought with a potent influence upon his self-love, that he held the post of lieutenant to the company of Amherst Rangers, a volunteer corps that had lately been organized with a view to the state of affairs in the south.
This worthy, when he had no expedition in hand, was generally to be found lounging about the mansion of the Dove Cote, in expectation of some call from Henry, between whom and himself there existed a mutual and somewhat exorbitant affection.