George said not a word, but he did not like aspersions of any kind on Billy. Seeing this, Lord Fairfax said, in his usual kind tone:
“If it gives you pleasure, you must, of course, keep him with you—and indeed there is nothing else to be done that I can see; and as you say he is no good to your mother when you are not at home, perhaps he is better off here. He seems a faithful little soul, and I am not surprised that you are touched at his devotion.”
George’s face assumed an entirely different expression, but he merely said, “Thank you, sir,” and in a few minutes after, throwing a bear-robe over Billy, George went to bed himself, with Rattler curled up by him.
Next morning they took the road soon after sunrise. Billy, who had enough of walking for some time to come, was mounted on one of the pack-horses. Two saddle-horses had been brought down from Greenway for the earl and his young guest, and together they led the procession along the rough mountain road. The scenery was wildly beautiful. Occasionally they wound along mighty precipices, where the horses could scarcely pick their way. Again they forded mountain streams that could only be breasted by the most tremendous exertions. They made their way through a great cleft in the mountains about midday, and began to descend towards the valleys. The distance was but twenty miles, yet so difficult was the road that it was late in the short autumn afternoon before Lord Fairfax, pointing to a collection of roofs that lay directly below them in a sheltered part of the valley, said to George, “There is Greenway Court.”
By sunset they were riding up the rough road that led to the house.
It was a large, low building, with stables and offices projecting on each side. The foundation was of stone, rudely but strongly cemented. Half-way up the story and a half which constituted the building the stone ceased, and logs, neatly and even artistically mortised together, were carried to the roof. The effect was not unpleasing, especially as many of the original forest trees had been left, and the building blended well with its surroundings. Broad and shallow stone steps led up to the main entrance, and two great oak doors studded with nails gave entrance to it. George noticed that all of the windows were provided with stout iron-bound shutters, with holes for musketry in them. The door was also pierced for defence, and a very slight examination showed that, if well garrisoned, the building could be converted into a tolerably strong block-house. The earl, as if reading the thoughts in George’s mind, remarked:
“We have to be provided here for attacks from the Indians, incited by the French. The French have determined to extend their encroachments eastward and southward by a chain of forts, and I make no doubt that they contemplate a line that will extend from Canada to Louisiana. They use the Indians as secret though powerful allies, and by encouraging them to harry and murder the whites in this wild part of the colony of Virginia, they think that it will be abandoned, and that they can advance their outposts this far. Greenway Court has withstood one siege, and can withstand another. There is a spring directly under the house, and, having some knowledge of mechanics, I have concealed the source, which is at a distance from the house, and we get the spring-water by merely going down into the cellar. Then I keep constantly on hand, in this same cellar, stores of provisions and ammunition, so we are well able to defend ourselves, even against burning—for the Indians have found out the use of the torch against white men’s dwellings. However, I hope we shall have no bouts with them while you are with us.”
George said nothing, but he would have been more or less than a boy if he had not longed in his heart for a bout with the savages, of which he had heard much but seen little.
CHAPTER VII
Inside, Greenway Court was not devoid of comfort, and even of luxury. The main hall was open to the roof, and, like all the rooms in the house, the rafters were left bare, and the walls rough cast in a sort of brown plaster not unpleasing to the eye. In every room there was a huge fireplace with great iron fire-dogs. In some of the guest-chambers were the vast curtained beds of the period, but in Lord Fairfax’s own room was a small iron bedstead that he had used in his campaigns when a young man. His library communicated with his bedroom, and was by far the most luxurious room in the whole quaint building. It was lined with books from the door to the low ceiling—George had never seen so many books in all his life before. There were also a few portraits and one or two busts. Over the mantel two swords were crossed—one a cavalry sword, and the other a delicate rapier such as officers in the foot regiments used at that day. George’s eyes fell upon them as soon as he and the earl entered the room.