Part 9 (1/2)
”I wish I had my box,” said John, who had been watching the running water.
”Why do you want your box, John?” said Mary.
”For my hooks in my box,” replied John.
”Why, do you see any fish in this small stream?” said Emma.
”Yes,” replied John, walking on before them.
Mary and Emma followed him, now and then stopping to pick a flower unknown to them: when they overtook John, he was standing immovable, pointing to a figure on the other side of the stream, as fixed and motionless as himself.
The girls started back as they beheld a tall, gaunt man, dressed in deer hides, who stood leaning upon a long gun with his eyes fixed upon them.
His face was browned and weather-beaten--indeed so dark that it was difficult to say if he were of the Indian race or not.
”It must be a hunter, Emma,” said Mary Percival; ”he is not dressed like the Indians we saw at Quebec.”
”It must be,” replied Emma; ”won't he speak?”
”We will wait and see,” replied Mary. They did wait for a minute or more, but the man neither spoke nor s.h.i.+fted his position.
”I will speak to him, Mary,” said Emma at last. ”My good man, you are Malachi Bone, are you not?”
”That's my name,” replied the hunter in a deep voice; ”and who on earth are you, and what are you doing here? Is it a frolic from the fort, or what is it, that causes all this disturbance?”
”Disturbance!--why we don't make a great deal of noise; no, it's no frolic; we are come to settle here, and shall be your neighbors.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: MALACHI.]
”To settle here!--why, what on earth do you mean, young woman? Settle here!--not you, surely.”
”Yes, indeed, we are. Don't you know Martin Super, the trapper? He is with us, and now at work in the woods getting ready for raising the house, as you call it.--Do you know, Mary,” said Emma in a low tone to her sister, ”I'm almost afraid of that man, although I do speak so boldly.”
”Martin Super--yes, I know him,” replied the hunter, who without any more ceremony threw his gun into the hollow of his arm, turned round, and walked away in the direction of his own hut.
”Well, Mary,” observed Emma, after a pause of a few seconds, during which they watched the receding form of the hunter, ”the old gentleman is not over-polite. Suppose we go back and narrate our first adventure?”
”Let us walk up to where Alfred and Martin Super are at work, and tell them,” replied Mary.
They soon gained the spot where the men were felling the trees, and made known to Alfred and Martin what had taken place.
”He is angered, miss,” observed Martin; ”I guessed as much; well, if he don't like it he must squat elsewhere.”
”How do you mean squat elsewhere?”
”I mean, miss, that if he don't like company so near him he must s.h.i.+ft and build his wigwam further off.”
”But, why should he not like company? I should have imagined that it would be agreeable rather than otherwise,” replied Mary Percival.