The Little Red Foot

  CHAPTER V

  A SUPPER

  Now, what seemed strange to me at the Hall was the cheerfulness of allunder circumstances which must have mortified any Royalist, and, inparticular, the principal family in North America of that politicalcomplexion.

  Even Sir John, habitually cold and reserved, appeared to be in mostexcellent spirits for such a man, and his wintry smile shed its faintpale gleam more than once upon the company assembled at supper.

  On my arrival there seemed to be nobody there except the groom, who tookmy mare, Kaya, and Frank, Sir William's butler, who ushered me andseemed friendly.

  Into the drawing room came black Flora, all smiles, to say that thegentlemen were dressing but that Lady Johnson would receive me.

  She was seated before her glass in her chamber, and the red-cheekedIrish maid she had brought from New York was exceedingly busy curlingher hair.

  "Oh, Jack!" said Lady Johnson softly, and holding out to me one hand tobe saluted, "they told me you were in the village. Has it becomenecessary that I must send for an old friend who should have come of hisown free will?"

  "I thought perhaps you and Sir John might not take pleasure in a visitfrom me," I replied, honestly enough.

  "Why? Because last winter you answered the district summons and were onguard at the church with the Rebel Mohawk company?"

  So she knew that, too. But I had scarcely expected otherwise. And itcame into my thought that the dwarfish Bartholomews had given her newsof my doings and my whereabouts.

  "Come," said she in her lively manner, "a good soldier obeys hiscolonel, whoever that officer may chance to be--_for the moment_. And,were you even otherwise inclined, Jack, of what use would it have beento disobey after Philip Schuyler disarmed our poor Scots?"

  "If Sir John feels as you do, it makes my visit easier for all," said I.

  "Sir John," she replied, "is not a whit concerned. We here at the Hallhave laid down our arms; we are peaceably disposed; farm duties begin; amultitude of affairs preoccupy us; so let who will fight out thisquarrel in Massachusetts Bay, so only that we have tranquillity andpeace in County Tryon."

  I listened, amazed, to this school-girl chatter, marvelling that sheherself believed such pitiable nonsense.

  Yet, that she did believe it I was assured, because in my Lady Johnsonthere was nothing false, no treachery or lies or cunning.

  Somebody sure had filled her immature mind with this jargon, which nowshe repeated to me. And in it I vaguely perceived the duplicity andingenious manoeuvring of wills and minds more experienced than herown.

  But I said only that I hoped this county might escape the conflagrationnow roaring through all New England and burning very fiercely inVirginia and the Carolinas. Then, smiling, I made her a compliment onher hair, which her Irish maid was dressing very prettily, and laughedat her man's banyan which she so saucily wore in place of a levete. Onlya young and pretty woman could presume to wear a flowered silk banyan ather toilet; but it mightily became Polly Johnson.

  "Claudia is here," she remarked with a kindly malice perfectlytransparent.

  I took the news in excellent part, and played the hopeless swain for awhile, to amuse her, and so cunningly, too, that presently the charmingchild felt bound to comfort me.

  "Claudia is a witch," says she, "and does vast damage to no purpose butthat it feeds her vanity. And this I have said frequently to her veryface, and shall continue until she chooses to refrain from such harmfulcoquetry, and seems inclined to a more serious consideration of life andduty."

  "Claudia serious!" I exclaimed. "When Claudia becomes pensive, beware ofher!"

  "Claudia should marry early--as I did," said she. But her features grewgraver as she said it, and I saw not in them that inner light whichmakes delicately radiant the face of happy wifehood.

  I thought, "God pity her," but I said gaily enough that retribution mustone day seize Claudia's dimpled hand and place it in the grasp of somegentleman fitly fashioned to school her.

  We both laughed; then she being ready for her stays and gown, I retiredto the library below, where, to my chagrin, who should be lounging butHiakatoo, war chief of the Senecas, in all his ceremonial finery.Despite what dear Mary Jamison has written of him, nor doubting thatpure soul's testimony, I knew Hiakatoo to be a savage beast and a verydevil, the more to be suspected because of his terrible intelligence.

  With him was a Mr. Hare, sometime Lieutenant in the Mohawk Regiment,with whom I had a slight acquaintance. I knew him to be Tory to thebone, a deputy of Guy Johnson for Indian affairs, and a very shiftycharacter though an able officer of county militia and a scout of nomean ability.

  Hare gave me good evening with much courtesy and self-possession.Hiakatoo, also, extended a muscular hand, which I was obliged to take orbe outdone in civilized usage by a savage.

  "Well, sir," says Hare in his frank, misleading manner, "the last o' thesugar is a-boiling, I hear, and spring plowing should begin this week."

  Neither he nor Hiakatoo had as much interest in husbandry as twohoot-owls, nor had they any knowledge of it, either; but I repliedpolitely, and, at their request, gave an account of my glebe at Fonda'sBush.

  "There is game in that country," remarked Hiakatoo in the Senecadialect.

  Instantly it entered my head that his remark had two interpretations,and one very sinister; but his painted features remained calmlyinscrutable and perhaps I had merely imagined the dull, hot gleam that Ithought had animated his sombre eyes.

  "There is game in the Bush," said I, pleasantly,--"deer, _bear_,turkeys, and partridges a-drumming _the long roll_ all day long. And Ihave seen a moose near Lake Desolation."

  Now I had replied to the Seneca in the Canienga dialect; and he mightinterpret in two ways my reference to _bears_, and also what I saidconcerning the _drumming_ of the partridges.

  But his countenance did not change a muscle, nor did his eyes. And asfor Hare, he might not have understood my play upon words, for he seemedinterested merely in a literal interpretation, and appeared eager tohear about the moose I had seen near Lake Desolation.

  So I told him I had watched two bulls fighting in the swamp until theolder beast had been driven off.

  "Civilization, too, will soon drive away the last of the moose fromTryon," quoth Hare.

  "How many families at Fonda's Bush?" asked Hiakatoo abruptly.

  I was about to reply, telling him the truth, and checked myself withlips already parted to speak.

  There ensued a polite silence, but in that brief moment I was convincedthat they realized I suddenly suspected them.

  What I might have answered the Seneca I do not exactly know, for thenext instant Sir John entered the room with Ensign Moucher, of the oldMohawk Regiment, and young Captain Watts from New York, brother toPolly, Lady Johnson, a handsome, dissipated, careless lad, inclined topeevishness when thwarted, and marred, perhaps, by too much adulation.

  Scarce had compliments been exchanged with snuff when Lady Johnsonentered the room with Claudia Swift, and I thought I had seldom beheldtwo lovelier ladies in their silks and powder, who curtsied low on thethreshold to our profound bows.

  As I saluted Lady Johnson's hand again, she said: "This is most kind ofyou, Jack, because I know that all farmers now have little time towaste."

  "Like Cincinnatus," said I, smilingly, "I leave my plow in the furrow atthe call of danger, and hasten to brave the deadly battery of yourbright eyes."

  Whereupon she laughed that sad little laugh which I knew so well, andwhich seemed her manner of forcing mirth when Sir John was present.

  I took her out at her request. Sir John led Claudia; the others pairedgravely, Hare walking with the Seneca and whispering in his ear.

  Candles seemed fewer than usual in the dining hall, but were sufficientto display the late Sir William's plate and glass.

  The scented wind from Claudia's fan stirred my hair, and I remembered itwas still the hair of a forest runner, neither short nor sufficientlylong for the queue, and powdered
not a trace.

  I looked around at Claudia's bright face, more brilliant for the saucypatches and newly powdered hair.

  "La," said she, "you vie with Hiakatoo yonder in Mohawk finery,Jack,--all beads and thrums and wampum. And yet you have a pretty legfor a silken stocking, too."

  "In the Bush," said I, "the backwoods aristocracy make little of yoursilk hosen, Claudia. Our stockings are leather and our powder black, andour patches are of buckskin and are sewed on elbow and knee withpack-thread or sinew. Or we use them, too, for wadding."

  "It is a fashion like another," she remarked with a shrug, but watchingme intently over her fan's painted edge.

  "The mode is a tyrant," said I, "and knows neither pity nor good taste."

  "How so?"

  "Why, Hiakatoo also wears paint, Claudia."

  "Meaning that I wear lip-rouge and lily-balm? Well, I do, my impertinentfriend."

  "Who could suspect it?" I protested, mockingly.

  "You might have suspected it long since had you been sufficientlyadventurous."

  "How so?" I inquired in my turn.

  "By kissing me, pardieu! But you always were a timid youth, Jack Drogue,and a woman's 'No,' with the proper stare of indignation, always wassufficient to route you utterly."

  In spite of myself I reddened under the smiling torment.

  "And if any man has had that much of you," said I, "then I for one willbelieve it only when I see your lip-rouge on his lips!"

  "Court me again and then look into your mirror," she retorted calmly.

  "What in the world are you saying to each other?" exclaimed LadyJohnson, tapping me with her fan. "Why, you are red as a squaw-berry,Jack, and your wine scarce tasted."

  Claudia said: "I but ask him to try his fortune, and he blushes like asilly."

  "Shame," returned Lady Johnson, laughing; "and you have Mr. Hare's scalpfresh at your belt!"

  Hare heard it, and laughed in his frank way, which instantly disarmedmost people who had not too often heard it.

  "I admit," said he, "that I shall presently perish unless this cruellady proves kinder, or restores to me my hair."

  "It were more merciful," quoth Ensign Moucher, "to slay outright with asingle glance. I myself am long since doubly dead," he added with hismealy-mouthed laugh, and his mean reddish eyes a-flickering at LadyJohnson.

  Sir John, who was carving a roast of butcher's meat, carved on, thoughhis young wife ventured a glance at him--a sad, timid look as thoughhopeful that her husband might betray some interest when other men saidgallant things to her.

  I asked Sir John's permission to offer a toast, and he gave it with coldpoliteness.

  "To the two cruellest and loveliest creatures alive in a love-strickenworld," said I. "Gentlemen, I offer you our charming tyrants. And mayour heads remain ever in the dust and their silken shoon upon ournecks!"

  All drank standing. The Seneca gulped his Madeira like a slobbering dog,noticing nobody, and then fell fiercely to cutting up his meat, until,his knife being in the way, he took the flesh in his two fists andgnawed it.

  But nobody appeared to notice the Seneca's beastly manners; and suchgeneral complaisance preoccupied me, because Hiakatoo knew better, andit seemed as though he considered himself in a position where he mightdisdain to conduct suitably amid a company which, possibly, stood inneed of his good will.

  Nobody spoke of politics, nor did I care to introduce such a subject.Conversation was general; matters concerning the town, the Hall, werementioned, together with such topics as are usually discussed among landowners in time of peace.

  And it seemed to me that Sir John, who had, as usual, remained coldlyreticent among his guests, became of a sudden conversational with a sortof forced animation, like a man who recollects that he has a part toplay and who unwillingly attempts it.

  He spoke of the Hall farm, and of how he meant to do this with this partand that with that part; and how the herd bulls were now become uselessand he must send to the Patroon for new blood,--all a mere toneless andmechanical babble, it seemed to me, and without interest or sincerity.

  Once, sipping my claret, I thought I heard a faint clash of arms outsideand in the direction of the guard-house.

  And another time it seemed to me that many horses were stirringsomewhere outside in the darkness.

  I could not conceive of anything being afoot, because of Sir John'sparole, and so presently dismissed the incidents from my mind.

  The wine had somewhat heated the men; laughter was louder, speech lessguarded. Young Watts spoke boldly of Haldimand and Guy Carleton, namingthem as the two most efficient servants that his Majesty had in Canada.

  Nobody, however, had the effrontery to mention Guy Johnson in mypresence, but Ensign Moucher pretended to discuss a probable return ofold John Butler and of his son Walter to our neighborhood,--to hoodwinkme, I think,--but his mealy manner and the false face he pulled made methe more wary.

  The wine burned in Hiakatoo, but he never looked toward me nor directlyat anybody out of his blank red eyes of a panther.

  Sir John had become a little drunk and slopped his wine-glass, but thewintry smile glimmered on his thin lips as though some secret thoughtcontented him, and he was ever whispering with Captain Watts.

  But he spoke always of the coming summer and of his cattle and fieldsand the pursuits of peace, saying that he had no interest in Haldimandnor in any kinsmen who had fled Tryon; and that all he desired was to belet alone at the Hall, and not bothered by Phil Schuyler.

  "For," says he, emptying his glass with unsteady hand, "I've enough todo to feed my family and my servants and collect my rents; and I'mdamned if I can do it unless those excitable gentlemen in Albany mindtheir own business as diligently as I wish to mind mine."

  "Surely, Sir John," said I, "nobody wishes to annoy you, because it isthe universal desire that you remain. And, as you have pledged yourhonour to do so, only a fool would attempt to make more difficult yourposition among us."

  "Oh, there are fools, too," said he in his slow voice. "There were foolswho supposed that the Six Nations would not resent ill treatment metedout to Guy Johnson." His cold gaze rested for a second upon Hiakatoo,then swept elsewhere.

  Preoccupied, I heard Claudia's voice in my ear:

  "Do you take no pleasure any longer in looking at me, Jack! You havepaid me very scant notice tonight."

  I turned, smilingly made her a compliment, and she was now gazing intothe little looking-glass set in the handle of her French fan, and herdimpled hand busy with her hair.

  "Polly's Irish maid dressed my hair," she remarked. "I would to God Ihad as clever a wench. Could you discover one to wait on me?"

  Hare, who had no warrant for familiarity, as far as I was concerned,nevertheless called out with a laugh that I knew every wench in thecountryside and should find a pretty one very easily to serve Claudia.

  Which pleasantry did not please me; but Ensign Moucher and young Wattsbore him out, and they all fell a-laughing, discussing with littledecency such wenches as the two Wormwood girls near Fish House, andBetsy and Jessica Browse--maids who were pretty and full of gaiety atdance or frolic, and perhaps a trifle free in manners, but of whom Iknew no evil and believed none whatever the malicious gossip concerningthem.

  The gallantries of such men as Sir John and Walter Butler were known toeverybody in the country; and so were the carryings on of all theyounger gentry and the officers from Johnstown to Albany. Young girls'names--the daughters of tenants, settlers, farmers, were bandied aboutcarelessly enough; and the names of those famed for beauty, or a livelydisposition, had become more or less familiar to me.

  Yet, for myself, my escapades had been harmless enough--a pretty maidkissed at a quilting, perhaps; another courted lightly at a barn-romp; alaughing tavern wench caressed en passant, but no evil thought of it andnothing to regret--no need to remember aught that could start a tear inany woman's eyes.

  Watts said to Claudia: "There is a maid at Caughnawaga who serves oldDouw Fonda--a Sc
otch girl, who might serve you as well as Flora caresfor my sister."

  "Penelope Grant!" exclaims Hare with an oath. Whereat these three youngmen fell a-laughing, and even Sir John leered.

  I had heard her name and that the careless young gallants of the countrywere all after this young Scotch girl, servant to Douw Fonda--but I hadnever seen her.

  "She lives with the old gentleman, does she not?" inquired Claudia witha shrug.

  "She cares for him, dresses him, cooks for him, reads to him, sews,mends, lights him to bed and tucks him in," said Hare. "My God, what awife she'd make for a farmer! Or a mistress for a gentleman."

  "A wench I would employ very gladly," quoth Claudia, frowning. "Couldyou get her ear, Jack, and fetch her?"

  "Take her from Douw Fonda?" I exclaimed in surprise.

  "The old man is like to die any moment," remarked Watts.

  "Besides," said Moucher, "he has scores of kinsmen and their women totake him in charge."

  "She's a pretty bit o' baggage," said Sir John drunkenly. "If you butkiss the little slut she looks at you like a silly kitten, and, I think,with no more sense or comprehension."

  Captain Watts darted an angry look at his brother-in-law but saidnothing.

  Lady Johnson's features were burning and her lip quivered, but sheforced a laugh, saying that her husband could have judged only byhearsay, and that the Scotch girl's reputation was still very good inthe country.

  "Somebody'll get her," retorted Sir John, thickly, "for they're alla-pestering--Walter Butler, too, when he was here,--and your brother,and Hare and Moucher yonder. The little slut has yellow hair, but she'stoo damned thin!----" he hiccoughed and upset his wine; and a servantwiped his neck-cloth and his silk and silver waistcoat while he, withwagging and unsteady head, gazed gravely down at the damage done.

  Claudia set her lips to my ear: "The beast!--to affront his wife!" shewhispered. "Tell me, do you, also, go about your rustic gallantries inthe shameful manner of these educated and Christian gentlemen?"

  "I seek no woman's destruction," said I drily.

  "Not even mine?" She laughed as I reddened, and tapped me with her fan.

  "If our young men do not turn this Scotch girl's head with theirphilandering, send her to me and I will use her kindly."

  "You would not seduce her from an old and almost helpless man who needsher?" I demanded.

  "I find my servants where I can in such days as these," said she coolly."And there are plenty to care for old Douw Fonda in Caughnawaga, butonly an accomplished wench like Penelope Grant would I trust to do myhair and lace me. Will you send this girl to me?"

  "No, I won't," said I bluntly. "I shall not charge myself with such anerrand, even for you. It is not a decent thing you ask of me or of thewench, either."

  "It is decent," retorted Claudia pettishly. "If she's as pretty abaggage as is reported, some of our young fools will never let her aloneuntil one among them turns her silly head. Whereas the girl would besafe with me."

  "That is not my affair," I remarked.

  "Do you wish her harm?"

  "I tell you she is no concern of mine. And if she's not a hopeless foolshe'll know how to trust the gentry of County Tryon."

  "You are of them, too, Jack," she said maliciously.

  "I am a plain farmer and I trouble no woman."

  "You trouble me," she insisted sweetly.

  I laughed, not agreeably.

  "You do so," she repeated. "I would you had courage to court me again."

  "Do you mean courage or inclination, Claudia?"

  She gave me a melting look, very sweet, and a trifle sad.

  "With patience," she murmured, "you might awaken both our hearts."

  "I know well what I'd awaken in you," said I; "I'd awaken the devil. No;I've had my chance."

  She sighed, still looking at me, and I awaited her further assault,grimly armed with memories.

  But ere she could speak, Hiakatoo lurched to his feet and stood toweringthere unsteadily, his burning gaze fixed on space.

  Whereat Sir John, now very tight and very drowsy, opened owlish eyes;and Hare took the Seneca by the arm.

  "If you desire to go," said he, "here are three of us ready to ridebeside you."

  Moucher, too, stood up, and so did Captain Watts; but they were not intheir cups. Watts took Hiakatoo's blanket from a servant and cast itover the tall warrior's shoulders.

  "The Western Gate of the Confederacy lies unguarded," explained Hare tous all, in his frank, amiable manner. "The great Gate Keeper, Hiakatoo,bids you all farewell. Duty calls him toward the setting sun."

  All had now risen from the table. Hiakatoo lurched past us and out intothe hallway; Hare and Moucher and Watts took smiling leave of Sir John;the ladies gave them all a courteous farewell. Hare, passing, said tome:

  "To any who enquire you can answer pat enough to make an end to foolishrumours concerning any meditated flight of this family."

  "My answer," said I quietly, "is always the same: Sir William's son hasgiven his parole."

  They went out after their Indian, which disturbed me greatly, as I couldnot account for Hiakatoo's presence at Johnstown, and I was ill at easeseeing him so apparently in charge of three known Tories, and one ofthem a deputy of Guy Johnson.

  However, I took my leave of Sir John, who gave me a wavering hand andstared at me blankly. Then I kissed the ladies' hands and went out tothe porch where Billy waited with my mare, Kaya.

  Lady Johnson came to the door as I mounted.

  "Don't forget us when again you are in Johnstown," she said.

  Claudia, too, appeared and stepped daintily out on the dewy grass,lifting her petticoat.

  "What a witching night," she exclaimed mischievously, "--what a nightfor love! Do you mark the young moon, Jack, and how all the dark issaturated with a sweet smell of new buds?"

  "I mark it all," said I, laughing, "and, as for love, why, I love itall, Claudia,--moon, darkness, scent of young leaves, the far foreststill as death, and the noise of the brook yonder."

  "I meant a sweeter love," quoth she, coming to my stirrup and layingboth hands upon my saddle.

  "There is no sweeter love," said I, still laughing, "--none happier thanthe love of this silvery world of night which God made to heal us of theblows of day."

  "Whither do you ride, Jack?"

  "Homeward."

  "To Fonda's Bush?"

  "Yes."

  "Directly home?"

  "I have a comrade----" said I. "He awaits me on the Mayfield Road."

  "Why do you ride by Mayfield?"

  "Because he waits for me there."

  "Why, Jack?"

  "He has friends to visit----"

  "At Mayfield?"

  "At Pigeon-Wood," I muttered.

  "More gallantry!" she said, tossing her head. "But young men must havetheir fling, and I am not jealous of Betsy Browse or of her prettysister, so that you ride not toward Caughnawaga----"

  "What?"

  "To see this rustic beauty, Penelope Grant----"

  "Have I not refused to seek her for you?" I demanded.

  "Yes, but not for yourself, Jack! Curiosity killed a cat and started ayoung man on his travels!"

  Exasperated by her malice I struck my mare's flanks with moccasinedheels; and as I rode out into the darkness Claudia's gaily mocking laughfloated after me on the still, sweet air.