"What was the other part?"

"To insure the consummation of the match between Avis and young Elwood, which now seems in fair progress, but which would be liable to be broken off, if his family should continue to be unfriendly to me."

"Why, that was the thing I could understand least of all. The young man is well enough, I suppose, but I thought you had looked to have Avis make more of herself, and do better for us. She is still young, and we don't know what chances she may have. If she and the young man should keep on intimate, and set their hearts on it, I don't know that I should oppose it much; but what object we can have in helping it on, I can't, for the life of me, see. I have not said a word against it, because I saw that you were for it. But, if I had been governed by my own notions, I should have sooner discouraged than helped it on."

"I suspected so; and, for that reason, as well as others, I see I must tell you a secret, which the Elwoods themselves don't know, and which I meant should never pa.s.s my lips; and, when I tell it to you, see that it never pa.s.ses yours. That young man, Claud Elwood, whom you think so ordinary a match, is heir to a large property. A will is already executed making him so."

"Is that so, Gaut?"

"Yes, I have known it for months. I made the discovery before I decided to move here."

"It is a wonder how you could keep it from me."

"Humph! It is a greater wonder how I came to tell you at all, and I fear I shall yet repent it; but things had come to a pa.s.s that seemed to make it necessary."

"But who is the man, and where, who is going to give the young man such a property?"

"It is not for you to know. I have told you enough for all my purposes. And this brings me back to your first question, when I admitted that there was one thing which had not gone to my liking. There _was_, indeed, one thing that disturbed and vexed me; and that was the discovery I made, over there, today, that Elwood's wife is an enemy to me. I contrived all ways to get speech with her, but she studiously avoided giving me a chance, nor was I able once even to catch her eye, that I might give her a friendly nod of recognition. I know she never wished me about, in former times, but I then attributed her coldness to the pride of the rich over the poor. But I now think it was because she hated me. I am satisfied she is an enemy, at heart; and will, for that reason, prove a secret and I fear dangerous opposer to a match which will connect me with her family, unless something is done to reconcile her."

"How can that be done?"

"Perhaps _you_ can do something. We start, in about a fortnight, on the fall hunt,--both the Elwoods, myself, and others. When we are gone, you can go down into that neighborhood, get acquainted with some of the women, and get them to call with you on Mrs. Elwood; and, if Avis could be made to go and see her, so much the better. She would make an impression without trying. You would have to manage, but how, I am not now prepared to decide.

I will think of it, and you may, and we will talk it over again. I have told you this, now, that you might understand the situation of affairs; and the object, which you will now see, is worth playing for. And, if we can carry this last point, the last danger will be removed,--unless Claud himself proves fickle."

"I guess there will not be much danger of that in _this_ settlement. What girl is there that he could think of in comparison with Avis?"

"I think there is none; and still, there is one whom I would rather he would not see."

"Who can that be, I should like to know?"

"She is the daughter, or is claimed to be, of an old Indian chief, called Wenongonet, who lives up the lakes, and was once a man of some consequence, both with Indians and whites."

"An Indian girl! Fudge!"

"You might alter that tune, if you should see her. She is white as you are, and has, most of the time, of late years, lived in some of the old settlements, been schooled, and so on. I saw her, soon after we came here, with another woman, at the south end of the lake, where she was visiting in the family of one of the settlers, and I inquired her out, as she appeared so much above the common run of girls. But she is courted, they say, by a young educated Indian, called Tomah, from Connecticut-river way, where I used to see him. He _ought_ to be able to take care of her. But hark! what was that? It sounded like the trotting of some heavy horse. I'll see."

So saying, Gaut rose and went to the window, when, after casting a searching look out into the road, and pausing a moment, in evident doubt and surprise at what met his gaze, he muttered: "The devil is always at hand when you are talking about him; for that must be the very fellow,--Tomah himself! But what a rig-out! Wife, look here."

The woman promptly came to the window, when her eyes were greeted with the appearance of a smart-looking and jauntily-equipped young Indian, mounted on the back of a stately, antlered moose, that, by some contrivance answering to a bridle, he was about bringing to a stand in the road, opposite to the house. Without heeding the exclamations of surprise and questions of his wife, who had never seen an animal of the kind, Gaut stepped out of the door, and, after pausing long enough to satisfy himself that he was not known to the other, said, after the distant greeting customary among strangers had been exchanged:

"That is a strange horse you are travelling on, friend."

"No matter that, when he carry you well," replied the Indian, whose language was a little idiomatic, notwithstanding his education.

"Perhaps not; but I should think he would be a hard trotter for most riders."

"Moose don't care for that: he say, he carry you ten miles an hour, you not the one to complain: if you no like, you no ride."

"How did you tame him to be so manageable?"

"Caught him a little calf, four years ago; trained him young to mind halter; then ox-work, horse-work. This year ride him. No trouble, you let him enough to eat."

"Where did you catch him?"

"Over the mountain. Live there. My name John Tomah. Been here to hunt some, but not see you before. Another man live in this house last spring."

"Yes, I am a new-comer. But I have heard some of the settlers speak of you, I think. You are the Indian that has been to college?"

"Yes, been there some, but in the woods more. Love to hunt, catch beaver, sable, and such things. Come here to hunt now, soon as time. But must have moose kept when off hunting: thought the man lived here do that. May be you keep him, while I come back. Pay you, all right."

"Yes, if I could; but where could I keep him? He would jump any pasture or yard fence there is here, and then run away, would he not?"

"No. Stay, after week or two, and get wonted, same as horse or cow. I go to work, make yard, keep him in a while, and feed him with gra.s.s or browse. I tend him first. You keep him,--you keep me, till go hunting; then get boy.

Pay well, much as you suit."

Gaut Gurley never acted without a strong secret motive. He had been intently studying the young Indian during the conversation just detailed, with a view of forming an opinion how far his subservience could be secured; and, appearing to become satisfied on this point, and believing the first great step for making him what was desired would be accomplished by yielding to his request gracefully, however much family inconvenience it might occasion, Gaut now turned cordially to him, and said:

"Yes, Tomah, I will do it. I like your looks, and I will do it for _you_, but wouldn't for anybody else. We can get along with your animal, somehow; and you shall stay, too, till our company start on our hunt, and then you shall go with us. I will see that you have fair play. I will be your friend; and perhaps I may want a good turn of you some time."

"Like that; go with you; show you how catch beaver. Do all I can."

"Very well; and perhaps I can help you in some way. You have an affair that you feel a peculiar interest in, with somebody on the upper lake, and--"

"You know that?" interrupted the startled but evidently not displeased Indian.

"Yes, I have heard something about it."

"But how you help there?"

"O, I can contrive a way for you to make the matter work as you wish, if you will only persevere."

"Persevere? Ah, means keep trying. Yes, do that; but she don't talk right, now; perhaps, will, you help, then we be great friends, sure."

The treaty being thus concluded, the gratified young Indian dismounted, with his rifle and pack, containing his blanket, hunting-suit, etc., which he carried before him, laid across the shoulder of his novel steed; and, under the guidance of Gaut, he led the animal into the cow-yard, where he was tied and fed, and the fence, already made high to exclude the wolves, as usual among first settlers, was topped out by laying on a few additional poles, so as to prevent the possibility of his escape. This being done, Gaut conducted his new-found friend into the house, and introduced him, to his wife and also to his daughter, who had by this time returned, as the young Indian that had been to college, but still had a liking for the woods.

"I have often thought I should feel interested in seeing an educated native of the forest," remarked Avis, after the civilities of the introduction had been exchanged. "Books, when you became able to read and understand them,"

she continued, turning to the Indian, "books must have opened a new world to you, and the many new and curious things you found in them must have been exceedingly gratifying to you, Mr. Tomah."

"Yes, many curious things in books," replied Tomah, indifferently.

"And also much valuable knowledge?" rejoined Avis, interrogatively.

"Valuable enough to some folks, suppose," replied the other, with the air of one speaking on a subject in which he felt no particular interest.

"Lawyers make money; preachers get good pay for talking what they learn in books; so doctors."

"But surely," persisted the former, who, though disappointed in his replies, yet still expected to see, if she could draw him out, the naturally shrewd mind of the native made brilliant by the light of science, "surely you consider an education a good thing for all, giving those who receive it a great advantage over those who do not?"

"Yes, education good thing," responded Tomah, his stolid countenance beginning to lighten up at the idea which now struck him as involving the chief if not the sole benefit of his scientific acquirements; "yes, education good, very good, sometime. Instance: I go to Boston with my moose next winter; show him for pay, one, two days; then reckon up money--add; then reckon up expenses--subtract; tell how much I make. Make much, stay; make little, go to other place. Yes, education good thing."