“Pretty well that, sir, for a red-skin,” said Joyce, smiling “If there isn’t white blood, ay, and Yankee blood in that chap’s arm, I’ll give him some of my own to help colour it.  Step this way, your honour—­only a foot or two—­there, sir; by looking through the opening just above the spot where that very make-believe Injin is scattering his chips as if they were so many kernels of corn that he was tossing to the chickens, you will get a sight of the Hut.”

The fact was so.  By altering his own position a little on the rock, Captain Willoughby got a full view of the entire buildings of the Knoll.  It is true, he could not see the lawn without the works, nor quite all of the stockade, but the whole of the western wing, or an entire side-view of the dwellings, was obtained.  Everything seemed as tranquil and secure, in and around them, as if they vegetated in a sabbath in the wilderness.  There was something imposing even, in the solemn silence of their air, and the captain now saw that if he had been struck, and rendered uneasy by the mystery that accompanied the inaction and quiet of his invaders, they, in their turns, might experience some such sensations as they gazed on the repose of the Hut, and the apparent security of its garrison.  But for Joel’s desertion, indeed, and the information he had carried with him, there could be little doubt that the stranger must have felt the influence of such doubts to a very material extent.  Alas! as things were, it was not probable they could be long imposed on, by any seeming calm.

Captain Willoughby felt a reluctance to tear himself away from the spectacle of that dwelling which contained so many that were dear to him.  Even Joyce gazed at the house with pleasure, for it had been his quarters, now, so many years, and he had looked forward to the time when he should breathe his last in it.  Connected with his old commander by a tie that was inseparable, so far as human wishes could control human events, it was impossible that the serjeant could go from the place where they had left so many precious beings almost in the keeping of Providence, at a moment like that, altogether without emotion.  While each was thus occupied in mind, there was a perfect stillness.  The men of the party had been so far drilled, as to speak in low voices, and nothing they said was audible on the rock.  The axes alone broke the silence of the woods, and to ears so accustomed to their blows, they offered no intrusion.  In the midst of this eloquent calm, the bushes of the rock rustled, as it might be with the passage of a squirrel, or a serpent.  Of the last the country had but few, and they of the most innocent kind, while the former abounded.  Captain Willoughby turned, expecting to see one of these little restless beings, when his gaze encountered a swarthy face, and two glowing eyes, almost within reach of his arm.  That this was a real Indian was beyond dispute, and the crisis admitting of no delay, the old officer drew a dirk, and had already raised his arm to strike, when Joyce arrested the blow.