Virginia -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
The pioneer, his wife and children, watched them go. One of the
gentlemen turned in his saddle and waved his hand. Alce curtsied, but
Molly, at whom he had looked, saw him not, because her eyes were full
of tears. The company reached and entered a cleft between the hills; a
moment, and men and horses were lost to sight; a little longer, and not
even a sound could be heard.
It was as though they had taken the sunshine with them; for a cloud had
come up from the west, and the sun was hidden. All at once the valley
seemed a sombre and lonely place, and the hills with their whispering
trees looked menacingly down upon the clearing, the cabin, and the five
simple English folk. The glory of the day was gone. After a little more
of idle staring, the frontiersman and his son returned to their work in
the forest, while Alce and Molly went indoors to their spinning, and
Audrey sat down upon the doorstep to listen to the hurry of voices in
the trees, and to watch the ever-deepening shadow of the cloud above
the valley.
CHAPTER II
THE COURT OF THE ORPHAN
An hour before dusk found the company that had dined in the valley
making their way up the dry bed of a stream, through a gorge which
cleft a line of precipitous hills. On either hand the bank rose
steeply, giving no footing for man or beast. The road was a difficult
one; for here a tall, fern-crowned rock left but a narrow passage
between itself and the shaggy hillside, and there smooth and slippery
ledges, mounting one above the other, spanned the way. In places,
too, the drought had left pools of dark, still water, difficult to
avoid, and not infrequently the entire party must come to a halt while
the axemen cleared from the path a fallen birch or hemlock. Every
man was afoot, none caring to risk a fall upon the rocks or into
the black, cold water of the pools. The hoofs of the horses and the
spurs of the men clanked against the stones; now and then one of the
heavily laden packhorses stumbled and was sworn at, and once a warning
rattle, issuing from a rank growth of fern on the hillside, caused
a momentary commotion. There was no more laughter, or whistling, or
calling from the van to the rear guard. The way was arduous, and every
man must watch his footsteps; moreover, the last rays of the sun were
gilding the hilltops above them, and the level that should form their
camping-place must be reached before the falling of the night.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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