Virginia -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
Between the intruders and the lonely folk, whose nearest neighbors were
twenty miles away, was only a strip of sunny grass, dotted over with
the stumps of trees that had been felled lest they afford cover for
attacking savages. A man, riding at the head of the invading party,
beckoned, somewhat imperiously, to the pioneer; and the latter, still
with his musket in the hollow of his arm, strode across the greensward,
and finding himself in the midst, not of rude traders and rangers,
but of easy, smiling, periwigged gentlemen, handsomely dressed and
accoutred, dropped the butt of his gun upon the ground, and took off
his squirrel-skin cap.
“You are deep in the wilderness, good fellow,” said the man who
had beckoned, and who was possessed of a stately figure, a martial
countenance, and an air of great authority. “How far is it to the
mountains?”
The pioneer stared at the long blue range, cloudlike in the distance.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I hunt to the eastward. Twenty miles,
maybe. You’re never going to climb them?”
“We are come out expressly to do so,” answered the other heartily,
“having a mind to drink the King’s health with our heads in the clouds!
We need another axeman to clear away the fallen trees and break the
nets of grapevine. Wilt go along amongst our rangers yonder, and earn a
pistole and undying fame?”
The woodsman looked from the knot of gentlemen to the troop of hardy
rangers, who, with a dozen ebony servants and four Meherrin Indians,
made up the company. Under charge of the slaves were a number of
packhorses. Thrown across one was a noble deer; a second bore a brace
of wild turkeys and a two-year-old bear, fat and tender; a third had a
legion of pots and pans for the cooking of the woodland cheer; while
the burden of several others promised heart’s content of good liquor.
From the entire troop breathed a most enticing air of gay daring and
good-fellowship. The gentlemen were young and of cheerful countenances;
the rangers in the rear sat their horses and whistled to the
woodpeckers in the sugar-trees; the negroes grinned broadly; even the
Indians appeared a shade less saturnine than usual. The golden sunshine
poured upon them all, and the blue mountains that no Englishman had
ever passed seemed for the moment as soft and yielding as the cloud
that slept along their summits. And no man knew what might be just
beyond the mountains: Frenchmen, certainly, and the great lakes and
the South Sea: but, besides these, might there not be gold, glittering
stones, new birds and beasts and plants, strange secrets of the hills?
It was only westward-ho! for a week or two, with good company and good
drink--
The woodsman shifted from one foot to the other, but his wife, who had
now crossed the grass to his side, had no doubts.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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