American fiction -- 19th century; Historical fiction; Indians of North America -- Fiction
This said, the girl covered her face with both her hands, and sunk on a
stool, as if afraid to be a witness of that which was to follow. As for
le Bourdon, he did not delay a moment, but passed out of the cabin by a
second door, that opened in its rear. There were the two barrels, and
by their side an axe. His first impulse was to dash in the heads of
the casks where they stood; but a moment's reflection told him that the
odor, so near the cabin, would be unpleasant to every one, and might
have a tendency to exasperate the owner of the liquor. He cast about
him, therefore, for the means of removing the casks, in order to stave
them, at a distance from the dwelling.
Fortunately, the cabin of Whiskey Centre stood on the brow of a sharp
descent, at the bottom of which ran a brawling brook. At another moment,
le Bourdon would have thought of saving the barrels; but time pressed,
and he could not delay. Seizing the barrel next to him, he rolled it
without difficulty to the brow of the declivity, and set it off with
a powerful shove of his foot. It was the half-empty cask, and away it
went, the liquor it contained washing about as it rolled over and over,
until hitting a rock about half-way down the declivity, the hoops gave
way, when the staves went over the little precipice, and the water of
the stream was tumbling through all that remained of the cask, at the
next instant. A slight exclamation of delight behind him caused the
bee-hunter to look round, and he saw Margery watching his movement
with an absorbed interest. Her smile was one of joy, not unmingled
with terror; and she rather whispered than said aloud--“The other--the
other--THAT is full--be quick; there is no time to lose.” The bee-hunter
seized the second cask and rolled it toward the brow of the rocks. It
was not quite as easily handled as the other barrel, but his strength
sufficed, and it was soon bounding down the declivity after its
companion. The second cask hit the same rock as the first, whence it
leaped off the precipice, and, aided by its greater momentum, it was
literally dashed in pieces at its base.
Not only was this barrel broken into fragments, but its hoops and staves
were carried down the torrent, driving before them those of the sister
cask, until the whole were swept into the lake, which was some distance
from the cabin.
“That job is well done!” exclaimed le Bourdon, when the last fragment of
the wreck was taken out of sight. “No man will ever turn himself into a
beast by means of that liquor.”
“God be praised!” murmured Margery. “He is SO different, stranger, when
he has been drinking, from what he is when he has not! You have been
sent by Providence to do us this good.”
“I can easily believe that, for it is so with us all. But you must
not call me stranger, sweet Margery; for, now that you and I have this
secret between us, I am a stranger no longer.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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