Satanstoe; Or, the Littlepage Manuscripts. A Tale of the ColonyCooper, James Fenimore
General
Satanstoe; Or, the Littlepage Manuscripts. A Tale of the Colony
Cooper, James Fenimore
Antirent War, N.Y., 1839-1846 -- Fiction
At the southern termination of the lake, however, there was an opening in
the forest of considerable extent; and one that had been so thoroughly made
as to leave few or no trees. From this point we were distant several miles,
and that distance necessarily rendered objects indistinct; though we had
little difficulty in perceiving the ruins of extensive fortifications. A
thousand white specks, we now ascertained to be tents, for the works were
all that remained of Fort William Henry, and there lay encamped the army
of Abercrombie; much the largest force that had then ever collected in
America, under the colours of England. History has since informed us that
this army contained the formidable number of sixteen thousand men. Hundreds
of boats, large batteaux, that were capable of carrying forty or fifty men,
were moving about in front of the encampment, and, remote as we were, it
was not impossible to discover the signs of preparation, and of an early
movement. The Indian had not deceived us thus far, at least, but had shown
himself an intelligent judge of what was going on, as well as a faithful
guide.
We were to pass the night on the mountain. Our beds were none of the best,
as the reader may suppose, and our cover slight; yet I do not remember to
have opened my eyes from the moment they were closed, until I awoke in the
morning. The fatigue of a forced march did that for us which down cannot
obtain for the voluptuary, and we all slept as profoundly as children.
Consciousness returned to me, by means of a gentle shake of the shoulder,
which proceeded from Susquesus. On arising, I found the Indian still near
me, his countenance, for the first time since I had known him, expressing
something like an animated pleasure. He had awoke none of the others, and
he signed for me to follow him, without arousing either of my companions.
Why I had been thus particularly selected for the scene that succeeded,
I cannot say, unless the Onondago's native sagacity had taught him to
distinguish between the educations and feelings of us three young men. So
it was, however, and I left the rude shelter we had prepared for the night,
alone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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