The German Pioneers: A Tale of the Mohawk — John Shaqi
The German Pioneers: A Tale of the MohawkSpielhagen, Friedrich
General
The German Pioneers: A Tale of the Mohawk
Spielhagen, Friedrich
Germans -- New York (State) -- Fiction; Mohawk River Valley (N.Y.) -- Fiction
Then they hastened over the deck. Catherine nodded tearfully to one and
another. She could not speak. Her heart was too full for speech. No one
returned her silent farewell, except with dumb and hopeless looks which
cut her to the heart. On the long and terrible journey from her home
until now, according to her strength and beyond her strength, she had
tried to mitigate the boundless wretchedness around her. She could do
no more than leave the hapless creatures to their fate. Alas! what a
fate awaited those who were here cast on a strange shore like the
scattered fragments of a wreck that has been the dreadful sport of the
waves. Tears of pity dimmed her eyes. Her senses forsook her. When,
holding her bundle of clothing in her hand, she felt her feet standing
on solid ground, she knew not how she had got off the ship.
Catherine said nothing, but in her inmost heart she cried out again and
again: "God be praised!"
CHAPTER III
The setting sun, which hung over the forest sea of Canada Creek, poured
its purple beams over the travelers. They had just emerged from the
woods through which they had been going the whole day by solitary,
narrow Indian trails. At their feet lay the valley, filled with roseate
evening mist, following the windings of the creek.
Lambert stopped the strong-limbed horse which he was leading by the
bridle as they were ascending the valley, and said to his companion:
"This is Canada Creek, and that is our house."
"Where?" asked Catherine.
Leaning over the saddle and protecting her eyes from the sun with her
hand she eagerly looked in the direction which the young man had
indicated.
"There," said he, "toward the north, where the creek appears. Do you
see it?"
"Now I do," said Catherine.
At this moment the horse, with expanded nostrils, snorted, and suddenly
leapt sideways. The unprepared rider lost her balance and would have
fallen off had not her companion, by a quick spring, caught her in his
arms.
"It is nothing," said he, as she slid down to the ground. "Old Hans
acts as if he had never before seen a snake. Are you not ashamed of
yourself, old fellow? So--keep quiet, so!" He patted the frightened
horse on his short, thick neck, stripped off the bridle and tied him to
a sapling.
"You must have been terribly frightened," said he. His voice and hands
shook while he buckled on the pillion which had become displaced.
"Oh, no," said Catherine.
She had seated herself on the root of a tree, and looked over the
valley where now, over the luxuriant meadow which followed the course
of the stream, a fog began to rise. Yonder the sun was just dipping
into the emerald, forest sea, and the golden flames on the trunks,
boughs and tops of the great trees were gradually fading away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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