"That is Nick, sure enough!" exclaimed the captain. "The fellow comes at the pace of a runner; or, as if he were the bearer of some important news!"
"The tricks of Saucy Nick are too well known to deceive any here," observed Mrs. Willoughby, who, surrounded by her husband and children, always felt so happy as to deprecate every appearance of danger.
"These savages will keep that pace for hours at a time," observed the chaplain; "a circumstance that has induced some naturalists to fancy a difference in the species, if not in the genus."
"Is he chub or tom-cod, Woods?" asked the captain, throwing back on the other all he recollected of the previous discourse.
"Nay," observed Mrs. Willoughby, anxiously, "I _do_ think he may have some intelligence! It is now more than a twelvemonth since we have seen Nick."
"It is more than twice twelvemonth, my dear; I have not seen the fellow's face since I denied him the keg of rum for his 'discovery' of another beaver pond. He has tried to sell me a new pond every season since the purchase of this."
"Do you think he took serious offence, Hugh, at that refusal? If so, would it not be better to give him what he asks?"
"I have thought little about it, and care less, my dear. Nick and I know each other pretty well. It is an acquaintance of thirty years' standing, and one that has endured trials by flood and field, and even by the horse-whip. No less than three times have I been obliged to make these salutary applications to Nick's back, with my own hands; though it is, now, more than ten years since a blow has passed between us."
"Does a savage ever forgive a blow?" asked the chaplain, with a grave air, and a look of surprise.
"I fancy a _savage_ is quite as apt to forgive it, as a _civilized_ man, Woods. To you, who have served so long in His Majesty's army, a blow, in the way of punishment, can be no great novelty."
"Certainly not, as respects the soldiers; but I did not know Indians were ever flogged."
"That is because you never happened to be present at the ceremony--but, this is Nick, sure enough; and by his trot I begin to think the fellow has some message, or news."
"How old is the man, captain? Does an Indian never break down?"
"Nick must be fairly fifty, now. I have known him more than half that period, and he was an experienced, and, to own the truth, a brave and skilful warrior, when we first met. I rate him fifty, every day of it."