Such license and freedom displeased me. I had never before observed it in our town or among those who came to the Hall. However, I now saw that I could not with dignity notice either their boorish gallantry, their mischief, or the songs they were pleased to bawl out in the street.
I therefore passed them in silence, and, loosening bridle, set Warlock at a gallop for home.
I did not comprehend it at the time; indeed, the whole matter passed from my mind ere the lights of the Hall broke out in the blue night. Yet the scene I had witnessed was my first view of the unrest which tormented the whole land, the first symptom of that new fever for which no remedy had yet been found.
It was not yet dawn, though a few birds sang in the darkness around us, as Sir William and I set off for the Cayuga's lodge, which stood beyond the town on a rocky knoll, partly cleared of trees.
The air was cold and without fragrance, for in our country it is the sun that draws the earth's sweetness in early spring.
The stars lighted us through the streets of Johnstown, empty of life save for the muffled watchman dozing in his own lanthorn glow, who roused as he heard us, and shook his damp cloak. And far behind us we heard his sing-song:
"Four o'clock! A cold, fair morn, and all well!"
One inn there was, where the dim bush swung wet and sleek as a clinging bat, and where stale embers of the night's revelry still flickered; for, behind the lighted windows, men were singing, and we heard them as we passed:
"Oh, we're all dry Wi' drinking on't-- We're all dry Wi' drinking on't. The piper kissed The fiddler's wife; And I can't sleep For thinking on't!"
"Starbuck's Inn," muttered Sir William, grimly. "He's a Boston man; they drink no tea there."
And, as we strode on in the darkness, behind us, from the lighted hostelry, came a husky echo of that foolish catch:
So I knew that my buckskin birds were still chirping among us.
But now we were on the stony way and the town sank below us as we climbed towards Quider's lodge, knee-deep in dewy thistles.
The spark of a tiny council fire guided us. Coming nearer we smelled black birch burning, and we saw the long thread of aromatic smoke mounting steadily to the paling stars.