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William Henry Hudson - "The Famous Missions of California"

David Widger - "Widger's Quotations from Chesterfield's Letters to his Son"

Frederich Schiller - "The Thirty Years War, Book II."

Andrew Lang - "Letters to Dead Authors"

Gaut Gurley

D >> D. P. Thompson >> Gaut Gurley




"Well, I don't know about that: let us see," said the hunter, turning his
back to the sun, and throwing out one foot as far as he could while keeping
his body perpendicular. "Now my clock, which, for noon on the 21st of June,
or longest day of summer, is the shadow of my head falling on half my foot,
and then passing off beyond it about half an inch each day for the rest of
the season, makes it, as _I_ should calculate the distance between my foot
and the shadow of my head, now evidently receding,--makes it, for this last
day of August, about a quarter past twelve."

"I am but little over half past eleven," said Codman, pulling out and
inspecting an old watch. "Phillips, may be, is thinking of that deer that
he has been promising himself and us for dinner; and, before I take his
calculation on shadows and distances, I should like to know how many inches
he allowed for the hurrying influence of his appetite."

"What nonsense, Comical! But what you mean by it is, I suppose, that I
can't tell the time?"

"Not within half an hour by the sun."

"Why, man, it is the sun that makes the time; and, as that body never gets
out of order or runs down, why not learn to read it, and depend directly
upon it for the hour of the day? If half the time men spend in bothering
over timepieces were devoted to studying the great clock of the heavens,
they need not depend on such uncertain contrivances as common clocks and
watches to know the time of day."

"But how in cloudy weather?"

"Tell the time of day by your feelings. Take note of the state of your
appetite and general feelings at the various hours of the day, when it is
fair and you know the time, and then apply the rule when you have no other
means of judging; and you may thus train yourself, so that you need not be
half an hour out of the way in your reckoning through the whole day."

"Well, supposing it is night?"

"Night is for sleep, and it is no consequence to know the time, except the
time waking. And, as to that, none need be in fault, if they had you
anywhere within two miles to crow for them."

"A regular hit! I own it a hit, Mr. Hunter. But here comes Mr. Elwood: we
will leave the question of the time of day to him."

"We have a correct noon-mark at the house, and the women are probably
right," replied Elwood. "At all events, men who have worked like lions, as
you all have this forenoon, must by this time need refreshment. So, let us
all drop work, and at once be off to dinner."

With such familiar jokes and converse, the light-hearted backwoodsmen threw
off their crocky frocks, and, after washing up at a runlet at hand, marched
off in chatty groups to the house, where they found awaiting their arrival
the well-spread board of their appreciating hostess, this time made more
tempting to their vigorous and healthy appetites by the addition, to the
fine trout of the morning, of the variously-cooked haunches of the hunter's
venison. And, having here done ample justice to their excellent meal, they
again hastened back to their labor in the field, unanimously declaring for
the good husbandman's rule, "Work first and play afterwards," and saying
they would have no rest nor recreation till they had seen the last log of
the slash disposed of. And with such animation did they resume their
labors, and with such vigor continue to apply themselves in carrying out
their resolution, and in hastening the hour of its fulfilment, that by the
middle of the afternoon their task was ended; and the gratified Mr. Elwood
had the satisfaction of seeing the formidable-looking slash of the morning
converted into a comparatively smooth field, requiring only the action of
the fire on the log heaps, with a few days' tending, to make it fit for the
seed and harrow.

"Come, boys," said the hunter to the company, now all within speaking
distance, except two or three who had somehow disappeared; "come, boys," he
repeated, after pausing to see the last log thrown up in its place, "let us
gather up here near the middle of the lot. Comical Codman and some others,
I have noticed, have been putting their heads together, and I kinder
surmise we may now soon expect some sort of christening ceremony of the
field we have walked through in such fine style to-day; and, if they make
out any thing worth the while, it may be well to give them a good cheer or
two, to wind off with."

While the men were taking their stand at the spot designated by the hunter,
Codman was seen mounting a conspicuous logheap at the southerly end of the
field; and two more men, at the same time, made their appearance on the
tops of different piles on opposite sides of the lot, and nearly abreast of
the place where the expectant company were collected and standing, silently
awaiting the commencement of the promised ceremony. Presently one of the
two last-named, with a preliminary flourish of his hand, slowly and loudly
began:

"Since we see the last logs fairly roll'd,
And log-heaps full fifty, all told,
We should deem it a shame
If so handsome and well-cleared a field,
Bidding fair for a hundred-fold yield,
Be afforded no name."

To this, the man standing on the opposite pile, in the same loud and
measured tone promptly responded:

"Then a name we will certainly give it,
If you'll listen, and all well receive it,
As justly you may:

We will call it the thing it will make,
We will name it the Pride of the Lake,
Or the Job of a Day."

Before the last words of this unique duet had died on the ear, Comical
Codman on his distant perch straightened up, and, triumphantly clapping his
sides like the boastful bird whose crowing he could so wonderfully imitate,
raised his shrill, loud, and long-drawn _kuk-kuk-ke-o-ho_ in a volume of
sound that thrilled through the forest and sent its repeating echoes from
hill to hill along the distant borders of the lake.

"There, the dog has got the start of us!" exclaimed the hunter, joining
the rest of the company in their surprise and laughter at the prompt
action of the trapper as well as at the striking character of his
performance,--"fairly the start of us; but let's follow him up close, boys.
So here goes for the new name!"

And the prolonged "hurra! hurra! hurra!" burst from the lips of the
strong-voiced woodmen in three tremendous cheers for the "_Pride of the
Lake and the Job of a Day_."

All the labors and performances of the field being now over, the company
gathered up their tools, and by common consent moved towards the house,
where, it was understood, an hour or so, before starting for their
respective homes, should be spent in rest, chatting with the women, or
other recreation, and a consultation also be held, among those interested,
for forming a company, fixing on the time, and making other arrangements
for the contemplated trapping and hunting expedition of the now
fast-approaching season.

As the company were proceeding along promiscuously towards the house, Gaut
Gurley, who had thus far through the day manifested no desire for any
particular conversation with Mr. Elwood, nor in any way deported himself so
as to lead others to infer a former acquaintance between them, now suddenly
fell in by his side; when, contriving to detain him till the rest had
passed on out of sight, he paused in his steps and said:

"Well, Elwood, I told you in the morning, you know, that we would do the
work first and the talking afterwards. The work has now been done, and I
hope to your satisfaction."

"Yes--O yes--entirely," replied Elwood, hesitating in his doubt about what
was to follow from the other, whose unexpected conduct and stand for his
benefit he hardly knew how to construe. "Yes, the neighbors have done me a
substantial favor, and you all deserve my hearty thanks."

"I was not fishing for thanks," returned Gaut, half-contemptuously, "but
wished a few words with you on private matters which concern only you and
myself. And, to come to the point at once, I would ascertain, in the first
place, if you know whether you and I are understood, in this settlement, to
be old acquaintances or new ones?"

"New ones, I suppose, of course, unless it be known to the contrary through
your means. _I_ have not said a word about it, nor have my family, I feel
confident," replied Elwood, demurely.

"Very well; our former acquaintance is then wholly unsuspected here. Let it
remain so. But have you ever hinted to any of the settlers what you may
have known or heard about me, or any former passages of my life, which
occurred when I used to operate in this section or elsewhere?"

"No, not one word."

"All is well, then. As you have kept and continue to keep my secrets, so
shall yours be kept. It is a dozen or fifteen years since I have been in
this section at all. It is filling up with new men. There are but two
persons now in the settlement that can ever have seen or known me. And they
will not disturb me."

"Then there _are_ two that _have_ known you? Who can they be?"

"One is Wenongonet, an old Indian chief, as he calls himself, still living
on one of the upper lakes, they say, but too old to ramble or attend to
anybody's business but his own. The other is Phillips, the hunter."

"Phillips! Phillips, did you say? Why, as much as he has been at our house,
he has never dropt a word from which one could infer that you were not a
perfect stranger to him."

"I did not suppose he had. Phillips is a peaceable, close-mouthed fellow;
pretends not to know any thing about anybody, when he thinks the parties
concerned would rather have him ignorant; keeps a secret by never letting
anybody know he has one; and never means to cross another man's path. I can
get along with _him_, too. And the only question now is whether _you_ and I
can live together in the same settlement."

"It will probably be your fault if we can't. I shall make war on no one."

"My fault! Why I _wish_ to be on good terms with you; and yet, Elwood, you
feel out of sorts with me, and, in spite of all I can do, seem disposed to
keep yourself aloof."

"If I do seem so, it may be because the past teaches me that the best way
to avoid quarrels is to avoid intimacies. You know how we last parted in
that gambling-room. I had no business to be there, I admit; but that was no
excuse for your treatment."

"Treatment! Why, Elwood, is it possible you have been under a
misapprehension about that, all this time?" responded Gaut, with that
peculiar wheedling manner which he so well knew how to assume when he
wished to carry his point with another. "My object then was to save the
money for you and me, so that we could divide it satisfactorily between
ourselves. I was angry enough at those other fellows, whom I saw getting
all your money in that way, I confess; and, in what I said, I was whipping
them over your shoulders. I thought you understood it."

"I didn't understand it in that way," replied Elwood, surprised and
evidently staggered at the bold and unexpected statement. "I didn't take
you so: could that be all you intended?"

"Certainly it was," resumed Gaut, in the same insinuating tone. "Had I
supposed it necessary, I should have seen you and explained it at the time.
But it is explained now; so let it go, and every thing go that has been
unpleasant between us; let us forget all, and henceforth be on good terms.
Our children, as you may have suspected, seem intent on being friends; and
why should not we be friends also? It will be a gratification to them, and
we can easily make it the means of benefiting each other. You know how much
I once did in helping you to property,--I can do so again, if we will but
understand each other. What say you, Elwood? Will you establish the treaty,
and give me your hand upon it?"

Elwood trembled as the other bent his fascinating gaze upon him, hesitated,
began to demur feebly; but, being artfully answered, soon yielded and
extended his hand, which Gaut seized and shook heartily; when at the
suggestion of the latter they separated and proceeded by different courses,
so that they might not be seen together, to join the company at the house,
whom they found, as they expected, in consultation about the proposed
trapping and hunting expedition to the upper lakes, the time of starting,
and the names and number of those volunteering to join the association,
only remaining to be fixed and ascertained. That time was finally fixed on
the 15th of September, and the company was formed to consist of the two
Elwoods, Phillips, Gurley, Codman, and such others as might thereafter wish
to join them. This being settled, they broke up and departed for their
respective homes.




CHAPTER X.


"All good to me is lost;
Evil, be thou my good"--

The next scene in the slowly unfolding panorama of our story opens at the
house of Gaut Gurley, on the banks of the Magalloway. Gaut reached home, on
the evening of the logging bee, about sunset; and, having put out his team,
entered his house, where he found his wife alone, his daughter being absent
on a visit to a neighbor. Contrary to what might have been expected, after
the favorable impression he had so evidently made on the settlers that day,
and the attainment of the still more important object with him, the
regaining of his old fatal influence over Elwood, he appeared morose and
dissatisfied. Something had not worked to his liking in the complicated
machinery of his plans, and he showed his vexation so palpably as soon to
attract the attention of his submissive but by no means unobservant wife,
who, after a while, plucked up the courage to remark:

"What is the case, Gaut? Have you been working yourself to death for those
Elwoods, to-day, or has something gone wrong with you, that makes you look
so sour this evening?"

"I have worked hard enough, God knows; but that I intended, for I had
objects in view, most of which I think I have accomplished, but--"

"But not all, I suppose you would say?"

"Well, yes, there is one thing that has not gone exactly to suit me, over
there."

"What is that, Gaut?"

"It is of no consequence that you should know it. If I should name it, you
would not see its bearing on my plans, I presume."

"Perhaps not, for I don't know what your plans are, these days. I used to
be able to guess out the objects you had in view, before you came here,
whether you told me or not. But, since you have been in this settlement, I
have been at loss to know what you are driving at; I can't understand your
movements at all."

"What movements do you mean, woman?"

"All of them; but particularly those that have to do with the Elwoods."

"What is there in my course toward them, since they came here, that you
can't understand?"

"Well, I'll tell you, Gaut. When you believed Elwood to be rich, I could
easily see that you thought it would be an object to bring about an
acquaintance between his son and only heir, and our Avis; and I knew you
was, those days, studying how it could be done, and I always suspected that
you in some way disposed of that picture of her for the purpose, instead of
sending it to your relations, and----"

"And what?" exclaimed Gaut, turning fiercely on his wife. "Suspected! What
business had you to suspect? And you told Avis what you thought, I
suppose?"

"Not a word, never one word; for I knew she was so proud and particular,
that, if she mistrusted any thing of that kind to have been done, she would
flounce in a minute. No, I never hinted it to her, or anybody else, and it
was guesswork, after all," replied the abashed wife, in a deprecating
tone,--she having been tempted, by the unusual mood which her stern husband
had manifested for discussing his private affairs with her, to venture to
speak much more freely than was her wont.

"Well, see that you don't hint any thing about that, nor any thing else you
may take it into your silly head to guess about my objects," rejoined the
other, in a somewhat mollified tone. "But now go on with what you were
going to say."

"Well, I could understand your course before Elwood failed; but, when he
did, I could see no object, either in following him here, or having any
thing particular to do with him, or any of his family. But you seized on
the first chance, after we came here, to court them, and have followed it
up; first, in the affair of the young man and Avis, and then, in drumming
up the whole settlement in getting up this logging bee for the old man.
Now, Gaut, you don't generally drive matters at this rate without something
in view that will pay; and, as I can see nothing to be gained worth so much
pains, I don't understand it."

"I didn't suppose you did, and it is generally of little consequence
whether you see through my plans or not; but, in this case--"

Here Gaut suddenly paused, rose, and took several turns across the room,
evidently debating with himself how far it was policy to disclose his plans
to his wife; when, appearing to make up his mind, he again seated himself
and resumed:

"Yes, as this is a peculiar case, and coming, perhaps, in part within the
range of a woman's help, if she knows what is wanted, and one which she may
unintentionally hurt, if she don't, I suppose I must give you some insight
into my movements, so that you can manage accordingly, help when you can,
and do no mischief when you can't; as you probably will do, for you well
know the consequences of doing otherwise."

"I will do all I can, if I can understand what you want, and can see any
object in it," meekly responded the woman.

"Well, then, in the first place," resumed the other, "you know how many
years I slaved myself, and what risks I run, to help Elwood make that
fortune; how he threw me off with simple wages, instead of the share I
always intended to have for such hard and dangerous services; and how he
failed, like a fool, before I got it."

"I knew it all."

"Then you can easily imagine how much it went against my grain to be balked
in that manner. At all events, it did; and I soon determined not to give up
the game so, even if that was all. And ascertaining that Elwood, by
allowances made by the creditors to his wife, and sales of furniture which
they allowed the family to retain, brought quite a little sum of money into
the settlement,--enough, at any rate, to pay for his place, put him well
afloat, and make him a man of consequence in such a new place,--I soon made
up my mind on buying and settling, for present purposes, here, too, as we
did."

"Yes, but what do you expect to make here more than in any other new
country? And what can you make out of the Elwoods, more than any other new
settlers?"

"A good deal, if all things work to my mind. There is money to be made
here. I could do well in the fur business alone, and at the worst. And, by
the aid of one who could be made to favor my interests, there is no telling
what could be done. Now, what claim had I on any other settler to be that
one to aid me? On Elwood I had a claim to help _me_ to property in turn;
and I determined he should do it. But he must first be brought into the
traces. He has got out with me, and must be reconciled before I can do much
with him."

"Well, I should think he ought to be by this time, after what you have been
doing for him, without his asking."

"Without asking? Why, that was just the way to do it. As I calculated, he
was taken by surprise, disarmed, and yielded; so that object is
accomplished, as well as making the right impression on the other settlers
by beating them at their own work."

"I begin to understand, now."

"You will understand more, soon; that was only part of my object."

"What was the other part?"

"To insure the consummation of the match between Avis and young Elwood,
which now seems in fair progress, but which would be liable to be broken
off, if his family should continue to be unfriendly to me."

"Why, that was the thing I could understand least of all. The young man is
well enough, I suppose, but I thought you had looked to have Avis make more
of herself, and do better for us. She is still young, and we don't know
what chances she may have. If she and the young man should keep on
intimate, and set their hearts on it, I don't know that I should oppose it
much; but what object we can have in helping it on, I can't, for the life
of me, see. I have not said a word against it, because I saw that you were
for it. But, if I had been governed by my own notions, I should have sooner
discouraged than helped it on."

"I suspected so; and, for that reason, as well as others, I see I must tell
you a secret, which the Elwoods themselves don't know, and which I meant
should never pass my lips; and, when I tell it to you, see that it never
passes yours. That young man, Claud Elwood, whom you think so ordinary a
match, is heir to a large property. A will is already executed making him
so."

"Is that so, Gaut?"

"Yes, I have known it for months. I made the discovery before I decided to
move here."

"It is a wonder how you could keep it from me."

"Humph! It is a greater wonder how I came to tell you at all, and I fear I
shall yet repent it; but things had come to a pass that seemed to make it
necessary."

"But who is the man, and where, who is going to give the young man such a
property?"

"It is not for you to know. I have told you enough for all my purposes. And
this brings me back to your first question, when I admitted that there was
one thing which had not gone to my liking. There _was_, indeed, one thing
that disturbed and vexed me; and that was the discovery I made, over there,
today, that Elwood's wife is an enemy to me. I contrived all ways to get
speech with her, but she studiously avoided giving me a chance, nor was I
able once even to catch her eye, that I might give her a friendly nod of
recognition. I know she never wished me about, in former times, but I then
attributed her coldness to the pride of the rich over the poor. But I now
think it was because she hated me. I am satisfied she is an enemy, at
heart; and will, for that reason, prove a secret and I fear dangerous
opposer to a match which will connect me with her family, unless something
is done to reconcile her."

"How can that be done?"

"Perhaps _you_ can do something. We start, in about a fortnight, on the
fall hunt,--both the Elwoods, myself, and others. When we are gone, you can
go down into that neighborhood, get acquainted with some of the women, and
get them to call with you on Mrs. Elwood; and, if Avis could be made to go
and see her, so much the better. She would make an impression without
trying. You would have to manage, but how, I am not now prepared to decide.
I will think of it, and you may, and we will talk it over again. I have
told you this, now, that you might understand the situation of affairs; and
the object, which you will now see, is worth playing for. And, if we can
carry this last point, the last danger will be removed,--unless Claud
himself proves fickle."

"I guess there will not be much danger of that in _this_ settlement. What
girl is there that he could think of in comparison with Avis?"

"I think there is none; and still, there is one whom I would rather he
would not see."

"Who can that be, I should like to know?"

"She is the daughter, or is claimed to be, of an old Indian chief, called
Wenongonet, who lives up the lakes, and was once a man of some consequence,
both with Indians and whites."

"An Indian girl! Fudge!"

"You might alter that tune, if you should see her. She is white as you are,
and has, most of the time, of late years, lived in some of the old
settlements, been schooled, and so on. I saw her, soon after we came here,
with another woman, at the south end of the lake, where she was visiting in
the family of one of the settlers, and I inquired her out, as she appeared
so much above the common run of girls. But she is courted, they say, by a
young educated Indian, called Tomah, from Connecticut-river way, where I
used to see him. He _ought_ to be able to take care of her. But hark! what
was that? It sounded like the trotting of some heavy horse. I'll see."

So saying, Gaut rose and went to the window, when, after casting a
searching look out into the road, and pausing a moment, in evident doubt
and surprise at what met his gaze, he muttered: "The devil is always at
hand when you are talking about him; for that must be the very
fellow,--Tomah himself! But what a rig-out! Wife, look here."

The woman promptly came to the window, when her eyes were greeted with the
appearance of a smart-looking and jauntily-equipped young Indian, mounted
on the back of a stately, antlered moose, that, by some contrivance
answering to a bridle, he was about bringing to a stand in the road,
opposite to the house. Without heeding the exclamations of surprise and
questions of his wife, who had never seen an animal of the kind, Gaut
stepped out of the door, and, after pausing long enough to satisfy himself
that he was not known to the other, said, after the distant greeting
customary among strangers had been exchanged:

"That is a strange horse you are travelling on, friend."

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