The man with the musket sent his voice before him as he approached the
group upon the doorstep: "Alce, woman! What's amiss? I see naught wrong!"
His wife stepped forward to meet him. "There's naught to see, William.
It's to hear. There was a noise. Molly and I heard it, and then we lost
it. There it is again!"
Fronting the cabin, beyond the maize field and the rich green grass and
the placid stream, rose two hills, steep and thickly wooded, and between
them ran a narrow, winding, and rocky pass. Down this gorge, to the
listening pioneer, now came a confused and trampling sound.
"It is iron striking against the rocks!" he announced. "The hoofs of
horses"-"Iron!" cried his wife. "The horses in Virginia go unshod! And what should
a troop of horse do here, beyond the frontier, where even the rangers
never come?"
The man shook his head, a frown of perplexity upon his bronzed and bearded
face. "It is the sound of the hoofs of horses," he said, "and they are
coming through the pass. Hark!"
A trumpet blew, and there came a noise of laughter. The child pressed
close to her brother's side. "Oh, Robin, maybe 't is the fairies!"
Out from the gloom of the pass into the sunshine of the valley, splashing
through the stream, trampling the long grass, laughing, and calling one
rider to the other, burst a company of fifty horsemen. The trumpet blew
again, and the entire party, drawing rein, stared at the unexpected maize
field, the cabin, and the people about the door.
Between the intruders and the lonely folk, whose nearest neighbors were
twenty miles away, was only a strip of sunny grass, dotted over with the
stumps of trees that had been felled lest they afford cover for attacking
savages. A man, riding at the head of the invading party, beckoned,
somewhat imperiously, to the pioneer; and the latter, still with his
musket in the hollow of his arm, strode across the greensward, and
finding himself in the midst, not of rude traders and rangers, but of
easy, smiling, periwigged gentlemen, handsomely dressed and accoutred,
dropped the butt of his gun upon the ground, and took off his
squirrel-skin cap.
"You are deep in the wilderness, good fellow," said the man who had
beckoned, and who was possessed of a stately figure, a martial
countenance, and an air of great authority. "How far is it to the
mountains?"
The pioneer stared at the long blue range, cloudlike in the distance. "I
don't know," he answered. "I hunt to the eastward. Twenty miles, maybe.
You're never going to climb them?"