Chapter 27

"My father had a daughter lov'd a man,
As it might be perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship."

_Viola_.

As the reader must, by this time, have a pretty accurate idea of our manner
of marching in the wilderness, I shall not dwell on this part of our
proceedings any longer. On we went, and at a rapid rate, the guide having
abandoned the common route, which had got to be a pretty visible trail, and
taking another on which, as it appeared to me, he had no other clue than an
instinct. Guert had told Susquesus of the ravine, and how desirable it
was to reach it, getting for an answer a quiet nod of the head, and a low
ejaculation. It was understood, however, that we were to approach Herman
Mordaunt's fortress, by that avenue.

It was past the turn of the day when we quitted Mooseridge, and none of us
hoped to reach Ravensnest before dark. It fell out, as we expected, night
drawing its veil over the scene, about half an hour before the Trackless
plunged into the northern, or forest-end of the ravine. Thus far, we had
got no evidence whatever of the proximity of foes. Our march had been
silent, rapid, and watchful, but it proved to be perfectly undisturbed. We
knew, however, that the critical portion of it was still before us; and
just as the sun set, we had made a halt, in order to look to our arms. It
may now be well to say a word or two on the subject of the position of
Herman Mordaunt's 'garrison,' as well as of the adjacent settlement. I call
Ravensnest the 'garrison,' for that is the word which New York custom has
long applied to the fortress itself, as well as those who defend it. Some
critics pretend there is authority to justify the practice, and I see by
the dictionaries that they are not entirely in the wrong.

The Nest stood quite half a mile from the nearest point of the forest, a
belt of trees that fringed the margin, and which filled the cavity of
the ravine, excepted. Near it, and in plain sight, was the heart of the
settlement itself, which extended, in an east and west direction, fully
four miles. This area, however, was cleared only in a settlement fashion;
having patches of virgin forest scattered pretty profusely over its
surface. The mill-lot, as Jason's purchase was termed, lay at the most
distant extremity of the view, but, as yet, the axe had not been applied
to it. I had remarked in my last visit to the place, that, standing before
Herman Mordaunt's door, something like a dozen log cabins were to be seen
at a time in different parts of the settlement, and that this number might
have been increased to twenty, by varying the observer's position.

Of course, the whole of the open space was more or less disfigured by
stumps, dead and girdled trees, charred