Chapter 31

"The flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow dies;
All that we wish to stay,
Tempts and then flies:
What is this world's delight?
Lightning that mocks the night,
Brief even as bright."

Shelley, "Mutability," 11. i-v.

The picture next presented, by the point of land that the unfortunate
Hurons had selected for their last place of encampment, need
scarcely be laid before the eyes of the reader. Happily for the
more tender-minded and the more timid, the trunks of the trees,
the leaves, and the smoke had concealed much of that which passed,
and night shortly after drew its veil over the lake, and the whole
of that seemingly interminable wilderness; which may be said to
have then stretched, with few and immaterial interruptions, from
the banks of the Hudson to the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Our
business carries us into the following day, when light returned
upon the earth, as sunny and as smiling as if nothing extraordinary
had occurred.

When the sun rose on the following morning, every sign of hostility
and alarm had vanished from the basin of the Glimmerglass. The
frightful event of the preceding evening had left no impression
on the placid sheet, and the untiring hours pursued their course
in the placid order prescribed by the powerful hand that set
them in motion. The birds were again skimming the water, or were
seen poised on the wing, high above the tops of the tallest pines
of the mountains, ready to make their swoops, in obedience to the
irresistable law of their natures. In a word, nothing was changed,
but the air of movement and life that prevailed in and around the
castle. Here, indeed, was an alteration that must have struck
the least observant eye. A sentinel, who wore the light infantry
uniform of a royal regiment, paced the platform with measured tread,
and some twenty more of the same corps lounged about the place, or
were seated in the ark. Their arms were stacked under the eye of
their comrade on post. Two officers stood examining the shore, with
the ship's glass so often mentioned. Their looks were directed to
that fatal point, where scarlet coats were still to be seen gliding
among the trees, and where the magnifying power of the instrument
also showed spades at work, and the sad duty of interment going on.
Several of the common men bore proofs on their persons that their
enemies had not been overcome entirely without resistance, and the
youngest of the two officers on the platform wore an arm in a sling.
His companion, who commanded the party, had been more fortunate. He
it was who used the glass, in making the reconnoissances in which
the two were engaged.

A sergeant approached to make a report. He addressed the senior