Chapter 11

So foul a sky clears not without a storm.
--King John.

In the mean time the industrious and irreclaimable hours continued
their labours. The sun, which had been struggling through such masses
of vapour throughout the day, fell slowly in a streak of clear sky,
and thence sunk gloriously into the gloomy wastes, as he is wont to
settle into the waters of the ocean. The vast herds which had been
grazing among the wild pastures of the prairies, gradually
disappeared, and the endless flocks of aquatic birds, that were
pursuing their customary annual journey from the virgin lakes of the
north towards the gulf of Mexico, ceased to fan that air, which had
now become loaded with dew and vapour. In short, the shadows of night
fell upon the rock, adding the mantle of darkness to the other dreary
accompaniments of the place.

As the light began to fail, Esther collected her younger children at
her side, and placing herself on a projecting point of her insulated
fortress, she sat patiently awaiting the return of the hunters. Ellen
Wade was at no great distance, seeming to keep a little aloof from the
anxious circle, as if willing to mark the distinction which existed in
their characters.

"Your uncle is, and always will be, a dull calculator, Nell," observed
the mother, after a long pause in a conversation that had turned on
the labours of the day; "a lazy hand at figures and foreknowledge is
that said Ishmael Bush! Here he sat lolloping about the rock from
light till noon, doing nothing but scheme--scheme--scheme--with seven
as noble boys at his elbows as woman ever gave to man; and what's the
upshot? why, night is setting in, and his needful work not yet ended."

"It is not prudent, certainly, aunt," Ellen replied, with a vacancy in
her air, that proved how little she knew what she was saying; "and it
is setting a very bad example to his sons."

"Hoity, toity, girl! who has reared you up as a judge over your
elders, ay, and your betters, too! I should like to see the man on the
whole frontier, who sets a more honest example to his children than
this same Ishmael Bush! Show me, if you can, Miss Fault-finder, but
not fault-mender, a set of boys who will, on occasion, sooner chop a
piece of logging and dress it for the crop, than my own children;
though I say it myself, who, perhaps, should be silent; or a cradler
that knows better how to lead a gang of hands through a field of
wheat, leaving a cleaner stubble in his track, than my own good man!
Then, as a father, he is as generous as a lord; for his sons have only
to name the spot where they would like to pitch, and he gives 'em a
deed of the plantation, and no charge for papers is ever made!"