Chapter 12

THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS (continued).

Mountain's story, as it was laid before Sir William Johnson and my
lord, was shorn, of course, of all the earlier particulars, and the
expedition described to have proceeded uneventfully, until the
Master sickened. But the latter part was very forcibly related,
the speaker visibly thrilling to his recollections; and our then
situation, on the fringe of the same desert, and the private
interests of each, gave him an audience prepared to share in his
emotions. For Mountain's intelligence not only changed the world
for my Lord Durrisdeer, but materially affected the designs of Sir
William Johnson.

These I find I must lay more at length before the reader. Word had
reached Albany of dubious import; it had been rumoured some
hostility was to be put in act; and the Indian diplomatist had,
thereupon, sped into the wilderness, even at the approach of
winter, to nip that mischief in the bud. Here, on the borders, he
learned that he was come too late; and a difficult choice was thus
presented to a man (upon the whole) not any more bold than prudent.
His standing with the painted braves may be compared to that of my
Lord President Culloden among the chiefs of our own Highlanders at
the 'forty-five; that is as much as to say, he was, to these men,
reason's only speaking trumpet, and counsels of peace and
moderation, if they were to prevail at all, must prevail singly
through his influence. If, then, he should return, the province
must lie open to all the abominable tragedies of Indian war - the
houses blaze, the wayfarer be cut off, and the men of the woods
collect their usual disgusting spoil of human scalps. On the other
side, to go farther forth, to risk so small a party deeper in the
desert, to carry words of peace among warlike savages already
rejoicing to return to war: here was an extremity from which it
was easy to perceive his mind revolted.

"I have come too late," he said more than once, and would fall into
a deep consideration, his head bowed in his hands, his foot patting
the ground.

At length he raised his face and looked upon us, that is to say
upon my lord, Mountain, and myself, sitting close round a small
fire, which had been made for privacy in one corner of the camp.

"My lord, to be quite frank with you, I find myself in two minds,"
said he. "I think it very needful I should go on, but not at all
proper I should any longer enjoy the pleasure of your company. We
are here still upon the water side; and I think the risk to
southward no great matter. Will not yourself and Mr. Mackellar
take a single boat's crew and return to Albany?"

My lord, I should say, had listened to Mountain's