Фредерик Марриет
The Settlers in Canada
CHAPTER XXXIV
It was in the first week of June that Malachi, when he was out in the woods, perceived an Indian, who came toward him. He was a youth of about twenty or twenty-one years old, tall and slightly made; he carried his bow and arrows and his tomahawk, but had no gun. Malachi was at that time sitting down on the trunk of a fallen tree; he was not more than two miles from the house, and had gone out with his rifle without any particular intent, unless it was that, as he expected he should soon receive some communication from the Indians, he wished to give them an opportunity of speaking to him alone. The Indian came up to where Malachi was, and took a seat by him, without saying a word.
"Is my son from the West?" said Malachi, in the Indian tongue, after a silence of one or two minutes.
"The Young Otter is from the West," replied the Indian. "The old men have told him of the Gray Badger, who has lived the life of a snake, and who has hunted with the fathers of those who are now old. Does my father live with the white man?"
"He lives with the white man," replied Malachi; "he has no Indian blood in his veins."
"Has the white man many in his lodge?" said the Indian.
"Yes; many young men and many rifles," replied Malachi.
The Indian did not continue this conversation, and there was a silence of some minutes. Malachi was convinced that the young Indian had been sent to intimate that Percival was alive and in captivity, and he resolved to wait patiently till he brought up the subject.
"Does not the cold kill the white man?" said the Indian, at last.
"No; the white man can bear the winter's ice as well as an Indian. He hunts as well, and brings home venison."
"Are all who came here with him now in the white man's lodge?"
"No, not all; one white child slept in the snow, and is in the land of spirits," replied Malachi.
Here there was a pause in the conversation for some minutes; at last the young Indian said—
"A little bird sang in my ear, and it said, The white man's child is not dead; it wandered about in the woods and was lost, and the Indian found him, and took him to his wigwam in the far west."
"Did not the little bird lie to the Young Otter?" replied Malachi.
"No; the little bird sang what was true," replied the Indian. "The white boy is alive and in the lodge of the Indian."
"There are many white men in the country who have children," replied Malachi; "and children are often lost. The little bird may have sung of the child of some other white man."
"The white boy had a rifle in his hand and snow-shoes on his feet."
"So have all they who go out to hunt in the winter's snow," replied Malachi.
"But the white boy was found near to the white man's lodge."
"Then why was not the boy taken back to the white man by the Indians who found him?"
"They were going to their own wigwams and could not turn aside; besides, they feared to come near to the white man's lodge after the sun was down; as my father says he has many young men and many rifles."
"But the white man does not raise his rifle against the Indian, whether he comes by day or by night," replied Malachi. "At night he kills the prowling wolf when he comes near to the lodge."
The Indian again stopped and was silent. He knew by the words of Malachi that the wolf's skin, with which the Indian had been covered when he was crawling to the palisades and had been shot by John, had been discovered. Malachi after a while renewed the conversation.
"Is the Young Otter of a near tribe?"
"The lodges of our tribe are twelve days' journey to the westward," replied the Indian.
"The chief of the Young Otter's band is a great warrior?"
"He is," replied the Indian.
"Yes," replied Malachi, "The 'Angry Snake' is a great warrior. Did he send the Young Otter to me to tell me that the white boy was alive and in his wigwam?"
The Indian again paused. He perceived that Malachi knew where he came from, and from whom. At last he said—
"It is many moons since the Angry Snake has taken care of the white boy, and has fed him with venison; many moons that he has hunted for him to give him food; and the white boy loves the Angry Snake as a father, and the Angry Snake loves the boy as his son. He will adopt him, and the white boy will be the chief of the tribe. He will forget the white men, and become red as an Indian."
"The boy is forgotten by the white man, who has long numbered him with the dead," replied Malachi.
"The white man has no memory," replied the Indian, "to forget so soon; but it is not so. He would make many presents to him who would bring back the boy."
"And what presents could he make?" replied Malachi; "the white man is poor, and hunts with his young men as the Indian does. What has the white man to give that the Indian covets? He has no whisky."
"The white man has powder, and lead, and rifles," replied the Indian; "more than he can use, locked up in his storehouse."
"And will the Angry Snake bring back the white boy if the white man gives him powder, and lead, and rifles?" inquired Malachi.
"He will make a long journey, and bring the white boy with him," replied the Indian; "but first let the white man say what presents he will give."
"He shall be spoken to," replied Malachi, "and his answer shall be brought, but the Young Otter must not go to the white man's lodge. A red-skin is not safe from the rifles of the young men. When the moon is at the full I will meet the Young Otter after the sun is down, at the eastern side of the long prairie. Is it good?"
"Good," replied the Indian, who rose, turned on his heel, and walked away into the forest.
When Malachi returned to the house, he took an opportunity of communicating to Alfred what had taken place. After some conversation, they agreed that they would make Captain Sinclair, who had that morning arrived from the fort, their confidant as to what had occurred, and decide with him upon what steps should be taken. Captain Sinclair was very much surprised, and equally delighted, when he heard that Percival was still alive, and warmly entered into the subject.
"The great question is, whether it would not be better to accede to the terms of this scoundrel of an Indian chief," observed Captain Sinclair. "What are a few pounds of powder and a rifle or two compared with the happiness which will be produced by the return of Percival to his parents, who have so long lamented him as dead?"
"It's not that, sir," replied Malachi. "I know that Mr. Campbell would give his whole store-room to regain his boy, but we must consider what will be the consequence if he does so. One thing is certain, that the Angry Snake will not be satisfied with a trifling present; he will ask many rifles, perhaps more than we have at the farm, and powder and shot in proportion; for he has mixed much with white people, especially when the French were here, and he knows how little we value such things, and how much we love our children. But, sir, in the first place, you supply him and his band with arms to use against us at any other time, and really make them formidable; and in the next place, you encourage him to make some other attempt to obtain similar presents—for he will not be idle. Recollect, sir, that we have in all probability killed one of their band, when he came to reconnoiter the house in the skin of a wolf, and that will never be forgotten, but revenged as soon as it can be. Now, sir, if we give him arms and ammunition, we shall put the means of revenge in his hands, and I should not be surprised to find us one day attacked by him and his band, and it may be, overpowered by means of these rifles which you propose to give him."
"There is much truth and much good sense in what you say, Malachi—indeed, I think it almost at once decides the point, and that we must not consent to his terms; but then what must we do to recover the boy?"
"That is the question which puzzles me," replied Alfred, "for I perfectly agree with Malachi, that we must not give him arms and ammunition, and I doubt if he would accept of any thing else."
"No, sir, that he will not, depend upon it," replied Malachi. "I think there is but one way that will give us a chance."
"What, then, is your idea, Malachi?"
"The Angry Snake with his band were tracking us, and had we not been too strong, would have attacked and murdered us all, that is clear. Not daring to do that, he has stolen Percival, and detains him, to return him at his own price. Now, sir, the Young Otter has come to us, and offers to come again. We have given him no pledge of safe conduct, and, therefore, when he comes again, we must have an ambush ready for him, and make him prisoner; but then you see, sir, we must have the assistance of the Colonel, for he must be confined at the fort; we could not well keep him at the farm. In the first place, it would be impossible then to withhold the secret from Mr. and Mrs. Campbell; and, in the next, we should have to be on the look-out for an attack every night for his rescue; but if the Colonel was to know the whole circumstances, and would assist us, we might capture the Indian lad and hold him as a hostage for Master Percival, till we could make some terms with the Angry Snake."
"I like your idea very much, Malachi," replied Captain Sinclair, "and if, Alfred, you agree with me, I will acquaint the Colonel with the whole of what has passed when I return to-night, and see if he will consent to our taking such a step. When are you to meet the Indian, Malachi?"
"In three days, that is on Saturday; it will be the full of the moon, and then I meet him at night, at the end of the prairie nearest to the fort, so that there will be no difficulty in doing all we propose without Mr. and Mrs. Campbell being aware of any thing that has taken place."
"I think we can not do better than you have proposed," said Alfred.
"Be it so, then," said Captain Sinclair. "I will be here again to-morrow—no, not to-morrow, but the day after will be better, and then I will give you the reply of the Colonel, and make such arrangements as may be necessary."
"That's all right, sir," replied Malachi; "and now all we have to do is to keep our own secret; so, perhaps, Captain Sinclair, you had better go back to the young ladies, for Miss Mary may imagine that it must be something of very great importance which can have detained you so long from her presence;" and Malachi smiled as he finished his remark.
"There's good sense in that observation, Malachi," said Alfred, laughing. "Come, Sinclair."
Captain Sinclair quitted in the evening, and went back to the fort. He returned at the time appointed, and informed them that the Colonel fully approved of their plan of holding the young Indian as a hostage, and that he would secure him in the fort as soon as he was brought in.
"Now, do we want any assistance from the fort? Surely not to capture an Indian lad; at least, so I said to the Colonel," continued Captain Sinclair.
"No, sir, we want no assistance, as you say. I am his match, myself, if that were all; but it is not strength which is required. He is as little and supple as an eel, and as difficult to hold, that I am certain of. If we were to use our rifles, there would be no difficulty, but to hold him would give some trouble to two of us, and if once he breaks loose, he will be too fleet for any of us."
"Well, then, Malachi, how shall we proceed?"
"Why, sir, I must meet him, and you and Mr. Alfred and Martin must be hid at a distance, and gradually steal near to us. Martin shall have his deer thongs all ready, and when you pounce upon him, he must bind him at once. Martin is used to them and knows how to manage it."
"Well, if you think that we three can not manage him, let us have Martin."
"It isn't strength, sir," replied Malachi, "but he will slip through your fingers, if not well tied in half a minute. Now, we will just walk down to where I intend to meet him, and survey the place, and then I'll show you where you must be, for we must not be seen together in that direction to-morrow, for he may be lurking about, and have some suspicion."
They then walked to the end of the prairie nearest to the fort, which was about a mile from the house, and Malachi having selected his ground, and pointed out to them where to conceal themselves, they returned to the house, Alfred having made arrangements when and where he and Martin would meet Captain Sinclair on the day appointed.
The next day passed, and Malachi, as the sun sank behind the lake, walked out to the end of the prairie. He had not been there ten minutes when the young Indian stood before him. He was armed, as before, with his tomahawk and bows and arrows, but Malachi had come out expressly without his rifle.
Malachi, as soon as he perceived the Indian, sat down, as is the usual custom among them when they hold a talk, and the Young Otter followed his example.
"Has my father talked to the white man?" said the Indian after a short silence.
"The white man grieves for the loss of his boy, and his squaw weeps," replied Malachi. "The Angry Snake must bring the boy to the lodge of the white man, and receive presents."
"Will the white man be generous?" continued the Indian.
"He has powder, and lead, and rifles, and tobacco; will such presents please the Angry Snake?"
"The Angry Snake had a dream," replied the Indian, "and he told me his dream. He dreamed that the white boy was put into his mother's arms, who wept for joy, and the white man opened his store, and gave to the Angry Snake ten rifles, and two kegs of powder, and as much lead as four men could carry away."
"'Twas a good dream," replied Malachi, "and it will come true when the white boy comes back to his mother."
"The Angry Snake had another dream. He dreamed that the white man received his child, and pushed the Angry Snake out from the door of his lodge."
"That was bad," replied Malachi. "Look at me, my son; say, did you ever hear that the Gray Badger said a lie?" and Malachi laid hold of the Indian's arm as he spoke.
This was the signal agreed upon between Malachi and the party concealed, who rushed forward and seized the Indian. The Young Otter sprang up in spite of their endeavors to keep him, and would certainly have escaped, for he had got his tomahawk clear, and was about to wield it around his head, had not Martin already passed one of the deer thongs round his ankle, by which the Indian was thrown again to the ground. His arms were then secured behind his back with other deer-skin thongs, and another passed round his ankle and given to Alfred.
"You were right, Malachi," said Captain Sinclair, "how he contrived to twist himself out of our grasp I can not imagine; but he certainly would have been off, probably have broken our heads before he went."
"I know the nature of these Indians, sir," replied Malachi; "they're never safe, even when tied, if the thong does not cut into the bone; but you have him now, sir, fast enough, and the sooner you get to the fort the better. You have your rifles, in the bush?"
"Yes," replied Martin, "you'll find them behind the large oak tree."
"I'll fetch them; not that I think there's much danger of a rescue."
"We have not far to take him," said Captain Sinclair, "for, as I wished you and Alfred not to be so long away as to induce questions to be asked, I have a file of men and a corporal about half a mile off, concealed in the bush. But Malachi, it is as well to let the Indian know that he is only detained as a hostage, and will be restored as soon as the boy is sent back."
Malachi addressed the Indian in his own tongue, and told him what Captain Sinclair requested.
"Tell him that there are several Indian women about the fort, who will take any message he may send to the Angry Snake."
The Young Otter made no reply to any thing said by Malachi, but looked around him very impatiently.
"Be off as fast as you can," said Malachi, "for depend upon it the Angry Snake was to meet him after his talk with me; I see it by his wandering eye, and his looking round for assistance. I will go with you, and return with Alfred and Martin, for I have no rifle."
"You can take mine, Malachi, as soon as we come up to the soldiers."
This was done in a few minutes. Captain Sinclair then took charge of the Indian, and set off with his party for the fort. Malachi, Alfred, and Martin returned to the house, and before they entered the prairie, Martin detected the tall form of an Indian at a short distance, in the shade of the trees.
"Yes, I was sure of it," said Malachi. "It was well that I did not go back without you. After all, in the woods, a man's no man without his rifle."
CHAPTER XXXV
Martin was right when he stated that he perceived the form of the Angry Snake under the shade of the trees. The chief was then watching what occurred, and had been witness to the capture of his emissary, and, following those who had the Young Otter in charge, saw him conveyed to the fort. In the meantime, Malachi, Martin, and Alfred went home, without any suspicion being raised among the other branches of the family of what had occurred. This gave them great satisfaction.
"Well, Malachi," said Alfred the next morning, as they were all busily employed getting the seed into the new cleared land; "what do you imagine will be the steps now taken by the Angry Snake?"
"It's hard to say, sir," replied Malachi; "for he well deserves the name of a snake, if, as the Scripture says, it's the subtlest thing on earth: he will try all he can, you may be sure; and if it were not that he is afraid of us, he would attack us immediately; but that I have no idea that he will venture upon."
"No, for your letter says, that he has only two rifles in his band, which are not enough to give him any chance of success."
"Very true, sir. I hear that the bateaux are coming from the fort for the plank and flour."
"Yes, to-morrow, if there is not so much wind as there is to-day; it blows very fresh. Where is John?"
"I left him with the Strawberry, sir; they were busy with the sugar."
"By the by, how much have you got, Malachi?"
"About three or four hundred pounds, sir, as near as I can reckon; quite as much as madam will require."
"Yes, I should think so; now we shall have preserves of all sorts and the fruit for nothing; the wild raspberries are nearly ripe, and so are the cherries; my cousins want John to help to gather them."
"Well, sir, I dare say he will do so, although I believe that he would rather do any thing else. He said he was going to fish this morning."
"The water is too rough, and he will not be able to manage the punt by himself."
"Then that's the very reason why he'll go out," replied Malachi; "he don't like easy jobs like picking raspberries. Is it true, Mr. Alfred, that we are to have some more settlers come here?"
"Yes, I believe so; my father is very anxious to have them; he thinks it will be a great security, and he has offered very advantageous terms; you won't much like that, Malachi?"
"Well, sir, I dare say you may think so, but it is not the case; if any one had told me, two years ago, that I could have remained here, I would have said it was impossible, but we are all creatures of habit. I had been so used to my own company for so long a time, that when I first saw you I couldn't bear the sight of you; no, not even that of your pretty cousins, Miss Mary and Emma, although, Heaven knows, they might tame a savage; but now, sir, I feel quite changed; I have first borne with company, because I fancied the boy, and then I felt no dislike to it, and now I like it. I believe that in my old age I am coming back to my feelings as a boy, and I think very often of my father's farm, and the little village that was close to it; and then I often fancy that I should like to see a village rise up here, and a church stand up there upon the mount; I think I should like to live on till I saw a church built and God worshiped as He ought to be."
"This is indeed a change, Malachi; well, I hope you will see a church on the mount, and live many years afterward to be present at the weddings and christenings."
"As it pleases God, sir. There's one thing, Mr. Alfred, that has given me great content, and more than any thing, perhaps, reconciled me to my new way of living; and that is, that the Strawberry, by the blessing of God and the labor of your mother and cousins, has become a good Christian; you don't know how pleased I am at that."
"She's an excellent little creature, Malachi; every one is fond of her, and I believe Martin is very strongly attached to her."
"Yes, sir, she's a good wife, for she never uses her tongue, and obeys her husband in all things. I think Martin has now become quite steady, and you might send him to Montreal, or any where else, without fear of his getting into the prison for making a disturbance.—I see that a bear has been over into the maize-field last night."
"What! did he climb the snake-fence?"
"Yes, sir, they climb any thing; but I have got his tracks, and this night I think that I shall get hold of him, for I shall lay a trap for him."
Malachi and Alfred continued to work for two or three hours, when they were summoned by Emma to go in to dinner. "I can not find John," said Emma, as they walked home; "Strawberry says that he left her some time back, and went to fish; have you seen him pass by the river's side?"
"No," replied Alfred; "but, Malachi, you said that he was going to fish in the punt, did you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you see the punt on the beach, Emma?"
"No, I do not," replied Emma; "but it may be behind the point."
"Nor can I; I hope he has not been carried away by the wind, for it blows very hard; I'll run down, and see if he is there."
Alfred ran down to the beach; the punt was gone from the shore, and after looking for some time to leeward, which was to the eastward, in the direction of the rapids, Alfred thought that he perceived something like a boat at a distance of three or four miles; but the water of the lake was much ruffled by the strong wind, and it was not easy to distinguish.
Alfred hastened back, and said to Emma, "I really am afraid that John is adrift. I think I see the boat, but am not sure. Emma, go in quietly and bring out my telescope, which is over my bed-place. Do not let them see you, or they will be asking questions, and your aunt may be alarmed."
Emma went to the house, and soon returned with the telescope. Alfred and Malachi then went down to the beach, and the former distinctly made out that what he had seen was the punt adrift, with John in it.
"Now, what is to be done?" said Alfred. "I must take a horse, and ride off to the fort, for if they do not see him before he passes, he may not be picked up."
"If he once gets into the rapids, sir," said Malachi, "he will be in great danger; for he may be borne down upon one of the rocks, and upset in a minute."
"Yes; but he is some way from them yet," replied Alfred.
"Very true, sir; but with this strong wind right down to them, and helping the current, he will soon be there. There is no time to be lost."
"No; but I'll go in to dinner, and as soon as I have taken a mouthful, just to avoid creating any alarm, I will slip out, and ride to the fort as fast as I can."
"Just so; you will be there in good time, for he is now three miles above the fort; indeed, he can not well pass it without their seeing him."
"Yes, he can, now that the water is so rough," replied Alfred; "recollect that they are soldiers in the fort, and not sailors, who are accustomed to look on the water. A piece of drift timber and a punt is much the same to their eyes. Come, let us in to dinner."
"Yes, sir; I'll follow you," replied Malachi; "but, before I come in I'll catch the horse and saddle him for you. You can tell Miss Emma to hold her tongue about it."
Alfred rejoined Emma, whom he cautioned, and then they went in to their dinner.
"Where's John?" said Mr. Campbell; "he promised me some lake fish for dinner, and has never brought them in; so you will not have such good fare as I expected."
"And where's Malachi?" said Alfred.
"I dare say he and John are out together somewhere," observed Henry, who, with Martin, had come in before Alfred.
"Well, he will lose his dinner," said Mrs. Campbell.
"That's what I can not afford to do, mother," said Alfred; "I am very hungry, and I have not more than five minutes to spare, for the seed must be put in to-night."
"I thought Malachi was with you, Alfred," said Mr. Campbell.
"So he was, father," replied Alfred; "but he left me. Now, mother, please to give me my dinner."
Alfred ate fast, and then rose from the table, and went away from the house. The horse was all ready, and he mounted and rode off for the fort, telling Malachi that his father and mother thought John was with him; and that, therefore, he had better not go in to dinner, but keep out of the way.
"Yes, sir, that will be best, and then they can ask no questions. Be quick, sir, for I am not at all easy about the boy."
Their plans, however, to conceal the danger of John did not succeed; for Mrs. Campbell, after the loss of poor little Percival, had become more than ever solicitous about John, and, a minute or two after Alfred had left the house, she rose from the table, and went to the door, to see if she could perceive Malachi and John coming in. As it happened, Alfred had just set off in a gallop, and she saw him, as well as Malachi standing by himself and watching Alfred's departure. The very circumstance of Alfred's mysterious departure alarmed her. He had never said that he was going to the fort, and that John was not with Malachi was certain. She went into the cottage, and, sinking back in her chair, exclaimed—"Some accident has happened to John!"
"Why should you say so, my dear?" said Mr. Campbell.
"I'm sure of it," replied Mrs. Campbell, bursting into tears. "Alfred is riding away to the fort. Malachi is standing by himself outside. What can it be?"
Mr. Campbell and all the others ran out immediately, except Mary Percival, who went to Mrs. Campbell. Mr. Campbell beckoned to Emma, and from her obtained the real state of the case.
"It will be better to tell her at once," said Mr. Campbell, who then went to his wife, telling her that John was adrift, and that Alfred had ridden to the fort to pick him up in one of the bateaux, but there was no danger to be apprehended.
"Why should they conceal it, if there was no danger, Campbell?" replied his wife. "Yes; there must be danger now the water is so rough. My child, am I to lose you as well as my poor Percival!" continued Mrs. Campbell, again sobbing.
Every attempt was made to console her and assuage her fears, but with indifferent success, and the afternoon of this day was passed in great concern by all, and in an extreme state of nervous anxiety on the part of Mrs. Campbell. Toward the evening, Alfred was seen returning on horseback at full speed. The whole of the family were out watching his arrival, with beating hearts; poor Mrs. Campbell in almost a fainting state. Alfred perceived them long before he had crossed the prairie, and waved his hat in token of good tidings.
"All's well, depend upon it, my dear," said Mr. Campbell. "Alfred would not wave his hat if there was any disaster."
"I must have it from his own mouth," said Mrs. Campbell, almost breathless.
"Safe?" cried out Martin to Alfred, as he approached.
"Safe, quite safe!" cried Alfred, in return.
"Thank Heaven!" cried Mrs. Campbell, in a low voice, clasping her hands in gratitude.
Alfred leaped off his saddle, and hastened to communicate the news. John, trusting too much to his own powers, had gone out in the punt, and soon found out that he could not manage it in so strong a wind. He attempted to get back to the beach, but was unsuccessful, and had, as we have said, been carried away by the wind and current down toward the rapids; but it so happened, that before Alfred had arrived at the fort, Captain Sinclair had observed the punt adrift, and, by the aid of a telescope, ascertained that John was in it, exerting himself very vigorously, but to no purpose. Captain Sinclair, having reported to the commandant and obtained permission, had launched one of the bateaux, manned by the soldiers, and had brought John and the punt on shore, about four miles below the fort, and not until they had arrived in the strong current of the rapids, which in another hour would have, in all probability, proved fatal. Alfred, from the fort, had seen Captain Sinclair gain the shore, with John and the punt in tow, and, as soon as he was satisfied of his brother's safety, had ridden back as fast as he could, to communicate it. This intelligence gave them all great delight, and now that they knew that John was safe, they waited his return with patience. Captain Sinclair arrived, with John behind him, on horseback, about two hours afterward, and was gladly welcomed.
"Indeed, Captain Sinclair, we are under great obligations to you. Had you not been so active, the boy might have been lost," said Mrs. Campbell. "Accept my best thanks."
"And mine," said Mary, extending her hand to him.
"John, you have frightened me very much," said Mrs. Campbell; "how could you be so imprudent as to go on the lake in such a high wind? See, what a narrow escape you have had."
"I should have been at Montreal to-morrow morning," said John, laughing.
"No, never; you would have been upset in the rapids long before you could get to Montreal."
"Well, mother, I can swim," replied John.
"You naughty boy, nothing will make you afraid."
"Well, ma'am, it's a good fault, that of having confidence in yourself, so don't check it too much," replied Malachi. "It saves many a man who would otherwise be lost."
"That's very true, Malachi," observed Alfred; "so, now that he is safe back, we won't scold John any more. He will know better than to go out in such rough weather again."
"To be sure I shall," said John; "I don't want to go down the rapids."
"Well, I'm glad to hear you say that," replied Mrs. Campbell.
Captain Sinclair remained with them that night. Before daylight, the family were alarmed by the report of a gun, and it was immediately supposed that some attack had been made on the lodge occupied by Malachi, Martin, and his wife. Captain Sinclair, Alfred, and John sprang out of bed, and were clothed in a minute. As soon as they had armed themselves, they opened the door cautiously, and, looking well round, went through the passage to the sheep-fold where the lodge was built. Every thing, however, appeared to be quiet, and Alfred knocked at the door. Malachi answered to the inquiry, "What is the matter?"
