The Rivals of Acadia | Page 9

again beside him; but
there was no sound abroad, except the sighing of the wind and waves;
and the shadows of the trees lay unbroken on the velvet turf. From this
disquiet musing, so foreign to his light and careless disposition, the
page was at length agreeably roused by the quick dash of oars, and in a
moment he perceived a small bark canoe, guided by a single individual,
bounding swiftly over the waves. As it approached near the place
where he stood, Hector retreated to conceal himself in a tuft of
ever-greens, from whence he could, unseen, observe the person who
drew near. He had reason to congratulate himself on this precaution, as
the boat shortly neared the spot which he had just quitted, and in the

occupant he discovered the dark features of a young Indian, who had
apparently been engaged in the labor or amusement of fishing. Not
caring to disclose himself to the savage, the page shrunk behind the
trunk of a large pine tree, while the dog crouched quietly at his feet,
equally intent on the stranger's motions,--his shaggy ears bent to the
ground, and his intelligent eyes turned often inquiringly to his master's
face, as if to consult his wishes and inclination.
The Indian leaped from his canoe, the instant it touched the strand, and
began hastily to secure it by a rope, which he fastened around the trunk
of an uprooted tree. From his appearance, he belonged to one of those
native tribes, who, from constant intercourse and traffic with the French
Acadians, had imbibed some of the habits and ideas of civilized life.
His dress was, in many respects, similar to the European's; but the
embroidered moccasins, the cloak of deer-skins, and plume of scarlet
feathers, shewed that he had not altogether abandoned the customs and
finery of his own people. His figure was less tall and athletic than the
generality of Indian youth, and his finely formed features were
animated by an expression of vivacity and careless good-humour, very
different from the usual gravity of his nation. The page looked at him
with a degree of curiosity and interest which he could neither suppress
nor define. Half ashamed of his own timidity, he resolved to address
him, and seek the information he was so desirous of obtaining, if,
indeed, he had been sufficiently conversant with the French settlers to
communicate his ideas in that language. While he still hesitated, the
Indian had secured his canoe, and as he stooped to take something from
it, he began to hum in a low voice, and presently, to the great surprise
of Hector, broke into a lively French air, the words and tune of which
were perfectly familiar to his ear. The dog also seemed to recognize it;
he started on his feet, listened attentively, and then, with a joyful bark,
sprang towards the Indian, and began to fawn around him and lick his
hands, with every demonstration of sincere pleasure.
"By our lady, you are a brave fellow, my faithful Hero," said the Indian,
in very pure French, as he caressed the animal; then casting a searching
glance around, he continued to address him, "But how came you here,
and alone, to greet your master on his return?"

The page could scarcely repress an exclamation of surprise, as he
listened to the well-remembered voice; but drawing his cloak more
closely round him, and confining his dark locks beneath the tartan
bonnet, which he pulled over his brow, he advanced nearer, though still
unseen, and said in a disguised tone,
"Methinks thou art but a sorry actor, to be thrown off thy guard by the
barking of a dog; if I had a tongue so little used to keep its own counsel,
I would choose a mask which it would not so readily betray."
"Thou art right, by all the saints," replied the other; "and be thou friend
or foe, I will see to whom I am indebted for this sage reproof."
So saying, he darted towards the place where the page was concealed,
and Hector, hiding his face as much as possible, bowed with an air of
profound respect before him.
"Ha! whom have we here?" he asked, surveying the page with extreme
curiosity.
"The page of my lady De la Tour;" returned Hector, his laughing eye
drooping beneath the inquisitorial gaze.
"A pretty popinjay, brought out for my lady's amusement!" said the
stranger, smiling; "you make rare sport with your antic tricks, at the fort
yonder, I doubt not, boy."
"I am but a poor substitute for my lord's lieutenant, whose mirth was as
far-famed as his courage;" returned the page, gravely.
"Thou art a saucy knave!" said the other, quickly; but instantly
checking himself, he added, "and how fares it with your lady,