The Prairie (Fiscle Part 3) Of 2 by J Fenimore Cooper (phonics reading books TXT) 📕

Towards The Encampment.

The Squatter Found His Children Expecting His Return In The Usual

Listless Manner With Which They Awaited All Coming Events. The Cattle

Were Already Herded,  And The Horses In Their Gears,  In Readiness To

Proceed,  So Soon As He Should Indicate That Such Was His Pleasure. The

Children Were Already In Their Proper Vehicle,  And,  In Short,  Nothing

Delayed The Departure But The Absence Of The Parents Of The Wild

Brood.

"Abner," Said The Father,  With The Deliberation With Which All His

Proceedings Were Characterised,  "Take The Brother Of Your Mother From

The Wagon,  And Let Him Stand On The 'Arth."

Abiram Issued From His Place Of Concealment,  Trembling,  It Is True,

But Far From Destitute Of Hopes,  As To His Final Success In Appeasing

The Just Resentment Of His Kinsman. After Throwing A Glance Around

Him,  With The Vain Wish Of Finding A Single Countenance In Which He

Might Detect A Solitary Gleam Of Sympathy,  He Endeavoured To Smother

Those Apprehensions,  That Were By This Time Reviving In Their Original

Violence,  By Forcing A Sort Of Friendly Communication Between Himself

And The Squatter--

"The Beasts Are Getting Jaded,  Brother," He Said,  "And As We Have Made

So Good A March Already,  Is It Not Time To Camp. To My Eye You May Go

Far,  Before A Better Place Than This Is Found To Pass The Night In."

"Tis Well You Like It. Your Tarry Here Ar' Likely To Be Long. My Sons,

Draw Nigh And Listen. Abiram White," He Added,  Lifting His Cap,  And

Speaking With A Solemnity And Steadiness,  That Rendered Even His Dull

Mien Imposing,  "You Have Slain My First-Born,  And According To The

Laws Of God And Man Must You Die!"

The Kidnapper Started At This Terrible And Sudden Sentence,  With The

Terror That One Would Exhibit Who Unexpectedly Found Himself In The

Grasp Of A Monster,  From Whose Power There Was No Retreat. Although

Filled With The Most Serious Forebodings Of What Might Be His Lot,  His

Courage Had Not Been Equal To Look His Danger In The Face,  And With

The Deceitful Consolation,  With Which Timid Tempers Are Apt To Conceal

Their Desperate Condition From Themselves,  He Had Rather Courted A

Treacherous Relief In His Cunning,  Than Prepared Himself For The

Worst.

"Die!" He Repeated,  In A Voice That Scarcely Issued From His Chest; "A

Man Is Surely Safe Among His Kinsmen!"

"So Thought My Boy," Returned The Squatter,  Motioning For The Team,

That Contained His Wife And The Girls,  To Proceed,  As He Very Coolly

Examined The Priming Of His Piece. "By The Rifle Did You Destroy My

Son; It Is Fit And Just That You Meet Your End By The Same Weapon."

Abiram Stared About Him With A Gaze That Bespoke An Unsettled Reason.

He Even Laughed,  As If He Would Not Only Persuade Himself But Others

That What He Heard Was Some Pleasantry,  Intended To Try His Nerves.

But Nowhere Did His Frightful Merriment Meet With An Answering Echo.

All Around Was Solemn And Still. The Visages Of His Nephews Were

Excited,  But Cold Towards Him,  And That Of His Former Confederate

Frightfully Determined. This Very Steadiness Of Mien Was A Thousand

Times More Alarming And Hopeless Than Any Violence Could Have Proved.

The Latter Might Possibly Have Touched His Spirit And Awakened

Resistance,  But The Former Threw Him Entirely On The Feeble Resources

Of Himself.

"Brother," He Said,  In A Hurried,  Unnatural Whisper,  "Did I Hear You?"

"My Words Are Plain,  Abiram White: Thou Hast Done Murder,  And For The

Same Must Thou Die!"

"Esther! Sister,  Sister,  Will You Leave Me! Oh Sister! Do You Hear My

Call?"

"I Hear One Speak From The Grave!" Returned The Husky Tones Of Esther,

As The Wagon Passed The Spot Where The Criminal Stood. "It Is The

Voice Of My Firstborn,  Calling Aloud For Justice! God Have Mercy,  God

Have Mercy,  On Your Soul!"

The Team Slowly Pursued Its Route,  And The Deserted Abiram Now Found

Himself Deprived Of The Smallest Vestige Of Hope. Still He Could Not

Summon Fortitude To Meet His Death,  And Had Not His Limbs Refused To

Aid Him,  He Would Yet Have Attempted To Fly. Then,  By A Sudden

Revolution From Hope To Utter Despair,  He Fell Upon His Knees,  And

Commenced A Prayer,  In Which Cries For Mercy To God And To His Kinsman

Were Wildly And Blasphemously Mingled. The Sons Of Ishmael Turned Away

In Horror At The Disgusting Spectacle,  And Even The Stern Nature Of

The Squatter Began To Bend Before So Abject Misery.

"May That,  Which You Ask Of Him,  Be Granted," He Said; "But A Father

Can Never Forget A Murdered Child."

He Was Answered By The Most Humble Appeals For Time. A Week,  A Day,  An

Hour,  Were Each Implored,  With An Earnestness Commensurate To The

Value They Receive,  When A Whole Life Is Compressed Into Their Short

Duration. The Squatter Was Troubled,  And At Length He Yielded In Part

To The Petitions Of The Criminal. His Final Purpose Was Not Altered,

Though He Changed The Means. "Abner," He Said,  "Mount The Rock,  And

Look On Every Side,  That We May Be Sure None Are Nigh."

While His Nephew Was Obeying This Order,  Gleams Of Reviving Hope Were

Seen Shooting Across The Quivering Features Of The Kidnapper. The

Report Was Favourable,  Nothing Having Life,  The Retiring Teams

Excepted,  Was To Be Seen. A Messenger Was,  However,  Coming From The

Latter,  In Great Apparent Haste. Ishmael Awaited Its Arrival. He

Received From The Hands Of One Of His Wondering And Frighted Girls A

Fragment Of That Book,  Which Esther Had Preserved With So Much Care.

The Squatter Beckoned The Child Away,  And Placed The Leaves In The

Hands Of The Criminal.

"Eest'er Has Sent You This," He Said,  "That,  In Your Last Moments,  You

May Remember God."

"Bless Her,  Bless Her! A Good And Kind Sister Has She Been To Me. But

Time Must Be Given,  That I May Read; Time,  My Brother,  Time!"

"Time Shall Not Be Wanting. You Shall Be Your Own Executioner,  And

This Miserable Office Shall Pass Away From My Hands."

Ishmael Proceeded To Put His New Resolution In Force. The Immediate

Apprehensions Of The Kidnapper Were Quieted,  By An Assurance That He

Might Yet Live For Days,  Though His Punishment Was Inevitable. A

Reprieve,  To One Abject And Wretched As Abiram,  Temporarily Produced

The Same Effects As A Pardon. He Was Even Foremost In Assisting In The

Appalling Arrangements,  And Of All The Actors,  In That Solemn Tragedy,

His Voice Alone Was Facetious And Jocular.

A Thin Shelf Of The Rock Projected Beneath One Of The Ragged Arms Of

The Willow. It Was Many Feet From The Ground,  And Admirably Adapted To

The Purpose Which,  In Fact,  Its Appearance Had Suggested. On This

Little Platform The Criminal Was Placed,  His Arms Bound At The Elbows

Behind His Back,  Beyond The Possibility Of Liberation,  With A Proper

Cord Leading From His Neck To The Limb Of The Tree. The Latter Was So

Placed,  That When Suspended The Body Could Find No Foot-Hold. The

Fragment Of The Bible Was Placed In His Hands,  And He Was Left To Seek

His Consolation As He Might From Its Pages.

"And Now,  Abiram White," Said The Squatter,  When His Sons Had

Descended From Completing This Arrangement,  "I Give You A Last And

Solemn Asking. Death Is Before You In Two Shapes. With This Rifle Can

Your Misery Be Cut Short,  Or By That Cord,  Sooner Or Later,  Must You

Meet Your End."

"Let Me Yet Live! Oh,  Ishmael,  You Know Not How Sweet Life Is,  When

The Last Moment Draws So Nigh!"

"'Tis Done," Said The Squatter,  Motioning For His Assistants To Follow

The Herds And Teams. "And Now,  Miserable Man,  That It May Prove A

Consolation To Your End,  I Forgive You My Wrongs,  And Leave You To

Your God."

Ishmael Turned And Pursued His Way Across The Plain,  At His Ordinary

Sluggish And Ponderous Gait. Though His Head Was Bent A Little Towards

The Earth,  His Inactive Mind Did Not Prompt Him To Cast A Look Behind.

Once,  Indeed,  He Thought He Heard His Name Called,  In Tones That Were

A Little Smothered,  But They Failed To Make Him Pause.

At The Spot Where He And Esther Had Conferred,  He Reached The Boundary

Of The Visible Horizon From The Rock. Here He Stopped,  And Ventured A

Glance In The Direction Of The Place He Had Just Quitted. The Sun Was

Near Dipping Into The Plains Beyond,  And Its Last Rays Lighted The

Naked Branches Of The Willow. He Saw The Ragged Outline Of The Whole

Drawn Against The Glowing Heavens,  And He Even Traced The Still

Upright Form Of The Being He Had Left To His Misery. Turning The Roll

Of The Swell,  He Proceeded With The Feelings Of One,  Who Had Been

Suddenly And Violently Separated From A Recent Confederate,  For Ever.

Within A Mile,  The Squatter Overtook His Teams. His Sons Had Found A

Place Suited To The Encampment For The Night,  And Merely Awaited His

Approach To Confirm Their Choice. Few Words Were Necessary To Express

His Acquiescence. Every Thing Passed In A Silence More General And

Remarkable Than Ever. The Chidings Of Esther Were Not Heard Among Her

Young,  Or If Heard,  They Were More In The Tones Of Softened

Admonition,  Than In Her Usual,  Upbraiding,  Key.

No Questions Nor Explanations Passed Between The Husband And His Wife.

It Was Only As The Latter Was About To Withdraw Among Her Children,

For The Night,  That The Former Saw Her Taking A Furtive Look At The

Pan Of His Rifle. Ishmael Bade His Sons Seek Their Rest,