In the first place, he directed the men to build a massive wall of stone, for a hundred and fifty feet in length, and six feet in height.  This stretched in front of the perpendicular rock, with receding walls to its verge.  The latter were about two hundred feet in length, each.  This was enclosing an area of two hundred, by one hundred and fifty feet, within a blind wall of masonry.  Through this wall there was only a single passage; a gateway, in the centre of its southern face.  The materials had all been found on the hill itself, which was well covered with heavy stones.  Within this wall, which was substantially laid, by a Scotch mason, one accustomed to the craft, the men had erected a building of massive, squared, pine timber, well secured by cross partitions.  This building followed the wall in its whole extent, was just fifteen feet in elevation, without the roof, and was composed, in part, by the wall itself; the latter forming nearly one-half its height, on the exterior.  The breadth of this edifice was only twenty feet, clear of the stones and wood-work; leaving a court within of about one hundred by one hundred and seventy-five feet in extent.  The roof extended over the gateway even; so that the space within was completely covered, the gates being closed.  This much had been done during the preceding fall and winter; the edifice presenting an appearance of rude completeness on the exterior.  Still it had a sombre and goal-like air, there being nothing resembling a window visible; no aperture, indeed, on either of its outer faces, but the open gateway, of which the massive leaves were finished, and placed against the adjacent walls, but which were not yet hung.  It is scarcely necessary to say, this house resembled barracks, more than an ordinary dwelling.  Mrs. Willoughby stood gazing at it, half in doubt whether to admire or to condemn, when a voice, within a few yards, suddenly drew her attention in another direction.

“How you like him?” asked Nick, who was seated on a stone, at the margin of the stream, washing his feet, after a long day’s hunt.  “No t’ink him better dan beaver skin?  Cap’in know all ’bout him; now he give Nick some more last quit-rent?”

“Last, indeed, it will be, then, Nick; for I have already paid you twice for your rights.”

“Discovery wort’ great deal, cap’in—­see what great man he make pale-face.”

“Ay, but your discovery, Nick, is not of that sort.”

“What sort, den?” demanded Nick, with the rapidity of lightning.  “Give him back ’e beaver, if you no like he discovery.  Grad to see ’em back, ag’in; skin higher price dan ever.”

“Nick, you’re a cormorant, if there ever was one in this world!  Here—­ there is a dollar for you; the quit-rent is paid for this year, at least.  It ought to be for the last time.”

“Let him go for all summer, cap’in.  Yes, Nick wonderful commerant! no such eye he got, among Oneida!”