to the woodpeckers in the sugar-trees; the negroes grinned broadly; even the Indians appeared a shade less saturnine than usual.  The golden sunshine poured upon them all, and the blue mountains that no Englishman had ever passed seemed for the moment as soft and yielding as the cloud that slept along their summits.  And no man knew what might be just beyond the mountains:  Frenchmen, certainly, and the great lakes and the South Sea:  but, besides these, might there not be gold, glittering stones, new birds and beasts and plants, strange secrets of the hills?  It was only westward-ho! for a week or two, with good company and good drink—­

The woodsman shifted from one foot to the other, but his wife, who had now crossed the grass to his side, had no doubts.

“You’ll not go, William!” she cried.  “Remember the smoke that you saw yesterday from the hilltop!  If the Northern Indians are on the warpath against the Southern, and are passing between us and the mountains, there may be straying bands.  I’ll not let you go!”

In her eagerness she clasped his arm with her hands.  She was a comely, buxom dame, and the circle on horseback, being for the most part young and gallant, and not having seen a woman for some days, looked kindly upon her.

“And so you saw a smoke, goodwife, and are afraid of roving Indians?” said the gentleman who had spoken before.  “That being the case, your husband has our permission to stay behind.  On my life, ’t is a shame to ride away and leave you in danger of such marauders!”

“Will your Excellency permit me to volunteer for guard duty?” demanded a young man who had pressed his horse to the leader’s side.  “It’s odds, though, that when you return this way you’ll find me turned Papist.  I’ll swear your Excellency never saw in Flanders carved or painted saint so worthy of your prayers as yonder breathing one!”

The girl Molly had followed her parents, and now stood upon a little grassy knoll, surveying with wide brown eyes the gay troop before her.  A light wind was blowing, and it wrapped her dress of tender, faded blue around her young limbs, and lifted her loosened hair, gilded by the sunshine into the likeness of an aureole.  Her face was serious and wondering, but fair as a woodland flower.  She had placed her hand upon the head of the child who was with her, clinging to her dress.  The green knoll formed a pedestal; behind was the sky, as blue as that of Italy; the two figures might have been some painted altar-piece.

The sprightly company, which had taken for its motto “Sic juvat transcendere montes,” looked and worshiped.  There was a moment of silent devotion, broken by one of the gentlemen demanding if ’t were not time for dinner; another remarked that they might go much farther and fare much worse, in respect of a cool, sweet spot in which to rest during the heat of the afternoon; and a third boldly proposed that they go no farther at all that day.  Their leader