The Frenchman, who was on his legs in the act of springing from the sleigh, took an aerial flight also, much in the attitude which boys assume when they play leap-frog, and flying off in a tangent to the curvature of his course, came into the snow bank head foremost, where he remained, exhibiting two lathy legs on high, like scare-crows waving in a corn field. Major Hartmann, whose self-possession had been admirably preserved during the whole evolution, was the first of the party that gained his feet and his voice.

»Ter deyvel, Richart,« he exclaimed, in a voice half serious, half comical, »Put you unloat your sleigh very hantily.«

It may be doubtful, whether the attitude in which Mr. Grant continued for an instant after his overthrow, was the one into which he had been thrown, or was assumed, in humbling himself before the power that he reverenced, in thanksgiving at his escape. When he rose from his knees, he began to gaze about him, with anxious looks, after the welfare of his companions, while every joint in his body trembled with nervous agitation. There was some confusion in the faculties of Mr. Jones, also; but as the mist gradually cleared from before his eyes, he saw that all was safe, and with an air of great self-satisfaction, he cried, »well – that was neatly saved, any how – It was a lucky thought in me to hold on the reins, or the fiery devils would have been over the mountain by this time. How well I recovered myself, 'duke; another moment would have been too late – But I knew just the spot where to touch the off-leader; that blow under his right flank, and the sudden jerk I gave the rein, brought them round quite in rule, I must own myself.«

The spectators, from immemorial usage, have a right to laugh at the casualties of a sleigh-ride; and the Judge was no sooner certain that no harm was done, than he made full use of the privilege.

»Thou jerk! thou recover thyself, Dickon!« he said; »but for that brave lad yonder, thou and thy horses, or rather mine, would have been dashed to pieces – But where is Monsieur Le Quoi?«

»Oh! mon cher Juge! Mon ami!« cried a smothered voice, »praise be God I live; vill-a you, Mister Agamemnon, be pleas come down ici, and help-a me on my leg?«

The divine and the negro seized the incarcerated Gaul by his legs, and extricated him from a snow-bank of three feet in depth, whence his voice had sounded as from the tombs. The thoughts of Mr. Le Quoi, immediately on his liberation, were not extremely collected; and when he reached the light, he threw his eyes upwards, in order to examine the distance he had fallen. His good humour returned however, with a knowledge of his safety, though it was some little time before he clearly comprehended the case.

»What, monsieur,« said Richard, who was busily assisting the black in taking off the leaders; »are you there? I thought I saw you flying towards the top of the mountain just now.«

»Praise be God, I no fly down into de lake,« returned the Frenchman, with a visage that was divided between pain, occasioned by a few large scratches that he had received in forcing his head through the crust, and the look of complaisance that seemed natural to his pliable features; »ah! mon cher Mister Deeck, vat you shall do next? – dere be noting you no try.«

»The next thing, I trust, will be to learn to drive,« said the Judge, who had busied himself in throwing the buck, together with several other articles of baggage, from his own sleigh into the snow; »here are seats for you all, gentlemen; the evening grows piercingly cold, and the hour approaches for the service of Mr. Grant: we will leave friend Jones to repair the damages, with the assistance of Agamemnon, and hasten to a warm fire. Here, Dickon, are a few articles of Bess's trumpery, that you can throw into your sleigh when ready, and there is also a deer of my taking, that I will thank you to bring – Aggy! remember there will be a visit from Santaclaus5 to-night.«

The black grinned, conscious of the bribe that was offered him for silence on the subject of the deer, while Richard, without, in the least, waiting for the termination of his cousin's speech, began his reply –

»Learn to drive, sayest thou, cousin 'duke? Is there a man in the county who knows more of horse-flesh than myself? Who broke in the filly, that no one else dare mount; though your coachman did pretend that he had tamed her before I took her in hand, but any body could see that he lied – he was a great liar, that John – what's that, a buck?« – Richard abandoned the horses, and ran to the spot where Marmaduke had thrown the deer; »It is a buck! I am amazed! Yes, here are two holes in him; he has fired both barrels, and hit him each time. Ecod! how Marmaduke will brag! he is a prodigious bragger about any small matter like this now; well, to think that 'duke has killed a buck before christmas! There will be no such thing as living with him – they are both bad shots though, mere chance – mere chance; – now, I never fired twice at a cloven hoof in my life; – it is hit or miss with me – dead or runaway: – had it been a bear, or a wild-cat, a man might have wanted both barrels. Here! you Aggy! how far off was the Judge when this buck was shot?«

»Eh! Massa Richard, may be a ten rod,« cried the black, bending under one of the horses, with the pretence of fastening a buckle, but in reality to conceal the grin that opened a mouth from ear to ear.

»Ten rod!« echoed the other; »why, Aggy, the deer I killed last winter was at twenty – yes! if any thing it was nearer thirty than twenty. I wouldn't shoot at a deer at ten rod: besides, you may remember, Aggy, I only fired once.«

»Yes, Massa Richard, I 'member 'em! Natty Bumppo fire t'oder gun. You know, sir, all 'e folk say, Natty kill 'em.«

»The folks lie, you black devil!« exclaimed Richard in great heat. »I have not shot even a gray squirrel these four years, to which that old rascal has not laid claim, or some one else for him. This is a damn'd envious world that we live in – people are always for dividing the credit of a thing, in order to bring down merit to their own level. Now they have a story about the Patent6, that Hiram Doolittle helped to plan the steeple to St. Paul's; when Hiram knows that it is entirely mine; a little taken from a print of its namesake in London, I own; but essentially, as to all points of genius, my own.«

»I don't know where he come from,« said the black, losing every mark of humour in an expression of admiration, »but eb'ry body say, he wonnerful hansome.«

»And well they may say so, Aggy,« cried Richard, leaving the buck, and walking up to the negro with the air of a man who has new interest awakened within him. »I think I may say, without bragging, that it is the handsomest and the most scientific country church in America. I know that the Connecticut settlers talk about their Wethersfield meeting-house: but I never believe more than half what they say, they are such unconscionable braggers. Just as you have got a thing done, if they see it likely to be successful they are always for interfering, and then it is ten to one but they lay claim to half, or even all of the credit. You may remember, Aggy, when I painted the sign of the bold dragoon for Capt. Hollister, there was that fellow, who was about town laying brick dust on the houses, came one day and offered to mix what I call the streaky black, for the tail and mane, and then, because it looks like horse hair, he tells every body that the sign was painted by himself and Squire Jones. If Marmaduke don't send that fellow off the Patent, he may ornament his village with his own hands, for me.« Here Richard paused a moment, and cleared his throat by a loud hem, while the negro, who was all this time busily engaged in preparing the sleigh, proceeded with his work in respectful silence. Owing to the religious scruples of the Judge, Aggy was the servant of Richard, who had his services for a time7, and who, of course, commanded a legal claim to the respect of the young negro. But when any dispute between his lawful and his real master occurred, the black felt too much deference for both to express any opinion. In the mean while, Richard continued watching the negro as he fastened buckle after buckle, until, stealing a look of consciousness toward the other, he continued, »Now, if that young man, who was in your sleigh, is a real Connecticut settler, he will be telling every body how he saved my horses, when, if he had let them alone for half-a-minute longer, I would have brought them in much better, without upsetting, with the whip and rein – it spoils a horse to give him his head. I should not wonder if I had to sell the whole team, just for that one jerk he gave them.« Richard paused, and hemmed, for his conscience smote him a little, for censuring a man who had just saved his life – »who is the lad, Aggy – I don't remember to have seen him before?«

The black recollected the hint about Santaclaus, and while he briefly explained how they had taken up the person in question on the top of the mountain, he forbore to add any thing concerning the accident of the wound, only saying, that he believed the youth was a stranger.