Twelve hours had scarcely elapsed since I emerged from
the cavern. Had two days and a half been consumed in my subterranean
prison? These reflections were quickly supplanted by others. I now gained a
sufficient acquaintance with the region that was spread around me. I was
in the midst of a vale included between ridges that gradually approached
each other, and, when joined, were broken up into hollows and steeps,
and, spreading themselves over a circular space, assumed the appellation
of Norwalk. This vale gradually widened as it tended to the westward,
and was, in this place, ten or twelve miles in breadth. My devious
footsteps had brought me to the foot of the southern barrier. The outer
basis of this was laved by the river; but, as it tended eastward, the
mountain and river receded from each other, and one of the cultivable
districts lying between them was Solesbury, my natal _township_. Hither it was now my duty to return with the utmost expedition. There were two ways before me. One lay along the interior base of the
hill, over a sterile and trackless space, and exposed to the encounter
of savages, some of whom might possibly be lurking here. The other was
the well-frequented road on the outside and along the river, and which
was to be gained by passing over this hill. The practicability of the
passage was to be ascertained by inquiries made to my hostess. She
pointed out a path that led to the rocky summit and down to the river's
brink. The path was not easy to be kept in view or to be trodden, but it
was undoubtedly to be preferred to any other. A route somewhat circuitous would terminate in the river-road. Thenceforward the way to Solesbury was level and direct; but the whole
space which I had to traverse was not less than thirty miles. In six
hours it would be night, and to perform the journey in that time would
demand the agile boundings of a leopard and the indefatigable sinews of
an elk. My frame was in a miserable plight. My strength had been assailed by
anguish, and fear, and watchfulness, by toil, and abstinence, and
wounds. Still, however, some remnant was left; would it not enable me to
reach my home by nightfall? I had delighted, from my childhood, in feats
of agility and perseverance. In roving through the maze of thickets and
precipices, I had put my energies, both moral and physical, frequently
to the test. Greater achievements than this had been performed, and I
disdained to be outdone in perspicacity by the lynx, in his sure-footed
instinct by the roe, or in patience under hardship, and contention with
fatigue, by the Mohawk. I have ever aspired to transcend the rest of
animals in all that is common to the rational and brute, as well as in
all by which they are distinguished from each other. Chapter XXI. I likewise burned with impatience to know the condition of my family, to
dissipate at once their tormenting doubts and my own with regard to our
mutual safety. The evil that I feared had befallen them was too enormous
to allow me to repose in suspense, and my restlessness and ominous
forebodings would be more intolerable than any hardship or toils to
which I could possibly be subjected during this journey. I was much refreshed and invigorated by the food that I had taken, and
by the rest of an hour. With this stock of recruited force I determined
to scale the hill. After receiving minute directions, and, returning
many thanks for my hospitable entertainment, I set out. The path was indeed intricate, and deliberate attention was obliged to
be exerted in order to preserve it. Hence my progress was slower than I
wished. The first impulse was to fix my eye upon the summit, and to leap
from crag to crag till I reached it; but this my experience had taught
me was impracticable. It was only by winding through gullies, and
coasting precipices and bestriding chasms, that I could hope finally to
gain the top; and I was assured that by one way only was it possible to
accomplish even this. An hour was spent in struggling with impediments, and I seemed to have
gained no way. Hence a doubt was suggested whether I had not missed the
true road. In this doubt I was confirmed by the difficulties which now
grew up before me. The brooks, the angles, and the hollows, which my
hostess had described, were not to be seen. Instead of these, deeper
dells, more headlong torrents, and wider-gaping rifts, were incessantly
encountered. To return was as hopeless as to proceed. I consoled myself with thinking
that the survey which my informant had made of the hill-side might prove
inaccurate, and that, in spite of her predictions, the heights might be
reached by other means than by those pointed out by her. I will not
enumerate my toilsome expedients, my frequent disappointments, and my
desperate exertions. Suffice it to say that I gained the upper space not
till the sun had dipped beneath the horizon. My satisfaction at accomplishing thus much was not small, and I hied,
with renovated spirits, to the opposite brow. This proved to be a steep
that could not be descended. The river flowed at its foot. The opposite
bank was five hundred yards distant, and was equally towering and steep
as that on which I stood. Appearances were adapted to persuade you that
these rocks had formerly joined, but by some mighty effort of nature had
been severed, that the stream might find way through the chasm. The
channel, however, was encumbered with asperities, over which the river
fretted and foamed with thundering impetuosity. I pondered for a while on these stupendous scenes. They ravished my
attention from considerations that related to myself; but this interval
was snort, and I began to measure the descent, in order to ascertain the
practicability of treading it. My survey terminated in bitter
disappointment. I turned my eye successively eastward and westward. Solesbury lay in the former direction, and thither I desired to go. I
kept along the verge in this direction till I reached an impassable
rift. Beyond this I saw that the steep grew lower; but it was impossible
to proceed farther. Higher up the descent might be practicable, and,
though more distant from Solesbury, it was better to reach the road even
at that distance than never to reach it. Changing my course, therefore, I explored the spaces above. The night
was rapidly advancing; the gray clouds gathered in the southeast, and a
chilling blast, the usual attendant of a night in October, began to
whistle among the pigmy cedars that scantily grew upon these heights. My
progress would quickly be arrested by darkness, and it behooved me to
provide some place of shelter and repose. No recess better than a hollow
in the rock presented itself to my anxious scrutiny. Meanwhile, I would not dismiss the hope of reaching the road, which I
saw some hundred feet below, winding along the edge of the river, before
daylight should utterly fail.