hich the rush was pressed. Proceeding
then to the lower corner of the cabin, he put up his hand to the top of
the side wall, from which he took down a large stick, or cudgel, having
a strong leathern thong in the upper part, within about six inches of
the top. Into this thong he thrust his hand, and twisting it round his
wrist, in order that no accident or chance blow might cause him to
lose his grip of it, he once more looked upon this scene of unexampled
wretchedness and sorrow, and pulling his old caubeen over his brow, left
the cabin.

It is altogether impossible to describe the storm of conflicting
passions and emotions that raged and jostled against each other within
him. Sorrow--a sense of relief--on behalf of those so dear to him,
who had been rescued from such misery; the love which he bore them
now awakened into tenfold affection and tenderness by their loss;
the uncertain fate of his other little brood, who were ill, but still
living; then the destitution--the want of all that could nourish
or sustain them--the furious ravenings of famine, which he himself
felt--and the black, hopeless, impenetrable future--all crowded, upon
his heart, swept through his frantic imagination, and produced those
maddening but unconscious impulses, under the influence of which great
crimes are frequently committed, almost before their perpetrator is
aware of his having committed them.

Trailcudgel, on leaving his cabin, cared not whither he went; but, by
one of those instincts which direct the savage to the peculiar haunts
where its prey may be expected, and guides the stupid drunkard to his
own particular dwelling, though unconscious even of his very existence
at the time--like either, or both, of these, he went on at as rapid
a pace as his weakness would permit, being quite ignorant of his
whereabouts until he felt himself on the great highway. He looked at
the sky now with an interest he had never felt before. The night
was exceedingly dark, but calm and warm. An odd star here and there
presented itself, and he felt glad at this, for it removed the monotony
of the darkness.

"There," said he to himself, "is the place where Mary and Alley live
now. Up there, in heaven. I am glad of it; but still, how will I enther
the cabin, and not hear their voices? But the other poor creatures!
musn't I do something for them, or they will go too? Yes, yes,--but
whisht! what noise is that? Ha! a coach. Now for it. May God support me!
Here