"I don't see any guns," commented Elizabeth.

"Don't need any, for fledglings," Hawkeye said. "The wood ducks can't fly now, not the hens or the young."

He pointed out the long, marshy stretch on the opposite side of the lake, just above the village. There, reeds and cattails, cranberry bushes and drowned trees wove themselves into a watery fortress of a good half mile in length.

Elizabeth squinted into the sky. "Those are drakes, are they not? They seem quite irritated."

Mergansers sporting white ruffs like cocked hats circled above the lake, rousted from feeding by the commotion on the shore. Nathaniel felt their agitation whirling and swirling like a rising storm. He put a hand on Elizabbeth's shoulder.

"It ain't pretty, this kind of hunting."

"Is any hunting?" she asked, surprised.

"By God, yes," said Hawkeye decisively. "There's a beauty to be found in tracking a deer and taking her down clean. She might outsmart you or outrun you. There's a challenge to it, and a skill."

"Perhaps I can go out with you sometime, and see for myself." Elizabeth had long been curious about Hawkeye's hunting absences.

"You make me an apple pie, I'll take you out tracking," he promised.

"Ah." Elizabeth smiled. "I knew there would be some condition."

"I will take you into the forest," Chingachgook said quietly, so that the whole party stopped short. Nathaniel looked back to see his father and grandfather shoulder to shoulder. They were so alike and so different: both of them white—haired, and straight—backed, tough old men who had outlived most of the people they had loved, but still they stood there looking at Elizabeth with real affection and admiration.

The dappled light moved on his grandfather's face and it seemed to Nathaniel almost as if the bone glimmered softly through Chingachgook's skin. He stepped toward the old man, as if he had cried out in pain.Then he realized that no one else had seen anything alarming. A waking dream, then. Not to be ignored, but not carrying the same urgency as a sleeping dream. He would talk to the women about it when they got home; they could tell him what it meant.

Chingachgook was telling Elizabeth about tracking, and what would be expected of her. "If you want to learn to listen to the deer, then I will take you. You must listen to them if you want to track them. I will teach you how to sing to them." His expression was somber, and her smile faded.

"I would like that." She sent a glance in Hawkeye's direction. "And I will learn how to make you an apple pie, anyway."

The path had been winding in and out of the wood to deposit them suddenly on a secluded corner of the lake. The men dragged a canoe out of its protected spot under a stand of redbud saplings.

"You'll have time enough to practice on that pie," Hawkeye said gruffly. "Couldn't go out after a deer now anyway, not until the rut starts; you'd end up in Anna's pantry."

"Anna's pantry?" Elizabeth laughed out loud.

"It's what we call the gaol," said Nathaniel.

"There's a gaol in Paradise? Is it ever used?"

"Oh, aye." Hawkeye nodded. "When old Dubonnet—Dirty—Knife's father—lost his temper over cards and took his tomahawk to Axel, for example. Don't look so surprised! It weren't much of a cut—Dubonnet was drunk, and Axel was fast. He's still drawing breath, after all. But they needed someplace to put Claude until they could decide what to do with him. Anna had an old pantry she didn't use much, so they put a lock on the door and that's been the gaol ever since."

Nathaniel caught a speculative glance from Elizabeth, quickly stifled when she saw herself observed.

"Just one night, Boots."

"Pardon me?" Her tone was slightly affronted. She didn't like being so easily read, but Nathaniel could no more pass up the opportunity to tease her than he could walk by her without touching her.

"I spent a night in Anna's pantry when I was fifteen. I could see you wondering."

"That sounds like a story for another day. I thought we were going to join the party?"

He gestured her into the canoe with a sweep of his arm.

* * *

Once on the lake his good humor fled quickly. In spite of the way the dusk colored the mountains and the lake reflected it back, it looked like bad news to Nathaniel. On the far shore the men had divided themselves into the canoes, two to a craft, and paddled out in complete silence to form a fan that took in about the first third of the marsh. They hovered there, waiting for a signal from Billy Kirby.

Chingachgook had started singing, a low chant to the spirit of the lake. Above his voice Nathaniel could just hear Hawkeye explaining to Elizabeth what was about to happen. The words were indistinct, but he saw her back suddenly straighten and tense. She asked a question, but Hawkeye's answer was interrupted by a shout from the other side of the lake.

"Go to it, boys!"

The far end of the fan moved in first, penetrating the marsh as quickly as the dense growth would allow. There was a great swaying of the reeds, and then the shadows crystallized into distinct shapes: a whole army of wood duck hens with their fledgling young were being forced into the open water by the tightening wedge of canoes.

Chingachgook's melody rose and wavered over the lake as if to meet the frantic danger calls of the hens. The fledglings were paddling furiously, some of them trying to lift themselves into the air without success. Nathaniel scanned the marsh and the lake and estimated forty molting hens with broods of six or eight young, no more than a pound each in weight.