The one on which he had
been seated, and which had evidently just been hewn down, bore the name
of Crowninshield; and he recollected a mighty rich man of that name,
who made a vulgar display of wealth, which it was whispered he had
acquired by buccaneering.
"He's just ready for burning!" said the black man, with a growl of
triumph. "You see I am likely to have a good stock of firewood for
winter."
"But what right have you," said Tom, "to cut down Deacon Peabody's
timber?"
"The right of prior claim," said the other. "This woodland belonged to
me long before one of your white-faced race put foot upon the soil."
"And pray, who are you, if I may be so bold?" said Tom.
"Oh, I go by various names. I am the Wild Huntsman in some countries;
the Black Miner in others. In this neighborhood I am known by the name
of the Black Woodsman. I am he to whom the red men devoted this spot,
and now and then roasted a white man by way of sweet-smelling
sacrifice. Since the red men have been exterminated by you white
savages, I amuse myself by presiding at the persecutions of quakers and
anabaptists; I am the great patron and prompter of slave dealers, and
the grand master of the Salem witches."
"The upshot of all which is, that, if I mistake not," said Tom,
sturdily, "you are he commonly called Old Scratch."
"The same at your service!" replied the black man, with a half civil
nod.
