THE DEERSLAYER

By James Fenimore Cooper


Chapter I.

On the human imagination events produce the effects of time. Thus, he who
has travelled far and seen much is apt to fancy that he has lived long;
and the history that most abounds in important incidents soonest assumes
the aspect of antiquity. In no other way can we account for the venerable
air that is already gathering around American annals. When the mind
reverts to the earliest days of colonial history, the period seems remote
and obscure, the thousand changes that thicken along the links of
recollections, throwing back the origin of the nation to a day so distant
as seemingly to reach the mists of time; and yet four lives of ordinary
duration would suffice to transmit, from mouth to mouth, in the form of
tradition, all that civilized man has achieved within the limits of the
republic. Although New York alone possesses a population materially
exceeding that of either of the four smallest kingdoms of Europe, or
materially exceeding that of the entire Swiss Confederation, it is little
more than two centuries since the Dutch commenced their settlement,
rescuing the region from the savage state. Thus, what seems venerable by
an accumulation of changes is reduced to familiarity when we come
seriously to consider it solely in connection with time.

This glance into the perspective of the past will prepare the reader to
look at the pictures we are about to sketch, with less surprise than he
might otherwise feel; and a few additional explanations may carry him back
in imagination to the precise condition of society that we desire to
delineate. It is matter of history that the settlements on the eastern
shores of the Hudson, such as Claverack, Kinderhook, and even
Poughkeepsie, were not regarded as safe from Indian incursions a century
since; and there is still standing on the banks of the same river, and
within musket-shot of the wharves of Albany, a residence of a younger
branch of the Van Rensselaers, that has loopholes constructed for defence
against the same crafty enemy, although it dates from a period scarcely so
distant. Other similar memorials of the infancy of the country are to be
found, scattered through what is now deemed the very centre of American
civilization, affording the plainest proofs that all we possess of
security from invasion and hostile violence is the growth of but little
more than the time that is frequently fulfilled by a single human life.

The incidents of this tale occurred between the years 1740 and 1745, when
the settled portions of the colony of New York were confined to the four
Atlantic counties, a narrow belt of country on each side of the Hudson,
extending from its mouth to the falls near its head, and to a few advanced
“neighborhoods” on the Mohawk and the Schoharie. Broad belts of the virgin
wilderness not only reached the shores of the first river, but they even
crossed it, stretching away into New England, and affording forest covers
to the noiseless moccasin of the native warrior, as he trod the secret and
bloody war-path. A bird’s-eye view of the whole region east of the
Mississippi must then have offered one vast expanse of woods, relieved by
a comparatively narrow fringe of cultivation along the sea, dotted by the
glittering surfaces of lakes, and intersected by the waving lines of
river. In such a vast picture of solemn solitude, the district of country
we design to paint sinks into insignificance, though we feel encouraged to
proceed by the conviction that, with slight and immaterial distinctions,
he who succeeds in giving an accurate idea of any portion of this wild
region must necessarily convey a tolerably correct notion of the whole.

Whatever may be the changes produced by man, the eternal round of the
seasons is unbroken. Summer and winter, seed-time and harvest, return in
their stated order with a sublime precision, affording to man one of the
noblest of all the occasions he enjoys of proving the high powers of his
far-reaching mind, in compassing the laws that control their exact
uniformity, and in calculating their never-ending revolutions.

Centuries of summer suns had warmed the tops of the same noble oaks and
pines, sending their heats even to the tenacious roots, when voices were
heard calling to each other, in the depths of a forest, of which the leafy
surface lay bathed in the brilliant light of a cloudless day in June,
while the trunks of the trees rose in gloomy grandeur in the shades
beneath. The calls were in different tones, evidently proceeding from two
men who had lost their way, and were searching in different directions for
their path. At length a shout proclaimed success, and presently a man of
gigantic mould broke out of the tangled labyrinth of a small swamp,
emerging into an opening that appeared to have been formed partly by the
ravages of the wind, and partly by those of fire. This little area, which
afforded a good view of the sky, although it was pretty well filled with
dead trees, lay on the side of one of the high hills, or low mountains,
into which nearly the whole surface of the adjacent country was broken.

“Here is room to breathe in!” exclaimed the liberated forester, as soon as
he found himself under a clear sky, shaking his huge frame like a mastiff
that has just escaped from a snowbank. “Hurrah! Deerslayer; here is
daylight, at last, and yonder is the lake.”

These words were scarcely uttered when the second forester dashed aside
the bushes of the swamp, and appeared in the area. After making a hurried
adjustment of his arms and disordered dress, he joined his companion, who
had already begun his disposition for a halt.

“Do you know this spot!” demanded the one called Deerslayer, “or do you
shout at the sight of the sun?”

“Both, lad, both; I know the spot, and am not sorry to see so useful a
fri’nd as the sun. Now we have got the p’ints of the compass in our minds
once more, and ‘t will be our own faults if we let anything turn them
topsy-turvy ag’in, as has just happened. My name is not Hurry Harry, if
this be not the very spot where the land-hunters camped the last summer,
and passed a week. See I yonder are the dead bushes of their bower, and
here is the spring. Much as I like the sun, boy, I’ve no occasion for it
to tell me it is noon; this stomach of mine is as good a time-piece as is
to be found in the colony, and it already p’ints to half-past twelve. So
open the wallet, and let us wind up for another six hours’ run.”

At this suggestion, both set themselves about making the preparations
necessary for their usual frugal but hearty meal. We will profit by this
pause in the discourse to give the reader some idea of the appearance of
the men, each of whom is destined to enact no insignificant part in our
legend.

It would not have been easy to find a more noble specimen of vigorous
manhood than was offered in the person of him who called himself Hurry
Harry. His real name was Henry March but the frontiersmen having caught
the practice of giving sobriquets from the Indians, the appellation of
Hurry was far oftener applied to him than his proper designation, and not
unfrequently he was termed Hurry Skurry, a nickname he had obtained from a
dashing, reckless offhand manner, and a physical restlessness that kept
him so constantly on the move, as to cause him to be known along the whole
line of scattered habitations that lay between the province and the
Canadas. The stature of Hurry Harry exceeded six feet four, and being
unusually well proportioned, his strength fully realized the idea created
by his gigantic frame. The face did no discredit to the rest of the man,
for it was both good-humored and handsome. His air was free, and though
his manner necessarily partook of the rudeness of a border life, the
grandeur that pervaded so noble a physique prevented it from becoming
altogether vulgar.

Deerslayer, as Hurry called his companion, was a very different person in
appearance, as well as in character. In stature he stood about six feet in
his moccasins, but his frame was comparatively light and slender, showing
muscles, however, that promised unusual agility, if not unusual strength.
His face would have had little to recommend it except youth, were it not
for an expression that seldom failed to win upon those who had leisure to
examine it, and to yield to the feeling of confidence it created. This
expression was simply that of guileless truth, sustained by an earnestness
of purpose, and a sincerity of feeling, that rendered it remarkable. At
times this air of integrity seemed to be so simple as to awaken the
suspicion of a want of the usual means to discriminate between artifice
and truth; but few came in serious contact with the man, without losing
this distrust in respect for his opinions and motives.

Both these frontiersmen were still young, Hurry having reached the age of
six or eight and twenty, while Deerslayer was several years his junior.
Their attire needs no particular description, though it may be well to add
that it was composed in no small degree of dressed deer-skins, and had the
usual signs of belonging to those who pass their time between the skirts
of civilized society and the boundless forests. There was,
notwithstanding, some attention to smartness and the picturesque in the
arrangements of Deerslayer’s dress, more particularly in the part
connected with his arms and accoutrements. His rifle was in perfect
condition, the handle of his hunting-knife was neatly carved, his
powder-horn was ornamented with suitable devices lightly cut into the
material, and his shot-pouch was decorated with wampum.

On the other hand, Hurry Harry, either from constitutional recklessness,
or from a secret consciousness how little his appearance required
artificial aids, wore everything in a careless, slovenly manner, as if he
felt a noble scorn for the trifling accessories of dress and ornaments.
Perhaps the peculiar effect of his fine form and great stature was
increased rather than lessened, by this unstudied and disdainful air of
indifference.

“Come, Deerslayer, fall to, and prove that you have a Delaware stomach, as
you say you have had a Delaware edication,” cried Hurry, setting the
example by opening his mouth to receive a slice of cold venison steak that
would have made an entire meal for a European peasant; “fall to, lad, and
prove your manhood on this poor devil of a doe with your teeth, as you’ve
already done with your rifle.”

“Nay, nay, Hurry, there’s little manhood in killing a doe, and that too
out of season; though there might be some in bringing down a painter or a
catamount,” returned the other, disposing himself to comply. “The
Delawares have given me my name, not so much on account of a bold heart,
as on account of a quick eye, and an actyve foot. There may not be any
cowardyce in overcoming a deer, but sartain it is, there’s no great
valor.”

“The Delawares themselves are no heroes,” muttered Hurry through his
teeth, the mouth being too full to permit it to be fairly opened, “or they
would never have allowed them loping vagabonds, the Mingos, to make them
women.”

“That matter is not rightly understood—has never been rightly
explained,” said Deerslayer earnestly, for he was as zealous a friend as
his companion was dangerous as an enemy; “the Mengwe fill the woods with
their lies, and misconstruct words and treaties. I have now lived ten
years with the Delawares, and know them to be as manful as any other
nation, when the proper time to strike comes.”

“Harkee, Master Deerslayer, since we are on the subject, we may as well
open our minds to each other in a man-to-man way; answer me one question;
you have had so much luck among the game as to have gotten a title, it
would seem, but did you ever hit anything human or intelligible: did you
ever pull trigger on an inimy that was capable of pulling one upon you?”

This question produced a singular collision between mortification and
correct feeling, in the bosom of the youth, that was easily to be traced
in the workings of his ingenuous countenance. The struggle was short,
however; uprightness of heart soon getting the better of false pride and
frontier boastfulness.

“To own the truth, I never did,” answered Deerslayer; “seeing that a
fitting occasion never offered. The Delawares have been peaceable since my
sojourn with ’em, and I hold it to be onlawful to take the life of man,
except in open and generous warfare.”

“What! did you never find a fellow thieving among your traps and skins,
and do the law on him with your own hands, by way of saving the
magistrates trouble in the settlements, and the rogue himself the cost of
the suit!”

“I am no trapper, Hurry,” returned the young man proudly: “I live by the
rifle, a we’pon at which I will not turn my back on any man of my years,
atween the Hudson and the St. Lawrence. I never offer a skin that has not
a hole in its head besides them which natur’ made to see with or to
breathe through.”

“Ay, ay, this is all very well, in the animal way, though it makes but a
poor figure alongside of scalps and ambushes. Shooting an Indian from an
ambush is acting up to his own principles, and now we have what you call a
lawful war on our hands, the sooner you wipe that disgrace off your
character, the sounder will be your sleep; if it only come from knowing
there is one inimy the less prowling in the woods. I shall not frequent
your society long, friend Natty, unless you look higher than four-footed
beasts to practice your rifle on.”

“Our journey is nearly ended, you say, Master March, and we can part
to-night, if you see occasion. I have a fri’nd waiting for me, who will
think it no disgrace to consort with a fellow-creatur’ that has never yet
slain his kind.”

“I wish I knew what has brought that skulking Delaware into this part of
the country so early in the season,” muttered Hurry to himself, in a way
to show equally distrust and a recklessness of its betrayal. “Where did
you say the young chief was to give you the meeting?”

“At a small round rock, near the foot of the lake, where they tell me, the
tribes are given to resorting to make their treaties, and to bury their
hatchets. This rock have I often heard the Delawares mention, though lake
and rock are equally strangers to me. The country is claimed by both
Mingos and Mohicans, and is a sort of common territory to fish and hunt
through, in time of peace, though what it may become in war-time, the Lord
only knows!”

“Common territory” exclaimed Hurry, laughing aloud. “I should like to know
what Floating Tom Hutter would say to that! He claims the lake as his own
property, in vartue of fifteen years’ possession, and will not be likely
to give it up to either Mingo or Delaware without a battle for it!”

“And what will the colony say to such a quarrel—all this country
must have some owner, the gentry pushing their cravings into the
wilderness, even where they never dare to ventur’, in their own persons,
to look at the land they own.”

“That may do in other quarters of the colony, Deerslayer, but it will not
do here. Not a human being, the Lord excepted, owns a foot of sile in this
part of the country. Pen was never put to paper consarning either hill or
valley hereaway, as I’ve heard old Tom say time and ag’in, and so he
claims the best right to it of any man breathing; and what Tom claims,
he’ll be very likely to maintain.”

“By what I’ve heard you say, Hurry, this Floating Tom must be an oncommon
mortal; neither Mingo, Delaware, nor pale-face. His possession, too, has
been long, by your tell, and altogether beyond frontier endurance. What’s
the man’s history and natur’?”

“Why, as to old Tom’s human natur’, it is not much like other men’s human
natur’, but more like a muskrat’s human natar’, seeing that he takes more
to the ways of that animal than to the ways of any other fellow-creatur’.
Some think he was a free liver on the salt water, in his youth, and a
companion of a sartain Kidd, who was hanged for piracy, long afore you and
I were born or acquainted, and that he came up into these regions,
thinking that the king’s cruisers could never cross the mountains, and
that he might enjoy the plunder peaceably in the woods.”

“Then he was wrong, Hurry; very wrong. A man can enjoy plunder peaceably
nowhere.”

“That’s much as his turn of mind may happen to be. I’ve known them that
never could enjoy it at all, unless it was in the midst of a
jollification, and them again that enjoyed it best in a corner. Some men
have no peace if they don’t find plunder, and some if they do. Human
nature’ is crooked in these matters. Old Tom seems to belong to neither
set, as he enjoys his, if plunder he has really got, with his darters, in
a very quiet and comfortable way, and wishes for no more.”

“Ay, he has darters, too; I’ve heard the Delawares, who’ve hunted this a
way, tell their histories of these young women. Is there no mother,
Hurry?”

“There was once, as in reason; but she has now been dead and sunk these
two good years.”

“Anan?” said Deerslayer, looking up at his companion in a little surprise.

“Dead and sunk, I say, and I hope that’s good English. The old fellow
lowered his wife into the lake, by way of seeing the last of her, as I can
testify, being an eye-witness of the ceremony; but whether Tom did it to
save digging, which is no easy job among roots, or out of a consait that
water washes away sin sooner than ‘arth, is more than I can say.”

“Was the poor woman oncommon wicked, that her husband should take so much
pains with her body?”

“Not onreasonable; though she had her faults. I consider Judith Hutter to
have been as graceful, and about as likely to make a good ind as any woman
who had lived so long beyond the sound of church bells; and I conclude old
Tom sunk her as much by way of saving pains, as by way of taking it. There
was a little steel in her temper, it’s true, and, as old Hutter is pretty
much flint, they struck out sparks once-and-a-while; but, on the whole,
they might be said to live amicable like. When they did kindle, the
listeners got some such insights into their past lives, as one gets into
the darker parts of the woods, when a stray gleam of sunshine finds its
way down to the roots of the trees. But Judith I shall always esteem, as
it’s recommend enough to one woman to be the mother of such a creatur’ as
her darter, Judith Hutter!”

“Ay, Judith was the name the Delawares mentioned, though it was pronounced
after a fashion of their own. From their discourse, I do not think the
girl would much please my fancy.”

“Thy fancy!” exclaimed March, taking fire equally at the indifference and
at the presumption of his companion, “what the devil have you to do with a
fancy, and that, too, consarning one like Judith? You are but a boy—a
sapling, that has scarce got root. Judith has had men among her suitors,
ever since she was fifteen; which is now near five years; and will not be
apt even to cast a look upon a half-grown creatur’ like you!”

“It is June, and there is not a cloud atween us and the sun, Hurry, so all
this heat is not wanted,” answered the other, altogether undisturbed; “any
one may have a fancy, and a squirrel has a right to make up his mind
touching a catamount.”

“Ay, but it might not be wise, always, to let the catamount know it,”
growled March. “But you’re young and thoughtless, and I’ll overlook your
ignorance. Come, Deerslayer,” he added, with a good-natured laugh, after
pausing a moment to reflect, “come, Deerslayer, we are sworn friends, and
will not quarrel about a light-minded, jilting jade, just because she
happens to be handsome; more especially as you have never seen her. Judith
is only for a man whose teeth show the full marks, and it’s foolish to be
afeard of a boy. What did the Delawares say of the hussy? for an Indian,
after all, has his notions of woman-kind, as well as a white man.”

“They said she was fair to look on, and pleasant of speech; but over-given
to admirers, and light-minded.”

“They are devils incarnate! After all, what schoolmaster is a match for an
Indian, in looking into natur’! Some people think they are only good on a
trail or the war-path, but I say that they are philosophers, and
understand a man as well as they understand a beaver, and a woman as well
as they understand either. Now that’s Judith’s character to a ribbon! To
own the truth to you, Deerslayer, I should have married the gal two years
since, if it had not been for two particular things, one of which was this
very lightmindedness.”

“And what may have been the other?” demanded the hunter, who continued to
eat like one that took very little interest in the subject.

“T’other was an insartainty about her having me. The hussy is handsome,
and she knows it. Boy, not a tree that is growing in these hills is
straighter, or waves in the wind with an easier bend, nor did you ever see
the doe that bounded with a more nat’ral motion. If that was all, every
tongue would sound her praises; but she has such failings that I find it
hard to overlook them, and sometimes I swear I’ll never visit the lake
again.”

“Which is the reason that you always come back? Nothing is ever made more
sure by swearing about it.”

“Ah, Deerslayer, you are a novelty in these particulars; keeping as true
to education as if you had never left the settlements. With me the case is
different, and I never want to clinch an idee, that I do not feel a wish
to swear about it. If you know’d all that I know consarning Judith, you’d
find a justification for a little cussing. Now, the officers sometimes
stray over to the lake, from the forts on the Mohawk, to fish and hunt,
and then the creatur’ seems beside herself! You can see in the manner
which she wears her finery, and the airs she gives herself with the
gallants.”

“That is unseemly in a poor man’s darter,” returned Deerslayer gravely,
“the officers are all gentry, and can only look on such as Judith with
evil intentions.”

“There’s the unsartainty, and the damper! I have my misgivings about a
particular captain, and Jude has no one to blame but her own folly, if I’m
right. On the whole, I wish to look upon her as modest and becoming, and
yet the clouds that drive among these hills are not more unsartain. Not a
dozen white men have ever laid eyes upon her since she was a child, and
yet her airs, with two or three of these officers, are extinguishers!”

“I would think no more of such a woman, but turn my mind altogether to the
forest; that will not deceive you, being ordered and ruled by a hand that
never wavers.”

“If you know’d Judith, you would see how much easier it is to say this
than it would be to do it. Could I bring my mind to be easy about the
officers, I would carry the gal off to the Mohawk by force, make her marry
me in spite of her whiffling, and leave old Tom to the care of Hetty, his
other child, who, if she be not as handsome or as quick-witted as her
sister, is much the most dutiful.”

“Is there another bird in the same nest!” asked Deerslayer, raising his
eyes with a species of half-awakened curiosity, “the Delawares spoke to me
only of one.”

“That’s nat’ral enough, when Judith Hutter and Hetty Hutter are in
question. Hetty is only comely, while her sister, I tell thee, boy, is
such another as is not to be found atween this and the sea: Judith is as
full of wit, and talk, and cunning, as an old Indian orator, while poor
Hetty is at the best but ‘compass’ meant us.”

“Anan?” inquired, again, the Deerslayer.

“Why, what the officers call ‘compass meant us,’ which I understand to
signify that she means always to go in the right direction, but sometimes
does not know how. ‘Compass’for the p’int, and ‘meant us’ for the
intention. No, poor Hetty is what I call on the verge of ignorance, and
sometimes she stumbles on one side of the line, and sometimes on t’other.”

“Them are beings that the Lord has in his special care,” said Deerslayer,
solemnly; “for he looks carefully to all who fall short of their proper
share of reason. The red-skins honor and respect them who are so gifted,
knowing that the Evil Spirit delights more to dwell in an artful body,
than in one that has no cunning to work upon.”

“I’ll answer for it, then, that he will not remain long with poor Hetty;
for the child is just ‘compass meant us,’ as I have told you. Old Tom has
a feeling for the gal, and so has Judith, quick-witted and glorious as she
is herself; else would I not answer for her being altogether safe among
the sort of men that sometimes meet on the lake shore.”

“I thought this water an unknown and little-frequented sheet,” observed
the Deerslayer, evidently uneasy at the idea of being too near the world.

“It’s all that, lad, the eyes of twenty white men never having been laid
on it; still, twenty true-bred frontiersmen—hunters and trappers,
and scouts, and the like,—can do a deal of mischief if they try. ‘T
would be an awful thing to me, Deerslayer, did I find Judith married,
after an absence of six months!”

“Have you the gal’s faith, to encourage you to hope otherwise?”

“Not at all. I know not how it is: I’m good-looking, boy,—that much
I can see in any spring on which the sun shines,—and yet I could not
get the hussy to a promise, or even a cordial willing smile, though she
will laugh by the hour. If she has dared to marry in my absence, she’d be
like to know the pleasures of widowhood afore she is twenty!”

“You would not harm the man she has chosen, Hurry, simply because she
found him more to her liking than yourself!”

“Why not! If an enemy crosses my path, will I not beat him out of it! Look
at me! am I a man like to let any sneaking, crawling, skin-trader get the
better of me in a matter that touches me as near as the kindness of Judith
Hutter! Besides, when we live beyond law, we must be our own judges and
executioners. And if a man should be found dead in the woods, who is there
to say who slew him, even admitting that the colony took the matter in
hand and made a stir about it?”

“If that man should be Judith Hutter’s husband, after what has passed, I
might tell enough, at least, to put the colony on the trail.”

“You!—half-grown, venison-hunting bantling! You dare to think of
informing against Hurry Harry in so much as a matter touching a mink or a
woodchuck!”

“I would dare to speak truth, Hurry, consarning you or any man that ever
lived.”

March looked at his companion, for a moment, in silent amazement; then
seizing him by the throat with both hands, he shook his comparatively
slight frame with a violence that menaced the dislocation of some of the
bones. Nor was this done jocularly, for anger flashed from the giant’s
eyes, and there were certain signs that seemed to threaten much more
earnestness than the occasion would appear to call for. Whatever might be
the real intention of March, and it is probable there was none settled in
his mind, it is certain that he was unusually aroused; and most men who
found themselves throttled by one of a mould so gigantic, in such a mood,
and in a solitude so deep and helpless, would have felt intimidated, and
tempted to yield even the right. Not so, however, with Deerslayer. His
countenance remained unmoved; his hand did not shake, and his answer was
given in a voice that did not resort to the artifice of louder tones, even
by way of proving its owner’s resolution.

“You may shake, Hurry, until you bring down the mountain,” he said
quietly, “but nothing beside truth will you shake from me. It is probable
that Judith Hutter has no husband to slay, and you may never have a chance
to waylay one, else would I tell her of your threat, in the first
conversation I held with the gal.”

March released his grip, and sat regarding the other in silent
astonishment.

“I thought we had been friends,” he at length added; “but you’ve got the
last secret of mine that will ever enter your ears.”

“I want none, if they are to be like this. I know we live in the woods,
Hurry, and are thought to be beyond human laws,—and perhaps we are
so, in fact, whatever it may be in right,—but there is a law and a
law-maker, that rule across the whole continent. He that flies in the face
of either need not call me a friend.”

“Damme, Deerslayer, if I do not believe you are at heart a Moravian, and
no fair-minded, plain-dealing hunter, as you’ve pretended to be!”

“Fair-minded or not, Hurry, you will find me as plaindealing in deeds as I
am in words. But this giving way to sudden anger is foolish, and proves
how little you have sojourned with the red man. Judith Hutter no doubt is
still single, and you spoke but as the tongue ran, and not as the heart
felt. There’s my hand, and we will say and think no more about it.”

Hurry seemed more surprised than ever; then he burst forth in a loud,
good-natured laugh, which brought tears to his eyes. After this he
accepted the offered hand, and the parties became friends.

“’T would have been foolish to quarrel about an idee,” March cried, as he
resumed his meal, “and more like lawyers in the towns than like sensible
men in the woods. They tell me, Deerslayer, much ill-blood grows out of
idees among the people in the lower counties, and that they sometimes get
to extremities upon them.”

“That do they,—that do they; and about other matters that might
better be left to take care of themselves. I have heard the Moravians say
that there are lands in which men quarrel even consarning their religion;
and if they can get their tempers up on such a subject, Hurry, the Lord
have Marcy on ’em. Howsoever, there is no occasion for our following their
example, and more especially about a husband that this Judith Hutter may
never see, or never wish to see. For my part, I feel more cur’osity about
the feeble-witted sister than about your beauty. There’s something that
comes close to a man’s feelin’s, when he meets with a fellow-creatur’ that
has all the outward show of an accountable mortal, and who fails of being
what he seems, only through a lack of reason. This is bad enough in a man,
but when it comes to a woman, and she a young, and maybe a winning
creatur’ it touches all the pitiful thoughts his natur’ has. God knows,
Hurry, that such poor things be defenceless enough with all their wits
about ’em; but it’s a cruel fortun’ when that great protector and guide
fails ’em.”

“Hark, Deerslayer,—you know what the hunters, and trappers, and
peltry-men in general be; and their best friends will not deny that they
are headstrong and given to having their own way, without much bethinking
’em of other people’s rights or feelin’s,—and yet I don’t think the
man is to be found, in all this region, who would harm Hetty Hutter, if he
could; no, not even a red-skin.”

“Therein, fri’nd Hurry, you do the Delawares, at least, and all their
allied tribes, only justice, for a red-skin looks upon a being thus struck
by God’s power as especially under his care. I rejoice to hear what you
say, however, I rejoice to hear it; but as the sun is beginning to turn
towards the afternoon’s sky, had we not better strike the trail again, and
make forward, that we may get an opportunity of seeing these wonderful
sisters?”

Harry March giving a cheerful assent, the remnants of the meal were soon
collected; then the travelers shouldered their packs, resumed their arms,
and, quitting the little area of light, they again plunged into the deep
shadows of the forest.


Chapter II.

Our two adventurers had not far to go. Hurry knew the direction, as soon
as he had found the open spot and the spring, and he now led on with the
confident step of a man assured of his object. The forest was dark, as a
matter of course, but it was no longer obstructed by underbrush, and the
footing was firm and dry. After proceeding near a mile, March stopped, and
began to cast about him with an inquiring look, examining the different
objects with care, and occasionally turning his eyes on the trunks of the
fallen trees, with which the ground was well sprinkled, as is usually the
case in an American wood, especially in those parts of the country where
timber has not yet become valuable.

“This must be the place, Deerslayer,” March at length observed; “here is a
beech by the side of a hemlock, with three pines at hand, and yonder is a
white birch with a broken top; and yet I see no rock, nor any of the
branches bent down, as I told you would be the case.”

“Broken branches are onskilful landmarks, as the least exper’enced know
that branches don’t often break of themselves,” returned the other; “and
they also lead to suspicion and discoveries. The Delawares never trust to
broken branches, unless it is in friendly times, and on an open trail. As
for the beeches, and pines, and hemlocks, why, they are to be seen on all
sides of us, not only by twos and threes, but by forties, and fifties, and
hundreds.”

“Very true, Deerslayer, but you never calculate on position. Here is a
beech and a hemlock—”

“Yes, and there is another beech and a hemlock, as loving as two brothers,
or, for that matter, more loving than some brothers; and yonder are
others, for neither tree is a rarity in these woods. I fear me, Hurry, you
are better at trapping beaver and shooting bears, than at leading on a
blindish sort of a trail. Ha! there’s what you wish to find, a’ter all!”

“Now, Deerslayer, this is one of your Delaware pretensions, for hang me if
I see anything but these trees, which do seem to start up around us in a
most onaccountable and perplexing manner.”

“Look this-a-way, Hurry—here, in a line with the black oak—don’t
you see the crooked sapling that is hooked up in the branches of the
bass-wood, near it? Now, that sapling was once snow-ridden, and got the
bend by its weight; but it never straightened itself, and fastened itself
in among the bass-wood branches in the way you see. The hand of man did
that act of kindness for it.”

“That hand was mine!” exclaimed Hurry; “I found the slender young thing
bent to the airth, like an unfortunate creatur’ borne down by misfortune,
and stuck it up where you see it. After all, Deerslayer, I must allow,
you’re getting to have an oncommon good eye for the woods!”

“’Tis improving, Hurry—’tis improving I will acknowledge; but ’tis
only a child’s eye, compared to some I know. There’s Tamenund, now, though
a man so old that few remember when he was in his prime, Tamenund lets
nothing escape his look, which is more like the scent of a hound than the
sight of an eye. Then Uncas, the father of Chingachgook, and the lawful
chief of the Mohicans, is another that it is almost hopeless to pass
unseen. I’m improving, I will allow—I’m improving, but far from
being perfect, as yet.”

“And who is this Chingachgook, of whom you talk so much, Deerslayer!”
asked Hurry, as he moved off in the direction of the righted sapling; “a
loping red-skin, at the best, I make no question.”

“Not so, Hurry, but the best of loping red-skins, as you call ’em. If he
had his rights, he would be a great chief; but, as it is, he is only a
brave and just-minded Delaware; respected, and even obeyed in some
things, ’tis true, but of a fallen race, and belonging to a fallen people.
Ah! Harry March, ‘twould warm the heart within you to sit in their lodges
of a winter’s night, and listen to the traditions of the ancient greatness
and power of the Mohicans!”

“Harkee, fri’nd Nathaniel,” said Hurry, stopping short to face his
companion, in order that his words might carry greater weight with them,
“if a man believed all that other people choose to say in their own favor,
he might get an oversized opinion of them, and an undersized opinion of
himself. These red-skins are notable boasters, and I set down more than
half of their traditions as pure talk.”

“There is truth in what you say, Hurry, I’ll not deny it, for I’ve seen
it, and believe it. They do boast, but then that is a gift from natur’;
and it’s sinful to withstand nat’ral gifts. See; this is the spot you come
to find!” This remark cut short the discourse, and both the men now gave
all their attention to the object immediately before them. Deerslayer
pointed out to his companion the trunk of a huge linden, or bass-wood, as
it is termed in the language of the country, which had filled its time,
and fallen by its own weight. This tree, like so many millions of its
brethren, lay where it had fallen, and was mouldering under the slow but
certain influence of the seasons. The decay, however, had attacked its
centre, even while it stood erect in the pride of vegetation, bellowing
out its heart, as disease sometimes destroys the vitals of animal life,
even while a fair exterior is presented to the observer. As the trunk lay
stretched for near a hundred feet along the earth, the quick eye of the
hunter detected this peculiarity, and from this and other circumstances,
he knew it to be the tree of which March was in search.

“Ay, here we have what we want,” cried Hurry, looking in at the larger end
of the linden; “everything is as snug as if it had been left in an old
woman’s cupboard. Come, lend me a hand, Deerslayer, and we’ll be afloat in
half an hour.”

At this call the hunter joined his companion, and the two went to work
deliberately and regularly, like men accustomed to the sort of thing in
which they were employed. In the first place, Hurry removed some pieces of
bark that lay before the large opening in the tree, and which the other
declared to be disposed in a way that would have been more likely to
attract attention than to conceal the cover, had any straggler passed that
way. The two then drew out a bark canoe, containing its seats, paddles,
and other appliances, even to fishing-lines and rods. This vessel was by
no means small; but such was its comparative lightness, and so gigantic
was the strength of Hurry, that the latter shouldered it with seeming
ease, declining all assistance, even in the act of raising it to the
awkward position in which he was obliged to hold it.

“Lead ahead, Deerslayer,” said March, “and open the bushes; the rest I can
do for myself.”

The other obeyed, and the men left the spot, Deerslayer clearing the way
for his companion, and inclining to the right or to the left, as the
latter directed. In about ten minutes they both broke suddenly into the
brilliant light of the sun, on a low gravelly point, that was washed by
water on quite half its outline.

An exclamation of surprise broke from the lips of Deerslayer, an
exclamation that was low and guardedly made, however, for his habits were
much more thoughtful and regulated than those of the reckless Hurry, when
on reaching the margin of the lake, he beheld the view that unexpectedly
met his gaze. It was, in truth, sufficiently striking to merit a brief
description. On a level with the point lay a broad sheet of water, so
placid and limpid that it resembled a bed of the pure mountain atmosphere,
compressed into a setting of hills and woods. Its length was about three
leagues, while its breadth was irregular, expanding to half a league, or
even more, opposite to the point, and contracting to less than half that
distance, more to the southward. Of course, its margin was irregular,
being indented by bays, and broken by many projecting, low points. At its
northern, or nearest end, it was bounded by an isolated mountain, lower
land falling off east and west, gracefully relieving the sweep of the
outline. Still the character of the country was mountainous; high hills,
or low mountains, rising abruptly from the water, on quite nine tenths of
its circuit. The exceptions, indeed, only served a little to vary the
scene; and even beyond the parts of the shore that were comparatively low,
the background was high, though more distant.

But the most striking peculiarities of this scene were its solemn solitude
and sweet repose. On all sides, wherever the eye turned, nothing met it
but the mirror-like surface of the lake, the placid view of heaven, and
the dense setting of woods. So rich and fleecy were the outlines of the
forest, that scarce an opening could be seen, the whole visible earth,
from the rounded mountain-top to the water’s edge, presenting one unvaried
hue of unbroken verdure. As if vegetation were not satisfied with a
triumph so complete, the trees overhung the lake itself, shooting out
towards the light; and there were miles along its eastern shore, where a
boat might have pulled beneath the branches of dark Rembrandt-looking
hemlocks, “quivering aspens,” and melancholy pines. In a word, the hand of
man had never yet defaced or deformed any part of this native scene, which
lay bathed in the sunlight, a glorious picture of affluent forest
grandeur, softened by the balminess of June, and relieved by the beautiful
variety afforded by the presence of so broad an expanse of water.

“This is grand!—’tis solemn!—’tis an edication of itself, to
look upon!” exclaimed Deerslayer, as he stood leaning on his rifle, and
gazing to the right and left, north and south, above and beneath, in
whichever direction his eye could wander; “not a tree disturbed even by
red-skin hand, as I can discover, but everything left in the ordering of
the Lord, to live and die according to his own designs and laws! Hurry,
your Judith ought to be a moral and well disposed young woman, if she has
passed half the time you mention in the centre of a spot so favored.”

“That’s naked truth; and yet the gal has the vagaries. All her time has
not been passed here, howsoever, old Tom having the custom, afore I know’d
him, of going to spend the winters in the neighborhood of the settlers, or
under the guns of the forts. No, no, Jude has caught more than is for her
good from the settlers, and especially from the gallantifying officers.”

“If she has—if she has, Hurry, this is a school to set her mind
right ag’in. But what is this I see off here, abreast of us, that seems
too small for an island, and too large for a boat, though it stands in the
midst of the water!

“Why, that is what these galantine gentry from the forts call Muskrat
Castle; and old Tom himself will grin at the name, though it bears so hard
on his own natur’ and character. ‘Tis the stationary house, there being
two; this, which never moves, and the other, that floats, being sometimes
in one part of the lake and sometimes in another. The last goes by the
name of the ark, though what may be the meaning of the word is more than I
can tell you.”

“It must come from the missionaries, Hurry, whom I have heard speak and
read of such a thing. They say that the ‘arth was once covered with water,
and that Noah, with his children, was saved from drowning by building a
vessel called an ark, in which he embarked in season. Some of the
Delawares believe this tradition, and some deny it; but it behooves you
and me, as white men born, to put our faith in its truth. Do you see
anything of this ark?”

“’Tis down south, no doubt, or anchored in some of the bays. But the canoe
is ready, and fifteen minutes will carry two such paddles as your’n and
mine to the castle.”

At this suggestion, Deerslayer helped his companion to place the different
articles in the canoe, which was already afloat. This was no sooner done
than the two frontiermen embarked, and by a vigorous push sent the light
bark some eight or ten rods from the shore. Hurry now took the seat in the
stern, while Deerslayer placed himself forward, and by leisurely but
steady strokes of the paddles, the canoe glided across the placid sheet,
towards the extraordinary-looking structure that the former had styled
Muskrat Castle. Several times the men ceased paddling, and looked about
them at the scene, as new glimpses opened from behind points, enabling
them to see farther down the lake, or to get broader views of the wooded
mountains. The only changes, however, were in the new forms of the hills,
the varying curvature of the bays, and the wider reaches of the valley
south; the whole earth apparently being clothed in a gala-dress of leaves.

“This is a sight to warm the heart!” exclaimed Deerslayer, when they had
thus stopped for the fourth or fifth time; “the lake seems made to let us
get an insight into the noble forests; and land and water alike stand in
the beauty of God’s providence! Do you say, Hurry, that there is no man
who calls himself lawful owner of all these glories?”

“None but the King, lad. He may pretend to some right of that natur’, but
he is so far away that his claim will never trouble old Tom Hutter, who
has got possession, and is like to keep it as long as his life lasts. Tom
is no squatter, not being on land; I call him a floater.”

“I invy that man! I know it’s wrong, and I strive ag’in the feelin’, but I
invy that man! Don’t think, Hurry, that I’m consorting any plan to put
myself in his moccasins, for such a thought doesn’t harbor in my mind; but
I can’t help a little invy! ‘Tis a nat’ral feelin’, and the best of us are
but nat’ral, a’ter all, and give way to such feelin’s at times.”

“You’ve only to marry Hetty to inherit half the estate,” cried Hurry,
laughing; “the gal is comely; nay, if it wasn’t for her sister’s beauty
she would be even handsome; and then her wits are so small that you may
easily convart her into one of your own way of thinking, in all things. Do
you take Hetty off the old fellow’s hands, and I’ll engage he’ll give you
an interest in every deer you can knock over within five miles of his
lake.”

“Does game abound!” suddenly demanded the other, who paid but little
attention to March’s raillery.

“It has the country to itself. Scarce a trigger is pulled on it; and as
for the trappers, this is not a region they greatly frequent. I ought not
to be so much here myself, but Jude pulls one way, while the beaver pulls
another. More than a hundred Spanish dollars has that creatur’ cost me the
last two seasons, and yet I could not forego the wish to look upon her
face once more.”

“Do the redmen often visit this lake, Hurry?” continued Deerslayer,
pursuing his own train of thought.

“Why, they come and go; sometimes in parties, and sometimes singly. The
country seems to belong to no native tribe in particular; and so it has
fallen into the hands of the Hutter tribe. The old man tells me that some
sharp ones have been wheedling the Mohawks for an Indian deed, in order to
get a title out of the colony; but nothing has come of it, seeing that no
one heavy enough for such a trade has yet meddled with the matter. The
hunters have a good life-lease still of this wilderness.”

“So much the better, so much the better, Hurry. If I was King of England,
the man that felled one of these trees without good occasion for the
timber, should be banished to a desarted and forlorn region, in which no
fourfooted animal ever trod. Right glad am I that Chingachgook app’inted
our meeting on this lake, for hitherto eye of mine never looked on such a
glorious spectacle.”

“That’s because you’ve kept so much among the Delawares, in whose country
there are no lakes. Now, farther north and farther west these bits of
water abound; and you’re young, and may yet live to see ’em. But though
there be other lakes, Deerslayer, there’s no other Judith Hutter!”

At this remark his companion smiled, and then he dropped his paddle into
the water, as if in consideration of a lover’s haste. Both now pulled
vigorously until they got within a hundred yards of the “castle,” as Hurry
familiarly called the house of Hutter, when they again ceased paddling;
the admirer of Judith restraining his impatience the more readily, as he
perceived that the building was untenanted, at the moment. This new pause
was to enable Deerslayer to survey the singular edifice, which was of a
construction so novel as to merit a particular description.

Muskrat Castle, as the house had been facetiously named by some waggish
officer, stood in the open lake, at a distance of fully a quarter of a
mile from the nearest shore. On every other side the water extended much
farther, the precise position being distant about two miles from the
northern end of the sheet, and near, if not quite, a mile from its eastern
shore. As there was not the smallest appearance of any island, but the
house stood on piles, with the water flowing beneath it, and Deerslayer
had already discovered that the lake was of a great depth, he was fain to
ask an explanation of this singular circumstance. Hurry solved the
difficulty by telling him that on this spot alone, a long, narrow shoal,
which extended for a few hundred yards in a north and south direction,
rose within six or eight feet of the surface of the lake, and that Hutter
had driven piles into it, and placed his habitation on them, for the
purpose of security.

“The old fellow was burnt out three times, atween the Indians and the
hunters; and in one affray with the red-skins he lost his only son, since
which time he has taken to the water for safety. No one can attack him
here, without coming in a boat, and the plunder and scalps would scarce be
worth the trouble of digging out canoes. Then it’s by no means sartain
which would whip in such a scrimmage, for old Tom is well supplied with
arms and ammunition, and the castle, as you may see, is a tight breastwork
ag’in light shot.”

Deerslayer had some theoretical knowledge of frontier warfare, though he
had never yet been called on to raise his hand in anger against a
fellow-creature. He saw that Hurry did not overrate the strength of this
position in a military point of view, since it would not be easy to attack
it without exposing the assailants to the fire of the besieged. A good
deal of art had also been manifested in the disposition of the timber of
which the building was constructed and which afforded a protection much
greater than was usual to the ordinary log-cabins of the frontier. The
sides and ends were composed of the trunks of large pines, cut about nine
feet long, and placed upright, instead of being laid horizontally, as was
the practice of the country. These logs were squared on three sides, and
had large tenons on each end. Massive sills were secured on the heads of
the piles, with suitable grooves dug out of their upper surfaces, which
had been squared for the purpose, and the lower tenons of the upright
pieces were placed in these grooves, giving them secure fastening below.
Plates had been laid on the upper ends of the upright logs, and were kept
in their places by a similar contrivance; the several corners of the
structure being well fastened by scarfing and pinning the sills and
plates. The doors were made of smaller logs, similarly squared, and the
roof was composed of light poles, firmly united, and well covered with
bark.

The effect of this ingenious arrangement was to give its owner a house
that could be approached only by water, the sides of which were composed
of logs closely wedged together, which were two feet thick in their
thinnest parts, and which could be separated only by a deliberate and
laborious use of human hands, or by the slow operation of time. The outer
surface of the building was rude and uneven, the logs being of unequal
sizes; but the squared surfaces within gave both the sides and door as
uniform an appearance as was desired, either for use or show. The chimney
was not the least singular portion of the castle, as Hurry made his
companion observe, while he explained the process by which it had been
made. The material was a stiff clay, properly worked, which had been put
together in a mould of sticks, and suffered to harden, a foot or two at a
time, commencing at the bottom. When the entire chimney had thus been
raised, and had been properly bound in with outward props, a brisk fire
was kindled, and kept going until it was burned to something like a
brick-red. This had not been an easy operation, nor had it succeeded
entirely; but by dint of filling the cracks with fresh clay, a safe
fireplace and chimney had been obtained in the end. This part of the work
stood on the log-door, secured beneath by an extra pile. There were a few
other peculiarities about this dwelling, which will better appear in the
course of the narrative.

“Old Tom is full of contrivances,” added Hurry, “and he set his heart on
the success of his chimney, which threatened more than once to give out
altogether; but perseverance will even overcome smoke; and now he has a
comfortable cabin of it, though it did promise, at one time, to be a
chinky sort of a flue to carry flames and fire.”

“You seem to know the whole history of the castle, Hurry, chimney and
sides,” said Deerslayer, smiling; “is love so overcoming that it causes a
man to study the story of his sweetheart’s habitation?”

“Partly that, lad, and partly eyesight,” returned the good-natured giant,
laughing; “there was a large gang of us in the lake, the summer the old
fellow built, and we helped him along with the job. I raised no small part
of the weight of them uprights with my own shoulders, and the axes flew, I
can inform you, Master Natty, while we were bee-ing it among the trees
ashore. The old devil is no way stingy about food, and as we had often eat
at his hearth, we thought we would just house him comfortably, afore we
went to Albany with our skins. Yes, many is the meal I’ve swallowed in Tom
Hutter’s cabins; and Hetty, though so weak in the way of wits, has a
wonderful particular way about a frying-pan or a gridiron!

“While the parties were thus discoursing, the canoe had been gradually
drawing nearer to the “castle,” and was now so close as to require but a
single stroke of a paddle to reach the landing. This was at a floored
platform in front of the entrance, that might have been some twenty feet
square.

“Old Tom calls this sort of a wharf his door-yard,” observed Hurry, as he
fastened the canoe, after he and his Companion had left it: “and the
gallants from the forts have named it the castle court though what a
‘court’ can have to do here is more than I can tell you, seeing that there
is no law. ‘Tis as I supposed; not a soul within, but the whole family is
off on a v’y’ge of discovery!”

While Hurry was bustling about the “door-yard,” examining the
fishing-spears, rods, nets, and other similar appliances of a frontier
cabin, Deerslayer, whose manner was altogether more rebuked and quiet,
entered the building with a curiosity that was not usually exhibited by
one so long trained in Indian habits. The interior of the “castle” was as
faultlessly neat as its exterior was novel. The entire space, some twenty
feet by forty, was subdivided into several small sleeping-rooms; the
apartment into which he first entered, serving equally for the ordinary
uses of its inmates, and for a kitchen. The furniture was of the strange
mixture that it is not uncommon to find in the remotely situated
log-tenements of the interior. Most of it was rude, and to the last degree
rustic; but there was a clock, with a handsome case of dark wood, in a
corner, and two or three chairs, with a table and bureau, that had
evidently come from some dwelling of more than usual pretension. The clock
was industriously ticking, but its leaden-looking hands did no discredit
to their dull aspect, for they pointed to the hour of eleven, though the
sun plainly showed it was some time past the turn of the day. There was
also a dark, massive chest. The kitchen utensils were of the simplest
kind, and far from numerous, but every article was in its place, and
showed the nicest care in its condition.

After Deerslayer had cast a look about him in the outer room, he raised a
wooden latch, and entered a narrow passage that divided the inner end of
the house into two equal parts. Frontier usages being no way scrupulous,
and his curiosity being strongly excited, the young man now opened a door,
and found himself in a bedroom. A single glance sufficed to show that the
apartment belonged to females. The bed was of the feathers of wild geese,
and filled nearly to overflowing; but it lay in a rude bunk, raised only a
foot from the door. On one side of it were arranged, on pegs, various
dresses, of a quality much superior to what one would expect to meet in
such a place, with ribbons and other similar articles to correspond.
Pretty shoes, with handsome silver buckles, such as were then worn by
females in easy circumstances, were not wanting; and no less than six
fans, of gay colors, were placed half open, in a way to catch the eye by
their conceits and hues. Even the pillow, on this side of the bed, was
covered with finer linen than its companion, and it was ornamented with a
small ruffle. A cap, coquettishly decorated with ribbons, hung above it,
and a pair of long gloves, such as were rarely used in those days by
persons of the laboring classes, were pinned ostentatiously to it, as if
with an intention to exhibit them there, if they could not be shown on the
owner’s arms.

All this Deerslayer saw, and noted with a degree of minuteness that would
have done credit to the habitual observation of his friends, the
Delawares. Nor did he fail to perceive the distinction that existed
between the appearances on the different sides of the bed, the head of
which stood against the wall. On that opposite to the one just described,
everything was homely and uninviting, except through its perfect neatness.
The few garments that were hanging from the pegs were of the coarsest
materials and of the commonest forms, while nothing seemed made for show.
Of ribbons there was not one; nor was there either cap or kerchief beyond
those which Hutter’s daughters might be fairly entitled to wear.

It was now several years since Deerslayer had been in a spot especially
devoted to the uses of females of his own color and race. The sight
brought back to his mind a rush of childish recollections; and he lingered
in the room with a tenderness of feeling to which he had long been a
stranger. He bethought him of his mother, whose homely vestments he
remembered to have seen hanging on pegs like those which he felt must
belong to Hetty Hutter; and he bethought himself of a sister, whose
incipient and native taste for finery had exhibited itself somewhat in the
manner of that of Judith, though necessarily in a less degree. These
little resemblances opened a long hidden vein of sensations; and as he
quitted the room, it was with a saddened mien. He looked no further, but
returned slowly and thoughtfully towards the “door-yard.”

“If Old Tom has taken to a new calling, and has been trying his hand at
the traps,” cried Hurry, who had been coolly examining the borderer’s
implements; “if that is his humor, and you’re disposed to remain in these
parts, we can make an oncommon comfortable season of it; for, while the
old man and I out-knowledge the beaver, you can fish, and knock down the
deer, to keep body and soul together. I’ve always give the poorest hunters
half a share, but one as actyve and sartain as yourself might expect a
full one.”

“Thank’ee, Hurry; thank’ee, with all my heart—but I do a little
beavering for myself as occasions offer. ‘Tis true, the Delawares call me
Deerslayer, but it’s not so much because I’m pretty fatal with the venison
as because that while I kill so many bucks and does, I’ve never yet taken
the life of a fellow-creatur’. They say their traditions do not tell of
another who had shed so much blood of animals that had not shed the blood
of man.”

“I hope they don’t account you chicken-hearted, lad! A faint-hearted man
is like a no-tailed beaver.”

“I don’t believe, Hurry, that they account me as out-of-the-way timorsome,
even though they may not account me as out-of-the-way brave. But I’m not
quarrelsome; and that goes a great way towards keeping blood off the
hands, among the hunters and red-skins; and then, Harry March, it keeps
blood off the conscience, too.”

“Well, for my part I account game, a red-skin, and a Frenchman as pretty
much the same thing; though I’m as onquarrelsome a man, too, as there is
in all the colonies. I despise a quarreller as I do a cur-dog; but one has
no need to be over-scrupulsome when it’s the right time to show the
flint.”

“I look upon him as the most of a man who acts nearest the right, Hurry.
But this is a glorious spot, and my eyes never a-weary looking at it!”

“Tis your first acquaintance with a lake; and these ideas come over us all
at such times. Lakes have a gentle character, as I say, being pretty much
water and land, and points and bays.”

As this definition by no means met the feelings that were uppermost in the
mind of the young hunter, he made no immediate answer, but stood gazing at
the dark hills and the glassy water in silent enjoyment.

“Have the Governor’s or the King’s people given this lake a name?” he
suddenly asked, as if struck with a new idea. “If they’ve not begun to
blaze their trees, and set up their compasses, and line off their maps,
it’s likely they’ve not bethought them to disturb natur’ with a name.”

“They’ve not got to that, yet; and the last time I went in with skins, one
of the King’s surveyors was questioning me consarning all the region
hereabouts. He had heard that there was a lake in this quarter, and had
got some general notions about it, such as that there was water and hills;
but how much of either, he know’d no more than you know of the Mohawk
tongue. I didn’t open the trap any wider than was necessary, giving him
but poor encouragement in the way of farms and clearings. In short, I left
on his mind some such opinion of this country, as a man gets of a spring
of dirty water, with a path to it that is so muddy that one mires afore he
sets out. He told me they hadn’t got the spot down yet on their maps,
though I conclude that is a mistake, for he showed me his parchment, and
there is a lake down on it, where there is no lake in fact, and which is
about fifty miles from the place where it ought to be, if they meant it
for this. I don’t think my account will encourage him to mark down
another, by way of improvement.”

Here Hurry laughed heartily, such tricks being particularly grateful to a
set of men who dreaded the approaches of civilization as a curtailment of
their own lawless empire. The egregious errors that existed in the maps of
the day, all of which were made in Europe, were, moreover, a standing
topic of ridicule among them; for, if they had not science enough to make
any better themselves, they had sufficient local information to detect the
gross blunders contained in those that existed. Any one who will take the
trouble to compare these unanswerable evidences of the topographical skill
of our fathers a century since, with the more accurate sketches of our own
time, will at once perceive that the men of the woods had a sufficient
justification for all their criticism on this branch of the skill of the
colonial governments, which did not at all hesitate to place a river or a
lake a degree or two out of the way, even though they lay within a day’s
march of the inhabited parts of the country.

“I’m glad it has no name,” resumed Deerslayer, “or at least, no pale-face
name; for their christenings always foretell waste and destruction. No
doubt, howsoever, the red-skins have their modes of knowing it, and the
hunters and trappers, too; they are likely to call the place by something
reasonable and resembling.”

“As for the tribes, each has its tongue, and its own way of calling
things; and they treat this part of the world just as they treat all
others. Among ourselves, we’ve got to calling the place the
‘Glimmerglass,’ seeing that its whole basin is so often hinged with pines,
cast upward to its face as if it would throw back the hills that hang over
it.”

“There is an outlet, I know, for all lakes have outlets, and the rock at
which I am to meet Chingachgook stands near an outlet. Has that no
colony-name yet?”

“In that particular they’ve got the advantage of us, having one end, and
that the biggest, in their own keeping: they’ve given it a name which has
found its way up to its source; names nat’rally working up stream. No
doubt, Deerslayer, you’ve seen the Susquehannah, down in the Delaware
country?”

“That have I, and hunted along its banks a hundred times.”

“That and this are the same in fact, and, I suppose, the same in sound. I
am glad they’ve been compelled to keep the redmen’s name, for it would be
too hard to rob them of both land and name!”

Deerslayer made no answer; but he stood leaning on his rifle, gazing at
the view which so much delighted him. The reader is not to suppose,
however, that it was the picturesque alone which so strongly attracted his
attention. The spot was very lovely, of a truth, and it was then seen in
one of its most favorable moments, the surface of the lake being as smooth
as glass and as limpid as pure air, throwing back the mountains, clothed
in dark pines, along the whole of its eastern boundary, the points
thrusting forward their trees even to nearly horizontal lines, while the
bays were seen glittering through an occasional arch beneath, left by a
vault fretted with branches and leaves. It was the air of deep repose—the
solitudes, that spoke of scenes and forests untouched by the hands of man—the
reign of nature, in a word, that gave so much pure delight to one of his
habits and turn of mind. Still, he felt, though it was unconsciously, like
a poet also. If he found a pleasure in studying this large, and to him
unusual opening into the mysteries and forms of the woods, as one is
gratified in getting broader views of any subject that has long occupied
his thoughts, he was not insensible to the innate loveliness of such a
landscape neither, but felt a portion of that soothing of the spirit which
is a common attendant of a scene so thoroughly pervaded by the holy cairn
of nature.


Chapter III.

Hurry Harry thought more of the beauties of Judith Hutter than of those of
the Glimmerglass and its accompanying scenery. As soon as he had taken a
sufficiently intimate survey of floating Tom’s implements, therefore, he
summoned his companion to the canoe, that they might go down the lake in
quest of the family. Previously to embarking, however, Hurry carefully
examined the whole of the northern end of the water with an indifferent
ship’s glass, that formed a part of Hutter’s effects. In this scrutiny, no
part of the shore was overlooked; the bays and points in particular being
subjected to a closer inquiry than the rest of the wooded boundary.

“’Tis as I thought,” said Hurry, laying aside the glass, “the old fellow
is drifting about the south end this fine weather, and has left the castle
to defend itself. Well, now we know that he is not up this-a-way, ’twill
be but a small matter to paddle down and hunt him up in his hiding-place.”

“Does Master Hutter think it necessary to burrow on this lake?” inquired
Deerslayer, as he followed his companion into the canoe; “to my eye it is
such a solitude as one might open his whole soul in, and fear no one to
disarrange his thoughts or his worship.”

“You forget your friends the Mingos, and all the French savages. Is there
a spot on ‘arth, Deerslayer, to which them disquiet rogues don’t go? Where
is the lake, or even the deer lick, that the blackguards don’t find out,
and having found out, don’t, sooner or later, discolour its water with
blood.”

“I hear no good character of ’em, sartainly, friend Hurry, though I’ve
never been called on, yet, to meet them, or any other mortal, on the
warpath. I dare to say that such a lovely spot as this, would not be
likely to be overlooked by such plunderers, for, though I’ve not been in
the way of quarreling with them tribes myself, the Delawares give me such
an account of ’em that I’ve pretty much set ’em down in my own mind, as
thorough miscreants.”

“You may do that with a safe conscience, or for that matter, any other
savage you may happen to meet.”

Here Deerslayer protested, and as they went paddling down the lake, a hot
discussion was maintained concerning the respective merits of the
pale-faces and the red-skins. Hurry had all the prejudices and antipathies
of a white hunter, who generally regards the Indian as a sort of natural
competitor, and not unfrequently as a natural enemy. As a matter of
course, he was loud, clamorous, dogmatical and not very argumentative.
Deerslayer, on the other hand, manifested a very different temper, proving
by the moderation of his language, the fairness of his views, and the
simplicity of his distinctions, that he possessed every disposition to
hear reason, a strong, innate desire to do justice, and an ingenuousness
that was singularly indisposed to have recourse to sophism to maintain an
argument; or to defend a prejudice. Still he was not altogether free from
the influence of the latter feeling. This tyrant of the human mind, which
ruses on it prey through a thousand avenues, almost as soon as men begin
to think and feel, and which seldom relinquishes its iron sway until they
cease to do either, had made some impression on even the just propensities
of this individual, who probably offered in these particulars, a fair
specimen of what absence from bad example, the want of temptation to go
wrong, and native good feeling can render youth.

“You will allow, Deerslayer, that a Mingo is more than half devil,” cried
Hurry, following up the discussion with an animation that touched closely
on ferocity, “though you want to over-persuade me that the Delaware tribe
is pretty much made up of angels. Now, I gainsay that proposal, consarning
white men, even. All white men are not faultless, and therefore all
Indians can’t be faultless. And so your argument is out at the elbow in
the start. But this is what I call reason. Here’s three colors on ‘arth:
white, black, and red. White is the highest color, and therefore the best
man; black comes next, and is put to live in the neighborhood of the white
man, as tolerable, and fit to be made use of; and red comes last, which
shows that those that made ’em never expected an Indian to be accounted as
more than half human.”

“God made all three alike, Hurry.”

“Alike! Do you call a nigger like a white man, or me like an Indian?”

“You go off at half-cock, and don’t hear me out. God made us all, white,
black, and red; and, no doubt, had his own wise intentions in coloring us
differently. Still, he made us, in the main, much the same in feelin’s;
though I’ll not deny that he gave each race its gifts. A white man’s gifts
are Christianized, while a red-skin’s are more for the wilderness. Thus,
it would be a great offence for a white man to scalp the dead; whereas
it’s a signal vartue in an Indian. Then ag’in, a white man cannot amboosh
women and children in war, while a red-skin may. ‘Tis cruel work, I’ll
allow; but for them it’s lawful work; while for us, it would be grievous
work.”

“That depends on your inimy. As for scalping, or even skinning a savage, I
look upon them pretty much the same as cutting off the ears of wolves for
the bounty, or stripping a bear of its hide. And then you’re out
significantly, as to taking the poll of a red-skin in hand, seeing that
the very colony has offered a bounty for the job; all the same as it pays
for wolves’ ears and crows’ heads.”

“Ay, and a bad business it is, Hurry. Even the Indians themselves cry
shame on it, seeing it’s ag’in a white man’s gifts. I do not pretend that
all that white men do, is properly Christianized, and according to the
lights given them, for then they would be what they ought to be; which we
know they are not; but I will maintain that tradition, and use, and color,
and laws, make such a difference in races as to amount to gifts. I do not
deny that there are tribes among the Indians that are nat’rally pervarse
and wicked, as there are nations among the whites. Now, I account the
Mingos as belonging to the first, and the Frenchers, in the Canadas, to
the last. In a state of lawful warfare, such as we have lately got into,
it is a duty to keep down all compassionate feelin’s, so far as life goes,
ag’in either; but when it comes to scalps, it’s a very different matter.”

“Just hearken to reason, if you please, Deerslayer, and tell me if the
colony can make an onlawful law? Isn’t an onlawful law more ag’in natur’
than scalpin’ a savage? A law can no more be onlawful, than truth can be a
lie.”

“That sounds reasonable; but it has a most onreasonable bearing, Hurry.
Laws don’t all come from the same quarter. God has given us his’n, and
some come from the colony, and others come from the King and Parliament.
When the colony’s laws, or even the King’s laws, run ag’in the laws of
God, they get to be onlawful, and ought not to be obeyed. I hold to a
white man’s respecting white laws, so long as they do not cross the track
of a law comin’ from a higher authority; and for a red man to obey his own
red-skin usages, under the same privilege. But, ‘t is useless talking, as
each man will think fir himself, and have his say agreeable to his
thoughts. Let us keep a good lookout for your friend Floating Tom, lest we
pass him, as he lies hidden under this bushy shore.”

Deerslayer had not named the borders of the lake amiss. Along their whole
length, the smaller trees overhung the water, with their branches often
dipping in the transparent element. The banks were steep, even from the
narrow strand; and, as vegetation invariably struggles towards the light,
the effect was precisely that at which the lover of the picturesque would
have aimed, had the ordering of this glorious setting of forest been
submitted to his control. The points and bays, too, were sufficiently
numerous to render the outline broken and diversified. As the canoe kept
close along the western side of the lake, with a view, as Hurry had
explained to his companion, of reconnoitering for enemies, before he
trusted himself too openly in sight, the expectations of the two
adventurers were kept constantly on the stretch, as neither could foretell
what the next turning of a point might reveal. Their progress was swift,
the gigantic strength of Hurry enabling him to play with the light bark as
if it had been a feather, while the skill of his companion almost
equalized their usefulness, notwithstanding the disparity in natural
means.

Each time the canoe passed a point, Hurry turned a look behind him,
expecting to see the “ark” anchored, or beached in the bay. He was fated
to be disappointed, however; and they had got within a mile of the
southern end of the lake, or a distance of quite two leagues from the
“castle,” which was now hidden from view by half a dozen intervening
projections of the land, when he suddenly ceased paddling, as if uncertain
in what direction next to steer.

“It is possible that the old chap has dropped into the river,” said Hurry,
after looking carefully along the whole of the eastern shore, which was
about a mile distant, and open to his scrutiny for more than half its
length; “for he has taken to trapping considerable, of late, and, barring
flood-wood, he might drop down it a mile or so; though he would have a
most scratching time in getting back again!”

“Where is this outlet?” asked Deerslayer; “I see no opening in the banks
or the trees, that looks as if it would let a river like the Susquehannah
run through it.”

“Ay, Deerslayer, rivers are like human mortals; having small beginnings,
and ending with broad shoulders and wide mouths. You don’t see the outlet,
because it passes atween high, steep banks; and the pines, and hemlocks
and bass-woods hang over it, as a roof hangs over a house. If old Tom is
not in the ‘Rat’s Cove,’ he must have burrowed in the river; we’ll look
for him first in the cove, and then we’ll cross to the outlet.”

As they proceeded, Hurry explained that there was a shallow bay, formed by
a long, low point, that had got the name of the “Rat’s Cove,” from the
circumstance of its being a favorite haunt of the muskrat; and which
offered so complete a cover for the “ark,” that its owner was fond of
lying in it, whenever he found it convenient.

“As a man never knows who may be his visitors, in this part of the
country,” continued Hurry, “it’s a great advantage to get a good look at
’em afore they come too near. Now it’s war, such caution is more than
commonly useful, since a Canada man or a Mingo might get into his hut
afore he invited ’em. But Hutter is a first-rate look-outer, and can
pretty much scent danger, as a hound scents the deer.”

“I should think the castle so open, that it would be sartain to draw
inimies, if any happened to find the lake; a thing onlikely enough, I will
allow, as it’s off the trail of the forts and settlements.”

“Why, Deerslayer, I’ve got to believe that a man meets with inimies easier
than he meets with fri’nds. It’s skearful to think for how many causes one
gets to be your inimy, and for how few your fri’nd. Some take up the
hatchet because you don’t think just as they think; other some because you
run ahead of ’em in the same idees; and I once know’d a vagabond that
quarrelled with a fri’nd because he didn’t think him handsome. Now, you’re
no monument in the way of beauty, yourself, Deerslayer, and yet you
wouldn’t be so onreasonable as to become my inimy for just saying so.”

“I’m as the Lord made me; and I wish to be accounted no better, nor any
worse. Good looks I may not have; that is to say, to a degree that the
light-minded and vain crave; but I hope I’m not altogether without some
ricommend in the way of good conduct. There’s few nobler looking men to be
seen than yourself, Hurry; and I know that I am not to expect any to turn
their eyes on me, when such a one as you can be gazed on; but I do not
know that a hunter is less expart with the rifle, or less to be relied on
for food, because he doesn’t wish to stop at every shining spring he may
meet, to study his own countenance in the water.”

Here Hurry burst into a fit of loud laughter; for while he was too
reckless to care much about his own manifest physical superiority, he was
well aware of it, and, like most men who derive an advantage from the
accidents of birth or nature, he was apt to think complacently on the
subject, whenever it happened to cross his mind.

“No, no, Deerslayer, you’re no beauty, as you will own yourself, if you’ll
look over the side of the canoe,” he cried; “Jude will say that to your
face, if you start her, for a tarter tongue isn’t to be found in any gal’s
head, in or out of the settlements, if you provoke her to use it. My
advice to you is, never to aggravate Judith; though you may tell anything
to Hetty, and she’ll take it as meek as a lamb. No, Jude will be just as
like as not to tell you her opinion consarning your looks.”

“And if she does, Hurry, she will tell me no more than you have said
already.”

“You’re not thick’ning up about a small remark, I hope, Deerslayer, when
no harm is meant. You are not a beauty, as you must know, and why
shouldn’t fri’nds tell each other these little trifles? If you was
handsome, or ever like to be, I’d be one of the first to tell you of it;
and that ought to content you. Now, if Jude was to tell me that I’m as
ugly as a sinner, I’d take it as a sort of obligation, and try not to
believe her.”

“It’s easy for them that natur’ has favored, to jest about such matters,
Hurry, though it is sometimes hard for others. I’ll not deny but I’ve had
my cravings towards good looks; yes, I have; but then I’ve always been
able to get them down by considering how many I’ve known with fair
outsides, who have had nothing to boast of inwardly. I’ll not deny, Hurry,
that I often wish I’d been created more comely to the eye, and more like
such a one as yourself in them particulars; but then I get the feelin’
under by remembering how much better off I am, in a great many respects,
than some fellow-mortals. I might have been born lame, and onfit even for
a squirrel-hunt, or blind, which would have made me a burden on myself as
well as on my fri’nds; or without hearing, which would have totally
onqualified me for ever campaigning or scouting; which I look forward to
as part of a man’s duty in troublesome times. Yes, yes; it’s not pleasant,
I will allow, to see them that’s more comely, and more sought a’ter, and
honored than yourself; but it may all be borne, if a man looks the evil in
the face, and don’t mistake his gifts and his obligations.”

Hurry, in the main, was a good-hearted as well as good-natured fellow; and
the self-abasement of his companion completely got the better of the
passing feeling of personal vanity. He regretted the allusion he had made
to the other’s appearance, and endeavored to express as much, though it
was done in the uncouth manner that belonged to the habits and opinions of
the frontier.

“I meant no harm, Deerslayer,” he answered, in a deprecating manner, “and
hope you’ll forget what I’ve said. If you’re not downright handsome,
you’ve a sartain look that says, plainer than any words, that all’s right
within. Then you set no value by looks, and will the sooner forgive any
little slight to your appearance. I will not say that Jude will greatly
admire you, for that might raise hopes that would only breed
disapp’intment; but there’s Hetty, now, would be just as likely to find
satisfaction in looking at you, as in looking at any other man. Then
you’re altogether too grave and considerate-like, to care much about
Judith; for, though the gal is oncommon, she is so general in her
admiration, that a man need not be exalted because she happens to smile. I
sometimes think the hussy loves herself better than she does anything else
breathin’.”

“If she did, Hurry, she’d do no more, I’m afeard, than most queens on
their thrones, and ladies in the towns,” answered Deerslayer, smiling, and
turning back towards his companion with every trace of feeling banished
from his honest-looking and frank countenance. “I never yet know’d even a
Delaware of whom you might not say that much. But here is the end of the
long p’int you mentioned, and the ‘Rat’s Cove’ can’t be far off.”

This point, instead of thrusting itself forward, like all the others, ran
in a line with the main shore of the lake, which here swept within it, in
a deep and retired bay, circling round south again, at the distance of a
quarter of a mile, and crossed the valley, forming the southern
termination of the water. In this bay Hurry felt almost certain of finding
the ark, since, anchored behind the trees that covered the narrow strip of
the point, it might have lain concealed from prying eyes an entire summer.
So complete, indeed, was the cover, in this spot, that a boat hauled close
to the beach, within the point, and near the bottom of the bay, could by
any possibility be seen from only one direction; and that was from a
densely wooded shore within the sweep of the water, where strangers would
be little apt to go.

“We shall soon see the ark,” said Hurry, as the canoe glided round the
extremity of the point, where the water was so deep as actually to appear
black; “he loves to burrow up among the rushes, and we shall be in his
nest in five minutes, although the old fellow may be off among the traps
himself.”

March proved a false prophet. The canoe completely doubled the point, so
as to enable the two travellers to command a view of the whole cove or
bay, for it was more properly the last, and no object, but those that
nature had placed there, became visible. The placid water swept round in a
graceful curve, the rushes bent gently towards its surface, and the trees
overhung it as usual; but all lay in the soothing and sublime solitude of
a wilderness. The scene was such as a poet or an artist would have
delighted in, but it had no charm for Hurry Harry, who was burning with
impatience to get a sight of his light-minded beauty.

The motion of the canoe had been attended with little or no noise, the
frontiermen habitually getting accustomed to caution in most of their
movements, and it now lay on the glassy water appearing to float in air,
partaking of the breathing stillness that seemed to pervade the entire
scene. At this instant a dry stick was heard cracking on the narrow strip
of land that concealed the bay from the open lake. Both the adventurers
started, and each extended a hand towards his rifle, the weapon never
being out of reach of the arm.

“’Twas too heavy for any light creatur’,” whispered Hurry, “and it sounded
like the tread of a man!”

“Not so—not so,” returned Deerslayer; “’t was, as you say, too heavy
for one, but it was too light for the other. Put your paddle in the water,
and send the canoe in, to that log; I’ll land and cut off the creatur’s
retreat up the p’int, be it a Mingo, or be it a muskrat.”

As Hurry complied, Deerslayer was soon on the shore, advancing into the
thicket with a moccasined foot, and a caution that prevented the least
noise. In a minute he was in the centre of the narrow strip of land, and
moving slowly down towards its end, the bushes rendering extreme
watchfulness necessary. Just as he reached the centre of the thicket the
dried twigs cracked again, and the noise was repeated at short intervals,
as if some creature having life walked slowly towards the point. Hurry
heard these sounds also, and pushing the canoe off into the bay, he seized
his rifle to watch the result. A breathless minute succeeded, after which
a noble buck walked out of the thicket, proceeded with a stately step to
the sandy extremity of the point, and began to slake his thirst from the
water of the lake. Hurry hesitated an instant; then raising his rifle
hastily to his shoulder, he took sight and fired. The effect of this
sudden interruption of the solemn stillness of such a scene was not its
least striking peculiarity. The report of the weapon had the usual sharp,
short sound of the rifle: but when a few moments of silence had succeeded
the sudden crack, during which the noise was floating in air across the
water, it reached the rocks of the opposite mountain, where the vibrations
accumulated, and were rolled from cavity to cavity for miles along the
hills, seeming to awaken the sleeping thunders of the woods. The buck
merely shook his head at the report of the rifle and the whistling of the
bullet, for never before had he come in contact with man; but the echoes
of the hills awakened his distrust, and leaping forward, with his four
legs drawn under his body, he fell at once into deep water, and began to
swim towards the foot of the lake. Hurry shouted and dashed forward in
chase, and for one or two minutes the water foamed around the pursuer and
the pursued. The former was dashing past the point, when Deerslayer
appeared on the sand and signed to him to return.

“’Twas inconsiderate to pull a trigger, afore we had reconn’itred the
shore, and made sartain that no inimies harbored near it,” said the
latter, as his companion slowly and reluctantly complied. “This much I
have l’arned from the Delawares, in the way of schooling and traditions,
even though I’ve never yet been on a war-path. And, moreover, venison can
hardly be called in season now, and we do not want for food. They call me
Deerslayer, I’ll own, and perhaps I desarve the name, in the way of
understanding the creatur’s habits, as well as for some sartainty in the
aim, but they can’t accuse me of killing an animal when there is no
occasion for the meat, or the skin. I may be a slayer, it’s true, but I’m
no slaughterer.”

“’Twas an awful mistake to miss that buck!” exclaimed Hurry, doffing his
cap and running his fingers through his handsome but matted curls, as if
he would loosen his tangled ideas by the process. “I’ve not done so
onhandy a thing since I was fifteen.”

“Never lament it, as the creatur’s death could have done neither of us any
good, and might have done us harm. Them echoes are more awful in my ears,
than your mistake, Hurry, for they sound like the voice of natur’ calling
out ag’in a wasteful and onthinking action.”

“You’ll hear plenty of such calls, if you tarry long in this quarter of
the world, lad,” returned the other laughing. “The echoes repeat pretty
much all that is said or done on the Glimmerglass, in this calm summer
weather. If a paddle falls you hear of it sometimes, ag’in and ag’in, as
if the hills were mocking your clumsiness, and a laugh, or a whistle,
comes out of them pines, when they’re in the humour to speak, in a way to
make you believe they can r’ally convarse.”

“So much the more reason for being prudent and silent. I do not think the
inimy can have found their way into these hills yet, for I don’t know what
they are to gain by it, but all the Delawares tell me that, as courage is
a warrior’s first vartue, so is prudence his second. One such call from
the mountains, is enough to let a whole tribe into the secret of our
arrival.”

“If it does no other good, it will warn old Tom to put the pot over, and
let him know visiters are at hand. Come, lad; get into the canoe, and we
will hunt the ark up, while there is yet day.”

Deerslayer complied, and the canoe left the spot. Its head was turned
diagonally across the lake, pointing towards the south-eastern curvature
of the sheet. In that direction, the distance to the shore, or to the
termination of the lake, on the course the two were now steering, was not
quite a mile, and, their progress being always swift, it was fast
lessening under the skilful, but easy sweeps of the paddles. When about
half way across, a slight noise drew the eyes of the men towards the
nearest land, and they saw that the buck was just emerging from the lake
and wading towards the beach. In a minute, the noble animal shook the
water from his flanks, gazed up ward at the covering of trees, and,
bounding against the bank, plunged into the forest.

“That creatur’ goes off with gratitude in his heart,” said Deerslayer,
“for natur’ tells him he has escaped a great danger. You ought to have
some of the same feelin’s, Hurry, to think your eye wasn’t true, or that
your hand was onsteady, when no good could come of a shot that was
intended onmeaningly rather than in reason.”

“I deny the eye and the hand,” cried March with some heat. “You’ve got a
little character, down among the Delawares, there, for quickness and
sartainty, at a deer, but I should like to see you behind one of them
pines, and a full painted Mingo behind another, each with a cock’d rifle
and a striving for the chance! Them’s the situations, Nathaniel, to try
the sight and the hand, for they begin with trying the narves. I never
look upon killing a creatur’ as an explite; but killing a savage is. The
time will come to try your hand, now we’ve got to blows ag’in, and we
shall soon know what a ven’son reputation can do in the field. I deny that
either hand or eye was onsteady; it was all a miscalculation of the buck,
which stood still when he ought to have kept in motion, and so I shot
ahead of him.”

“Have it your own way, Hurry; all I contend for is, that it’s lucky. I
dare say I shall not pull upon a human mortal as steadily or with as light
a heart, as I pull upon a deer.”

“Who’s talking of mortals, or of human beings at all, Deerslayer? I put
the matter to you on the supposition of an Injin. I dare say any man would
have his feelin’s when it got to be life or death, ag’in another human
mortal; but there would be no such scruples in regard to an Injin; nothing
but the chance of his hitting you, or the chance of your hitting him.”

“I look upon the redmen to be quite as human as we are ourselves, Hurry.
They have their gifts, and their religion, it’s true; but that makes no
difference in the end, when each will be judged according to his deeds,
and not according to his skin.”

“That’s downright missionary, and will find little favor up in this part
of the country, where the Moravians don’t congregate. Now, skin makes the
man. This is reason; else how are people to judge of each other. The skin
is put on, over all, in order when a creatur’, or a mortal, is fairly
seen, you may know at once what to make of him. You know a bear from a
hog, by his skin, and a gray squirrel from a black.”

“True, Hurry,” said the other looking back and smiling, “nevertheless,
they are both squirrels.”

“Who denies it? But you’ll not say that a red man and a white man are both
Injins?”

“But I do say they are both men. Men of different races and colors, and
having different gifts and traditions, but, in the main, with the same
natur’. Both have souls; and both will be held accountable for their deeds
in this life.”

Hurry was one of those theorists who believed in the inferiority of all
the human race who were not white. His notions on the subject were not
very clear, nor were his definitions at all well settled; but his opinions
were none the less dogmatical or fierce. His conscience accused him of
sundry lawless acts against the Indians, and he had found it an
exceedingly easy mode of quieting it, by putting the whole family of
redmen, incontinently, without the category of human rights. Nothing
angered him sooner than to deny his proposition, more especially if the
denial were accompanied by a show of plausible argument; and he did not
listen to his companion’s remarks with much composure of either manner or
feeling.

“You’re a boy, Deerslayer, misled and misconsaited by Delaware arts, and
missionary ignorance,” he exclaimed, with his usual indifference to the
forms of speech, when excited. “You may account yourself as a red-skin’s
brother, but I hold’em all to be animals; with nothing human about ’em but
cunning. That they have, I’ll allow; but so has a fox, or even a bear. I’m
older than you, and have lived longer in the woods—or, for that
matter, have lived always there, and am not to be told what an Injin is or
what he is not. If you wish to be considered a savage, you’ve only to say
so, and I’ll name you as such to Judith and the old man, and then we’ll
see how you’ll like your welcome.”

Here Hurry’s imagination did his temper some service, since, by conjuring
up the reception his semi-aquatic acquaintance would be likely to bestow
on one thus introduced, he burst into a hearty fit of laughter. Deerslayer
too well knew the uselessness of attempting to convince such a being of
anything against his prejudices, to feel a desire to undertake the task;
and he was not sorry that the approach of the canoe to the southeastern
curve of the lake gave a new direction to his ideas. They were now,
indeed, quite near the place that March had pointed out for the position
of the outlet, and both began to look for it with a curiosity that was
increased by the expectation of the ark.

It may strike the reader as a little singular, that the place where a
stream of any size passed through banks that had an elevation of some
twenty feet, should be a matter of doubt with men who could not now have
been more than two hundred yards distant from the precise spot. It will be
recollected, however, that the trees and bushes here, as elsewhere, fairly
overhung the water, making such a fringe to the lake, as to conceal any
little variations from its general outline.

“I’ve not been down at this end of the lake these two summers,” said
Hurry, standing up in the canoe, the better to look about him. “Ay,
there’s the rock, showing its chin above the water, and I know that the
river begins in its neighborhood.”

The men now plied the paddles again, and they were presently within a few
yards of the rock, floating towards it, though their efforts were
suspended. This rock was not large, being merely some five or six feet
high, only half of which elevation rose above the lake. The incessant
washing of the water for centuries had so rounded its summit, that it
resembled a large beehive in shape, its form being more than usually
regular and even. Hurry remarked, as they floated slowly past, that this
rock was well known to all the Indians in that part of the country, and
that they were in the practice of using it as a mark to designate the
place of meeting, when separated by their hunts and marches.

“And here is the river, Deerslayer,” he continued, “though so shut in by
trees and bushes as to look more like an and-bush, than the outlet of such
a sheet as the Glimmerglass.”

Hurry had not badly described the place, which did truly seem to be a
stream lying in ambush. The high banks might have been a hundred feet
asunder; but, on the western side, a small bit of low land extended so far
forward as to diminish the breadth of the stream to half that width.

As the bushes hung in the water beneath, and pines that had the stature of
church-steeples rose in tall columns above, all inclining towards the
light, until their branches intermingled, the eye, at a little distance,
could not easily detect any opening in the shore, to mark the egress of
the water. In the forest above, no traces of this outlet were to be seen
from the lake, the whole presenting the same connected and seemingly
interminable carpet of leaves. As the canoe slowly advanced, sucked in by
the current, it entered beneath an arch of trees, through which the light
from the heavens struggled by casual openings, faintly relieving the gloom
beneath.

“This is a nat’ral and-bush,” half whispered Hurry, as if he felt that the
place was devoted to secrecy and watchfulness; “depend on it, old Tom has
burrowed with the ark somewhere in this quarter. We will drop down with
the current a short distance, and ferret him out.”

“This seems no place for a vessel of any size,” returned the other; “it
appears to me that we shall have hardly room enough for the canoe.”

Hurry laughed at the suggestion, and, as it soon appeared, with reason;
for the fringe of bushes immediately on the shore of the lake was no
sooner passed, than the adventurers found themselves in a narrow stream,
of a sufficient depth of limpid water, with a strong current, and a canopy
of leaves upheld by arches composed of the limbs of hoary trees. Bushes
lined the shores, as usual, but they left sufficient space between them to
admit the passage of anything that did not exceed twenty feet in width,
and to allow of a perspective ahead of eight or ten times that distance.

Neither of our two adventurers used his paddle, except to keep the light
bark in the centre of the current, but both watched each turning of the
stream, of which there were two or three within the first hundred yards,
with jealous vigilance. Turn after turn, however, was passed, and the
canoe had dropped down with the current some little distance, when Hurry
caught a bush, and arrested its movement so suddenly and silently as to
denote some unusual motive for the act. Deerslayer laid his hand on the
stock of his rifle as soon as he noted this proceeding, but it was quite
as much with a hunter’s habit as from any feeling of alarm.

“There the old fellow is!” whispered Hurry, pointing with a finger, and
laughing heartily, though he carefully avoided making a noise, “ratting it
away, just as I supposed; up to his knees in the mud and water, looking to
the traps and the bait. But for the life of me I can see nothing of the
ark; though I’ll bet every skin I take this season, Jude isn’t trusting
her pretty little feet in the neighborhood of that black mud. The gal’s
more likely to be braiding her hair by the side of some spring, where she
can see her own good looks, and collect scornful feelings ag’in us men.”

“You over-judge young women—yes, you do, Hurry—who as often
bethink them of their failings as they do of their perfections. I dare to
say this Judith, now, is no such admirer of herself, and no such scorner
of our sex as you seem to think; and that she is quite as likely to be
sarving her father in the house, wherever that may be, as he is to be
sarving her among the traps.”

“It’s a pleasure to hear truth from a man’s tongue, if it be only once in
a girl’s life,” cried a pleasant, rich, and yet soft female voice, so near
the canoe as to make both the listeners start. “As for you, Master Hurry,
fair words are so apt to choke you, that I no longer expect to hear them
from your mouth; the last you uttered sticking in your throat, and coming
near to death. But I’m glad to see you keep better society than formerly,
and that they who know how to esteem and treat women are not ashamed to
journey in your company.”

As this was said, a singularly handsome and youthful female face was
thrust through an opening in the leaves, within reach of Deerslayer’s
paddle. Its owner smiled graciously on the young man; and the frown that
she cast on Hurry, though simulated and pettish, had the effect to render
her beauty more striking, by exhibiting the play of an expressive but
capricious countenance; one that seemed to change from the soft to the
severe, the mirthful to the reproving, with facility and indifference.

A second look explained the nature of the surprise. Unwittingly, the men
had dropped alongside of the ark, which had been purposely concealed in
bushes cut and arranged for the purpose; and Judith Hutter had merely
pushed aside the leaves that lay before a window, in order to show her
face, and speak to them.


Chapter IV.

The ark, as the floating habitation of the Hutters was generally called,
was a very simple contrivance. A large flat, or scow, composed the buoyant
part of the vessel; and in its centre, occupying the whole of its breadth,
and about two thirds of its length, stood a low fabric, resembling the
castle in construction, though made of materials so light as barely to be
bullet-proof. As the sides of the scow were a little higher than usual,
and the interior of the cabin had no more elevation than was necessary for
comfort, this unusual addition had neither a very clumsy nor a very
obtrusive appearance. It was, in short, little more than a modern
canal-boat, though more rudely constructed, of greater breadth than
common, and bearing about it the signs of the wilderness, in its
bark-covered posts and roof. The scow, however, had been put together with
some skill, being comparatively light, for its strength, and sufficiently
manageable. The cabin was divided into two apartments, one of which served
for a parlor, and the sleeping-room of the father, and the other was
appropriated to the uses of the daughters. A very simple arrangement
sufficed for the kitchen, which was in one end of the scow, and removed
from the cabin, standing in the open air; the ark being altogether a
summer habitation.

The “and-bush,” as Hurry in his ignorance of English termed it, is quite
as easily explained. In many parts of the lake and river, where the banks
were steep and high, the smaller trees and larger bushes, as has been
already mentioned, fairly overhung the stream, their branches not
unfrequently dipping into the water. In some instances they grew out in
nearly horizontal lines, for thirty or forty feet. The water being
uniformly deepest near the shores, where the banks were highest and the
nearest to a perpendicular, Hutter had found no difficulty in letting the
ark drop under one of these covers, where it had been anchored with a view
to conceal its position; security requiring some such precautions, in his
view of the case. Once beneath the trees and bushes, a few stones fastened
to the ends of the branches had caused them to bend sufficiently to dip
into the river; and a few severed bushes, properly disposed, did the rest.
The reader has seen that this cover was so complete as to deceive two men
accustomed to the woods, and who were actually in search of those it
concealed; a circumstance that will be easily understood by those who are
familiar with the matted and wild luxuriance of a virgin American forest,
more especially in a rich soil. The discovery of the ark produced very
different effects on our two adventurers.

As soon as the canoe could be got round to the proper opening, Hurry
leaped on board, and in a minute was closely engaged in a gay, and a sort
of recriminating discourse with Judith, apparently forgetful of the
existence of all the rest of the world. Not so with Deerslayer. He entered
the ark with a slow, cautious step, examining every arrangement of the
cover with curious and scrutinizing eyes. It is true, he cast one admiring
glance at Judith, which was extorted by her brilliant and singular beauty;
but even this could detain him but a single instant from the indulgence of
his interest in Hutter’s contrivances. Step by step did he look into the
construction of the singular abode, investigate its fastenings and
strength, ascertain its means of defence, and make every inquiry that
would be likely to occur to one whose thoughts dwelt principally on such
expedients. Nor was the cover neglected. Of this he examined the whole
minutely, his commendation escaping him more than once in audible
comments. Frontier usages admitting of this familiarity, he passed through
the rooms, as he had previously done at the ‘Castle’, and opening a door
issued into the end of the scow opposite to that where he had left Hurry
and Judith. Here he found the other sister, employed at some coarse
needle-work, seated beneath the leafy canopy of the cover.

As Deerslayer’s examination was by this time ended, he dropped the butt of
his rifle, and, leaning on the barrel with both hands, he turned towards
the girl with an interest the singular beauty of her sister had not
awakened. He had gathered from Hurry’s remarks that Hetty was considered
to have less intellect than ordinarily falls to the share of human beings,
and his education among Indians had taught him to treat those who were
thus afflicted by Providence with more than common tenderness. Nor was
there any thing in Hetty Hutter’s appearance, as so often happens, to
weaken the interest her situation excited. An idiot she could not properly
be termed, her mind being just enough enfeebled to lose most of those
traits that are connected with the more artful qualities, and to retain
its ingenuousness and love of truth. It had often been remarked of this
girl, by the few who had seen her, and who possessed sufficient knowledge
to discriminate, that her perception of the right seemed almost intuitive,
while her aversion to the wrong formed so distinctive a feature of her
mind, as to surround her with an atmosphere of pure morality;
peculiarities that are not infrequent with persons who are termed
feeble-minded; as if God had forbidden the evil spirits to invade a
precinct so defenceless, with the benign purpose of extending a direct
protection to those who had been left without the usual aids of humanity.
Her person, too, was agreeable, having a strong resemblance to that of her
sister’s, of which it was a subdued and humble copy. If it had none of the
brilliancy of Judith’s, the calm, quiet, almost holy expression of her
meek countenance seldom failed to win on the observer, and few noted it
long that did not begin to feel a deep and lasting interest in the girl.
She had no colour, in common, nor was her simple mind apt to present
images that caused her cheek to brighten, though she retained a modesty so
innate that it almost raised her to the unsuspecting purity of a being
superior to human infirmities. Guileless, innocent, and without distrust,
equally by nature and from her mode of life, providence had, nevertheless
shielded her from harm, by a halo of moral light, as it is said ‘to temper
the wind to the shorn lamb.’

“You are Hetty Hutter,” said Deerslayer, in the way one puts a question
unconsciously to himself, assuming a kindness of tone and manner that were
singularly adapted to win the confidence of her he addressed. “Hurry Harry
has told me of you, and I know you must be the child?”

“Yes, I’m Hetty Hutter” returned the girl in a low, sweet voice, which
nature, aided by some education, had preserved from vulgarity of tone and
utterance—“I’m Hetty; Judith Hutter’s sister; and Thomas Hutter’s
youngest daughter.”

“I know your history, then, for Hurry Harry talks considerable, and he is
free of speech when he can find other people’s consarns to dwell on. You
pass most of your life on the lake, Hetty.”

“Certainly. Mother is dead; father is gone a-trapping, and Judith and I
stay at home. What’s your name?”

“That’s a question more easily asked than it is answered, young woman,
seeing that I’m so young, and yet have borne more names than some of the
greatest chiefs in all America.”

“But you’ve got a name—you don’t throw away one name, before you
come honestly by another?”

“I hope not, gal—I hope not. My names have come nat’rally, and I
suppose the one I bear now will be of no great lasting, since the
Delawares seldom settle on a man’s ra’al title, until such time as he has
an opportunity of showing his true natur’, in the council, or on the
warpath; which has never behappened me; seeing firstly, because I’m not
born a red-skin and have no right to sit in their councillings, and am
much too humble to be called on for opinions from the great of my own
colour; and, secondly, because this is the first war that has befallen in
my time, and no inimy has yet inroaded far enough into the colony, to be
reached by an arm even longer than mine.”

“Tell me your names,” added Hetty, looking up at him artlessly, “and,
maybe, I’ll tell you your character.”

“There is some truth in that, I’ll not deny, though it often fails. Men
are deceived in other men’s characters, and frequently give ’em names they
by no means desarve. You can see the truth of this in the Mingo names,
which, in their own tongue, signify the same things as the Delaware names,—at
least, so they tell me, for I know little of that tribe, unless it be by
report,—and no one can say they are as honest or as upright a
nation. I put no great dependence, therefore, on names.”

“Tell me all your names,” repeated the girl, earnestly, for her mind was
too simple to separate things from professions, and she did attach
importance to a name; “I want to know what to think of you.”

“Well, sartain; I’ve no objection, and you shall hear them all. In the
first place, then, I’m Christian, and white-born, like yourself, and my
parents had a name that came down from father to son, as is a part of
their gifts. My father was called Bumppo; and I was named after him, of
course, the given name being Nathaniel, or Natty, as most people saw fit
to tarm it.”

“Yes, yes—Natty—and Hetty” interrupted the girl quickly, and
looking up from her work again, with a smile: “you are Natty, and I’m
Hetty—though you are Bumppo, and I’m Hutter. Bumppo isn’t as pretty
as Hutter, is it?”

“Why, that’s as people fancy. Bumppo has no lofty sound, I admit; and yet
men have bumped through the world with it. I did not go by this name,
howsoever, very long; for the Delawares soon found out, or thought they
found out, that I was not given to lying, and they called me, firstly,
‘Straight-tongue.’”

“That’s a good name,” interrupted Hetty, earnestly, and in a positive
manner; “don’t tell me there’s no virtue in names!”

“I do not say that, for perhaps I desarved to be so called, lies being no
favorites with me, as they are with some. After a while they found out I
was quick of foot, and then they called me ‘The Pigeon’; which, you know,
has a swift wing, and flies in a straight line.”

“That was a pretty name!” exclaimed Hetty; “pigeons are pretty birds!”

“Most things that God created are pretty in their way, my good gal, though
they get to be deformed by mankind, so as to change their natur’s, as well
as their appearance. From carrying messages, and striking blind trails, I
got at last to following the hunters, when it was thought I was quicker
and surer at finding the game than most lads, and then they called me the
‘Lap-ear’; as, they said, I partook of the sagacity of the hound.”

“That’s not so pretty,” answered Hetty; “I hope you didn’t keep that name
long.”

“Not after I was rich enough to buy a rifle,” returned the other,
betraying a little pride through his usually quiet and subdued manner;
“then it was seen I could keep a wigwam in ven’son; and in time I got the
name of ‘Deerslayer,’ which is that I now bear; homely as some will think
it, who set more value on the scalp of a fellow-mortal than on the horns
of a buck.”

“Well, Deerslayer, I’m not one of them,” answered Hetty, simply; “Judith
likes soldiers, and flary coats, and fine feathers; but they’re all naught
to me. She says the officers are great, and gay, and of soft speech; but
they make me shudder, for their business is to kill their
fellow-creatures. I like your calling better; and your last name is a very
good one—better than Natty Bumppo.”

“This is nat’ral in one of your turn of mind, Hetty, and much as I should
have expected. They tell me your sister is handsome—oncommon, for a
mortal; and beauty is apt to seek admiration.”

“Did you never see Judith?” demanded the girl, with quick earnestness; “if
you never have, go at once and look at her. Even Hurry Harry isn’t more
pleasant to look at though she is a woman, and he is a man.”

Deerslayer regarded the girl for a moment with concern. Her pale-face had
flushed a little, and her eye, usually so mild and serene, brightened as
she spoke, in the way to betray the inward impulses.

“Ay, Hurry Harry,” he muttered to himself, as he walked through the cabin
towards the other end of the boat; “this comes of good looks, if a light
tongue has had no consarn in it. It’s easy to see which way that poor
creatur’s feelin’s are leanin’, whatever may be the case with your
Jude’s.”

But an interruption was put to the gallantry of Hurry, the coquetry of his
intros, the thoughts of Deerslayer, and the gentle feelings of Hetty, by
the sudden appearance of the canoe of the ark’s owner, in the narrow
opening among the bushes that served as a sort of moat to his position. It
would seem that Hutter, or Floating Tom, as he was familiarly called by
all the hunters who knew his habits, recognized the canoe of Hurry, for he
expressed no surprise at finding him in the scow. On the contrary, his
reception was such as to denote not only gratification, but a pleasure,
mingled with a little disappointment at his not having made his appearance
some days sooner.

“I looked for you last week,” he said, in a half-grumbling, half-welcoming
manner; “and was disappointed uncommonly that you didn’t arrive. There
came a runner through, to warn all the trappers and hunters that the
colony and the Canadas were again in trouble; and I felt lonesome, up in
these mountains, with three scalps to see to, and only one pair of hands
to protect them.”

“That’s reasonable,” returned March; “and ‘t was feeling like a parent. No
doubt, if I had two such darters as Judith and Hetty, my exper’ence would
tell the same story, though in gin’ral I am just as well satisfied with
having the nearest neighbor fifty miles off, as when he is within call.”

“Notwithstanding, you didn’t choose to come into the wilderness alone, now
you knew that the Canada savages are likely to be stirring,” returned
Hutter, giving a sort of distrustful, and at the same time inquiring
glance at Deerslayer.

“Why should I? They say a bad companion, on a journey, helps to shorten
the path; and this young man I account to be a reasonably good one. This
is Deerslayer, old Tom, a noted hunter among the Delawares, and
Christian-born, and Christian-edicated, too, like you and me. The lad is
not parfect, perhaps, but there’s worse men in the country that he came
from, and it’s likely he’ll find some that’s no better, in this part of
the world. Should we have occasion to defend our traps, and the territory,
he’ll be useful in feeding us all; for he’s a reg’lar dealer in ven’son.”

“Young man, you are welcome,” growled Tom, thrusting a hard, bony hand
towards the youth, as a pledge of his sincerity; “in such times, a white
face is a friend’s, and I count on you as a support. Children sometimes
make a stout heart feeble, and these two daughters of mine give me more
concern than all my traps, and skins, and rights in the country.”

“That’s nat’ral!” cried Hurry. “Yes, Deerslayer, you and I don’t know it
yet by experience; but, on the whole, I consider that as nat’ral. If we
had darters, it’s more than probable we should have some such feelin’s;
and I honor the man that owns ’em. As for Judith, old man, I enlist, at
once, as her soldier, and here is Deerslayer to help you to take care of
Hetty.”

“Many thanks to you, Master March,” returned the beauty, in a full, rich
voice, and with an accuracy of intonation and utterance that she shared in
common with her sister, and which showed that she had been better taught
than her father’s life and appearance would give reason to expect. “Many
thanks to you; but Judith Hutter has the spirit and the experience that
will make her depend more on herself than on good-looking rovers like you.
Should there be need to face the savages, do you land with my father,
instead of burrowing in the huts, under the show of defending us females
and—”

“Girl—girl,” interrupted the father, “quiet that glib tongue of
thine, and hear the truth. There are savages on the lake shore already,
and no man can say how near to us they may be at this very moment, or when
we may hear more from them!”

“If this be true, Master Hutter,” said Hurry, whose change of countenance
denoted how serious he deemed the information, though it did not denote
any unmanly alarm, “if this be true, your ark is in a most misfortunate
position, for, though the cover did deceive Deerslayer and myself, it
would hardly be overlooked by a full-blooded Injin, who was out seriously
in s’arch of scalps!”

“I think as you do, Hurry, and wish, with all my heart, we lay anywhere
else, at this moment, than in this narrow, crooked stream, which has many
advantages to hide in, but which is almost fatal to them that are
discovered. The savages are near us, moreover, and the difficulty is, to
get out of the river without being shot down like deer standing at a
lick!”

“Are you sartain, Master Hutter, that the red-skins you dread are ra’al
Canadas?” asked Deerslayer, in a modest but earnest manner. “Have you seen
any, and can you describe their paint?”

“I have fallen in with the signs of their being in the neighborhood, but
have seen none of ’em. I was down stream a mile or so, looking to my
traps, when I struck a fresh trail, crossing the corner of a swamp, and
moving northward. The man had not passed an hour; and I know’d it for an
Indian footstep, by the size of the foot, and the intoe, even before I
found a worn moccasin, which its owner had dropped as useless. For that
matter, I found the spot where he halted to make a new one, which was only
a few yards from the place where he had dropped the old one.”

“That doesn’t look much like a red-skin on the war path!” returned the
other, shaking his head. “An exper’enced warrior, at least, would have
burned, or buried, or sunk in the river such signs of his passage; and
your trail is, quite likely, a peaceable trail. But the moccasin may
greatly relieve my mind, if you bethought you of bringing it off. I’ve
come here to meet a young chief myself; and his course would be much in
the direction you’ve mentioned. The trail may have been his’n.”

“Hurry Harry, you’re well acquainted with this young man, I hope, who has
meetings with savages in a part of the country where he has never been
before?” demanded Hutter, in a tone and in a manner that sufficiently
indicated the motive of the question; these rude beings seldom hesitating,
on the score of delicacy, to betray their feelings. “Treachery is an
Indian virtue; and the whites, that live much in their tribes, soon catch
their ways and practices.”

“True—true as the Gospel, old Tom; but not personable to Deerslayer,
who’s a young man of truth, if he has no other ricommend. I’ll answer for
his honesty, whatever I may do for his valor in battle.”

“I should like to know his errand in this strange quarter of the country.”

“That is soon told, Master Hutter,” said the young man, with the composure
of one who kept a clean conscience. “I think, moreover, you’ve a right to
ask it. The father of two such darters, who occupies a lake, after your
fashion, has just the same right to inquire into a stranger’s business in
his neighborhood, as the colony would have to demand the reason why the
Frenchers put more rijiments than common along the lines. No, no, I’ll not
deny your right to know why a stranger comes into your habitation or
country, in times as serious as these.”

“If such is your way of thinking, friend, let me hear your story without
more words.”

“’T is soon told, as I said afore; and shall be honestly told. I’m a young
man, and, as yet, have never been on a war-path; but no sooner did the
news come among the Delawares, that wampum and a hatchet were about to be
sent in to the tribe, than they wished me to go out among the people of my
own color, and get the exact state of things for ’em. This I did, and,
after delivering my talk to the chiefs, on my return, I met an officer of
the crown on the Schoharie, who had messages to send to some of the
fri’ndly tribes that live farther west. This was thought a good occasion
for Chingachgook, a young chief who has never struck a foe, and myself; to
go on our first war path in company, and an app’intment was made for us,
by an old Delaware, to meet at the rock near the foot of this lake. I’ll
not deny that Chingachgook has another object in view, but it has no
consarn with any here, and is his secret and not mine; therefore I’ll say
no more about it.”

“’Tis something about a young woman,” interrupted Judith hastily, then
laughing at her own impetuosity, and even having the grace to colour a
little, at the manner in which she had betrayed her readiness to impute
such a motive. “If ’tis neither war, nor a hunt, it must be love.”

“Ay, it comes easy for the young and handsome, who hear so much of them
feelin’s, to suppose that they lie at the bottom of most proceedin’s; but,
on that head, I say nothin’. Chingachgook is to meet me at the rock, an
hour afore sunset to-morrow evening, after which we shall go our way
together, molesting none but the king’s inimies, who are lawfully our own.
Knowing Hurry of old, who once trapped in our hunting grounds, and falling
in with him on the Schoharie, just as he was on the p’int of starting for
his summer ha’nts, we agreed to journey in company; not so much from fear
of the Mingos, as from good fellowship, and, as he says, to shorten a long
road.”

“And you think the trail I saw may have been that of your friend, ahead of
his time?” said Hutter.

“That’s my idee, which may be wrong, but which may be right. If I saw the
moccasin, howsever, I could tell, in a minute, whether it is made in the
Delaware fashion, or not.”

“Here it is, then,” said the quick-witted Judith, who had already gone to
the canoe in quest of it. “Tell us what it says; friend or enemy. You look
honest, and I believe all you say, whatever father may think.”

“That’s the way with you, Jude; forever finding out friends, where I
distrust foes,” grumbled Tom: “but, speak out, young man, and tell us what
you think of the moccasin.”

“That’s not Delaware made,” returned Deerslayer, examining the worn and
rejected covering for the foot with a cautious eye. “I’m too young on a
war-path to be positive, but I should say that moccasin has a northern
look, and comes from beyond the Great Lakes.”

“If such is the case, we ought not to lie here a minute longer than is
necessary,” said Hutter, glancing through the leaves of his cover, as if
he already distrusted the presence of an enemy on the opposite shore of
the narrow and sinuous stream. “It wants but an hour or so of night, and
to move in the dark will be impossible, without making a noise that would
betray us. Did you hear the echo of a piece in the mountains, half-an-hour
since?”

“Yes, old man, and heard the piece itself,” answered Hurry, who now felt
the indiscretion of which he had been guilty, “for the last was fired from
my own shoulder.”

“I feared it came from the French Indians; still it may put them on the
look-out, and be a means of discovering us. You did wrong to fire in
war-time, unless there was good occasion.

“So I begin to think myself, Uncle Tom; and yet, if a man can’t trust
himself to let off his rifle in a wilderness that is a thousand miles
square, lest some inimy should hear it, where’s the use in carrying one?”

Hutter now held a long consultation with his two guests, in which the
parties came to a true understanding of their situation. He explained the
difficulty that would exist in attempting to get the ark out of so swift
and narrow a stream, in the dark, without making a noise that could not
fail to attract Indian ears. Any strollers in their vicinity would keep
near the river or the lake; but the former had swampy shores in many
places, and was both so crooked and so fringed with bushes, that it was
quite possible to move by daylight without incurring much danger of being
seen. More was to be apprehended, perhaps, from the ear than from the eye,
especially as long as they were in the short, straitened, and canopied
reaches of the stream.

“I never drop down into this cover, which is handy to my traps, and safer
than the lake from curious eyes, without providing the means of getting
out ag’in,” continued this singular being; “and that is easier done by a
pull than a push. My anchor is now lying above the suction, in the open
lake; and here is a line, you see, to haul us up to it. Without some such
help, a single pair of hands would make heavy work in forcing a scow like
this up stream. I have a sort of a crab, too, that lightens the pull, on
occasion. Jude can use the oar astern as well as myself; and when we fear
no enemy, to get out of the river gives us but little trouble.”

“What should we gain, Master Hutter, by changing the position?” asked
Deerslayer, with a good deal of earnestness; “this is a safe cover, and a
stout defence might be made from the inside of this cabin. I’ve never
fou’t unless in the way of tradition; but it seems to me we might beat off
twenty Mingos, with palisades like them afore us.”

“Ay, ay; you ‘ve never fought except in traditions, that’s plain enough,
young man! Did you ever see as broad a sheet of water as this above us,
before you came in upon it with Hurry?”

“I can’t say that I ever did,” Deerslayer answered, modestly. “Youth is
the time to l’arn; and I’m far from wishing to raise my voice in counsel,
afore it is justified by exper’ence.”

“Well, then, I’ll teach you the disadvantage of fighting in this position,
and the advantage of taking to the open lake. Here, you may see, the
savages will know where to aim every shot; and it would be too much to
hope that some would not find their way through the crevices of the logs.
Now, on the other hand, we should have nothing but a forest to aim at.
Then we are not safe from fire, here, the bark of this roof being little
better than so much kindling-wood. The castle, too, might be entered and
ransacked in my absence, and all my possessions overrun and destroyed.
Once in the lake, we can be attacked only in boats or on rafts—shall
have a fair chance with the enemy—and can protect the castle with
the ark. Do you understand this reasoning, youngster?”

“It sounds well—yes, it has a rational sound; and I’ll not gainsay
it.”

“Well, old Tom,” cried Hurry, “If we are to move, the sooner we make a
beginning, the sooner we shall know whether we are to have our scalps for
night-caps, or not.”

As this proposition was self-evident, no one denied its justice. The three
men, after a short preliminary explanation, now set about their
preparations to move the ark in earnest. The slight fastenings were
quickly loosened; and, by hauling on the line, the heavy craft slowly
emerged from the cover. It was no sooner free from the incumbrance of the
branches, than it swung into the stream, sheering quite close to the
western shore, by the force of the current. Not a soul on board heard the
rustling of the branches, as the cabin came against the bushes and trees
of the western bank, without a feeling of uneasiness; for no one knew at
what moment, or in what place, a secret and murderous enemy might unmask
himself. Perhaps the gloomy light that still struggled through the
impending canopy of leaves, or found its way through the narrow,
ribbon-like opening, which seemed to mark, in the air above, the course of
the river that flowed beneath, aided in augmenting the appearance of the
danger; for it was little more than sufficient to render objects visible,
without giving up all their outlines at a glance. Although the sun had not
absolutely set, it had withdrawn its direct rays from the valley; and the
hues of evening were beginning to gather around objects that stood
uncovered, rendering those within the shadows of the woods still more
sombre and gloomy.

No interruption followed the movement, however, and, as the men continued
to haul on the line, the ark passed steadily ahead, the great breadth of
the scow preventing its sinking into the water, and from offering much
resistance to the progress of the swift element beneath its bottom.
Hutter, too, had adopted a precaution suggested by experience, which might
have done credit to a seaman, and which completely prevented any of the
annoyances and obstacles which otherwise would have attended the short
turns of the river. As the ark descended, heavy stones, attached to the
line, were dropped in the centre of the stream, forming local anchors,
each of which was kept from dragging by the assistance of those above it,
until the uppermost of all was reached, which got its “backing” from the
anchor, or grapnel, that lay well out in the lake. In consequence of this
expedient, the ark floated clear of the incumbrances of the shore, against
which it would otherwise have been unavoidably hauled at every turn,
producing embarrassments that Hutter, single-handed, would have found it
very difficult to overcome. Favored by this foresight, and stimulated by
the apprehension of discovery, Floating Tom and his two athletic
companions hauled the ark ahead with quite as much rapidity as comported
with the strength of the line. At every turn in the stream, a stone was
raised from the bottom, when the direction of the scow changed to one that
pointed towards the stone that lay above. In this manner, with the channel
buoyed out for him, as a sailor might term it, did Hutter move forward,
occasionally urging his friends, in a low and guarded voice, to increase
their exertions, and then, as occasions offered, warning them against
efforts that might, at particular moments, endanger all by too much zeal.
In spite of their long familiarity with the woods, the gloomy character of
the shaded river added to the uneasiness that each felt; and when the ark
reached the first bend in the Susquehannah, and the eye caught a glimpse
of the broader expanse of the lake, all felt a relief, that perhaps none
would have been willing to confess. Here the last stone was raised from
the bottom, and the line led directly towards the grapnel, which, as
Hutter had explained, was dropped above the suction of the current.

“Thank God!” ejaculated Hurry, “there is daylight, and we shall soon have
a chance of seeing our inimies, if we are to feel ’em.”

“That is more than you or any man can say,” growled Hutter. “There is no
spot so likely to harbor a party as the shore around the outlet, and the
moment we clear these trees and get into open water, will be the most
trying time, since it will leave the enemy a cover, while it puts us out
of one. Judith, girl, do you and Hetty leave the oar to take care of
itself; and go within the cabin; and be mindful not to show your faces at
a window; for they who will look at them won’t stop to praise their
beauty. And now, Hurry, we’ll step into this outer room ourselves, and
haul through the door, where we shall all be safe, from a surprise, at
least. Friend Deerslayer, as the current is lighter, and the line has all
the strain on it that is prudent, do you keep moving from window to
window, taking care not to let your head be seen, if you set any value on
life. No one knows when or where we shall hear from our neighbors.”

Deerslayer complied, with a sensation that had nothing in common with
fear, but which had all the interest of a perfectly novel and a most
exciting situation. For the first time in his life he was in the vicinity
of enemies, or had good reason to think so; and that, too, under all the
thrilling circumstances of Indian surprises and Indian artifices. As he
took his stand at the window, the ark was just passing through the
narrowest part of the stream, a point where the water first entered what
was properly termed the river, and where the trees fairly interlocked
overhead, causing the current to rush into an arch of verdure; a feature
as appropriate and peculiar to the country, perhaps, as that of
Switzerland, where the rivers come rushing literally from chambers of ice.

The ark was in the act of passing the last curve of this leafy entrance,
as Deerslayer, having examined all that could be seen of the eastern bank
of the river, crossed the room to look from the opposite window, at the
western. His arrival at this aperture was most opportune, for he had no
sooner placed his eye at a crack, than a sight met his gaze that might
well have alarmed a sentinel so young and inexperienced. A sapling
overhung the water, in nearly half a circle, having first grown towards
the light, and then been pressed down into this form by the weight of the
snows; a circumstance of common occurrence in the American woods. On this
no less than six Indians had already appeared, others standing ready to
follow them, as they left room; each evidently bent on running out on the
trunk, and dropping on the roof of the ark as it passed beneath. This
would have been an exploit of no great difficulty, the inclination of the
tree admitting of an easy passage, the adjoining branches offering ample
support for the hands, and the fall being too trifling to be apprehended.
When Deerslayer first saw this party, it was just unmasking itself, by
ascending the part of the tree nearest to the earth, or that which was
much the most difficult to overcome; and his knowledge of Indian habits
told him at once that they were all in their war-paint, and belonged to a
hostile tribe.

“Pull, Hurry,” he cried; “pull for your life, and as you love Judith
Hutter! Pull, man, pull!”

This call was made to one that the young man knew had the strength of a
giant. It was so earnest and solemn, that both Hutter and March felt it
was not idly given, and they applied all their force to the line
simultaneously, and at a most critical moment. The scow redoubled its
motion, and seemed to glide from under the tree as if conscious of the
danger that was impending overhead. Perceiving that they were discovered,
the Indians uttered the fearful war-whoop, and running forward on the
tree, leaped desperately towards their fancied prize. There were six on
the tree, and each made the effort. All but their leader fell into the
river more or less distant from the ark, as they came, sooner or later, to
the leaping place. The chief, who had taken the dangerous post in advance,
having an earlier opportunity than the others, struck the scow just within
the stern. The fall proving so much greater than he had anticipated, he
was slightly stunned, and for a moment he remained half bent and
unconscious of his situation. At this instant Judith rushed from the
cabin, her beauty heightened by the excitement that produced the bold act,
which flushed her cheek to crimson, and, throwing all her strength into
the effort, she pushed the intruder over the edge of the scow, headlong
into the river. This decided feat was no sooner accomplished than the
woman resumed her sway; Judith looked over the stern to ascertain what had
become of the man, and the expression of her eyes softened to concern,
next, her cheek crimsoned between shame and surprise at her own temerity,
and then she laughed in her own merry and sweet manner. All this occupied
less than a minute, when the arm of Deerslayer was thrown around her
waist, and she was dragged swiftly within the protection of the cabin.
This retreat was not effected too soon. Scarcely were the two in safety,
when the forest was filled with yells, and bullets began to patter against
the logs.

The ark being in swift motion all this while, it was beyond the danger of
pursuit by the time these little events had occurred; and the savages, as
soon as the first burst of their anger had subsided, ceased firing, with
the consciousness that they were expending their ammunition in vain. When
the scow came up over her grapnel, Hutter tripped the latter in a way not
to impede the motion; and being now beyond the influence of the current,
the vessel continued to drift ahead, until fairly in the open lake, though
still near enough to the land to render exposure to a rifle-bullet
dangerous. Hutter and March got out two small sweeps and, covered by the
cabin, they soon urged the ark far enough from the shore to leave no
inducement to their enemies to make any further attempt to injure them.


Chapter V.

Another consultation took place in the forward part of the scow, at which
both Judith and Hetty were present. As no danger could now approach
unseen, immediate uneasiness had given place to the concern which attended
the conviction that enemies were in considerable force on the shores of
the lake, and that they might be sure no practicable means of
accomplishing their own destruction would be neglected. As a matter of
course Hutter felt these truths the deepest, his daughters having an
habitual reliance on his resources, and knowing too little to appreciate
fully all the risks they ran; while his male companions were at liberty to
quit him at any moment they saw fit. His first remark showed that he had
an eye to the latter circumstance, and might have betrayed, to a keen
observer, the apprehension that was just then uppermost.

“We’ve a great advantage over the Iroquois, or the enemy, whoever they
are, in being afloat,” he said.

“There’s not a canoe on the lake that I don’t know where it’s hid; and now
yours is here. Hurry, there are but three more on the land, and they’re so
snug in hollow logs that I don’t believe the Indians could find them, let
them try ever so long.”

“There’s no telling that—no one can say that,” put in Deerslayer; “a
hound is not more sartain on the scent than a red-skin, when he expects to
get anything by it. Let this party see scalps afore ’em, or plunder, or
honor accordin’ to their idees of what honor is, and ‘t will be a tight
log that hides a canoe from their eyes.”

“You’re right, Deerslayer,” cried Harry March; “you’re downright Gospel in
this matter, and I rej’ice that my bunch of bark is safe enough here,
within reach of my arm. I calcilate they’ll be at all the rest of the
canoes afore to-morrow night, if they are in ra’al ‘arnest to smoke you
out, old Tom, and we may as well overhaul our paddles for a pull.”

Hutter made no immediate reply. He looked about him in silence for quite a
minute, examining the sky, the lake, and the belt of forest which inclosed
it, as it might be hermetically, like one consulting their signs. Nor did
he find any alarming symptoms. The boundless woods were sleeping in the
deep repose of nature, the heavens were placid, but still luminous with
the light of the retreating sun, while the lake looked more lovely and
calm than it had before done that day. It was a scene altogether soothing,
and of a character to lull the passions into a species of holy calm. How
far this effect was produced, however, on the party in the ark, must
appear in the progress of our narrative.

“Judith,” called out the father, when he had taken this close but short
survey of the omens, “night is at hand; find our friends food; a long
march gives a sharp appetite.”

“We’re not starving, Master Hutter,” March observed, “for we filled up
just as we reached the lake, and for one, I prefer the company of Jude
even to her supper. This quiet evening is very agreeable to sit by her
side.”

“Natur’ is natur’,” objected Hutter, “and must be fed. Judith, see to the
meal, and take your sister to help you. I’ve a little discourse to hold
with you, friends,” he continued, as soon as his daughters were out of
hearing, “and wish the girls away. You see my situation, and I should like
to hear your opinions concerning what is best to be done. Three times have
I been burnt out already, but that was on the shore; and I’ve considered
myself as pretty safe ever since I got the castle built, and the ark
afloat. My other accidents, however, happened in peaceable times, being
nothing more than such flurries as a man must meet with, in the woods; but
this matter looks serious, and your ideas would greatly relieve my mind.”

“It’s my notion, old Tom, that you, and your huts, and your traps, and
your whole possessions, hereaway, are in desperate jippardy,” returned the
matter-of-fact Hurry, who saw no use in concealment. “Accordin’ to my
idees of valie, they’re altogether not worth half as much today as they
was yesterday, nor would I give more for ’em, taking the pay in skins.”

“Then I’ve children!” continued the father, making the allusion in a way
that it might have puzzled even an indifferent observer to say was
intended as a bait, or as an exclamation of paternal concern, “daughters,
as you know, Hurry, and good girls too, I may say, though I am their
father.”

“A man may say anything, Master Hutter, particularly when pressed by time
and circumstances. You’ve darters, as you say, and one of them hasn’t her
equal on the frontiers for good looks, whatever she may have for good
behavior. As for poor Hetty, she’s Hetty Hutter, and that’s as much as one
can say about the poor thing. Give me Jude, if her conduct was only equal
to her looks!”

“I see, Harry March, I can only count on you as a fair-weather friend; and
I suppose that your companion will be of the same way of thinking,”
returned the other, with a slight show of pride, that was not altogether
without dignity; “well, I must depend on Providence, which will not turn a
deaf ear, perhaps, to a father’s prayers.”

“If you’ve understood Hurry, here, to mean that he intends to desart you,”
said Deerslayer, with an earnest simplicity that gave double assurance of
its truth, “I think you do him injustice, as I know you do me, in
supposing I would follow him, was he so ontrue-hearted as to leave a
family of his own color in such a strait as this. I’ve come on this at
take, Master Hutter, to rende’vous a fri’nd, and I only wish he was here
himself, as I make no doubt he will be at sunset to-morrow, when you’d
have another rifle to aid you; an inexper’enced one, I’ll allow, like my
own, but one that has proved true so often ag’in the game, big and little,
that I’ll answer for its sarvice ag’in mortals.”

“May I depend on you to stand by me and my daughters, then, Deerslayer?”
demanded the old man, with a father’s anxiety in his countenance.

“That may you, Floating Tom, if that’s your name; and as a brother would
stand by a sister, a husband his wife, or a suitor his sweetheart. In this
strait you may count on me, through all advarsities; and I think Hurry
does discredit to his natur’ and wishes, if you can’t count on him.”

“Not he,” cried Judith, thrusting her handsome face out of the door; “his
nature is hurry, as well as his name, and he’ll hurry off, as soon as he
thinks his fine figure in danger. Neither ‘old Tom,’ nor his ‘gals,’ will
depend much on Master March, now they know him, but you they will rely on,
Deerslayer; for your honest face and honest heart tell us that what you
promise you will perform.”

This was said, as much, perhaps, in affected scorn for Hurry, as in
sincerity. Still, it was not said without feeling. The fine face of Judith
sufficiently proved the latter circumstance; and if the conscious March
fancied that he had never seen in it a stronger display of contempt—a
feeling in which the beauty was apt to indulge—than while she was
looking at him, it certainly seldom exhibited more of a womanly softness
and sensibility, than when her speaking blue eyes were turned on his
travelling companion.

“Leave us, Judith,” Hutter ordered sternly, before either of the young men
could reply; “leave us; and do not return until you come with the venison
and fish. The girl has been spoilt by the flattery of the officers, who
sometimes find their way up here, Master March, and you’ll not think any
harm of her silly words.”

“You never said truer syllable, old Tom,” retorted Hurry, who smarted
under Judith’s observations; “the devil-tongued youngsters of the garrison
have proved her undoing! I scarce know Jude any longer, and shall soon
take to admiring her sister, who is getting to be much more to my fancy.”

“I’m glad to hear this, Harry, and look upon it as a sign that you’re
coming to your right senses. Hetty would make a much safer and more
rational companion than Jude, and would be much the most likely to listen
to your suit, as the officers have, I greatly fear, unsettled her sister’s
mind.”

“No man needs a safer wife than Hetty,” said Hurry, laughing, “though I’ll
not answer for her being of the most rational. But no matter; Deerslayer
has not misconceived me, when he told you I should be found at my post.
I’ll not quit you, Uncle Tom, just now, whatever may be my feelin’s and
intentions respecting your eldest darter.”

Hurry had a respectable reputation for prowess among his associates, and
Hutter heard this pledge with a satisfaction that was not concealed. Even
the great personal strength of such an aid became of moment, in moving the
ark, as well as in the species of hand-to-hand conflicts, that were not
unfrequent in the woods; and no commander who was hard pressed could feel
more joy at hearing of the arrival of reinforcements, than the borderer
experienced at being told this important auxiliary was not about to quit
him. A minute before, Hutter would have been well content to compromise
his danger, by entering into a compact to act only on the defensive; but
no sooner did he feel some security on this point, than the restlessness
of man induced him to think of the means of carrying the war into the
enemy’s country.

“High prices are offered for scalps on both sides,” he observed, with a
grim smile, as if he felt the force of the inducement, at the very time he
wished to affect a superiority to earning money by means that the ordinary
feelings of those who aspire to be civilized men repudiated, even while
they were adopted. “It isn’t right, perhaps, to take gold for human blood;
and yet, when mankind is busy in killing one another, there can be no
great harm in adding a little bit of skin to the plunder. What’s your
sentiments, Hurry, touching these p’ints?”

“That you’ve made a vast mistake, old man, in calling savage blood human
blood, at all. I think no more of a red-skin’s scalp than I do of a pair
of wolf’s ears; and would just as lief finger money for the one as for the
other. With white people ‘t is different, for they’ve a nat’ral avarsion
to being scalped; whereas your Indian shaves his head in readiness for the
knife, and leaves a lock of hair by way of braggadocio, that one can lay
hold of in the bargain.”

“That’s manly, however, and I felt from the first that we had only to get
you on our side, to have your heart and hand,” returned Tom, losing all
his reserve, as he gained a renewed confidence in the disposition of his
companions. “Something more may turn up from this inroad of the red-skins
than they bargained for. Deerslayer, I conclude you’re of Hurry’s way of
thinking, and look upon money ‘arned in this way as being as likely to
pass as money ‘arned in trapping or hunting.”

“I’ve no such feelin’, nor any wish to harbor it, not I,” returned the
other. “My gifts are not scalpers’ gifts, but such as belong to my
religion and color. I’ll stand by you, old man, in the ark or in the
castle, the canoe or the woods, but I’ll not unhumanize my natur’ by
falling into ways that God intended for another race. If you and Hurry
have got any thoughts that lean towards the colony’s gold, go by
yourselves in s’arch of it, and leave the females to my care. Much as I
must differ from you both on all gifts that do not properly belong to a
white man, we shall agree that it is the duty of the strong to take care
of the weak, especially when the last belong to them that natur’ intended
man to protect and console by his gentleness and strength.”

“Hurry Harry, that is a lesson you might learn and practise on to some
advantage,” said the sweet, but spirited voice of Judith, from the cabin;
a proof that she had over-heard all that had hitherto been said.

“No more of this, Jude,” called out the father angrily. “Move farther off;
we are about to talk of matters unfit for a woman to listen to.”

Hutter did not take any steps, however, to ascertain whether he was obeyed
or not; but dropping his voice a little, he pursued the discourse.

“The young man is right, Hurry,” he said; “and we can leave the children
in his care. Now, my idea is just this; and I think you’ll agree that it
is rational and correct. There’s a large party of these savages on shore
and, though I didn’t tell it before the girls, for they’re womanish, and
apt to be troublesome when anything like real work is to be done, there’s
women among ’em. This I know from moccasin prints; and ‘t is likely they
are hunters, after all, who have been out so long that they know nothing
of the war, or of the bounties.”

“In which case, old Tom, why was their first salute an attempt to cut our
throats?”

“We don’t know that their design was so bloody. It’s natural and easy for
an Indian to fall into ambushes and surprises; and, no doubt they wished
to get on board the ark first, and to make their conditions afterwards.
That a disapp’inted savage should fire at us, is in rule; and I think
nothing of that. Besides, how often they burned me out, and robbed my
traps—ay, and pulled trigger on me, in the most peaceful times?”

“The blackguards will do such things, I must allow; and we pay ’em off
pretty much in their own c’ine. Women would not be on the war-path,
sartainly; and, so far, there’s reason in your idee.”

“Nor would a hunter be in his war-paint,” returned Deerslayer. “I saw the
Mingos, and know that they are out on the trail of mortal men; and not for
beaver or deer.”

“There you have it ag’in, old fellow,” said Hurry. “In the way of an eye,
now, I’d as soon trust this young man, as trust the oldest settler in the
colony; if he says paint, why paint it was.”

“Then a hunting-party and a war-party have met, for women must have been
with ’em. It’s only a few days since the runner went through with the
tidings of the troubles; and it may be that warriors have come out to call
in their women and children, to get an early blow.”

“That would stand the courts, and is just the truth,” cried Hurry; “you’ve
got it now, old Tom, and I should like to hear what you mean to make out
of it.”

“The bounty,” returned the other, looking up at his attentive companion in
a cool, sullen manner, in which, however, heartless cupidity and
indifference to the means were far more conspicuous than any feelings of
animosity or revenge.

“If there’s women, there’s children; and big and little have scalps; the
colony pays for all alike.”

“More shame to it, that it should do so,” interrupted Deerslayer; “more
shame to it, that it don’t understand its gifts, and pay greater attention
to the will of God.”

“Hearken to reason, lad, and don’t cry out afore you understand a case,”
returned the unmoved Hurry; “the savages scalp your fri’nds, the
Delawares, or Mohicans whichever they may be, among the rest; and why
shouldn’t we scalp? I will own, it would be ag’in right for you and me
now, to go into the settlements and bring out scalps, but it’s a very
different matter as concerns Indians. A man shouldn’t take scalps, if he
isn’t ready to be scalped, himself, on fitting occasions. One good turn
desarves another, the world over. That’s reason, and I believe it to be
good religion.”

“Ay, Master Hurry,” again interrupted the rich voice of Judith, “is it
religion to say that one bad turn deserves another?”

“I’ll never reason ag’in you, Judy, for you beat me with beauty, if you
can’t with sense. Here’s the Canadas paying their Injins for scalps, and
why not we pay—”

“Our Indians!” exclaimed the girl, laughing with a sort of melancholy
merriment. “Father, father! think no more of this, and listen to the
advice of Deerslayer, who has a conscience; which is more than I can say
or think of Harry March.”

Hutter now rose, and, entering the cabin, he compelled his daughters to go
into the adjoining room, when he secured both the doors, and returned.
Then he and Hurry pursued the subject; but, as the purport of all that was
material in this discourse will appear in the narrative, it need not be
related here in detail. The reader, however, can have no difficulty in
comprehending the morality that presided over their conference. It was, in
truth, that which, in some form or other, rules most of the acts of men,
and in which the controlling principle is that one wrong will justify
another. Their enemies paid for scalps, and this was sufficient to justify
the colony for retaliating. It is true, the French used the same argument,
a circumstance, as Hurry took occasion to observe in answer to one of
Deerslayer’s objections, that proved its truth, as mortal enemies would
not be likely to have recourse to the same reason unless it were a good
one. But neither Hutter nor Hurry was a man likely to stick at trifles in
matters connected with the right of the aborigines, since it is one of the
consequences of aggression that it hardens the conscience, as the only
means of quieting it. In the most peaceable state of the country, a
species of warfare was carried on between the Indians, especially those of
the Canadas, and men of their caste; and the moment an actual and
recognized warfare existed, it was regarded as the means of lawfully
revenging a thousand wrongs, real and imaginary. Then, again, there was
some truth, and a good deal of expediency, in the principle of
retaliation, of which they both availed themselves, in particular, to
answer the objections of their juster-minded and more scrupulous
companion.

“You must fight a man with his own we’pons, Deerslayer,” cried Hurry, in
his uncouth dialect, and in his dogmatical manner of disposing of all oral
propositions; “if he’s f’erce you must be f’ercer; if he’s stout of heart,
you must be stouter. This is the way to get the better of Christian or
savage: by keeping up to this trail, you’ll get soonest to the ind of your
journey.”

“That’s not Moravian doctrine, which teaches that all are to be judged
according to their talents or l’arning; the Injin like an Injin; and the
white man like a white man. Some of their teachers say, that if you’re
struck on the cheek, it’s a duty to turn the other side of the face, and
take another blow, instead of seeking revenge, whereby I understand—”

“That’s enough!” shouted Hurry; “that’s all I want, to prove a man’s
doctrine! How long would it take to kick a man through the colony—in
at one ind and out at the other, on that principle?”

“Don’t mistake me, March,” returned the young hunter, with dignity; “I
don’t understand by this any more than that it’s best to do this, if
possible. Revenge is an Injin gift, and forgiveness a white man’s. That’s
all. Overlook all you can is what’s meant; and not revenge all you can. As
for kicking, Master Hurry,” and Deerslayer’s sunburnt cheek flushed as he
continued, “into the colony, or out of the colony, that’s neither here nor
there, seeing no one proposes it, and no one would be likely to put up
with it. What I wish to say is, that a red-skin’s scalping don’t justify a
pale-face’s scalping.”

“Do as you’re done by, Deerslayer; that’s ever the Christian parson’s
doctrine.”

“No, Hurry, I’ve asked the Moravians consarning that; and it’s altogether
different. ‘Do as you would be done by,’ they tell me, is the true saying,
while men practyse the false. They think all the colonies wrong that offer
bounties for scalps, and believe no blessing will follow the measures.
Above all things, they forbid revenge.”

“That for your Moravians!” cried March, snapping his fingers; “they’re the
next thing to Quakers; and if you’d believe all they tell you, not even a
‘rat would be skinned, out of marcy. Who ever heard of marcy on a
muskrat!”

The disdainful manner of Hurry prevented a reply, and he and the old man
resumed the discussion of their plans in a more quiet and confidential
manner. This confidence lasted until Judith appeared, bearing the simple
but savory supper. March observed, with a little surprise, that she placed
the choicest bits before Deerslayer, and that in the little nameless
attentions it was in her power to bestow, she quite obviously manifested a
desire to let it be seen that she deemed him the honored guest.
Accustomed, however, to the waywardness and coquetry of the beauty, this
discovery gave him little concern, and he ate with an appetite that was in
no degree disturbed by any moral causes. The easily-digested food of the
forests offering the fewest possible obstacles to the gratification of
this great animal indulgence, Deerslayer, notwithstanding the hearty meal
both had taken in the woods, was in no manner behind his companion in
doing justice to the viands.

An hour later the scene had greatly changed. The lake was still placid and
glassy, but the gloom of the hour had succeeded to the soft twilight of a
summer evening, and all within the dark setting of the woods lay in the
quiet repose of night. The forests gave up no song, or cry, or even
murmur, but looked down from the hills on the lovely basin they encircled,
in solemn stillness; and the only sound that was audible was the regular
dip of the sweeps, at which Hurry and Deerslayer lazily pushed, impelling
the ark towards the castle. Hutter had withdrawn to the stern of the scow,
in order to steer, but, finding that the young men kept even strokes, and
held the desired course by their own skill, he permitted the oar to drag
in the water, took a seat on the end of the vessel, and lighted his pipe.
He had not been thus placed many minutes, ere Hetty came stealthily out of
the cabin, or house, as they usually termed that part of the ark, and
placed herself at his feet, on a little bench that she brought with her.
As this movement was by no means unusual in his feeble-minded child, the
old man paid no other attention to it than to lay his hand kindly on her
head, in an affectionate and approving manner; an act of grace that the
girl received in meek silence.

After a pause of several minutes, Hetty began to sing. Her voice was low
and tremulous, but it was earnest and solemn. The words and the tune were
of the simplest form, the first being a hymn that she had been taught by
her mother, and the last one of those natural melodies that find favor
with all classes, in every age, coming from and being addressed to the
feelings. Hutter never listened to this simple strain without finding his
heart and manner softened; facts that his daughter well knew, and by which
she had often profited, through the sort of holy instinct that enlightens
the weak of mind, more especially in their aims toward good.

Hetty’s low, sweet tones had not been raised many moments, when the dip of
the oars ceased, and the holy strain arose singly on the breathing silence
of the wilderness. As if she gathered courage with the theme, her powers
appeared to increase as she proceeded; and though nothing vulgar or noisy
mingled in her melody, its strength and melancholy tenderness grew on the
ear, until the air was filled with this simple homage of a soul that
seemed almost spotless. That the men forward were not indifferent to this
touching interruption, was proved by their inaction; nor did their oars
again dip until the last of the sweet sounds had actually died among the
remarkable shores, which, at that witching hour, would waft even the
lowest modulations of the human voice more than a mile. Hutter was much
affected; for rude as he was by early habits, and even ruthless as he had
got to be by long exposure to the practices of the wilderness, his nature
was of that fearful mixture of good and evil that so generally enters into
the moral composition of man.

“You are sad to-night, child,” said the father, whose manner and language
usually assumed some of the gentleness and elevation of the civilized life
he had led in youth, when he thus communed with this particular child; “we
have just escaped from enemies, and ought rather to rejoice.”

“You can never do it, father!” said Hetty, in a low, remonstrating manner,
taking his hard, knotty hand into both her own; “you have talked long with
Harry March; but neither of you have the heart to do it!”

“This is going beyond your means, foolish child; you must have been
naughty enough to have listened, or you could know nothing of our talk.”

“Why should you and Hurry kill people—especially women and
children?”

“Peace, girl, peace; we are at war, and must do to our enemies as our
enemies would do to us.”

“That’s not it, father! I heard Deerslayer say how it was. You must do to
your enemies as you wish your enemies would do to you. No man wishes his
enemies to kill him.”

“We kill our enemies in war, girl, lest they should kill us. One side or
the other must begin; and them that begin first, are most apt to get the
victory. You know nothing about these things, poor Hetty, and had best say
nothing.”

“Judith says it is wrong, father; and Judith has sense though I have
none.”

“Jude understands better than to talk to me of these matters; for she has
sense, as you say, and knows I’ll not bear it. Which would you prefer,
Hetty; to have your own scalp taken, and sold to the French, or that we
should kill our enemies, and keep them from harming us?”

“That’s not it, father! Don’t kill them, nor let them kill us. Sell your
skins, and get more, if you can; but don’t sell human blood.”

“Come, come, child; let us talk of matters you understand. Are you glad to
see our old friend, March, back again? You like Hurry, and must know that
one day he may be your brother—if not something nearer.”

“That can’t be, father,” returned the girl, after a considerable pause;
“Hurry has had one father, and one mother; and people never have two.”

“So much for your weak mind, Hetty. When Jude marries, her husband’s
father will be her father, and her husband’s sister her sister. If she
should marry Hurry, then he will be your brother.”

“Judith will never have Hurry,” returned the girl mildly, but positively;
“Judith don’t like Hurry.”

“That’s more than you can know, Hetty. Harry March is the handsomest, and
the strongest, and the boldest young man that ever visits the lake; and,
as Jude is the greatest beauty, I don’t see why they shouldn’t come
together. He has as much as promised that he will enter into this job with
me, on condition that I’ll consent.”

Hetty began to move her body back and forth, and other-wise to express
mental agitation; but she made no answer for more than a minute. Her
father, accustomed to her manner, and suspecting no immediate cause of
concern, continued to smoke with the apparent phlegm which would seem to
belong to that particular species of enjoyment.

“Hurry is handsome, father,” said Hetty, with a simple emphasis, that she
might have hesitated about using, had her mind been more alive to the
inferences of others.

“I told you so, child,” muttered old Hutter, without removing the pipe
from between his teeth; “he’s the likeliest youth in these parts; and Jude
is the likeliest young woman I’ve met with since her poor mother was in
her best days.”

“Is it wicked to be ugly, father?’”

“One might be guilty of worse things—but you’re by no means ugly;
though not so comely as Jude.”

“Is Judith any happier for being so handsome?”

“She may be, child, and she may not be. But talk of other matters now, for
you hardly understand these, poor Hetty. How do you like our new
acquaintance, Deerslayer?”

“He isn’t handsome, father. Hurry is far handsomer than Deerslayer.”

“That’s true; but they say he is a noted hunter! His fame had reached me
before I ever saw him; and I did hope he would prove to be as stout a
warrior as he is dexterous with the deer. All men are not alike, howsever,
child; and it takes time, as I know by experience, to give a man a true
wilderness heart.”

“Have I got a wilderness heart, father—and Hurry, is his heart true
wilderness?”

“You sometimes ask queer questions, Hetty! Your heart is good, child, and
fitter for the settlements than for the woods; while your reason is fitter
for the woods than for the settlements.”

“Why has Judith more reason than I, father?”

“Heaven help thee, child: this is more than I can answer. God gives sense,
and appearance, and all these things; and he grants them as he seeth fit.
Dost thou wish for more sense?”

“Not I. The little I have troubles me; for when I think the hardest, then
I feel the unhappiest. I don’t believe thinking is good for me, though I
do wish I was as handsome as Judith!”

“Why so, poor child? Thy sister’s beauty may cause her trouble, as it
caused her mother before her. It’s no advantage, Hetty, to be so marked
for anything as to become an object of envy, or to be sought after more
than others.”

“Mother was good, if she was handsome,” returned the girl, the tears
starting to her eyes, as usually happened when she adverted to her
deceased parent.

Old Hutter, if not equally affected, was moody and silent at this allusion
to his wife. He continued smoking, without appearing disposed to make any
answer, until his simple-minded daughter repeated her remark, in a way to
show that she felt uneasiness lest he might be inclined to deny her
assertion. Then he knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and laying his hand
in a sort of rough kindness on the girl’s head, he made a reply.

“Thy mother was too good for this world,” he said; “though others might
not think so. Her good looks did not befriend her; and you have no
occasion to mourn that you are not as much like her as your sister. Think
less of beauty, child, and more of your duty, and you’ll be as happy on
this lake as you could be in the king’s palace.”

“I know it, father; but Hurry says beauty is everything in a young woman.”

Hutter made an ejaculation expressive of dissatisfaction, and went
forward, passing through the house in order to do so. Hetty’s simple
betrayal of her weakness in behalf of March gave him uneasiness on a
subject concerning which he had never felt before, and he determined to
come to an explanation at once with his visitor; for directness of speech
and decision in conduct were two of the best qualities of this rude being,
in whom the seeds of a better education seemed to be constantly struggling
upwards, to be choked by the fruits of a life in which his hard struggles
for subsistence and security had steeled his feelings and indurated his
nature. When he reached the forward end of the scow, he manifested an
intention to relieve Deerslayer at the oar, directing the latter to take
his own place aft. By these changes, the old man and Hurry were again left
alone, while the young hunter was transferred to the other end of the ark.

Hetty had disappeared when Deerslayer reached his new post, and for some
little time he directed the course of the slow-moving craft by himself. It
was not long, however, before Judith came out of the cabin, as if disposed
to do the honors of the place to a stranger engaged in the service of her
family. The starlight was sufficient to permit objects to be plainly
distinguished when near at hand, and the bright eyes of the girl had an
expression of kindness in them, when they met those of the youth, that the
latter was easily enabled to discover. Her rich hair shaded her spirited
and yet soft countenance, even at that hour rendering it the more
beautiful—as the rose is loveliest when reposing amid the shadows
and contrasts of its native foliage. Little ceremony is used in the
intercourse of the woods; and Judith had acquired a readiness of address,
by the admiration that she so generally excited, which, if it did not
amount to forwardness, certainly in no degree lent to her charms the aid
of that retiring modesty on which poets love to dwell.

“I thought I should have killed myself with laughing, Deerslayer,” the
beauty abruptly but coquettishly commenced, “when I saw that Indian dive
into the river! He was a good-looking savage, too,” the girl always dwelt
on personal beauty as a sort of merit, “and yet one couldn’t stop to
consider whether his paint would stand water!”

“And I thought they would have killed you with their we’pons, Judith,”
returned Deerslayer; “it was an awful risk for a female to run in the face
of a dozen Mingos!”

“Did that make you come out of the cabin, in spite of their rifles, too?”
asked the girl, with more real interest than she would have cared to
betray, though with an indifference of manner that was the result of a
good deal of practice united to native readiness.

“Men ar’n’t apt to see females in danger, and not come to their
assistance. Even a Mingo knows that.”

This sentiment was uttered with as much simplicity of manner as of
feeling, and Judith rewarded it with a smile so sweet, that even
Deerslayer, who had imbibed a prejudice against the girl in consequence of
Hurry’s suspicions of her levity, felt its charm, notwithstanding half its
winning influence was lost in the feeble light. It at once created a sort
of confidence between them, and the discourse was continued on the part of
the hunter, without the lively consciousness of the character of this
coquette of the wilderness, with which it had certainly commenced.

“You are a man of deeds, and not of words, I see plainly, Deerslayer,”
continued the beauty, taking her seat near the spot where the other stood,
“and I foresee we shall be very good friends. Hurry Harry has a tongue,
and, giant as he is, he talks more than he performs.”

“March is your fri’nd, Judith; and fri’nds should be tender of each other,
when apart.”

“We all know what Hurry’s friendship comes to! Let him have his own way in
everything, and he’s the best fellow in the colony; but ‘head him off,’ as
you say of the deer, and he is master of everything near him but himself.
Hurry is no favorite of mine, Deerslayer; and I dare say, if the truth was
known, and his conversation about me repeated, it would be found that he
thinks no better of me than I own I do of him.”

The latter part of this speech was not uttered without uneasiness. Had the
girl’s companion been more sophisticated, he might have observed the
averted face, the manner in which the pretty little foot was agitated, and
other signs that, for some unexplained reason, the opinions of March were
not quite as much a matter of indifference to her as she thought fit to
pretend. Whether this was no more than the ordinary working of female
vanity, feeling keenly even when it affected not to feel at all, or
whether it proceeded from that deeply-seated consciousness of right and
wrong which God himself has implanted in our breasts that we may know good
from evil, will be made more apparent to the reader as we proceed in the
tale. Deerslayer felt embarrassed. He well remembered the cruel
imputations left by March’s distrust; and, while he did not wish to injure
his associate’s suit by exciting resentment against him, his tongue was
one that literally knew no guile. To answer without saying more or less
than he wished, was consequently a delicate duty.

“March has his say of all things in natur’, whether of fri’nd or foe,”
slowly and cautiously rejoined the hunter. “He’s one of them that speak as
they feel while the tongue’s a-going, and that’s sometimes different from
what they’d speak if they took time to consider. Give me a Delaware,
Judith, for one that reflects and ruminates on his idees! Inmity has made
him thoughtful, and a loose tongue is no ricommend at their council
fires.”

“I dare say March’s tongue goes free enough when it gets on the subject of
Judith Hutter and her sister,” said the girl, rousing herself as if in
careless disdain. “Young women’s good names are a pleasant matter of
discourse with some that wouldn’t dare be so open-mouthed if there was a
brother in the way. Master March may find it pleasant to traduce us, but
sooner or later he’ll repent.

“Nay, Judith, this is taking the matter up too much in ‘arnest. Hurry has
never whispered a syllable ag’in the good name of Hetty, to begin with—”

“I see how it is—I see how it is,” impetuously interrupted Judith.
“I am the one he sees fit to scorch with his withering tongue! Hetty,
indeed! Poor Hetty!” she continued, her voice sinking into low, husky
tones, that seemed nearly to stifle her in the utterance; “she is beyond
and above his slanderous malice! Poor Hetty! If God has created her
feeble-minded, the weakness lies altogether on the side of errors of which
she seems to know nothing. The earth never held a purer being than Hetty
Hutter, Deerslayer.”

“I can believe it—yes, I can believe that, Judith, and I hope
‘arnestly that the same can be said of her handsome sister.”

There was a soothing sincerity in the voice of Deerslayer, which touched
the girl’s feelings; nor did the allusion to her beauty lessen the effect
with one who only knew too well the power of her personal charms.
Nevertheless, the still, small voice of conscience was not hushed, and it
prompted the answer which she made, after giving herself time to reflect.

“I dare say Hurry had some of his vile hints about the people of the
garrisons,” she added. “He knows they are gentlemen, and can never forgive
any one for being what he feels he can never become himself.”

“Not in the sense of a king’s officer, Judith, sartainly, for March has no
turn thataway; but in the sense of reality, why may not a beaver-hunter be
as respectable as a governor? Since you speak of it yourself, I’ll not
deny that he did complain of one as humble as you being so much in the
company of scarlet coats and silken sashes. But ‘t was jealousy that
brought it out of him, and I do think he mourned over his own thoughts as
a mother would have mourned over her child.”

Perhaps Deerslayer was not aware of the full meaning that his earnest
language conveyed. It is certain that he did not see the color that
crimsoned the whole of Judith’s fine face, nor detect the uncontrollable
distress that immediately after changed its hue to deadly paleness. A
minute or two elapsed in profound stillness, the splash of the water
seeming to occupy all the avenues of sound; and then Judith arose, and
grasped the hand of the hunter, almost convulsively, with one of her own.

“Deerslayer,” she said, hurriedly, “I’m glad the ice is broke between us.
They say that sudden friendships lead to long enmities, but I do not
believe it will turn out so with us. I know not how it is—but you
are the first man I ever met, who did not seem to wish to flatter—to
wish my ruin—to be an enemy in disguise—never mind; say
nothing to Hurry, and another time we’ll talk together again.”

As the girl released her grasp, she vanished in the house, leaving the
astonished young man standing at the steering-oar, as motionless as one of
the pines on the hills. So abstracted, indeed, had his thoughts become,
that he was hailed by Hutter to keep the scow’s head in the right
direction, before he remembered his actual situation.


Chapter VI.

Shortly after the disappearance of Judith, a light southerly air arose,
and Hutter set a large square sail, that had once been the flying top-sail
of an Albany sloop, but which having become threadbare in catching the
breezes of Tappan, had been condemned and sold. He had a light, tough spar
of tamarack that he could raise on occasion, and with a little
contrivance, his duck was spread to the wind in a sufficiently
professional manner. The effect on the ark was such as to supersede the
necessity of rowing; and in about two hours the castle was seen, in the
darkness, rising out of the water, at the distance of a hundred yards. The
sail was then lowered, and by slow degrees the scow drifted up to the
building, and was secured.

No one had visited the house since Hurry and his companion left it. The
place was found in the quiet of midnight, a sort of type of the solitude
of a wilderness. As an enemy was known to be near, Hutter directed his
daughters to abstain from the use of lights, luxuries in which they seldom
indulged during the warm months, lest they might prove beacons to direct
their foes where they might be found.

“In open daylight I shouldn’t fear a host of savages behind these stout
logs, and they without any cover to skulk into,” added Hutter, when he had
explained to his guests the reasons why he forbade the use of light; “for
I’ve three or four trusty weapons always loaded, and Killdeer, in
particular, is a piece that never misses. But it’s a different thing at
night. A canoe might get upon us unseen, in the dark; and the savages have
so many cunning ways of attacking, that I look upon it as bad enough to
deal with ’em under a bright sun. I built this dwelling in order to have
’em at arm’s length, in case we should ever get to blows again. Some
people think it’s too open and exposed, but I’m for anchoring out here,
clear of underbrush and thickets, as the surest means of making a safe
berth.”

“You was once a sailor, they tell me, old Tom?” said Hurry, in his abrupt
manner, struck by one or two expressions that the other had just used,
“and some people believe you could give us strange accounts of inimies and
shipwrecks, if you’d a mind to come out with all you know?”

“There are people in this world, Hurry,” returned the other, evasively,
“who live on other men’s thoughts; and some such often find their way into
the woods. What I’ve been, or what I’ve seen in youth, is of less matter
now than what the savages are. It’s of more account to find out what will
happen in the next twenty-four hours than to talk over what happened
twenty-four years since.”

“That’s judgment, Deerslayer; yes, that’s sound judgment. Here’s Judith
and Hetty to take care of, to say nothing of our own top-knots; and, for
my part, I can sleep as well in the dark as I could under a noonday sun.
To me it’s no great matter whether there is light or not, to see to shut
my eyes by.”

As Deerslayer seldom thought it necessary to answer his companion’s
peculiar vein of humor, and Hutter was evidently indisposed to dwell
longer on the subject, it’s discussion ceased with this remark. The latter
had something more on his mind, however, than recollections. His daughters
had no sooner left them, with an expressed intention of going to bed, than
he invited his two companions to follow him again into the scow. Here the
old man opened his project, keeping back the portion that he had reserved
for execution by Hurry and himself.

“The great object for people posted like ourselves is to command the
water,” he commenced. “So long as there is no other craft on the lake, a
bark canoe is as good as a man-of-war, since the castle will not be easily
taken by swimming. Now, there are but five canoes remaining in these
parts, two of which are mine, and one is Hurry’s. These three we have with
us here; one being fastened in the canoe-dock beneath the house, and the
other two being alongside the scow. The other canoes are housed on the
shore, in hollow logs, and the savages, who are such venomous enemies,
will leave no likely place unexamined in the morning, if they ‘re serious
in s’arch of bounties—”

“Now, friend Hutter,” interrupted Hurry, “the Indian don’t live that can
find a canoe that is suitably wintered. I’ve done something at this
business before now, and Deerslayer here knows that I am one that can hide
a craft in such a way that I can’t find it myself.”

“Very true, Hurry,” put in the person to whom the appeal had been made,
“but you overlook the sarcumstance that if you couldn’t see the trail of
the man who did the job, I could. I’m of Master Hutter’s mind, that it’s
far wiser to mistrust a savage’s ingenuity, than to build any great
expectations on his want of eye-sight. If these two canoes can be got off
to the castle, therefore, the sooner it’s done the better.”

“Will you be of the party that’s to do it?” demanded Hutter, in a way to
show that the proposal both surprised and pleased him.

“Sartain. I’m ready to enlist in any enterprise that’s not ag’in a white
man’s lawful gifts. Natur’ orders us to defend our lives, and the lives of
others, too, when there’s occasion and opportunity. I’ll follow you,
Floating Tom, into the Mingo camp, on such an arr’nd, and will strive to
do my duty, should we come to blows; though, never having been tried in
battle, I don’t like to promise more than I may be able to perform. We all
know our wishes, but none know their might till put to the proof.”

“That’s modest and suitable, lad,” exclaimed Hurry. “You’ve never yet
heard the crack of an angry rifle; and, let me tell you, ’tis as different
from the persuasion of one of your venison speeches, as the laugh of
Judith Hutter, in her best humor, is from the scolding of a Dutch house
keeper on the Mohawk. I don’t expect you’ll prove much of a warrior,
Deerslayer, though your equal with the bucks and the does don’t exist in
all these parts. As for the ra’al sarvice, however, you’ll turn out rather
rearward, according to my consait.”

“We’ll see, Hurry, we’ll see,” returned the other, meekly; so far as human
eye could discover, not at all disturbed by these expressed doubts
concerning his conduct on a point on which men are sensitive, precisely in
the degree that they feel the consciousness of demerit; “having never been
tried, I’ll wait to know, before I form any opinion of myself; and then
there’ll be sartainty, instead of bragging. I’ve heard of them that was
valiant afore the fight, who did little in it; and of them that waited to
know their own tempers, and found that they weren’t as bad as some
expected, when put to the proof.”

“At any rate, we know you can use a paddle, young man,” said Hutter, “and
that’s all we shall ask of you to-night. Let us waste no more time, but
get into the canoe, and do, in place of talking.”

As Hutter led the way, in the execution of his project, the boat was soon
ready, with Hurry and Deerslayer at the paddles. Before the old man
embarked himself, however, he held a conference of several minutes with
Judith, entering the house for that purpose; then, returning, he took his
place in the canoe, which left the side of the ark at the next instant.

Had there been a temple reared to God, in that solitary wilderness, its
clock would have told the hour of midnight as the party set forth on their
expedition. The darkness had increased, though the night was still clear,
and the light of the stars sufficed for all the purposes of the
adventurers. Hutter alone knew the places where the canoes were hid, and
he directed the course, while his two athletic companions raised and
dipped their paddles with proper caution, lest the sound should be carried
to the ears of their enemies, across that sheet of placid water, in the
stillness of deep night. But the bark was too light to require any
extraordinary efforts, and skill supplying the place of strength, in about
half an hour they were approaching the shore, at a point near a league
from the castle.

“Lay on your paddles, men,” said Hutter, in a low voice, “and let us look
about us for a moment. We must now be all eyes and ears, for these vermin
have noses like bloodhounds.”

The shores of the lake were examined closely, in order to discover any
glimmering of light that might have been left in a camp; and the men
strained their eyes, in the obscurity, to see if some thread of smoke was
not still stealing along the mountainside, as it arose from the dying
embers of a fire. Nothing unusual could be traced; and as the position was
at some distance from the outlet, or the spot where the savages had been
met, it was thought safe to land. The paddles were plied again, and the
bows of the canoe ground upon the gravelly beach with a gentle motion, and
a sound barely audible. Hutter and Hurry immediately landed, the former
carrying his own and his friend’s rifle, leaving Deerslayer in charge of
the canoe. The hollow log lay a little distance up the side of the
mountain, and the old man led the way towards it, using so much caution as
to stop at every third or fourth step, to listen if any tread betrayed the
presence of a foe. The same death-like stillness, however, reigned on the
midnight scene, and the desired place was reached without an occurrence to
induce alarm.

“This is it,” whispered Hutter, laying a foot on the trunk of a fallen
linden; “hand me the paddles first, and draw the boat out with care, for
the wretches may have left it for a bait, after all.”

“Keep my rifle handy, butt towards me, old fellow,” answered March. “If
they attack me loaded, I shall want to unload the piece at ’em, at least.
And feel if the pan is full.”

“All’s right,” muttered the other; “move slow, when you get your load, and
let me lead the way.”

The canoe was drawn out of the log with the utmost care, raised by Hurry
to his shoulder, and the two began to return to the shore, moving but a
step at a time, lest they should tumble down the steep declivity. The
distance was not great, but the descent was extremely difficult; and,
towards the end of their little journey, Deerslayer was obliged to land
and meet them, in order to aid in lifting the canoe through the bushes.
With his assistance the task was successfully accomplished, and the light
craft soon floated by the side of the other canoe. This was no sooner
done, than all three turned anxiously towards the forest and the mountain,
expecting an enemy to break out of the one, or to come rushing down the
other. Still the silence was unbroken, and they all embarked with the
caution that had been used in coming ashore.

Hutter now steered broad off towards the centre of the lake. Having got a
sufficient distance from the shore, he cast his prize loose, knowing that
it would drift slowly up the lake before the light southerly air, and
intending to find it on his return. Thus relieved of his tow, the old man
held his way down the lake, steering towards the very point where Hurry
had made his fruitless attempt on the life of the deer. As the distance
from this point to the outlet was less than a mile, it was like entering
an enemy’s country; and redoubled caution became necessary. They reached
the extremity of the point, however, and landed in safety on the little
gravelly beach already mentioned. Unlike the last place at which they had
gone ashore, here was no acclivity to ascend, the mountains looming up in
the darkness quite a quarter of a mile farther west, leaving a margin of
level ground between them and the strand. The point itself, though long,
and covered with tall trees, was nearly flat, and for some distance only a
few yards in width. Hutter and Hurry landed as before, leaving their
companion in charge of the boat.

In this instance, the dead tree that contained the canoe of which they had
come in quest lay about half-way between the extremity of the narrow slip
of land and the place where it joined the main shore; and knowing that
there was water so near him on his left, the old man led the way along the
eastern side of the belt with some confidence walking boldly, though still
with caution. He had landed at the point expressly to get a glimpse into
the bay and to make certain that the coast was clear; otherwise he would
have come ashore directly abreast of the hollow tree. There was no
difficulty in finding the latter, from which the canoe was drawn as
before, and instead of carrying it down to the place where Deerslayer lay,
it was launched at the nearest favorable spot. As soon as it was in the
water, Hurry entered it, and paddled round to the point, whither Hutter
also proceeded, following the beach. As the three men had now in their
possession all the boats on the lake, their confidence was greatly
increased, and there was no longer the same feverish desire to quit the
shore, or the same necessity for extreme caution. Their position on the
extremity of the long, narrow bit of land added to the feeling of
security, as it permitted an enemy to approach in only one direction, that
in their front, and under circumstances that would render discovery, with
their habitual vigilance, almost certain. The three now landed together,
and stood grouped in consultation on the gravelly point.

“We’ve fairly tree’d the scamps,” said Hurry, chuckling at their success;
“if they wish to visit the castle, let ’em wade or swim! Old Tom, that
idee of your’n, in burrowing out in the lake, was high proof, and carries
a fine bead. There be men who would think the land safer than the water;
but, after all, reason shows it isn’t; the beaver, and rats, and other
l’arned creatur’s taking to the last when hard pressed. I call our
position now, entrenched, and set the Canadas at defiance.”

“Let us paddle along this south shore,” said Hutter, “and see if there’s
no sign of an encampment; but, first, let me have a better look into the
bay, for no one has been far enough round the inner shore of the point to
make suit of that quarter yet.”

As Hutter ceased speaking, all three moved in the direction he had named.
Scarce had they fairly opened the bottom of the bay, when a general start
proved that their eyes had lighted on a common object at the same instant.
It was no more than a dying brand, giving out its flickering and failing
light; but at that hour, and in that place, it was at once as conspicuous
as “a good deed in a naughty world.” There was not a shadow of doubt that
this fire had been kindled at an encampment of the Indians. The situation,
sheltered from observation on all sides but one, and even on that except
for a very short distance, proved that more care had been taken to conceal
the spot than would be used for ordinary purposes, and Hutter, who knew
that a spring was near at hand, as well as one of the best
fishing-stations on the lake, immediately inferred that this encampment
contained the women and children of the party.

“That’s not a warrior’s encampment,” he growled to Hurry; “and there’s
bounty enough sleeping round that fire to make a heavy division of
head-money. Send the lad to the canoes, for there’ll come no good of him
in such an onset, and let us take the matter in hand at once, like men.”

“There’s judgment in your notion, old Tom, and I like it to the backbone.
Deerslayer, do you get into the canoe, lad, and paddle off into the lake
with the spare one, and set it adrift, as we did with the other; after
which you can float along shore, as near as you can get to the head of the
bay, keeping outside the point, howsever, and outside the rushes, too. You
can hear us when we want you; and if there’s any delay, I’ll call like a
loon—yes, that’ll do it—the call of a loon shall be the
signal. If you hear rifles, and feel like sogering, why, you may close in,
and see if you can make the same hand with the savages that you do with
the deer.”

“If my wishes could be followed, this matter would not be undertaken,
Hurry——”

“Quite true—nobody denies it, boy; but your wishes can’t be
followed; and that inds the matter. So just canoe yourself off into the
middle of the lake, and by the time you get back there’ll be movements in
that camp!”

The young man set about complying with great reluctance and a heavy heart.
He knew the prejudices of the frontiermen too well, however, to attempt a
remonstrance. The latter, indeed, under the circumstances, might prove
dangerous, as it would certainly prove useless. He paddled the canoe,
therefore, silently and with the former caution, to a spot near the centre
of the placid sheet of water, and set the boat just recovered adrift, to
float towards the castle, before the light southerly air. This expedient
had been adopted, in both cases, under the certainty that the drift could
not carry the light barks more than a league or two, before the return of
light, when they might easily be overtaken in order to prevent any
wandering savage from using them, by swimming off and getting possession,
a possible but scarcely a probable event, all the paddles were retained.

No sooner had he set the recovered canoe adrift, than Deerslayer turned
the bows of his own towards the point on the shore that had been indicated
by Hurry. So light was the movement of the little craft, and so steady the
sweep of its master’s arm, that ten minutes had not elapsed ere it was
again approaching the land, having, in that brief time, passed over fully
half a mile of distance. As soon as Deerslayer’s eye caught a glimpse of
the rushes, of which there were many growing in the water a hundred feet
from the shore, he arrested the motion of the canoe, and anchored his boat
by holding fast to the delicate but tenacious stem of one of the drooping
plants. Here he remained, awaiting, with an intensity of suspense that can
be easily imagined, the result of the hazardous enterprise.

It would be difficult to convey to the minds of those who have never
witnessed it, the sublimity that characterizes the silence of a solitude
as deep as that which now reigned over the Glimmerglass. In the present
instance, this sublimity was increased by the gloom of night, which threw
its shadowy and fantastic forms around the lake, the forest, and the
hills. It is not easy, indeed, to conceive of any place more favorable to
heighten these natural impressions, than that Deerslayer now occupied. The
size of the lake brought all within the reach of human senses, while it
displayed so much of the imposing scene at a single view, giving up, as it
might be, at a glance, a sufficiency to produce the deepest impressions.
As has been said, this was the first lake Deerslayer had ever seen.
Hitherto, his experience had been limited to the courses of rivers and
smaller streams, and never before had he seen so much of that wilderness,
which he so well loved, spread before his gaze. Accustomed to the forest,
however, his mind was capable of portraying all its hidden mysteries, as
he looked upon its leafy surface. This was also the first time he had been
on a trail where human lives depended on the issue. His ears had often
drunk in the traditions of frontier warfare, but he had never yet been
confronted with an enemy.

The reader will readily understand, therefore, how intense must have been
the expectation of the young man, as he sat in his solitary canoe,
endeavoring to catch the smallest sound that might denote the course of
things on shore. His training had been perfect, so far as theory could go,
and his self-possession, notwithstanding the high excitement, that was the
fruit of novelty, would have done credit to a veteran. The visible
evidences of the existence of the camp, or of the fire could not be
detected from the spot where the canoe lay, and he was compelled to depend
on the sense of hearing alone. He did not feel impatient, for the lessons
he had heard taught him the virtue of patience, and, most of all,
inculcated the necessity of wariness in conducting any covert assault on
the Indians. Once he thought he heard the cracking of a dried twig, but
expectation was so intense it might mislead him. In this manner minute
after minute passed, until the whole time since he left his companions was
extended to quite an hour. Deerslayer knew not whether to rejoice in or to
mourn over this cautious delay, for, if it augured security to his
associates, it foretold destruction to the feeble and innocent.

It might have been an hour and a half after his companions and he had
parted, when Deerslayer was aroused by a sound that filled him equally
with concern and surprise. The quavering call of a loon arose from the
opposite side of the lake, evidently at no great distance from its outlet.
There was no mistaking the note of this bird, which is so familiar to all
who know the sounds of the American lakes. Shrill, tremulous, loud, and
sufficiently prolonged, it seems the very cry of warning. It is often
raised, also, at night, an exception to the habits of most of the other
feathered inmates of the wilderness; a circumstance which had induced
Hurry to select it as his own signal. There had been sufficient time,
certainly, for the two adventurers to make their way by land from the
point where they had been left to that whence the call had come, but it
was not probable that they would adopt such a course. Had the camp been
deserted they would have summoned Deerslayer to the shore, and, did it
prove to be peopled, there could be no sufficient motive for circling it,
in order to re-embark at so great a distance. Should he obey the signal,
and be drawn away from the landing, the lives of those who depended on him
might be the forfeit—and, should he neglect the call, on the
supposition that it had been really made, the consequences might be
equally disastrous, though from a different cause. In this indecision he
waited, trusting that the call, whether feigned or natural, would be
speedily renewed. Nor was he mistaken. A very few minutes elapsed before
the same shrill warning cry was repeated, and from the same part of the
lake. This time, being on the alert, his senses were not deceived.
Although he had often heard admirable imitations of this bird, and was no
mean adept himself in raising its notes, he felt satisfied that Hurry, to
whose efforts in that way he had attended, could never so completely and
closely follow nature. He determined, therefore, to disregard that cry,
and to wait for one less perfect and nearer at hand.

Deerslayer had hardly come to this determination, when the profound
stillness of night and solitude was broken by a cry so startling, as to
drive all recollection of the more melancholy call of the loon from the
listener’s mind. It was a shriek of agony, that came either from one of
the female sex, or from a boy so young as not yet to have attained a manly
voice. This appeal could not be mistaken. Heart rending terror—if
not writhing agony—was in the sounds, and the anguish that had
awakened them was as sudden as it was fearful. The young man released his
hold of the rush, and dashed his paddle into the water; to do, he knew not
what—to steer, he knew not whither. A very few moments, however,
removed his indecision. The breaking of branches, the cracking of dried
sticks, and the fall of feet were distinctly audible; the sounds appearing
to approach the water though in a direction that led diagonally towards
the shore, and a little farther north than the spot that Deerslayer had
been ordered to keep near. Following this clue, the young man urged the
canoe ahead, paying but little attention to the manner in which he might
betray its presence. He had reached a part of the shore, where its
immediate bank was tolerably high and quite steep. Men were evidently
threshing through the bushes and trees on the summit of this bank,
following the line of the shore, as if those who fled sought a favorable
place for descending. Just at this instant five or six rifles flashed, and
the opposite hills gave back, as usual, the sharp reports in prolonged
rolling echoes. One or two shrieks, like those which escape the bravest
when suddenly overcome by unexpected anguish and alarm, followed; and then
the threshing among the bushes was renewed, in a way to show that man was
grappling with man.

“Slippery devil!” shouted Hurry with the fury of disappointment—“his
skin’s greased! I sha’n’t grapple! Take that for your cunning!”

The words were followed by the fall of some heavy object among the smaller
trees that fringed the bank, appearing to Deerslayer as if his gigantic
associate had hurled an enemy from him in this unceremonious manner. Again
the flight and pursuit were renewed, and then the young man saw a human
form break down the hill, and rush several yards into the water. At this
critical moment the canoe was just near enough to the spot to allow this
movement, which was accompanied by no little noise, to be seen, and
feeling that there he must take in his companion, if anywhere, Deerslayer
urged the canoe forward to the rescue. His paddle had not been raised
twice, when the voice of Hurry was heard filling the air with
imprecations, and he rolled on the narrow beach, literally loaded down
with enemies. While prostrate, and almost smothered with his foes, the
athletic frontierman gave his loon-call, in a manner that would have
excited laughter under circumstances less terrific. The figure in the
water seemed suddenly to repent his own flight, and rushed to the shore to
aid his companion, but was met and immediately overpowered by half a dozen
fresh pursuers, who, just then, came leaping down the bank.

“Let up, you painted riptyles—let up!” cried Hurry, too hard pressed
to be particular about the terms he used; “isn’t it enough that I am
withed like a saw-log that ye must choke too!”

This speech satisfied Deerslayer that his friends were prisoners, and that
to land would be to share their fate. He was already within a hundred feet
of the shore, when a few timely strokes of the paddle not only arrested
his advance, but forced him off to six or eight times that distance from
his enemies. Luckily for him, all of the Indians had dropped their rifles
in the pursuit, or this retreat might not have been effected with
impunity; though no one had noted the canoe in the first confusion of the
melee.

“Keep off the land, lad,” called out Hutter; “the girls depend only on
you, now; you will want all your caution to escape these savages. Keep
off, and God prosper you, as you aid my children!”

There was little sympathy in general between Hutter and the young man, but
the bodily and mental anguish with which this appeal was made served at
the moment to conceal from the latter the former’s faults. He saw only the
father in his sufferings, and resolved at once to give a pledge of
fidelity to its interests, and to be faithful to his word.

“Put your heart at ease, Master Hutter,” he called out; “the gals shall be
looked to, as well as the castle. The inimy has got the shore, ’tis no use
to deny, but he hasn’t got the water. Providence has the charge of all,
and no one can say what will come of it; but, if good-will can sarve you
and your’n, depend on that much. My exper’ence is small, but my will is
good.”

“Ay, ay, Deerslayer,” returned Hurry, in this stentorian voice, which was
losing some of its heartiness, notwithstanding,—“Ay, ay, Deerslayer.
You mean well enough, but what can you do? You’re no great matter in the
best of times, and such a person is not likely to turn out a miracle in
the worst. If there’s one savage on this lake shore, there’s forty, and
that’s an army you ar’n’t the man to overcome. The best way, in my
judgment, will be to make a straight course to the castle; get the gals
into the canoe, with a few eatables; then strike off for the corner of the
lake where we came in, and take the best trail for the Mohawk. These
devils won’t know where to look for you for some hours, and if they did,
and went off hot in the pursuit, they must turn either the foot or the
head of the lake to get at you. That’s my judgment in the matter; and if
old Tom here wishes to make his last will and testament in a manner
favorable to his darters, he’ll say the same.”

“’Twill never do, young man,” rejoined Hutter. “The enemy has scouts out
at this moment, looking for canoes, and you’ll be seen and taken. Trust to
the castle; and above all things, keep clear of the land. Hold out a week,
and parties from the garrisons will drive the savages off.”

“’Twon’t be four-and-twenty hours, old fellow, afore these foxes will be
rafting off to storm your castle,” interrupted Hurry, with more of the
heat of argument than might be expected from a man who was bound and a
captive, and about whom nothing could be called free but his opinions and
his tongue. “Your advice has a stout sound, but it will have a fatal
tarmination. If you or I was in the house, we might hold out a few days,
but remember that this lad has never seen an inimy afore to-night, and is
what you yourself called settlement-conscienced; though for my part, I
think the consciences in the settlements pretty much the same as they are
out here in the woods. These savages are making signs, Deerslayer, for me
to encourage you to come ashore with the canoe; but that I’ll never do, as
it’s ag’in reason and natur’. As for old Tom and myself, whether they’ll
scalp us to-night, keep us for the torture by fire, or carry us to Canada,
is more than any one knows but the devil that advises them how to act.
I’ve such a big and bushy head that it’s quite likely they’ll indivor to
get two scalps off it, for the bounty is a tempting thing, or old Tom and
I wouldn’t be in this scrape. Ay—there they go with their signs
ag’in, but if I advise you to land may they eat me as well as roast me.
No, no, Deerslayer—do you keep off where you are, and after
daylight, on no account come within two hundred yards—”

This injunction of Hurry’s was stopped by a hand being rudely slapped
against his mouth, the certain sign that some one in the party
sufficiently understood English to have at length detected the drift of
his discourse. Immediately after, the whole group entered the forest,
Hutter and Hurry apparently making no resistance to the movement. Just as
the sounds of the cracking bushes were ceasing, however, the voice of the
father was again heard.

“As you’re true to my children, God prosper you, young man!” were the
words that reached Deerslayer’s ears; after which he found himself left to
follow the dictates of his own discretion.

Several minutes elapsed, in death-like stillness, when the party on the
shore had disappeared in the woods. Owing to the distance—rather
more than two hundred yards—and the obscurity, Deerslayer had been
able barely to distinguish the group, and to see it retiring; but even
this dim connection with human forms gave an animation to the scene that
was strongly in contrast to the absolute solitude that remained. Although
the young man leaned forward to listen, holding his breath and condensing
every faculty in the single sense of hearing, not another sound reached
his ears to denote the vicinity of human beings. It seemed as if a silence
that had never been broken reigned on the spot again; and, for an instant,
even that piercing shriek, which had so lately broken the stillness of the
forest, or the execrations of March, would have been a relief to the
feeling of desertion to which it gave rise.

This paralysis of mind and body, however, could not last long in one
constituted mentally and physically like Deerslayer. Dropping his paddle
into the water, he turned the head of the canoe, and proceeded slowly, as
one walks who thinks intently, towards the centre of the lake. When he
believed himself to have reached a point in a line with that where he had
set the last canoe adrift, he changed his direction northward, keeping the
light air as nearly on his back as possible. After paddling a quarter of a
mile in this direction, a dark object became visible on the lake, a little
to the right; and turning on one side for the purpose, he had soon secured
his lost prize to his own boat. Deerslayer now examined the heavens, the
course of the air, and the position of the two canoes. Finding nothing in
either to induce a change of plan, he lay down, and prepared to catch a
few hours’ sleep, that the morrow might find him equal to its exigencies.

Although the hardy and the tired sleep profoundly, even in scenes of
danger, it was some time before Deerslayer lost his recollection. His mind
dwelt on what had passed, and his half-conscious faculties kept figuring
the events of the night, in a sort of waking dream. Suddenly he was up and
alert, for he fancied he heard the preconcerted signal of Hurry summoning
him to the shore. But all was still as the grave again. The canoes were
slowly drifting northward, the thoughtful stars were glimmering in their
mild glory over his head, and the forest-bound sheet of water lay embedded
between its mountains, as calm and melancholy as if never troubled by the
winds, or brightened by a noonday sun. Once more the loon raised his
tremulous cry, near the foot of the lake, and the mystery of the alarm was
explained. Deerslayer adjusted his hard pillow, stretched his form in the
bottom of the canoe, and slept.


Chapter VII.

Day had fairly dawned before the young man, whom we have left in the
situation described in the last chapter, again opened his eyes. This was
no sooner done, than he started up, and looked about him with the
eagerness of one who suddenly felt the importance of accurately
ascertaining his precise position. His rest had been deep and undisturbed;
and when he awoke, it was with a clearness of intellect and a readiness of
resources that were very much needed at that particular moment. The sun
had not risen, it is true, but the vault of heaven was rich with the
winning softness that “brings and shuts the day,” while the whole air was
filled with the carols of birds, the hymns of the feathered tribe. These
sounds first told Deerslayer the risks he ran. The air, for wind it could
scarce be called, was still light, it is true, but it had increased a
little in the course of the night, and as the canoes were feathers on the
water, they had drifted twice the expected distance; and, what was still
more dangerous, had approached so near the base of the mountain that here
rose precipitously from the eastern shore, as to render the carols of the
birds plainly audible. This was not the worst. The third canoe had taken
the same direction, and was slowly drifting towards a point where it must
inevitably touch, unless turned aside by a shift of wind, or human hands.
In other respects, nothing presented itself to attract attention, or to
awaken alarm. The castle stood on its shoal, nearly abreast of the canoes,
for the drift had amounted to miles in the course of the night, and the
ark lay fastened to its piles, as both had been left so many hours before.

As a matter of course, Deerslayer’s attention was first given to the canoe
ahead. It was already quite near the point, and a very few strokes of the
paddle sufficed to tell him that it must touch before he could possibly
overtake it. Just at this moment, too, the wind inopportunely freshened,
rendering the drift of the light craft much more rapid than certain.
Feeling the impossibility of preventing a contact with the land, the young
man wisely determined not to heat himself with unnecessary exertions; but
first looking to the priming of his piece, he proceeded slowly and warily
towards the point, taking care to make a little circuit, that he might be
exposed on only one side, as he approached.

The canoe adrift being directed by no such intelligence, pursued its
proper way, and grounded on a small sunken rock, at the distance of three
or four yards from the shore. Just at that moment, Deerslayer had got
abreast of the point, and turned the bows of his own boat to the land;
first casting loose his tow, that his movements might be unencumbered. The
canoe hung an instant to the rock; then it rose a hair’s breadth on an
almost imperceptible swell of the water, swung round, floated clear, and
reached the strand. All this the young man noted, but it neither quickened
his pulses, nor hastened his hand. If any one had been lying in wait for
the arrival of the waif, he must be seen, and the utmost caution in
approaching the shore became indispensable; if no one was in ambush, hurry
was unnecessary. The point being nearly diagonally opposite to the Indian
encampment, he hoped the last, though the former was not only possible,
but probable; for the savages were prompt in adopting all the expedients
of their particular modes of warfare, and quite likely had many scouts
searching the shores for craft to carry them off to the castle. As a
glance at the lake from any height or projection would expose the smallest
object on its surface, there was little hope that either of the canoes
would pass unseen; and Indian sagacity needed no instruction to tell which
way a boat or a log would drift, when the direction of the wind was known.
As Deerslayer drew nearer and nearer to the land, the stroke of his paddle
grew slower, his eye became more watchful, and his ears and nostrils
almost dilated with the effort to detect any lurking danger. It was a
trying moment for a novice, nor was there the encouragement which even the
timid sometimes feel, when conscious of being observed and commended. He
was entirely alone, thrown on his own resources, and was cheered by no
friendly eye, emboldened by no encouraging voice. Notwithstanding all
these circumstances, the most experienced veteran in forest warfare could
not have behaved better. Equally free from recklessness and hesitation,
his advance was marked by a sort of philosophical prudence that appeared
to render him superior to all motives but those which were best calculated
to effect his purpose. Such was the commencement of a career in forest
exploits, that afterwards rendered this man, in his way, and under the
limits of his habits and opportunities, as renowned as many a hero whose
name has adorned the pages of works more celebrated than legends simple as
ours can ever become.

When about a hundred yards from the shore, Deerslayer rose in the canoe,
gave three or four vigorous strokes with the paddle, sufficient of
themselves to impel the bark to land, and then quickly laying aside the
instrument of labor, he seized that of war. He was in the very act of
raising the rifle, when a sharp report was followed by the buzz of a
bullet that passed so near his body as to cause him involuntarily to
start. The next instant Deerslayer staggered, and fell his whole length in
the bottom of the canoe. A yell—it came from a single voice—followed,
and an Indian leaped from the bushes upon the open area of the point,
bounding towards the canoe. This was the moment the young man desired. He
rose on the instant, and levelled his own rifle at his uncovered foe; but
his finger hesitated about pulling the trigger on one whom he held at such
a disadvantage. This little delay, probably, saved the life of the Indian,
who bounded back into the cover as swiftly as he had broken out of it. In
the meantime Deerslayer had been swiftly approaching the land, and his own
canoe reached the point just as his enemy disappeared. As its movements
had not been directed, it touched the shore a few yards from the other
boat; and though the rifle of his foe had to be loaded, there was not time
to secure his prize, and carry it beyond danger, before he would be
exposed to another shot. Under the circumstances, therefore, he did not
pause an instant, but dashed into the woods and sought a cover.

On the immediate point there was a small open area, partly in native
grass, and partly beach, but a dense fringe of bushes lined its upper
side. This narrow belt of dwarf vegetation passed, one issued immediately
into the high and gloomy vaults of the forest. The land was tolerably
level for a few hundred feet, and then it rose precipitously in a
mountainside. The trees were tall, large, and so free from underbrush,
that they resembled vast columns, irregularly scattered, upholding a dome
of leaves. Although they stood tolerably close together, for their ages
and size, the eye could penetrate to considerable distances; and bodies of
men, even, might have engaged beneath their cover, with concert and
intelligence.

Deerslayer knew that his adversary must be employed in reloading, unless
he had fled. The former proved to be the case, for the young man had no
sooner placed himself behind a tree, than he caught a glimpse of the arm
of the Indian, his body being concealed by an oak, in the very act of
forcing the leathered bullet home. Nothing would have been easier than to
spring forward, and decide the affair by a close assault on his unprepared
foe; but every feeling of Deerslayer revolted at such a step, although his
own life had just been attempted from a cover. He was yet unpracticed in
the ruthless expedients of savage warfare, of which he knew nothing except
by tradition and theory, and it struck him as unfair advantage to assail
an unarmed foe. His color had heightened, his eye frowned, his lips were
compressed, and all his energies were collected and ready; but, instead of
advancing to fire, he dropped his rifle to the usual position of a
sportsman in readiness to catch his aim, and muttered to himself,
unconscious that he was speaking—

“No, no—that may be red-skin warfare, but it’s not a Christian’s
gifts. Let the miscreant charge, and then we’ll take it out like men; for
the canoe he must not, and shall not have. No, no; let him have time to
load, and God will take care of the right!”

All this time the Indian had been so intent on his own movements, that he
was even ignorant that his enemy was in the woods. His only apprehension
was, that the canoe would be recovered and carried away before he might be
in readiness to prevent it. He had sought the cover from habit, but was
within a few feet of the fringe of bushes, and could be at the margin of
the forest in readiness to fire in a moment. The distance between him and
his enemy was about fifty yards, and the trees were so arranged by nature
that the line of sight was not interrupted, except by the particular trees
behind which each party stood.

His rifle was no sooner loaded, than the savage glanced around him, and
advanced incautiously as regarded the real, but stealthily as respected
the fancied position of his enemy, until he was fairly exposed. Then
Deerslayer stepped from behind its own cover, and hailed him.

“This-a-way, red-skin; this-a-way, if you’re looking for me,” he called
out. “I’m young in war, but not so young as to stand on an open beach to
be shot down like an owl, by daylight. It rests on yourself whether it’s
peace or war atween us; for my gifts are white gifts, and I’m not one of
them that thinks it valiant to slay human mortals, singly, in the woods.”

The savage was a good deal startled by this sudden discovery of the danger
he ran. He had a little knowledge of English, however, and caught the
drift of the other’s meaning. He was also too well schooled to betray
alarm, but, dropping the butt of his rifle to the earth, with an air of
confidence, he made a gesture of lofty courtesy. All this was done with
the ease and self-possession of one accustomed to consider no man his
superior. In the midst of this consummate acting, however, the volcano
that raged within caused his eyes to glare, and his nostrils to dilate,
like those of some wild beast that is suddenly prevented from taking the
fatal leap.

“Two canoes,” he said, in the deep guttural tones of his race, holding up
the number of fingers he mentioned, by way of preventing mistakes; “one
for you—one for me.”

“No, no, Mingo, that will never do. You own neither; and neither shall you
have, as long as I can prevent it. I know it’s war atween your people and
mine, but that’s no reason why human mortals should slay each other, like
savage creatur’s that meet in the woods; go your way, then, and leave me
to go mine. The world is large enough for us both; and when we meet fairly
in battle, why, the Lord will order the fate of each of us.”

“Good!” exclaimed the Indian; “my brother missionary—great talk; all
about Manitou.”

“Not so—not so, warrior. I’m not good enough for the Moravians, and
am too good for most of the other vagabonds that preach about in the
woods. No, no; I’m only a hunter, as yet, though afore the peace is made,
’tis like enough there’ll be occasion to strike a blow at some of your
people. Still, I wish it to be done in fair fight, and not in a quarrel
about the ownership of a miserable canoe.”

“Good! My brother very young—but he is very wise. Little warrior—great
talker. Chief, sometimes, in council.”

“I don’t know this, nor do I say it, Injin,” returned Deerslayer, coloring
a little at the ill-concealed sarcasm of the other’s manner; “I look
forward to a life in the woods, and I only hope it may be a peaceable one.
All young men must go on the war-path, when there’s occasion, but war
isn’t needfully massacre. I’ve seen enough of the last, this very night,
to know that Providence frowns on it; and I now invite you to go your own
way, while I go mine; and hope that we may part fri’nds.”

“Good! My brother has two scalp—gray hair under ‘other. Old wisdom—young
tongue.”

Here the savage advanced with confidence, his hand extended, his face
smiling, and his whole bearing denoting amity and respect. Deerslayer met
his offered friendship in a proper spirit, and they shook hands cordially,
each endeavoring to assure the other of his sincerity and desire to be at
peace.

“All have his own,” said the Indian; “my canoe, mine; your canoe, your’n.
Go look; if your’n, you keep; if mine, I keep.”

“That’s just, red-skin; thought you must be wrong in thinking the canoe
your property. Howsever, seein’ is believin’, and we’ll go down to the
shore, where you may look with your own eyes; for it’s likely you’ll
object to trustin’ altogether to mine.”

The Indian uttered his favorite exclamation of “Good!” and then they
walked side by side, towards the shore. There was no apparent distrust in
the manner of either, the Indian moving in advance, as if he wished to
show his companion that he did not fear turning his back to him. As they
reached the open ground, the former pointed towards Deerslayer’s boat, and
said emphatically—“No mine—pale-face canoe. This red man’s. No
want other man’s canoe—want his own.”

“You’re wrong, red-skin, you’re altogether wrong. This canoe was left in
old Hutter’s keeping, and is his’n according to law, red or white, till
its owner comes to claim it. Here’s the seats and the stitching of the
bark to speak for themselves. No man ever know’d an Injin to turn off such
work.”

“Good! My brother little old—big wisdom. Injin no make him. White
man’s work.”

“I’m glad you think so, for holding out to the contrary might have made
ill blood atween us, every one having a right to take possession of his
own. I’ll just shove the canoe out of reach of dispute at once, as the
quickest way of settling difficulties.”

While Deerslayer was speaking, he put a foot against the end of the light
boat, and giving a vigorous shove, he sent it out into the lake a hundred
feet or more, where, taking the true current, it would necessarily float
past the point, and be in no further danger of coming ashore. The savage
started at this ready and decided expedient, and his companion saw that he
cast a hurried and fierce glance at his own canoe, or that which contained
the paddles. The change of manner, however, was but momentary, and then
the Iroquois resumed his air of friendliness, and a smile of satisfaction.

“Good!” he repeated, with stronger emphasis than ever. “Young head, old
mind. Know how to settle quarrel. Farewell, brother. He go to house in
water—muskrat house—Injin go to camp; tell chiefs no find
canoe.”

Deerslayer was not sorry to hear this proposal, for he felt anxious to
join the females, and he took the offered hand of the Indian very
willingly. The parting words were friendly, and while the red man walked
calmly towards the wood, with the rifle in the hollow of his arm, without
once looking back in uneasiness or distrust, the white man moved towards
the remaining canoe, carrying his piece in the same pacific manner, it is
true, but keeping his eye fastened on the movements of the other. This
distrust, however, seemed to be altogether uncalled for, and as if ashamed
to have entertained it, the young man averted his look, and stepped
carelessly up to his boat. Here he began to push the canoe from the shore,
and to make his other preparations for departing. He might have been thus
employed a minute, when, happening to turn his face towards the land, his
quick and certain eye told him, at a glance, the imminent jeopardy in
which his life was placed. The black, ferocious eyes of the savage were
glancing on him, like those of the crouching tiger, through a small
opening in the bushes, and the muzzle of his rifle seemed already to be
opening in a line with his own body.

Then, indeed, the long practice of Deerslayer, as a hunter did him good
service. Accustomed to fire with the deer on the bound, and often when the
precise position of the animal’s body had in a manner to be guessed at, he
used the same expedients here. To cock and poise his rifle were the acts
of a single moment and a single motion: then aiming almost without
sighting, he fired into the bushes where he knew a body ought to be, in
order to sustain the appalling countenance which alone was visible. There
was not time to raise the piece any higher, or to take a more deliberate
aim. So rapid were his movements that both parties discharged their pieces
at the same instant, the concussions mingling in one report. The
mountains, indeed, gave back but a single echo. Deerslayer dropped his
piece, and stood with head erect, steady as one of the pines in the calm
of a June morning, watching the result; while the savage gave the yell
that has become historical for its appalling influence, leaped through the
bushes, and came bounding across the open ground, flourishing a tomahawk.
Still Deerslayer moved not, but stood with his unloaded rifle fallen
against his shoulders, while, with a hunter’s habits, his hands were
mechanically feeling for the powder-horn and charger. When about forty
feet from his enemy, the savage hurled his keen weapon; but it was with an
eye so vacant, and a hand so unsteady and feeble, that the young man
caught it by the handle as it was flying past him. At that instant the
Indian staggered and fell his whole length on the ground.

“I know’d it—I know’d it!” exclaimed Deerslayer, who was already
preparing to force a fresh bullet into his rifle; “I know’d it must come
to this, as soon as I had got the range from the creatur’s eyes. A man
sights suddenly, and fires quick when his own life’s in danger; yes, I
know’d it would come to this. I was about the hundredth part of a second
too quick for him, or it might have been bad for me! The riptyle’s bullet
has just grazed my side—but say what you will for or ag’in ’em, a
red-skin is by no means as sartain with powder and ball as a white man.
Their gifts don’t seem to lie that a way. Even Chingachgook, great as he
is in other matters, isn’t downright deadly with the rifle.”

By this time the piece was reloaded, and Deerslayer, after tossing the
tomahawk into the canoe, advanced to his victim, and stood over him,
leaning on his rifle, in melancholy attention. It was the first instance
in which he had seen a man fall in battle—it was the first
fellow-creature against whom he had ever seriously raised his own hand.
The sensations were novel; and regret, with the freshness of our better
feelings, mingled with his triumph. The Indian was not dead, though shot
directly through the body. He lay on his back motionless, but his eyes,
now full of consciousness, watched each action of his victor—as the
fallen bird regards the fowler—jealous of every movement. The man
probably expected the fatal blow which was to precede the loss of his
scalp; or perhaps he anticipated that this latter act of cruelty would
precede his death. Deerslayer read his thoughts; and he found a melancholy
satisfaction in relieving the apprehensions of the helpless savage.

“No, no, red-skin,” he said; “you’ve nothing more to fear from me. I am of
a Christian stock, and scalping is not of my gifts. I’ll just make sartain
of your rifle, and then come back and do you what sarvice I can. Though
here I can’t stay much longer, as the crack of three rifles will be apt to
bring some of your devils down upon me.”

The close of this was said in a sort of a soliloquy, as the young man went
in quest of the fallen rifle. The piece was found where its owner had
dropped it, and was immediately put into the canoe. Laying his own rifle
at its side, Deerslayer then returned and stood over the Indian again.

“All inmity atween you and me’s at an ind red-skin,” he said; “and you may
set your heart at rest on the score of the scalp, or any further injury.
My gifts are white, as I’ve told you; and I hope my conduct will be white
also.”

Could looks have conveyed all they meant, it is probable Deerslayer’s
innocent vanity on the subject of color would have been rebuked a little;
but he comprehended the gratitude that was expressed in the eyes of the
dying savage, without in the least detecting the bitter sarcasm that
struggled with the better feeling.

“Water!” ejaculated the thirsty and unfortunate creature; “give poor Injin
water.”

“Ay, water you shall have, if you drink the lake dry. I’ll just carry you
down to it that you may take your fill. This is the way, they tell me,
with all wounded people—water is their greatest comfort and
delight.”

So saying, Deerslayer raised the Indian in his arms, and carried him to
the lake. Here he first helped him to take an attitude in which he could
appease his burning thirst; after which he seated himself on a stone, and
took the head of his wounded adversary in his own lap, and endeavored to
soothe his anguish in the best manner he could.

“It would be sinful in me to tell you your time hadn’t come, warrior,” he
commenced, “and therefore I’ll not say it. You’ve passed the middle age
already, and, considerin’ the sort of lives ye lead, your days have been
pretty well filled. The principal thing now, is to look forward to what
comes next. Neither red-skin nor pale-face, on the whole, calculates much
on sleepin’ forever; but both expect to live in another world. Each has
his gifts, and will be judged by ’em, and I suppose you’ve thought these
matters over enough not to stand in need of sarmons when the trial comes.
You’ll find your happy hunting-grounds, if you’ve been a just Injin; if an
onjust, you’ll meet your desarts in another way. I’ve my own idees about
these things; but you’re too old and exper’enced to need any explanations
from one as young as I.”

“Good!” ejaculated the Indian, whose voice retained its depth even as life
ebbed away; “young head—old wisdom!”

“It’s sometimes a consolation, when the ind comes, to know that them we’ve
harmed, or tried to harm, forgive us. I suppose natur’ seeks this relief,
by way of getting a pardon on ‘arth; as we never can know whether He
pardons, who is all in all, till judgment itself comes. It’s soothing to
know that any pardon at such times; and that, I conclude, is the secret.
Now, as for myself, I overlook altogether your designs ag’in my life;
first, because no harm came of ’em; next, because it’s your gifts, and
natur’, and trainin’, and I ought not to have trusted you at all; and,
finally and chiefly, because I can bear no ill-will to a dying man,
whether heathen or Christian. So put your heart at ease, so far as I’m
consarned; you know best what other matters ought to trouble you, or what
ought to give you satisfaction in so trying a moment.”

It is probable that the Indian had some of the fearful glimpses of the
unknown state of being which God, in mercy, seems at times to afford to
all the human race; but they were necessarily in conformity with his
habits and prejudices. Like most of his people, and like too many of our
own, he thought more of dying in a way to gain applause among those he
left than to secure a better state of existence hereafter. While
Deerslayer was speaking, his mind was a little bewildered, though he felt
that the intention was good; and when he had done, a regret passed over
his spirit that none of his own tribe were present to witness his
stoicism, under extreme bodily suffering, and the firmness with which he
met his end. With the high innate courtesy that so often distinguishes the
Indian warrior before he becomes corrupted by too much intercourse with
the worst class of the white men, he endeavored to express his
thankfulness for the other’s good intentions, and to let him understand
that they were appreciated.

“Good!” he repeated, for this was an English word much used by the
savages, “good! young head; young heart, too. Old heart tough; no shed
tear. Hear Indian when he die, and no want to lie—what he call him?”

“Deerslayer is the name I bear now, though the Delawares have said that
when I get back from this war-path, I shall have a more manly title,
provided I can ‘arn one.”

“That good name for boy—poor name for warrior. He get better quick.
No fear there,”—the savage had strength sufficient, under the strong
excitement he felt, to raise a hand and tap the young man on his breast,—“eye
sartain—finger lightning—aim, death—great warrior soon.
No Deerslayer—Hawkeye—Hawkeye—Hawkeye. Shake hand.”

Deerslayer—or Hawkeye, as the youth was then first named, for in
after years he bore the appellation throughout all that region—Deerslayer
took the hand of the savage, whose last breath was drawn in that attitude,
gazing in admiration at the countenance of a stranger, who had shown so
much readiness, skill, and firmness, in a scene that was equally trying
and novel. When the reader remembers it is the highest gratification an
Indian can receive to see his enemy betray weakness, he will be better
able to appreciate the conduct which had extorted so great a concession at
such a moment.

“His spirit has fled!” said Deerslayer, in a suppressed, melancholy voice.
“Ah’s me! Well, to this we must all come, sooner or later; and he is
happiest, let his skin be what color it may, who is best fitted to meet
it. Here lies the body of no doubt a brave warrior, and the soul is
already flying towards its heaven or hell, whether that be a happy hunting
ground, a place scant of game, regions of glory, according to Moravian
doctrine, or flames of fire! So it happens, too, as regards other matters!
Here have old Hutter and Hurry Harry got themselves into difficulty, if
they haven’t got themselves into torment and death, and all for a bounty
that luck offers to me in what many would think a lawful and suitable
manner. But not a farthing of such money shall cross my hand. White I was
born, and white will I die; clinging to color to the last, even though the
King’s majesty, his governors, and all his councils, both at home and in
the colonies, forget from what they come, and where they hope to go, and
all for a little advantage in warfare. No, no, warrior, hand of mine shall
never molest your scalp, and so your soul may rest in peace on the p’int
of making a decent appearance when the body comes to join it, in your own
land of spirits.”

Deerslayer arose as soon as he had spoken. Then he placed the body of the
dead man in a sitting posture, with its back against the little rock,
taking the necessary care to prevent it from falling or in any way
settling into an attitude that might be thought unseemly by the sensitive,
though wild notions of a savage. When this duty was performed, the young
man stood gazing at the grim countenance of his fallen foe, in a sort of
melancholy abstraction. As was his practice, however, a habit gained by
living so much alone in the forest, he then began again to give utterance
to his thoughts and feelings aloud.

“I didn’t wish your life, red-skin,” he said “but you left me no choice
atween killing or being killed. Each party acted according to his gifts, I
suppose, and blame can light on neither. You were treacherous, according
to your natur’ in war, and I was a little oversightful, as I’m apt to be
in trusting others. Well, this is my first battle with a human mortal,
though it’s not likely to be the last. I have fou’t most of the creatur’s
of the forest, such as bears, wolves, painters, and catamounts, but this
is the beginning with the red-skins. If I was Injin born, now, I might
tell of this, or carry in the scalp, and boast of the expl’ite afore the
whole tribe; or, if my inimy had only been even a bear, ‘twould have been
nat’ral and proper to let everybody know what had happened; but I don’t
well see how I’m to let even Chingachgook into this secret, so long as it
can be done only by boasting with a white tongue. And why should I wish to
boast of it a’ter all? It’s slaying a human, although he was a savage; and
how do I know that he was a just Injin; and that he has not been taken
away suddenly to anything but happy hunting-grounds. When it’s onsartain
whether good or evil has been done, the wisest way is not to be boastful—still,
I should like Chingachgook to know that I haven’t discredited the
Delawares, or my training!”

Part of this was uttered aloud, while part was merely muttered between the
speaker’s teeth; his more confident opinions enjoying the first advantage,
while his doubts were expressed in the latter mode. Soliloquy and
reflection received a startling interruption, however, by the sudden
appearance of a second Indian on the lake shore, a few hundred yards from
the point. This man, evidently another scout, who had probably been drawn
to the place by the reports of the rifles, broke out of the forest with so
little caution that Deerslayer caught a view of his person before he was
himself discovered. When the latter event did occur, as was the case a
moment later, the savage gave a loud yell, which was answered by a dozen
voices from different parts of the mountainside. There was no longer any
time for delay; in another minute the boat was quitting the shore under
long and steady sweeps of the paddle.

As soon as Deerslayer believed himself to be at a safe distance he ceased
his efforts, permitting the little bark to drift, while he leisurely took
a survey of the state of things. The canoe first sent adrift was floating
before the air, quite a quarter of a mile above him, and a little nearer
to the shore than he wished, now that he knew more of the savages were so
near at hand. The canoe shoved from the point was within a few yards of
him, he having directed his own course towards it on quitting the land.
The dead Indian lay in grim quiet where he had left him, the warrior who
had shown himself from the forest had already vanished, and the woods
themselves were as silent and seemingly deserted as the day they came
fresh from the hands of their great Creator. This profound stillness,
however, lasted but a moment. When time had been given to the scouts of
the enemy to reconnoitre, they burst out of the thicket upon the naked
point, filling the air with yells of fury at discovering the death of
their companion. These cries were immediately succeeded by shouts of
delight when they reached the body and clustered eagerly around it.
Deerslayer was a sufficient adept in the usages of the natives to
understand the reason of the change. The yell was the customary
lamentation at the loss of a warrior, the shout a sign of rejoicing that
the conqueror had not been able to secure the scalp; the trophy, without
which a victory is never considered complete. The distance at which the
canoes lay probably prevented any attempts to injure the conqueror, the
American Indian, like the panther of his own woods, seldom making any
effort against his foe unless tolerably certain it is under circumstances
that may be expected to prove effective.

As the young man had no longer any motive to remain near the point, he
prepared to collect his canoes, in order to tow them off to the castle.
That nearest was soon in tow, when he proceeded in quest of the other,
which was all this time floating up the lake. The eye of Deerslayer was no
sooner fastened on this last boat, than it struck him that it was nearer
to the shore than it would have been had it merely followed the course of
the gentle current of air. He began to suspect the influence of some
unseen current in the water, and he quickened his exertions, in order to
regain possession of it before it could drift into a dangerous proximity
to the woods. On getting nearer, he thought that the canoe had a
perceptible motion through the water, and, as it lay broadside to the air,
that this motion was taking it towards the land. A few vigorous strokes of
the paddle carried him still nearer, when the mystery was explained.
Something was evidently in motion on the off side of the canoe, or that
which was farthest from himself, and closer scrutiny showed that it was a
naked human arm. An Indian was lying in the bottom of the canoe, and was
propelling it slowly but certainly to the shore, using his hand as a
paddle. Deerslayer understood the whole artifice at a glance. A savage had
swum off to the boat while he was occupied with his enemy on the point,
got possession, and was using these means to urge it to the shore.

Satisfied that the man in the canoe could have no arms, Deerslayer did not
hesitate to dash close alongside of the retiring boat, without deeming it
necessary to raise his own rifle. As soon as the wash of the water, which
he made in approaching, became audible to the prostrate savage, the latter
sprang to his feet, and uttered an exclamation that proved how completely
he was taken by surprise.

“If you’ve enj’yed yourself enough in that canoe, red-skin,” Deerslayer
coolly observed, stopping his own career in sufficient time to prevent an
absolute collision between the two boats,—“if you’ve enj’yed
yourself enough in that canoe, you’ll do a prudent act by taking to the
lake ag’in. I’m reasonable in these matters, and don’t crave your blood,
though there’s them about that would look upon you more as a due-bill for
the bounty than a human mortal. Take to the lake this minute, afore we get
to hot words.”

The savage was one of those who did not understand a word of English, and
he was indebted to the gestures of Deerslayer, and to the expression of an
eye that did not often deceive, for an imperfect comprehension of his
meaning. Perhaps, too, the sight of the rifle that lay so near the hand of
the white man quickened his decision. At all events, he crouched like a
tiger about to take his leap, uttered a yell, and the next instant his
naked body disappeared in the water. When he rose to take breath, it was
at the distance of several yards from the canoe, and the hasty glance he
threw behind him denoted how much he feared the arrival of a fatal
messenger from the rifle of his foe. But the young man made no indication
of any hostile intention. Deliberately securing the canoe to the others,
he began to paddle from the shore; and by the time the Indian reached the
land, and had shaken himself, like a spaniel, on quitting the water, his
dreaded enemy was already beyond rifle-shot on his way to the castle. As
was so much his practice, Deerslayer did not fail to soliloquize on what
had just occurred, while steadily pursuing his course towards the point of
destination.

“Well, well,”—he commenced,—“’twould have been wrong to kill a
human mortal without an object. Scalps are of no account with me, and life
is sweet, and ought not to be taken marcilessly by them that have white
gifts. The savage was a Mingo, it’s true; and I make no doubt he is, and
will be as long as he lives, a ra’al riptyle and vagabond; but that’s no
reason I should forget my gifts and color. No, no,—let him go; if
ever we meet ag’in, rifle in hand, why then ’twill be seen which has the
stoutest heart and the quickest eye. Hawkeye! That’s not a bad name for a
warrior, sounding much more manful and valiant than Deerslayer! ‘Twouldn’t
be a bad title to begin with, and it has been fairly ‘arned. If ‘t was
Chingachgook, now, he might go home and boast of his deeds, and the chiefs
would name him Hawkeye in a minute; but it don’t become white blood to
brag, and ‘t isn’t easy to see how the matter can be known unless I do.
Well, well,—everything is in the hands of Providence; this affair as
well as another; I’ll trust to that for getting my desarts in all things.”

Having thus betrayed what might be termed his weak spot, the young man
continued to paddle in silence, making his way diligently, and as fast as
his tows would allow him, towards the castle. By this time the sun had not
only risen, but it had appeared over the eastern mountains, and was
shedding a flood of glorious light on this as yet unchristened sheet of
water. The whole scene was radiant with beauty; and no one unaccustomed to
the ordinary history of the woods would fancy it had so lately witnessed
incidents so ruthless and barbarous. As he approached the building of old
Hutter, Deerslayer thought, or rather felt that its appearance was in
singular harmony with all the rest of the scene. Although nothing had been
consulted but strength and security, the rude, massive logs, covered with
their rough bark, the projecting roof, and the form, would contribute to
render the building picturesque in almost any situation, while its actual
position added novelty and piquancy to its other points of interest.

When Deerslayer drew nearer to the castle, however, objects of interest
presented themselves that at once eclipsed any beauties that might have
distinguished the scenery of the lake, and the site of the singular
edifice. Judith and Hetty stood on the platform before the door, Hurry’s
dooryard awaiting his approach with manifest anxiety; the former, from
time to time, taking a survey of his person and of the canoes through the
old ship’s spyglass that has been already mentioned. Never probably did
this girl seem more brilliantly beautiful than at that moment; the flush
of anxiety and alarm increasing her color to its richest tints, while the
softness of her eyes, a charm that even poor Hetty shared with her, was
deepened by intense concern. Such, at least, without pausing or pretending
to analyze motives, or to draw any other very nice distinction between
cause and effect, were the opinions of the young man as his canoes reached
the side of the ark, where he carefully fastened all three before he put
his foot on the platform.


Chapter VIII.

Neither of the girls spoke as Deerslayer stood before them alone, his
countenance betraying all the apprehension he felt on account of two
absent members of their party.

“Father!” Judith at length exclaimed, succeeding in uttering the word, as
it might be by a desperate effort.

“He’s met with misfortune, and there’s no use in concealing it,” answered
Deerslayer, in his direct and simple minded manner. “He and Hurry are in
Mingo hands, and Heaven only knows what’s to be the tarmination. I’ve got
the canoes safe, and that’s a consolation, since the vagabonds will have
to swim for it, or raft off, to come near this place. At sunset we’ll be
reinforced by Chingachgook, if I can manage to get him into a canoe; and
then, I think, we two can answer for the ark and the castle, till some of
the officers in the garrisons hear of this war-path, which sooner or later
must be the case, when we may look for succor from that quarter, if from
no other.”

“The officers!” exclaimed Judith, impatiently, her color deepening, and
her eye expressing a lively but passing emotion. “Who thinks or speaks of
the heartless gallants now? We are sufficient of ourselves to defend the
castle. But what of my father, and of poor Hurry Harry?”

“’T is natural you should feel this consarn for your own parent, Judith,
and I suppose it’s equally so that you should feel it for Hurry Harry,
too.”

Deerslayer then commenced a succinct but clear narrative of all that
occurred during the night, in no manner concealing what had befallen his
two companions, or his own opinion of what might prove to be the
consequences. The girls listened with profound attention, but neither
betrayed that feminine apprehension and concern which would have followed
such a communication when made to those who were less accustomed to the
hazards and accidents of a frontier life. To the surprise of Deerslayer,
Judith seemed the most distressed, Hetty listening eagerly, but appearing
to brood over the facts in melancholy silence, rather than betraying any
outward signs of feeling. The former’s agitation, the young man did not
fail to attribute to the interest she felt in Hurry, quite as much as to
her filial love, while Hetty’s apparent indifference was ascribed to that
mental darkness which, in a measure, obscured her intellect, and which
possibly prevented her from foreseeing all the consequences. Little was
said, however, by either, Judith and her sister busying themselves in
making the preparations for the morning meal, as they who habitually
attend to such matters toil on mechanically even in the midst of suffering
and sorrow. The plain but nutritious breakfast was taken by all three in
sombre silence. The girls ate little, but Deerslayer gave proof of
possessing one material requisite of a good soldier, that of preserving
his appetite in the midst of the most alarming and embarrassing
circumstances. The meal was nearly ended before a syllable was uttered;
then, however, Judith spoke in the convulsive and hurried manner in which
feeling breaks through restraint, after the latter has become more painful
than even the betrayal of emotion.

“Father would have relished this fish,” she exclaimed; “he says the salmon
of the lakes is almost as good as the salmon of the sea.”

“Your father has been acquainted with the sea, they tell me, Judith,”
returned the young man, who could not forbear throwing a glance of inquiry
at the girl; for in common with all who knew Hutter, he had some curiosity
on the subject of his early history. “Hurry Harry tells me he was once a
sailor.”

Judith first looked perplexed; then, influenced by feelings that were
novel to her, in more ways than one, she became suddenly communicative,
and seemingly much interested in the discourse.

“If Hurry knows anything of father’s history, I would he had told it to
me!” she cried. “Sometimes I think, too, he was once a sailor, and then
again I think he was not. If that chest were open, or if it could speak,
it might let us into his whole history. But its fastenings are too strong
to be broken like pack thread.”

Deerslayer turned to the chest in question, and for the first time
examined it closely. Although discolored, and bearing proofs of having
received much ill-treatment, he saw that it was of materials and
workmanship altogether superior to anything of the same sort he had ever
before beheld. The wood was dark, rich, and had once been highly polished,
though the treatment it had received left little gloss on its surface, and
various scratches and indentations proved the rough collisions that it had
encountered with substances still harder than itself. The corners were
firmly bound with steel, elaborately and richly wrought, while the locks,
of which it had no less than three, and the hinges, were of a fashion and
workmanship that would have attracted attention even in a warehouse of
curious furniture. This chest was quite large; and when Deerslayer arose,
and endeavored to raise an end by its massive handle, he found that the
weight fully corresponded with the external appearance.

“Did you never see that chest opened, Judith?” the young man demanded with
frontier freedom, for delicacy on such subjects was little felt among the
people on the verge of civilization, in that age, even if it be today.

“Never. Father has never opened it in my presence, if he ever opens it at
all. No one here has ever seen its lid raised, unless it be father; nor do
I even know that he has ever seen it.”

“Now you’re wrong, Judith,” Hetty quietly answered. “Father has raised the
lid, and I’ve seen him do it.”

A feeling of manliness kept the mouth of Deerslayer shut; for, while he
would not have hesitated about going far beyond what would be thought the
bounds of propriety, in questioning the older sister, he had just scruples
about taking what might be thought an advantage of the feeble intellect of
the younger. Judith, being under no such restraint, however, turned
quickly to the last speaker and continued the discourse.

“When and where did you ever see that chest opened, Hetty?”

“Here, and again and again. Father often opens it when you are away,
though he don’t in the least mind my being by, and seeing all he does, as
well as hearing all he says.”

“And what is it that he does, and what does he say?”

“That I cannot tell you, Judith,” returned the other in a low but resolute
voice. “Father’s secrets are not my secrets.”

“Secrets! This is stranger still, Deerslayer, that father should tell them
to Hetty, and not tell them to me!”

“There’s a good reason for that, Judith, though you’re not to know it.
Father’s not here to answer for himself, and I’ll say no more about it.”

Judith and Deerslayer looked surprised, and for a minute the first seemed
pained. But, suddenly recollecting herself, she turned away from her
sister, as if in pity for her weakness and addressed the young man.

“You’ve told but half your story,” she said, “breaking off at the place
where you went to sleep in the canoe—or rather where you rose to
listen to the cry of the loon. We heard the call of the loons, too, and
thought their cries might bring a storm, though we are little used to
tempests on this lake at this season of the year.”

“The winds blow and the tempests howl as God pleases; sometimes at one
season, and sometimes at another,” answered Deerslayer; “and the loons
speak accordin’ to their natur’. Better would it be if men were as honest
and frank. After I rose to listen to the birds, finding it could not be
Hurry’s signal, I lay down and slept. When the day dawned I was up and
stirring, as usual, and then I went in chase of the two canoes, lest the
Mingos should lay hands on ’em.”

“You have not told us all, Deerslayer,” said Judith earnestly. “We heard
rifles under the eastern mountain; the echoes were full and long, and came
so soon after the reports, that the pieces must have been fired on or
quite near to the shore. Our ears are used to these signs, and are not to
be deceived.”

“They’ve done their duty, gal, this time; yes, they’ve done their duty.
Rifles have been sighted this morning, ay, and triggers pulled, too,
though not as often as they might have been. One warrior has gone to his
happy hunting-grounds, and that’s the whole of it. A man of white blood
and white gifts is not to be expected to boast of his expl’ites and to
flourish scalps.”

Judith listened almost breathlessly; and when Deerslayer, in his quiet,
modest manner, seemed disposed to quit the subject, she rose, and crossing
the room, took a seat by his side. The manner of the girl had nothing
forward about it, though it betrayed the quick instinct of a female’s
affection, and the sympathizing kindness of a woman’s heart. She even took
the hard hand of the hunter, and pressed it in both her own, unconsciously
to herself, perhaps, while she looked earnestly and even reproachfully
into his sun burnt face.

“You have been fighting the savages, Deerslayer, singly and by yourself!”
she said. “In your wish to take care of us—-of Hetty—of me,
perhaps, you’ve fought the enemy bravely, with no eye to encourage your
deeds, or to witness your fall, had it pleased Providence to suffer so
great a calamity!”

“I’ve fou’t, Judith; yes, I have fou’t the inimy, and that too, for the
first time in my life. These things must be, and they bring with ’em a
mixed feelin’ of sorrow and triumph. Human natur’ is a fightin’ natur’, I
suppose, as all nations kill in battle, and we must be true to our rights
and gifts. What has yet been done is no great matter, but should
Chingachgook come to the rock this evening, as is agreed atween us, and I
get him off it onbeknown to the savages or, if known to them, ag’in their
wishes and designs, then may we all look to something like warfare, afore
the Mingos shall get possession of either the castle, or the ark, or
yourselves.”

“Who is this Chingachgook; from what place does he come, and why does he
come here?”

“The questions are nat’ral and right, I suppose, though the youth has a
great name, already, in his own part of the country. Chingachgook is a
Mohican by blood, consorting with the Delawares by usage, as is the case
with most of his tribe, which has long been broken up by the increase of
our color. He is of the family of the great chiefs; Uncas, his father,
having been the considerablest warrior and counsellor of his people. Even
old Tamenund honors Chingachgook, though he is thought to be yet too young
to lead in war; and then the nation is so disparsed and diminished, that
chieftainship among ’em has got to be little more than a name.

“Well, this war having commenced in ‘arnest, the Delaware and I
rendezvous’d an app’intment, to meet this evening at sunset on the
rendezvous-rock at the foot of this very lake, intending to come out on
our first hostile expedition ag’in the Mingos. Why we come exactly this a
way is our own secret; but thoughtful young men on the war-path, as you
may suppose, do nothing without a calculation and a design.”

“A Delaware can have no unfriendly intentions towards us,” said Judith,
after a moment’s hesitation, “and we know you to be friendly.”

“Treachery is the last crime I hope to be accused of,” returned
Deerslayer, hurt at the gleam of distrust that had shot through Judith’s
mind; “and least of all, treachery to my own color.”

“No one suspects you, Deerslayer,” the girl impetuously cried. “No—no—your
honest countenance would be sufficient surety for the truth of a thousand
hearts! If all men had as honest tongues, and no more promised what they
did not mean to perform, there would be less wrong done in the world, and
fine feathers and scarlet cloaks would not be excuses for baseness and
deception.”

The girl spoke with strong, nay, even with convulsed feeling, and her fine
eyes, usually so soft and alluring, flashed fire as she concluded.
Deerslayer could not but observe this extraordinary emotion; but with the
tact of a courtier, he avoided not only any allusion to the circumstance,
but succeeded in concealing the effect of his discovery on himself. Judith
gradually grew calm again, and as she was obviously anxious to appear to
advantage in the eyes of the young man, she was soon able to renew the
conversation as composedly as if nothing had occurred to disturb her.

“I have no right to look into your secrets, or the secrets of your friend,
Deerslayer,” she continued, “and am ready to take all you say on trust. If
we can really get another male ally to join us at this trying moment, it
will aid us much; and I am not without hope that when the savages find
that we are able to keep the lake, they will offer to give up their
prisoners in exchange for skins, or at least for the keg of powder that we
have in the house.”

The young man had the words “scalps” and “bounty” on his lips, but a
reluctance to alarm the feelings of the daughters prevented him from
making the allusion he had intended to the probable fate of their father.
Still, so little was he practised in the arts of deception, that his
expressive countenance was, of itself, understood by the quick-witted
Judith, whose intelligence had been sharpened by the risks and habits of
her life.

“I understand what you mean,” she continued, hurriedly, “and what you
would say, but for the fear of hurting me—us, I mean; for Hetty
loves her father quite as well as I do. But this is not as we think of
Indians. They never scalp an unhurt prisoner, but would rather take him
away alive, unless, indeed, the fierce wish for torturing should get the
mastery of them. I fear nothing for my father’s scalp, and little for his
life. Could they steal on us in the night, we should all probably suffer
in this way; but men taken in open strife are seldom injured; not, at
least, until the time of torture comes.”

“That’s tradition, I’ll allow, and it’s accordin’ to practice—but,
Judith, do you know the arr’nd on which your father and Hurry went ag’in
the savages?”

“I do; and a cruel errand it was! But what will you have? Men will be men,
and some even that flaunt in their gold and silver, and carry the King’s
commission in their pockets, are not guiltless of equal cruelty.” Judith’s
eye again flashed, but by a desperate struggle she resumed her composure.
“I get warm when I think of all the wrong that men do,” she added,
affecting to smile, an effort in which she only succeeded indifferently
well. “All this is silly. What is done is done, and it cannot be mended by
complaints. But the Indians think so little of the shedding of blood, and
value men so much for the boldness of their undertakings, that, did they
know the business on which their prisoners came, they would be more likely
to honor than to injure them for it.”

“For a time, Judith; yes, I allow that, for a time. But when that feelin’
dies away, then will come the love of revenge. We must indivor,—Chingachgook
and I,—we must indivor to see what we can do to get Hurry and your
father free; for the Mingos will no doubt hover about this lake some days,
in order to make the most of their success.”

“You think this Delaware can be depended on, Deerslayer?” demanded the
girl, thoughtfully.

“As much as I can myself. You say you do not suspect me, Judith?”

“You!” taking his hand again, and pressing it between her own, with a
warmth that might have awakened the vanity of one less simple-minded, and
more disposed to dwell on his own good qualities, “I would as soon suspect
a brother! I have known you but a day, Deerslayer, but it has awakened the
confidence of a year. Your name, however, is not unknown to me; for the
gallants of the garrisons frequently speak of the lessons you have given
them in hunting, and all proclaim your honesty.”

“Do they ever talk of the shooting, gal?” inquired the other eagerly,
after, however, laughing in a silent but heartfelt manner. “Do they ever
talk of the shooting? I want to hear nothing about my own, for if that
isn’t sartified to by this time, in all these parts, there’s little use in
being skilful and sure; but what do the officers say of their own—yes,
what do they say of their own? Arms, as they call it, is their trade, and
yet there’s some among ’em that know very little how to use ’em!”

“Such I hope will not be the case with your friend Chingachgook, as you
call him—what is the English of his Indian name?”

“Big Sarpent—so called for his wisdom and cunning, Uncas is his
ra’al name—all his family being called Uncas until they get a title
that has been ‘arned by deeds.”

“If he has all this wisdom, we may expect a useful friend in him, unless
his own business in this part of the country should prevent him from
serving us.”

“I see no great harm in telling you his arr’nd, a’ter all, and, as you may
find means to help us, I will let you and Hetty into the whole matter,
trusting that you’ll keep the secret as if it was your own. You must know
that Chingachgook is a comely Injin, and is much looked upon and admired
by the young women of his tribe, both on account of his family, and on
account of himself. Now, there is a chief that has a daughter called
Wah-ta-Wah, which is intarpreted into Hist-oh-Hist, in the English tongue,
the rarest gal among the Delawares, and the one most sought a’ter and
craved for a wife by all the young warriors of the nation. Well,
Chingachgook, among others, took a fancy to Wah-ta-Wah, and Wah-ta-Wah
took a fancy to him.” Here Deerslayer paused an instant; for, as he got
thus far in his tale, Hetty Hutter arose, approached, and stood attentive
at his knee, as a child draws near to listen to the legends of its mother.
“Yes, he fancied her, and she fancied him,” resumed Deerslayer, casting a
friendly and approving glance at the innocent and interested girl; “and
when that is the case, and all the elders are agreed, it does not often
happen that the young couple keep apart. Chingachgook couldn’t well carry
off such a prize without making inimies among them that wanted her as much
as he did himself. A sartain Briarthorn, as we call him in English, or
Yocommon, as he is tarmed in Injin, took it most to heart, and we mistrust
him of having a hand in all that followed.”

“Wah-ta-Wah went with her father and mother, two moons ago, to fish for
salmon on the western streams, where it is agreed by all in these parts
that fish most abounds, and while thus empl’yed the gal vanished. For
several weeks we could get no tidings of her; but here, ten days since, a
runner, that came through the Delaware country, brought us a message, by
which we learn that Wah-ta-Wah was stolen from her people, we think, but
do not know it, by Briarthorn’s sarcumventions,—and that she was now
with the inimy, who had adopted her, and wanted her to marry a young
Mingo. The message said that the party intended to hunt and forage through
this region for a month or two, afore it went back into the Canadas, and
that if we could contrive to get on a scent in this quarter, something
might turn up that would lead to our getting the maiden off.”

“And how does that concern you, Deerslayer?” demanded Judith, a little
anxiously.

“It consarns me, as all things that touches a fri’nd consarns a fri’nd.
I’m here as Chingachgook’s aid and helper, and if we can get the young
maiden he likes back ag’in, it will give me almost as much pleasure as if
I had got back my own sweetheart.”

“And where, then, is your sweetheart, Deerslayer?”

“She’s in the forest, Judith—hanging from the boughs of the trees,
in a soft rain—in the dew on the open grass—the clouds that
float about in the blue heavens—the birds that sing in the woods—the
sweet springs where I slake my thirst—and in all the other glorious
gifts that come from God’s Providence!”

“You mean that, as yet, you’ve never loved one of my sex, but love best
your haunts, and your own manner of life.”

“That’s it—that’s just it. I am white—have a white heart and
can’t, in reason, love a red-skinned maiden, who must have a red-skin
heart and feelin’s. No, no, I’m sound enough in them partic’lars, and hope
to remain so, at least till this war is over. I find my time too much
taken up with Chingachgook’s affair, to wish to have one of my own on my
hands afore that is settled.”

“The girl that finally wins you, Deerslayer, will at least win an honest
heart,—one without treachery or guile; and that will be a victory
that most of her sex ought to envy.”

As Judith uttered this, her beautiful face had a resentful frown on it;
while a bitter smile lingered around a mouth that no derangement of the
muscles could render anything but handsome. Her companion observed the
change, and though little skilled in the workings of the female heart, he
had sufficient native delicacy to understand that it might be well to drop
the subject.

As the hour when Chingachgook was expected still remained distant,
Deerslayer had time enough to examine into the state of the defences, and
to make such additional arrangements as were in his power, and the
exigency of the moment seemed to require. The experience and foresight of
Hutter had left little to be done in these particulars; still, several
precautions suggested themselves to the young man, who may be said to have
studied the art of frontier warfare, through the traditions and legends of
the people among whom he had so long lived. The distance between the
castle and the nearest point on the shore, prevented any apprehension on
the subject of rifle-bullets thrown from the land. The house was within
musket-shot in one sense, it was true, but aim was entirely out of the
question, and even Judith professed a perfect disregard of any danger from
that source. So long, then, as the party remained in possession of the
fortress, they were safe, unless their assailants could find the means to
come off and carry it by fire or storm, or by some of the devices of
Indian cunning and Indian treachery.

Against the first source of danger Hutter had made ample provision, and
the building itself, the bark roof excepted, was not very combustible. The
floor was scuttled in several places, and buckets provided with ropes were
in daily use, in readiness for any such emergency. One of the girls could
easily extinguish any fire that might be lighted, provided it had not time
to make much headway. Judith, who appeared to understand all her father’s
schemes of defence, and who had the spirit to take no unimportant share in
the execution of them, explained all these details to the young man, who
was thus saved much time and labor in making his investigations.

Little was to be apprehended during the day. In possession of the canoes
and of the ark, no other vessel was to be found on the lake. Nevertheless,
Deerslayer well knew that a raft was soon made, and, as dead trees were to
be found in abundance near the water, did the savages seriously
contemplate the risks of an assault, it would not be a very difficult
matter to find the necessary means. The celebrated American axe, a tool
that is quite unrivalled in its way, was then not very extensively known,
and the savages were far from expert in the use of its hatchet-like
substitute; still, they had sufficient practice in crossing streams by
this mode to render it certain they would construct a raft, should they
deem it expedient to expose themselves to the risks of an assault. The
death of their warrior might prove a sufficient incentive, or it might act
as a caution; but Deerslayer thought it more than possible that the
succeeding night would bring matters to a crisis, and in this precise way.
This impression caused him to wish ardently for the presence and succor of
his Mohican friend, and to look forward to the approach of sunset with an
increasing anxiety.

As the day advanced, the party in the castle matured their plans, and made
their preparations. Judith was active, and seemed to find a pleasure in
consulting and advising with her new acquaintance, whose indifference to
danger, manly devotion to herself and sister, guilelessness of manner, and
truth of feeling, had won rapidly on both her imagination and her
affections. Although the hours appeared long in some respects to
Deerslayer, Judith did not find them so, and when the sun began to descend
towards the pine-clad summits of the western hills, she felt and expressed
her surprise that the day should so soon be drawing to a close. On the
other hand, Hetty was moody and silent. She was never loquacious, or if
she occasionally became communicative, it was under the influence of some
temporary excitement that served to arouse her unsophisticated mind; but,
for hours at a time, in the course of this all-important day, she seemed
to have absolutely lost the use of her tongue. Nor did apprehension on
account of her father materially affect the manner of either sister.
Neither appeared seriously to dread any evil greater than captivity, and
once or twice, when Hetty did speak, she intimated the expectation that
Hutter would find the means to liberate himself. Although Judith was less
sanguine on this head, she too betrayed the hope that propositions for a
ransom would come, when the Indians discovered that the castle set their
expedients and artifices at defiance. Deerslayer, however, treated these
passing suggestions as the ill-digested fancies of girls, making his own
arrangements as steadily, and brooding over the future as seriously, as if
they had never fallen from their lips.

At length the hour arrived when it became necessary to proceed to the
place of rendezvous appointed with the Mohican, or Delaware, as
Chingachgook was more commonly called. As the plan had been matured by
Deerslayer, and fully communicated to his companions, all three set about
its execution, in concert, and intelligently. Hetty passed into the ark,
and fastening two of the canoes together, she entered one, and paddled up
to a sort of gateway in the palisadoes that surrounded the building,
through which she carried both; securing them beneath the house by chains
that were fastened within the building. These palisadoes were trunks of
trees driven firmly into the mud, and served the double purpose of a small
inclosure that was intended to be used in this very manner, and to keep
any enemy that might approach in boats at arm’s length. Canoes thus docked
were, in a measure, hid from sight, and as the gate was properly barred
and fastened, it would not be an easy task to remove them, even in the
event of their being seen. Previously, however, to closing the gate,
Judith also entered within the inclosure with the third canoe, leaving
Deerslayer busy in securing the door and windows inside the building, over
her head. As everything was massive and strong, and small saplings were
used as bars, it would have been the work of an hour or two to break into
the building, when Deerslayer had ended his task, even allowing the
assailants the use of any tools but the axe, and to be unresisted. This
attention to security arose from Hutter’s having been robbed once or twice
by the lawless whites of the frontiers, during some of his many absences
from home.

As soon as all was fast in the inside of the dwelling, Deerslayer appeared
at a trap, from which he descended into the canoe of Judith. When this was
done, he fastened the door with a massive staple and stout padlock. Hetty
was then received in the canoe, which was shoved outside of the
palisadoes. The next precaution was to fasten the gate, and the keys were
carried into the ark. The three were now fastened out of the dwelling,
which could only be entered by violence, or by following the course taken
by the young man in quitting it. The glass had been brought outside as a
preliminary step, and Deerslayer next took a careful survey of the entire
shore of the lake, as far as his own position would allow. Not a living
thing was visible, a few birds excepted, and even the last fluttered about
in the shades of the trees, as if unwilling to encounter the heat of a
sultry afternoon. All the nearest points, in particular, were subjected to
severe scrutiny, in order to make certain that no raft was in preparation;
the result everywhere giving the same picture of calm solitude. A few
words will explain the greatest embarrassment belonging to the situation
of our party. Exposed themselves to the observation of any watchful eyes,
the movements of their enemies were concealed by the drapery of a dense
forest. While the imagination would be very apt to people the latter with
more warriors than it really contained, their own weakness must be too
apparent to all who might chance to cast a glance in their direction.

“Nothing is stirring, howsever,” exclaimed Deerslayer, as he finally
lowered the glass, and prepared to enter the ark. “If the vagabonds do
harbor mischief in their minds, they are too cunning to let it be seen;
it’s true, a raft may be in preparation in the woods, but it has not yet
been brought down to the lake. They can’t guess that we are about to quit
the castle, and, if they did, they’ve no means of knowing where we intend
to go.”

“This is so true, Deerslayer,” returned Judith, “that now all is ready, we
may proceed at once, boldly, and without the fear of being followed; else
we shall be behind our time.”

“No, no; the matter needs management; for, though the savages are in the
dark as to Chingachgook and the rock, they’ve eyes and legs, and will see
in what direction we steer, and will be sartain to follow us. I shall
strive to baffle ’em, howsever, by heading the scow in all manner of ways,
first in one quarter and then in another, until they get to be
a-leg-weary, and tired of tramping a’ter us.”

So far as it was in his power, Deerslayer was as good as his word. In less
than five minutes after this speech was made, the whole party was in the
ark, and in motion. There was a gentle breeze from the north, and boldly
hoisting the sail, the young man laid the head of the unwieldy craft in
such a direction, as, after making a liberal but necessary allowance for
leeway, would have brought it ashore a couple of miles down the lake, and
on its eastern side. The sailing of the ark was never very swift, though,
floating as it did on the surface, it was not difficult to get it in
motion, or to urge it along over the water at the rate of some three or
four miles in the hour. The distance between the castle and the rock was a
little more than two leagues. Knowing the punctuality of an Indian,
Deerslayer had made his calculations closely, and had given himself a
little more time than was necessary to reach the place of rendezvous, with
a view to delay or to press his arrival, as might prove most expedient.
When he hoisted the sail, the sun lay above the western hills, at an
elevation that promised rather more than two hours of day; and a few
minutes satisfied him that the progress of the scow was such as to equal
his expectations.

It was a glorious June afternoon, and never did that solitary sheet of
water seem less like an arena of strife and bloodshed. The light air
scarce descended as low as the bed of the lake, hovering over it, as if
unwilling to disturb its deep tranquillity, or to ruffle its mirror-like
surface. Even the forests appeared to be slumbering in the sun, and a few
piles of fleecy clouds had lain for hours along the northern horizon like
fixtures in the atmosphere, placed there purely to embellish the scene. A
few aquatic fowls occasionally skimmed along the water, and a single raven
was visible, sailing high above the trees, and keeping a watchful eye on
the forest beneath him, in order to detect anything having life that the
mysterious woods might offer as prey.

The reader will probably have observed, that, amidst the frankness and
abruptness of manner which marked the frontier habits of Judith, her
language was superior to that used by her male companions, her own father
included. This difference extended as well to pronunciation as to the
choice of words and phrases. Perhaps nothing so soon betrays the education
and association as the modes of speech; and few accomplishments so much
aid the charm of female beauty as a graceful and even utterance, while
nothing so soon produces the disenchantment that necessarily follows a
discrepancy between appearance and manner, as a mean intonation of voice,
or a vulgar use of words. Judith and her sister were marked exceptions to
all the girls of their class, along that whole frontier; the officers of
the nearest garrison having often flattered the former with the belief
that few ladies of the towns acquitted themselves better than herself, in
this important particular. This was far from being literally true, but it
was sufficiently near the fact to give birth to the compliment. The girls
were indebted to their mother for this proficiency, having acquired from
her, in childhood, an advantage that no subsequent study or labor can give
without a drawback, if neglected beyond the earlier periods of life. Who
that mother was, or rather had been, no one but Hutter knew. She had now
been dead two summers, and, as was stated by Hurry, she had been buried in
the lake; whether in indulgence of a prejudice, or from a reluctance to
take the trouble to dig her grave, had frequently been a matter of
discussion between the rude beings of that region. Judith had never
visited the spot, but Hetty was present at the interment, and she often
paddled a canoe, about sunset or by the light of the moon, to the place,
and gazed down into the limpid water, in the hope of being able to catch a
glimpse of the form that she had so tenderly loved from infancy to the sad
hour of their parting.

“Must we reach the rock exactly at the moment the sun sets?” Judith
demanded of the young man, as they stood near each other, Deerslayer
holding the steering-oar, and she working with a needle at some ornament
of dress, that much exceeded her station in life, and was altogether a
novelty in the woods. “Will a few minutes, sooner or later, alter the
matter? It will be very hazardous to remain long as near the shore as that
rock!”

“That’s it, Judith; that’s the very difficulty! The rock’s within p’int
blank for a shot-gun, and ’twill never do to hover about it too close and
too long. When you have to deal with an Injin, you must calculate and
manage, for a red natur’ dearly likes sarcumvention. Now you see, Judith,
that I do not steer towards the rock at all, but here to the eastward of
it, whereby the savages will be tramping off in that direction, and get
their legs a-wearied, and all for no advantage.”

“You think, then, they see us, and watch our movements, Deerslayer? I was
in hopes they might have fallen back into the woods, and left us to
ourselves for a few hours.”

“That’s altogether a woman’s consait. There’s no let-up in an Injin’s
watchfulness when he’s on a war-path, and eyes are on us at this minute,
‘though the lake presarves us. We must draw near the rock on a
calculation, and indivor to get the miscreants on a false scent. The
Mingos have good noses, they tell me; but a white man’s reason ought
always to equalize their instinct.”

Judith now entered into a desultory discourse with Deerslayer, in which
the girl betrayed her growing interest in the young man; an interest that
his simplicity of mind and her decision of character, sustained as it was
by the consciousness awakened by the consideration her personal charms so
universally produced, rendered her less anxious to conceal than might
otherwise have been the case. She was scarcely forward in her manner,
though there was sometimes a freedom in her glances that it required all
the aid of her exceeding beauty to prevent from awakening suspicions
unfavorable to her discretion, if not to her morals. With Deerslayer,
however, these glances were rendered less obnoxious to so unpleasant a
construction; for she seldom looked at him without discovering much of the
sincerity and nature that accompany the purest emotions of woman. It was a
little remarkable that, as his captivity lengthened, neither of the girls
manifested any great concern for her father; but, as has been said
already, their habits gave them confidence, and they looked forward to his
liberation, by means of a ransom, with a confidence that might, in a great
degree, account for their apparent indifference. Once before, Hutter had
been in the hands of the Iroquois, and a few skins had readily effected
his release. This event, however, unknown to the sisters, had occurred in
a time of peace between England and France, and when the savages were
restrained, instead of being encouraged to commit their excesses, by the
policy of the different colonial governments.

While Judith was loquacious and caressing in her manner, Hetty remained
thoughtful and silent. Once, indeed, she drew near to Deerslayer, and
questioned him a little closely as to his intentions, as well as
concerning the mode of effecting his purpose; but her wish to converse
went no further. As soon as her simple queries were answered—and
answered they all were, in the fullest and kindest manner—she
withdrew to her seat, and continued to work on a coarse garment that she
was making for her father, sometimes humming a low melancholy air, and
frequently sighing.

In this manner the time passed away; and when the sun was beginning to
glow behind the fringe of the pines that bounded the western hill, or
about twenty minutes before it actually set, the ark was nearly as low as
the point where Hutter and Hurry had been made prisoners. By sheering
first to one side of the lake, and then to the other, Deerslayer managed
to create an uncertainty as to his object; and, doubtless, the savages,
who were unquestionably watching his movements, were led to believe that
his aim was to communicate with them, at or near this spot, and would
hasten in that direction, in order to be in readiness to profit by
circumstances. This artifice was well managed; since the sweep of the bay,
the curvature of the lake, and the low marshy land that intervened, would
probably allow the ark to reach the rock before its pursuers, if really
collected near this point, could have time to make the circuit that would
be required to get there by land. With a view to aid this deception,
Deerslayer stood as near the western shore as was at all prudent; and then
causing Judith and Hetty to enter the house, or cabin, and crouching
himself so as to conceal his person by the frame of the scow, he suddenly
threw the head of the latter round, and began to make the best of his way
towards the outlet. Favored by an increase in the wind, the progress of
the ark was such as to promise the complete success of this plan, though
the crab-like movement of the craft compelled the helmsman to keep its
head looking in a direction very different from that in which it was
actually moving.


Chapter IX.

It may assist the reader in understanding the events we are about to
record, if he has a rapidly sketched picture of the scene, placed before
his eyes at a single view. It will be remembered that the lake was an
irregularly shaped basin, of an outline that, in the main, was oval, but
with bays and points to relieve its formality and ornament its shores. The
surface of this beautiful sheet of water was now glittering like a gem, in
the last rays of the evening sun, and the setting of the whole, hills
clothed in the richest forest verdure, was lighted up with a sort of
radiant smile, that is best described in the beautiful lines we have
placed at the head of this chapter. As the banks, with few exceptions,
rose abruptly from the water, even where the mountain did not immediately
bound the view, there was a nearly unbroken fringe of leaves overhanging
the placid lake, the trees starting out of the acclivities, inclining to
the light, until, in many instances they extended their long limbs and
straight trunks some forty or fifty feet beyond the line of the
perpendicular. In these cases we allude only to the giants of the forest,
pines of a hundred or a hundred and fifty feet in height, for of the
smaller growth, very many inclined so far as to steep their lower branches
in the water. In the position in which the Ark had now got, the castle was
concealed from view by the projection of a point, as indeed was the
northern extremity of the lake itself. A respectable mountain, forest
clad, and rounded, like all the rest, limited the view in that direction,
stretching immediately across the whole of the fair scene, with the
exception of a deep bay that passed the western end, lengthening the
basin, for more than a mile.

The manner in which the water flowed out of the lake, beneath the leafy
arches of the trees that lined the sides of the stream, has already been
mentioned, and it has also been said that the rock, which was a favorite
place of rendezvous throughout all that region, and where Deerslayer now
expected to meet his friend, stood near this outlet, and at no great
distance from the shore. It was a large, isolated stone that rested on the
bottom of the lake, apparently left there when the waters tore away the
earth from around it, in forcing for themselves a passage down the river,
and which had obtained its shape from the action of the elements, during
the slow progress of centuries. The height of this rock could scarcely
equal six feet, and, as has been said, its shape was not unlike that which
is usually given to beehives, or to a hay-cock. The latter, indeed, gives
the best idea not only of its form, but of its dimensions. It stood, and
still stands, for we are writing of real scenes, within fifty feet of the
bank, and in water that was only two feet in depth, though there were
seasons in which its rounded apex, if such a term can properly be used,
was covered by the lake. Many of the trees stretched so far forward, as
almost to blend the rock with the shore, when seen from a little distance,
and one tall pine in particular overhung it in a way to form a noble and
appropriate canopy to a seat that had held many a forest chieftain, during
the long succession of unknown ages, in which America, and all it
contained, had existed apart, in mysterious solitude, a world by itself;
equally without a familiar history, and without an origin that the annals
of man can reach.

When distant some two or three hundred feet from the shore, Deerslayer
took in his sail. He dropped his grapnel, as soon as he found the Ark had
drifted in a line that was directly to windward of the rock. The motion of
the scow was then checked, when it was brought head to wind, by the action
of the breeze. As soon as this was done, Deerslayer “paid out line,” and
suffered the vessel to “set down” upon the rock, as fast as the light air
could force it to leeward. Floating entirely on the surface, this was soon
effected, and the young man checked the drift when he was told that the
stern of the scow was within fifteen or eighteen feet of the desired spot.

In executing this maneuver, Deerslayer had proceeded promptly, for, while
he did not in the least doubt that he was both watched and followed by the
foe, he believed he distracted their movements, by the apparent
uncertainty of his own, and he knew they could have no means of
ascertaining that the rock was his aim, unless indeed one of their
prisoners had betrayed him; a chance so improbable in itself, as to give
him no concern. Notwithstanding the celerity and decision his movements,
he did not, however, venture so near the shore without taking due
precautions to effect a retreat, in the event of its becoming necessary.
He held the line in his hand, and Judith was stationed at a loop, on the
side of the cabin next the shore, where she could watch the beach and the
rock, and give timely notice of the approach of either friend or foe.
Hetty was also placed on watch, but it was to keep the trees overhead in
view, lest some enemy might ascend one, and, by completely commanding the
interior of the scow render the defence of the hut, or cabin, useless.

The sun had disappeared from the lake and valley, when Deerslayer checked
the Ark, in the manner mentioned. Still it wanted a few minutes to the
true sunset, and he knew Indian punctuality too well to anticipate any
unmanly haste in his friend. The great question was, whether, surrounded
by enemies as he was known to be, he had escaped their toils. The
occurrences of the last twenty-four hours must be a secret to him, and
like himself, Chingachgook was yet young on a path. It was true, he came
prepared to encounter the party that withheld his promised bride, but he
had no means ascertaining the extent of the danger he ran, or the precise
positions occupied by either friends, or foes. In a word, the trained
sagacity, and untiring caution of an Indian were all he had to rely on,
amid the critical risks he unavoidably ran.

“Is the rock empty, Judith?” inquired Deerslayer, as soon as he had
checked the drift of the Ark, deeming it imprudent to venture
unnecessarily near the shore. “Is any thing to be seen of the Delaware
chief?”

“Nothing, Deerslayer. Neither rock, shore, trees, nor lake seems to have
ever held a human form.”

‘Keep close, Judith—keep close, Hetty—a rifle has a prying
eye, a nimble foot, and a desperate fatal tongue. Keep close then, but
keep up actyve looks, and be on the alart. ‘Twould grieve me to the heart,
did any harm befall either of you.’

“And you Deerslayer—” exclaimed Judith, turning her handsome face
from the loop, to bestow a gracious and grateful look on the young man—“do
you ‘keep close’, and have a proper care that the savages do not catch a
glimpse of you! A bullet might be as fatal to you as to one of us; and the
blow that you felt, would be felt by us all.”

“No fear of me, Judith—no fear of me, my good gal. Do not look
this-a-way, although you look so pleasant and comely, but keep your eyes
on the rock, and the shore, and the—”

Deerslayer was interrupted by a slight exclamation from the girl, who, in
obedience to his hurried gestures, as much as in obedience to his words,
had immediately bent her looks again, in the opposite direction.

“What is’t?—What is’t, Judith?” he hastily demanded—“Is any
thing to be seen?”

“There is a man on the rock!—An Indian warrior, in his paint—and
armed!”

“Where does he wear his hawk’s feather?” eagerly added Deerslayer,
relaxing his hold of the line, in readiness to drift nearer to the place
of rendezvous. “Is it fast to the war-lock, or does he carry it above the
left ear?”

“’Tis as you say, above the left ear; he smiles, too, and mutters the word
‘Mohican.’”

“God be praised, ’tis the Sarpent, at last!” exclaimed the young man,
suffering the line to slip through his hands, until hearing a light bound,
in the other end of the craft, he instantly checked the rope, and began to
haul it in, again, under the assurance that his object was effected. At
that moment the door of the cabin was opened hastily, and, a warrior,
darting through the little room, stood at Deerslayer’s side, simply
uttering the exclamation “Hugh!” At the next instant, Judith and Hetty
shrieked, and the air was filled with the yell of twenty savages, who came
leaping through the branches, down the bank, some actually falling
headlong into the water, in their haste.

“Pull, Deerslayer,” cried Judith, hastily barring the door, in order to
prevent an inroad by the passage through which the Delaware had just
entered; “pull, for life and death—the lake is full of savages,
wading after us!”

The young men—for Chingachgook immediately came to his friend’s
assistance—needed no second bidding, but they applied themselves to
their task in a way that showed how urgent they deemed the occasion. The
great difficulty was in suddenly overcoming the inertia of so large a
mass, for once in motion, it was easy to cause the scow to skim the water
with all the necessary speed.

“Pull, Deerslayer, for Heaven’s sake!” cried Judith, again at the loop.
“These wretches rush into the water like hounds following their prey! Ah—the
scow moves! and now, the water deepens, to the arm-pits of the foremost,
but they reach forward, and will seize the Ark!”

A slight scream, and then a joyous laugh followed from the girl; the first
produced by a desperate effort of their pursuers, and the last by its
failure; the scow, which had now got fairly in motion gliding ahead into
deep water, with a velocity that set the designs of their enemies at
nought. As the two men were prevented by the position of the cabin from
seeing what passed astern, they were compelled to inquire of the girls
into the state of the chase.

“What now, Judith?—What next?—Do the Mingos still follow, or
are we quit of ’em, for the present,” demanded Deerslayer, when he felt
the rope yielding as if the scow was going fast ahead, and heard the
scream and the laugh of the girl, almost in the same breath.

“They have vanished!—One—the last—is just burying
himself in the bushes of the bank—There, he has disappeared in the
shadows of the trees! You have got your friend, and we are all safe!”

The two men now made another great effort, pulled the Ark up swiftly to
the grapnel, tripped it, and when the scow had shot some distance and lost
its way, they let the anchor drop again. Then, for the first time since
their meeting, they ceased their efforts. As the floating house now lay
several hundred feet from the shore, and offered a complete protection
against bullets, there was no longer any danger or any motive for
immediate exertion.

The manner in which the two friends now recognized each other, was highly
characteristic. Chingachgook, a noble, tall, handsome and athletic young
Indian warrior, first examined his rifle with care, opening the pan to
make sure that the priming was not wet, and, assured of this important
fact, he next cast furtive but observant glances around him, at the
strange habitation and at the two girls. Still he spoke not, and most of
all did he avoid the betrayal of a womanish curiosity, by asking
questions.

“Judith and Hetty” said Deerslayer, with an untaught, natural courtesy—“this
is the Mohican chief of whom you’ve heard me speak; Chingachgook as he is
called; which signifies Big Sarpent; so named for his wisdom and prudence,
and cunning, and my ‘arliest and latest fri’nd. I know’d it must be he, by
the hawk’s feather over the left ear, most other warriors wearing ’em on
the war-lock.”

As Deerslayer ceased speaking, he laughed heartily, excited more perhaps
by the delight of having got his friend safe at his side, under
circumstances so trying, than by any conceit that happened to cross his
fancy, and exhibiting this outbreaking of feeling in a manner that was a
little remarkable, since his merriment was not accompanied by any noise.
Although Chingachgook both understood and spoke English, he was unwilling
to communicate his thoughts in it, like most Indians, and when he had met
Judith’s cordial shake of the hand, and Hetty’s milder salute, in the
courteous manner that became a chief, he turned away, apparently to await
the moment when it might suit his friend to enter into an explanation of
his future intentions, and to give a narrative of what had passed since
their separation. The other understood his meaning, and discovered his own
mode of reasoning in the matter, by addressing the girls.

“This wind will soon die away altogether, now the sun is down,” he said,
“and there is no need for rowing ag’in it. In half an hour, or so, it will
either be a flat calm, or the air will come off from the south shore, when
we will begin our journey back ag’in to the castle; in the meanwhile, the
Delaware and I will talk over matters, and get correct idees of each
other’s notions consarning the course we ought to take.”

No one opposed this proposition, and the girls withdrew into the cabin to
prepare the evening meal, while the two young men took their seats on the
head of the scow and began to converse. The dialogue was in the language
of the Delawares. As that dialect, however, is but little understood, even
by the learned; we shall not only on this, but on all subsequent occasions
render such parts as it may be necessary to give closely, into liberal
English; preserving, as far as possible, the idiom and peculiarities of
the respective speakers, by way of presenting the pictures in the most
graphic forms to the minds of the readers.

It is unnecessary to enter into the details first related by Deerslayer,
who gave a brief narrative of the facts that are already familiar to those
who have read our pages. In relating these events, however, it may be well
to say that the speaker touched only on the outlines, more particularly
abstaining from saying anything about his encounter with, and victory over
the Iroquois, as well as to his own exertions in behalf of the two
deserted young women. When Deerslayer ended, the Delaware took up the
narrative, in turn, speaking sententiously and with grave dignity. His
account was both clear and short, nor was it embellished by any incidents
that did not directly concern the history of his departure from the
villages of his people, and his arrival in the valley of the Susquehannah.
On reaching the latter, which was at a point only half a mile south of the
outlet, he had soon struck a trail, which gave him notice of the probable
vicinity of enemies. Being prepared for such an occurrence, the object of
the expedition calling him directly into the neighborhood of the party of
Iroquois that was known to be out, he considered the discovery as
fortunate, rather than the reverse, and took the usual precautions to turn
it to account. First following the river to its source, and ascertaining
the position of the rock, he met another trail, and had actually been
hovering for hours on the flanks of his enemies, watching equally for an
opportunity to meet his mistress, and to take a scalp; and it may be
questioned which he most ardently desired. He kept near the lake, and
occasionally he ventured to some spot where he could get a view of what
was passing on its surface. The Ark had been seen and watched, from the
moment it hove in sight, though the young chief was necessarily ignorant
that it was to be the instrument of his effecting the desired junction
with his friend. The uncertainty of its movements, and the fact that it
was unquestionably managed by white men, soon led him to conjecture the
truth, however, and he held himself in readiness to get on board whenever
a suitable occasion might offer. As the sun drew near the horizon he
repaired to the rock, where, on emerging from the forest, he was gratified
in finding the Ark lying, apparently in readiness to receive him. The
manner of his appearance, and of his entrance into the craft is known.

Although Chingachgook had been closely watching his enemies for hours,
their sudden and close pursuit as he reached the scow was as much a matter
of surprise to himself, as it had been to his friend. He could only
account for it by the fact of their being more numerous than he had at
first supposed, and by their having out parties of the existence of which
he was ignorant. Their regular, and permanent encampment, if the word
permanent can be applied to the residence of a party that intended to
remain out, in all probability, but a few weeks, was not far from the spot
where Hutter and Hurry had fallen into their hands, and, as a matter of
course, near a spring.

“Well, Sarpent,” asked Deerslayer, when the other had ended his brief but
spirited narrative, speaking always in the Delaware tongue, which for the
reader’s convenience only we render into the peculiar vernacular of the
speaker—“Well, Sarpent, as you’ve been scouting around these Mingos,
have you anything to tell us of their captyves, the father of these young
women, and of another, who, I somewhat conclude, is the lovyer of one of
’em.”

“Chingachgook has seen them. An old man, and a young warrior—the
falling hemlock and the tall pine.”

“You’re not so much out, Delaware; you’re not so much out. Old Hutter is
decaying, of a sartainty, though many solid blocks might be hewn out of
his trunk yet, and, as for Hurry Harry, so far as height and strength and
comeliness go, he may be called the pride of the human forest. Were the
men bound, or in any manner suffering torture? I ask on account of the
young women, who, I dare to say, would be glad to know.”

“It is not so, Deerslayer. The Mingos are too many to cage their game.
Some watch; some sleep; some scout; some hunt. The pale-faces are treated
like brothers to-day; to-morrow they will lose their scalps.”

“Yes, that’s red natur’, and must be submitted to! Judith and Hetty,
here’s comforting tidings for you, the Delaware telling me that neither
your father nor Hurry Harry is in suffering, but, bating the loss of
liberty, as well off as we are ourselves. Of course they are kept in the
camp; otherwise they do much as they please.”

“I rejoice to hear this, Deerslayer,” returned Judith, “and now we are
joined by your friend, I make no manner of question that we shall find an
opportunity to ransom the prisoners. If there are any women in the camp, I
have articles of dress that will catch their eyes, and, should the worst
come to the worst, we can open the great chest, which I think will be
found to hold things that may tempt the chiefs.”

“Judith,” said the young man, looking up at her with a smile and an
expression of earnest curiosity, that in spite of the growing obscurity
did not escape the watchful looks of the girl, “can you find it in your
heart, to part with your own finery, to release prisoners; even though one
be your own father, and the other is your sworn suitor and lovyer?”

The flush on the face of the girl arose in part from resentment, but more
perhaps from a gentler and a novel feeling, that, with the capricious
waywardness of taste, had been rapidly rendering her more sensitive to the
good opinion of the youth who questioned her, than to that of any other
person. Suppressing the angry sensation, with instinctive quickness, she
answered with a readiness and truth, that caused her sister to draw near
to listen, though the obtuse intellect of the latter was far from
comprehending the workings of a heart as treacherous, as uncertain, and as
impetuous in its feelings, as that of the spoiled and flattered beauty.

“Deerslayer,” answered Judith, after a moment’s pause, “I shall be honest
with you. I confess that the time has been when what you call finery, was
to me the dearest thing on earth; but I begin to feel differently. Though
Hurry Harry is nought to me nor ever can be, I would give all I own to set
him free. If I would do this for blustering, bullying, talking Hurry, who
has nothing but good looks to recommend him, you may judge what I would do
for my own father.”

“This sounds well, and is according to woman’s gifts. Ah’s, me! The same
feelin’s is to be found among the young women of the Delawares. I’ve known
’em, often and often, sacrifice their vanity to their hearts. Tis as it
should be—’tis as it should be I suppose, in both colours. Woman was
created for the feelin’s, and is pretty much ruled by feelin’.”

“Would the savages let father go, if Judith and I give them all our best
things?” demanded Hetty, in her innocent, mild, manner.

“Their women might interfere, good Hetty; yes, their women might interfere
with such an ind in view. But, tell me, Sarpent, how is it as to squaws
among the knaves; have they many of their own women in the camp?”

The Delaware heard and understood all that passed, though with Indian
gravity and finesse he had sat with averted face, seemingly inattentive to
a discourse in which he had no direct concern. Thus appealed to, however,
he answered his friend in his ordinary sententious manner.

“Six—” he said, holding up all the fingers of one hand, and the
thumb of the other, “besides this.” The last number denoted his betrothed,
whom, with the poetry and truth of nature, he described by laying his hand
on his own heart.

“Did you see her, chief—did you get a glimpse of her pleasant
countenance, or come close enough to her ear, to sing in it the song she
loves to hear?”

“No, Deerslayer—the trees were too many, and leaves covered their
boughs like clouds hiding the heavens in a storm. But”—and the young
warrior turned his dark face towards his friend, with a smile on it that
illuminated its fierce-looking paint and naturally stern lineaments with a
bright gleam of human feeling, “Chingachgook heard the laugh of
Wah-ta-Wah, and knew it from the laugh of the women of the Iroquois. It
sounded in his ears, like the chirp of the wren.”

“Ay, trust a lovyer’s ear for that, and a Delaware’s ear for all sounds
that are ever heard in the woods. I know not why it is so, Judith, but
when young men—and I dares to say it may be all the same with young
women, too—but when they get to have kind feelin’s towards each
other, it’s wonderful how pleasant the laugh, or the speech becomes, to
the other person. I’ve seen grim warriors listening to the chattering and
the laughing of young gals, as if it was church music, such as is heard in
the old Dutch church that stands in the great street of Albany, where I’ve
been, more than once, with peltry and game.”

“And you, Deerslayer,” said Judith quickly, and with more sensibility than
marked her usually light and thoughtless manner,—“have you never
felt how pleasant it is to listen to the laugh of the girl you love?”

“Lord bless you gal!—Why I’ve never lived enough among my own colour
to drop into them sort of feelin’s,—no never! I dares to say, they
are nat’ral and right, but to me there’s no music so sweet as the sighing
of the wind in the tree tops, and the rippling of a stream from a full,
sparkling, natyve fountain of pure forest water—unless, indeed,” he
continued, dropping his head for an instant in a thoughtful manner—“unless
indeed it be the open mouth of a sartain hound, when I’m on the track of a
fat buck. As for unsartain dogs, I care little for their cries, seein’
they are as likely to speak when the deer is not in sight, as when it is.”

Judith walked slowly and pensively away, nor was there any of her ordinary
calculating coquetry in the light tremulous sigh that, unconsciously to
herself, arose to her lips. On the other hand Hetty listened with
guileless attention, though it struck her simple mind as singular that the
young man should prefer the melody of the woods, to the songs of girls, or
even to the laugh of innocence and joy. Accustomed, however, to defer in
most things to her sister, she soon followed Judith into the cabin, where
she took a seat and remained pondering intensely over some occurrence, or
resolution, or opinion—which was a secret to all but herself. Left
alone, Deerslayer and his friend resumed their discourse.

“Has the young pale-face hunter been long on this lake?” demanded the
Delaware, after courteously waiting for the other to speak first.

“Only since yesterday noon, Sarpent, though that has been long enough to
see and do much.” The gaze that the Indian fastened on his companion was
so keen that it seemed to mock the gathering darkness of the night. As the
other furtively returned his look, he saw the two black eyes glistening on
him, like the balls of the panther, or those of the penned wolf. He
understood the meaning of this glowing gaze, and answered evasively, as he
fancied would best become the modesty of a white man’s gifts.

“’Tis as you suspect, Sarpent; yes, ’tis somewhat that-a-way. I have fell
in with the inimy, and I suppose it may be said I’ve fou’t them, too.”

An exclamation of delight and exultation escaped the Indian, and then
laying his hand eagerly on the arm of his friend, he asked if there were
any scalps taken.

“That I will maintain in the face of all the Delaware tribe, old Tamenund,
and your own father the great Uncas, as well as the rest, is ag’in white
gifts! My scalp is on my head, as you can see, Sarpent, and that was the
only scalp that was in danger, when one side was altogether Christian and
white.”

“Did no warrior fall?—Deerslayer did not get his name by being slow
of sight, or clumsy with the rifle!”

“In that particular, chief, you’re nearer reason, and therefore nearer
being right. I may say one Mingo fell.”

“A chief!” demanded the other with startling vehemence.

“Nay, that’s more than I know, or can say. He was artful, and treacherous,
and stout-hearted, and may well have gained popularity enough with his
people to be named to that rank. The man fou’t well, though his eye
was’n’t quick enough for one who had had his schooling in your company,
Delaware.”

“My brother and friend struck the body?”

“That was uncalled for, seeing that the Mingo died in my arms. The truth
may as well be said, at once; he fou’t like a man of red gifts, and I
fou’t like a man with gifts of my own colour. God gave me the victory; I
coul’n’t fly in the face of his Providence by forgetting my birth and
natur’. White he made me, and white I shall live and die.”

“Good! Deerslayer is a pale-face, and has pale-face hands. A Delaware will
look for the scalp, and hang it on a pole, and sing a song in his honour,
when we go back to our people. The glory belongs to the tribe; it must not
be lost.”

“This is easy talking, but ’twill not be as easy doing. The Mingo’s body
is in the hands of his fri’nds and, no doubt, is hid in some hole where
Delaware cunning will never be able to get at the scalp.”

The young man then gave his friend a succinct, but clear account, of the
event of the morning, concealing nothing of any moment, and yet touching
on every thing modestly and with a careful attention to avoid the Indian
habit of boasting. Chingachgook again expressed his satisfaction at the
honour won by his friend, and then both arose, the hour having arrived
when it became prudent to move the Ark further from the land.

It was now quite dark, the heavens having become clouded, and the stars
hid. The north wind had ceased—as was usual with the setting of the
sun, and a light air arose from the south. This change favoring the design
of Deerslayer, he lifted his grapnel, and the scow immediately and quite
perceptibly began to drift more into the lake. The sail was set, when the
motion of the craft increased to a rate not much less than two miles in
the hour. As this superseded the necessity of rowing, an occupation that
an Indian would not be likely to desire, Deerslayer, Chingachgook and
Judith seated themselves in the stern of the scow, where they first
governed its movements by holding the oar. Here they discoursed on their
future movements, and on the means that ought to be used in order to
effect the liberation of their friends.

In this dialogue Judith held a material part, the Delaware readily
understanding all she said, while his own replies and remarks, both of
which were few and pithy, were occasionally rendered into English by his
friend. Judith rose greatly in the estimation of her companions, in the
half hour that followed. Prompt of resolution and firm of purpose, her
suggestions and expedients partook of her spirit and sagacity, both of
which were of a character to find favor with men of the frontier. The
events that had occurred since their meeting, as well as her isolated and
dependant situation, induced the girl to feel towards Deerslayer like the
friend of a year instead of an acquaintance of a day, and so completely
had she been won by his guileless truth of character and of feeling, pure
novelties in our sex, as respected her own experience, that his
peculiarities excited her curiosity, and created a confidence that had
never been awakened by any other man. Hitherto she had been compelled to
stand on the defensive in her intercourse with men, with what success was
best known to herself, but here had she been suddenly thrown into the
society and under the protection of a youth, who evidently as little
contemplated evil towards herself as if he had been her brother. The
freshness of his integrity, the poetry and truth of his feelings, and even
the quaintness of his forms of speech, all had their influence, and aided
in awakening an interest that she found as pure as it was sudden and deep.
Hurry’s fine face and manly form had never compensated for his boisterous
and vulgar tone, and her intercourse with the officers had prepared her to
make comparisons under which even his great natural advantages suffered.
But this very intercourse with the officers who occasionally came upon the
lake to fish and hunt, had an effect in producing her present sentiments
towards the young stranger. With them, while her vanity had been
gratified, and her self-love strongly awakened, she had many causes deeply
to regret the acquaintance—if not to mourn over it, in secret sorrow—for
it was impossible for one of her quick intellect not to perceive how
hollow was the association between superior and inferior, and that she was
regarded as the play thing of an idle hour, rather than as an equal and a
friend, by even the best intentioned and least designing of her
scarlet-clad admirers. Deerslayer, on the other hand, had a window in his
breast through which the light of his honesty was ever shining; and even
his indifference to charms that so rarely failed to produce a sensation,
piqued the pride of the girl, and gave him an interest that another,
seemingly more favored by nature, might have failed to excite.

In this manner half an hour passed, during which time the Ark had been
slowly stealing over the water, the darkness thickening around it; though
it was easy to see that the gloom of the forest at the southern end of the
lake was getting to be distant, while the mountains that lined the sides
of the beautiful basin were overshadowing it, nearly from side to side.
There was, indeed, a narrow stripe of water, in the centre of the lake
where the dim light that was still shed from the heavens, fell upon its
surface in a line extending north and south; and along this faint track, a
sort of inverted milky way, in which the obscurity was not quite as dense
as in other places, the scow held her course, he who steered well knowing
that it led in the direction he wished to go. The reader is not to
suppose, however, that any difficulty could exist as to the course. This
would have been determined by that of the air, had it not been possible to
distinguish the mountains, as well as by the dim opening to the south,
which marked the position of the valley in that quarter, above the plain
of tall trees, by a sort of lessened obscurity; the difference between the
darkness of the forest, and that of the night, as seen only in the air.
The peculiarities at length caught the attention of Judith and the
Deerslayer, and the conversation ceased, to allow each to gaze at the
solemn stillness and deep repose of nature.

“’Tis a gloomy night—” observed the girl, after a pause of several
minutes—“I hope we may be able to find the castle.”

“Little fear of our missing that, if we keep this path in the middle of
the lake,” returned the young man. “Natur’ has made us a road here, and,
dim as it is, there’ll be little difficulty following it.”

“Do you hear nothing, Deerslayer?—It seemed as if the water was
stirring quite near us!”

“Sartainly something did move the water, oncommon like; must have been a
fish. Them creatur’s prey upon each other like men and animals on the
land; one has leaped into the air and fallen hard, back into his own
element. ‘Tis of little use Judith, for any to strive to get out of their
elements, since it’s natur’ to stay in ’em, and natur’ will have its way.
Ha! That sounds like a paddle, used with more than common caution!”

At this moment the Delaware bent forward and pointed significantly into
the boundary of gloom, as if some object had suddenly caught his eye. Both
Deerslayer and Judith followed the direction of his gesture, and each got
a view of a canoe at the same instant. The glimpse of this startling
neighbor was dim, and to eyes less practised it might have been uncertain,
though to those in the Ark the object was evidently a canoe with a single
individual in it; the latter standing erect and paddling. How many lay
concealed in its bottom, of course could not be known. Flight, by means of
oars, from a bark canoe impelled by vigorous and skilful hands, was
utterly impracticable, and each of the men seized his rifle in expectation
of a conflict.

“I can easily bring down the paddler,” whispered Deerslayer, “but we’ll
first hail him, and ask his arrn’d.” Then raising his voice, he continued
in a solemn manner—“hold! If ye come nearer, I must fire, though
contrary to my wishes, and then sartain death will follow. Stop paddling,
and answer.”

“Fire, and slay a poor defenseless girl,” returned a soft tremulous female
voice. “And God will never forgive you! Go your way, Deerslayer, and let
me go mine.”

“Hetty!” exclaimed the young man and Judith in a breath; and the former
sprang instantly to the spot where he had left the canoe they had been
towing. It was gone, and he understood the whole affair. As for the
fugitive, frightened at the menace she ceased paddling, and remained dimly
visible, resembling a spectral outline of a human form, standing on the
water. At the next moment the sail was lowered, to prevent the Ark from
passing the spot where the canoe lay. This last expedient, however, was
not taken in time, for the momentum of so heavy a craft, and the impulsion
of the air, soon set her by, bringing Hetty directly to windward, though
still visible, as the change in the positions of the two boats now placed
her in that species of milky way which has been mentioned.

“What can this mean, Judith?” demanded Deerslayer—“Why has your
sister taken the canoe, and left us?”

“You know she is feeble-minded, poor girl!—and she has her own ideas
of what ought to be done. She loves her father more than most children
love their parents—and—then—”

“Then, what, gal? This is a trying moment; one in which truth must be
spoken!”

Judith felt a generous and womanly regret at betraying her sister, and she
hesitated ere she spoke again. But once more urged by Deerslayer, and
conscious herself of all the risks the whole party was running by the
indiscretion of Hetty, she could refrain no longer.

“Then, I fear, poor, weak-minded Hetty has not been altogether able to see
all the vanity, and rudeness and folly, that lie hid behind the handsome
face and fine form of Hurry Harry. She talks of him in her sleep, and
sometimes betrays the inclination in her waking moments.”

“You think, Judith, that your sister is now bent on some mad scheme to
serve her father and Hurry, which will, in all likelihood, give them
riptyles the Mingos, the mastership of a canoe?”

“Such, I fear, will turn out to be the fact, Deerslayer. Poor Hetty has
hardly sufficient cunning to outwit a savage.”

All this while the canoe, with the form of Hetty erect in one end of it,
was dimly perceptible, though the greater drift of the Ark rendered it, at
each instant, less and less distinct. It was evident no time was to be
lost, lest it should altogether disappear. The rifles were now laid aside
as useless, the two men seizing the oars and sweeping the head of the scow
round in the direction of the canoe. Judith, accustomed to the office,
flew to the other end of the Ark, and placed herself at what might be
called the helm. Hetty took the alarm at these preparations, which could
not be made without noise, and started off like a bird that had been
suddenly put up by the approach of unexpected danger.

As Deerslayer and his companion rowed with the energy of those who felt
the necessity of straining every nerve, and Hetty’s strength was impaired
by a nervous desire to escape, the chase would have quickly terminated in
the capture of the fugitive, had not the girl made several short and
unlooked-for deviations in her course. These turnings gave her time, and
they had also the effect of gradually bringing both canoe and Ark within
the deeper gloom, cast by the shadows from the hills. They also gradually
increased the distance between the fugitive and her pursuers, until Judith
called out to her companions to cease rowing, for she had completely lost
sight of the canoe.

When this mortifying announcement was made, Hetty was actually so near as
to understand every syllable her sister uttered, though the latter had
used the precaution of speaking as low as circumstances would allow her to
do, and to make herself heard. Hetty stopped paddling at the same moment,
and waited the result with an impatience that was breathless, equally from
her late exertions, and her desire to land. A dead silence immediately
fell on the lake, during which the three in the Ark were using their
senses differently, in order to detect the position of the canoe. Judith
bent forward to listen, in the hope of catching some sound that might
betray the direction in which her sister was stealing away, while her two
companions brought their eyes as near as possible to a level with the
water, in order to detect any object that might be floating on its
surface. All was vain, however, for neither sound nor sight rewarded their
efforts. All this time Hetty, who had not the cunning to sink into the
canoe, stood erect, a finger pressed on her lips, gazing in the direction
in which the voices had last been heard, resembling a statue of profound
and timid attention. Her ingenuity had barely sufficed to enable her to
seize the canoe and to quit the Ark, in the noiseless manner related, and
then it appeared to be momentarily exhausted. Even the doublings of the
canoe had been as much the consequence of an uncertain hand and of nervous
agitation, as of any craftiness or calculation.

The pause continued several minutes, during which Deerslayer and the
Delaware conferred together in the language of the latter. Then the oars
dipped, again, and the Ark moved away, rowing with as little noise as
possible. It steered westward, a little southerly, or in the direction of
the encampment of the enemy. Having reached a point at no great distance
from the shore, and where the obscurity was intense on account of the
proximity of the land, it lay there near an hour, in waiting for the
expected approach of Hetty, who, it was thought, would make the best of
her way to that spot as soon as she believed herself released from the
danger of pursuit. No success rewarded this little blockade, however,
neither appearance nor sound denoting the passage of the canoe.
Disappointed at this failure, and conscious of the importance of getting
possession of the fortress before it could be seized by the enemy,
Deerslayer now took his way towards the castle, with the apprehension that
all his foresight in securing the canoes would be defeated by this
unguarded and alarming movement on the part of the feeble-minded Hetty.


Chapter X.

Fear, as much as calculation, had induced Hetty to cease paddling, when
she found that her pursuers did not know in which direction to proceed.
She remained stationary until the Ark had pulled in near the encampment,
as has been related in the preceding chapter, when she resumed the paddle
and with cautious strokes made the best of her way towards the western
shore. In order to avoid her pursuers, however, who, she rightly
suspected, would soon be rowing along that shore themselves, the head of
the canoe was pointed so far north as to bring her to land on a point that
thrust itself into the lake, at the distance of near a league from the
outlet. Nor was this altogether the result of a desire to escape, for,
feeble minded as she was, Hetty Hutter had a good deal of that instinctive
caution which so often keeps those whom God has thus visited from harm.
She was perfectly aware of the importance of keeping the canoes from
falling into the hands of the Iroquois, and long familiarity with the lake
had suggested one of the simplest expedients, by which this great object
could be rendered compatible with her own purpose.

The point in question was the first projection that offered on that side
of the lake, where a canoe, if set adrift with a southerly air would float
clear of the land, and where it would be no great violation of
probabilities to suppose it might even hit the castle; the latter lying
above it, almost in a direct line with the wind. Such then was Hetty’s
intention, and she landed on the extremity of the gravelly point, beneath
an overhanging oak, with the express intention of shoving the canoe off
from the shore, in order that it might drift up towards her father’s
insulated abode. She knew, too, from the logs that occasionally floated
about the lake, that did it miss the castle and its appendages the wind
would be likely to change before the canoe could reach the northern
extremity of the lake, and that Deerslayer might have an opportunity of
regaining it in the morning, when no doubt he would be earnestly sweeping
the surface of the water, and the whole of its wooded shores, with glass.
In all this, too, Hetty was less governed by any chain of reasoning than
by her habits, the latter often supplying the place of mind, in human
beings, as they perform the same for animals of the inferior classes.

The girl was quite an hour finding her way to the point, the distance and
the obscurity equally detaining her, but she was no sooner on the gravelly
beach than she prepared to set the canoe adrift, in the manner mentioned.
While in the act of pushing it from her, she heard low voices that seemed
to come among the trees behind her. Startled at this unexpected danger
Hetty was on the point of springing into the canoe in order to seek safety
in flight, when she thought she recognized the tones of Judith’s melodious
voice. Bending forward so as to catch the sounds more directly, they
evidently came from the water, and then she understood that the Ark was
approaching from the south, and so close in with the western shore, as
necessarily to cause it to pass the point within twenty yards of the spot
where she stood. Here, then, was all she could desire; the canoe was
shoved off into the lake, leaving its late occupant alone on the narrow
strand.

When this act of self-devotion was performed, Hetty did not retire. The
foliage of the overhanging trees and bushes would have almost concealed
her person, had there been light, but in that obscurity it was utterly
impossible to discover any object thus shaded, at the distance of a few
feet. Flight, too, was perfectly easy, as twenty steps would effectually
bury her in the forest. She remained, therefore, watching with intense
anxiety the result of her expedient, intending to call the attention of
the others to the canoe with her voice, should they appear to pass without
observing it. The Ark approached under its sail, again, Deerslayer
standing in its bow, with Judith near him, and the Delaware at the helm.
It would seem that in the bay below it had got too close to the shore, in
the lingering hope of intercepting Hetty, for, as it came nearer, the
latter distinctly heard the directions that the young man forward gave to
his companion aft, in order to clear the point.

“Lay her head more off the shore, Delaware,” said Deerslayer for the third
time, speaking in English that his fair companion might understand his
words—“Lay her head well off shore. We have got embayed here, and
needs keep the mast clear of the trees. Judith, there’s a canoe!”

The last words were uttered with great earnestness, and Deerslayer’s hand
was on his rifle ere they were fairly out of his mouth. But the truth
flashed on the mind of the quick-witted girl, and she instantly told her
companion that the boat must be that in which her sister had fled.

“Keep the scow straight, Delaware; steer as straight as your bullet flies
when sent ag’in a buck; there—I have it.”

The canoe was seized, and immediately secured again to the side of the
Ark. At the next moment the sail was lowered, and the motion of the Ark
arrested by means of the oars.

“Hetty!” called out Judith, concern, even affection betraying itself in
her tones. “Are you within hearing, sister—for God’s sake answer,
and let me hear the sound of your voice, again! Hetty!—dear Hetty.”

“I’m here, Judith—here on the shore, where it will be useless to
follow me, as I will hide in the woods.”

“Oh! Hetty what is’t you do! Remember ’tis drawing near midnight, and that
the woods are filled with savages and wild beasts!”

“Neither will harm a poor half-witted girl, Judith. God is as much with
me, here, as he would be in the Ark or in the hut. I am going to help my
father, and poor Hurry Harry, who will be tortured and slain unless some
one cares for them.”

“We all care for them, and intend to-morrow to send them a flag of truce,
to buy their ransom. Come back then, sister; trust to us, who have better
heads than you, and who will do all we can for father.”

“I know your head is better than mine, Judith, for mine is very weak, to
be sure; but I must go to father and poor Hurry. Do you and Deerslayer
keep the castle, sister; leave me in the hands of God.”

“God is with us all, Hetty—in the castle, or on the shore—father
as well as ourselves, and it is sinful not to trust to his goodness. You
can do nothing in the dark; will lose your way in the forest, and perish
for want of food.”

“God will not let that happen to a poor child that goes to serve her
father, sister. I must try and find the savages.”

“Come back for this night only; in the morning, we will put you ashore,
and leave you to do as you may think right.”

“You say so, Judith, and you think so; but you would not. Your heart would
soften, and you’d see tomahawks and scalping knives in the air. Besides,
I’ve got a thing to tell the Indian chief that will answer all our wishes,
and I’m afraid I may forget it, if I don’t tell it to him at once. You’ll
see that he will let father go, as soon as he hears it!”

“Poor Hetty! What can you say to a ferocious savage that will be likely to
change his bloody purpose!”

“That which will frighten him, and make him let father go—” returned
the simple-minded girl, positively. “You’ll see, sister; you’ll see, how
soon it will bring him to, like a gentle child!”

“Will you tell me, Hetty, what you intend to say?” asked Deerslayer. “I
know the savages well, and can form some idee how far fair words will be
likely, or not, to work on their bloody natur’s. If it’s not suited to the
gifts of a red-skin, ’twill be of no use; for reason goes by gifts, as
well as conduct.”

“Well, then,” answered Hetty, dropping her voice to a low, confidential,
tone, for the stillness of the night, and the nearness of the Ark,
permitted her to do this and still to be heard—“Well, then,
Deerslayer, as you seem a good and honest young man I will tell you. I
mean not to say a word to any of the savages until I get face to face with
their head chief, let them plague me with as many questions as they please
I’ll answer none of them, unless it be to tell them to lead me to their
wisest man—Then, Deerslayer, I’ll tell him that God will not forgive
murder, and thefts; and that if father and Hurry did go after the scalps
of the Iroquois, he must return good for evil, for so the Bible commands,
else he will go into everlasting punishment. When he hears this, and feels
it to be true, as feel it he must, how long will it be before he sends
father, and Hurry, and me to the shore, opposite the castle, telling us
all three to go our way in peace?”

The last question was put in a triumphant manner, and then the
simple-minded girl laughed at the impression she never doubted that her
project had made on her auditors. Deerslayer was dumb-founded at this
proof of guileless feebleness of mind, but Judith had suddenly bethought
her of a means of counteracting this wild project, by acting on the very
feelings that had given it birth. Without adverting to the closing
question, or the laugh, therefore, she hurriedly called to her sister by
name, as one suddenly impressed with the importance of what she had to
say. But no answer was given to the call.

By the snapping of twigs, and the rustling of leaves, Hetty had evidently
quitted the shore, and was already burying herself in the forest. To
follow would have been fruitless, since the darkness, as well as the dense
cover that the woods everywhere offered, would have rendered her capture
next to impossible, and there was also the never ceasing danger of falling
into the hands of their enemies. After a short and melancholy discussion,
therefore, the sail was again set, and the Ark pursued its course towards
its habitual moorings, Deerslayer silently felicitating himself on the
recovery of the canoe, and brooding over his plans for the morrow. The
wind rose as the party quitted the point, and in less than an hour they
reached the castle. Here all was found as it had been left, and the
reverse of the ceremonies had to be taken in entering the building, that
had been used on quitting it. Judith occupied a solitary bed that night
bedewing the pillow with her tears, as she thought of the innocent and
hitherto neglected creature, who had been her companion from childhood,
and bitter regrets came over her mind, from more causes than one, as the
weary hours passed away, making it nearly morning before she lost her
recollection in sleep. Deerslayer and the Delaware took their rest in the
Ark, where we shall leave them enjoying the deep sleep of the honest, the
healthful and fearless, to return to the girl we have last seen in the
midst of the forest.

When Hetty left the shore, she took her way unhesitatingly into the woods,
with a nervous apprehension of being followed. Luckily, this course was
the best she could have hit on to effect her own purpose, since it was the
only one that led her from the point. The night was so intensely dark,
beneath the branches of the trees, that her progress was very slow, and
the direction she went altogether a matter of chance, after the first few
yards. The formation of the ground, however, did not permit her to deviate
far from the line in which she desired to proceed. On one hand it was soon
bounded by the acclivity of the hill, while the lake, on the other, served
as a guide. For two hours did this single-hearted and simple-minded girl
toil through the mazes of the forest, sometimes finding herself on the
brow of the bank that bounded the water, and at others struggling up an
ascent that warned her to go no farther in that direction, since it
necessarily ran at right angles to the course on which she wished to
proceed. Her feet often slid from beneath her, and she got many falls,
though none to do her injury; but, by the end of the period mentioned, she
had become so weary as to want strength to go any farther. Rest was
indispensable, and she set about preparing a bed, with the readiness and
coolness of one to whom the wilderness presented no unnecessary terrors.
She knew that wild beasts roamed through all the adjacent forest, but
animals that preyed on the human species were rare, and of dangerous
serpents there were literally none. These facts had been taught her by her
father, and whatever her feeble mind received at all, it received so
confidingly as to leave her no uneasiness from any doubts, or scepticism.
To her the sublimity of the solitude in which she was placed, was
soothing, rather than appalling, and she gathered a bed of leaves, with as
much indifference to the circumstances that would have driven the thoughts
of sleep entirely from the minds of most of her sex, as if she had been
preparing her place of nightly rest beneath the paternal roof. As soon as
Hetty had collected a sufficient number of the dried leaves to protect her
person from the damps of the ground, she kneeled beside the humble pile,
clasped her raised hands in an attitude of deep devotion, and in a soft,
low, but audible voice repeated the Lord’s Prayer. This was followed by
those simple and devout verses, so familiar to children, in which she
recommended her soul to God, should it be called away to another state of
existence, ere the return of morning. This duty done, she lay down and
disposed herself to sleep. The attire of the girl, though suited to the
season, was sufficiently warm for all ordinary purposes, but the forest is
ever cool, and the nights of that elevated region of country, have always
a freshness about them, that renders clothing more necessary than is
commonly the case in the summers of a low latitude. This had been foreseen
by Hetty, who had brought with her a coarse heavy mantle, which, when laid
over her body, answered all the useful purposes of a blanket. Thus
protected, she dropped asleep in a few minutes, as tranquilly as if
watched over by the guardian care of that mother, who had so recently been
taken from her forever, affording in this particular a most striking
contrast between her own humble couch, and the sleepless pillow of her
sister.

Hour passed after hour, in a tranquility as undisturbed and a rest as
sweet as if angels, expressly commissioned for that object, watched around
the bed of Hetty Hutter. Not once did her soft eyes open, until the grey
of the dawn came struggling through the tops of the trees, falling on
their lids, and, united to the freshness of a summer’s morning, giving the
usual summons to awake. Ordinarily, Hetty was up ere the rays of the sun
tipped the summits of the mountains, but on this occasion her fatigue had
been so great, and her rest was so profound, that the customary warnings
failed of their effect. The girl murmured in her sleep, threw an arm
forward, smiled as gently as an infant in its cradle, but still slumbered.
In making this unconscious gesture, her hand fell on some object that was
warm, and in the half unconscious state in which she lay, she connected
the circumstance with her habits. At the next moment, a rude attack was
made on her side, as if a rooting animal were thrusting its snout beneath,
with a desire to force her position, and then, uttering the name of
“Judith” she awoke. As the startled girl arose to a sitting attitude she
perceived that some dark object sprang from her, scattering the leaves and
snapping the fallen twigs in its haste. Opening her eyes, and recovering
from the first confusion and astonishment of her situation, Hetty
perceived a cub, of the common American brown bear, balancing itself on
its hinder legs, and still looking towards her, as if doubtful whether it
would be safe to trust itself near her person again. The first impulse of
Hetty, who had been mistress of several of these cubs, was to run and
seize the little creature as a prize, but a loud growl warned her of the
danger of such a procedure. Recoiling a few steps, the girl looked
hurriedly round, and perceived the dam, watching her movements with fiery
eyes at no great distance. A hollow tree, that once been the home of bees,
having recently fallen, the mother with two more cubs was feasting on the
dainty food that this accident had placed within her reach; while the
first kept a jealous eye on the situation of its truant and reckless
young.

It would exceed all the means of human knowledge to presume to analyze the
influences that govern the acts of the lower animals. On this occasion,
the dam, though proverbially fierce when its young is thought to be in
danger, manifested no intention to attack the girl. It quitted the honey,
and advanced to a place within twenty feet of her, where it raised itself
on its hind legs and balanced its body in a sort of angry, growling
discontent, but approached no nearer. Happily, Hetty did not fly. On the
contrary, though not without terror, she knelt with her face towards the
animal, and with clasped hands and uplifted eyes, repeated the prayer of
the previous night. This act of devotion was not the result of alarm, but
it was a duty she never neglected to perform ere she slept, and when the
return of consciousness awoke her to the business of the day. As the girl
arose from her knees, the bear dropped on its feet again, and collecting
its cubs around her, permitted them to draw their natural sustenance.
Hetty was delighted with this proof of tenderness in an animal that has
but a very indifferent reputation for the gentler feelings, and as a cub
would quit its mother to frisk and leap about in wantonness, she felt a
strong desire again to catch it up in her arms, and play with it. But
admonished by the growl, she had self-command sufficient not to put this
dangerous project in execution, and recollecting her errand among the
hills, she tore herself away from the group, and proceeded on her course
along the margin of the lake, of which she now caught glimpses again
through the trees. To her surprise, though not to her alarm, the family of
bears arose and followed her steps, keeping a short distance behind her;
apparently watching every movement as if they had a near interest in all
she did.

In this manner, escorted by the dam and cubs, the girl proceeded nearly a
mile, thrice the distance she had been able to achieve in the darkness,
during the same period of time. She then reached a brook that had dug a
channel for itself into the earth, and went brawling into the lake,
between steep and high banks, covered with trees. Here Hetty performed her
ablutions; then drinking of the pure mountain water, she went her way,
refreshed and lighter of heart, still attended by her singular companions.
Her course now lay along a broad and nearly level terrace, which stretched
from the top of the bank that bounded the water, to a low acclivity that
rose to a second and irregular platform above. This was at a part of the
valley where the mountains ran obliquely, forming the commencement of a
plain that spread between the hills, southward of the sheet of water.
Hetty knew, by this circumstance, that she was getting near to the
encampment, and had she not, the bears would have given her warning of the
vicinity of human beings. Snuffing the air, the dam refused to follow any
further, though the girl looked back and invited her to come by childish
signs, and even by direct appeals made in her own sweet voice. It was
while making her way slowly through some bushes, in this manner, with
averted face and eyes riveted on the immovable animals, that the girl
suddenly found her steps arrested by a human hand, that was laid lightly
on her shoulder.

“Where go?—” said a soft female voice, speaking hurriedly, and in
concern.—“Indian—red man savage—wicked warrior—that-a-way.”

This unexpected salutation alarmed the girl no more than the presence of
the fierce inhabitants of the woods. It took her a little by surprise, it
is true, but she was in a measure prepared for some such meeting, and the
creature who stopped her was as little likely to excite terror as any who
ever appeared in the guise of an Indian. It was a girl, not much older
than herself, whose smile was sunny as Judith’s in her brightest moments,
whose voice was melody itself, and whose accents and manner had all the
rebuked gentleness that characterizes the sex among a people who
habitually treat their women as the attendants and servitors of the
warriors. Beauty among the women of the aboriginal Americans, before they
have become exposed to the hardships of wives and mothers, is by no means
uncommon. In this particular, the original owners of the country were not
unlike their more civilized successors, nature appearing to have bestowed
that delicacy of mien and outline that forms so great a charm in the
youthful female, but of which they are so early deprived; and that, too,
as much by the habits of domestic life as from any other cause.

The girl who had so suddenly arrested the steps of Hetty was dressed in a
calico mantle that effectually protected all the upper part of her person,
while a short petticoat of blue cloth edged with gold lace, that fell no
lower than her knees, leggings of the same, and moccasins of deer-skin,
completed her attire. Her hair fell in long dark braids down her shoulders
and back, and was parted above a low smooth forehead, in a way to soften
the expression of eyes that were full of archness and natural feeling. Her
face was oval, with delicate features, the teeth were even and white,
while the mouth expressed a melancholy tenderness, as if it wore this
peculiar meaning in intuitive perception of the fate of a being who was
doomed from birth to endure a woman’s sufferings, relieved by a woman’s
affections. Her voice, as has been already intimated, was soft as the
sighing of the night air, a characteristic of the females of her race, but
which was so conspicuous in herself as to have produced for her the name
of Wah-ta-Wah; which rendered into English means Hist-oh-Hist.

In a word, this was the betrothed of Chingachgook, who—having
succeeded in lulling their suspicions, was permitted to wander around the
encampment of her captors. This indulgence was in accordance with the
general policy of the red man, who well knew, moreover, that her trail
could have been easily followed in the event of flight. It will also be
remembered that the Iroquois, or Hurons, as it would be better to call
them, were entirely ignorant of the proximity of her lover, a fact,
indeed, that she did not know herself.

It is not easy to say which manifested the most self-possession at this
unexpected meeting; the pale-face, or the red girl. But, though a little
surprised, Wah-ta-Wah was the most willing to speak, and far the readier
in foreseeing consequences, as well as in devising means to avert them.
Her father, during her childhood, had been much employed as a warrior by
the authorities of the Colony, and dwelling for several years near the
forts, she had caught a knowledge of the English tongue, which she spoke
in the usual, abbreviated manner of an Indian, but fluently, and without
any of the ordinary reluctance of her people.

“Where go?—” repeated Wah-ta-Wah, returning the smile of Hetty, in
her own gentle, winning, manner—“wicked warrior that-a-way—good
warrior, far off.”

“What’s your name?” asked Hetty, with the simplicity of a child.

“Wah-ta-Wah. I no Mingo—good Delaware—Yengeese friend. Mingo
cruel, and love scalp, for blood—Delaware love him, for honor. Come
here, where no eyes.”

Wah-ta-Wah now led her companion towards the lake, descending the bank so
as to place its overhanging trees and bushes between them and any probable
observers. Nor did she stop until they were both seated, side by side, on
a fallen log, one end of which actually lay buried in the water.

“Why you come for?” the young Indian eagerly inquired—“Where you
come for?” Hetty told her tale in her own simple and truth-loving manner.
She explained the situation of her father, and stated her desire to serve
him, and if possible to procure his release.

“Why your father come to Mingo camp in night?” asked the Indian girl, with
a directness, which if not borrowed from the other, partook largely of its
sincerity. “He know it war-time, and he no boy—he no want beard—no
want to be told Iroquois carry tomahawk, and knife, and rifle. Why he come
night time, seize me by hair, and try to scalp Delaware girl?”

“You!” said Hetty, almost sickening with horror—“Did he seize you—did
he try to scalp you?”

“Why no? Delaware scalp sell for much as Mingo scalp. Governor no tell
difference. Wicked t’ing for pale-face to scalp. No his gifts, as the good
Deerslayer always tell me.”

“And do you know the Deerslayer?” said Hetty, coloring with delight and
surprise; forgetting her regrets, at the moment, in the influence of this
new feeling. “I know him, too. He is now in the Ark, with Judith and a
Delaware who is called the Big Serpent. A bold and handsome warrior is
this Serpent, too!”

Spite of the rich deep colour that nature had bestowed on the Indian
beauty, the tell-tale blood deepened on her cheeks, until the blush gave
new animation and intelligence to her jet-black eyes. Raising a finger in
an attitude of warning, she dropped her voice, already so soft and sweet,
nearly to a whisper, as she continued the discourse.

“Chingachgook!” returned the Delaware girl, sighing out the harsh name, in
sounds so softly guttural, as to cause it to reach the ear in melody—“His
father, Uncas—great chief of the Mahicanni—next to old
Tamenund!—More as warrior, not so much gray hair, and less at
Council Fire. You know Serpent?”

“He joined us last evening, and was in the Ark with me, for two or three
hours before I left it. I’m afraid, Hist—” Hetty could not pronounce
the Indian name of her new friend, but having heard Deerslayer give her
this familiar appellation, she used it without any of the ceremony of
civilized life—“I’m afraid Hist, he has come after scalps, as well
as my poor father and Hurry Harry.”

“Why he shouldn’t—ha? Chingachgook red warrior—very red—scalp
make his honor—Be sure he take him.”

“Then,” said Hetty, earnestly, “he will be as wicked as any other. God
will not pardon in a red man, what he will not pardon in a white man.

“No true—” returned the Delaware girl, with a warmth that nearly
amounted to passion. “No true, I tell you! The Manitou smile and pleased
when he see young warrior come back from the war path, with two, ten,
hundred scalp on a pole! Chingachgook father take scalp—grandfather
take scalp—all old chief take scalp, and Chingachgook take as many
scalp as he can carry, himself.”

“Then, Hist, his sleep of nights must be terrible to think of. No one can
be cruel, and hope to be forgiven.”

“No cruel—plenty forgiven—” returned Wah-ta-Wah, stamping her
little foot on the stony strand, and shaking her head in a way to show how
completely feminine feeling, in one of its aspects, had gotten the better
of feminine feeling in another. “I tell you, Serpent brave; he go home,
this time, with four,—yes—two scalp.”

“And is that his errand, here?—Did he really come all this distance,
across mountain, and valley, rivers and lakes, to torment his fellow
creatures, and do so wicked a thing?”

This question at once appeased the growing ire of the half-offended Indian
beauty. It completely got the better of the prejudices of education, and
turned all her thoughts to a gentler and more feminine channel. At first,
she looked around her, suspiciously, as if distrusting eavesdroppers; then
she gazed wistfully into the face of her attentive companion; after which
this exhibition of girlish coquetry and womanly feeling, terminated by her
covering her face with both her hands, and laughing in a strain that might
well be termed the melody of the woods. Dread of discovery, however, soon
put a stop to this naive exhibition of feeling, and removing her hands,
this creature of impulses gazed again wistfully into the face of her
companion, as if inquiring how far she might trust a stranger with her
secret. Although Hetty had no claims to her sister’s extraordinary beauty,
many thought her countenance the most winning of the two. It expressed all
the undisguised sincerity of her character, and it was totally free from
any of the unpleasant physical accompaniments that so frequently attend
mental imbecility. It is true that one accustomed to closer observations
than common, might have detected the proofs of her feebleness of intellect
in the language of her sometimes vacant eyes, but they were signs that
attracted sympathy by their total want of guile, rather than by any other
feeling. The effect on Hist, to use the English and more familiar
translation of the name, was favorable, and yielding to an impulse of
tenderness, she threw her arms around Hetty, and embraced her with an
outpouring emotion, so natural that it was only equaled by its warmth.

“You good—” whispered the young Indian—“you good, I know; it
so long since Wah-ta-Wah have a friend—a sister—any body to
speak her heart to! You Hist friend; don’t I say trut’?”

“I never had a friend,” answered Hetty returning the warm embrace with
unfeigned earnestness. “I’ve a sister, but no friend. Judith loves me, and
I love Judith; but that’s natural, and as we are taught in the Bible—but
I should like to have a friend! I’ll be your friend, with all my heart,
for I like your voice and your smile, and your way of thinking in every
thing, except about the scalps—”

“No t’ink more of him—no say more of scalp—” interrupted Hist,
soothingly—“You pale-face, I red-skin; we bring up different
fashion. Deerslayer and Chingachgook great friend, and no the same colour,
Hist and—what your name, pretty pale-face?”

“I am called Hetty, though when they spell the name in the bible, they
always spell it Esther.”

“What that make?—no good, no harm. No need to spell name at all—Moravian
try to make Wah-ta-Wah spell, but no won’t let him. No good for Delaware
girl to know too much—know more than warrior some time; that great
shame. My name Wah-ta-Wah that say Hist in your tongue; you call him, Hist—I
call him, Hetty.”

These preliminaries settled to their mutual satisfaction, the two girls
began to discourse of their several hopes and projects. Hetty made her new
friend more fully acquainted with her intentions in behalf of her father,
and, to one in the least addicted to prying into the affairs, Hist would
have betrayed her own feelings and expectations in connection with the
young warrior of her own tribe. Enough was revealed on both sides,
however, to let each party get a tolerable insight into the views of the
other, though enough still remained in mental reservation, to give rise to
the following questions and answers, with which the interview in effect
closed. As the quickest witted, Hist was the first with her
interrogatories. Folding an arm about the waist of Hetty, she bent her
head so as to look up playfully into the face of the other, and, laughing,
as if her meaning were to be extracted from her looks, she spoke more
plainly.

“Hetty got broder, as well as fader?—” she said—“Why no talk
of broder, as well as fader?”

“I have no brother, Hist. I had one once, they say, but he is dead many a
year, and lies buried in the lake, by the side of my mother.”

“No got broder—got a young warrior—Love him, almost as much as
fader, eh? Very handsome, and brave-looking; fit to be chief, if he good
as he seem to be.”

“It’s wicked to love any man as well as I love my father, and so I strive
not to do it, Hist,” returned the conscientious Hetty, who knew not how to
conceal an emotion, by an approach to an untruth as venial as an evasion,
though powerfully tempted by female shame to err, “though I sometimes
think wickedness will get the better of me, if Hurry comes so often to the
lake. I must tell you the truth, dear Hist, because you ask me, but I
should fall down and die in the woods, if he knew it!”

“Why he no ask you, himself?—Brave looking—why not bold
speaking? Young warrior ought to ask young girl, no make young girl speak
first. Mingo girls too shame for that.”

This was said indignantly, and with the generous warmth a young female of
spirit would be apt to feel, at what she deemed an invasion of her sex’s
most valued privilege. It had little influence on the simple-minded, but
also just-minded Hetty, who, though inherently feminine in all her
impulses, was much more alive to the workings of her own heart, than to
any of the usages with which convention has protected the sensitiveness of
her sex.

“Ask me what?’ the startled girl demanded, with a suddenness that proved
how completely her fears had been aroused. ‘Ask me, if I like him as well
as I do my own father! Oh! I hope he will never put such a question to me,
for I should have to answer, and that would kill me!”

“No—no—no kill, quite—almost,” returned the other,
laughing in spite of herself. “Make blush come—make shame come too;
but he no stay great while; then feel happier than ever. Young warrior
must tell young girl he want to make wife, else never can live in his
wigwam.”

“Hurry don’t want to marry me—nobody will ever want to marry me,
Hist.”

“How you can know? P’raps every body want to marry you, and by-and-bye,
tongue say what heart feel. Why nobody want to marry you?”

“I am not full witted, they say. Father often tells me this; and so does
Judith, sometimes, when she is vexed; but I shouldn’t so much mind them,
as I did mother. She said so once and then she cried as if her heart would
break; and, so, I know I’m not full witted.”

Hist gazed at the gentle, simple girl, for quite a minute without
speaking, and then the truth appeared to flash all at once on the mind of
the young Indian maid. Pity, reverence and tenderness seemed struggling
together in her breast, and then rising suddenly, she indicated a wish to
her companion that she would accompany her to the camp, which was situated
at no great distance. This unexpected change from the precautions that
Hist had previously manifested a desire to use, in order to prevent being
seen, to an open exposure of the person of her friend, arose from the
perfect conviction that no Indian would harm a being whom the Great Spirit
had disarmed, by depriving it of its strongest defence, reason. In this
respect, nearly all unsophisticated nations resemble each other, appearing
to offer spontaneously, by a feeling creditable to human nature, that
protection by their own forbearance, which has been withheld by the
inscrutable wisdom of Providence. Wah-ta-Wah, indeed, knew that in many
tribes the mentally imbecile and the mad were held in a species of
religious reverence, receiving from these untutored inhabitants of the
forest respect and honors, instead of the contumely and neglect that it is
their fortune to meet with among the more pretending and sophisticated.

Hetty accompanied her new friend without apprehension or reluctance. It
was her wish to reach the camp, and, sustained by her motives, she felt no
more concern for the consequences than did her companion herself, now the
latter was apprised of the character of the protection that the pale-face
maiden carried with her. Still, as they proceeded slowly along a shore
that was tangled with overhanging bushes, Hetty continued the discourse,
assuming the office of interrogating which the other had instantly
dropped, as soon as she ascertained the character of the mind to which her
questions had been addressed.

“But you are not half-witted,” said Hetty, “and there’s no reason why the
Serpent should not marry you.”

“Hist prisoner, and Mingo got big ear. No speak of Chingachgook when they
by. Promise Hist that, good Hetty.”

“I know—I know—” returned Hetty, half-whispering, in her
eagerness to let the other see she understood the necessity of caution. “I
know—Deerslayer and the Serpent mean to get you away from the
Iroquois, and you wish me not to tell the secret.”

“How you know?” said Hist, hastily, vexed at the moment that the other was
not even more feeble minded than was actually the case. “How you know?
Better not talk of any but fader and Hurry—Mingo understand dat; he
no understand t’udder. Promise you no talk about what you no understand.”

“But I do understand this, Hist, and so I must talk about it. Deerslayer
as good as told father all about it, in my presence, and as nobody told me
not to listen, I overheard it all, as I did Hurry and father’s discourse
about the scalps.”

“Very bad for pale-faces to talk about scalps, and very bad for young
woman to hear! Now you love Hist, I know, Hetty, and so, among Injins,
when love hardest never talk most.”

“That’s not the way among white people, who talk most about them they love
best. I suppose it’s because I’m only half-witted that I don’t see the
reason why it should be so different among red people.”

“That what Deerslayer call gift. One gift to talk; t’udder gift to hold
tongue. Hold tongue your gift, among Mingos. If Sarpent want to see Hist,
so Hetty want to see Hurry. Good girl never tell secret of friend.”

Hetty understood this appeal, and she promised the Delaware girl not to
make any allusion to the presence of Chingachgook, or to the motive of his
visit to the lake.

“Maybe he get off Hurry and fader, as well as Hist, if let him have his
way,” whispered Wah-ta-Wah to her companion, in a confiding flattering
way, just as they got near enough to the encampment to hear the voices of
several of their own sex, who were apparently occupied in the usual toils
of women of their class. “Tink of dat, Hetty, and put two, twenty finger
on mouth. No get friend free without Sarpent do it.”

A better expedient could not have been adopted, to secure the silence and
discretion of Hetty, than that which was now presented to her mind. As the
liberation of her father and the young frontier man was the great object
of her adventure, she felt the connection between it and the services of
the Delaware, and with an innocent laugh, she nodded her head, and in the
same suppressed manner, promised a due attention to the wishes of her
friend. Thus assured, Hist tarried no longer, but immediately and openly
led the way into the encampment of her captors.


Chapter XI.

That the party to which Hist compulsorily belonged was not one that was
regularly on the war path, was evident by the presence of females. It was
a small fragment of a tribe that had been hunting and fishing within the
English limits, where it was found by the commencement of hostilities,
and, after passing the winter and spring by living on what was strictly
the property of its enemies, it chose to strike a hostile blow before it
finally retired. There was also deep Indian sagacity in the manoeuvre
which had led them so far into the territory of their foes. When the
runner arrived who announced the breaking out of hostilities between the
English and French—a struggle that was certain to carry with it all
the tribes that dwelt within the influence of the respective belligerents—this
particular party of the Iroquois were posted on the shores of the Oneida,
a lake that lies some fifty miles nearer to their own frontier than that
which is the scene of our tale.

To have fled in a direct line for the Canadas would have exposed them to
the dangers of a direct pursuit, and the chiefs had determined to adopt
the expedient of penetrating deeper into a region that had now become
dangerous, in the hope of being able to retire in the rear of their
pursuers, instead of having them on their trail. The presence of the women
had induced the attempt at this ruse, the strength of these feebler
members of the party being unequal to the effort of escaping from the
pursuit of warriors. When the reader remembers the vast extent of the
American wilderness, at that early day, he will perceive that it was
possible for even a tribe to remain months undiscovered in particular
portions of it; nor was the danger of encountering a foe, the usual
precautions being observed, as great in the woods, as it is on the high
seas, in a time of active warfare.

The encampment being temporary, it offered to the eye no more than the
rude protection of a bivouac, relieved in some slight degree by the
ingenious expedients which suggested themselves to the readiness of those
who passed their lives amid similar scenes. One fire, that had been
kindled against the roots of a living oak, sufficed for the whole party;
the weather being too mild to require it for any purpose but cooking.
Scattered around this centre of attraction, were some fifteen or twenty
low huts, or perhaps kennels would be a better word, into which their
different owners crept at night, and which were also intended to meet the
exigencies of a storm.

These little huts were made of the branches of trees, put together with
some ingenuity, and they were uniformly topped with bark that had been
stripped from fallen trees; of which every virgin forest possesses
hundreds, in all stages of decay. Of furniture they had next to none.
Cooking utensils of the simplest sort were lying near the fire, a few
articles of clothing were to be seen in or around the huts, rifles, horns,
and pouches leaned against the trees, or were suspended from the lower
branches, and the carcasses of two or three deer were stretched to view on
the same natural shambles.

As the encampment was in the midst of a dense wood, the eye could not take
in its tout ensemble at a glance, but hut after hut started out of the
gloomy picture, as one gazed about him in quest of objects. There was no
centre, unless the fire might be so considered, no open area where the
possessors of this rude village might congregate, but all was dark, covert
and cunning, like its owners. A few children strayed from hut to hut,
giving the spot a little of the air of domestic life, and the suppressed
laugh and low voices of the women occasionally broke in upon the deep
stillness of the sombre forest. As for the men, they either ate, slept, or
examined their arms. They conversed but little, and then usually apart, or
in groups withdrawn from the females, whilst an air of untiring, innate
watchfulness and apprehension of danger seemed to be blended even with
their slumbers.

As the two girls came near the encampment, Hetty uttered a slight
exclamation, on catching a view of the person of her father. He was seated
on the ground with his back to a tree, and Hurry stood near him indolently
whittling a twig. Apparently they were as much at liberty as any others in
or about the camp, and one unaccustomed to Indian usages would have
mistaken them for visitors, instead of supposing them to be captives.
Wah-ta-Wah led her new friend quite near them, and then modestly withdrew,
that her own presence might be no restraint on her feelings. But Hetty was
not sufficiently familiar with caresses or outward demonstrations of
fondness, to indulge in any outbreaking of feeling. She merely approached
and stood at her father’s side without speaking, resembling a silent
statue of filial affection. The old man expressed neither alarm nor
surprise at her sudden appearance. In these particulars he had caught the
stoicism of the Indians, well knowing that there was no more certain mode
of securing their respect than by imitating their self-command. Nor did
the savages themselves betray the least sign of surprise at this sudden
appearance of a stranger among them. In a word, this arrival produced much
less visible sensation, though occurring under circumstances so peculiar,
than would be seen in a village of higher pretensions to civilization did
an ordinary traveler drive up to the door of its principal inn.

Still a few warriors collected, and it was evident by the manner in which
they glanced at Hetty as they conversed together, that she was the subject
of their discourse, and probable that the reasons of her unlooked-for
appearance were matters of discussion. This phlegm of manner is
characteristic of the North American Indian—some say of his white
successor also—but, in this case much should be attributed to the
peculiar situation in which the party was placed. The force in the Ark,
the presence of Chingachgook excepted, was well known, no tribe or body of
troops was believed to be near, and vigilant eyes were posted round the
entire lake, watching day and night the slightest movement of those whom
it would not be exaggerated now to term the besieged.

Hutter was inwardly much moved by the conduct of Hetty, though he affected
so much indifference of manner. He recollected her gentle appeal to him
before he left the Ark, and misfortune rendered that of weight which might
have been forgotten amid the triumph of success. Then he knew the simple,
single-hearted fidelity of his child, and understood why she had come, and
the total disregard of self that reigned in all her acts.

“This is not well, Hetty,” he said, deprecating the consequences to the
girl herself more than any other evil. “These are fierce Iroquois, and are
as little apt to forget an injury, as a favor.”

“Tell me, father—” returned the girl, looking furtively about her as
if fearful of being overheard, “did God let you do the cruel errand on
which you came? I want much to know this, that I may speak to the Indians
plainly, if he did not.”

“You should not have come hither, Hetty; these brutes will not understand
your nature or your intentions!”

“How was it, father; neither you nor Hurry seems to have any thing that
looks like scalps.”

“If that will set your mind at peace, child, I can answer you, no. I had
caught the young creatur’ who came here with you, but her screeches soon
brought down upon me a troop of the wild cats, that was too much for any
single Christian to withstand. If that will do you any good, we are as
innocent of having taken a scalp, this time, as I make no doubt we shall
also be innocent of receiving the bounty.”

“Thank God for that, father! Now I can speak boldly to the Iroquois, and
with an easy conscience. I hope Hurry, too, has not been able to harm any
of the Indians?”

“Why, as to that matter, Hetty,” returned the individual in question,
“you’ve put it pretty much in the natyve character of the religious truth.
Hurry has not been able, and that is the long and short of it. I’ve seen
many squalls, old fellow, both on land and on the water, but never did I
feel one as lively and as snappish as that which come down upon us, night
afore last, in the shape of an Indian hurrah-boys! Why, Hetty, you’re no
great matter at a reason, or an idee that lies a little deeper than
common, but you’re human and have some human notions—now I’ll just
ask you to look at them circumstances. Here was old Tom, your father, and
myself, bent on a legal operation, as is to be seen in the words of the
law and the proclamation; thinking no harm; when we were set upon by
critturs that were more like a pack of hungry wolves than mortal savages
even, and there they had us tethered like two sheep, in less time than it
has taken me to tell you the story.”

“You are free now, Hurry,” returned Hetty, glancing timidly at the fine
unfettered limbs of the young giant—“You have no cords, or withes,
to pain your arms, or legs, now.”

“Not I, Hetty. Natur’ is natur’, and freedom is natur’, too. My limbs have
a free look, but that’s pretty much the amount of it, sin’ I can’t use
them in the way I should like. Even these trees have eyes; ay, and tongues
too; for was the old man, here, or I, to start one single rod beyond our
gaol limits, sarvice would be put on the bail afore we could ‘gird up our
loins’ for a race, and, like as not, four or five rifle bullets would be
travelling arter us, carrying so many invitations to curb our impatience.
There isn’t a gaol in the colony as tight as this we are now in; for I’ve
tried the vartues of two or three on ’em, and I know the mater’als they
are made of, as well as the men that made ’em; takin’ down being the next
step in schoolin’, to puttin’ up, in all such fabrications.”

Lest the reader should get an exaggerated opinion of Hurry’s demerits from
this boastful and indiscreet revelation, it may be well to say that his
offences were confined to assaults and batteries, for several of which he
had been imprisoned, when, as he has just said, he often escaped by
demonstrating the flimsiness of the constructions in which he was
confined, by opening for himself doors in spots where the architects had
neglected to place them. But Hetty had no knowledge of gaols, and little
of the nature of crimes, beyond what her unadulterated and almost
instinctive perceptions of right and wrong taught her, and this sally of
the rude being who had spoken was lost upon her. She understood his
general meaning, however, and answered in reference to that alone.

“It’s so best, Hurry,” she said. “It is best father and you should be
quiet and peaceable, ’till I have spoken to the Iroquois, when all will be
well and happy. I don’t wish either of you to follow, but leave me to
myself. As soon as all is settled, and you are at liberty to go back to
the castle, I will come and let you know it.”

Hetty spoke with so much simple earnestness, seemed so confident of
success, and wore so high an air of moral feeling and truth, that both the
listeners felt more disposed to attach an importance to her mediation,
than might otherwise have happened. When she manifested an intention to
quit them, therefore, they offered no obstacle, though they saw she was
about to join the group of chiefs who were consulting apart, seemingly on
the manner and motive of her own sudden appearance.

When Hist—for so we love best to call her—quitted her
companion, she strayed near one or two of the elder warriors, who had
shown her most kindness in her captivity, the principal man of whom had
even offered to adopt her as his child if she would consent to become a
Huron. In taking this direction, the shrewd girl did so to invite inquiry.
She was too well trained in the habits of her people to obtrude the
opinions of one of her sex and years on men and warriors, but nature had
furnished a tact and ingenuity that enabled her to attract the attention
she desired, without wounding the pride of those to whom it was her duty
to defer and respect. Even her affected indifference stimulated curiosity,
and Hetty had hardly reached the side of her father, before the Delaware
girl was brought within the circle of the warriors, by a secret but
significant gesture. Here she was questioned as to the person of her
companion, and the motives that had brought her to the camp. This was all
that Hist desired. She explained the manner in which she had detected the
weakness of Hetty’s reason, rather exaggerating than lessening the
deficiency in her intellect, and then she related in general terms the
object of the girl in venturing among her enemies. The effect was all that
the speaker expected, her account investing the person and character of
their visitor with a sacredness and respect that she well knew would prove
her protection. As soon as her own purpose was attained, Hist withdrew to
a distance, where, with female consideration and a sisterly tenderness she
set about the preparation of a meal, to be offered to her new friend as
soon as the latter might be at liberty to partake of it. While thus
occupied, however, the ready girl in no degree relaxed in her
watchfulness, noting every change of countenance among the chiefs, every
movement of Hetty’s, and the smallest occurrence that could be likely to
affect her own interests, or that of her new friend.

As Hetty approached the chiefs they opened their little circle, with an
ease and deference of manner that would have done credit to men of more
courtly origin. A fallen tree lay near, and the oldest of the warriors
made a quiet sign for the girl to be seated on it, taking his place at her
side with the gentleness of a father. The others arranged themselves
around the two with grave dignity, and then the girl, who had sufficient
observation to perceive that such a course was expected of her, began to
reveal the object of her visit. The moment she opened her mouth to speak,
however, the old chief gave a gentle sign for her to forbear, said a few
words to one of his juniors, and then waited in silent patience until the
latter had summoned Hist to the party. This interruption proceeded from
the chief’s having discovered that there existed a necessity for an
interpreter, few of the Hurons present understanding the English language,
and they but imperfectly.

Wah-ta-Wah was not sorry to be called upon to be present at the interview,
and least of all in the character in which she was now wanted. She was
aware of the hazards she ran in attempting to deceive one or two of the
party, but was none the less resolved to use every means that offered, and
to practice every artifice that an Indian education could supply, to
conceal the facts of the vicinity of her betrothed, and of the errand on
which he had come. One unpracticed in the expedients and opinions of
savage life would not have suspected the readiness of invention, the
wariness of action, the high resolution, the noble impulses, the deep
self-devotion, and the feminine disregard of self when the affections were
concerned, that lay concealed beneath the demure looks, the mild eyes, and
the sunny smiles of this young Indian beauty. As she approached them, the
grim old warriors regarded her with pleasure, for they had a secret pride
in the hope of engrafting so rare a scion on the stock of their own
nation; adoption being as regularly practised, and as distinctly
recognized among the tribes of America, as it ever had been among those
nations that submit to the sway of the Civil Law.

As soon as Hist was seated by the side of Hetty, the old chief desired her
to ask “the fair young pale-face” what had brought her among the Iroquois,
and what they could do to serve her.

“Tell them, Hist, who I am—Thomas Hutter’s youngest daughter; Thomas
Hutter, the oldest of their two prisoners; he who owns the castle and the
Ark, and who has the best right to be thought the owner of these hills,
and that lake, since he has dwelt so long, and trapped so long, and fished
so long, among them—They’ll know whom you mean by Thomas Hutter, if
you tell them, that. And then tell them that I’ve come here to convince
them they ought not to harm father and Hurry, but let them go in peace,
and to treat them as brethren rather than as enemies. Now tell them all
this plainly, Hist, and fear nothing for yourself or me. God will protect
us.”

Wah-ta-Wah did as the other desired, taking care to render the words of
her friend as literally as possible into the Iroquois tongue, a language
she used with a readiness almost equal to that with which she spoke her
own. The chiefs heard this opening explanation with grave decorum, the two
who had a little knowledge of English intimating their satisfaction with
the interpreter by furtive but significant glances of the eyes.

“And, now, Hist,” continued Hetty, as soon as it was intimated to her that
she might proceed, “and, now, Hist, I wish you to tell these red men, word
for word, what I am about to say. Tell them first, that father and Hurry
came here with an intention to take as many scalps as they could, for the
wicked governor and the province have offered money for scalps, whether of
warriors, or women, men or children, and the love of gold was too strong
for their hearts to withstand it. Tell them this, dear Hist, just as you
have heard it from me, word for word.”

Wah-ta-Wah hesitated about rendering this speech as literally as had been
desired, but detecting the intelligence of those who understood English,
and apprehending even a greater knowledge than they actually possessed she
found herself compelled to comply. Contrary to what a civilized man would
have expected, the admission of the motives and of the errands of their
prisoners produced no visible effect on either the countenances or the
feelings of the listeners. They probably considered the act meritorious,
and that which neither of them would have hesitated to perform in his own
person, he would not be apt to censure in another.

“And, now, Hist,” resumed Hetty, as soon as she perceived that her first
speeches were understood by the chiefs, “you can tell them more. They know
that father and Hurry did not succeed, and therefore they can bear them no
grudge for any harm that has been done. If they had slain their children
and wives it would not alter the matter, and I’m not certain that what I
am about to tell them would not have more weight had there been mischief
done. But ask them first, Hist, if they know there is a God, who reigns
over the whole earth, and is ruler and chief of all who live, let them be
red, or white, or what color they may?”

Wah-ta-Wah looked a little surprised at this question, for the idea of the
Great Spirit is seldom long absent from the mind of an Indian girl. She
put the question as literally as possible, however, and received a grave
answer in the affirmative.

“This is right,” continued Hetty, “and my duty will now be light. This
Great Spirit, as you call our God, has caused a book to be written, that
we call a Bible, and in this book have been set down all his commandments,
and his holy will and pleasure, and the rules by which all men are to
live, and directions how to govern the thoughts even, and the wishes, and
the will. Here, this is one of these holy books, and you must tell the
chiefs what I am about to read to them from its sacred pages.”

As Hetty concluded, she reverently unrolled a small English Bible from its
envelope of coarse calico, treating the volume with the sort of external
respect that a Romanist would be apt to show to a religious relic. As she
slowly proceeded in her task the grim warriors watched each movement with
riveted eyes, and when they saw the little volume appear a slight
expression of surprise escaped one or two of them. But Hetty held it out
towards them in triumph, as if she expected the sight would produce a
visible miracle, and then, without betraying either surprise or
mortification at the Stoicism of the Indian, she turned eagerly to her new
friend, in order to renew the discourse.

“This is the sacred volume, Hist,” she said—“and these words, and
lines, and verses, and chapters, all came from God.”

“Why Great Spirit no send book to Injin, too?” demanded Hist, with the
directness of a mind that was totally unsophisticated.

“Why?” answered Hetty, a little bewildered by a question so unexpected.
“Why?—Ah! you know the Indians don’t know how to read.”

If Hist was not satisfied with this explanation, she did not deem the
point of sufficient importance to be pressed. Simply bending her body, in
a gentle admission of the truth of what she heard, she sat patiently
awaiting the further arguments of the pale-face enthusiast.

“You can tell these chiefs that throughout this book, men are ordered to
forgive their enemies; to treat them as they would brethren; and never to
injure their fellow creatures, more especially on account of revenge or
any evil passions. Do you think you can tell them this, so that they will
understand it, Hist?”

“Tell him well enough, but he no very easy to understand.” Hist then
conveyed the ideas of Hetty, in the best manner she could, to the
attentive Indians, who heard her words with some such surprise as an
American of our own times would be apt to betray at a suggestion that the
great modern but vacillating ruler of things human, public opinion, might
be wrong. One or two of their number, however, having met with
missionaries, said a few words in explanation, and then the group gave all
its attention to the communications that were to follow. Before Hetty
resumed she inquired earnestly of Hist if the chiefs had understood her,
and receiving an evasive answer, was fain to be satisfied.

“I will now read to the warriors some of the verses that it is good for
them to know,” continued the girl, whose manner grew more solemn and
earnest as she proceeded—“and they will remember that they are the
very words of the Great Spirit. First, then, ye are commanded to ‘love thy
neighbor as Thyself.’ Tell them that, dear Hist.”

“Neighbor, for Injin, no mean pale-face,” answered the Delaware girl, with
more decision than she had hitherto thought it necessary to use. “Neighbor
mean Iroquois for Iroquois, Mohican for Mohican, Pale-face for pale face.
No need tell chief any thing else.”

“You forget, Hist, these are the words of the Great Spirit, and the chiefs
must obey them as well as others. Here is another commandment—’Whosoever
shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.’”

“What that mean?” demanded Hist, with the quickness of lightning.

Hetty explained that it was an order not to resent injuries, but rather to
submit to receive fresh wrongs from the offender.

“And hear this, too, Hist,” she added. “’Love your enemies, bless them
that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which
despitefully use you and persecute you.’”

By this time Hetty had become excited; her eye gleamed with the
earnestness of her feelings, her cheeks flushed, and her voice, usually so
low and modulated, became stronger and more impressive. With the Bible she
had been early made familiar by her mother, and she now turned from
passage to passage with surprising rapidity, taking care to cull such
verses as taught the sublime lessons of Christian charity and Christian
forgiveness. To translate half she said, in her pious earnestness,
Wah-ta-Wah would have found impracticable, had she made the effort, but
wonder held her tongue tied, equally with the chiefs, and the young,
simple-minded enthusiast had fairly become exhausted with her own efforts,
before the other opened her mouth, again, to utter a syllable. Then,
indeed, the Delaware girl gave a brief translation of the substance of
what had been both read and said, confining herself to one or two of the
more striking of the verses, those that had struck her own imagination as
the most paradoxical, and which certainly would have been the most
applicable to the case, could the uninstructed minds of the listeners
embrace the great moral truths they conveyed.

It will be scarcely necessary to tell the reader the effect that such
novel duties would be likely to produce among a group of Indian warriors,
with whom it was a species of religious principle never to forget a
benefit, or to forgive an injury. Fortunately, the previous explanations
of Hist had prepared the minds of the Hurons for something extravagant,
and most of that which to them seemed inconsistent and paradoxical, was
accounted for by the fact that the speaker possessed a mind that was
constituted differently from those of most of the human race. Still there
were one or two old men who had heard similar doctrines from the
missionaries, and these felt a desire to occupy an idle moment by pursuing
a subject that they found so curious.

“This is the Good Book of the pale-faces,” observed one of these chiefs,
taking the volume from the unresisting hands of Hetty, who gazed anxiously
at his face while he turned the leaves, as if she expected to witness some
visible results from the circumstance. “This is the law by which my white
brethren professes to live?”

Hist, to whom this question was addressed, if it might be considered as
addressed to any one, in particular, answered simply in the affirmative;
adding that both the French of the Canadas, and the Yengeese of the
British provinces equally admitted its authority, and affected to revere
its principles.

“Tell my young sister,” said the Huron, looking directly at Hist, “that I
will open my mouth and say a few words.”

“The Iroquois chief go to speak—my pale-face friend listen,” said
Hist.

“I rejoice to hear it!” exclaimed Hetty. “God has touched his heart, and
he will now let father and Hurry go.”

“This is the pale-face law,” resumed the chief. “It tells him to do good
to them that hurt him, and when his brother asks him for his rifle to give
him the powder horn, too. Such is the pale-face law?”

“Not so—not so—” answered Hetty earnestly, when these words
had been interpreted—“There is not a word about rifles in the whole
book, and powder and bullets give offence to the Great Spirit.”

“Why then does the pale-face use them? If he is ordered to give double to
him that asks only for one thing, why does he take double from the poor
Indian who ask for no thing. He comes from beyond the rising sun, with
this book in his hand, and he teaches the red man to read it, but why does
he forget himself all it says? When the Indian gives, he is never
satisfied; and now he offers gold for the scalps of our women and
children, though he calls us beasts if we take the scalp of a warrior
killed in open war. My name is Rivenoak.”

When Hetty had got this formidable question fairly presented to her mind
in the translation, and Hist did her duty with more than usual readiness
on this occasion, it scarcely need be said that she was sorely perplexed.
Abler heads than that of this poor girl have frequently been puzzled by
questions of a similar drift, and it is not surprising that with all her
own earnestness and sincerity she did not know what answer to make.

“What shall I tell them, Hist,” she asked imploringly—“I know that
all I have read from the book is true, and yet it wouldn’t seem so, would
it, by the conduct of those to whom the book was given?”

“Give ’em pale-face reason,” returned Hist, ironically—“that always
good for one side; though he bad for t’other.”

“No—no—Hist, there can’t be two sides to truth—and yet
it does seem strange! I’m certain I have read the verses right, and no one
would be so wicked as to print the word of God wrong. That can never be,
Hist.”

“Well, to poor Injin girl, it seem every thing can be to pale-faces,”
returned the other, coolly. “One time ‘ey say white, and one time ‘ey say
black. Why never can be?”

Hetty was more and more embarrassed, until overcome with the apprehension
that she had failed in her object, and that the lives of her father and
Hurry would be the forfeit of some blunder of her own, she burst into
tears. From that moment the manner of Hist lost all its irony and cool
indifference, and she became the fond caressing friend again. Throwing her
arms around the afflicted girl, she attempted to soothe her sorrows by the
scarcely ever failing remedy of female sympathy.

“Stop cry—no cry—” she said, wiping the tears from the face of
Hetty, as she would have performed the same office for a child, and
stopping to press her occasionally to her own warm bosom with the
affection of a sister. “Why you so trouble? You no make he book, if he be
wrong, and you no make he pale-face if he wicked. There wicked red man,
and wicked white man—no colour all good—no colour all wicked.
Chiefs know that well enough.”

Hetty soon recovered from this sudden burst of grief, and then her mind
reverted to the purpose of her visit, with all its single-hearted
earnestness. Perceiving that the grim looking chiefs were still standing
around her in grave attention, she hoped that another effort to convince
them of the right might be successful. “Listen, Hist,” she said,
struggling to suppress her sobs, and to speak distinctly—“Tell the
chiefs that it matters not what the wicked do—right is right—The
words of The Great Spirit are the words of The Great Spirit—and no
one can go harmless for doing an evil act, because another has done it
before him. ‘Render good for evil,’ says this book, and that is the law
for the red man as well as for the white man.”

“Never hear such law among Delaware, or among Iroquois—” answered
Hist soothingly. “No good to tell chiefs any such laws as dat. Tell ’em
somet’ing they believe.”

Hist was about to proceed, notwithstanding, when a tap on the shoulder
from the finger of the oldest chief caused her to look up. She then
perceived that one of the warriors had left the group, and was already
returning to it with Hutter and Hurry. Understanding that the two last
were to become parties in the inquiry, she became mute, with the
unhesitating obedience of an Indian woman. In a few seconds the prisoners
stood face to face with the principal men of the captors.

“Daughter,” said the senior chief to the young Delaware, “ask this grey
beard why he came into our camp?”

The question was put by Hist, in her own imperfect English, but in a way
that was easy to be understood. Hutter was too stern and obdurate by
nature to shrink from the consequences of any of his acts, and he was also
too familiar with the opinions of the savages not to understand that
nothing was to be gained by equivocation or an unmanly dread of their
anger. Without hesitating, therefore, he avowed the purpose with which he
had landed, merely justifying it by the fact that the government of the
province had bid high for scalps. This frank avowal was received by the
Iroquois with evident satisfaction, not so much, however, on account of
the advantage it gave them in a moral point of view, as by its proving
that they had captured a man worthy of occupying their thoughts and of
becoming a subject of their revenge. Hurry, when interrogated, confessed
the truth, though he would have been more disposed to concealment than his
sterner companion, did the circumstances very well admit of its adoption.
But he had tact enough to discover that equivocation would be useless, at
that moment, and he made a merit of necessity by imitating a frankness,
which, in the case of Hutter, was the offspring of habits of indifference
acting on a disposition that was always ruthless, and reckless of personal
consequences.

As soon as the chiefs had received the answers to their questions, they
walked away in silence, like men who deemed the matter disposed of, all
Hetty’s dogmas being thrown away on beings trained in violence from
infancy to manhood. Hetty and Hist were now left alone with Hutter and
Hurry, no visible restraint being placed on the movements of either;
though all four, in fact, were vigilantly and unceasingly watched. As
respects the men, care was had to prevent them from getting possession of
any of the rifles that lay scattered about, their own included; and there
all open manifestations of watchfulness ceased. But they, who were so
experienced in Indian practices, knew too well how great was the distance
between appearances and reality, to become the dupes of this seeming
carelessness. Although both thought incessantly of the means of escape,
and this without concert, each was aware of the uselessness of attempting
any project of the sort that was not deeply laid, and promptly executed.
They had been long enough in the encampment, and were sufficiently
observant to have ascertained that Hist, also, was a sort of captive, and,
presuming on the circumstance, Hutter spoke in her presence more openly
than he might otherwise have thought it prudent to do; inducing Hurry to
be equally unguarded by his example.

“I’ll not blame you, Hetty, for coming on this errand, which was well
meant if not very wisely planned,” commenced the father, seating himself
by the side of his daughter and taking her hand; a sign of affection that
this rude being was accustomed to manifest to this particular child. “But
preaching, and the Bible, are not the means to turn an Indian from his
ways. Has Deerslayer sent any message; or has he any scheme by which he
thinks to get us free?”

“Ay, that’s the substance of it!” put in Hurry. “If you can help us, gal,
to half a mile of freedom, or even a good start of a short quarter, I’ll
answer for the rest. Perhaps the old man may want a little more, but for
one of my height and years that will meet all objections.”

Hetty looked distressed, turning her eyes from one to the other, but she
had no answer to give to the question of the reckless Hurry.

“Father,” she said, “neither Deerslayer nor Judith knew of my coming until
I had left the Ark. They are afraid the Iroquois will make a raft and try
to get off to the hut, and think more of defending that than of coming to
aid you.”

“No—no—no—” said Hist hurriedly, though in a low voice,
and with her face bent towards the earth, in order to conceal from those
whom she knew to be watching them the fact of her speaking at all. “No—no—no—Deerslayer
different man. He no t’ink of defending ‘self, with friend in danger. Help
one another, and all get to hut.”

“This sounds well, old Tom,” said Hurry, winking and laughing, though he
too used the precaution to speak low—“Give me a ready witted squaw
for a fri’nd, and though I’ll not downright defy an Iroquois, I think I
would defy the devil.”

“No talk loud,” said Hist. “Some Iroquois got Yengeese tongue, and all got
Yengeese ear.”

“Have we a friend in you, young woman?” enquired Hutter with an increasing
interest in the conference. “If so, you may calculate on a solid reward,
and nothing will be easier than to send you to your own tribe, if we can
once fairly get you off with us to the castle. Give us the Ark and the
canoes, and we can command the lake, spite of all the savages in the
Canadas. Nothing but artillery could drive us out of the castle, if we can
get back to it.

“S’pose ‘ey come ashore to take scalp?” retorted Hist, with cool irony, at
which the girl appeared to be more expert than is common for her sex.

“Ay—ay—that was a mistake; but there is little use in
lamentations, and less still, young woman, in flings.”

“Father,” said Hetty, “Judith thinks of breaking open the big chest, in
hopes of finding something in that which may buy your freedom of the
savages.”

A dark look came over Hutter at the announcement of this fact, and he
muttered his dissatisfaction in a way to render it intelligible enough.

“What for no break open chest?” put in Hist. “Life sweeter than old chest—scalp
sweeter than old chest. If no tell darter to break him open, Wah-ta-Wah no
help him to run away.”

“Ye know not what ye ask—ye are but silly girls, and the wisest way
for ye both is to speak of what ye understand and to speak of nothing
else. I little like this cold neglect of the savages, Hurry; it’s a proof
that they think of something serious, and if we are to do any thing, we
must do it soon. Can we count on this young woman, think you?”

“Listen—” said Hist quickly, and with an earnestness that proved how
much her feelings were concerned—“Wah-ta-Wah no Iroquois—All
over Delaware—got Delaware heart—Delaware feeling. She
prisoner, too. One prisoner help t’udder prisoner. No good to talk more,
now. Darter stay with fader—Wah-ta-Wah come and see friend—all
look right—Then tell what he do.”

This was said in a low voice, but distinctly, and in a manner to make an
impression. As soon as it was uttered the girl arose and left the group,
walking composedly towards the hut she occupied, as if she had no further
interest in what might pass between the pale-faces.


Chapter XII.

We left the occupants of the castle and the ark, buried in sleep. Once, or
twice, in the course of the night, it is true, Deerslayer or the Delaware,
arose and looked out upon the tranquil lake; when, finding all safe, each
returned to his pallet, and slept like a man who was not easily deprived
of his natural rest. At the first signs of the dawn the former arose,
however, and made his personal arrangements for the day; though his
companion, whose nights had not been tranquil or without disturbances of
late, continued on his blanket until the sun had fairly risen; Judith,
too, was later than common that morning, for the earlier hours of the
night had brought her little of either refreshment or sleep. But ere the
sun had shown himself over the eastern hills these too were up and afoot,
even the tardy in that region seldom remaining on their pallets after the
appearance of the great luminary. Chingachgook was in the act of arranging
his forest toilet, when Deerslayer entered the cabin of the Ark and threw
him a few coarse but light summer vestments that belonged to Hutter.

“Judith hath given me them for your use, chief,” said the latter, as he
cast the jacket and trousers at the feet of the Indian, “for it’s ag’in
all prudence and caution to be seen in your war dress and paint. Wash off
all them fiery streaks from your cheeks, put on these garments, and here
is a hat, such as it is, that will give you an awful oncivilized sort of
civilization, as the missionaries call it. Remember that Hist is at hand,
and what we do for the maiden must be done while we are doing for others.
I know it’s ag’in your gifts and your natur’ to wear clothes, unless they
are cut and carried in a red man’s fashion, but make a vartue of necessity
and put these on at once, even if they do rise a little in your throat.”

Chingachgook, or the Serpent, eyed the vestments with strong disgust; but
he saw the usefulness of the disguise, if not its absolute necessity.
Should the Iroquois discover a red man, in or about the Castle, it might,
indeed, place them more on their guard, and give their suspicions a
direction towards their female captive. Any thing was better than a
failure, as it regarded his betrothed, and, after turning the different
garments round and round, examining them with a species of grave irony,
affecting to draw them on in a way that defeated itself, and otherwise
manifesting the reluctance of a young savage to confine his limbs in the
usual appliances of civilized life, the chief submitted to the directions
of his companion, and finally stood forth, so far as the eye could detect,
a red man in colour alone. Little was to be apprehended from this last
peculiarity, however, the distance from the shore, and the want of glasses
preventing any very close scrutiny, and Deerslayer, himself, though of a
brighter and fresher tint, had a countenance that was burnt by the sun to
a hue scarcely less red than that of his Mohican companion. The
awkwardness of the Delaware in his new attire caused his friend to smile
more than once that day, but he carefully abstained from the use of any of
those jokes which would have been bandied among white men on such an
occasion, the habits of a chief, the dignity of a warrior on his first
path, and the gravity of the circumstances in which they were placed
uniting to render so much levity out of season.

The meeting at the morning meal of the three islanders, if we may use the
term, was silent, grave and thoughtful. Judith showed by her looks that
she had passed an unquiet night, while the two men had the future before
them, with its unseen and unknown events. A few words of courtesy passed
between Deerslayer and the girl, in the course of the breakfast, but no
allusion was made to their situation. At length Judith, whose heart was
full, and whose novel feelings disposed her to entertain sentiments more
gentle and tender than common, introduced the subject, and this in a way
to show how much of her thoughts it had occupied, in the course of the
last sleepless night.

“It would be dreadful, Deerslayer,” the girl abruptly exclaimed, “should
anything serious befall my father and Hetty! We cannot remain quietly here
and leave them in the hands of the Iroquois, without bethinking us of some
means of serving them.”

“I’m ready, Judith, to sarve them, and all others who are in trouble,
could the way to do it be p’inted out. It’s no trifling matter to fall
into red-skin hands, when men set out on an ar’n’d like that which took
Hutter and Hurry ashore; that I know as well as another, and I wouldn’t
wish my worst inimy in such a strait, much less them with whom I’ve
journeyed, and eat, and slept. Have you any scheme, that you would like to
have the Sarpent and me indivour to carry out?”

“I know of no other means to release the prisoners, than by bribing the
Iroquois. They are not proof against presents, and we might offer enough,
perhaps, to make them think it better to carry away what to them will be
rich gifts, than to carry away poor prisoners; if, indeed, they should
carry them away at all!”

“This is well enough, Judith; yes, it’s well enough, if the inimy is to be
bought, and we can find articles to make the purchase with. Your father
has a convenient lodge, and it is most cunningly placed, though it doesn’t
seem overstock’d with riches that will be likely to buy his ransom.
There’s the piece he calls Killdeer, might count for something, and I
understand there’s a keg of powder about, which might be a make-weight,
sartain; and yet two able bodied men are not to be bought off for a trifle—besides—”

“Besides what?” demanded Judith impatiently, observing that the other
hesitated to proceed, probably from a reluctance to distress her.

“Why, Judith, the Frenchers offer bounties as well as our own side, and
the price of two scalps would purchase a keg of powder, and a rifle;
though I’ll not say one of the latter altogether as good as Killdeer,
there, which your father va’nts as uncommon, and unequalled, like. But
fair powder, and a pretty sartain rifle; then the red men are not the
expartest in fire arms, and don’t always know the difference atwixt that
which is ra’al, and that which is seeming.”

“This is horrible!” muttered the girl, struck by the homely manner in
which her companion was accustomed to state his facts. “But you overlook
my own clothes, Deerslayer, and they, I think, might go far with the women
of the Iroquois.”

“No doubt they would; no doubt they would, Judith,” returned the other,
looking at her keenly, as if he would ascertain whether she were really
capable of making such a sacrifice. “But, are you sartain, gal, you could
find it in your heart to part with your own finery for such a purpose?
Many is the man who has thought he was valiant till danger stared him in
the face; I’ve known them, too, that consaited they were kind and ready to
give away all they had to the poor, when they’ve been listening to other
people’s hard heartedness; but whose fists have clench’d as tight as the
riven hickory when it came to downright offerings of their own. Besides,
Judith, you’re handsome—uncommon in that way, one might observe and
do no harm to the truth—and they that have beauty, like to have that
which will adorn it. Are you sartain you could find it in your heart to
part with your own finery?”

The soothing allusion to the personal charms of the girl was well timed,
to counteract the effect produced by the distrust that the young man
expressed of Judith’s devotion to her filial duties. Had another said as
much as Deerslayer, the compliment would most probably have been
overlooked in the indignation awakened by the doubts, but even the
unpolished sincerity, that so often made this simple minded hunter bare
his thoughts, had a charm for the girl; and while she colored, and for an
instant her eyes flashed fire, she could not find it in her heart to be
really angry with one whose very soul seemed truth and manly kindness.
Look her reproaches she did, but conquering the desire to retort, she
succeeded in answering in a mild and friendly manner.

“You must keep all your favorable opinions for the Delaware girls,
Deerslayer, if you seriously think thus of those of your own colour,” she
said, affecting to laugh. “But try me; if you find that I regret either
ribbon or feather, silk or muslin, then may you think what you please of
my heart, and say what you think.”

“That’s justice! The rarest thing to find on ‘arth is a truly just man. So
says Tamenund, the wisest prophet of the Delawares, and so all must think
that have occasion to see, and talk, and act among Mankind. I love a just
man, Sarpent. His eyes are never covered with darkness towards his
inimies, while they are all sunshine and brightness towards his fri’nds.
He uses the reason that God has given him, and he uses it with a feelin’
of his being ordered to look at, and to consider things as they are, and
not as he wants them to be. It’s easy enough to find men who call
themselves just, but it’s wonderful oncommon to find them that are the
very thing, in fact. How often have I seen Indians, gal, who believed they
were lookin’ into a matter agreeable to the will of the Great Spirit, when
in truth they were only striving to act up to their own will and pleasure,
and this, half the time, with a temptation to go wrong that could no more
be seen by themselves, than the stream that runs in the next valley can be
seen by us through yonder mountain’, though any looker on might have
discovered it as plainly as we can discover the parch that are swimming
around this hut.”

“Very true, Deerslayer,” rejoined Judith, losing every trace of
displeasure in a bright smile—“very true, and I hope to see you act
on this love of justice in all matters in which I am concerned. Above all,
I hope you will judge for yourself, and not believe every evil story that
a prating idler like Hurry Harry may have to tell, that goes to touch the
good name of any young woman, who may not happen to have the same opinion
of his face and person that the blustering gallant has of himself.”

“Hurry Harry’s idees do not pass for gospel with me, Judith; but even
worse than he may have eyes and ears,” returned the other gravely.

“Enough of this!” exclaimed Judith, with flashing eye and a flush that
mounted to her temples, “and more of my father and his ransom. ‘Tis as you
say, Deerslayer; the Indians will not be likely to give up their prisoners
without a heavier bribe than my clothes can offer, and father’s rifle and
powder. There is the chest.”

“Ay, there is the chest as you say, Judith, and when the question gets to
be between a secret and a scalp, I should think most men would prefer
keeping the last. Did your father ever give you any downright commands
consarning that chist?”

“Never. He has always appeared to think its locks, and its steel bands,
and its strength, its best protection.”

“’Tis a rare chest, and altogether of curious build,” returned Deerslayer,
rising and approaching the thing in question, on which he seated himself,
with a view to examine it with greater ease. “Chingachgook, this is no
wood that comes of any forest that you or I have ever trailed through!
‘Tisn’t the black walnut, and yet it’s quite as comely, if not more so,
did the smoke and the treatment give it fair play.”

The Delaware drew near, felt of the wood, examined its grain, endeavored
to indent the surface with a nail, and passed his hand curiously over the
steel bands, the heavy padlocks, and the other novel peculiarities of the
massive box.

“No—nothing like this grows in these regions,” resumed Deerslayer.
“I’ve seen all the oaks, both the maples, the elms, the bass woods, all
the walnuts, the butternuts, and every tree that has a substance and
colour, wrought into some form or other, but never have I before seen such
a wood as this! Judith, the chest itself would buy your father’s freedom,
or Iroquois cur’osity isn’t as strong as red-skin cur’osity, in general;
especially in the matter of woods.”

“The purchase might be cheaper made, perhaps, Deerslayer. The chest is
full, and it would be better to part with half than to part with the
whole. Besides, father—I know not why—but father values that
chest highly.”

“He would seem to prize what it holds more than the chest, itself, judging
by the manner in which he treats the outside, and secures the inside. Here
are three locks, Judith; is there no key?”

“I’ve never seen one, and yet key there must be, since Hetty told us she
had often seen the chest opened.”

“Keys no more lie in the air, or float on the water, than humans, gal; if
there is a key, there must be a place in which it is kept.”

“That is true, and it might not be difficult to find it, did we dare to
search!”

“This is for you, Judith; it is altogether for you. The chist is your’n,
or your father’s; and Hutter is your father, not mine. Cur’osity is a
woman’s, and not a man’s failing, and there you have got all the reasons
before you. If the chist has articles for ransom, it seems to me they
would be wisely used in redeeming their owner’s life, or even in saving
his scalp; but that is a matter for your judgment, and not for ourn. When
the lawful owner of a trap, or a buck, or a canoe, isn’t present, his next
of kin becomes his riprisentyve by all the laws of the woods. We therefore
leave you to say whether the chist shall, or shall not be opened.”

“I hope you do not believe I can hesitate, when my father’s life’s in
danger, Deerslayer!”

“Why, it’s pretty much putting a scolding ag’in tears and mourning. It’s
not onreasonable to foretell that old Tom may find fault with what you’ve
done, when he sees himself once more in his hut, here, but there’s nothing
unusual in men’s falling out with what has been done for their own good; I
dare to say that even the moon would seem a different thing from what it
now does, could we look at it from the other side.”

“Deerslayer, if we can find the key, I will authorize you to open the
chest, and to take such things from it as you may think will buy father’s
ransom.”

“First find the key, gal; we’ll talk of the rest a’terwards. Sarpent,
you’ve eyes like a fly, and a judgment that’s seldom out. Can you help us
in calculating where Floating Tom would be apt to keep the key of a chist
that he holds to be as private as this?”

The Delaware had taken no part in the discourse until he was thus directly
appealed to, when he quitted the chest, which had continued to attract his
attention, and cast about him for the place in which a key would be likely
to be concealed under such circumstances. As Judith and Deerslayer were
not idle the while, the whole three were soon engaged in an anxious and
spirited search. As it was certain that the desired key was not to be
found in any of the common drawers or closets, of which there were several
in the building, none looked there, but all turned their inquiries to
those places that struck them as ingenious hiding places, and more likely
to be used for such a purpose. In this manner the outer room was
thoroughly but fruitlessly examined, when they entered the sleeping
apartment of Hutter. This part of the rude building was better furnished
than the rest of the structure, containing several articles that had been
especially devoted to the service of the deceased wife of its owner, but
as Judith had all the rest of the keys, it was soon rummaged without
bringing to light the particular key desired.

They now entered the bed room of the daughters. Chingachgook was
immediately struck with the contrast between the articles and the
arrangement of that side of the room that might be called Judith’s, and
that which more properly belonged to Hetty. A slight exclamation escaped
him, and pointing in each direction he alluded to the fact in a low voice,
speaking to his friend in the Delaware tongue.

“’Tis as you think, Sarpent,” answered Deerslayer, whose remarks we always
translate into English, preserving as much as possible of the peculiar
phraseology and manner of the man, “’Tis just so, as any one may see, and
’tis all founded in natur’. One sister loves finery, some say overmuch;
while t’other is as meek and lowly as God ever created goodness and truth.
Yet, after all, I dare say that Judith has her vartues, and Hetty has her
failin’s.”

“And the ‘Feeble-Mind’ has seen the chist opened?” inquired Chingachgook,
with curiosity in his glance.

“Sartain; that much I’ve heard from her own lips; and, for that matter, so
have you. It seems her father doesn’t misgive her discretion, though he
does that of his eldest darter.”

“Then the key is hid only from the Wild Rose?” for so Chingachgook had
begun gallantly to term Judith, in his private discourse with his friend.

“That’s it! That’s just it! One he trusts, and the other he doesn’t.
There’s red and white in that, Sarpent, all tribes and nations agreeing in
trusting some, and refusing to trust other some. It depends on character
and judgment.”

“Where could a key be put, so little likely to be found by the Wild Rose,
as among coarse clothes?”

Deerslayer started, and turning to his friend with admiration expressed in
every lineament of his face, he fairly laughed, in his silent but hearty
manner, at the ingenuity and readiness of the conjecture.

“Your name’s well bestowed, Sarpent—yes, ’tis well bestowed! Sure
enough, where would a lover of finery be so little likely to s’arch, as
among garments as coarse and onseemly as these of poor Hetty’s. I dares to
say, Judith’s delicate fingers haven’t touched a bit of cloth as rough and
oncomely as that petticoat, now, since she first made acquaintance with
the officers! Yet, who knows? The key may be as likely to be on the same
peg, as in any other place. Take down the garment, Delaware, and let us
see if you are ra’ally a prophet.” Chingachgook did as desired, but no key
was found. A coarse pocket, apparently empty, hung on the adjoining peg,
and this was next examined. By this time, the attention of Judith was
called in that direction, and she spoke hurriedly and like one who wished
to save unnecessary trouble.

“Those are only the clothes of poor Hetty, dear simple girl!” she said,
“Nothing we seek would be likely to be there.”

The words were hardly out of the handsome mouth of the speaker, when
Chingachgook drew the desired key from the pocket. Judith was too quick of
apprehension not to understand the reason a hiding place so simple and
exposed had been used. The blood rushed to her face, as much with
resentment, perhaps, as with shame, and she bit her lip, though she
continued silent. Deerslayer and his friend now discovered the delicacy of
men of native refinement, neither smiling or even by a glance betraying
how completely he understood the motives and ingenuity of this clever
artifice. The former, who had taken the key from the Indian, led the way
into the adjoining room, and applying it to a lock ascertained that the
right instrument had actually been found. There were three padlocks, each
of which however was easily opened by this single key. Deerslayer removed
them all, loosened the hasps, raised the lid a little to make certain it
was loose, and then he drew back from the chest several feet, signing to
his friend to follow.

“This is a family chist, Judith,” he said, “and ’tis like to hold family
secrets. The Sarpent and I will go into the Ark, and look to the canoes,
and paddles, and oars, while you can examine it by yourself, and find out
whether any thing that will be a make-weight in a ransom is, or is not,
among the articles. When you’ve got through give us a call, and we’ll all
sit in council together touching the valie of the articles.”

“Stop, Deerslayer,” exclaimed the girl, as he was about to withdraw. “Not
a single thing will I touch—I will not even raise the lid—unless
you are present. Father and Hetty have seen fit to keep the inside of this
chest a secret from me, and I am much too proud to pry into their hidden
treasures unless it were for their own good. But on no account will I open
the chest alone. Stay with me, then; I want witnesses of what I do.”

“I rather think, Sarpent, that the gal is right! Confidence and reliance
beget security, but suspicion is like to make us all wary. Judith has a
right to ask us to be present, and should the chist hold any of Master
Hutter’s secrets, they will fall into the keeping of two as close mouthed
young men as are to be found. We will stay with you, Judith—but
first let us take a look at the lake and the shore, for this chist will
not be emptied in a minute.”

The two men now went out on the platform, and Deerslayer swept the shore
with the glass, while the Indian gravely turned his eye on the water and
the woods, in quest of any sign that might betray the machinations of
their enemies. Nothing was visible, and assured of their temporary
security, the three collected around the chest again, with the avowed
object of opening it.

Judith had held this chest and its unknown contents in a species of
reverence as long as she could remember. Neither her father nor her mother
ever mentioned it in her presence, and there appeared to be a silent
convention that in naming the different objects that occasionally stood
near it, or even lay on its lid, care should be had to avoid any allusion
to the chest itself. Habit had rendered this so easy, and so much a matter
of course, that it was only quite recently the girl had began even to muse
on the singularity of the circumstance. But there had never been
sufficient intimacy between Hutter and his eldest daughter to invite
confidence. At times he was kind, but in general, with her more
especially, he was stern and morose. Least of all had his authority been
exercised in a way to embolden his child to venture on the liberty she was
about to take, without many misgivings of the consequences, although the
liberty proceeded from a desire to serve himself. Then Judith was not
altogether free from a little superstition on the subject of this chest,
which had stood a sort of tabooed relic before her eyes from childhood to
the present hour. Nevertheless the time had come when it would seem that
this mystery was to be explained, and that under circumstances, too, which
left her very little choice in the matter.

Finding that both her companions were watching her movements, in grave
silence, Judith placed a hand on the lid and endeavored to raise it. Her
strength, however, was insufficient, and it appeared to the girl, who was
fully aware that all the fastenings were removed, that she was resisted in
an unhallowed attempt by some supernatural power.

“I cannot raise the lid, Deerslayer!” she said—“Had we not better
give up the attempt, and find some other means of releasing the
prisoners?”

“Not so—Judith; not so, gal. No means are as sartain and easy, as a
good bribe,” answered the other. “As for the lid, ’tis held by nothing but
its own weight, which is prodigious for so small a piece of wood, loaded
with iron as it is.”

As Deerslayer spoke, he applied his own strength to the effort, and
succeeded in raising the lid against the timbers of the house, where he
took care to secure it by a sufficient prop. Judith fairly trembled as she
cast her first glance at the interior, and she felt a temporary relief in
discovering that a piece of canvas, that was carefully tucked in around
the edges, effectually concealed all beneath it. The chest was apparently
well stored, however, the canvas lying within an inch of the lid.

“Here’s a full cargo,” said Deerslayer, eyeing the arrangement, “and we
had needs go to work leisurely and at our ease. Sarpent, bring some stools
while I spread this blanket on the floor, and then we’ll begin work
orderly and in comfort.”

The Delaware complied, Deerslayer civilly placed a stool for Judith, took
one himself, and commenced the removal of the canvas covering. This was
done deliberately, and in as cautious a manner as if it were believed that
fabrics of a delicate construction lay hidden beneath. When the canvass
was removed, the first articles that came in view were some of the
habiliments of the male sex. They were of fine materials, and, according
to the fashions of the age, were gay in colours and rich in ornaments. One
coat in particular was of scarlet, and had button holes worked in gold
thread. Still it was not military, but was part of the attire of a
civilian of condition, at a period when social rank was rigidly respected
in dress. Chingachgook could not refrain from an exclamation of pleasure,
as soon as Deerslayer opened this coat and held it up to view, for,
notwithstanding all his trained self-command, the splendor of the vestment
was too much for the philosophy of an Indian. Deerslayer turned quickly,
and he regarded his friend with momentary displeasure as this burst of
weakness escaped him, and then he soliloquized, as was his practice
whenever any strong feeling suddenly got the ascendancy.

“’Tis his gift!—yes, ’tis the gift of a red-skin to love finery, and
he is not to be blamed. This is an extr’ornary garment, too, and
extr’ornary things get up extr’ornary feelin’s. I think this will do,
Judith, for the Indian heart is hardly to be found in all America that can
withstand colours like these, and glitter like that. If this coat was ever
made for your father, you’ve come honestly by the taste for finery, you
have.”

“That coat was never made for father,” answered the girl, quickly—“it
is much too long, while father is short and square.”

“Cloth was plenty if it was, and glitter cheap,” answered Deerslayer, with
his silent, joyous laugh. “Sarpent, this garment was made for a man of
your size, and I should like to see it on your shoulders.”

Chingachgook, nothing loath, submitted to the trial, throwing aside the
coarse and thread bare jacket of Hutter, to deck his person in a coat that
was originally intended for a gentleman. The transformation was ludicrous,
but as men are seldom struck with incongruities in their own appearance,
any more than in their own conduct, the Delaware studied this change in a
common glass, by which Hutter was in the habit of shaving, with grave
interest. At that moment he thought of Hist, and we owe it to truth, to
say, though it may militate a little against the stern character of a
warrior to avow it, that he wished he could be seen by her in his present
improved aspect.

“Off with it, Sarpent—off with it,” resumed the inflexible
Deerslayer. “Such garments as little become you as they would become me.
Your gifts are for paint, and hawk’s feathers, and blankets, and wampum,
and mine are for doublets of skins, tough leggings, and sarviceable
moccasins. I say moccasins, Judith, for though white, living as I do in
the woods it’s necessary to take to some of the practyces of the woods,
for comfort’s sake and cheapness.”

“I see no reason, Deerslayer, why one man may not wear a scarlet coat, as
well as another,” returned the girl. “I wish I could see you in this
handsome garment.”

“See me in a coat fit for a Lord!—Well, Judith, if you wait till
that day, you’ll wait until you see me beyond reason and memory. No—no—gal,
my gifts are my gifts, and I’ll live and die in ’em, though I never bring
down another deer, or spear another salmon. What have I done that you
should wish to see me in such a flaunting coat, Judith?”

“Because I think, Deerslayer, that the false-tongued and false-hearted
young gallants of the garrisons, ought not alone to appear in fine
feathers, but that truth and honesty have their claims to be honored and
exalted.”

“And what exaltification”—the reader will have remarked that
Deerslayer had not very critically studied his dictionary—“and what
exaltification would it be to me, Judith, to be bedizened and bescarleted
like a Mingo chief that has just got his presents up from Quebec? No—no—I’m
well as I am; and if not, I can be no better. Lay the coat down on the
blanket, Sarpent, and let us look farther into the chist.”

The tempting garment, one surely that was never intended for Hutter, was
laid aside, and the examination proceeded. The male attire, all of which
corresponded with the coat in quality, was soon exhausted, and then
succeeded female. A beautiful dress of brocade, a little the worse from
negligent treatment, followed, and this time open exclamations of delight
escaped the lips of Judith. Much as the girl had been addicted to dress,
and favorable as had been her opportunities of seeing some little
pretension in that way among the wives of the different commandants, and
other ladies of the forts, never before had she beheld a tissue, or tints,
to equal those that were now so unexpectedly placed before her eyes. Her
rapture was almost childish, nor would she allow the inquiry to proceed,
until she had attired her person in a robe so unsuited to her habits and
her abode. With this end, she withdrew into her own room, where with hands
practised in such offices, she soon got rid of her own neat gown of linen,
and stood forth in the gay tints of the brocade. The dress happened to fit
the fine, full person of Judith, and certainly it had never adorned a
being better qualified by natural gifts to do credit to its really rich
hues and fine texture. When she returned, both Deerslayer and
Chingachgook, who had passed the brief time of her absence in taking a
second look at the male garments, arose in surprise, each permitting
exclamations of wonder and pleasure to escape him, in a way so unequivocal
as to add new lustre to the eyes of Judith, by flushing her cheeks with a
glow of triumph. Affecting, however, not to notice the impression she had
made, the girl seated herself with the stateliness of a queen, desiring
that the chest might be looked into, further.

“I don’t know a better way to treat with the Mingos, gal,” cried
Deerslayer, “than to send you ashore as you be, and to tell ’em that a
queen has arrived among ’em! They’ll give up old Hutter, and Hurry, and
Hetty, too, at such a spectacle!”

“I thought your tongue too honest to flatter, Deerslayer,” returned the
girl, gratified at this admiration more than she would have cared to own.
“One of the chief reasons of my respect for you, was your love for truth.”

“And ’tis truth, and solemn truth, Judith, and nothing else. Never did
eyes of mine gaze on as glorious a lookin’ creatur’ as you be yourself, at
this very moment! I’ve seen beauties in my time, too, both white and red;
and them that was renowned and talk’d of, far and near; but never have I
beheld one that could hold any comparison with what you are at this
blessed instant, Judith; never.”

The glance of delight which the girl bestowed on the frank-speaking hunter
in no degree lessened the effect of her charms, and as the humid eyes
blended with it a look of sensibility, perhaps Judith never appeared more
truly lovely, than at what the young man had called that “blessed
instant.” He shook his head, held it suspended a moment over the open
chest, like one in doubt, and then proceeded with the examination.

Several of the minor articles of female dress came next, all of a quality
to correspond with the gown. These were laid at Judith’s feet, in silence,
as if she had a natural claim to their possession. One or two, such as
gloves, and lace, the girl caught up, and appended to her already rich
attire in affected playfulness, but with the real design of decorating her
person as far as circumstances would allow. When these two remarkable
suits, male and female they might be termed, were removed, another canvas
covering separated the remainder of the articles from the part of the
chest which they had occupied. As soon as Deerslayer perceived this
arrangement he paused, doubtful of the propriety of proceeding any
further.

“Every man has his secrets, I suppose,” he said, “and all men have a right
to their enj’yment. We’ve got low enough in this chist in my judgment to
answer our wants, and it seems to me we should do well by going no
farther; and by letting Master Hutter have to himself, and his own
feelin’s, all that’s beneath this cover.

“Do you mean, Deerslayer, to offer these clothes to the Iroquois as
ransom?” demanded Judith, quickly.

“Sartain. What are we prying into another man’s chist for, but to sarve
its owner in the best way we can. This coat, alone, would be very apt to
gain over the head chief of the riptyles, and if his wife or darter should
happen to be out with him, that there gownd would soften the heart of any
woman that is to be found atween Albany and Montreal. I do not see that we
want a larger stock in trade than them two articles.”

“To you it may seem so, Deerslayer,” returned the disappointed girl, “but
of what use could a dress like this be to any Indian woman? She could not
wear it among the branches of the trees, the dirt and smoke of the wigwam
would soon soil it, and how would a pair of red arms appear, thrust
through these short, laced sleeves!”

“All very true, gal, and you might go on and say it is altogether out of
time, and place and season, in this region at all. What is it to us how
the finery is treated, so long as it answers our wishes? I do not see that
your father can make any use of such clothes, and it’s lucky he has things
that are of no valie to himself, that will bear a high price with others.
We can make no better trade for him, than to offer these duds for his
liberty. We’ll throw in the light frivol’ties, and get Hurry off in the
bargain.”

“Then you think, Deerslayer, that Thomas Hutter has no one in his family—no
child—no daughter, to whom this dress may be thought becoming, and
whom you could wish to see in it, once and awhile, even though it should
be at long intervals, and only in playfulness?”

“I understand you, Judith—yes, I now understand your meaning, and I
think I can say, your wishes. That you are as glorious in that dress as
the sun when it rises or sets in a soft October day, I’m ready to allow,
and that you greatly become it is a good deal more sartain than that it
becomes you. There’s gifts in clothes, as well as in other things. Now I
do not think that a warrior on his first path ought to lay on the same
awful paints as a chief that has had his virtue tried, and knows from
exper’ence he will not disgrace his pretensions. So it is with all of us,
red or white. You are Thomas Hutter’s darter, and that gownd was made for
the child of some governor, or a lady of high station, and it was intended
to be worn among fine furniture, and in rich company. In my eyes, Judith,
a modest maiden never looks more becoming than when becomingly clad, and
nothing is suitable that is out of character. Besides, gal, if there’s a
creatur’ in the colony that can afford to do without finery, and to trust
to her own good looks and sweet countenance, it’s yourself.”

“I’ll take off the rubbish this instant, Deerslayer,” cried the girl,
springing up to leave the room, “and never do I wish to see it on any
human being, again.”

“So it is with ’em, all, Sarpent,” said the other, turning to his friend
and laughing, as soon as the beauty had disappeared. “They like finery,
but they like their natyve charms most of all. I’m glad the gal has
consented to lay aside her furbelows, howsever, for it’s ag’in reason for
one of her class to wear em; and then she is handsome enough, as I call
it, to go alone. Hist would show oncommon likely, too, in such a gownd,
Delaware!”

“Wah-ta-Wah is a red-skin girl, Deerslayer,” returned the Indian, “like
the young of the pigeon, she is to be known by her own feathers. I should
pass by without knowing her, were she dressed in such a skin. It’s wisest
always to be so clad that our friends need not ask us for our names. The
‘Wild Rose’ is very pleasant, but she is no sweeter for so many colours.”

“That’s it!—that’s natur’, and the true foundation for love and
protection. When a man stoops to pick a wild strawberry, he does not
expect to find a melon; and when he wishes to gather a melon, he’s
disapp’inted if it proves to be a squash; though squashes be often
brighter to the eye than melons. That’s it, and it means stick to your
gifts, and your gifts will stick to you.”

The two men had now a little discussion together, touching the propriety
of penetrating any farther into the chest of Hutter, when Judith
re-appeared, divested of her robes, and in her own simple linen frock
again.

“Thank you, Judith,” said Deerslayer, taking her kindly by the hand—“for
I know it went a little ag’in the nat’ral cravings of woman, to lay aside
so much finery, as it might be in a lump. But you’re more pleasing to the
eye as you stand, you be, than if you had a crown on your head, and jewels
dangling from your hair. The question now is, whether to lift this
covering to see what will be ra’ally the best bargain we can make for
Master Hutter, for we must do as we think he would be willing to do, did
he stand here in our places.”

Judith looked very happy. Accustomed as she was to adulation, the homely
homage of Deerslayer had given her more true satisfaction, than she had
ever yet received from the tongue of man. It was not the terms in which
this admiration had been expressed, for they were simple enough, that
produced so strong an impression; nor yet their novelty, or their warmth
of manner, nor any of those peculiarities that usually give value to
praise; but the unflinching truth of the speaker, that carried his words
so directly to the heart of the listener. This is one of the great
advantages of plain dealing and frankness. The habitual and wily flatterer
may succeed until his practices recoil on himself, and like other sweets
his aliment cloys by its excess; but he who deals honestly, though he
often necessarily offends, possesses a power of praising that no quality
but sincerity can bestow, since his words go directly to the heart,
finding their support in the understanding. Thus it was with Deerslayer
and Judith. So soon and so deeply did this simple hunter impress those who
knew him with a conviction of his unbending honesty, that all he uttered
in commendation was as certain to please, as all he uttered in the way of
rebuke was as certain to rankle and excite enmity, where his character had
not awakened a respect and affection, that in another sense rendered it
painful. In after life, when the career of this untutored being brought
him in contact with officers of rank, and others entrusted with the care
of the interests of the state, this same influence was exerted on a wider
field, even generals listening to his commendations with a glow of
pleasure, that it was not always in the power of their official superiors
to awaken. Perhaps Judith was the first individual of his own colour who
fairly submitted to this natural consequence of truth and fair-dealing on
the part of Deerslayer. She had actually pined for his praise, and she had
now received it, and that in the form which was most agreeable to her
weaknesses and habits of thought. The result will appear in the course of
the narrative.

“If we knew all that chest holds, Deerslayer,” returned the girl, when she
had a little recovered from the immediate effect produced by his
commendations of her personal appearance, “we could better determine on
the course we ought to take.”

“That’s not onreasonable, gal, though it’s more a pale-face than a
red-skin gift to be prying into other people’s secrets.”

“Curiosity is natural, and it is expected that all human beings should
have human failings. Whenever I’ve been at the garrisons, I’ve found that
most in and about them had a longing to learn their neighbor’s secrets.”

“Yes, and sometimes to fancy them, when they couldn’t find ’em out! That’s
the difference atween an Indian gentleman and a white gentleman. The
Sarpent, here, would turn his head aside if he found himself onknowingly
lookin’ into another chief’s wigwam, whereas in the settlements while all
pretend to be great people, most prove they’ve got betters, by the manner
in which they talk of their consarns. I’ll be bound, Judith, you wouldn’t
get the Sarpent, there, to confess there was another in the tribe so much
greater than himself, as to become the subject of his idees, and to empl’y
his tongue in conversations about his movements, and ways, and food, and
all the other little matters that occupy a man when he’s not empl’y’d in
his greater duties. He who does this is but little better than a
blackguard, in the grain, and them that encourages him is pretty much of
the same kidney, let them wear coats as fine as they may, or of what dye
they please.”

“But this is not another man’s wigwam; it belongs to my father, these are
his things, and they are wanted in his service.”

“That’s true, gal; that’s true, and it carries weight with it. Well, when
all is before us we may, indeed, best judge which to offer for the ransom,
and which to withhold.”

Judith was not altogether as disinterested in her feelings as she affected
to be. She remembered that the curiosity of Hetty had been indulged in
connection with this chest, while her own had been disregarded, and she
was not sorry to possess an opportunity of being placed on a level with
her less gifted sister in this one particular. It appearing to be admitted
all round that the enquiry into the contents of the chest ought to be
renewed, Deerslayer proceeded to remove the second covering of canvass.

The articles that lay uppermost, when the curtain was again raised on the
secrets of the chest, were a pair of pistols, curiously inlaid with
silver. Their value would have been considerable in one of the towns,
though as weapons in the woods they were a species of arms seldom
employed; never, indeed, unless it might be by some officer from Europe,
who visited the colonies, as many were then wont to do, so much impressed
with the superiority of the usages of London as to fancy they were not to
be laid aside on the frontiers of America. What occurred on the discovery
of these weapons will appear in the succeeding chapter.


Chapter XIII.

No sooner did Deerslayer raise the pistols, than he turned to the Delaware
and held them up for his admiration.

“Child gun,” said the Serpent, smiling, while he handled one of the
instruments as if it had been a toy.

“Not it, Sarpent; not it—’twas made for a man and would satisfy a
giant, if rightly used. But stop; white men are remarkable for their
carelessness in putting away fire arms, in chists and corners. Let me look
if care has been given to these.”

As Deerslayer spoke, he took the weapon from the hand of his friend and
opened the pan. The last was filled with priming, caked like a bit of
cinder, by time, moisture and compression. An application of the ramrod
showed that both the pistols were charged, although Judith could testify
that they had probably lain for years in the chest. It is not easy to
portray the surprise of the Indian at this discovery, for he was in the
practice of renewing his priming daily, and of looking to the contents of
his piece at other short intervals.

“This is white neglect,” said Deerslayer, shaking his head, “and scarce a
season goes by that some one in the settlements doesn’t suffer from it.
It’s extr’ornary too, Judith—yes, it’s downright extr’ornary that
the owner shall fire his piece at a deer, or some other game, or perhaps
at an inimy, and twice out of three times he’ll miss; but let him catch an
accident with one of these forgotten charges, and he makes it sartain
death to a child, or a brother, or a fri’nd! Well, we shall do a good turn
to the owner if we fire these pistols for him, and as they’re novelties to
you and me, Sarpent, we’ll try our hands at a mark. Freshen that priming,
and I’ll do the same with this, and then we’ll see who is the best man
with a pistol; as for the rifle, that’s long been settled atween us.”

Deerslayer laughed heartily at his own conceit, and, in a minute or two,
they were both standing on the platform, selecting some object in the Ark
for their target. Judith was led by curiosity to their side.

“Stand back, gal, stand a little back; these we’pons have been long
loaded,” said Deerslayer, “and some accident may happen in the discharge.”
“Then you shall not fire them! Give them both to the Delaware; or it would
be better to unload them without firing.”

“That’s ag’in usage—and some people say, ag’in manhood; though I
hold to no such silly doctrine. We must fire ’em, Judith; yes, we must
fire ’em; though I foresee that neither will have any great reason to
boast of his skill.”

Judith, in the main, was a girl of great personal spirit, and her habits
prevented her from feeling any of the terror that is apt to come over her
sex at the report of fire arms. She had discharged many a rifle, and had
even been known to kill a deer, under circumstances that were favorable to
the effort. She submitted therefore, falling a little back by the side of
Deerslayer, giving the Indian the front of the platform to himself.
Chingachgook raised the weapon several times, endeavored to steady it by
using both hands, changed his attitude from one that was awkward to
another still more so, and finally drew the trigger with a sort of
desperate indifference, without having, in reality, secured any aim at
all. The consequence was, that instead of hitting the knot which had been
selected for the mark, he missed the ark altogether; the bullet skipping
along the water like a stone that was thrown by hand.

“Well done—Sarpent—well done—” cried Deerslayer
laughing, with his noiseless glee, “you’ve hit the lake, and that’s an
expl’ite for some men! I know’d it, and as much as said it, here, to
Judith; for your short we’pons don’t belong to red-skin gifts. You’ve hit
the lake, and that’s better than only hitting the air! Now, stand back and
let us see what white gifts can do with a white we’pon. A pistol isn’t a
rifle, but colour is colour.”

The aim of Deerslayer was both quick and steady, and the report followed
almost as soon as the weapon rose. Still the pistol hung fire, as it is
termed, and fragments of it flew in a dozen directions, some falling on
the roof of the castle, others in the Ark, and one in the water. Judith
screamed, and when the two men turned anxiously towards the girl she was
as pale as death, trembling in every limb.

“She’s wounded—yes, the poor gal’s wounded, Sarpent, though one
couldn’t foresee it, standing where she did. We’ll lead her in to a seat,
and we must do the best for her that our knowledge and skill can afford.”

Judith allowed herself to be supported to a seat, swallowed a mouthful of
the water that the Delaware offered her in a gourd, and, after a violent
fit of trembling that seemed ready to shake her fine frame to dissolution,
she burst into tears.

“The pain must be borne, poor Judith—yes, it must be borne,” said
Deerslayer, soothingly, “though I am far from wishing you not to weep; for
weeping often lightens galish feelin’s. Where can she be hurt, Sarpent? I
see no signs of blood, nor any rent of skin or garments?”

“I am uninjured, Deerslayer,” stammered the girl through her tears. “It’s
fright—nothing more, I do assure you, and, God be praised! no one, I
find, has been harmed by the accident.”

“This is extr’ornary!” exclaimed the unsuspecting and simple minded hunter—“I
thought, Judith, you’d been above settlement weaknesses, and that you was
a gal not to be frightened by the sound of a bursting we’pon—No—I
didn’t think you so skeary! Hetty might well have been startled; but
you’ve too much judgment and reason to be frightened when the danger’s all
over. They’re pleasant to the eye, chief, and changeful, but very
unsartain in their feelin’s!”

Shame kept Judith silent. There had been no acting in her agitation, but
all had fairly proceeded from sudden and uncontrollable alarm—an
alarm that she found almost as inexplicable to herself, as it proved to be
to her companions. Wiping away the traces of tears, however, she smiled
again, and was soon able to join in the laugh at her own folly.

“And you, Deerslayer,” she at length succeeded in saying—“are you,
indeed, altogether unhurt? It seems almost miraculous that a pistol should
have burst in your hand, and you escape without the loss of a limb, if not
of life!”

“Such wonders ar’n’t oncommon, at all, among worn out arms. The first
rifle they gave me play’d the same trick, and yet I liv’d through it,
though not as onharmless as I’ve got out of this affair. Thomas Hutter is
master of one pistol less than he was this morning, but, as it happened in
trying to sarve him, there’s no ground of complaint. Now, draw near, and
let us look farther into the inside of the chist.”

Judith, by this time, had so far gotten the better of her agitation as to
resume her seat, and the examination went on. The next article that
offered was enveloped in cloth, and on opening it, it proved to be one of
the mathematical instruments that were then in use among seamen,
possessing the usual ornaments and fastenings in brass. Deerslayer and
Chingachgook expressed their admiration and surprise at the appearance of
the unknown instrument, which was bright and glittering, having apparently
been well cared for.

“This goes beyond the surveyors, Judith!” Deerslayer exclaimed, after
turning the instrument several times in his hands. “I’ve seen all their
tools often, and wicked and heartless enough are they, for they never come
into the forest but to lead the way to waste and destruction; but none of
them have as designing a look as this! I fear me, after all, that Thomas
Hutter has journeyed into the wilderness with no fair intentions towards
its happiness. Did you ever see any of the cravings of a surveyor about
your father, gal?”

“He is no surveyor, Deerslayer, nor does he know the use of that
instrument, though he seems to own it. Do you suppose that Thomas Hutter
ever wore that coat? It is as much too large for him, as this instrument
is beyond his learning.”

“That’s it—that must be it, Sarpent, and the old fellow, by some
onknown means, has fallen heir to another man’s goods! They say he has
been a mariner, and no doubt this chist, and all it holds—ha! What
have we here?—This far out does the brass and black wood of the
tool!”

Deerslayer had opened a small bag, from which he was taking, one by one,
the pieces of a set of chessmen. They were of ivory, much larger than
common, and exquisitely wrought. Each piece represented the character or
thing after which it is named; the knights being mounted, the castles
stood on elephants, and even the pawns possessed the heads and busts of
men. The set was not complete, and a few fractures betrayed bad usage; but
all that was left had been carefully put away and preserved. Even Judith
expressed wonder, as these novel objects were placed before her eyes, and
Chingachgook fairly forgot his Indian dignity in admiration and delight.
The latter took up each piece, and examined it with never tiring
satisfaction, pointing out to the girl the more ingenious and striking
portions of the workmanship. But the elephants gave him the greatest
pleasure. The “Hughs!” that he uttered, as he passed his fingers over
their trunks, and ears, and tails, were very distinct, nor did he fail to
note the pawns, which were armed as archers. This exhibition lasted
several minutes, during which time Judith and the Indian had all the
rapture to themselves. Deerslayer sat silent, thoughtful, and even gloomy,
though his eyes followed each movement of the two principal actors, noting
every new peculiarity about the pieces as they were held up to view. Not
an exclamation of pleasure, nor a word of condemnation passed his lips. At
length his companions observed his silence, and then, for the first time
since the chessmen had been discovered, did he speak.

“Judith,” he asked earnestly, but with a concern that amounted almost to
tenderness of manner, “did your parents ever talk to you of religion?”

The girl coloured, and the flashes of crimson that passed over her
beautiful countenance were like the wayward tints of a Neapolitan sky in
November. Deerslayer had given her so strong a taste for truth, however,
that she did not waver in her answer, replying simply and with sincerity.

“My mother did often,” she said, “my father never. I thought it made my
mother sorrowful to speak of our prayers and duties, but my father has
never opened his mouth on such matters, before or since her death.”

“That I can believe—that I can believe. He has no God—no such
God as it becomes a man of white skin to worship, or even a red-skin. Them
things are idols!”

Judith started, and for a moment she seemed seriously hurt. Then she
reflected, and in the end she laughed. “And you think, Deerslayer, that
these ivory toys are my father’s Gods? I have heard of idols, and know
what they are.”

“Them are idols!” repeated the other, positively. “Why should your father
keep ’em, if he doesn’t worship ’em.”

“Would he keep his gods in a bag, and locked up in a chest? No, no,
Deerslayer; my poor father carries his God with him, wherever he goes, and
that is in his own cravings. These things may really be idols—I
think they are myself, from what I have heard and read of idolatry, but
they have come from some distant country, and like all the other articles,
have fallen into Thomas Hutter’s hands when he was a sailor.”

“I’m glad of it—I am downright glad to hear it, Judith, for I do not
think I could have mustered the resolution to strive to help a white
idolater out of his difficulties! The old man is of my colour and nation
and I wish to sarve him, but as one who denied all his gifts, in the way
of religion, it would have come hard to do so. That animal seems to give
you great satisfaction, Sarpent, though it’s an idolatrous beast at the
best.”

“It is an elephant,” interrupted Judith. “I’ve often seen pictures of such
animals, at the garrisons, and mother had a book in which there was a
printed account of the creature. Father burnt that with all the other
books, for he said Mother loved reading too well. This was not long before
mother died, and I’ve sometimes thought that the loss hastened her end.”

This was said equally without levity and without any very deep feeling. It
was said without levity, for Judith was saddened by her recollections, and
yet she had been too much accustomed to live for self, and for the
indulgence of her own vanities, to feel her mother’s wrongs very keenly.
It required extraordinary circumstances to awaken a proper sense of her
situation, and to stimulate the better feelings of this beautiful, but
misguided girl, and those circumstances had not yet occurred in her brief
existence.

“Elephant, or no elephant, ’tis an idol,” returned the hunter, “and not
fit to remain in Christian keeping.”

“Good for Iroquois!” said Chingachgook, parting with one of the castles
with reluctance, as his friend took it from him to replace it in the bag—“Elephon
buy whole tribe—buy Delaware, almost!”

“Ay, that it would, as any one who comprehends red-skin natur’ must know,”
answered Deerslayer, “but the man that passes false money, Sarpent, is as
bad as he who makes it. Did you ever know a just Injin that wouldn’t scorn
to sell a ‘coon skin for the true marten, or to pass off a mink for a
beaver. I know that a few of these idols, perhaps one of them elephants,
would go far towards buying Thomas Hutter’s liberty, but it goes ag’in
conscience to pass such counterfeit money. Perhaps no Injin tribe,
hereaway, is downright idolators but there’s some that come so near it,
that white gifts ought to be particular about encouraging them in their
mistake.”

“If idolatry is a gift, Deerslayer, and gifts are what you seem to think
them, idolatry in such people can hardly be a sin,” said Judith with more
smartness than discrimination.

“God grants no such gifts to any of his creatur’s, Judith,” returned the
hunter, seriously. “He must be adored, under some name or other, and not
creatur’s of brass or ivory. It matters not whether the Father of All is
called God, or Manitou, Deity or Great Spirit, he is none the less our
common maker and master; nor does it count for much whether the souls of
the just go to Paradise, or Happy Hunting Grounds, since He may send each
his own way, as suits his own pleasure and wisdom; but it curdles my
blood, when I find human mortals so bound up in darkness and consait, as
to fashion the ‘arth, or wood, or bones, things made by their own hands,
into motionless, senseless effigies, and then fall down afore them, and
worship ’em as a Deity!”

“After all, Deerslayer, these pieces of ivory may not be idols, at all. I
remember, now, to have seen one of the officers at the garrison with a set
of fox and geese made in some such a design as these, and here is
something hard, wrapped in cloth, that may belong to your idols.”

Deerslayer took the bundle the girl gave him, and unrolling it, he found
the board within. Like the pieces it was large, rich, and inlaid with
ebony and ivory. Putting the whole in conjunction the hunter, though not
without many misgivings, slowly came over to Judith’s opinion, and finally
admitted that the fancied idols must be merely the curiously carved men of
some unknown game. Judith had the tact to use her victory with great
moderation, nor did she once, even in the most indirect manner, allude to
the ludicrous mistake of her companion.

This discovery of the uses of the extraordinary-looking little images
settled the affair of the proposed ransom. It was agreed generally, and
all understood the weaknesses and tastes of Indians, that nothing could be
more likely to tempt the cupidity of the Iroquois than the elephants, in
particular. Luckily the whole of the castles were among the pieces, and
these four tower-bearing animals it was finally determined should be the
ransom offered. The remainder of the men, and, indeed, all the rest of the
articles in the chest, were to be kept out of view, and to be resorted to
only as a last appeal. As soon as these preliminaries were settled,
everything but those intended for the bribe was carefully replaced in the
chest, all the covers were ‘tucked in’ as they had been found, and it was
quite possible, could Hutter have been put in possession of the castle
again, that he might have passed the remainder of his days in it without
even suspecting the invasion that had been made on the privacy of the
chest. The rent pistol would have been the most likely to reveal the
secret, but this was placed by the side of its fellow, and all were
pressed down as before, some half a dozen packages in the bottom of the
chest not having been opened at all. When this was done the lid was
lowered, the padlocks replaced, and the key turned. The latter was then
replaced in the pocket from which it had been taken.

More than an hour was consumed in settling the course proper to be
pursued, and in returning everything to its place. The pauses to converse
were frequent, and Judith, who experienced a lively pleasure in the open,
undisguised admiration with which Deerslayer’s honest eyes gazed at her
handsome face, found the means to prolong the interview, with a dexterity
that seems to be innate in female coquetry. Deerslayer, indeed, appeared
to be the first who was conscious of the time that had been thus wasted,
and to call the attention of his companions to the necessity of doing
something towards putting the plan of ransoming into execution.
Chingachgook had remained in Hutter’s bed room, where the elephants were
laid, to feast his eyes with the images of animals so wonderful, and so
novel. Perhaps an instinct told him that his presence would not be as
acceptable to his companions as this holding himself aloof, for Judith had
not much reserve in the manifestations of her preferences, and the
Delaware had not got so far as one betrothed without acquiring some
knowledge of the symptoms of the master passion.

“Well, Judith,” said Deerslayer, rising, after the interview had lasted
much longer than even he himself suspected, “’tis pleasant convarsing with
you, and settling all these matters, but duty calls us another way. All
this time, Hurry and your father, not to say Hetty—” The word was
cut short in the speaker’s mouth, for, at that critical moment, a light
step was heard on the platform, or ‘court-yard’, a human figure darkened
the doorway, and the person last mentioned stood before him. The low
exclamation that escaped Deerslayer and the slight scream of Judith were
hardly uttered, when an Indian youth, between the ages of fifteen and
seventeen, stood beside her. These two entrances had been made with
moccasined feet, and consequently almost without noise, but, unexpected
and stealthy as they were, they had not the effect to disturb Deerslayer’s
self possession. His first measure was to speak rapidly in Delaware to his
friend, cautioning him to keep out of sight, while he stood on his guard;
the second was to step to the door to ascertain the extent of the danger.
No one else, however, had come, and a simple contrivance, in the shape of
a raft, that lay floating at the side of the Ark, at once explained the
means that had been used in bringing Hetty off. Two dead and dry, and
consequently buoyant, logs of pine were bound together with pins and
withes and a little platform of riven chestnut had been rudely placed on
their surfaces. Here Hetty had been seated, on a billet of wood, while the
young Iroquois had rowed the primitive and slow-moving, but perfectly safe
craft from the shore.

As soon as Deerslayer had taken a close survey of this raft, and satisfied
himself nothing else was near, he shook his head and muttered in his
soliloquizing way—“This comes of prying into another man’s chist!
Had we been watchful, and keen eyed, such a surprise could never have
happened, and, getting this much from a boy teaches us what we may expect
when the old warriors set themselves fairly about their sarcumventions. It
opens the way, howsever, to a treaty for the ransom, and I will hear what
Hetty has to say.”

Judith, as soon as her surprise and alarm had a little abated, discovered
a proper share of affectionate joy at the return of her sister. She folded
her to her bosom, and kissed her, as had been her wont in the days of
their childhood and innocence. Hetty herself was less affected, for to her
there was no surprise, and her nerves were sustained by the purity and
holiness of her purpose. At her sister’s request she took a seat, and
entered into an account of her adventures since they had parted. Her tale
commenced just as Deerslayer returned, and he also became an attentive
listener, while the young Iroquois stood near the door, seemingly as
indifferent to what was passing as one of its posts.

The narrative of the girl was sufficiently clear, until she reached the
time where we left her in the camp, after the interview with the chiefs,
and, at the moment when Hist quitted her, in the abrupt manner already
related. The sequel of the story may be told in her own language.

“When I read the texts to the chiefs, Judith, you could not have seen that
they made any changes on their minds,” she said, “but if seed is planted,
it will grow. God planted the seeds of all these trees—”

“Ay that did he—that did he—” muttered Deerslayer; “and a
goodly harvest has followed.”

“God planted the seeds of all these trees,” continued Hetty, after a
moment’s pause, “and you see to what a height and shade they have grown!
So it is with the Bible. You may read a verse this year, and forget it,
and it will come back to you a year hence, when you least expect to
remember it.”

“And did you find any thing of this among the savages, poor Hetty?”

“Yes, Judith, and sooner and more fully than I had even hoped. I did not
stay long with father and Hurry, but went to get my breakfast with Hist.
As soon as we had done the chiefs came to us, and then we found the fruits
of the seed that had been planted. They said what I had read from the good
book was right—it must be right—it sounded right; like a sweet
bird singing in their ears; and they told me to come back and say as much
to the great warrior who had slain one of their braves; and to tell it to
you, and to say how happy they should be to come to church here, in the
castle, or to come out in the sun, and hear me read more of the sacred
volume—and to tell you that they wish you would lend them some
canoes that they can bring father and Hurry and their women to the castle,
that we might all sit on the platform there and listen to the singing of
the Pale-face Manitou. There, Judith; did you ever know of any thing that
so plainly shows the power of the Bible, as that!”

“If it were true ‘t would be a miracle, indeed, Hetty. But all this is no
more than Indian cunning and Indian treachery, striving to get the better
of us by management, when they find it is not to be done by force.”

“Do you doubt the Bible, sister, that you judge the savages so harshly!”

“I do not doubt the Bible, poor Hetty, but I much doubt an Indian and an
Iroquois. What do you say to this visit, Deerslayer?”

“First let me talk a little with Hetty,” returned the party appealed to;
“Was the raft made a’ter you had got your breakfast, gal, and did you walk
from the camp to the shore opposite to us, here?”

“Oh! no, Deerslayer. The raft was ready made and in the water—could
that have been by a miracle, Judith?”

“Yes—yes—an Indian miracle,” rejoined the hunter—“They’re
expart enough in them sort of miracles. And you found the raft ready made
to your hands, and in the water, and in waiting like for its cargo?”

“It was all as you say. The raft was near the camp, and the Indians put me
on it, and had ropes of bark, and they dragged me to the place opposite to
the castle, and then they told that young man to row me off, here.”

“And the woods are full of the vagabonds, waiting to know what is to be
the upshot of the miracle. We comprehend this affair, now, Judith, but
I’ll first get rid of this young Canada blood sucker, and then we’ll
settle our own course. Do you and Hetty leave us together, first bringing
me the elephants, which the Sarpent is admiring, for ’twill never do to
let this loping deer be alone a minute, or he’ll borrow a canoe without
asking.”

Judith did as desired, first bringing the pieces, and retiring with her
sister into their own room. Deerslayer had acquired some knowledge of most
of the Indian dialects of that region, and he knew enough of the Iroquois
to hold a dialogue in the language. Beckoning to the lad, therefore, he
caused him to take a seat on the chest, when he placed two of the castles
suddenly before him. Up to that moment, this youthful savage had not
expressed a single intelligible emotion, or fancy. There were many things,
in and about the place, that were novelties to him, but he had maintained
his self-command with philosophical composure. It is true, Deerslayer had
detected his dark eye scanning the defences and the arms, but the scrutiny
had been made with such an air of innocence, in such a gaping, indolent,
boyish manner, that no one but a man who had himself been taught in a
similar school, would have even suspected his object. The instant,
however, the eyes of the savage fell upon the wrought ivory, and the
images of the wonderful, unknown beasts, surprise and admiration got the
mastery of him. The manner in which the natives of the South Sea Islands
first beheld the toys of civilized life has been often described, but the
reader is not to confound it with the manner of an American Indian, under
similar circumstances. In this particular case, the young Iroquois or
Huron permitted an exclamation of rapture to escape him, and then he
checked himself like one who had been guilty of an indecorum. After this,
his eyes ceased to wander, but became riveted on the elephants, one of
which, after a short hesitation, he even presumed to handle. Deerslayer
did not interrupt him for quite ten minutes, knowing that the lad was
taking such note of the curiosities, as would enable him to give the most
minute and accurate description of their appearance to his seniors, on his
return. When he thought sufficient time had been allowed to produce the
desired effect, the hunter laid a finger on the naked knee of the youth
and drew his attention to himself.

“Listen,” he said; “I want to talk with my young friend from the Canadas.
Let him forget that wonder for a minute.”

“Where t’other pale brother?” demanded the boy, looking up and letting the
idea that had been most prominent in his mind, previously to the
introduction of the chess men, escape him involuntarily.

“He sleeps, or if he isn’t fairly asleep, he is in the room where the men
do sleep,” returned Deerslayer. “How did my young friend know there was
another?”

“See him from the shore. Iroquois have got long eyes—see beyond the
clouds—see the bottom of the Great Spring!”

“Well, the Iroquois are welcome. Two pale-faces are prisoners in the camp
of your fathers, boy.”

The lad nodded, treating the circumstance with great apparent
indifference; though a moment after he laughed as if exulting in the
superior address of his own tribe.

“Can you tell me, boy, what your chiefs intend to do with these captyves,
or haven’t they yet made up their minds?”

The lad looked a moment at the hunter with a little surprise. Then he
coolly put the end of his fore finger on his own head, just above the left
ear, and passed it round his crown with an accuracy and readiness that
showed how well he had been drilled in the peculiar art of his race.

“When?” demanded Deerslayer, whose gorge rose at this cool demonstration
of indifference to human life. “And why not take them to your wigwams?”

“Road too long, and full of pale-faces. Wigwam full, and scalps sell high.
Small scalp, much gold.”

“Well that explains it—yes, that does explain it. There’s no need of
being any plainer. Now you know, lad, that the oldest of your prisoners is
the father of these two young women, and the other is the suitor of one of
them. The gals nat’rally wish to save the scalps of such fri’nds, and they
will give them two ivory creaturs, as ransom. One for each scalp. Go back
and tell this to your chiefs, and bring me the answer before the sun
sets.”

The boy entered zealously into this project, and with a sincerity that
left no doubt of his executing his commission with intelligence and
promptitude. For a moment he forgot his love of honor, and all his
clannish hostility to the British and their Indians, in his wish to have
such a treasure in his tribe, and Deerslayer was satisfied with the
impression he had made. It is true the lad proposed to carry one of the
elephants with him, as a specimen of the other, but to this his brother
negotiator was too sagacious to consent; well knowing that it might never
reach its destination if confided to such hands. This little difficulty
was soon arranged, and the boy prepared to depart. As he stood on the
platform, ready to step aboard of the raft, he hesitated, and turned short
with a proposal to borrow a canoe, as the means most likely to shorten the
negotiations. Deerslayer quietly refused the request, and, after lingering
a little longer, the boy rowed slowly away from the castle, taking the
direction of a thicket on the shore that lay less than half a mile
distant. Deerslayer seated himself on a stool and watched the progress of
the ambassador, sometimes closely scanning the whole line of shore, as far
as eye could reach, and then placing an elbow on a knee, he remained a
long time with his chin resting on the hand.

During the interview between Deerslayer and the lad, a different scene
took place in the adjoining room. Hetty had inquired for the Delaware, and
being told why and where he remained concealed, she joined him. The
reception which Chingachgook gave his visitor was respectful and gentle.
He understood her character, and, no doubt, his disposition to be kind to
such a being was increased by the hope of learning some tidings of his
betrothed. As soon as the girl entered she took a seat, and invited the
Indian to place himself near her; then she continued silent, as if she
thought it decorous for him to question her, before she consented to speak
on the subject she had on her mind. But, as Chingachgook did not
understand this feeling, he remained respectfully attentive to any thing
she might be pleased to tell him.

“You are Chingachgook, the Great Serpent of the Delawares, ar’n’t you?”
the girl at length commenced, in her own simple way losing her
self-command in the desire to proceed, but anxious first to make sure of
the individual. “Chingachgook,” returned the Delaware with grave dignity.
“That say Great Sarpent, in Deerslayer tongue.”

“Well, that is my tongue. Deerslayer, and father, and Judith, and I, and
poor Hurry Harry—do you know Henry March, Great Serpent? I know you
don’t, however, or he would have spoken of you, too.”

“Did any tongue name Chingachgook, Drooping-Lily”? for so the chief had
named poor Hetty. “Was his name sung by a little bird among Iroquois?”

Hetty did not answer at first, but, with that indescribable feeling that
awakens sympathy and intelligence among the youthful and unpracticed of
her sex, she hung her head, and the blood suffused her cheek ere she found
her tongue. It would have exceeded her stock of intelligence to explain
this embarrassment, but, though poor Hetty could not reason, on every
emergency, she could always feel. The colour slowly receded from her
cheeks, and the girl looked up archly at the Indian, smiling with the
innocence of a child, mingled with the interest of a woman.

“My sister, the Drooping Lily, hear such bird!” Chingachgook added, and
this with a gentleness of tone and manner that would have astonished those
who sometimes heard the discordant cries that often came from the same
throat; these transitions from the harsh and guttural, to the soft and
melodious not being infrequent in ordinary Indian dialogues. “My sister’s
ears were open—has she lost her tongue?”

“You are Chingachgook—you must be; for there is no other red man
here, and she thought Chingachgook would come.”

“Chin-gach-gook,” pronouncing the name slowly, and dwelling on each
syllable—“Great Sarpent, Yengeese tongue.”

[It is singular there should be any question concerning the origin of the
well-known sobriquet of “Yankees.” Nearly all the old writers who speak of
the Indians first known to the colonists make them pronounce the word
“English” as “Yengeese.” Even at this day, it is a provincialism of New
England to say “Anglish” instead of “Inglish,” and there is a close
conformity of sound between “Anglish” and “yengeese,” more especially if
the latter word, as was probably the case, be pronounced short. The
transition from “Yengeese,” thus pronounced, to “Yankees” is quite easy.
If the former is pronounced “Yangis,” it is almost identical with
“Yankees,” and Indian words have seldom been spelt as they are pronounced.
Thus the scene of this tale is spelt “Otsego,” and is properly pronounced
“Otsago.” The liquids of the Indians would easily convert “En” into
“Yen.”]

“Chin-gach-gook,” repeated Hetty, in the same deliberate manner. “Yes, so
Hist called it, and you must be the chief.”

“Wah-ta-Wah,” added the Delaware.

“Wah-ta-Wah, or Hist-oh-Hist. I think Hist prettier than Wah, and so I
call her Hist.”

“Wah very sweet in Delaware ears!”

“You make it sound differently from me. But, never mind, I did hear the
bird you speak of sing, Great Serpent.”

“Will my sister say words of song? What she sing most—how she look—often
she laugh?”

“She sang Chin-gach-gook oftener than any thing else; and she laughed
heartily, when I told how the Iroquois waded into the water after us, and
couldn’t catch us. I hope these logs haven’t ears, Serpent!”

“No fear logs; fear sister next room. No fear Iroquois; Deerslayer stuff
his eyes and ears with strange beast.”

“I understand you, Serpent, and I understood Hist. Sometimes I think I’m
not half as feeble minded as they say I am. Now, do you look up at the
roof, and I’ll tell you all. But you frighten me, you look so eager when I
speak of Hist.”

The Indian controlled his looks, and affected to comply with the simple
request of the girl.

“Hist told me to say, in a very low voice, that you mustn’t trust the
Iroquois in anything. They are more artful than any Indians she knows.
Then she says that there is a large bright star that comes over the hill,
about an hour after dark”—Hist had pointed out the planet Jupiter,
without knowing it—“and just as that star comes in sight, she will
be on the point, where I landed last night, and that you must come for
her, in a canoe.”

“Good—Chingachgook understand well enough, now; but he understand
better if my sister sing him ag’in.”

Hetty repeated her words, more fully explaining what star was meant, and
mentioning the part of the point where he was to venture ashore. She now
proceeded in her own unsophisticated way to relate her intercourse with
the Indian maid, and to repeat several of her expressions and opinions
that gave great delight to the heart of her betrothed. She particularly
renewed her injunctions to be on their guard against treachery, a warning
that was scarcely needed, however, as addressed to men as wary as those to
whom it was sent. She also explained with sufficient clearness, for on all
such subjects the mind of the girl seldom failed her, the present state of
the enemy, and the movements they had made since morning. Hist had been on
the raft with her until it quitted the shore, and was now somewhere in the
woods, opposite to the castle, and did not intend to return to the camp
until night approached; when she hoped to be able to slip away from her
companions, as they followed the shore on their way home, and conceal
herself on the point. No one appeared to suspect the presence of
Chingachgook, though it was necessarily known that an Indian had entered
the Ark the previous night, and it was suspected that he had since
appeared in and about the castle in the dress of a pale-face. Still some
little doubt existed on the latter point, for, as this was the season when
white men might be expected to arrive, there was some fear that the
garrison of the castle was increasing by these ordinary means. All this
had Hist communicated to Hetty while the Indians were dragging them along
shore, the distance, which exceeded six miles, affording abundance of
time.

“Hist don’t know, herself, whether they suspect her or not, or whether
they suspect you, but she hopes neither is the case. And now, Serpent,
since I have told you so much from your betrothed,” continued Hetty,
unconsciously taking one of the Indian’s hands, and playing with the
fingers, as a child is often seen to play with those of a parent, “you
must let me tell you something from myself. When you marry Hist, you must
be kind to her, and smile on her, as you do now on me, and not look cross
as some of the chiefs do at their squaws. Will you promise this?”

“Alway good to Wah!—too tender to twist hard; else she break.”

“Yes, and smile, too; you don’t know how much a girl craves smiles from
them she loves. Father scarce smiled on me once, while I was with him—and,
Hurry—Yes—Hurry talked loud and laughed, but I don’t think he
smiled once either. You know the difference between a smile and a laugh?”

“Laugh, best. Hear Wah laugh, think bird sing!”

“I know that; her laugh is pleasant, but you must smile. And then,
Serpent, you mustn’t make her carry burthens and hoe corn, as so many
Indians do; but treat her more as the pale-faces treat their wives.”

“Wah-ta-Wah no pale-face—got red-skin; red heart, red feelin’s. All
red; no pale-face. Must carry papoose.”

“Every woman is willing to carry her child,” said Hetty smiling, “and
there is no harm in that. But you must love Hist, and be gentle, and good
to her; for she is gentle and good herself.”

Chingachgook gravely bowed, and then he seemed to think this part of the
subject might be dismissed. Before there was time for Hetty to resume her
communications, the voice of Deerslayer was heard calling on his friend,
in the outer room. At this summons the Serpent arose to obey, and Hetty
joined her sister.


Chapter XIV.

The first act of the Delaware, on rejoining his friend, was to proceed
gravely to disencumber himself of his civilized attire, and to stand forth
an Indian warrior again. The protest of Deerslayer was met by his
communicating the fact that the presence of an Indian in the hut was known
to the Iroquois, and that maintaining the disguise would be more likely to
direct suspicions to his real object, than if he came out openly as a
member of a hostile tribe. When the latter understood the truth, and was
told that he had been deceived in supposing the chief had succeeded in
entering the Ark undiscovered, he cheerfully consented to the change,
since further attempt at concealment was useless. A gentler feeling than
the one avowed, however, lay at the bottom of the Indian’s desire to
appear as a son of the forest. He had been told that Hist was on the
opposite shore, and nature so far triumphed over all distinctions of
habit, and tribes and people, as to reduce this young savage warrior to
the level of a feeling which would have been found in the most refined
inhabitant of a town, under similar circumstances. There was a mild
satisfaction in believing that she he loved could see him, and as he
walked out on the platform in his scanty, native attire, an Apollo of the
wilderness, a hundred of the tender fancies that fleet through lovers’
brains beset his imagination and softened his heart. All this was lost on
Deerslayer, who was no great adept in the mysteries of Cupid, but whose
mind was far more occupied with the concerns that forced themselves on his
attention, than with any of the truant fancies of love. He soon recalled
his companion, therefore, to a sense of their actual condition, by
summoning him to a sort of council of war, in which they were to settle
their future course. In the dialogue that followed, the parties mutually
made each other acquainted with what had passed in their several
interviews. Chingachgook was told the history of the treaty about the
ransom, and Deerslayer heard the whole of Hetty’s communications. The
latter listened with generous interest to his friend’s hopes, and promised
cheerfully all the assistance he could lend.

“Tis our main ar’n’d, Sarpent, as you know, this battling for the castle
and old Hutter’s darters, coming in as a sort of accident. Yes—yes—I’ll
be actyve in helping little Hist, who’s not only one of the best and
handsomest maidens of the tribe, but the very best and handsomest. I’ve
always encouraged you, chief, in that liking, and it’s proper, too, that a
great and ancient race like your’n shouldn’t come to an end. If a woman of
red skin and red gifts could get to be near enough to me to wish her for a
wife, I’d s’arch for just such another, but that can never be; no, that
can never be. I’m glad Hetty has met with Hist, howsever, for though the
first is a little short of wit and understanding, the last has enough for
both. Yes, Sarpent,” laughing heartily—“put ’em together, and two
smarter gals isn’t to be found in all York Colony!”

“I will go to the Iroquois camp,” returned the Delaware, gravely. “No one
knows Chingachgook but Wah, and a treaty for lives and scalps should be
made by a chief. Give me the strange beasts, and let me take a canoe.”

Deerslayer dropped his head and played with the end of a fish-pole in the
water, as he sat dangling his legs over the edge of the platform, like a
man who was lost in thought by the sudden occurrence of a novel idea.
Instead of directly answering the proposal of his friend, he began to
soliloquize, a circumstance however that in no manner rendered his words
more true, as he was remarkable for saying what he thought, whether the
remarks were addressed to himself, or to any one else.

“Yes—yes—” he said—“this must be what they call love!
I’ve heard say that it sometimes upsets reason altogether, leaving a young
man as helpless, as to calculation and caution, as a brute beast. To think
that the Sarpent should be so lost to reason, and cunning, and wisdom! We
must sartainly manage to get Hist off, and have ’em married as soon as we
get back to the tribe, or this war will be of no more use to the chief,
than a hunt a little oncommon extr’ornary. Yes—Yes—he’ll never
be the man he was, till this matter is off his mind, and he comes to his
senses like all the rest of mankind. Sarpent, you can’t be in airnest, and
therefore I shall say but little to your offer. But you’re a chief, and
will soon be sent out on the war path at head of the parties, and I’ll
just ask if you’d think of putting your forces into the inimy’s hands,
afore the battle is fou’t?”

“Wah!” ejaculated the Indian.

“Ay—Wah—I know well enough it’s Wah, and altogether Wah—Ra’ally,
Sarpent, I’m consarned and mortified about you! I never heard so weak an
idee come from a chief, and he, too, one that’s already got a name for
being wise, young and inexper’enced as he is. Canoe you sha’n’t have, so
long as the v’ice of fri’ndship and warning can count for any thing.”

“My pale-face friend is right. A cloud came over the face of Chingachgook,
and weakness got into his mind, while his eyes were dim. My brother has a
good memory for good deeds, and a weak memory for bad. He will forget.”

“Yes, that’s easy enough. Say no more about it chief, but if another of
them clouds blow near you, do your endivours to get out of its way. Clouds
are bad enough in the weather, but when they come to the reason, it gets
to be serious. Now, sit down by me here, and let us calculate our
movements a little, for we shall soon either have a truce and a peace, or
we shall come to an actyve and bloody war. You see the vagabonds can make
logs sarve their turn, as well as the best raftsmen on the rivers, and it
would be no great expl’ite for them to invade us in a body. I’ve been
thinking of the wisdom of putting all old Tom’s stores into the Ark, of
barring and locking up the Castle, and of taking to the Ark, altogether.
That is moveable, and by keeping the sail up, and shifting places, we
might worry through a great many nights, without them Canada wolves
finding a way into our sheep fold!”

Chingachgook listened to this plan with approbation. Did the negotiation
fail, there was now little hope that the night would pass without an
assault, and the enemy had sagacity enough to understand that in carrying
the castle they would probably become masters of all it contained, the
offered ransom included, and still retain the advantages they had hitherto
gained. Some precaution of the sort appeared to be absolutely necessary,
for now the numbers of the Iroquois were known, a night attack could
scarcely be successfully met. It would be impossible to prevent the enemy
from getting possession of the canoes and the Ark, and the latter itself
would be a hold in which the assailants would be as effectually protected
against bullets as were those in the building. For a few minutes, both the
men thought of sinking the Ark in the shallow water, of bringing the
canoes into the house, and of depending altogether on the castle for
protection. But reflection satisfied them that, in the end, this expedient
would fail. It was so easy to collect logs on the shore, and to construct
a raft of almost any size, that it was certain the Iroquois, now they had
turned their attention to such means, would resort to them seriously, so
long as there was the certainty of success by perseverance. After
deliberating maturely, and placing all the considerations fairly before
them, the two young beginners in the art of forest warfare settled down
into the opinion that the Ark offered the only available means of
security. This decision was no sooner come to, than it was communicated to
Judith. The girl had no serious objection to make, and all four set about
the measures necessary to carrying the plan into execution.

The reader will readily understand that Floating Tom’s worldly goods were
of no great amount. A couple of beds, some wearing apparel, the arms and
ammunition, a few cooking utensils, with the mysterious and but half
examined chest formed the principal items. These were all soon removed,
the Ark having been hauled on the eastern side of the building, so that
the transfer could be made without being seen from the shore. It was
thought unnecessary to disturb the heavier and coarser articles of
furniture, as they were not required in the Ark, and were of but little
value in themselves. As great caution was necessary in removing the
different objects, most of which were passed out of a window with a view
to conceal what was going on, it required two or three hours before all
could be effected. By the expiration of that time, the raft made its
appearance, moving from the shore. Deerslayer immediately had recourse to
the glass, by the aid of which he perceived that two warriors were on it,
though they appeared to be unarmed. The progress of the raft was slow, a
circumstance that formed one of the great advantages that would be
possessed by the scow, in any future collision between them, the movements
of the latter being comparatively swift and light. As there was time to
make the dispositions for the reception of the two dangerous visitors,
everything was prepared for them, long before they had got near enough to
be hailed. The Serpent and the girls retired into the building, where the
former stood near the door, well provided with rifles, while Judith
watched the proceedings without through a loop. As for Deerslayer, he had
brought a stool to the edge of the platform, at the point towards which
the raft was advancing, and taken his seat with his rifle leaning
carelessly between his legs.

As the raft drew nearer, every means possessed by the party in the castle
was resorted to, in order to ascertain if their visitors had any firearms.
Neither Deerslayer nor Chingachgook could discover any, but Judith,
unwilling to trust to simple eyesight, thrust the glass through the loop,
and directed it towards the hemlock boughs that lay between the two logs
of the raft, forming a sort of flooring, as well as a seat for the use of
the rowers. When the heavy moving craft was within fifty feet of him,
Deerslayer hailed the Hurons, directing them to cease rowing, it not being
his intention to permit them to land. Compliance, of course, was
necessary, and the two grim-looking warriors instantly quitted their
seats, though the raft continued slowly to approach, until it had driven
in much nearer to the platform.

“Are ye chiefs?” demanded Deerslayer with dignity—“Are ye chiefs?—Or
have the Mingos sent me warriors without names, on such an ar’n’d? If so,
the sooner ye go back, the sooner them will be likely to come that a
warrior can talk with.”

“Hugh!” exclaimed the elder of the two on the raft, rolling his glowing
eyes over the different objects that were visible in and about the Castle,
with a keenness that showed how little escaped him. “My brother is very
proud, but Rivenoak (we use the literal translation of the term, writing
as we do in English) is a name to make a Delaware turn pale.”

“That’s true, or it’s a lie, Rivenoak, as it may be; but I am not likely
to turn pale, seeing that I was born pale. What’s your ar’n’d, and why do
you come among light bark canoes, on logs that are not even dug out?”

“The Iroquois are not ducks, to walk on water! Let the pale-faces give
them a canoe, and they’ll come in a canoe.”

“That’s more rational, than likely to come to pass. We have but four
canoes, and being four persons that’s only one for each of us. We thank
you for the offer, howsever, though we ask leave not to accept it. You are
welcome, Iroquois, on your logs.”

“Thanks—My young pale-face warrior—he has got a name—how
do the chiefs call him?”

Deerslayer hesitated a moment, and a gleam of pride and human weakness
came over him. He smiled, muttered between his teeth, and then looking up
proudly, he said—“Mingo, like all who are young and actyve, I’ve
been known by different names, at different times. One of your warriors
whose spirit started for the Happy Grounds of your people, as lately as
yesterday morning, thought I desarved to be known by the name of Hawkeye,
and this because my sight happened to be quicker than his own, when it got
to be life or death atween us.”

Chingachgook, who was attentively listening to all that passed, heard and
understood this proof of passing weakness in his friend, and on a future
occasion he questioned him more closely concerning the transaction on the
point, where Deerslayer had first taken human life. When he had got the
whole truth, he did not fail to communicate it to the tribe, from which
time the young hunter was universally known among the Delawares by an
appellation so honorably earned. As this, however, was a period posterior
to all the incidents of this tale, we shall continue to call the young
hunter by the name under which he has been first introduced to the reader.
Nor was the Iroquois less struck with the vaunt of the white man. He knew
of the death of his comrade, and had no difficulty in understanding the
allusion, the intercourse between the conqueror and his victim on that
occasion having been seen by several savages on the shore of the lake, who
had been stationed at different points just within the margin of bushes to
watch the drifting canoes, and who had not time to reach the scene of
action, ere the victor had retired. The effect on this rude being of the
forest was an exclamation of surprise; then such a smile of courtesy, and
wave of the hand, succeeded, as would have done credit to Asiatic
diplomacy. The two Iroquois spoke to each other in low tones, and both
drew near the end of the raft that was closest to the platform.

“My brother, Hawkeye, has sent a message to the Hurons,” resumed Rivenoak,
“and it has made their hearts very glad. They hear he has images of beasts
with two tails! Will he show them to his friends?”

“Inimies would be truer,” returned Deerslayer, “but sound isn’t sense, and
does little harm. Here is one of the images; I toss it to you under faith
of treaties. If it’s not returned, the rifle will settle the p’int atween
us.”

The Iroquois seemed to acquiesce in the conditions, and Deerslayer arose
and prepared to toss one of the elephants to the raft, both parties using
all the precaution that was necessary to prevent its loss. As practice
renders men expert in such things, the little piece of ivory was soon
successfully transferred from one hand to the other, and then followed
another scene on the raft, in which astonishment and delight got the
mastery of Indian stoicism. These two grim old warriors manifested even
more feeling, as they examined the curiously wrought chessman, than had
been betrayed by the boy; for, in the case of the latter, recent schooling
had interposed its influence; while the men, like all who are sustained by
well established characters, were not ashamed to let some of their
emotions be discovered. For a few minutes they apparently lost the
consciousness of their situation, in the intense scrutiny they bestowed on
a material so fine, work so highly wrought, and an animal so
extraordinary. The lip of the moose is, perhaps, the nearest approach to
the trunk of the elephant that is to be found in the American forest, but
this resemblance was far from being sufficiently striking to bring the new
creature within the range of their habits and ideas, and the more they
studied the image, the greater was their astonishment. Nor did these
children of the forest mistake the structure on the back of the elephant
for a part of the animal. They were familiar with horses and oxen, and had
seen towers in the Canadas, and found nothing surprising in creatures of
burthen. Still, by a very natural association, they supposed the carving
meant to represent that the animal they saw was of a strength sufficient
to carry a fort on its back; a circumstance that in no degree lessened
their wonder.

“Has my pale-face brother any more such beasts?” at last the senior of the
Iroquois asked, in a sort of petitioning manner.

“There’s more where them came from, Mingo,” was the answer; “one is
enough, howsever, to buy off fifty scalps.”

“One of my prisoners is a great warrior—tall as a pine—strong
as the moose—active as a deer—fierce as the panther! Some day
he’ll be a great chief, and lead the army of King George!”

“Tut-tut Mingo; Hurry Harry is Hurry Harry, and you’ll never make more
than a corporal of him, if you do that. He’s tall enough, of a sartainty;
but that’s of no use, as he only hits his head ag’in the branches as he
goes through the forest. He’s strong too, but a strong body isn’t a strong
head, and the king’s generals are not chosen for their sinews; he’s swift,
if you will, but a rifle bullet is swifter; and as for f’erceness, it’s no
great ricommend to a soldier; they that think they feel the stoutest often
givin’ out at the pinch. No, no, you’ll niver make Hurry’s scalp pass for
more than a good head of curly hair, and a rattle pate beneath it!”

“My old prisoner very wise—king of the lake—great warrior,
wise counsellor!”

“Well, there’s them that might gainsay all this, too, Mingo. A very wise
man wouldn’t be apt to be taken in so foolish a manner as befell Master
Hutter, and if he gives good counsel, he must have listened to very bad in
that affair. There’s only one king of this lake, and he’s a long way off,
and isn’t likely ever to see it. Floating Tom is some such king of this
region, as the wolf that prowls through the woods is king of the forest. A
beast with two tails is well worth two such scalps!”

“But my brother has another beast?—He will give two”—holding
up as many fingers, “for old father?”

“Floating Tom is no father of mine, but he’ll fare none the worse for
that. As for giving two beasts for his scalp, and each beast with two
tails, it is quite beyond reason. Think yourself well off, Mingo, if you
make a much worse trade.”

By this time the self-command of Rivenoak had got the better of his
wonder, and he began to fall back on his usual habits of cunning, in order
to drive the best bargain he could. It would be useless to relate more
than the substance of the desultory dialogue that followed, in which the
Indian manifested no little management, in endeavoring to recover the
ground lost under the influence of surprise. He even affected to doubt
whether any original for the image of the beast existed, and asserted that
the oldest Indian had never heard a tradition of any such animal. Little
did either of them imagine at the time that long ere a century elapsed,
the progress of civilization would bring even much more extraordinary and
rare animals into that region, as curiosities to be gazed at by the
curious, and that the particular beast, about which the disputants
contended, would be seen laving its sides and swimming in the very sheet
of water, on which they had met.

[The Otsego is a favorite place for the caravan keepers to let their
elephants bathe. The writer has seen two at a time, since the publication
of this book, swimming about in company.]

As is not uncommon on such occasions, one of the parties got a little warm
in the course of the discussion, for Deerslayer met all the arguments and
prevarication of his subtle opponent with his own cool directness of
manner, and unmoved love of truth. What an elephant was he knew little
better than the savage, but he perfectly understood that the carved pieces
of ivory must have some such value in the eyes of an Iroquois as a bag of
gold or a package of beaver skins would in those of a trader. Under the
circumstances, therefore, he felt it to be prudent not to concede too much
at first, since there existed a nearly unconquerable obstacle to making
the transfers, even after the contracting parties had actually agreed upon
the terms. Keeping this difficulty in view, he held the extra chessmen in
reserve, as a means of smoothing any difficulty in the moment of need.

At length the savage pretended that further negotiation was useless, since
he could not be so unjust to his tribe as to part with the honor and
emoluments of two excellent, full grown male scalps for a consideration so
trifling as a toy like that he had seen, and he prepared to take his
departure. Both parties now felt as men are wont to feel, when a bargain
that each is anxious to conclude is on the eve of being broken off, in
consequence of too much pertinacity in the way of management. The effect
of the disappointment was very different, however, on the respective
individuals. Deerslayer was mortified, and filled with regret, for he not
only felt for the prisoners, but he also felt deeply for the two girls.
The conclusion of the treaty, therefore, left him melancholy and full of
regret. With the savage, his defeat produced the desire of revenge. In a
moment of excitement, he had loudly announced his intention to say no
more, and he felt equally enraged with himself and with his cool opponent,
that he had permitted a pale face to manifest more indifference and
self-command than an Indian chief. When he began to urge his raft away
from the platform his countenance lowered and his eye glowed, even while
he affected a smile of amity and a gesture of courtesy at parting.

It took some little time to overcome the inertia of the logs, and while
this was being done by the silent Indian, Rivenoak stalked over the
hemlock boughs that lay between the logs in sullen ferocity, eyeing keenly
the while the hut, the platform and the person of his late disputant. Once
he spoke in low, quick tones to his companion, and he stirred the boughs
with his feet like an animal that is restive. At that moment the
watchfulness of Deerslayer had a little abated, for he sat musing on the
means of renewing the negotiation without giving too much advantage to the
other side. It was perhaps fortunate for him that the keen and bright eyes
of Judith were as vigilant as ever. At the instant when the young man was
least on his guard, and his enemy was the most on the alert, she called
out in a warning voice to the former, most opportunely giving the alarm.

“Be on your guard, Deerslayer,” the girl cried—“I see rifles with
the glass, beneath the hemlock brush, and the Iroquois is loosening them
with his feet!”

It would seem that the enemy had carried their artifices so far as to
employ an agent who understood English. The previous dialogue had taken
place in his own language, but it was evident by the sudden manner in
which his feet ceased their treacherous occupation, and in which the
countenance of Rivenoak changed from sullen ferocity to a smile of
courtesy, that the call of the girl was understood. Signing to his
companion to cease his efforts to set the logs in motion, he advanced to
the end of the raft which was nearest to the platform, and spoke.

“Why should Rivenoak and his brother leave any cloud between them,” he
said. “They are both wise, both brave, and both generous; they ought to
part friends. One beast shall be the price of one prisoner.”

“And, Mingo,” answered the other, delighted to renew the negotiations on
almost any terms, and determined to clinch the bargain if possible by a
little extra liberality, “you’ll see that a pale-face knows how to pay a
full price, when he trades with an open heart, and an open hand. Keep the
beast that you had forgotten to give back to me, as you was about to
start, and which I forgot to ask for, on account of consarn at parting in
anger. Show it to your chiefs. When you bring us our fri’nds, two more
shall be added to it, and,” hesitating a moment in distrust of the
expediency of so great a concession; then, deciding in its favor—“and,
if we see them afore the sun sets, we may find a fourth to make up an even
number.”

This settled the matter. Every gleam of discontent vanished from the dark
countenance of the Iroquois, and he smiled as graciously, if not as
sweetly, as Judith Hutter, herself. The piece already in his possession
was again examined, and an ejaculation of pleasure showed how much he was
pleased with this unexpected termination of the affair. In point of fact,
both he and Deerslayer had momentarily forgotten what had become of the
subject of their discussion, in the warmth of their feelings, but such had
not been the case with Rivenoak’s companion. This man retained the piece,
and had fully made up his mind, were it claimed under such circumstances
as to render its return necessary, to drop it in the lake, trusting to his
being able to find it again at some future day. This desperate expedient,
however, was no longer necessary, and after repeating the terms of
agreement, and professing to understand them, the two Indians finally took
their departure, moving slowly towards the shore.

“Can any faith be put in such wretches?” asked Judith, when she and Hetty
had come out on the platform, and were standing at the side of Deerslayer,
watching the dull movement of the logs. “Will they not rather keep the toy
they have, and send us off some bloody proofs of their getting the better
of us in cunning, by way of boasting? I’ve heard of acts as bad as this.”

“No doubt, Judith; no manner of doubt, if it wasn’t for Indian natur’. But
I’m no judge of a red-skin, if that two tail’d beast doesn’t set the whole
tribe in some such stir as a stick raises in a beehive! Now, there’s the
Sarpent; a man with narves like flint, and no more cur’osity in every day
consarns than is befitting prudence; why he was so overcome with the sight
of the creatur’, carved as it is in bone, that I felt ashamed for him!
That’s just their gifts, howsever, and one can’t well quarrel with a man
for his gifts, when they are lawful. Chingachgook will soon get over his
weakness and remember that he’s a chief, and that he comes of a great
stock, and has a renowned name to support and uphold; but as for yonder
scamps, there’ll be no peace among ’em until they think they’ve got
possession of every thing of the natur’ of that bit of carved bone that’s
to be found among Thomas Hutter’s stores!”

“They only know of the elephants, and can have no hopes about the other
things.”

“That’s true, Judith; still, covetousness is a craving feelin’! They’ll
say, if the pale-faces have these cur’ous beasts with two tails, who knows
but they’ve got some with three, or for that matter with four! That’s what
the schoolmasters call nat’ral arithmetic, and ’twill be sartain to beset
the feelin’s of savages. They’ll never be easy, till the truth is known.”

“Do you think, Deerslayer,” inquired Hetty, in her simple and innocent
manner, “that the Iroquois won’t let father and Hurry go? I read to them
several of the very best verses in the whole Bible, and you see what they
have done, already.”

The hunter, as he always did, listened kindly and even affectionately to
Hetty’s remarks; then he mused a moment in silence. There was something
like a flush on his cheek as he answered, after quite a minute had passed.

“I don’t know whether a white man ought to be ashamed, or not, to own he
can’t read, but such is my case, Judith. You are skilful, I find, in all
such matters, while I have only studied the hand of God as it is seen in
the hills and the valleys, the mountain-tops, the streams, the forests and
the springs. Much l’arning may be got in this way, as well as out of
books; and, yet, I sometimes think it is a white man’s gift to read! When
I hear from the mouths of the Moravians the words of which Hetty speaks,
they raise a longing in my mind, and I then think I will know how to read
’em myself; but the game in summer, and the traditions, and lessons in
war, and other matters, have always kept me behind hand.”

“Shall I teach you, Deerslayer?” asked Hetty, earnestly. “I’m weak-minded,
they say, but I can read as well as Judith. It might save your life to
know how to read the Bible to the savages, and it will certainly save your
soul; for mother told me that, again and again!”

“Thankee, Hetty—yes, thankee, with all my heart. These are like to
be too stirring times for much idleness, but after it’s peace, and I come
to see you ag’in on this lake, then I’ll give myself up to it, as if ’twas
pleasure and profit in a single business. Perhaps I ought to be ashamed,
Judith, that ’tis so; but truth is truth. As for these Iroquois, ’tisn’t
very likely they’ll forget a beast with two tails, on account of a varse
or two from the Bible. I rather expect they’ll give up the prisoners, and
trust to some sarcumvenion or other to get ’em back ag’in, with us and all
in the castle and the Ark in the bargain. Howsever, we must humour the
vagabonds, first to get your father and Hurry out of their hands, and next
to keep the peace atween us, until such time as the Sarpent there can make
out to get off his betrothed wife. If there’s any sudden outbreakin’ of
anger and ferocity, the Indians will send off all their women and children
to the camp at once, whereas, by keeping ’em calm and trustful we may
manage to meet Hist at the spot she has mentioned. Rather than have the
bargain fall through, now, I’d throw in half a dozen of them effigy
bow-and-arrow men, such as we’ve in plenty in the chist.”

Judith cheerfully assented, for she would have resigned even the flowered
brocade, rather than not redeem her father and please Deerslayer. The
prospects of success were now so encouraging as to raise the spirits of
all in the castle, though a due watchfulness of the movements of the enemy
was maintained. Hour passed after hour, notwithstanding, and the sun had
once more begun to fall towards the summits of the western hills, and yet
no signs were seen of the return of the raft. By dint of sweeping the
shore with the glass, Deerslayer at length discovered a place in the dense
and dark woods where, he entertained no doubt, the Iroquois were assembled
in considerable numbers. It was near the thicket whence the raft had
issued, and a little rill that trickled into the lake announced the
vicinity of a spring. Here, then, the savages were probably holding their
consultation, and the decision was to be made that went to settle the
question of life or death for the prisoners. There was one ground for hope
in spite of the delay, however, that Deerslayer did not fail to place
before his anxious companions. It was far more probable that the Indians
had left their prisoners in the camp, than that they had encumbered
themselves by causing them to follow through the woods a party that was
out on a merely temporary excursion. If such was the fact, it required
considerable time to send a messenger the necessary distance, and to bring
the two white men to the spot where they were to embark. Encouraged by
these reflections, a new stock of patience was gathered, and the
declension of the sun was viewed with less alarm.

The result justified Deerslayer’s conjecture. Not long before the sun had
finally disappeared, the two logs were seen coming out of the thicket,
again, and as it drew near, Judith announced that her father and Hurry,
both of them pinioned, lay on the bushes in the centre. As before, the two
Indians were rowing. The latter seemed to be conscious that the lateness
of the hour demanded unusual exertions, and contrary to the habits of
their people, who are ever averse to toil, they labored hard at the rude
substitutes for oars. In consequence of this diligence, the raft occupied
its old station in about half the time that had been taken in the previous
visits.

Even after the conditions were so well understood, and matters had
proceeded so far, the actual transfer of the prisoners was not a duty to
be executed without difficulty. The Iroquois were compelled to place great
reliance on the good faith of their foes, though it was reluctantly given;
and was yielded to necessity rather than to confidence. As soon as Hutter
and Hurry should be released, the party in the castle numbered two to one,
as opposed to those on the raft, and escape by flight was out of the
question, as the former had three bark canoes, to say nothing of the
defences of the house and the Ark. All this was understood by both
parties, and it is probable the arrangement never could have been
completed, had not the honest countenance and manner of Deerslayer wrought
their usual effect on Rivenoak.

“My brother knows I put faith in him,” said the latter, as he advanced
with Hutter, whose legs had been released to enable the old man to ascend
to the platform. “One scalp—one more beast.”

“Stop, Mingo,” interrupted the hunter, “keep your prisoner a moment. I
have to go and seek the means of payment.”

This excuse, however, though true in part, was principally a fetch.
Deerslayer left the platform, and entering the house, he directed Judith
to collect all the arms and to conceal them in her own room. He then spoke
earnestly to the Delaware, who stood on guard as before, near the entrance
of the building, put the three remaining castles in his pocket, and
returned.

“You are welcome back to your old abode, Master Hutter,” said Deerslayer,
as he helped the other up on the platform, slyly passing into the hand of
Rivenoak, at the same time, another of the castles. “You’ll find your
darters right glad to see you, and here’s Hetty come herself to say as
much in her own behalf.”

Here the hunter stopped speaking and broke out into a hearty fit of his
silent and peculiar laughter. Hurry’s legs were just released, and he had
been placed on his feet. So tightly had the ligatures been drawn, that the
use of his limbs was not immediately recovered, and the young giant
presented, in good sooth, a very helpless and a somewhat ludicrous
picture. It was this unusual spectacle, particularly the bewildered
countenance, that excited the merriment of Deerslayer.

“You look like a girdled pine in a clearin’, Hurry Harry, that is rocking
in a gale,” said Deerslayer, checking his unseasonable mirth, more from
delicacy to the others than from any respect to the liberated captive.
“I’m glad, howsever, to see that you haven’t had your hair dressed by any
of the Iroquois barbers, in your late visit to their camp.”

“Harkee, Deerslayer,” returned the other a little fiercely, “it will be
prudent for you to deal less in mirth and more in friendship on this
occasion. Act like a Christian, for once, and not like a laughing gal in a
country school when the master’s back is turned, and just tell me whether
there’s any feet, or not, at the end of these legs of mine. I think I can
see them, but as for feelin’ they might as well be down on the banks of
the Mohawk, as be where they seem to be.”

“You’ve come off whole, Hurry, and that’s not a little,” answered the
other, secretly passing to the Indian the remainder of the stipulated
ransom, and making an earnest sign at the same moment for him to commence
his retreat. “You’ve come off whole, feet and all, and are only a little
numb from a tight fit of the withes. Natur’ll soon set the blood in
motion, and then you may begin to dance, to celebrate what I call a most
wonderful and onexpected deliverance from a den of wolves.”

Deerslayer released the arms of his friends, as each landed, and the two
were now stamping and limping about on the platform, growling and uttering
denunciations as they endeavored to help the returning circulation. They
had been tethered too long, however, to regain the use of their limbs in a
moment, and the Indians being quite as diligent on their return as on
their advance, the raft was fully a hundred yards from the castle when
Hurry, turning accidentally in that direction, discovered how fast it was
getting beyond the reach of his vengeance. By this time he could move with
tolerable facility, though still numb and awkward. Without considering his
own situation, however, he seized the rifle that leaned against the
shoulder of Deerslayer, and attempted to cock and present it. The young
hunter was too quick for him. Seizing the piece he wrenched it from the
hands of the giant, not, however, until it had gone off in the struggle,
when pointed directly upward. It is probable that Deerslayer could have
prevailed in such a contest, on account of the condition of Hurry’s limbs,
but the instant the gun went off, the latter yielded, and stumped towards
the house, raising his legs at each step quite a foot from the ground,
from an uncertainty of the actual position of his feet. But he had been
anticipated by Judith. The whole stock of Hutter’s arms, which had been
left in the building as a resource in the event of a sudden outbreaking of
hostilities, had been removed, and were already secreted, agreeably to
Deerslayer’s directions. In consequence of this precaution, no means
offered by which March could put his designs in execution.

Disappointed in his vengeance, Hurry seated himself, and like Hutter, for
half an hour, he was too much occupied in endeavoring to restore the
circulation, and in regaining the use of his limbs, to indulge in any
other reflections. By the end of this time the raft had disappeared, and
night was beginning to throw her shadows once more over the whole sylvan
scene. Before darkness had completely set in, and while the girls were
preparing the evening meal, Deerslayer related to Hutter an outline of
events that had taken place, and gave him a history of the means he had
adopted for the security of his children and property.


Chapter XV.

The calm of evening was again in singular contrast, while its gathering
gloom was in as singular unison with the passions of men. The sun was set,
and the rays of the retiring luminary had ceased to gild the edges of the
few clouds that had sufficient openings to admit the passage of its fading
light. The canopy overhead was heavy and dense, promising another night of
darkness, but the surface of the lake was scarcely disturbed by a ripple.
There was a little air, though it scarce deserved to be termed wind.
Still, being damp and heavy, it had a certain force. The party in the
castle were as gloomy and silent as the scene. The two ransomed prisoners
felt humbled and discoloured, but their humility partook of the rancour of
revenge. They were far more disposed to remember the indignity with which
they had been treated during the last few hours of their captivity, than
to feel grateful for the previous indulgence. Then that keen-sighted
monitor, conscience, by reminding them of the retributive justice of all
they had endured, goaded them rather to turn the tables on their enemies
than to accuse themselves. As for the others, they were thoughtful equally
from regret and joy. Deerslayer and Judith felt most of the former
sensation, though from very different causes, while Hetty for the moment
was perfectly happy. The Delaware had also lively pictures of felicity in
the prospect of so soon regaining his betrothed. Under such circumstances,
and in this mood, all were taking the evening meal.

“Old Tom!” cried Hurry, bursting into a fit of boisterous laughter, “you
look’d amazin’ly like a tethered bear, as you was stretched on them
hemlock boughs, and I only wonder you didn’t growl more. Well, it’s over,
and syth’s and lamentations won’t mend the matter! There’s the blackguard
Rivenoak, he that brought us off has an oncommon scalp, and I’d give as
much for it myself as the Colony. Yes, I feel as rich as the governor in
these matters now, and will lay down with them doubloon for doubloon.
Judith, darling, did you mourn for me much, when I was in the hands of the
Philipsteins?”

The last were a family of German descent on the Mohawk, to whom Hurry had
a great antipathy, and whom he had confounded with the enemies of Judea.

“Our tears have raised the lake, Hurry March, as you might have seen by
the shore!” returned Judith, with a feigned levity that she was far from
feeling. “That Hetty and I should have grieved for father was to be
expected; but we fairly rained tears for you.”

“We were sorry for poor Hurry, as well as for father, Judith!” put in her
innocent and unconscious sister.

“True, girl, true; but we feel sorrow for everybody that’s in trouble, you
know,” returned the other in a quick, admonitory manner and a low tone.
“Nevertheless, we are glad to see you, Master March, and out of the hands
of the Philipsteins, too.”

“Yes, they’re a bad set, and so is the other brood of ’em, down on the
river. It’s a wonderment to me how you got us off, Deerslayer; and I
forgive you the interference that prevented my doin’ justice on that
vagabond, for this small service. Let us into the secret, that we may do
you the same good turn, at need. Was it by lying, or by coaxing?”

“By neither, Hurry, but by buying. We paid a ransom for you both, and
that, too, at a price so high you had well be on your guard ag’in another
captyvement, lest our stock of goods shouldn’t hold out.”

“A ransom! Old Tom has paid the fiddler, then, for nothing of mine would
have bought off the hair, much less the skin. I didn’t think men as keen
set as them vagabonds would let a fellow up so easy, when they had him
fairly at a close hug, and floored. But money is money, and somehow it’s
unnat’ral hard to withstand. Indian or white man, ’tis pretty much the
same. It must be owned, Judith, there’s a considerable of human natur’ in
mankind ginirally, arter all!”

Hutter now rose, and signing to Deerslayer, he led him to an inner room,
where, in answer to his questions, he first learned the price that had
been paid for his release. The old man expressed neither resentment nor
surprise at the inroad that had been made on his chest, though he did
manifest some curiosity to know how far the investigation of its contents
had been carried. He also inquired where the key had been found. The
habitual frankness of Deerslayer prevented any prevarication, and the
conference soon terminated by the return of the two to the outer room, or
that which served for the double purpose of parlour and kitchen.

“I wonder if it’s peace or war, between us and the savages!” exclaimed
Hurry, just as Deerslayer, who had paused for a single instant, listened
attentively, and was passing through the outer door without stopping.
“This givin’ up captives has a friendly look, and when men have traded
together on a fair and honourable footing they ought to part fri’nds, for
that occasion at least. Come back, Deerslayer, and let us have your
judgment, for I’m beginnin’ to think more of you, since your late
behaviour, than I used to do.”

“There’s an answer to your question, Hurry, since you’re in such haste to
come ag’in to blows.”

As Deerslayer spoke, he threw on the table on which the other was
reclining with one elbow a sort of miniature fagot, composed of a dozen
sticks bound tightly together with a deer-skin thong. March seized it
eagerly, and holding it close to a blazing knot of pine that lay on the
hearth, and which gave out all the light there was in the room,
ascertained that the ends of the several sticks had been dipped in blood.

“If this isn’t plain English,” said the reckless frontier man, “it’s plain
Indian! Here’s what they call a dicliration of war, down at York, Judith.
How did you come by this defiance, Deerslayer?”

“Fairly enough. It lay not a minut’ since, in what you call Floatin’ Tom’s
door-yard.”

“How came it there?”

“It never fell from the clouds, Judith, as little toads sometimes do, and
then it don’t rain.”

“You must prove where it come from, Deerslayer, or we shall suspect some
design to skear them that would have lost their wits long ago, if fear
could drive ’em away.”

Deerslayer had approached a window, and cast a glance out of it on the
dark aspect of the lake. As if satisfied with what he beheld, he drew near
Hurry, and took the bundle of sticks into his own hand, examining it
attentively.

“Yes, this is an Indian declaration of war, sure enough,” he said, “and
it’s a proof how little you’re suited to be on the path it has travelled,
Harry March, that it has got here, and you never the wiser as to the
means. The savages may have left the scalp on your head, but they must
have taken off the ears; else you’d have heard the stirring of the water
made by the lad as he come off ag’in on his two logs. His ar’n’d was to
throw these sticks at our door, as much as to say, we’ve struck the
war-post since the trade, and the next thing will be to strike you.”

“The prowling wolves! But hand me that rifle, Judith, and I’ll send an
answer back to the vagabonds through their messenger.”

“Not while I stand by, Master March,” coolly put in Deerslayer, motioning
for the other to forbear. “Faith is faith, whether given to a red-skin, or
to a Christian. The lad lighted a knot, and came off fairly under its
blaze to give us this warning; and no man here should harm him, while
empl’yed on such an ar’n’d. There’s no use in words, for the boy is too
cunning to leave the knot burning, now his business is done, and the night
is already too dark for a rifle to have any sartainty.”

“That may be true enough, as to a gun, but there’s virtue still in a
canoe,” answered Hurry, passing towards the door with enormous strides,
carrying a rifle in his hands. “The being doesn’t live that shall stop me
from following and bringing back that riptyle’s scalp. The more on ’em
that you crush in the egg, the fewer there’ll be to dart at you in the
woods!”

Judith trembled like the aspen, she scarce knew why herself, though there
was the prospect of a scene of violence; for if Hurry was fierce and
overbearing in the consciousness of his vast strength, Deerslayer had
about him the calm determination that promises greater perseverance, and a
resolution more likely to effect its object. It was the stern, resolute
eye of the latter, rather than the noisy vehemence of the first, that
excited her apprehensions. Hurry soon reached the spot where the canoe was
fastened, but not before Deerslayer had spoken in a quick, earnest voice
to the Serpent, in Delaware. The latter had been the first, in truth, to
hear the sounds of the oars, and he had gone upon the platform in jealous
watchfulness. The light satisfied him that a message was coming, and when
the boy cast his bundle of sticks at his feet, it neither moved his anger
nor induced surprise. He merely stood at watch, rifle in hand, to make
certain that no treachery lay behind the defiance. As Deerslayer now
called to him, he stepped into the canoe, and quick as thought removed the
paddles. Hurry was furious when he found that he was deprived of the means
of proceeding. He first approached the Indian with loud menaces, and even
Deerslayer stood aghast at the probable consequences. March shook his
sledge-hammer fists and flourished his arms as he drew near the Indian,
and all expected he would attempt to fell the Delaware to the earth; one
of them, at least, was well aware that such an experiment would be
followed by immediate bloodshed. But even Hurry was awed by the stern
composure of the chief, and he, too, knew that such a man was not to be
outraged with impunity; he therefore turned to vent his rage on
Deerslayer, where he foresaw no consequences so terrible. What might have
been the result of this second demonstration if completed, is unknown,
since it was never made.

“Hurry,” said a gentle, soothing voice at his elbow, “it’s wicked to be so
angry, and God will not overlook it. The Iroquois treated you well, and
they didn’t take your scalp, though you and father wanted to take theirs.”

The influence of mildness on passion is well known. Hetty, too, had earned
a sort of consideration, that had never before been enjoyed by her,
through the self-devotion and decision of her recent conduct. Perhaps her
established mental imbecility, by removing all distrust of a wish to
control, aided her influence. Let the cause be as questionable as it
might, the effect we sufficiently certain. Instead of throttling his old
fellow-traveler, Hurry turned to the girl and poured out a portion of his
discontent, if none of his anger, in her attentive ears.

“Tis too bad, Hetty!” he exclaimed; “as bad as a county gaol or a lack of
beaver, to get a creatur’ into your very trap, then to see it get off. As
much as six first quality skins, in valie, has paddled off on them clumsy
logs, when twenty strokes of a well-turned paddle would overtake ’em. I
say in valie, for as to the boy in the way of natur’, he is only a boy,
and is worth neither more nor less than one. Deerslayer, you’ve been
ontrue to your fri’nds in letting such a chance slip through my fingers
well as your own.”

The answer was given quietly, but with a voice as steady as a fearless
nature and the consciousness of rectitude could make it. “I should have
been untrue to the right, had I done otherwise,” returned the Deerslayer,
steadily; “and neither you, nor any other man has authority to demand that
much of me. The lad came on a lawful business, and the meanest red-skin
that roams the woods would be ashamed of not respecting his ar’n’d. But
he’s now far beyond your reach, Master March, and there’s little use in
talking, like a couple of women, of what can no longer be helped.”

So saying, Deerslayer turned away, like one resolved to waste no more
words on the subject, while Hutter pulled Harry by the sleeve, and led him
into the ark. There they sat long in private conference. In the mean time,
the Indian and his friend had their secret consultation; for, though it
wanted some three or four hours to the rising of the star, the former
could not abstain from canvassing his scheme, and from opening his heart
to the other. Judith, too, yielded to her softer feelings, and listened to
the whole of Hetty’s artless narrative of what occurred after she landed.
The woods had few terrors for either of these girls, educated as they had
been, and accustomed as they were to look out daily at their rich expanse
or to wander beneath their dark shades; but the elder sister felt that she
would have hesitated about thus venturing alone into an Iroquois camp.
Concerning Hist, Hetty was not very communicative. She spoke of her
kindness and gentleness and of the meeting in the forest; but the secret
of Chingachgook was guarded with a shrewdness and fidelity that many a
sharper-witted girl might have failed to display.

At length the several conferences were broken up by the reappearance of
Hutter on the platform. Here he assembled the whole party, and
communicated as much of his intentions as he deemed expedient. Of the
arrangement made by Deerslayer, to abandon the castle during the night and
to take refuge in the ark, he entirely approved. It struck him as it had
the others, as the only effectual means of escaping destruction. Now that
the savages had turned their attention to the construction of rafts, no
doubt could exist of their at least making an attempt to carry the
building, and the message of the bloody sticks sufficiently showed their
confidence in their own success. In short, the old man viewed the night as
critical, and he called on all to get ready as soon as possible, in order
to abandon the dwellings temporarily at least, if not forever.

These communications made, everything proceeded promptly and with
intelligence; the castle was secured in the manner already described, the
canoes were withdrawn from the dock and fastened to the ark by the side of
the other; the few necessaries that had been left in the house were
transferred to the cabin, the fire was extinguished and all embarked.

The vicinity of the hills, with their drapery of pines, had the effect to
render nights that were obscure darker than common on the lake. As usual,
however, a belt of comparative light was etched through the centre of the
sheet, while it was within the shadows of the mountains that the gloom
rested most heavily on the water. The island, or castle, stood in this
belt of comparative light, but still the night was so dark as to cover the
aperture of the ark. At the distance of an observer on the shore her
movements could not be seen at all, more particularly as a background of
dark hillside filled up the perspective of every view that was taken
diagonally or directly across the water. The prevailing wind on the lakes
of that region is west, but owing to the avenues formed by the mountains
it is frequently impossible to tell the true direction of the currents, as
they often vary within short distances and brief differences of time. This
is truer in light fluctuating puffs of air than in steady breezes; though
the squalls of even the latter are familiarly known to be uncertain and
baffling in all mountainous regions and narrow waters. On the present
occasion, Hutter himself (as he shoved the ark from her berth at the side
of the platform) was at a loss to pronounce which way the wind blew. In
common, this difficulty was solved by the clouds, which, floating high
above the hill tops, as a matter of course obeyed the currents; but now
the whole vault of heaven seemed a mass of gloomy wall. Not an opening of
any sort was visible, and Chingachgook was already trembling lest the
non-appearance of the star might prevent his betrothed from being punctual
to her appointment. Under these circumstances, Hutter hoisted his sail,
seemingly with the sole intention of getting away from the castle, as it
might be dangerous to remain much longer in its vicinity. The air soon
filled the cloth, and when the scow was got under command, and the sail
was properly trimmed, it was found that the direction was southerly,
inclining towards the eastern shore. No better course offering for the
purposes of the party, the singular craft was suffered to skim the surface
of the water in this direction for more than hour, when a change in the
currents of the air drove them over towards the camp.

Deerslayer watched all the movements of Hutter and Harry with jealous
attention. At first, he did not know whether to ascribe the course they
held to accident or to design; but he now began to suspect the latter.
Familiar as Hutter was with the lake, it was easy to deceive one who had
little practice on the water; and let his intentions be what they might,
it was evident, ere two hours had elapsed, that the ark had got sufficient
space to be within a hundred rods of the shore, directly abreast of the
known position of the camp. For a considerable time previously to reaching
this point, Hurry, who had some knowledge of the Algonquin language, had
been in close conference with the Indian, and the result was now announced
by the latter to Deerslayer, who had been a cold, not to say distrusted,
looker-on of all that passed.

“My old father, and my young brother, the Big Pine,”—for so the
Delaware had named March—“want to see Huron scalps at their belts,”
said Chingachgook to his friend. “There is room for some on the girdle of
the Sarpent, and his people will look for them when he goes back to his
village. Their eyes must not be left long in a fog, but they must see what
they look for. I know that my brother has a white hand; he will not strike
even the dead. He will wait for us; when we come back, he will not hide
his face from shame for his friend. The great Serpent of the Mohicans must
be worthy to go on the war-path with Hawkeye.”

“Ay, ay, Sarpent, I see how it is; that name’s to stick, and in time I
shall get to be known by it instead of Deerslayer; well, if such honours
will come, the humblest of us all must be willing to abide by ’em. As for
your looking for scalps, it belongs to your gifts, and I see no harm in
it. Be marciful, Sarpent, howsever; be marciful, I beseech of you. It
surely can do no harm to a red-skin’s honour to show a little marcy. As
for the old man, the father of two young women, who might ripen better
feelin’s in his heart, and Harry March, here, who, pine as he is, might
better bear the fruit of a more Christianized tree, as for them two, I
leave them in the hands of the white man’s God. Wasn’t it for the bloody
sticks, no man should go ag’in the Mingos this night, seein’ that it would
dishonor our faith and characters; but them that crave blood can’t
complain if blood is shed at their call. Still, Sarpent, you can be
marciful. Don’t begin your career with the wails of women and the cries of
children. Bear yourself so that Hist will smile, and not weep, when she
meets you. Go, then; and the Manitou presarve you!”

“My brother will stay here with the scow. Wah will soon be standing on the
shore waiting, and Chingachgook must hasten.”

The Indian then joined his two co-adventurers, and first lowering the
sail, they all three entered the canoe, and left the side of the ark.
Neither Hutter nor March spoke to Deerslayer concerning their object, or
the probable length of their absence. All this had been confided to the
Indian, who had acquitted himself of the trust with characteristic
brevity. As soon as the canoe was out of sight, and that occurred ere the
paddles had given a dozen strokes, Deerslayer made the best dispositions
he could to keep the ark as nearly stationary as possible; and then he sat
down in the end of the scow, to chew the cud of his own bitter
reflections. It was not long, however, before he was joined by Judith, who
sought every occasion to be near him, managing her attack on his
affections with the address that was suggested by native coquetry, aided
by no little practice, but which received much of its most dangerous power
from the touch of feeling that threw around her manner, voice, accents,
thoughts, and acts, the indescribable witchery of natural tenderness.
Leaving the young hunter exposed to these dangerous assailants, it has
become our more immediate business to follow the party in the canoe to the
shore.

The controlling influence that led Hutter and Hurry to repeat their
experiment against the camp was precisely that which had induced the first
attempt, a little heightened, perhaps, by the desire of revenge. But
neither of these two rude beings, so ruthless in all things that touched
the rights and interests of the red man, thought possessing veins of human
feeling on other matters, was much actuated by any other desire than a
heartless longing for profit. Hurry had felt angered at his sufferings,
when first liberated, it is true, but that emotion soon disappeared in the
habitual love of gold, which he sought with the reckless avidity of a
needy spendthrift, rather than with the ceaseless longings of a miser. In
short, the motive that urged them both so soon to go against the Hurons,
was an habitual contempt of their enemy, acting on the unceasing cupidity
of prodigality. The additional chances of success, however, had their
place in the formation of the second enterprise. It was known that a large
portion of the warriors—perhaps all—were encamped for the
night abreast of the castle, and it was hoped that the scalps of helpless
victims would be the consequence. To confess the truth, Hutter in
particular—he who had just left two daughters behind him—expected
to find few besides women and children in the camp. The fact had been but
slightly alluded to in his communications with Hurry, and with
Chingachgook it had been kept entirely out of view. If the Indian thought
of it at all, it was known only to himself.

Hutter steered the canoe; Hurry had manfully taken his post in the bows,
and Chingachgook stood in the centre. We say stood, for all three were so
skilled in the management of that species of frail bark, as to be able to
keep erect positions in the midst of the darkness. The approach to the
shore was made with great caution, and the landing effected in safety. The
three now prepared their arms, and began their tiger-like approach upon
the camp. The Indian was on the lead, his two companions treading in his
footsteps with a stealthy cautiousness of manner that rendered their
progress almost literally noiseless. Occasionally a dried twig snapped
under the heavy weight of the gigantic Hurry, or the blundering clumsiness
of the old man; but, had the Indian walked on air, his step could not have
seemed lighter. The great object was first to discover the position of the
fire, which was known to be the centre of the whole encampment. At length
the keen eye of Chingachgook caught a glimpse of this important guide. It
was glimmering at a distance among the trunks of trees. There was no
blaze, but merely a single smouldering brand, as suited the hour; the
savages usually retiring and rising with the revolutions of the sun.

As soon as a view was obtained of this beacon, the progress of the
adventurers became swifter and more certain. In a few minutes they got to
the edge of the circle of little huts. Here they stopped to survey their
ground, and to concert their movements. The darkness was so deep as to
render it difficult to distinguish anything but the glowing brand, the
trunks of the nearest trees, and the endless canopy of leaves that veiled
the clouded heaven. It was ascertained, however, that a hut was quite
near, and Chingachgook attempted to reconnnoitre its interior. The manner
in which the Indian approached the place that was supposed to contain
enemies, resembled the wily advances of the cat on the bird. As he drew
near, he stooped to his hands and knees, for the entrance was so low as to
require this attitude, even as a convenience. Before trusting his head
inside, however, he listened long to catch the breathing of sleepers. No
sound was audible, and this human Serpent thrust his head in at the door,
or opening, as another serpent would have peered in on the nest. Nothing
rewarded the hazardous experiment; for, after feeling cautiously with a
hand, the place was found to be empty.

The Delaware proceeded in the same guarded manner to one or two more of
the huts, finding all in the same situation. He then returned to his
companions, and informed them that the Hurons had deserted their camp. A
little further inquiry corroborated this fact, and it only remained to
return to the canoe. The different manner in which the adventurers bore
the disappointment is worthy of a passing remark. The chief, who had
landed solely with the hope of acquiring renown, stood stationary, leaning
against a tree, waiting the pleasure of his companions. He was mortified,
and a little surprised, it is true; but he bore all with dignity, falling
back for support on the sweeter expectations that still lay in reserve for
that evening. It was true, he could not now hope to meet his mistress with
the proofs of his daring and skill on his person, but he might still hope
to meet her; and the warrior, who was zealous in the search, might always
hope to be honored. On the other hand, Hutter and Hurry, who had been
chiefly instigated by the basest of all human motives, the thirst of gain,
could scarce control their feelings. They went prowling among the huts, as
if they expected to find some forgotten child or careless sleeper; and
again and again did they vent their spite on the insensible huts, several
of which were actually torn to pieces, and scattered about the place. Nay,
they even quarrelled with each other, and fierce reproaches passed between
them. It is possible some serious consequences might have occurred, had
not the Delaware interfered to remind them of the danger of being so
unguarded, and of the necessity of returning to the ark. This checked the
dispute, and in a few minutes they were paddling sullenly back to the spot
where they hoped to find that vessel.

It has been said that Judith took her place at the side of Deerslayer,
soon after the adventurers departed. For a short time the girl was silent,
and the hunter was ignorant which of the sisters had approached him, but
he soon recognized the rich, full-spirited voice of the elder, as her
feelings escaped in words.

“This is a terrible life for women, Deerslayer!” she exclaimed. “Would to
Heaven I could see an end of it!”

“The life is well enough, Judith,” was the answer, “being pretty much as
it is used or abused. What would you wish to see in its place?”

“I should be a thousand times happier to live nearer to civilized beings—where
there are farms and churches, and houses built as it might be by Christian
hands; and where my sleep at night would be sweet and tranquil! A dwelling
near one of the forts would be far better than this dreary place where we
live!”

“Nay, Judith, I can’t agree too lightly in the truth of all this. If forts
are good to keep off inimies, they sometimes hold inimies of their own. I
don’t think ‘twould be for your good, or the good of Hetty, to live near
one; and if I must say what I think, I’m afeard you are a little too near
as it is.” Deerslayer went on, in his own steady, earnest manner, for the
darkness concealed the tints that colored the cheeks of the girl almost to
the brightness of crimson, while her own great efforts suppressed the
sounds of the breathing that nearly choked her. “As for farms, they have
their uses, and there’s them that like to pass their lives on ’em; but
what comfort can a man look for in a clearin’, that he can’t find in
double quantities in the forest? If air, and room, and light, are a little
craved, the windrows and the streams will furnish ’em, or here are the
lakes for such as have bigger longings in that way; but where are you to
find your shades, and laughing springs, and leaping brooks, and vinerable
trees, a thousand years old, in a clearin’? You don’t find them, but you
find their disabled trunks, marking the ‘arth like headstones in a
graveyard. It seems to me that the people who live in such places must be
always thinkin’ of their own inds, and of universal decay; and that, too,
not of the decay that is brought about by time and natur’, but the decay
that follows waste and violence. Then as to churches, they are good, I
suppose, else wouldn’t good men uphold ’em. But they are not altogether
necessary. They call ’em the temples of the Lord; but, Judith, the whole
‘arth is a temple of the Lord to such as have the right mind. Neither
forts nor churches make people happier of themselves. Moreover, all is
contradiction in the settlements, while all is concord in the woods. Forts
and churches almost always go together, and yet they’re downright
contradictions; churches being for peace, and forts for war. No, no—give
me the strong places of the wilderness, which is the trees, and the
churches, too, which are arbors raised by the hand of natur’.”

“Woman is not made for scenes like these, Deerslayer, scenes of which we
shall have no end, as long as this war lasts.”

“If you mean women of white colour, I rather think you’re not far from the
truth, gal; but as for the females of the redmen, such visitations are
quite in character. Nothing would make Hist, now, the bargained wife of
yonder Delaware, happier than to know that he is at this moment prowling
around his nat’ral inimies, striving after a scalp.”

“Surely, surely, Deerslayer, she cannot be a woman, and not feel concern
when she thinks the man she loves is in danger!”

“She doesn’t think of the danger, Judith, but of the honor; and when the
heart is desperately set on such feelin’s, why, there is little room to
crowd in fear. Hist is a kind, gentle, laughing, pleasant creatur’, but
she loves honor, as well as any Delaware gal I ever know’d. She’s to meet
the Sarpent an hour hence, on the p’int where Hetty landed, and no doubt
she has her anxiety about it, like any other woman; but she’d be all the
happier did she know that her lover was at this moment waylaying a Mingo
for his scalp.”

“If you really believe this, Deerslayer, no wonder you lay so much stress
on gifts. Certain am I, that no white girl could feel anything but misery
while she believed her betrothed in danger of his life! Nor do I suppose
even you, unmoved and calm as you ever seem to be, could be at peace if
you believed your Hist in danger.”

“That’s a different matter—’tis altogether a different matter,
Judith. Woman is too weak and gentle to be intended to run such risks, and
man must feel for her. Yes, I rather think that’s as much red natur’ as
it’s white. But I have no Hist, nor am I like to have; for I hold it wrong
to mix colours, any way except in friendship and sarvices.”

“In that you are and feel as a white man should! As for Hurry Harry, I do
think it would be all the same to him whether his wife were a squaw or a
governor’s daughter, provided she was a little comely, and could help to
keep his craving stomach full.”

“You do March injustice, Judith; yes, you do. The poor fellow dotes on
you, and when a man has ra’ally set his heart on such a creatur’ it isn’t
a Mingo, or even a Delaware gal, that’ll be likely to unsettle his mind.
You may laugh at such men as Hurry and I, for we’re rough and unteached in
the ways of books and other knowledge; but we’ve our good p’ints, as well
as our bad ones. An honest heart is not to be despised, gal, even though
it be not varsed in all the niceties that please the female fancy.”

“You, Deerslayer! And do you—can you, for an instant, suppose I
place you by the side of Harry March? No, no, I am not so far gone in
dullness as that. No one—man or woman—could think of naming
your honest heart, manly nature, and simple truth, with the boisterous
selfishness, greedy avarice, and overbearing ferocity of Harry March. The
very best that can be said of him, is to be found in his name of Hurry
Skurry, which, if it means no great harm, means no great good. Even my
father, following his feelings with the other, as he is doing at this
moment, well knows the difference between you. This I know, for he said as
much to me, in plain language.”

Judith was a girl of quick sensibilities and of impetuous feelings; and,
being under few of the restraints that curtail the manifestations of
maiden emotions among those who are educated in the habits of civilized
life, she sometimes betrayed the latter with a feeling that was so purely
natural as to place it as far above the wiles of coquetry as it was
superior to its heartlessness. She had now even taken one of the hard
hands of the hunter and pressed it between both her own, with a warmth and
earnestness that proved how sincere was her language. It was perhaps
fortunate that she was checked by the very excess of her feelings, since
the same power might have urged her on to avow all that her father had
said—the old man not having been satisfied with making a comparison
favorable to Deerslayer, as between the hunter and Hurry, but having
actually, in his blunt rough way, briefly advised his daughter to cast off
the latter entirely, and to think of the former as a husband. Judith would
not willingly have said this to any other man, but there was so much
confidence awakened by the guileless simplicity of Deerslayer, that one of
her nature found it a constant temptation to overstep the bounds of habit.
She went no further, however, immediately relinquishing the hand, and
falling back on a reserve that was more suited to her sex, and, indeed, to
her natural modesty.

“Thankee, Judith, thankee with all my heart,” returned the hunter, whose
humility prevented him from placing any flattering interpretation on
either the conduct or the language of the girl. “Thankee as much as if it
was all true. Harry’s sightly—yes, he’s as sightly as the tallest
pine of the mountains, and the Sarpent has named him accordingly; however,
some fancy good looks, and some fancy good conduct, only. Hurry has one
advantage, and it depends on himself whether he’ll have t’other or—Hark!
That’s your father’s voice, gal, and he speaks like a man who’s riled at
something.”

“God save us from any more of these horrible scenes!” exclaimed Judith,
bending her face to her knees, and endeavoring to exclude the discordant
sounds, by applying her hands to her ears. “I sometimes wish I had no
father!”

This was bitterly said, and the repinings which extorted the words were
bitterly felt. It is impossible to say what might next have escaped her
had not a gentle, low voice spoken at her elbow.

“Judith, I ought to have read a chapter to father and Hurry!” said the
innocent but terrified speaker, “and that would have kept them from going
again on such an errand. Do you call to them, Deerslayer, and tell them I
want them, and that it will be good for them both if they’ll return and
hearken to my words.”

“Ah’s me! Poor Hetty, you little know the cravin’s for gold and revenge,
if you believe they are so easily turned aside from their longin’s! But
this is an uncommon business in more ways than one, Judith. I hear your
father and Hurry growling like bears, and yet no noise comes from the
mouth of the young chief. There’s an ind of secrecy, and yet his whoop,
which ought to ring in the mountains, accordin’ to rule in such
sarcumstances, is silent!”

“Justice may have alighted on him, and his death have saved the lives of
the innocent.”

“Not it—not it—the Sarpent is not the one to suffer if that’s
to be the law. Sartainly there has been no onset, and ’tis most likely
that the camp’s deserted, and the men are comin’ back disapp’inted. That
accounts for the growls of Hurry and the silence of the Sarpent.”

Just at this instant a fall of a paddle was heard in the canoe, for
vexation made March reckless. Deerslayer felt convinced that his
conjecture was true. The sail being down, the ark had not drifted far; and
ere many minutes he heard Chingachgook, in a low, quiet tone, directing
Hutter how to steer in order to reach it. In less time than it takes to
tell the fact, the canoe touched the scow, and the adventurers entered the
latter. Neither Hutter nor Hurry spoke of what had occurred. But the
Delaware, in passing his friend, merely uttered the words “fire’s out,”
which, if not literally true, sufficiently explained the truth to his
listener.

It was now a question as to the course to be steered. A short surly
conference was held, when Hutter decided that the wisest way would be to
keep in motion as the means most likely to defeat any attempt at a
surprise—announcing his own and March’s intention to requite
themselves for the loss of sleep during their captivity, by lying down. As
the air still baffled and continued light, it was finally determined to
sail before it, let it come in what direction it might, so long as it did
not blow the ark upon the strand. This point settled, the released
prisoners helped to hoist the sail, and they threw themselves upon two of
the pallets, leaving Deerslayer and his friend to look after the movements
of the craft. As neither of the latter was disposed to sleep, on account
of the appointment with Hist, this arrangement was acceptable to all
parties. That Judith and Hetty remained up also, in no manner impaired the
agreeable features of this change.

For some time the scow rather drifted than sailed along the western shore,
following a light southerly current of the air. The progress was slow—not
exceeding a couple of miles in the hour—but the two men perceived
that it was not only carrying them towards the point they desired to
reach, but at a rate that was quite as fast as the hour yet rendered
necessary. But little more was said the while even by the girls; and that
little had more reference to the rescue of Hist than to any other subject.
The Indian was calm to the eye, but as minute after minute passed, his
feelings became more and more excited, until they reached a state that
might have satisfied the demands of even the most exacting mistress.
Deerslayer kept the craft as much in the bays as was prudent, for the
double purpose of sailing within the shadows of the woods, and of
detecting any signs of an encampment they might pass on the shore. In this
manner they doubled one low point, and were already in the bay that was
terminated north by the goal at which they aimed. The latter was still a
quarter of a mile distant, when Chingachgook came silently to the side of
his friend and pointed to a place directly ahead. A small fire was
glimmering just within the verge of the bushes that lined the shore on the
southern side of the point—leaving no doubt that the Indians had
suddenly removed their camp to the very place, or at least the very
projection of land where Hist had given them the rendezvous!


Chapter XVI

One discovery mentioned at the close of the preceding chapter was of great
moment in the eyes of Deerslayer and his friend. In the first place, there
was the danger, almost the certainty, that Hutter and Hurry would make a
fresh attempt on this camp, should they awake and ascertain its position.
Then there was the increased risk of landing to bring off Hist; and there
were the general uncertainty and additional hazards that must follow from
the circumstance that their enemies had begun to change their positions.
As the Delaware was aware that the hour was near when he ought to repair
to the rendezvous, he no longer thought of trophies torn from his foes,
and one of the first things arranged between him and his associate was to
permit the two others to sleep on, lest they should disturb the execution
of their plans by substituting some of their own. The ark moved slowly,
and it would have taken fully a quarter of an hour to reach the point, at
the rate at which they were going, thus affording time for a little
forethought. The Indians, in the wish to conceal their fire from those who
were thought to be still in the castle, had placed it so near the southern
side of the point as to render it extremely difficult to shut it in by the
bushes, though Deerslayer varied the direction of the scow both to the
right and to the left, in the hope of being able to effect that object.

“There’s one advantage, Judith, in finding that fire so near the water,”
he said, while executing these little manoeuvres, “since it shows the
Mingos believe we are in the hut, and our coming on ’em from this quarter
will be an unlooked for event. But it’s lucky Harry March and your father
are asleep, else we should have ’em prowling after scalps ag’in. Ha! there—the
bushes are beginning to shut in the fire—and now it can’t be seen at
all!”

Deerslayer waited a little to make certain that he had at last gained the
desired position, when he gave the signal agreed on, and Chingachgook let
go the grapnel and lowered the sail.

The situation in which the ark now lay had its advantages and its
disadvantages. The fire had been hid by sheering towards the shore, and
the latter was nearer, perhaps, than was desirable. Still, the water was
known to be very deep further off in the lake, and anchoring in deep
water, under the circumstances in which the party was placed, was to be
avoided, if possible. It was also believed no raft could be within miles;
and though the trees in the darkness appeared almost to overhang the scow,
it would not be easy to get off to her without using a boat. The intense
darkness that prevailed so close in with the forest, too, served as an
effectual screen, and so long as care was had not to make a noise, there
was little or no danger of being detected. All these things Deerslayer
pointed out to Judith, instructing her as to the course she was to follow
in the event of an alarm; for it was thought to the last degree
inexpedient to arouse the sleepers, unless it might be in the greatest
emergency.

“And now, Judith, as we understand one another, it is time the Sarpent and
I had taken to the canoe,” the hunter concluded. “The star has not risen
yet, it’s true, but it soon must, though none of us are likely to be any
the wiser for it to-night, on account of the clouds. Howsever, Hist has a
ready mind, and she’s one of them that doesn’t always need to have a thing
afore her, to see it. I’ll warrant you she’ll not be either two minutes or
two feet out of the way, unless them jealous vagabonds, the Mingos, have
taken the alarm, and put her as a stool-pigeon to catch us, or have hid
her away, in order to prepare her mind for a Huron instead of a Mohican
husband.”

“Deerslayer,” interrupted the girl, earnestly; “this is a most dangerous
service; why do you go on it, at all?”

“Anan!—Why you know, gal, we go to bring off Hist, the Sarpent’s
betrothed—the maid he means to marry, as soon as we get back to the
tribe.”

“That is all right for the Indian—but you do not mean to marry Hist—you
are not betrothed, and why should two risk their lives and liberties, to
do that which one can just as well perform?”

“Ah—now I understand you, Judith—yes, now I begin to take the
idee. You think as Hist is the Sarpent’s betrothed, as they call it, and
not mine, it’s altogether his affair; and as one man can paddle a canoe he
ought to be left to go after his gal alone! But you forget this is our
ar’n’d here on the lake, and it would not tell well to forget an ar’n’d
just as the pinch came. Then, if love does count for so much with some
people, particularly with young women, fri’ndship counts for something,
too, with other some. I dares to say, the Delaware can paddle a canoe by
himself, and can bring off Hist by himself, and perhaps he would like that
quite as well, as to have me with him; but he couldn’t sarcumvent
sarcumventions, or stir up an ambushment, or fight with the savages, and
get his sweetheart at the same time, as well by himself as if he had a
fri’nd with him to depend on, even if that fri’nd is no better than
myself. No—no—Judith, you wouldn’t desert one that counted on
you, at such a moment, and you can’t, in reason, expect me to do it.”

“I fear—I believe you are right, Deerslayer, and yet I wish you were
not to go! Promise me one thing, at least, and that is, not to trust
yourself among the savages, or to do anything more than to save the girl.
That will be enough for once, and with that you ought to be satisfied.”

“Lord bless you! gal; one would think it was Hetty that’s talking, and not
the quick-witted and wonderful Judith Hutter! But fright makes the wise
silly, and the strong weak. Yes, I’ve seen proofs of that, time and ag’in!
Well, it’s kind and softhearted in you, Judith, to feel this consarn for a
fellow creatur’, and I shall always say that you are kind and of true
feelings, let them that envy your good looks tell as many idle stories of
you as they may.”

“Deerslayer!” hastily said the girl, interrupting him, though nearly
choked by her own emotions; “do you believe all you hear about a poor,
motherless girl? Is the foul tongue of Hurry Harry to blast my life?”

“Not it, Judith—not it. I’ve told Hurry it wasn’t manful to backbite
them he couldn’t win by fair means; and that even an Indian is always
tender, touching a young woman’s good name.”

“If I had a brother, he wouldn’t dare to do it!” exclaimed Judith, with
eyes flashing fire. “But, finding me without any protector but an old man,
whose ears are getting to be as dull as his feelings, he has his way as he
pleases!”

“Not exactly that, Judith; no, not exactly that, neither! No man, brother
or stranger, would stand by and see as fair a gal as yourself hunted down,
without saying a word in her behalf. Hurry’s in ‘arnest in wanting to make
you his wife, and the little he does let out ag’in you, comes more from
jealousy, like, than from any thing else. Smile on him when he awakes, and
squeeze his hand only half as hard as you squeezed mine a bit ago, and my
life on it, the poor fellow will forget every thing but your comeliness.
Hot words don’t always come from the heart, but oftener from the stomach
than anywhere else. Try him, Judith, when he awakes, and see the virtue of
a smile.”

Deerslayer laughed, in his own manner, as he concluded, and then he
intimated to the patient-looking, but really impatient Chingachgook, his
readiness to proceed. As the young man entered the canoe, the girl stood
immovable as stone, lost in the musings that the language and manner of
the other were likely to produce. The simplicity of the hunter had
completely put her at fault; for, in her narrow sphere, Judith was an
expert manager of the other sex; though in the present instance she was
far more actuated by impulses, in all she had said and done, than by
calculation. We shall not deny that some of Judith’s reflections were
bitter, though the sequel of the tale must be referred to, in order to
explain how merited, or how keen were her sufferings.

Chingachgook and his pale-face friend set forth on their hazardous and
delicate enterprise, with a coolness and method that would have done
credit to men who were on their twentieth, instead of being on their
first, war-path. As suited his relation to the pretty fugitive, in whose
service they were engaged, the Indian took his place in the head of the
canoe; while Deerslayer guided its movements in the stern. By this
arrangement, the former would be the first to land, and of course, the
first to meet his mistress. The latter had taken his post without comment,
but in secret influenced by the reflection that one who had so much at
stake as the Indian, might not possibly guide the canoe with the same
steadiness and intelligence, as another who had more command of his
feelings. From the instant they left the side of the ark, the movements of
the two adventurers were like the manoeuvres of highly-drilled soldiers,
who, for the first time were called on to meet the enemy in the field. As
yet, Chingachgook had never fired a shot in anger, and the debut of his
companion in warfare is known to the reader. It is true, the Indian had
been hanging about his enemy’s camp for a few hours, on his first arrival,
and he had even once entered it, as related in the last chapter, but no
consequences had followed either experiment. Now, it was certain that an
important result was to be effected, or a mortifying failure was to ensue.
The rescue, or the continued captivity of Hist, depended on the
enterprise. In a word, it was virtually the maiden expedition of these two
ambitious young forest soldiers; and while one of them set forth impelled
by sentiments that usually carry men so far, both had all their feelings
of pride and manhood enlisted in their success.

Instead of steering in a direct line to the point, then distant from the
ark less than a quarter of a mile, Deerslayer laid the head of his canoe
diagonally towards the centre of the lake, with a view to obtain a
position from which he might approach the shore, having his enemies in his
front only. The spot where Hetty had landed, and where Hist had promised
to meet them, moreover, was on the upper side of the projection rather
than on the lower; and to reach it would have required the two adventurers
to double nearly the whole point, close in with the shore, had not this
preliminary step been taken. So well was the necessity for this measure
understood, that Chingachgook quietly paddled on, although it was adopted
without consulting him, and apparently was taking him in a direction
nearly opposite to that one might think he most wished to go. A few
minutes sufficed, however, to carry the canoe the necessary distance, when
both the young men ceased paddling as it were by instinctive consent, and
the boat became stationary. The darkness increased rather than diminished,
but it was still possible, from the place where the adventurers lay, to
distinguish the outlines of the mountains. In vain did the Delaware turn
his head eastward, to catch a glimpse of the promised star; for,
notwithstanding the clouds broke a little near the horizon in that quarter
of the heavens, the curtain continued so far drawn as effectually to
conceal all behind it. In front, as was known by the formation of land
above and behind it, lay the point, at the distance of about a thousand
feet. No signs of the castle could be seen, nor could any movement in that
quarter of the lake reach the ear. The latter circumstance might have been
equally owing to the distance, which was several miles, or to the fact
that nothing was in motion. As for the ark, though scarcely farther from
the canoe than the point, it lay so completely buried in the shadows of
the shore, that it would not have been visible even had there been many
degrees more of light than actually existed.

The adventurers now held a conference in low voices, consulting together
as to the probable time. Deerslayer thought it wanted yet some minutes to
the rising of the star, while the impatience of the chief caused him to
fancy the night further advanced, and to believe that his betrothed was
already waiting his appearance on the shore. As might have been expected,
the opinion of the latter prevailed, and his friend disposed himself to
steer for the place of rendezvous. The utmost skill and precaution now
became necessary in the management of the canoe. The paddles were lifted
and returned to the water in a noiseless manner; and when within a hundred
yards of the beach, Chingachgook took in his, altogether laying his hand
on his rifle in its stead. As they got still more within the belt of
darkness that girded the woods, it was seen that they were steering too
far north, and the course was altered accordingly. The canoe now seemed to
move by instinct, so cautious and deliberate were all its motions. Still
it continued to advance, until its bows grated on the gravel of the beach,
at the precise spot where Hetty had landed, and whence her voice had
issued, the previous night, as the ark was passing. There was, as usual, a
narrow strand, but bushes fringed the woods, and in most places overhung
the water.

Chingachgook stepped upon the beach, and cautiously examined it for some
distance on each side of the canoe. In order to do this, he was often
obliged to wade to his knees in the lake, but no Hist rewarded his search.
When he returned, he found his friend also on the shore. They next
conferred in whispers, the Indian apprehending that they must have
mistaken the place of rendezvous. But Deerslayer thought it was probable
they had mistaken the hour. While he was yet speaking, he grasped the arm
of the Delaware, caused him to turn his head in the direction of the lake,
and pointed towards the summits of the eastern mountains. The clouds had
broken a little, apparently behind rather than above the hills, and the
evening star was glittering among the branches of a pine. This was every
way a flattering omen, and the young men leaned on their rifles, listening
intently for the sound of approaching footsteps. Voices they often heard,
and mingled with them were the suppressed cries of children, and the low
but sweet laugh of Indian women. As the native Americans are habitually
cautious, and seldom break out in loud conversation, the adventurers knew
by these facts that they must be very near the encampment. It was easy to
perceive that there was a fire within the woods, by the manner in which
some of the upper branches of the trees were illuminated, but it was not
possible, where they stood, to ascertain exactly how near it was to
themselves. Once or twice, it seemed as if stragglers from around the fire
were approaching the place of rendezvous; but these sounds were either
altogether illusion, or those who had drawn near returned again without
coming to the shore. A quarter of an hour was passed in this state of
intense expectation and anxiety, when Deerslayer proposed that they should
circle the point in the canoe; and by getting a position close in, where
the camp could be seen, reconnoitre the Indians, and thus enable
themselves to form some plausible conjectures for the non-appearance of
Hist. The Delaware, however, resolutely refused to quit the spot,
reasonably enough offering as a reason the disappointment of the girl,
should she arrive in his absence. Deerslayer felt for his friend’s
concern, and offered to make the circuit of the point by himself, leaving
the latter concealed in the bushes to await the occurrence of any
fortunate event that might favour his views. With this understanding,
then, the parties separated.

As soon as Deerslayer was at his post again, in the stern of the canoe, he
left the shore with the same precautions, and in the same noiseless
manner, as he had approached it. On this occasion he did not go far from
the land, the bushes affording a sufficient cover, by keeping as close in
as possible. Indeed, it would not have been easy to devise any means more
favourable to reconnoitering round an Indian camp, than those afforded by
the actual state of things. The formation of the point permitted the place
to be circled on three of its sides, and the progress of the boat was so
noiseless as to remove any apprehensions from an alarm through sound. The
most practised and guarded foot might stir a bunch of leaves, or snap a
dried stick in the dark, but a bark canoe could be made to float over the
surface of smooth water, almost with the instinctive readiness, and
certainly with the noiseless movements of an aquatic bird.

Deerslayer had got nearly in a line between the camp and the ark before he
caught a glimpse of the fire. This came upon him suddenly, and a little
unexpectedly, at first causing an alarm, lest he had incautiously ventured
within the circle of light it cast. But perceiving at a second glance that
he was certainly safe from detection, so long as the Indians kept near the
centre of the illumination, he brought the canoe to a state of rest in the
most favourable position he could find, and commenced his observations.

We have written much, but in vain, concerning this extraordinary being, if
the reader requires now to be told, that, untutored as he was in the
learning of the world, and simple as he ever showed himself to be in all
matters touching the subtleties of conventional taste, he was a man of
strong, native, poetical feeling. He loved the woods for their freshness,
their sublime solitudes, their vastness, and the impress that they
everywhere bore of the divine hand of their creator. He seldom moved
through them, without pausing to dwell on some peculiar beauty that gave
him pleasure, though seldom attempting to investigate the causes; and
never did a day pass without his communing in spirit, and this, too,
without the aid of forms or language, with the infinite source of all he
saw, felt, and beheld. Thus constituted, in a moral sense, and of a
steadiness that no danger could appall, or any crisis disturb, it is not
surprising that the hunter felt a pleasure at looking on the scene he now
beheld, that momentarily caused him to forget the object of his visit.
This will more fully appear when we describe it.

The canoe lay in front of a natural vista, not only through the bushes
that lined the shore, but of the trees also, that afforded a clear view of
the camp. It was by means of this same opening that the light had been
first seen from the ark. In consequence of their recent change of ground,
the Indians had not yet retired to their huts, but had been delayed by
their preparations, which included lodging as well as food. A large fire
had been made, as much to answer the purpose of torches as for the use of
their simple cookery; and at this precise moment it was blazing high and
bright, having recently received a large supply of dried brush. The effect
was to illuminate the arches of the forest, and to render the whole area
occupied by the camp as light as if hundreds of tapers were burning. Most
of the toil had ceased, and even the hungriest child had satisfied its
appetite. In a word, the time was that moment of relaxation and general
indolence which is apt to succeed a hearty meal, and when the labours of
the day have ended. The hunters and the fishermen had been totally
successful; and food, that one great requisite of savage life, being
abundant, every other care appeared to have subsided in the sense of
enjoyment dependent on this all-important fact.

Deerslayer saw at a glance that many of the warriors were absent. His
acquaintance Rivenoak, however, was present, being seated in the
foreground of a picture that Salvator Rosa would have delighted to draw,
his swarthy features illuminated as much by pleasure as by the torchlike
flame, while he showed another of the tribe one of the elephants that had
caused so much sensation among his people. A boy was looking over his
shoulder, in dull curiosity, completing the group. More in the background
eight or ten warriors lay half recumbent on the ground, or sat with their
backs reclining against trees, so many types of indolent repose. Their
arms were near them all, sometimes leaning against the same trees as
themselves, or were lying across their bodies in careless preparation. But
the group that most attracted the attention of Deerslayer was that
composed of the women and children. All the females appeared to be
collected together, and, almost as a matter of course, their young were
near them. The former laughed and chatted in their rebuked and quiet
manner, though one who knew the habits of the people might have detected
that everything was not going on in its usual train. Most of the young
women seemed to be light-hearted enough; but one old hag was seated apart
with a watchful soured aspect, which the hunter at once knew betokened
that some duty of an unpleasant character had been assigned her by the
chiefs. What that duty was, he had no means of knowing; but he felt
satisfied it must be in some measure connected with her own sex, the aged
among the women generally being chosen for such offices and no other.

As a matter of course, Deerslayer looked eagerly and anxiously for the
form of Hist. She was nowhere visible though the light penetrated to
considerable distances in all directions around the fire. Once or twice he
started, as he thought he recognized her laugh; but his ears were deceived
by the soft melody that is so common to the Indian female voice. At length
the old woman spoke loud and angrily, and then he caught a glimpse of one
or two dark figures in the background of trees, which turned as if
obedient to the rebuke, and walked more within the circle of the light. A
young warrior’s form first came fairly into view; then followed two
youthful females, one of whom proved to be the Delaware girl. Deerslayer
now comprehended it all. Hist was watched, possibly by her young
companion, certainly by the old woman. The youth was probably some suitor
of either her or her companion; but even his discretion was distrusted
under the influence of his admiration. The known vicinity of those who
might be supposed to be her friends, and the arrival of a strange red man
on the lake had induced more than the usual care, and the girl had not
been able to slip away from those who watched her in order to keep her
appointment. Deerslayer traced her uneasiness by her attempting once or
twice to look up through the branches of the trees, as if endeavouring to
get glimpses of the star she had herself named as the sign for meeting.
All was vain, however, and after strolling about the camp a little longer,
in affected indifference, the two girls quitted their male escort, and
took seats among their own sex. As soon as this was done, the old sentinel
changed her place to one more agreeable to herself, a certain proof that
she had hitherto been exclusively on watch.

Deerslayer now felt greatly at a loss how to proceed. He well knew that
Chingachgook could never be persuaded to return to the ark without making
some desperate effort for the recovery of his mistress, and his own
generous feelings well disposed him to aid in such an undertaking. He
thought he saw the signs of an intention among the females to retire for
the night; and should he remain, and the fire continue to give out its
light, he might discover the particular hut or arbour under which Hist
reposed; a circumstance that would be of infinite use in their future
proceedings. Should he remain, however, much longer where he was, there
was great danger that the impatience of his friend would drive him into
some act of imprudence. At each instant, indeed, he expected to see the
swarthy form of the Delaware appearing in the background, like the tiger
prowling around the fold. Taking all things into consideration, therefore,
he came to the conclusion it would be better to rejoin his friend, and
endeavour to temper his impetuosity by some of his own coolness and
discretion. It required but a minute or two to put this plan in execution,
the canoe returning to the strand some ten or fifteen minutes after it had
left it.

Contrary to his expectations, perhaps, Deerslayer found the Indian at his
post, from which he had not stirred, fearful that his betrothed might
arrive during his absence. A conference followed, in which Chingachgook
was made acquainted with the state of things in the camp. When Hist named
the point as the place of meeting, it was with the expectation of making
her escape from the old position, and of repairing to a spot that she
expected to find without any occupants; but the sudden change of
localities had disconcerted all her plans. A much greater degree of
vigilance than had been previously required was now necessary; and the
circumstance that an aged woman was on watch also denoted some special
grounds of alarm. All these considerations, and many more that will
readily suggest themselves to the reader, were briefly discussed before
the young men came to any decision. The occasion, however, being one that
required acts instead of words, the course to be pursued was soon chosen.

Disposing of the canoe in such a manner that Hist must see it, should she
come to the place of meeting previously to their return, the young men
looked to their arms and prepared to enter the wood. The whole projection
into the lake contained about two acres of land; and the part that formed
the point, and on which the camp was placed, did not compose a surface of
more than half that size. It was principally covered with oaks, which, as
is usual in the American forests, grew to a great height without throwing
out a branch, and then arched in a dense and rich foliage. Beneath, except
the fringe of thick bushes along the shore, there was very little
underbrush; though, in consequence of their shape, the trees were closer
together than is common in regions where the axe has been freely used,
resembling tall, straight, rustic columns, upholding the usual canopy of
leaves. The surface of the land was tolerably even, but it had a small
rise near its centre, which divided it into a northern and southern half.
On the latter, the Hurons had built their fire, profiting by the formation
to conceal it from their enemies, who, it will be remembered, were
supposed to be in the castle, which bore northerly. A brook also came
brawling down the sides of the adjacent hills, and found its way into the
lake on the southern side of the point. It had cut for itself a deep
passage through some of the higher portions of the ground, and, in later
days, when this spot has become subjected to the uses of civilization, by
its windings and shaded banks, it has become no mean accessory in
contributing to the beauty of the place. This brook lay west of the
encampment, and its waters found their way into the great reservoir of
that region on the same side, and quite near to the spot chosen for the
fire. All these peculiarities, so far as circumstances allowed, had been
noted by Deerslayer, and explained to his friend.

The reader will understand that the little rise in the ground, that lay
behind the Indian encampment, greatly favoured the secret advance of the
two adventurers. It prevented the light of the fire diffusing itself on
the ground directly in the rear, although the land fell away towards the
water, so as to leave what might be termed the left, or eastern flank of
the position unprotected by this covering. We have said unprotected,
though that is not properly the word, since the knoll behind the huts and
the fire offered a cover for those who were now stealthily approaching,
rather than any protection to the Indians. Deerslayer did not break
through the fringe of bushes immediately abreast of the canoe, which might
have brought him too suddenly within the influence of the light, since the
hillock did not extend to the water; but he followed the beach northerly
until he had got nearly on the opposite side of the tongue of land, which
brought him under the shelter of the low acclivity, and consequently more
in the shadow.

As soon as the friends emerged from the bushes, they stopped to
reconnoitre. The fire was still blazing behind the little ridge, casting
its light upward into the tops of the trees, producing an effect that was
more pleasing than advantageous. Still the glare had its uses; for, while
the background was in obscurity, the foreground was in strong light;
exposing the savages and concealing their foes. Profiting by the latter
circumstance, the young men advanced cautiously towards the ridge,
Deerslayer in front, for he insisted on this arrangement, lest the
Delaware should be led by his feelings into some indiscretion. It required
but a moment to reach the foot of the little ascent, and then commenced
the most critical part of the enterprise. Moving with exceeding caution,
and trailing his rifle, both to keep its barrel out of view, and in
readiness for service, the hunter put foot before foot, until he had got
sufficiently high to overlook the summit, his own head being alone brought
into the light. Chingachgook was at his side and both paused to take
another close examination of the camp. In order, however, to protect
themselves against any straggler in the rear, they placed their bodies
against the trunk of an oak, standing on the side next the fire.

The view that Deerslayer now obtained of the camp was exactly the reverse
of that he had perceived from the water. The dim figures which he had
formerly discovered must have been on the summit of the ridge, a few feet
in advance of the spot where he was now posted. The fire was still blazing
brightly, and around it were seated on logs thirteen warriors, which
accounted for all whom he had seen from the canoe. They were conversing,
with much earnestness among themselves, the image of the elephant passing
from hand to hand. The first burst of savage wonder had abated, and the
question now under discussion was the probable existence, the history and
the habits of so extraordinary an animal. We have not leisure to record
the opinions of these rude men on a subject so consonant to their lives
and experience; but little is hazarded in saying that they were quite as
plausible, and far more ingenious, than half the conjectures that precede
the demonstrations of science. However much they may have been at fault as
to their conclusions and inferences, it is certain that they discussed the
questions with a zealous and most undivided attention. For the time being
all else was forgotten, and our adventurers could not have approached at a
more fortunate instant.

The females were collected near each other, much as Deerslayer had last
seen them, nearly in a line between the place where he now stood and the
fire. The distance from the oak against which the young men leaned and the
warriors was about thirty yards; the women may have been half that number
of yards nigher. The latter, indeed, were so near as to make the utmost
circumspection, as to motion and noise, indispensable. Although they
conversed in their low, soft voices it was possible, in the profound
stillness of the woods, even to catch passages of the discourse; and the
light-hearted laugh that escaped the girls might occasionally have reached
the canoe. Deerslayer felt the tremolo that passed through the frame of
his friend when the latter first caught the sweet sounds that issued from
the plump, pretty lips of Hist. He even laid a hand on the shoulder of the
Indian, as a sort of admonition to command himself. As the conversation
grew more earnest, each leaned forward to listen.

“The Hurons have more curious beasts than that,” said one of the girls,
contemptuously, for, like the men, they conversed of the elephant and his
qualities. “The Delawares will think this creature wonderful, but
to-morrow no Huron tongue will talk of it. Our young men will find him if
the animals dare to come near our wigwams!”

This was, in fact, addressed to Wah-ta-Wah, though she who spoke uttered
her words with an assumed diffidence and humility that prevented her
looking at the other.

“The Delawares are so far from letting such creatures come into their
country,” returned Hist, “that no one has even seen their images there!
Their young men would frighten away the images as well as the beasts.”

“The Delaware young men!—the nation is women—even the deer
walk when they hear their hunters coming! Who has ever heard the name of a
young Delaware warrior?”

This was said in good-humour, and with a laugh; but it was also said
bitingly. That Hist so felt it, was apparent by the spirit betrayed in her
answer.

“Who has ever heard the name of a young Delaware?” she repeated earnestly.
“Tamenund, himself, though now as old as the pines on the hill, or as the
eagles in the air, was once young; his name was heard from the great salt
lake to the sweet waters of the west. What is the family of Uncas? Where
is another as great, though the pale-faces have ploughed up its grates,
and trodden on its bones? Do the eagles fly as high, is the deer as swift
or the panther as brave? Is there no young warrior of that race? Let the
Huron maidens open their eyes wider, and they may see one called
Chingachgook, who is as stately as a young ash, and as tough as the
hickory.”

As the girl used her figurative language and told her companions to “open
their eyes, and they would see” the Delaware, Deerslayer thrust his
fingers into the sides of his friend, and indulged in a fit of his hearty,
benevolent laughter. The other smiled; but the language of the speaker was
too flattering, and the tones of her voice too sweet for him to be led
away by any accidental coincidence, however ludicrous. The speech of Hist
produced a retort, and the dispute, though conducted in good-humour, and
without any of the coarse violence of tone and gesture that often impairs
the charms of the sex in what is called civilized life, grew warm and
slightly clamorous. In the midst of this scene, the Delaware caused his
friend to stoop, so as completely to conceal himself, and then he made a
noise so closely resembling the little chirrup of the smallest species of
the American squirrel, that Deerslayer himself, though he had heard the
imitation a hundred times, actually thought it came from one of the little
animals skipping about over his head. The sound is so familiar in the
woods, that none of the Hurons paid it the least attention. Hist, however,
instantly ceased talking, and sat motionless. Still she had sufficient
self-command to abstain from turning her head. She had heard the signal by
which her lover so often called her from the wigwam to the stolen
interview, and it came over her senses and her heart, as the serenade
affects the maiden in the land of song.

From that moment, Chingachgook felt certain that his presence was known.
This was effecting much, and he could now hope for a bolder line of
conduct on the part of his mistress than she might dare to adopt under an
uncertainty of his situation. It left no doubt of her endeavouring to aid
him in his effort to release her. Deerslayer arose as soon as the signal
was given, and though he had never held that sweet communion which is
known only to lovers, he was not slow to detect the great change that had
come over the manner of the girl. She still affected to dispute, though it
was no longer with spirit and ingenuity, but what she said was uttered
more as a lure to draw her antagonists on to an easy conquest, than with
any hopes of succeeding herself. Once or twice, it is true, her native
readiness suggested a retort, or an argument that raised a laugh, and gave
her a momentary advantage; but these little sallies, the offspring of
mother-wit, served the better to conceal her real feelings, and to give to
the triumph of the other party a more natural air than it might have
possessed without them. At length the disputants became wearied, and they
rose in a body as if about to separate. It was now that Hist, for the
first time, ventured to turn her face in the direction whence the signal
had come. In doing this, her movements were natural, but guarded, and she
stretched her arm and yawned, as if overcome with a desire to sleep. The
chirrup was again heard, and the girl felt satisfied as to the position of
her lover, though the strong light in which she herself was placed, and
the comparative darkness in which the adventurers stood, prevented her
from seeing their heads, the only portions of their forms that appeared
above the ridge at all. The tree against which they were posted had a dark
shadow cast upon it by the intervention of an enormous pine that grew
between it and the fire, a circumstance which alone would have rendered
objects within its cloud invisible at any distance. This Deerslayer well
knew, and it was one of the reasons why he had selected this particular
tree.

The moment was near when it became necessary for Hist to act. She was to
sleep in a small hut, or bower, that had been built near where she stood,
and her companion was the aged hag already mentioned. Once within the hut,
with this sleepless old woman stretched across the entrance, as was her
nightly practice, the hope of escape was nearly destroyed, and she might
at any moment be summoned to her bed. Luckily, at this instant one of the
warriors called to the old woman by name, and bade her bring him water to
drink. There was a delicious spring on the northern side of the point, and
the hag took a gourd from a branch and, summoning Hist to her side, she
moved towards the summit of the ridge, intending to descend and cross the
point to the natural fountain. All this was seen and understood by the
adventurers, and they fell back into the obscurity, concealing their
persons by trees, until the two females had passed them. In walking, Hist
was held tightly by the hand. As she moved by the tree that hid
Chingachgook and his friend the former felt for his tomahawk, with the
intention to bury it in the brain of the woman. But the other saw the
hazard of such a measure, since a single scream might bring all the
warriors upon them, and he was averse to the act on considerations of
humanity. His hand, therefore, prevented the blow. Still as the two moved
past, the chirrup was repeated, and the Huron woman stopped and faced the
tree whence the sounds seemed to proceed, standing, at the moment, within
six feet of her enemies. She expressed her surprise that a squirrel should
be in motion at so late an hour, and said it boded evil. Hist answered
that she had heard the same squirrel three times within the last twenty
minutes, and that she supposed it was waiting to obtain some of the crumbs
left from the late supper. This explanation appeared satisfactory, and
they moved towards the spring, the men following stealthily and closely.
The gourd was filled, and the old woman was hurrying back, her hand still
grasping the wrist of the girl, when she was suddenly seized so violently
by the throat as to cause her to release her captive, and to prevent her
making any other sound than a sort of gurgling, suffocating noise. The
Serpent passed his arm round the waist of his mistress and dashed through
the bushes with her, on the north side of the point. Here he immediately
turned along the beach and ran towards the canoe. A more direct course
could have been taken, but it might have led to a discovery of the place
of embarking.

Deerslayer kept playing on the throat of the old woman like the keys of an
organ, occasionally allowing her to breathe, and then compressing his
fingers again nearly to strangling. The brief intervals for breath,
however, were well improved, and the hag succeeded in letting out a
screech or two that served to alarm the camp. The tramp of the warriors,
as they sprang from the fire, was plainly audible, and at the next moment
three or four of them appeared on the top of the ridge, drawn against the
background of light, resembling the dim shadows of the phantasmagoria. It
was now quite time for the hunter to retreat. Tripping up the heels of his
captive, and giving her throat a parting squeeze, quite as much in
resentment at her indomitable efforts to sound the alarm as from any
policy, he left her on her back, and moved towards the bushes, his rifle
at a poise, and his head over his shoulders, like a lion at bay.


Chapter XVII.

The fire, the canoe, and the spring, near which Deerslayer commenced his
retreat, would have stood in the angles of a triangle of tolerably equal
sides. The distance from the fire to the boat was a little less than the
distance from the fire to the spring, while the distance from the spring
to the boat was about equal to that between the two points first named.
This, however, was in straight lines, a means of escape to which the
fugitives could not resort. They were obliged to have recourse to a detour
in order to get the cover of the bushes, and to follow the curvature of
the beach. Under these disadvantages, then, the hunter commenced his
retreat, disadvantages that he felt to be so much the greater from his
knowledge of the habits of all Indians, who rarely fail in cases of sudden
alarms, more especially when in the midst of cover, immediately to throw
out flankers, with a view to meet their foes at all points, and if
possible to turn their rear. That some such course was now adopted he
believed from the tramp of feet, which not only came up the ascent, as
related, but were also heard, under the first impulse, diverging not only
towards the hill in the rear, but towards the extremity of the point, in a
direction opposite to that he was about to take himself. Promptitude,
consequently became a matter of the last importance, as the parties might
meet on the strand, before the fugitive could reach the canoe.

Notwithstanding the pressing nature of the emergency, Deerslayer hesitated
a single instant, ere he plunged into the bushes that lined the shore. His
feelings had been awakened by the whole scene, and a sternness of purpose
had come over him, to which he was ordinarily a stranger. Four dark
figures loomed on the ridge, drawn against the brightness of the fire, and
an enemy might have been sacrificed at a glance. The Indians had paused to
gaze into the gloom, in search of the screeching hag, and with many a man
less given to reflection than the hunter, the death of one of them would
have been certain. Luckily he was more prudent. Although the rifle dropped
a little towards the foremost of his pursuers, he did not aim or fire, but
disappeared in the cover. To gain the beach, and to follow it round to the
place where Chingachgook was already in the canoe, with Hist, anxiously
waiting his appearance, occupied but a moment. Laying his rifle in the
bottom of the canoe, Deerslayer stooped to give the latter a vigorous
shove from the shore, when a powerful Indian leaped through the bushes,
alighting like a panther on his back. Everything was now suspended by a
hair; a false step ruining all. With a generosity that would have rendered
a Roman illustrious throughout all time, but which, in the career of one
so simple and humble, would have been forever lost to the world but for
this unpretending legend, Deerslayer threw all his force into a desperate
effort, shoved the canoe off with a power that sent it a hundred feet from
the shore, as it might be in an instant, and fell forward into the lake,
himself, face downward; his assailant necessarily following him.

Although the water was deep within a few yards of the beach, it was not
more than breast high, as close in as the spot where the two combatants
fell. Still this was quite sufficient to destroy one who had sunk, under
the great disadvantages in which Deerslayer was placed. His hands were
free, however, and the savage was compelled to relinquish his hug, to keep
his own face above the surface. For half a minute there was a desperate
struggle, like the floundering of an alligator that has just seized some
powerful prey, and then both stood erect, grasping each other’s arms, in
order to prevent the use of the deadly knife in the darkness. What might
have been the issue of this severe personal struggle cannot be known, for
half a dozen savages came leaping into the water to the aid of their
friend, and Deerslayer yielded himself a prisoner, with a dignity that was
as remarkable as his self-devotion.

To quit the lake and lead their new captive to the fire occupied the
Indians but another minute. So much engaged were they all with the
struggle and its consequences, that the canoe was unseen, though it still
lay so near the shore as to render every syllable that was uttered
perfectly intelligible to the Delaware and his betrothed; and the whole
party left the spot, some continuing the pursuit after Hist, along the
beach, though most proceeded to the light. Here Deerslayer’s antagonist so
far recovered his breath and his recollection, for he had been throttled
nearly to strangulation, as to relate the manner in which the girl had got
off. It was now too late to assail the other fugitives, for no sooner was
his friend led into the bushes than the Delaware placed his paddle into
the water, and the light canoe glided noiselessly away, holding its course
towards the centre of the lake until safe from shot, after which it sought
the Ark. When Deerslayer reached the fire, he found himself surrounded by
no less than eight grim savages, among whom was his old acquaintance
Rivenoak. As soon as the latter caught a glimpse of the captive’s
countenance, he spoke apart to his companions, and a low but general
exclamation of pleasure and surprise escaped them. They knew that the
conqueror of their late friend, he who had fallen on the opposite side of
the lake, was in their hands, and subject to their mercy, or vengeance.
There was no little admiration mingled in the ferocious looks that were
thrown on the prisoner; an admiration that was as much excited by his
present composure, as by his past deeds. This scene may be said to have
been the commencement of the great and terrible reputation that
Deerslayer, or Hawkeye, as he was afterwards called, enjoyed among all the
tribes of New York and Canada; a reputation that was certainly more
limited in its territorial and numerical extent, than those which are
possessed in civilized life, but which was compensated for what it wanted
in these particulars, perhaps, by its greater justice, and the total
absence of mystification and management.

The arms of Deerslayer were not pinioned, and he was left the free use of
his hands, his knife having been first removed. The only precaution that
was taken to secure his person was untiring watchfulness, and a strong
rope of bark that passed from ankle to ankle, not so much to prevent his
walking, as to place an obstacle in the way of his attempting to escape by
any sudden leap. Even this extra provision against flight was not made
until the captive had been brought to the light, and his character
ascertained. It was, in fact, a compliment to his prowess, and he felt
proud of the distinction. That he might be bound when the warriors slept
he thought probable, but to be bound in the moment of capture showed that
he was already, and thus early, attaining a name. While the young Indians
were fastening the rope, he wondered if Chingachgook would have been
treated in the same manner, had he too fallen into the hands of the enemy.
Nor did the reputation of the young pale-face rest altogether on his
success in the previous combat, or in his discriminating and cool manner
of managing the late negotiation, for it had received a great accession by
the occurrences of the night. Ignorant of the movements of the Ark, and of
the accident that had brought their fire into view, the Iroquois
attributed the discovery of their new camp to the vigilance of so shrewd a
foe. The manner in which he ventured upon the point, the abstraction or
escape of Hist, and most of all the self-devotion of the prisoner, united
to the readiness with which he had sent the canoe adrift, were so many
important links in the chain of facts, on which his growing fame was
founded. Many of these circumstances had been seen, some had been
explained, and all were understood.

While this admiration and these honors were so unreservedly bestowed on
Deerslayer, he did not escape some of the penalties of his situation. He
was permitted to seat himself on the end of a log, near the fire, in order
to dry his clothes, his late adversary standing opposite, now holding
articles of his own scanty vestments to the heat, and now feeling his
throat, on which the marks of his enemy’s fingers were still quite
visible. The rest of the warriors consulted together, near at hand, all
those who had been out having returned to report that no signs of any
other prowlers near the camp were to be found. In this state of things,
the old woman, whose name was Shebear, in plain English, approached
Deerslayer, with her fists clenched and her eyes flashing fire. Hitherto,
she had been occupied with screaming, an employment at which she had
played her part with no small degree of success, but having succeeded in
effectually alarming all within reach of a pair of lungs that had been
strengthened by long practice, she next turned her attention to the
injuries her own person had sustained in the struggle. These were in no
manner material, though they were of a nature to arouse all the fury of a
woman who had long ceased to attract by means of the gentler qualities,
and who was much disposed to revenge the hardships she had so long
endured, as the neglected wife and mother of savages, on all who came
within her power. If Deerslayer had not permanently injured her, he had
temporarily caused her to suffer, and she was not a person to overlook a
wrong of this nature, on account of its motive.

“Skunk of the pale-faces,” commenced this exasperated and semi-poetic
fury, shaking her fist under the nose of the impassable hunter, “you are
not even a woman. Your friends the Delawares are only women, and you are
their sheep. Your own people will not own you, and no tribe of redmen
would have you in their wigwams; you skulk among petticoated warriors. You
slay our brave friend who has left us?—No—his great soul
scorned to fight you, and left his body rather than have the shame of
slaying you! But the blood that you spilt when the spirit was not looking
on, has not sunk into the ground. It must be buried in your groans. What
music do I hear? Those are not the wailings of a red man!—no red
warrior groans so much like a hog. They come from a pale-face throat—a
Yengeese bosom, and sound as pleasant as girls singing—Dog—skunk—woodchuck-mink—hedgehog—pig—toad—spider—yengee—”

Here the old woman, having expended her breath and exhausted her epithets,
was fain to pause a moment, though both her fists were shaken in the
prisoner’s face, and the whole of her wrinkled countenance was filled with
fierce resentment. Deerslayer looked upon these impotent attempts to
arouse him as indifferently as a gentleman in our own state of society
regards the vituperative terms of a blackguard: the one party feeling that
the tongue of an old woman could never injure a warrior, and the other
knowing that mendacity and vulgarity can only permanently affect those who
resort to their use; but he was spared any further attack at present, by
the interposition of Rivenoak, who shoved aside the hag, bidding her quit
the spot, and prepared to take his seat at the side of his prisoner. The
old woman withdrew, but the hunter well understood that he was to be the
subject of all her means of annoyance, if not of positive injury, so long
as he remained in the power of his enemies, for nothing rankles so deeply
as the consciousness that an attempt to irritate has been met by contempt,
a feeling that is usually the most passive of any that is harbored in the
human breast. Rivenoak quietly took the seat we have mentioned, and, after
a short pause, he commenced a dialogue, which we translate as usual, for
the benefit of those readers who have not studied the North American
languages.

“My pale-face friend is very welcome,” said the Indian, with a familiar
nod, and a smile so covert that it required all Deerslayer’s vigilance to
detect, and not a little of his philosophy to detect unmoved; “he is
welcome. The Hurons keep a hot fire to dry the white man’s clothes by.”

“I thank you, Huron—or Mingo, as I most like to call you,” returned
the other, “I thank you for the welcome, and I thank you for the fire.
Each is good in its way, and the last is very good, when one has been in a
spring as cold as the Glimmerglass. Even Huron warmth may be pleasant, at
such a time, to a man with a Delaware heart.”

“The pale-face—but my brother has a name? So great a warrior would
not have lived without a name?”

“Mingo,” said the hunter, a little of the weakness of human nature
exhibiting itself in the glance of his eye, and the colour on his cheek—“Mingo,
your brave called me Hawkeye, I suppose on account of a quick and sartain
aim, when he was lying with his head in my lap, afore his spirit started
for the Happy Hunting Grounds.”

“’Tis a good name! The hawk is sure of his blow. Hawkeye is not a woman;
why does he live with the Delawares?”

“I understand you, Mingo, but we look on all that as a sarcumvention of
some of your subtle devils, and deny the charge. Providence placed me
among the Delawares young, and, ‘bating what Christian usages demand of my
colour and gifts, I hope to live and die in their tribe. Still I do not
mean to throw away altogether my natyve rights, and shall strive to do a
pale-face’s duty, in red-skin society.”

“Good; a Huron is a red-skin, as well as a Delaware. Hawkeye is more of a
Huron than of a woman.”

“I suppose you know, Mingo, your own meaning; if you don’t I make no
question ’tis well known to Satan. But if you wish to get any thing out of
me, speak plainer, for bargains can not be made blindfolded, or tongue
tied.”

“Good; Hawkeye has not a forked tongue, and he likes to say what he
thinks. He is an acquaintance of the Muskrat,” this was the name by which
all the Indians designated Hutter—“and has lived in his wigwam. But
he is not a friend. He wants no scalps, like a miserable Indian, but
fights like a stout-hearted pale-face. The Muskrat is neither white, nor
red. Neither a beast nor a fish. He is a water snake; sometimes in the
spring and sometimes on the land. He looks for scalps, like an outcast.
Hawkeye can go back and tell him how he has outwitted the Hurons, how he
has escaped, and when his eyes are in a fog, when he can’t see as far as
from his cabin to the shore, then Hawkeye can open the door for the
Hurons. And how will the plunder be divided? Why, Hawkeye, will carry away
the most, and the Hurons will take what he may choose to leave behind him.
The scalps can go to Canada, for a pale-face has no satisfaction in them.”

“Well, well, Rivenoak—for so I hear ’em tarm you—This is plain
English, enough, though spoken in Iroquois. I understand all you mean,
now, and must say it out-devils even Mingo deviltry! No doubt, ‘twould be
easy enough to go back and tell the Muskrat that I had got away from you,
and gain some credit, too, by the expl’ite.”

“Good. That is what I want the pale-face to do.”

“Yes—yes—That’s plain enough. I know what you want me to do,
without more words. When inside the house, and eating the Muskrat’s bread,
and laughing and talking with his pretty darters, I might put his eyes
into so thick a fog, that he couldn’t even see the door, much less the
land.”

“Good! Hawkeye should have been born a Huron! His blood is not more than
half white!”

“There you’re out, Huron; yes, there you’re as much out, as if you mistook
a wolf for a catamount. I’m white in blood, heart, natur’ and gifts,
though a little red-skin in feelin’s and habits. But when old Hutter’s
eyes are well befogged, and his pretty darters perhaps in a deep sleep,
and Hurry Harry, the Great Pine as you Indians tarm him, is dreaming of
any thing but mischief, and all suppose Hawkeye is acting as a faithful
sentinel, all I have to do is set a torch somewhere in sight for a signal,
open the door, and let in the Hurons, to knock ’em all on the head.”

“Surely my brother is mistaken. He cannot be white! He is worthy to be a
great chief among the Hurons!”

“That is true enough, I dares to say, if he could do all this. Now,
harkee, Huron, and for once hear a few honest words from the mouth of a
plain man. I am Christian born, and them that come of such a stock, and
that listen to the words that were spoken to their fathers and will be
spoken to their children, until ‘arth and all it holds perishes, can never
lend themselves to such wickedness. Sarcumventions in war, may be, and
are, lawful; but sarcumventions, and deceit, and treachery among fri’inds
are fit only for the pale-face devils. I know that there are white men
enough to give you this wrong idee of our natur’, but such be ontrue to
their blood and gifts, and ought to be, if they are not, outcasts and
vagabonds. No upright pale-face could do what you wish, and to be as plain
with you as I wish to be, in my judgment no upright Delaware either. With
a Mingo it may be different.”

The Huron listened to this rebuke with obvious disgust, but he had his
ends in view, and was too wily to lose all chance of effecting them by a
precipitate avowal of resentment. Affecting to smile, he seemed to listen
eagerly, and he then pondered on what he had heard.

“Does Hawkeye love the Muskrat?” he abruptly demanded; “Or does he love
his daughters?”

“Neither, Mingo. Old Tom is not a man to gain my love, and, as for the
darters, they are comely enough to gain the liking of any young man, but
there’s reason ag’in any very great love for either. Hetty is a good soul,
but natur’ has laid a heavy hand on her mind, poor thing.”

“And the Wild Rose!” exclaimed the Huron—for the fame of Judith’s
beauty had spread among those who could travel the wilderness, as well as
the highway by means of old eagles’ nests, rocks, and riven trees known to
them by report and tradition, as well as among the white borderers, “And
the Wild Rose; is she not sweet enough to be put in the bosom of my
brother?”

Deerslayer had far too much of the innate gentleman to insinuate aught
against the fair fame of one who, by nature and position was so helpless,
and as he did not choose to utter an untruth, he preferred being silent.
The Huron mistook the motive, and supposed that disappointed affection lay
at the bottom of his reserve. Still bent on corrupting or bribing his
captive, in order to obtain possession of the treasures with which his
imagination filled the Castle, he persevered in his attack.

“Hawkeye is talking with a friend,” he continued. “He knows that Rivenoak
is a man of his word, for they have traded together, and trade opens the
soul. My friend has come here on account of a little string held by a
girl, that can pull the whole body of the sternest warrior?”

“You are nearer the truth, now, Huron, than you’ve been afore, since we
began to talk. This is true. But one end of that string was not fast to my
heart, nor did the Wild Rose hold the other.”

“This is wonderful! Does my brother love in his head, and not in his
heart? And can the Feeble Mind pull so hard against so stout a warrior?”

“There it is ag’in; sometimes right, and sometimes wrong! The string you
mean is fast to the heart of a great Delaware; one of Mohican stock in
fact, living among the Delawares since the disparsion of his own people,
and of the family of Uncas—Chingachgook by name, or Great Sarpent.
He has come here, led by the string, and I’ve followed, or rather come
afore, for I got here first, pulled by nothing stronger than fri’ndship;
which is strong enough for such as are not niggardly of their feelin’s,
and are willing to live a little for their fellow creatur’s, as well as
for themselves.”

“But a string has two ends—one is fast to the mind of a Mohican; and
the other?”

“Why the other was here close to the fire, half an hour since. Wah-ta-Wah
held it in her hand, if she didn’t hold it to her heart.”

“I understand what you mean, my brother,” returned the Indian gravely, for
the first time catching a direct clue to the adventures of the evening.
“The Great Serpent, being strongest, pulled the hardest, and Hist was
forced to leave us.”

“I don’t think there was much pulling about it,” answered the other,
laughing, always in his silent manner, with as much heartiness as if he
were not a captive, and in danger of torture or death—“I don’t think
there was much pulling about it; no I don’t. Lord help you, Huron! He
likes the gal, and the gal likes him, and it surpassed Huron
sarcumventions to keep two young people apart, where there was so strong a
feelin’ to bring ’em together.”

“And Hawkeye and Chingachgook came into our camp on this errand, only?”

“That’s a question that’ll answer itself, Mingo! Yes, if a question could
talk it would answer itself, to your parfect satisfaction. For what else
should we come? And yet, it isn’t exactly so, neither; for we didn’t come
into your camp at all, but only as far as that pine, there, that you see
on the other side of the ridge, where we stood watching your movements,
and conduct, as long as we liked. When we were ready, the Sarpent gave his
signal, and then all went just as it should, down to the moment when
yonder vagabond leaped upon my back. Sartain; we come for that, and for no
other purpose, and we got what we come for; there’s no use in pretending
otherwise. Hist is off with a man who’s the next thing to her husband, and
come what will to me, that’s one good thing detarmined.”

“What sign, or signal, told the young maiden that her lover was nigh?”
asked the Huron with more curiosity than it was usual for him to betray.

Deerslayer laughed again, and seem’d to enjoy the success of the exploit,
with as much glee as if he had not been its victim.

“Your squirrels are great gadabouts, Mingo,” he cried still laughing—“yes,
they’re sartainly great gadabouts! When other folk’s squirrels are at home
and asleep, yourn keep in motion among the trees, and chirrup and sing, in
a way that even a Delaware gal can understand their musick! Well, there’s
four legged squirrels, and there’s two legged squirrels, and give me the
last, when there’s a good tight string atween two hearts. If one brings
’em together, t’other tells when to pull hardest!”

The Huron looked vexed, though he succeeded in suppressing any violent
exhibition of resentment. He now quitted his prisoner and, joining the
rest of the warriors, he communicated the substance of what he had
learned. As in his own case, admiration was mingled with anger at the
boldness and success of their enemies. Three or four of them ascended the
little acclivity and gazed at the tree where it was understood the
adventurers had posted themselves, and one even descended to it, and
examined for foot prints around its roots, in order to make sure that the
statement was true. The result confirmed the story of the captive, and
they all returned to the fire with increased wonder and respect. The
messenger who had arrived with some communication from the party above,
while the two adventurers were watching the camp, was now despatched with
some answer, and doubtless bore with him the intelligence of all that had
happened.

Down to this moment, the young Indian who had been seen walking in company
with Hist and another female had made no advances to any communication
with Deerslayer. He had held himself aloof from his friends, even, passing
near the bevy of younger women, who were clustering together, apart as
usual, and conversed in low tones on the subject of the escape of their
late companion. Perhaps it would be true to say that these last were
pleased as well as vexed at what had just occurred. Their female
sympathies were with the lovers, while their pride was bound up in the
success of their own tribe. It is possible, too, that the superior
personal advantages of Hist rendered her dangerous to some of the younger
part of the group, and they were not sorry to find she was no longer in
the way of their own ascendency. On the whole, however, the better feeling
was most prevalent, for neither the wild condition in which they lived,
the clannish prejudices of tribes, nor their hard fortunes as Indian
women, could entirely conquer the inextinguishable leaning of their sex to
the affections. One of the girls even laughed at the disconsolate look of
the swain who might fancy himself deserted, a circumstance that seemed
suddenly to arouse his energies, and induce him to move towards the log,
on which the prisoner was still seated, drying his clothes.

“This is Catamount!” said the Indian, striking his hand boastfully on his
naked breast, as he uttered the words in a manner to show how much weight
he expected them to carry.

“This is Hawkeye,” quietly returned Deerslayer, adopting the name by which
he knew he would be known in future, among all the tribes of the Iroquois.
“My sight is keen; is my brother’s leap long?”

“From here to the Delaware villages. Hawkeye has stolen my wife; he must
bring her back, or his scalp will hang on a pole, and dry in my wigwam.”

“Hawkeye has stolen nothing, Huron. He doesn’t come of a thieving breed,
nor has he thieving gifts. Your wife, as you call Wah-ta-Wah, will never
be the wife of any red-skin of the Canadas; her mind is in the cabin of a
Delaware, and her body has gone to find it. The catamount is actyve I
know, but its legs can’t keep pace with a woman’s wishes.”

“The Serpent of the Delawares is a dog—he is a poor bull trout that
keeps in the water; he is afraid to stand on the hard earth, like a brave
Indian!”

“Well, well, Huron, that’s pretty impudent, considering it’s not an hour
since the Sarpent stood within a hundred feet of you, and would have tried
the toughness of your skin with a rifle bullet, when I pointed you out to
him, hadn’t I laid the weight of a little judgment on his hand. You may
take in timorsome gals in the settlements, with your catamount whine, but
the ears of a man can tell truth from ontruth.”

“Hist laughs at him! She sees he is lame, and a poor hunter, and he has
never been on a war path. She will take a man for a husband, and not a
fish.”

“How do you know that, Catamount? how do you know that?” returned
Deerslayer laughing. “She has gone into the lake, you see, and maybe she
prefars a trout to a mongrel cat. As for war paths, neither the Sarpent
nor I have much exper’ence, we are ready to own, but if you don’t call
this one, you must tarm it, what the gals in the settlements tarm it, the
high road to matrimony. Take my advice, Catamount, and s’arch for a wife
among the Huron women; you’ll never get one with a willing mind from among
the Delawares.”

Catamount’s hand felt for his tomahawk, and when the fingers reached the
handle they worked convulsively, as if their owner hesitated between
policy and resentment. At this critical moment Rivenoak approached, and by
a gesture of authority, induced the young man to retire, assuming his
former position, himself, on the log at the side of Deerslayer. Here he
continued silent for a little time, maintaining the grave reserve of an
Indian chief.

“Hawkeye is right,” the Iroquois at length began; “his sight is so strong
that he can see truth in a dark night, and our eyes have been blinded. He
is an owl, darkness hiding nothing from him. He ought not to strike his
friends. He is right.”

“I’m glad you think so, Mingo,” returned the other, “for a traitor, in my
judgment, is worse than a coward. I care as little for the Muskrat, as one
pale-face ought to care for another, but I care too much for him to ambush
him in the way you wished. In short, according to my idees, any
sarcumventions, except open-war sarcumventions, are ag’in both law, and
what we whites call ‘gospel’, too.”

“My pale-face brother is right; he is no Indian, to forget his Manitou and
his colour. The Hurons know that they have a great warrior for their
prisoner, and they will treat him as one. If he is to be tortured, his
torments shall be such as no common man can bear; if he is to be treated
as a friend, it will be the friendship of chiefs.”

As the Huron uttered this extraordinary assurance of consideration, his
eye furtively glanced at the countenance of his listener, in order to
discover how he stood the compliment, though his gravity and apparent
sincerity would have prevented any man but one practised in artifices,
from detecting his motives. Deerslayer belonged to the class of the
unsuspicious, and acquainted with the Indian notions of what constitutes
respect, in matters connected with the treatment of captives, he felt his
blood chill at the announcement, even while he maintained an aspect so
steeled that his quick sighted enemy could discover in it no signs of
weakness.

“God has put me in your hands, Huron,” the captive at length answered,
“and I suppose you will act your will on me. I shall not boast of what I
can do, under torment, for I’ve never been tried, and no man can say till
he has been; but I’ll do my endivours not to disgrace the people among
whom I got my training. Howsever, I wish you now to bear witness that I’m
altogether of white blood, and, in a nat’ral way of white gifts too; so,
should I be overcome and forget myself, I hope you’ll lay the fault where
it properly belongs, and in no manner put it on the Delawares, or their
allies and friends the Mohicans. We’re all created with more or less
weakness, and I’m afeard it’s a pale-face’s to give in under great bodily
torment, when a red-skin will sing his songs, and boast of his deeds in
the very teeth of his foes.”

“We shall see. Hawkeye has a good countenance, and he is tough—but
why should he be tormented, when the Hurons love him? He is not born their
enemy, and the death of one warrior will not cast a cloud between them
forever.”

“So much the better, Huron; so much the better. Still I don’t wish to owe
any thing to a mistake about each other’s meaning. It is so much the
better that you bear no malice for the loss of a warrior who fell in war,
and yet it is ontrue that there is no inmity—lawful inmity I mean—atween
us. So far as I have red-skin feelin’s at all, I’ve Delaware feelin’s, and
I leave you to judge for yourself how far they are likely to be fri’ndly
to the Mingos—”

Deerslayer ceased, for a sort of spectre stood before him, that put a stop
to his words, and, indeed, caused him for a moment to doubt the fidelity
of his boasted vision. Hetty Hutter was standing at the side of the fire
as quietly as if she belonged to the tribe.

As the hunter and the Indian sat watching the emotions that were betrayed
in each other’s countenance, the girl had approached unnoticed, doubtless
ascending from the beach on the southern side of the point, or that next
to the spot where the Ark had anchored, and had advanced to the fire with
the fearlessness that belonged to her simplicity, and which was certainly
justified by the treatment formerly received from the Indians. As soon as
Rivenoak perceived the girl, she was recognised, and calling to two or
three of the younger warriors, the chief sent them out to reconnoitre,
lest her appearance should be the forerunner of another attack. He then
motioned to Hetty to draw near.

“I hope your visit is a sign that the Sarpent and Hist are in safety,
Hetty,” said Deerslayer, as soon as the girl had complied with the Huron’s
request. “I don’t think you’d come ashore ag’in, on the arr’nd that
brought you here afore.”

“Judith told me to come this time, Deerslayer,” Hetty replied, “she
paddled me ashore herself, in a canoe, as soon as the Serpent had shown
her Hist and told his story. How handsome Hist is to-night, Deerslayer,
and how much happier she looks than when she was with the Hurons!”

“That’s natur’ gal; yes, that may be set down as human natur’. She’s with
her betrothed, and no longer fears a Mingo husband. In my judgment Judith,
herself, would lose most of her beauty if she thought she was to bestow it
all on a Mingo! Content is a great fortifier of good looks, and I’ll
warrant you, Hist is contented enough, now she is out of the hands of
these miscreants, and with her chosen warrior! Did you say that Judith
told you to come ashore—why should your sister do that?”

“She bid me come to see you, and to try and persuade the savages to take
more elephants to let you off, but I’ve brought the Bible with me—that
will do more than all the elephants in father’s chest!”

“And your father, good little Hetty—and Hurry; did they know of your
arr’nd?”

“Not they. Both are asleep, and Judith and the Serpent thought it best
they should not be woke, lest they might want to come again after scalps,
when Hist had told them how few warriors, and how many women and children
there were in the camp. Judith would give me no peace, till I had come
ashore to see what had happened to you.”

“Well, that’s remarkable as consarns Judith! Whey should she feel so much
unsartainty about me?—Ah—-I see how it is, now; yes, I see
into the whole matter, now. You must understand, Hetty, that your sister
is oneasy lest Harry March should wake, and come blundering here into the
hands of the inimy ag’in, under some idee that, being a travelling
comrade, he ought to help me in this matter! Hurry is a blunderer, I will
allow, but I don’t think he’d risk as much for my sake, as he would for
his own.”

“Judith don’t care for Hurry, though Hurry cares for her,” replied Hetty
innocently, but quite positively.

“I’ve heard you say as much as that afore; yes, I’ve heard that from you,
afore, gal, and yet it isn’t true. One don’t live in a tribe, not to see
something of the way in which liking works in a woman’s heart. Though no
way given to marrying myself, I’ve been a looker on among the Delawares,
and this is a matter in which pale-face and red-skin gifts are all as one
as the same. When the feelin’ begins, the young woman is thoughtful, and
has no eyes or ears onless for the warrior that has taken her fancy; then
follows melancholy and sighing, and such sort of actions; after which,
especially if matters don’t come to plain discourse, she often flies round
to back biting and fault finding, blaming the youth for the very things
she likes best in him. Some young creatur’s are forward in this way of
showing their love, and I’m of opinion Judith is one of ’em. Now, I’ve
heard her as much as deny that Hurry was good-looking, and the young woman
who could do that, must be far gone indeed!”

“The young woman who liked Hurry would own that he is handsome. I think
Hurry very handsome, Deerslayer, and I’m sure everybody must think so,
that has eyes. Judith don’t like Harry March, and that’s the reason she
finds fault with him.”

“Well—well—my good little Hetty, have it your own way. If we
should talk from now till winter, each would think as at present, and
there’s no use in words. I must believe that Judith is much wrapped up in
Hurry, and that, sooner or later, she’ll have him; and this, too, all the
more from the manner in which she abuses him; and I dare to say, you think
just the contrary. But mind what I now tell you, gal, and pretend not to
know it,” continued this being, who was so obtuse on a point on which men
are usually quick enough to make discoveries, and so acute in matters that
would baffle the observation of much the greater portion of mankind, “I
see how it is, with them vagabonds. Rivenoak has left us, you see, and is
talking yonder with his young men, and though too far to be heard, I can
see what he is telling them. Their orders is to watch your movements, and
to find where the canoe is to meet you, to take you back to the Ark, and
then to seize all and what they can. I’m sorry Judith sent you, for I
suppose she wants you to go back ag’in.”

“All that’s settled, Deerslayer,” returned the girl, in a low,
confidential and meaning manner, “and you may trust me to outwit the best
Indian of them all. I know I am feeble minded, but I’ve got some sense,
and you’ll see how I’ll use it in getting back, when my errand is done!”

“Ahs! me, poor girl; I’m afeard all that’s easier said than done. They’re
a venomous set of riptyles and their p’ison’s none the milder, for the
loss of Hist. Well, I’m glad the Sarpent was the one to get off with the
gal, for now there’ll be two happy at least, whereas had he fallen into
the hands of the Mingos, there’d been two miserable, and another far from
feelin’ as a man likes to feel.”

“Now you put me in mind of a part of my errand that I had almost
forgotten, Deerslayer. Judith told me to ask you what you thought the
Hurons would do with you, if you couldn’t be bought off, and what she had
best do to serve you. Yes, this was the most important part of the errand—what
she had best do, in order to serve you?”

“That’s as you think, Hetty; but it’s no matter. Young women are apt to
lay most stress on what most touches their feelin’s; but no matter; have
it your own way, so you be but careful not to let the vagabonds get the
mastery of a canoe. When you get back to the Ark, tell ’em to keep close,
and to keep moving too, most especially at night. Many hours can’t go by
without the troops on the river hearing of this party, and then your
fri’nds may look for relief. ‘Tis but a day’s march from the nearest
garrison, and true soldiers will never lie idle with the foe in their
neighborhood. This is my advice, and you may say to your father and Hurry
that scalp-hunting will be a poor business now, as the Mingos are up and
awake, and nothing can save ’em, ’till the troops come, except keeping a
good belt of water atween ’em and the savages.”

“What shall I tell Judith about you, Deerslayer; I know she will send me
back again, if I don’t bring her the truth about you.”

“Then tell her the truth. I see no reason Judith Hutter shouldn’t hear the
truth about me, as well as a lie. I’m a captyve in Indian hands, and
Providence only knows what will come of it! Harkee, Hetty,” dropping his
voice and speaking still more confidentially, “you are a little weak
minded, it must be allowed, but you know something of Injins. Here I am in
their hands, after having slain one of their stoutest warriors, and
they’ve been endivouring to work upon me through fear of consequences, to
betray your father, and all in the Ark. I understand the blackguards as
well as if they’d told it all out plainly, with their tongues. They hold
up avarice afore me, on one side, and fear on t’other, and think honesty
will give way atween ’em both. But let your father and Hurry know, ’tis
all useless; as for the Sarpent, he knows it already.”

“But what shall I tell Judith? She will certainly send me back, if I don’t
satisfy her mind.”

“Well, tell Judith the same. No doubt the savages will try the torments,
to make me give in, and to revenge the loss of their warrior, but I must
hold out ag’in nat’ral weakness in the best manner I can. You may tell
Judith to feel no consarn on my account—it will come hard I know,
seeing that a white man’s gifts don’t run to boasting and singing under
torment, for he generally feels smallest when he suffers most—but
you may tell her not to have any consarn. I think I shall make out to
stand it, and she may rely on this, let me give in, as much as I may, and
prove completely that I am white, by wailings, and howlings, and even
tears, yet I’ll never fall so far as to betray my fri’nds. When it gets to
burning holes in the flesh, with heated ramrods, and to hacking the body,
and tearing the hair out by the roots, natur’ may get the upperhand, so
far as groans, and complaints are consarned, but there the triumph of the
vagabonds will ind; nothing short of God’s abandoning him to the devils
can make an honest man ontrue to his colour and duty.”

Hetty listened with great attention, and her mild but speaking countenance
manifested a strong sympathy in the anticipated agony of the
supposititious sufferer. At first she seemed at a loss how to act; then,
taking a hand of Deerslayer’s she affectionately recommended to him to
borrow her Bible, and to read it while the savages were inflicting their
torments. When the other honestly admitted that it exceeded his power to
read, she even volunteered to remain with him, and to perform this holy
office in person. The offer was gently declined, and Rivenoak being about
to join them, Deerslayer requested the girl to leave him, first enjoining
her again to tell those in the Ark to have full confidence in his
fidelity. Hetty now walked away, and approached the group of females with
as much confidence and self-possession as if she were a native of the
tribe. On the other hand the Huron resumed his seat by the side of his
prisoner, the one continuing to ask questions with all the wily ingenuity
of a practised Indian counsellor, and the other baffling him by the very
means that are known to be the most efficacious in defeating the finesse
of the more pretending diplomacy of civilization, or by confining his
answers to the truth, and the truth only.


Chapter XVIII

The young men who had been sent out to reconnoitre, on the sudden
appearance of Hetty, soon returned to report their want of success in
making any discovery. One of them had even been along the beach as far as
the spot opposite to the ark, but the darkness had completely concealed
that vessel from his notice. Others had examined in different directions,
and everywhere the stillness of night was added to the silence and
solitude of the woods.

It was consequently believed that the girl had come alone, as on her
former visit, and on some similar errand. The Iroquois were ignorant that
the ark had left the castle, and there were movements projected, if not in
the course of actual execution, by this time, which also greatly added to
the sense of security. A watch was set, therefore, and all but the
sentinels disposed themselves to sleep. Sufficient care was had to the
safe keeping of the captive, without inflicting on him any unnecessary
suffering; and, as for Hetty, she was permitted to find a place among the
Indian girls in the best manner she could. She did not find the friendly
offices of Hist, though her character not only bestowed impunity from pain
and captivity, but it procured for her a consideration and an attention
that placed her, on the score of comfort, quite on a level with the wild
but gentle beings around her. She was supplied with a skin, and made her
own bed on a pile of boughs a little apart from the huts. Here she was
soon in a profound sleep, like all around her.

There were now thirteen men in the party, and three kept watch at a time.
One remained in shadow, not far from the fire, however. His duty was to
guard the captive, to take care that the fire neither blazed up so as to
illuminate the spot, nor yet became wholly extinguished, and to keep an
eye generally on the state of the camp. Another passed from one beach to
the other, crossing the base of the point, while the third kept moving
slowly around the strand on its outer extremity, to prevent a repetition
of the surprise that had already taken place that night. This arrangement
was far from being usual among savages, who ordinarily rely more on the
secrecy of their movements, than on vigilance of this nature; but it had
been called for by the peculiarity of the circumstances in which the
Hurons were now placed. Their position was known to their foes, and it
could not easily be changed at an hour which demanded rest. Perhaps, too,
they placed most of their confidence on the knowledge of what they
believed to be passing higher up the lake, and which, it was thought,
would fully occupy the whole of the pale-faces who were at liberty, with
their solitary Indian ally. It was also probable Rivenoak was aware that,
in holding his captive, he had in his own hands the most dangerous of all
his enemies.

The precision with which those accustomed to watchfulness, or lives of
disturbed rest, sleep, is not the least of the phenomena of our mysterious
being. The head is no sooner on the pillow than consciousness is lost; and
yet, at a necessary hour, the mind appears to arouse the body, as promptly
as if it had stood sentinel the while over it. There can be no doubt that
they who are thus roused awake by the influence of thought over matter,
though the mode in which this influence is exercised must remain hidden
from our curiosity until it shall be explained, should that hour ever
arrive, by the entire enlightenment of the soul on the subject of all
human mysteries. Thus it was with Hetty Hutter. Feeble as the immaterial
portion of her existence was thought to be, it was sufficiently active to
cause her to open her eyes at midnight. At that hour she awoke, and
leaving her bed of skin and boughs she walked innocently and openly to the
embers of the fire, stirring the latter, as the coolness of the night and
the woods, in connection with an exceedingly unsophisticated bed, had a
little chilled her. As the flame shot up, it lighted the swarthy
countenance of the Huron on watch, whose dark eyes glistened under its
light like the balls of the panther that is pursued to his den with
burning brands. But Hetty felt no fear, and she approached the spot where
the Indian stood. Her movements were so natural, and so perfectly devoid
of any of the stealthiness of cunning or deception, that he imagined she
had merely arisen on account of the coolness of the night, a common
occurrence in a bivouac, and the one of all others, perhaps, the least
likely to excite suspicion. Hetty spoke to him, but he understood no
English. She then gazed near a minute at the sleeping captive, and moved
slowly away in a sad and melancholy manner. The girl took no pains to
conceal her movements. Any ingenious expedient of this nature quite likely
exceeded her powers; still her step was habitually light, and scarcely
audible. As she took the direction of the extremity of the point, or the
place where she had landed in the first adventure, and where Hist had
embarked, the sentinel saw her light form gradually disappear in the gloom
without uneasiness or changing his own position. He knew that others were
on the look-out, and he did not believe that one who had twice come into
the camp voluntarily, and had already left it openly, would take refuge in
flight. In short, the conduct of the girl excited no more attention that
that of any person of feeble intellect would excite in civilized society,
while her person met with more consideration and respect.

Hetty certainly had no very distinct notions of the localities, but she
found her way to the beach, which she reached on the same side of the
point as that on which the camp had been made. By following the margin of
the water, taking a northern direction, she soon encountered the Indian
who paced the strand as sentinel. This was a young warrior, and when he
heard her light tread coming along the gravel he approached swiftly,
though with anything but menace in his manner. The darkness was so intense
that it was not easy to discover forms within the shadows of the woods at
the distance of twenty feet, and quite impossible to distinguish persons
until near enough to touch them. The young Huron manifested disappointment
when he found whom he had met; for, truth to say, he was expecting his
favourite, who had promised to relieve the ennui of a midnight watch with
her presence. This man was also ignorant of English, but he was at no loss
to understand why the girl should be up at that hour. Such things were
usual in an Indian village and camp, where sleep is as irregular as the
meals. Then poor Hetty’s known imbecility, as in most things connected
with the savages, stood her friend on this occasion. Vexed at his
disappointment, and impatient of the presence of one he thought an
intruder, the young warrior signed for the girl to move forward, holding
the direction of the beach. Hetty complied; but as she walked away she
spoke aloud in English in her usual soft tones, which the stillness of the
night made audible at some little distance.

“If you took me for a Huron girl, warrior,” she said, “I don’t wonder you
are so little pleased. I am Hetty Hutter, Thomas Hutter’s daughter, and
have never met any man at night, for mother always said it was wrong, and
modest young women should never do it; modest young women of the
pale-faces, I mean; for customs are different in different parts of the
world, I know. No, no; I’m Hetty Hutter, and wouldn’t meet even Hurry
Harry, though he should fall down on his knees and ask me! Mother said it
was wrong.”

By the time Hetty had said this, she reached the place where the canoes
had come ashore, and, owing to the curvature of the land and the bushes,
would have been completely hid from the sight of the sentinel, had it been
broad day. But another footstep had caught the lover’s ear, and he was
already nearly beyond the sound of the girl’s silvery voice. Still Hetty,
bent only on her own thoughts and purposes, continued to speak, though the
gentleness of her tones prevented the sounds from penetrating far into the
woods. On the water they were more widely diffused.

“Here I am, Judith,” she added, “and there is no one near me. The Huron on
watch has gone to meet his sweetheart, who is an Indian girl you know, and
never had a Christian mother to tell her how wrong it is to meet a man at
night.”

Hetty’s voice was hushed by a “Hist!” that came from the water, and then
she caught a dim view of the canoe, which approached noiselessly, and soon
grated on the shingle with its bow. The moment the weight of Hetty was
felt in the light craft the canoe withdrew, stern foremost, as if
possessed of life and volition, until it was a hundred yards from the
shore. Then it turned and, making a wide sweep, as much to prolong the
passage as to get beyond the sound of voices, it held its way towards the
ark. For several minutes nothing was uttered; but, believing herself to be
in a favourable position to confer with her sister, Judith, who alone sat
in the stern, managing the canoe with a skill little short of that of a
man, began a discourse which she had been burning to commence ever since
they had quitted the point.

“Here we are safe, Hetty,” she said, “and may talk without the fear of
being overheard. You must speak low, however, for sounds are heard far on
the water in a still night. I was so close to the point some of the time
while you were on it, that I have heard the voices of the warriors, and I
heard your shoes on the gravel of the beach, even before you spoke.”

“I don’t believe, Judith, the Hurons know I have left them.”

“Quite likely they do not, for a lover makes a poor sentry, unless it be
to watch for his sweetheart! But tell me, Hetty, did you see and speak
with Deerslayer?”

“Oh, yes—there he was seated near the fire, with his legs tied,
though they left his arms free, to move them as he pleased.”

“Well, what did he tell you, child? Speak quick; I am dying to know what
message he sent me.”

“What did he tell me? why, what do you think, Judith; he told me that he
couldn’t read! Only think of that! a white man, and not know how to read
his Bible even! He never could have had a mother, sister!”

“Never mind that, Hetty. All men can’t read; though mother knew so much
and taught us so much, father knows very little about books, and he can
barely read the Bible you know.”

“Oh! I never thought fathers could read much, but mothers ought all to
read, else how can they teach their children? Depend on it, Judith,
Deerslayer could never have had a mother, else he would know how to read.”

“Did you tell him I sent you ashore, Hetty, and how much concern I feel
for his misfortune?” asked the other, impatiently.

“I believe I did, Judith; but you know I am feeble-minded, and I may have
forgotten. I did tell him you brought me ashore. And he told me a great
deal that I was to say to you, which I remember well, for it made my blood
run cold to hear him. He told me to say that his friends—I suppose
you are one of them, sister?”

“How can you torment me thus, Hetty! Certainly, I am one of the truest
friends he has on earth.”

“Torment you! yes, now I remember all about it. I am glad you used that
word, Judith, for it brings it all back to my mind. Well, he said he might
be tormented by the savages, but he would try to bear it as becomes a
Christian white man, and that no one need be afeard—why does
Deerslayer call it afeard, when mother always taught us to say afraid?”

“Never mind, dear Hetty, never mind that, now,” cried the other, almost
gasping for breath. “Did Deerslayer really tell you that he thought the
savages would put him to the torture? Recollect now, well, Hetty, for this
is a most awful and serious thing.”

“Yes he did; and I remember it by your speaking about my tormenting you.
Oh! I felt very sorry for him, and Deerslayer took all so quietly and
without noise! Deerslayer is not as handsome as Hurry Harry, Judith, but
he is more quiet.”

“He’s worth a million Hurrys! yes, he’s worth all the young men who ever
came upon the lake put together,” said Judith, with an energy and
positiveness that caused her sister to wonder. “He is true. There is no
lie about Deerslayer. You, Hetty, may not know what a merit it is in a man
to have truth, but when you get—no—I hope you will never know
it. Why should one like you be ever made to learn the hard lesson to
distrust and hate!”

Judith bowed her face, dark as it was, and unseen as she must have been by
any eye but that of Omniscience, between her hands, and groaned. This
sudden paroxysm of feeling, however, lasted but for a moment, and she
continued more calmly, still speaking frankly to her sister, whose
intelligence, and whose discretion in any thing that related to herself,
she did not in the least distrust. Her voice, however, was low and husky,
instead of having its former clearness and animation.

“It is a hard thing to fear truth, Hetty,” she said, “and yet do I more
dread Deerslayer’s truth, than any enemy! One cannot tamper with such
truth—so much honesty—such obstinate uprightness! But we are
not altogether unequal, sister—Deerslayer and I? He is not
altogether my superior?”

It was not usual for Judith so far to demean herself as to appeal to
Hetty’s judgment. Nor did she often address her by the title of sister, a
distinction that is commonly given by the junior to the senior, even where
there is perfect equality in all other respects. As trifling departures
from habitual deportment oftener strike the imagination than more
important changes, Hetty perceived the circumstances, and wondered at them
in her own simple way. Her ambition was a little quickened, and the answer
was as much out of the usual course of things as the question; the poor
girl attempting to refine beyond her strength.

“Superior, Judith!” she repeated with pride. “In what can Deerslayer be
your superior? Are you not mother’s child—and does he know how to
read—and wasn’t mother before any woman in all this part of the
world? I should think, so far from supposing himself your superior, he
would hardly believe himself mine. You are handsome, and he is ugly—”

“No, not ugly, Hetty,” interrupted Judith. “Only plain. But his honest
face has a look in it that is far better than beauty. In my eyes,
Deerslayer is handsomer than Hurry Harry.”

“Judith Hutter! you frighten me. Hurry is the handsomest mortal in the
world—even handsomer than you are yourself; because a man’s good
looks, you know, are always better than a woman’s good looks.”

This little innocent touch of natural taste did not please the elder
sister at the moment, and she did not scruple to betray it. “Hetty, you
now speak foolishly, and had better say no more on this subject,” she
answered. “Hurry is not the handsomest mortal in the world, by many; and
there are officers in the garrisons—” Judith stammered at the words—“there
are officers in the garrisons, near us, far comelier than he. But why do
you think me the equal of Deerslayer—speak of that, for I do not
like to hear you show so much admiration of a man like Hurry Harry, who
has neither feelings, manners, nor conscience. You are too good for him,
and he ought to be told it, at once.”

“I! Judith, how you forget! Why I am not beautiful, and am feeble-minded.”

“You are good, Hetty, and that is more than can be said of Harry March. He
may have a face, and a body, but he has no heart. But enough of this, for
the present. Tell me what raises me to an equality with Deerslayer.”

“To think of you asking me this, Judith! He can’t read, and you can. He
don’t know how to talk, but speaks worse than Hurry even;—for,
sister, Harry doesn’t always pronounce his words right! Did you ever
notice that?”

“Certainly, he is as coarse in speech as in everything else. But I fear
you flatter me, Hetty, when you think I can be justly called the equal of
a man like Deerslayer. It is true, I have been better taught; in one sense
am more comely; and perhaps might look higher; but then his truth—his
truth—makes a fearful difference between us! Well, I will talk no
more of this; and we will bethink us of the means of getting him out of
the hands of the Hurons. We have father’s chest in the ark, Hetty, and
might try the temptation of more elephants; though I fear such baubles
will not buy the liberty of a man like Deerslayer. I am afraid father and
Hurry will not be as willing to ransom Deerslayer, as Deerslayer was to
ransom them!”

“Why not, Judith? Hurry and Deerslayer are friends, and friends should
always help one another.”

“Alas! poor Hetty, you little know mankind! Seeming friends are often more
to be dreaded than open enemies; particularly by females. But you’ll have
to land in the morning, and try again what can be done for Deerslayer.
Tortured he shall not be, while Judith Hutter lives, and can find means to
prevent it.”

The conversation now grew desultory, and was drawn out, until the elder
sister had extracted from the younger every fact that the feeble faculties
of the latter permitted her to retain, and to communicate. When Judith was
satisfied—though she could never be said to be satisfied, whose
feelings seemed to be so interwoven with all that related to the subject,
as to have excited a nearly inappeasable curiosity—but, when Judith
could think of no more questions to ask, without resorting to repetition,
the canoe was paddled towards the scow. The intense darkness of the night,
and the deep shadows which the hills and forest cast upon the water,
rendered it difficult to find the vessel, anchored, as it had been, as
close to the shore as a regard to safety rendered prudent. Judith was
expert in the management of a bark canoe, the lightness of which demanded
skill rather than strength; and she forced her own little vessel swiftly
over the water, the moment she had ended her conference with Hetty, and
had come to the determination to return. Still no ark was seen. Several
times the sisters fancied they saw it, looming up in the obscurity, like a
low black rock; but on each occasion it was found to be either an optical
illusion, or some swell of the foliage on the shore. After a search that
lasted half an hour, the girls were forced to the unwelcome conviction
that the ark had departed. Most young women would have felt the
awkwardness of their situation, in a physical sense, under the
circumstances in which the sisters were left, more than any apprehensions
of a different nature. Not so with Judith, however; and even Hetty felt
more concern about the motives that might have influenced her father and
Hurry, than any fears for her own safety.

“It cannot be, Hetty,” said Judith, when a thorough search had satisfied
them both that no ark was to be found; “it cannot be that the Indians have
rafted, or swum off and surprised our friends as they slept?”

“I don’t believe that Hist and Chingachgook would sleep until they had
told each other all they had to say after so long a separation—do
you, sister?”

“Perhaps not, child. There was much to keep them awake, but one Indian may
have been surprised even when not asleep, especially as his thoughts may
have been on other things. Still we should have heard a noise; for in a
night like this, an oath of Hurry Harry’s would have echoed in the eastern
hills like a clap of thunder.”

“Hurry is sinful and thoughtless about his words, Judith,” Hetty meekly
and sorrowfully answered.

“No—no; ’tis impossible the ark could be taken and I not hear the
noise. It is not an hour since I left it, and the whole time I have been
attentive to the smallest sound. And yet, it is not easy to believe a
father would willingly abandon his children!”

“Perhaps father has thought us in our cabin asleep, Judith, and has moved
away to go home. You know we often move the ark in the night.”

“This is true, Hetty, and it must be as you suppose. There is a little
more southern air than there was, and they have gone up the lake—”
Judith stopped, for, as the last word was on her tongue, the scene was
suddenly lighted, though only for a single instant, by a flash. The crack
of a rifle succeeded, and then followed the roll of the echo along the
eastern mountains. Almost at the same moment a piercing female cry rose in
the air in a prolonged shriek. The awful stillness that succeeded was, if
possible, more appalling than the fierce and sudden interruption of the
deep silence of midnight. Resolute as she was both by nature and habit,
Judith scarce breathed, while poor Hetty hid her face and trembled.

“That was a woman’s cry, Hetty,” said the former solemnly, “and it was a
cry of anguish! If the ark has moved from this spot it can only have gone
north with this air, and the gun and shriek came from the point. Can any
thing have befallen Hist?”

“Let us go and see, Judith; she may want our assistance—for, besides
herself, there are none but men in the ark.”

It was not a moment for hesitation, and ere Judith had ceased speaking her
paddle was in the water. The distance to the point, in a direct line, was
not great, and the impulses under which the girls worked were too exciting
to allow them to waste the precious moments in useless precautions. They
paddled incautiously for them, but the same excitement kept others from
noting their movements. Presently a glare of light caught the eye of
Judith through an opening in the bushes, and steering by it, she so
directed the canoe as to keep it visible, while she got as near the land
as was either prudent or necessary.

The scene that was now presented to the observation of the girls was
within the woods, on the side of the declivity so often mentioned, and in
plain view from the boat. Here all in the camp were collected, some six or
eight carrying torches of fat-pine, which cast a strong but funereal light
on all beneath the arches of the forest. With her back supported against a
tree, and sustained on one side by the young sentinel whose remissness had
suffered Hetty to escape, sat the female whose expected visit had produced
his delinquency. By the glare of the torch that was held near her face, it
was evident that she was in the agonies of death, while the blood that
trickled from her bared bosom betrayed the nature of the injury she had
received. The pungent, peculiar smell of gunpowder, too, was still quite
perceptible in the heavy, damp night air. There could be no question that
she had been shot. Judith understood it all at a glance. The streak of
light had appeared on the water a short distance from the point, and
either the rifle had been discharged from a canoe hovering near the land,
or it had been fired from the ark in passing. An incautious exclamation,
or laugh, may have produced the assault, for it was barely possible that
the aim had been assisted by any other agent than sound. As to the effect,
that was soon still more apparent, the head of the victim dropping, and
the body sinking in death. Then all the torches but one were extinguished—a
measure of prudence; and the melancholy train that bore the body to the
camp was just to be distinguished by the glimmering light that remained.
Judith sighed heavily and shuddered, as her paddle again dipped, and the
canoe moved cautiously around the point. A sight had afflicted her senses,
and now haunted her imagination, that was still harder to be borne, than
even the untimely fate and passing agony of the deceased girl.

She had seen, under the strong glare of all the torches, the erect form of
Deerslayer, standing with commiseration, and as she thought, with shame
depicted on his countenance, near the dying female. He betrayed neither
fear nor backwardness himself; but it was apparent by the glances cast at
him by the warriors, that fierce passions were struggling in their bosoms.
All this seemed to be unheeded by the captive, but it remained impressed
on the memory of Judith throughout the night. No canoe was met hovering
near the point. A stillness and darkness, as complete as if the silence of
the forest had never been disturbed, or the sun had never shone on that
retired region, now reigned on the point, and on the gloomy water, the
slumbering woods, and even the murky sky. No more could be done,
therefore, than to seek a place of safety; and this was only to be found
in the centre of the lake. Paddling in silence to that spot, the canoe was
suffered to drift northerly, while the girls sought such repose as their
situation and feelings would permit.


Chapter XIX

The conjecture of Judith Hutter, concerning the manner in which the Indian
girl had met her death, was accurate in the main. After sleeping several
hours, her father and March awoke. This occurred a few minutes after she
had left the Ark to go in quest of her sister, and when of course
Chingachgook and his betrothed were on board. From the Delaware the old
man learned the position of the camp, and the recent events, as well as
the absence of his daughters. The latter gave him no concern, for he
relied greatly on the sagacity of the elder, and the known impunity with
which the younger passed among the savages. Long familiarity with danger,
too, had blunted his sensibilities. Nor did he seem much to regret the
captivity of Deerslayer, for, while he knew how material his aid might be
in a defence, the difference in their views on the morality of the woods,
had not left much sympathy between them. He would have rejoiced to know
the position of the camp before it had been alarmed by the escape of Hist,
but it would be too hazardous now to venture to land, and he reluctantly
relinquished for the night the ruthless designs that cupidity and revenge
had excited him to entertain. In this mood Hutter took a seat in the head
of the scow, where he was quickly joined by Hurry, leaving the Serpent and
Hist in quiet possession of the other extremity of the vessel.

“Deerslayer has shown himself a boy, in going among the savages at this
hour, and letting himself fall into their hands like a deer that tumbles
into a pit,” growled the old man, perceiving as usual the mote in his
neighbor’s eyes, while he overlooked the beam in his own; “if he is left
to pay for his stupidity with his own flesh, he can blame no one but
himself.”

“That’s the way of the world, old Tom,” returned Hurry. “Every man must
meet his own debts, and answer for his own sins. I’m amazed, howsever,
that a lad as skilful and watchful as Deerslayer should have been caught
in such a trap! Didn’t he know any better than to go prowling about a
Huron camp at midnight, with no place to retreat to but a lake? or did he
think himself a buck, that by taking to the water could throw off the
scent and swim himself out of difficulty? I had a better opinion of the
boy’s judgment, I’ll own; but we must overlook a little ignorance in a raw
hand. I say, Master Hutter, do you happen to know what has become of the
gals—I see no signs of Judith, or Hetty, though I’ve been through
the Ark, and looked into all its living creatur’s.”

Hutter briefly explained the manner in which his daughters had taken to
the canoe, as it had been related by the Delaware, as well as the return
of Judith after landing her sister, and her second departure.

“This comes of a smooth tongue, Floating Tom,” exclaimed Hurry, grating
his teeth in pure resentment—“This comes of a smooth tongue, and a
silly gal’s inclinations, and you had best look into the matter! You and I
were both prisoners—” Hurry could recall that circumstance now—“you
and I were both prisoners and yet Judith never stirred an inch to do us
any sarvice! She is bewitched with this lank-looking Deerslayer, and he,
and she, and you, and all of us, had best look to it. I am not a man to
put up with such a wrong quietly, and I say, all the parties had best look
to it! Let’s up kedge, old fellow, and move nearer to this p’int, and see
how matters are getting on.”

Hutter had no objections to this movement, and the Ark was got under way
in the usual manner; care being taken to make no noise. The wind was
passing northward, and the sail soon swept the scow so far up the lake as
to render the dark outlines of the trees that clothed the point dimly
visible. Floating Tom steered, and he sailed along as near the land as the
depth of the water and the overhanging branches would allow. It was
impossible to distinguish anything that stood within the shadows of the
shore, but the forms of the sail and of the hut were discerned by the
young sentinel on the beach, who has already been mentioned. In the moment
of sudden surprise, a deep Indian exclamation escaped him. In that spirit
of recklessness and ferocity that formed the essence of Hurry’s character,
this man dropped his rifle and fired. The ball was sped by accident, or by
that overruling providence which decides the fates of all, and the girl
fell. Then followed the scene with the torches, which has just been
described.

At the precise moment when Hurry committed this act of unthinking cruelty,
the canoe of Judith was within a hundred feet of the spot from which the
Ark had so lately moved. Her own course has been described, and it has now
become our office to follow that of her father and his companions. The
shriek announced the effects of the random shot of March, and it also
proclaimed that the victim was a woman. Hurry himself was startled at
these unlooked for consequences, and for a moment he was sorely disturbed
by conflicting sensations. At first he laughed, in reckless and
rude-minded exultation; and then conscience, that monitor planted in our
breasts by God, and which receives its more general growth from the
training bestowed in the tillage of childhood, shot a pang to his heart.
For a minute, the mind of this creature equally of civilization and of
barbarism, was a sort of chaos as to feeling, not knowing what to think of
its own act; and then the obstinacy and pride of one of his habits,
interposed to assert their usual ascendency. He struck the butt of his
rifle on the bottom of the scow, with a species of defiance, and began to
whistle a low air with an affectation of indifference. All this time the
Ark was in motion, and it was already opening the bay above the point, and
was consequently quitting the land.

Hurry’s companions did not view his conduct with the same indulgence as
that with which he appeared disposed to regard it himself. Hutter growled
out his dissatisfaction, for the act led to no advantage, while it
threatened to render the warfare more vindictive than ever, and none
censure motiveless departures from the right more severely than the
mercenary and unprincipled. Still he commanded himself, the captivity of
Deerslayer rendering the arm of the offender of double consequence to him
at that moment. Chingachgook arose, and for a single instant the ancient
animosity of tribes was forgotten, in a feeling of colour; but he
recollected himself in season to prevent any of the fierce consequences
that, for a passing moment, he certainly meditated. Not so with Hist.
Rushing through the hut, or cabin, the girl stood at the side of Hurry,
almost as soon as his rifle touched the bottom of the scow, and with a
fearlessness that did credit to her heart, she poured out her reproaches
with the generous warmth of a woman.

“What for you shoot?” she said. “What Huron gal do, dat you kill him? What
you t’ink Manitou say? What you t’ink Manitou feel? What Iroquois do? No
get honour—no get camp—no get prisoner—no get battle—no
get scalp—no get not’ing at all! Blood come after blood! How you
feel, your wife killed? Who pity you, when tear come for moder, or sister?
You big as great pine—Huron gal little slender birch—why you
fall on her and crush her? You t’ink Huron forget it? No; red-skin never
forget! Never forget friend; never forget enemy. Red man Manitou in dat.
Why you so wicked, great pale-face?”

Hurry had never been so daunted as by this close and warm attack of the
Indian girl. It is true that she had a powerful ally in his conscience,
and while she spoke earnestly, it was in tones so feminine as to deprive
him of any pretext for unmanly anger. The softness of her voice added to
the weight of her remonstrance, by lending to the latter an air of purity
and truth. Like most vulgar minded men, he had only regarded the Indians
through the medium of their coarser and fiercer characteristics. It had
never struck him that the affections are human, that even high principles—modified
by habits and prejudices, but not the less elevated within their circle—can
exist in the savage state, and that the warrior who is most ruthless in
the field, can submit to the softest and gentlest influences in the
moments of domestic quiet. In a word, it was the habit of his mind to
regard all Indians as being only a slight degree removed from the wild
beasts that roamed the woods, and to feel disposed to treat them
accordingly, whenever interest or caprice supplied a motive or an impulse.
Still, though daunted by these reproaches, the handsome barbarian could
hardly be said to be penitent. He was too much rebuked by conscience to
suffer an outbreak of temper to escape him, and perhaps he felt that he
had already committed an act that might justly bring his manhood in
question. Instead of resenting, or answering the simple but natural appeal
of Hist, he walked away, like one who disdained entering into a
controversy with a woman.

In the mean while the Ark swept onward, and by the time the scene with the
torches was enacting beneath the trees, it had reached the open lake,
Floating Tom causing it to sheer further from the land with a sort of
instinctive dread of retaliation. An hour now passed in gloomy silence, no
one appearing disposed to break it. Hist had retired to her pallet, and
Chingachgook lay sleeping in the forward part of the scow. Hutter and
Hurry alone remained awake, the former at the steering oar, while the
latter brooded over his own conduct, with the stubbornness of one little
given to a confession of his errors, and the secret goadings of the worm
that never dies. This was at the moment when Judith and Hetty reached the
centre of the lake, and had lain down to endeavor to sleep in their
drifting canoe.

The night was calm, though so much obscured by clouds. The season was not
one of storms, and those which did occur in the month of June, on that
embedded water, though frequently violent were always of short
continuance. Nevertheless, there was the usual current of heavy, damp
night air, which, passing over the summits of the trees, scarcely appeared
to descend as low as the surface of the glassy lake, but kept moving a
short distance above it, saturated with the humidity that constantly arose
from the woods, and apparently never proceeding far in any one direction.
The currents were influenced by the formation of the hills, as a matter of
course, a circumstance that rendered even fresh breezes baffling, and
which reduced the feebler efforts of the night air to be a sort of
capricious and fickle sighings of the woods. Several times the head of the
Ark pointed east, and once it was actually turned towards the south,
again; but, on the whole, it worked its way north; Hutter making always a
fair wind, if wind it could be called, his principal motive appearing to
keep in motion, in order to defeat any treacherous design of his enemies.
He now felt some little concern about his daughters, and perhaps as much
about the canoe; but, on the whole, this uncertainty did not much disturb
him, as he had the reliance already mentioned on the intelligence of
Judith.

It was the season of the shortest nights, and it was not long before the
deep obscurity which precedes the day began to yield to the returning
light. If any earthly scene could be presented to the senses of man that
might soothe his passions and temper his ferocity, it was that which grew
upon the eyes of Hutter and Hurry as the hours advanced, changing night to
morning. There were the usual soft tints of the sky, in which neither the
gloom of darkness nor the brilliancy of the sun prevails, and under which
objects appear more unearthly, and we might add holy, than at any other
portion of the twenty four hours. The beautiful and soothing calm of
eventide has been extolled by a thousand poets, and yet it does not bring
with it the far-reaching and sublime thoughts of the half hour that
precedes the rising of a summer sun. In the one case the panorama is
gradually hid from the sight, while in the other its objects start out
from the unfolding picture, first dim and misty; then marked in, in solemn
background; next seen in the witchery of an increasing, a thing as
different as possible from the decreasing twilight, and finally mellow,
distinct and luminous, as the rays of the great centre of light diffuse
themselves in the atmosphere. The hymns of birds, too, have no moral
counterpart in the retreat to the roost, or the flight to the nest, and
these invariably accompany the advent of the day, until the appearance of
the sun itself—

“Bathes in deep joy, the land and sea.”

All this, however, Hutter and Hurry witnessed without experiencing any of
that calm delight which the spectacle is wont to bring, when the thoughts
are just and the aspirations pure. They not only witnessed it, but they
witnessed it under circumstances that had a tendency to increase its
power, and to heighten its charms. Only one solitary object became visible
in the returning light that had received its form or uses from human taste
or human desires, which as often deform as beautify a landscape. This was
the castle, all the rest being native, and fresh from the hand of God.
That singular residence, too, was in keeping with the natural objects of
the view, starting out from the gloom, quaint, picturesque and ornamental.
Nevertheless the whole was lost on the observers, who knew no feeling of
poetry, had lost their sense of natural devotion in lives of obdurate and
narrow selfishness, and had little other sympathy with nature, than that
which originated with her lowest wants.

As soon as the light was sufficiently strong to allow of a distinct view
of the lake, and more particularly of its shores, Hutter turned the head
of the Ark directly towards the castle, with the avowed intention of
taking possession, for the day at least, as the place most favorable for
meeting his daughters and for carrying on his operations against the
Indians. By this time, Chingachgook was up, and Hist was heard stirring
among the furniture of the kitchen. The place for which they steered was
distant only a mile, and the air was sufficiently favorable to permit it
to be reached by means of the sail. At this moment, too, to render the
appearances generally auspicious, the canoe of Judith was seen floating
northward in the broadest part of the lake; having actually passed the
scow in the darkness, in obedience to no other power than that of the
elements. Hutter got his glass, and took a long and anxious survey, to
ascertain if his daughters were in the light craft or not, and a slight
exclamation like that of joy escaped him, as he caught a glimpse of what
he rightly conceived to be a part of Judith’s dress above the top of the
canoe. At the next instant the girl arose and was seen gazing about her,
like one assuring herself of her situation. A minute later, Hetty was seen
on her knees in the other end of the canoe, repeating the prayers that had
been taught her in childhood by a misguided but repentant mother. As
Hutter laid down the glass, still drawn to its focus, the Serpent raised
it to his eye and turned it towards the canoe. It was the first time he
had ever used such an instrument, and Hist understood by his “Hugh!,” the
expression of his face, and his entire mien, that something wonderful had
excited his admiration. It is well known that the American Indians, more
particularly those of superior characters and stations, singularly
maintain their self-possession and stoicism, in the midst of the flood of
marvels that present themselves in their occasional visits to the abodes
of civilization, and Chingachgook had imbibed enough of this impassibility
to suppress any very undignified manifestation of surprise. With Hist,
however, no such law was binding, and when her lover managed to bring the
glass in a line with the canoe, and her eye was applied to the smaller
end, the girl started back in alarm; then she clapped her hands with
delight, and a laugh, the usual attendant of untutored admiration,
followed. A few minutes sufficed to enable this quick witted girl to
manage the instrument for herself, and she directed it at every prominent
object that struck her fancy. Finding a rest in one of the windows, she
and the Delaware first surveyed the lake; then the shores, the hills, and,
finally, the castle attracted their attention. After a long steady gaze at
the latter, Hist took away her eye, and spoke to her lover in a low,
earnest manner. Chingachgook immediately placed his eye to the glass, and
his look even exceeded that of his betrothed in length and intensity.
Again they spoke together, confidentially, appearing to compare opinions,
after which the glass was laid aside, and the young warrior quitted the
cabin to join Hutter and Hurry.

The Ark was slowly but steadily advancing, and the castle was materially
within half a mile, when Chingachgook joined the two white men in the
stern of the scow. His manner was calm, but it was evident to the others,
who were familiar with the habits of the Indians, that he had something to
communicate. Hurry was generally prompt to speak and, according to custom,
he took the lead on this occasion.

“Out with it, red-skin,” he cried, in his usual rough manner. “Have you
discovered a chipmunk in a tree, or is there a salmon-trout swimming under
the bottom of the scow? You find what a pale-face can do in the way of
eyes, now, Sarpent, and mustn’t wonder that they can see the land of the
Indians from afar off.”

“No good to go to Castle,” put in Chingachgook with emphasis, the moment
the other gave him an opportunity of speaking. “Huron there.”

“The devil he is!—If this should turn out to be true, Floating Tom,
a pretty trap were we about to pull down on our heads! Huron, there!—Well,
this may be so; but no signs can I see of any thing, near or about the old
hut, but logs, water, and bark—bating two or three windows, and one
door.”

Hutter called for the glass, and took a careful survey of the spot, before
he ventured an opinion, at all; then he somewhat cavalierly expressed his
dissent from that given by the Indian.

“You’ve got this glass wrong end foremost, Delaware,” continued Hurry.
“Neither the old man nor I can see any trail in the lake.”

“No trail—water make no trail,” said Hist, eagerly. “Stop boat—no
go too near. Huron there!”

“Ay, that’s it!—Stick to the same tale, and more people will believe
you. I hope, Sarpent, you and your gal will agree in telling the same
story arter marriage, as well as you do now. ‘Huron, there!’—Whereabouts
is he to be seen—in the padlock, or the chains, or the logs. There
isn’t a gaol in the colony that has a more lock up look about it, than old
Tom’s chiente, and I know something about gaols from exper’ence.”

“No see moccasin,” said Hist, impatiently “why no look—and see him.”

“Give me the glass, Harry,” interrupted Hutter, “and lower the sail. It is
seldom that an Indian woman meddles, and when she does, there is generally
a cause for it. There is, truly, a moccasin floating against one of the
piles, and it may or may not be a sign that the castle hasn’t escaped
visitors in our absence. Moccasins are no rarities, however, for I wear
’em myself; and Deerslayer wears ’em, and you wear ’em, March, and, for
that matter so does Hetty, quite as often as she wears shoes, though I
never yet saw Judith trust her pretty foot in a moccasin.”

Hurry had lowered the sail, and by this time the Ark was within two
hundred yards of the castle, setting in, nearer and nearer, each moment,
but at a rate too slow to excite any uneasiness. Each now took the glass
in turn, and the castle, and every thing near it, was subjected to a
scrutiny still more rigid than ever. There the moccasin lay, beyond a
question, floating so lightly, and preserving its form so well, that it
was scarcely wet. It had caught by a piece of the rough bark of one of the
piles, on the exterior of the water-palisade that formed the dock already
mentioned, which circumstance alone prevented it from drifting away before
the air. There were many modes, however, of accounting for the presence of
the moccasin, without supposing it to have been dropped by an enemy. It
might have fallen from the platform, even while Hutter was in possession
of the place, and drifted to the spot where it was now seen, remaining
unnoticed until detected by the acute vision of Hist. It might have
drifted from a distance, up or down the lake, and accidentally become
attached to the pile, or palisade. It might have been thrown from a
window, and alighted in that particular place; or it might certainly have
fallen from a scout, or an assailant, during the past night, who was
obliged to abandon it to the lake, in the deep obscurity which then
prevailed.

All these conjectures passed from Hutter to Hurry, the former appearing
disposed to regard the omen as a little sinister, while the latter treated
it with his usual reckless disdain. As for the Indian, he was of opinion
that the moccasin should be viewed as one would regard a trail in the
woods, which might, or might not, equally, prove to be threatening. Hist,
however, had something available to propose. She declared her readiness to
take a canoe, to proceed to the palisade and bring away the moccasin, when
its ornaments would show whether it came from the Canadas or not. Both the
white men were disposed to accept this offer, but the Delaware interfered
to prevent the risk. If such a service was to be undertaken, it best
became a warrior to expose himself in its execution, and he gave his
refusal to let his betrothed proceed, much in the quiet but brief manner
in which an Indian husband issues his commands.

“Well then, Delaware, go yourself if you’re so tender of your squaw,” put
in the unceremonious Hurry. “That moccasin must be had, or Floating Tom
will keep off, here, at arm’s length, till the hearth cools in his cabin.
It’s but a little deerskin, a’ter all, and cut this-a-way or that-a-way,
it’s not a skear-crow to frighten true hunters from their game. What say
you, Sarpent, shall you or I canoe it?”

“Let red man go.—Better eyes than pale-face—know Huron trick
better, too.”

“That I’ll gainsay, to the hour of my death! A white man’s eyes, and a
white man’s nose, and for that matter his sight and ears are all better
than an Injin’s when fairly tried. Time and ag’in have I put that to the
proof, and what is proved is sartain. Still I suppose the poorest vagabond
going, whether Delaware or Huron, can find his way to yonder hut and back
ag’in, and so, Sarpent, use your paddle and welcome.”

Chingachgook was already in the canoe, and he dipped the implement the
other named into the water, just as Hurry’s limber tongue ceased.
Wah-ta-Wah saw the departure of her warrior on this occasion with the
submissive silence of an Indian girl, but with most of the misgivings and
apprehensions of her sex. Throughout the whole of the past night, and down
to the moment, when they used the glass together in the hut, Chingachgook
had manifested as much manly tenderness towards his betrothed as one of
the most refined sentiment could have shown under similar circumstances,
but now every sign of weakness was lost in an appearance of stern
resolution. Although Hist timidly endeavored to catch his eye as the canoe
left the side of the Ark, the pride of a warrior would not permit him to
meet her fond and anxious looks. The canoe departed and not a wandering
glance rewarded her solicitude.

Nor were the Delaware’s care and gravity misplaced, under the impressions
with which he proceeded on this enterprise. If the enemy had really gained
possession of the building he was obliged to put himself under the very
muzzles of their rifles, as it were, and this too without the protection
of any of that cover which forms so essential an ally in Indian warfare.
It is scarcely possible to conceive of a service more dangerous, and had
the Serpent been fortified by the experience of ten more years, or had his
friend the Deerslayer been present, it would never have been attempted;
the advantages in no degree compensating for the risk. But the pride of an
Indian chief was acted on by the rivalry of colour, and it is not unlikely
that the presence of the very creature from whom his ideas of manhood
prevented his receiving a single glance, overflowing as he was with the
love she so well merited, had no small influence on his determination.

Chingachgook paddled steadily towards the palisades, keeping his eyes on
the different loops of the building. Each instant he expected to see the
muzzle of a rifle protruded, or to hear its sharp crack; but he succeeded
in reaching the piles in safety. Here he was, in a measure, protected,
having the heads of the palisades between him and the hut, and the chances
of any attempt on his life while thus covered, were greatly diminished.
The canoe had reached the piles with its head inclining northward, and at
a short distance from the moccasin. Instead of turning to pick up the
latter, the Delaware slowly made the circuit of the whole building,
deliberately examining every object that should betray the presence of
enemies, or the commission of violence. Not a single sign could he
discover, however, to confirm the suspicions that had been awakened. The
stillness of desertion pervaded the building; not a fastening was
displaced, not a window had been broken. The door looked as secure as at
the hour when it was closed by Hutter, and even the gate of the dock had
all the customary fastenings. In short, the most wary and jealous eye
could detect no other evidence of the visit of enemies, than that which
was connected with the appearance of the floating moccasin.

The Delaware was now greatly at a loss how to proceed. At one moment, as
he came round in front of the castle, he was on the point of stepping up
on the platform and of applying his eye to one of the loops, with a view
of taking a direct personal inspection of the state of things within; but
he hesitated. Though of little experience in such matters, himself, he had
heard so much of Indian artifices through traditions, had listened with
such breathless interest to the narration of the escapes of the elder
warriors, and, in short, was so well schooled in the theory of his
calling, that it was almost as impossible for him to make any gross
blunder on such an occasion, as it was for a well grounded scholar, who
had commenced correctly, to fail in solving his problem in mathematics.
Relinquishing the momentary intention to land, the chief slowly pursued
his course round the palisades. As he approached the moccasin, having now
nearly completed the circuit of the building, he threw the ominous article
into the canoe, by a dexterous and almost imperceptible movement of his
paddle. He was now ready to depart, but retreat was even more dangerous
than the approach, as the eye could no longer be riveted on the loops. If
there was really any one in the castle, the motive of the Delaware in
reconnoitering must be understood, and it was the wisest way, however
perilous it might be, to retire with an air of confidence, as if all
distrust were terminated by the examination. Such, accordingly, was the
course adopted by the Indian, who paddled deliberately away, taking the
direction of the Ark, suffering no nervous impulse to quicken the motions
of his arms, or to induce him to turn even a furtive glance behind him.

No tender wife, reared in the refinements of the highest civilization,
ever met a husband on his return from the field with more of sensibility
in her countenance than Hist discovered, as she saw the Great Serpent of
the Delawares step, unharmed, into the Ark. Still she repressed her
emotion, though the joy that sparkled in her dark eyes, and the smile that
lighted her pretty mouth, spoke a language that her betrothed could
understand.

“Well, Sarpent,” cried Hurry, always the first to speak, “what news from
the muskrats? Did they shew their teeth, as you surrounded their
dwelling?”

“I no like him,” sententiously returned the Delaware. “Too still. So
still, can see silence!”

“That’s downright Injin—as if any thing could make less noise than
nothing! If you’ve no better reason than this to give, old Tom had better
hoist his sail, and go and get his breakfast under his own roof. What has
become of the moccasin?”

“Here,” returned Chingachgook, holding up his prize for the general
inspection. The moccasin was examined, and Hist confidently pronounced it
to be Huron, by the manner in which the porcupine’s quills were arranged
on its front. Hutter and the Delaware, too, were decidedly of the same
opinion. Admitting all this, however, it did not necessarily follow that
its owners were in the castle. The moccasin might have drifted from a
distance, or it might have fallen from the foot of some scout, who had
quitted the place when his errand was accomplished. In short it explained
nothing, while it awakened so much distrust.

Under the circumstances, Hutter and Hurry were not men to be long deterred
from proceeding by proofs as slight as that of the moccasin. They hoisted
the sail again, and the Ark was soon in motion, heading towards the
castle. The wind or air continued light, and the movement was sufficiently
slow to allow of a deliberate survey of the building, as the scow
approached. The same death-like silence reigned, and it was difficult to
fancy that any thing possessing animal life could be in or around the
place. Unlike the Serpent, whose imagination had acted through his
traditions until he was ready to perceive an artificial, in a natural
stillness, the others saw nothing to apprehend in a tranquility that, in
truth, merely denoted the repose of inanimate objects. The accessories of
the scene, too, were soothing and calm, rather than exciting. The day had
not yet advanced so far as to bring the sun above the horizon, but the
heavens, the atmosphere, and the woods and lake were all seen under that
softened light which immediately precedes his appearance, and which
perhaps is the most witching period of the four and twenty hours. It is
the moment when every thing is distinct, even the atmosphere seeming to
possess a liquid lucidity, the hues appearing gray and softened, with the
outlines of objects defined, and the perspective just as moral truths that
are presented in their simplicity, without the meretricious aids of
ornament or glitter. In a word, it is the moment when the senses seem to
recover their powers, in the simplest and most accurate forms, like the
mind emerging from the obscurity of doubts into the tranquility and peace
of demonstration. Most of the influence that such a scene is apt to
produce on those who are properly constituted in a moral sense, was lost
on Hutter and Hurry; but both the Delawares, though too much accustomed to
witness the loveliness of morning-tide to stop to analyze their feelings,
were equally sensible of the beauties of the hour, though it was probably
in a way unknown to themselves. It disposed the young warrior to peace,
and never had he felt less longings for the glory of the combat, than when
he joined Hist in the cabin, the instant the scow rubbed against the side
of the platform. From the indulgence of such gentle emotions, however, he
was aroused by a rude summons from Hurry, who called on him to come forth
and help to take in the sail, and to secure the Ark.

Chingachgook obeyed, and by the time he had reached the head of the scow,
Hurry was on the platform, stamping his feet, like one glad to touch what,
by comparison, might be called terra firma, and proclaiming his
indifference to the whole Huron tribe in his customary noisy, dogmatical
manner. Hutter had hauled a canoe up to the head of the scow, and was
already about to undo the fastenings of the gate, in order to enter within
the ‘dock.’ March had no other motive in landing than a senseless bravado,
and having shaken the door in a manner to put its solidity to the proof,
he joined Hutter in the canoe and began to aid him in opening the gate.
The reader will remember that this mode of entrance was rendered necessary
by the manner in which the owner of this singular residence habitually
secured it, whenever it was left empty; more particularly at moments when
danger was apprehended. Hutter had placed a line in the Delaware’s hand,
on entering the canoe, intimating that the other was to fasten the Ark to
the platform and to lower the sail. Instead of following these directions,
however, Chingachgook left the sail standing, and throwing the bight of
the rope over the head of a pile, he permitted the Ark to drift round
until it lay against the defences, in a position where it could be entered
only by means of a boat, or by passing along the summits of the palisades;
the latter being an exploit that required some command of the feet, and
which was not to be attempted in the face of a resolute enemy.

In consequence of this change in the position of the scow, which was
effected before Hutter had succeeded in opening the gate of his dock, the
Ark and the Castle lay, as sailors would express it, yard-arm and
yard-arm, kept asunder some ten or twelve feet by means of the piles. As
the scow pressed close against the latter, their tops formed a species of
breast work that rose to the height of a man’s head, covering in a certain
degree the parts of the scow that were not protected by the cabin. The
Delaware surveyed this arrangement with great satisfaction and, as the
canoe of Hutter passed through the gate into the dock, he thought that he
might defend his position against any garrison in the castle, for a
sufficient time, could he but have had the helping arm of his friend
Deerslayer. As it was, he felt comparatively secure, and no longer
suffered the keen apprehensions he had lately experienced in behalf of
Hist.

A single shove sent the canoe from the gate to the trap beneath the
castle. Here Hutter found all fast, neither padlock nor chain nor bar
having been molested. The key was produced, the locks removed, the chain
loosened, and the trap pushed upward. Hurry now thrust his head in at the
opening; the arms followed, and the colossal legs rose without any
apparent effort. At the next instant, his heavy foot was heard stamping in
the passage above; that which separated the chambers of the father and
daughters, and into which the trap opened. He then gave a shout of
triumph.

“Come on, old Tom,” the reckless woodsman called out from within the
building—“here’s your tenement, safe and sound; ay, and as empty as
a nut that has passed half an hour in the paws of a squirrel! The Delaware
brags of being able to see silence; let him come here, and he may feel it,
in the bargain.”

“Any silence where you are, Hurry Harry,” returned Hutter, thrusting his
head in at the hole as he uttered the last word, which instantly caused
his voice to sound smothered to those without—“Any silence where you
are, ought to be both seen and felt, for it’s unlike any other silence.”

“Come, come, old fellow; hoist yourself up, and we’ll open doors and
windows and let in the fresh air to brighten up matters. Few words in
troublesome times, make men the best fri’nds. Your darter Judith is what I
call a misbehaving young woman, and the hold of the whole family on me is
so much weakened by her late conduct, that it wouldn’t take a speech as
long as the ten commandments to send me off to the river, leaving you and
your traps, your Ark and your children, your man servants and your maid
servants, your oxen and your asses, to fight this battle with the Iroquois
by yourselves. Open that window, Floating Tom, and I’ll blunder through
and do the same job to the front door.”

A moment of silence succeeded, and a noise like that produced by the fall
of a heavy body followed. A deep execration from Hurry succeeded, and then
the whole interior of the building seemed alive. The noises that now so
suddenly, and we may add so unexpectedly even to the Delaware, broke the
stillness within, could not be mistaken. They resembled those that would
be produced by a struggle between tigers in a cage. Once or twice the
Indian yell was given, but it seemed smothered, and as if it proceeded
from exhausted or compressed throats, and, in a single instance, a deep
and another shockingly revolting execration came from the throat of Hurry.
It appeared as if bodies were constantly thrown upon the floor with
violence, as often rising to renew the struggle. Chingachgook felt greatly
at a loss what to do. He had all the arms in the Ark, Hutter and Hurry
having proceeded without their rifles, but there was no means of using
them, or of passing them to the hands of their owners. The combatants were
literally caged, rendering it almost as impossible under the circumstances
to get out, as to get into the building. Then there was Hist to embarrass
his movements, and to cripple his efforts. With a view to relieve himself
from this disadvantage, he told the girl to take the remaining canoe and
to join Hutter’s daughters, who were incautiously but deliberately
approaching, in order to save herself, and to warn the others of their
danger. But the girl positively and firmly refused to comply. At that
moment no human power, short of an exercise of superior physical force,
could have induced her to quit the Ark. The exigency of the moment did not
admit of delay, and the Delaware seeing no possibility of serving his
friends, cut the line and by a strong shove forced the scow some twenty
feet clear of the piles. Here he took the sweeps and succeeded in getting
a short distance to windward, if any direction could be thus termed in so
light an air, but neither the time, nor his skill at the oars, allowed the
distance to be great. When he ceased rowing, the Ark might have been a
hundred yards from the platform, and half that distance to the southward
of it, the sail being lowered. Judith and Hetty had now discovered that
something was wrong, and were stationary a thousand feet farther north.

All this while the furious struggle continued within the house. In scenes
like these, events thicken in less time than they can be related. From the
moment when the first fall was heard within the building to that when the
Delaware ceased his awkward attempts to row, it might have been three or
four minutes, but it had evidently served to weaken the combatants. The
oaths and execrations of Hurry were no longer heard, and even the
struggles had lost some of their force and fury. Nevertheless they still
continued with unabated perseverance. At this instant the door flew open,
and the fight was transferred to the platform, the light and the open air.
A Huron had undone the fastenings of the door, and three or four of his
tribe rushed after him upon the narrow space, as if glad to escape from
some terrible scene within. The body of another followed, pitched headlong
through the door with terrific violence. Then March appeared, raging like
a lion at bay, and for an instant freed from his numerous enemies. Hutter
was already a captive and bound. There was now a pause in the struggle,
which resembled a lull in a tempest. The necessity of breathing was common
to all, and the combatants stood watching each other, like mastiffs that
have been driven from their holds, and are waiting for a favorable
opportunity of renewing them. We shall profit by this pause to relate the
manner in which the Indians had obtained possession of the castle, and
this the more willingly because it may be necessary to explain to the
reader why a conflict which had been so close and fierce, should have also
been so comparatively bloodless.

Rivenoak and his companion, particularly the latter who had appeared to be
a subordinate and occupied solely with his raft, had made the closest
observations in their visits to the castle. Even the boy had brought away
minute and valuable information. By these means the Hurons obtained a
general idea of the manner in which the place was constructed and secured,
as well as of details that enabled them to act intelligently in the dark.
Notwithstanding the care that Hutter had taken to drop the Ark on the east
side of the building when he was in the act of transferring the furniture
from the former to the latter, he had been watched in a way to render the
precaution useless. Scouts were on the look-out on the eastern as well as
on the western shore of the lake, and the whole proceeding had been noted.
As soon as it was dark, rafts like that already described approached from
both shores to reconnoitre, and the Ark had passed within fifty feet of
one of them without its being discovered; the men it held lying at their
length on the logs, so as to blend themselves and their slow moving
machine with the water. When these two sets of adventurers drew near the
castle they encountered each other, and after communicating their
respective observations, they unhesitatingly approached the building. As
had been expected, it was found empty. The rafts were immediately sent for
a reinforcement to the shore, and two of the savages remained to profit by
their situation. These men succeeded in getting on the roof, and by
removing some of the bark, in entering what might be termed the garret.
Here they were found by their companions. Hatchets now opened a hole
through the squared logs of the upper floor, through which no less than
eight of the most athletic of the Indians dropped into the rooms beneath.
Here they were left, well supplied with arms and provisions, either to
stand a siege, or to make a sortie, as the case might require. The night
was passed in sleep, as is usual with Indians in a state of inactivity.
The returning day brought them a view of the approach of the Ark through
the loops, the only manner in which light and air were now admitted, the
windows being closed most effectually with plank, rudely fashioned to fit.
As soon as it was ascertained that the two white men were about to enter
by the trap, the chief who directed the proceedings of the Hurons took his
measures accordingly. He removed all the arms from his own people, even to
the knives, in distrust of savage ferocity when awakened by personal
injuries, and he hid them where they could not be found without a search.
Ropes of bark were then prepared, and taking their stations in the three
different rooms, they all waited for the signal to fall upon their
intended captives. As soon as the party had entered the building, men
without replaced the bark of the roof, removed every sign of their visit,
with care, and then departed for the shore. It was one of these who had
dropped his moccasin, which he had not been able to find again in the
dark. Had the death of the girl been known, it is probable nothing could
have saved the lives of Hurry and Hutter, but that event occurred after
the ambush was laid, and at a distance of several miles from the
encampment near the castle. Such were the means that had been employed to
produce the state of things we shall continue to describe.


Chapter XX

The last chapter we left the combatants breathing in their narrow lists.
Accustomed to the rude sports of wrestling and jumping, then so common in
America, more especially on the frontiers, Hurry possessed an advantage,
in addition to his prodigious strength, that had rendered the struggle
less unequal than it might otherwise appear to be. This alone had enabled
him to hold out so long, against so many enemies, for the Indian is by no
means remarkable for his skill, or force, in athletic exercises. As yet,
no one had been seriously hurt, though several of the savages had received
severe falls, and he, in particular, who had been thrown bodily upon the
platform, might be said to be temporarily hors de combat. Some of the rest
were limping, and March himself had not entirely escaped from bruises,
though want of breath was the principal loss that both sides wished to
repair.

Under circumstances like those in which the parties were placed, a truce,
let it come from what cause it might, could not well be of long
continuance. The arena was too confined, and the distrust of treachery too
great, to admit of this. Contrary to what might be expected in his
situation, Hurry was the first to recommence hostilities. Whether this
proceeded from policy, an idea that he might gain some advantage by making
a sudden and unexpected assault, or was the fruit of irritation and his
undying hatred of an Indian, it is impossible to say. His onset was
furious, however, and at first it carried all before it. He seized the
nearest Huron by the waist, raised him entirely from the platform, and
hurled him into the water, as if he had been a child. In half a minute,
two more were at his side, one of whom received a grave injury by the
friend who had just preceded him. But four enemies remained, and, in a
hand to hand conflict, in which no arms were used but those which nature
had furnished, Hurry believed himself fully able to cope with that number
of red-skins.

“Hurrah! Old Tom,” he shouted—“The rascals are taking to the lake,
and I’ll soon have ’em all swimming!” As these words were uttered a
violent kick in the face sent back the injured Indian, who had caught at
the edge of the platform, and was endeavoring to raise himself to its
level, helplessly and hopelessly into the water. When the affray was over,
his dark body was seen, through the limpid element of the Glimmerglass,
lying, with outstretched arms, extended on the bottom of the shoal on
which the Castle stood, clinging to the sands and weeds, as if life were
to be retained by this frenzied grasp of death. A blow sent into the pit
of another’s stomach doubled him up like a worm that had been trodden on,
and but two able bodied foes remained to be dealt with. One of these,
however, was not only the largest and strongest of the Hurons, but he was
also the most experienced of their warriors present, and that one whose
sinews were the best strung in fights, and by marches on the warpath. This
man fully appreciated the gigantic strength of his opponent, and had
carefully husbanded his own. He was also equipped in the best manner for
such a conflict, standing in nothing but his breech-cloth, the model of a
naked and beautiful statue of agility and strength. To grasp him required
additional dexterity and unusual force. Still Hurry did not hesitate, but
the kick that had actually destroyed one fellow creature was no sooner
given, than he closed in with this formidable antagonist, endeavoring to
force him into the water, also. The struggle that succeeded was truly
frightful. So fierce did it immediately become, and so quick and changeful
were the evolutions of the athletes, that the remaining savage had no
chance for interfering, had he possessed the desire; but wonder and
apprehension held him spell bound. He was an inexperienced youth, and his
blood curdled as he witnessed the fell strife of human passions, exhibited
too, in an unaccustomed form.

Hurry first attempted to throw his antagonist. With this view he seized
him by the throat, and an arm, and tripped with the quickness and force of
an American borderer. The effect was frustrated by the agile movements of
the Huron, who had clothes to grasp by, and whose feet avoided the attempt
with a nimbleness equal to that with which it was made. Then followed a
sort of melee, if such a term can be applied to a struggle between two in
which no efforts were strictly visible, the limbs and bodies of the
combatants assuming so many attitudes and contortions as to defeat
observation. This confused but fierce rally lasted less than a minute,
however; when, Hurry, furious at having his strength baffled by the
agility and nakedness of his foe, made a desperate effort, which sent the
Huron from him, hurling his body violently against the logs of the hut.
The concussion was so great as momentarily to confuse the latter’s
faculties. The pain, too, extorted a deep groan; an unusual concession to
agony to escape a red man in the heat of battle. Still he rushed forward
again to meet his enemy, conscious that his safety rested on it’s
resolution. Hurry now seized the other by the waist, raised him bodily
from the platform, and fell with his own great weight on the form beneath.
This additional shock so stunned the sufferer, that his gigantic white
opponent now had him completely at his mercy. Passing his hands around the
throat of his victim, he compressed them with the strength of a vice,
fairly doubling the head of the Huron over the edge of the platform, until
the chin was uppermost, with the infernal strength he expended. An instant
sufficed to show the consequences. The eyes of the sufferer seemed to
start forward, his tongue protruded, and his nostrils dilated nearly to
splitting. At this instant a rope of bark, having an eye, was passed
dexterously within the two arms of Hurry, the end threaded the eye,
forming a noose, and his elbows were drawn together behind his back, with
a power that all his gigantic strength could not resist. Reluctantly, even
under such circumstances, did the exasperated borderer see his hands drawn
from their deadly grasp, for all the evil passions were then in the
ascendant. Almost at the same instant a similar fastening secured his
ankles, and his body was rolled to the centre of the platform as
helplessly, and as cavalierly, as if it were a log of wood. His rescued
antagonist, however, did not rise, for while he began again to breathe,
his head still hung helplessly over the edge of the logs, and it was
thought at first that his neck was dislocated. He recovered gradually
only, and it was hours before he could walk. Some fancied that neither his
body, nor his mind, ever totally recovered from this near approach to
death.

Hurry owed his defeat and capture to the intensity with which he had
concentrated all his powers on his fallen foe. While thus occupied, the
two Indians he had hurled into the water mounted to the heads of the
piles, along which they passed, and joined their companion on the
platform. The latter had so far rallied his faculties as to have gotten
the ropes, which were in readiness for use as the others appeared, and
they were applied in the manner related, as Hurry lay pressing his enemy
down with his whole weight, intent only on the horrible office of
strangling him. Thus were the tables turned, in a single moment; he who
had been so near achieving a victory that would have been renowned for
ages, by means of traditions, throughout all that region, lying helpless,
bound and a captive. So fearful had been the efforts of the pale-face, and
so prodigious the strength he exhibited, that even as he lay tethered like
a sheep before them, they regarded him with respect, and not without
dread. The helpless body of their stoutest warrior was still stretched on
the platform, and, as they cast their eyes towards the lake, in quest of
the comrade that had been hurled into it so unceremoniously, and of whom
they had lost sight in the confusion of the fray, they perceived his
lifeless form clinging to the grass on the bottom, as already described.
These several circumstances contributed to render the victory of the
Hurons almost as astounding to themselves as a defeat.

Chingachgook and his betrothed witnessed the whole of this struggle from
the Ark. When the three Hurons were about to pass the cords around the
arms of the prostrate Hurry the Delaware sought his rifle, but, before he
could use it the white man was bound and the mischief was done. He might
still bring down an enemy, but to obtain the scalp was impossible, and the
young chief, who would so freely risk his own life to obtain such a
trophy, hesitated about taking that of a foe without such an object in
view. A glance at Hist, and the recollection of what might follow, checked
any transient wish for revenge. The reader has been told that Chingachgook
could scarcely be said to know how to manage the oars of the Ark at all,
however expert he might be in the use of the paddle. Perhaps there is no
manual labor at which men are so bungling and awkward, as in their first
attempts to pull oar, even the experienced mariner, or boat man, breaking
down in his efforts to figure with the celebrated rullock of the
gondolier. In short it is, temporarily, an impracticable thing for a new
beginner to succeed with a single oar, but in this case it was necessary
to handle two at the same time, and those of great size. Sweeps, or large
oars, however, are sooner rendered of use by the raw hand than lighter
implements, and this was the reason that the Delaware had succeeded in
moving the Ark as well as he did in a first trial. That trial,
notwithstanding, sufficed to produce distrust, and he was fully aware of
the critical situation in which Hist and himself were now placed, should
the Hurons take to the canoe that was still lying beneath the trap, and
come against them. At the moment he thought of putting Hist into the canoe
in his own possession, and of taking to the eastern mountain in the hope
of reaching the Delaware villages by direct flight. But many
considerations suggested themselves to put a stop to this indiscreet step.
It was almost certain that scouts watched the lake on both sides, and no
canoe could possibly approach shore without being seen from the hills.
Then a trail could not be concealed from Indian eyes, and the strength of
Hist was unequal to a flight sufficiently sustained to outstrip the
pursuit of trained warriors. This was a part of America in which the
Indians did not know the use of horses, and everything would depend on the
physical energies of the fugitives. Last, but far from being least, were
the thoughts connected with the situation of Deerslayer, a friend who was
not to be deserted in his extremity.

Hist in some particulars reasoned, and even felt, differently though she
arrived at the same conclusions. Her own anger disturbed her less than her
concern for the two sisters, on whose behalf her womanly sympathies were
now strongly enlisted. The canoe of the girls, by the time the struggle on
the platform had ceased, was within three hundred yards of the castle, and
here Judith ceased paddling, the evidences of strife first becoming
apparent to the eyes. She and Hetty were standing erect, anxiously
endeavoring to ascertain what had occurred, but unable to satisfy their
doubts from the circumstance that the building, in a great measure,
concealed the scene of action.

The parties in the Ark, and in the canoe, were indebted to the ferocity of
Hurry’s attack for their momentary security. In any ordinary case, the
girls would have been immediately captured, a measure easy of execution
now the savages had a canoe, were it not for the rude check the audacity
of the Hurons had received in the recent struggle. It required some little
time to recover from the effects of this violent scene, and this so much
the more, because the principal man of the party, in the way of personal
prowess at least, had been so great a sufferer. Still it was of the last
importance that Judith and her sister should seek immediate refuge in the
Ark, where the defences offered a temporary shelter at least, and the
first step was to devise the means of inducing them to do so. Hist showed
herself in the stern of the scow, and made many gestures and signs, in
vain, in order to induce the girls to make a circuit to avoid the Castle,
and to approach the Ark from the eastward. But these signs were distrusted
or misunderstood. It is probable Judith was not yet sufficiently aware of
the real state of things to put full confidence in either party. Instead
of doing as desired, she rather kept more aloof, paddling slowly back to
the north, or into the broadest part of the lake, where she could command
the widest view, and had the fairest field for flight before her. At this
instant the sun appeared above the pines of the eastern range of mountains
and a light southerly breeze arose, as was usual enough at that season and
hour. Chingachgook lost no time in hoisting the sail. Whatever might be in
reserve for him, there could be no question that it was every way
desirable to get the Ark at such a distance from the castle as to reduce
his enemies to the necessity of approaching the former in the canoe, which
the chances of war had so inopportunely, for his wishes and security,
thrown into their hands. The appearance of the opening duck seemed first
to arouse the Hurons from their apathy, and by the time the head of the
scow had fallen off before the wind, which it did unfortunately in the
wrong direction, bringing it within a few yards of the platform, Hist
found it necessary to warn her lover of the importance of covering his
person against the rifles of his foes. This was a danger to be avoided
under all circumstances, and so much the more, because the Delaware found
that Hist would not take to the cover herself so long as he remained
exposed. Accordingly, Chingachgook abandoned the scow to its own
movements, forced Hist into the cabin, the doors of which he immediately
secured, and then he looked about him for the rifles. The situation of the
parties was now so singular as to merit a particular description. The Ark
was within sixty yards of the castle, a little to the southward, or to
windward of it, with its sail full, and the steering oar abandoned. The
latter, fortunately, was loose, so that it produced no great influence on
the crab like movements of the unwieldy craft. The sail being as sailors
term it, flying, or having no braces, the air forced the yard forward,
though both sheets were fast. The effect was threefold on a boat with a
bottom that was perfectly flat, and which drew merely some three or four
inches water. It pressed the head slowly round to leeward, it forced the
whole fabric bodily in the same direction at the same time, and the water
that unavoidably gathered under the lee gave the scow also a forward
movement. All these changes were exceedingly slow, however, for the wind
was not only light, but it was baffling as usual, and twice or thrice the
sail shook. Once it was absolutely taken aback.

Had there been any keel to the Ark, it would inevitably have run foul of
the platform, bows on, when it is probable nothing could have prevented
the Hurons from carrying it; more particularly as the sail would have
enabled them to approach under cover. As it was, the scow wore slowly
round, barely clearing that part of the building. The piles projecting
several feet, they were not cleared, but the head of the slow moving craft
caught between two of them, by one of its square corners, and hung. At
this moment the Delaware was vigilantly watching through a loop for an
opportunity to fire, while the Hurons kept within the building, similarly
occupied. The exhausted warrior reclined against the hut, there having
been no time to remove him, and Hurry lay, almost as helpless as a log,
tethered like a sheep on its way to the slaughter, near the middle of the
platform. Chingachgook could have slain the first, at any moment, but his
scalp would have been safe, and the young chief disdained to strike a blow
that could lead to neither honor nor advantage.

“Run out one of the poles, Sarpent, if Sarpent you be,” said Hurry, amid
the groans that the tightness of the ligatures was beginning to extort
from him—“run out one of the poles, and shove the head of the scow
off, and you’ll drift clear of us—and, when you’ve done that good
turn for yourself just finish this gagging blackguard for me.”

The appeal of Hurry, however, had no other effect than to draw the
attention of Hist to his situation. This quick witted creature
comprehended it at a glance. His ankles were bound with several turns of
stout bark rope, and his arms, above the elbows, were similarly secured
behind his back; barely leaving him a little play of the hands and wrists.
Putting her mouth near a loop she said in a low but distinct voice—“Why
you don’t roll here, and fall in scow? Chingachgook shoot Huron, if he
chase!”

“By the Lord, gal, that’s a judgematical thought, and it shall be tried,
if the starn of your scow will come a little nearer. Put a bed at the
bottom, for me to fall on.”

This was said at a happy moment, for, tired of waiting, all the Indians
made a rapid discharge of their rifles, almost simultaneously, injuring no
one; though several bullets passed through the loops. Hist had heard part
of Hurry’s words, but most of what he said was lost in the sharp reports
of the firearms. She undid the bar of the door that led to the stern of
the scow, but did not dare to expose her person. All this time, the head
of the Ark hung, but by a gradually decreasing hold as the other end swung
slowly round, nearer and nearer to the platform. Hurry, who now lay with
his face towards the Ark, occasionally writhing and turning over like one
in pain, evolutions he had performed ever since he was secured, watched
every change, and, at last, he saw that the whole vessel was free, and was
beginning to grate slowly along the sides of the piles. The attempt was
desperate, but it seemed to be the only chance for escaping torture and
death, and it suited the reckless daring of the man’s character. Waiting
to the last moment, in order that the stern of the scow might fairly rub
against the platform, he began to writhe again, as if in intolerable
suffering, execrating all Indians in general, and the Hurons in
particular, and then he suddenly and rapidly rolled over and over, taking
the direction of the stern of the scow. Unfortunately, Hurry’s shoulders
required more space to revolve in than his feet, and by the time he
reached the edge of the platform his direction had so far changed as to
carry him clear of the Ark altogether, and the rapidity of his revolutions
and the emergency admitting of no delay, he fell into the water. At this
instant, Chingachgook, by an understanding with his betrothed, drew the
fire of the Hurons again, not a man of whom saw the manner in which one
whom they knew to be effectually tethered, had disappeared. But Hist’s
feelings were strongly interested in the success of so bold a scheme, and
she watched the movements of Hurry as the cat watches the mouse. The
moment he was in motion she foresaw the consequences, and this the more
readily, as the scow was now beginning to move with some steadiness, and
she bethought her of the means of saving him. With a sort of instinctive
readiness, she opened the door at the very moment the rifles were ringing
in her ears, and protected by the intervening cabin, she stepped into the
stem of the scow in time to witness the fall of Hurry into the lake. Her
foot was unconsciously placed on the end of one of the sheets of the sail,
which was fastened aft, and catching up all the spare rope with the
awkwardness, but also with the generous resolution of a woman, she threw
it in the direction of the helpless Hurry. The line fell on the head and
body of the sinking man and he not only succeeded in grasping separate
parts of it with his hands, but he actually got a portion of it between
his teeth. Hurry was an expert swimmer, and tethered as he was he resorted
to the very expedient that philosophy and reflection would have suggested.
He had fallen on his back, and instead of floundering and drowning himself
by desperate efforts to walk on the water, he permitted his body to sink
as low as possible, and was already submerged, with the exception of his
face, when the line reached him. In this situation he might possibly have
remained until rescued by the Hurons, using his hands as fishes use their
fins, had he received no other succour, but the movement of the Ark soon
tightened the rope, and of course he was dragged gently ahead holding even
pace with the scow. The motion aided in keeping his face above the surface
of the water, and it would have been possible for one accustomed to
endurance to have been towed a mile in this singular but simple manner.

It has been said that the Hurons did not observe the sudden disappearance
of Hurry. In his present situation he was not only hid from view by the
platform, but, as the Ark drew slowly ahead, impelled by a sail that was
now filled, he received the same friendly service from the piles. The
Hurons, indeed, were too intent on endeavoring to slay their Delaware foe,
by sending a bullet through some one of the loops or crevices of the
cabin, to bethink them at all of one whom they fancied so thoroughly tied.
Their great concern was the manner in which the Ark rubbed past the piles,
although its motion was lessened at least one half by the friction, and
they passed into the northern end of the castle in order to catch
opportunities of firing through the loops of that part of the building.
Chingachgook was similarly occupied, and remained as ignorant as his
enemies of the situation of Hurry. As the Ark grated along the rifles sent
their little clouds of smoke from one cover to the other, but the eyes and
movements of the opposing parties were too quick to permit any injury to
be done. At length one side had the mortification and the other the
pleasure of seeing the scow swing clear of the piles altogether, when it
immediately moved away, with a materially accelerated motion, towards the
north.

Chingachgook now first learned from Hist the critical condition of Hurry.
To have exposed either of their persons in the stern of the scow would
have been certain death, but fortunately the sheet to which the man clung
led forward to the foot of the sail. The Delaware found means to unloosen
it from the cleet aft, and Hist, who was already forward for that purpose,
immediately began to pull upon the line. At this moment Hurry was towing
fifty or sixty feet astern, with nothing but his face above water. As he
was dragged out clear of the castle and the piles he was first perceived
by the Hurons, who raised a hideous yell and commenced a fire on, what may
very well be termed the floating mass. It was at the same instant that
Hist began to pull upon the line forward—a circumstance that
probably saved Hurry’s life, aided by his own self-possession and border
readiness. The first bullet struck the water directly on the spot where
the broad chest of the young giant was visible through the pure element,
and might have pierced his heart had the angle at which it was fired been
less acute. Instead of penetrating the lake, however, it glanced from its
smooth surface, rose, and buried itself in the logs of the cabin near the
spot at which Chingachgook had shown himself the minute before, while
clearing the line from the cleet. A second, and a third, and a fourth
bullet followed, all meeting with the same resistance of the water, though
Hurry sensibly felt the violence of the blows they struck upon the lake so
immediately above, and so near his breast. Discovering their mistake, the
Hurons now changed their plan, and aimed at the uncovered face; but by
this time Hist was pulling on the line, the target advanced and the deadly
missiles still fell upon the water. In another moment the body was dragged
past the end of the scow and became concealed. As for the Delaware and
Hist, they worked perfectly covered by the cabin, and in less time than it
requires to tell it, they had hauled the huge frame of Harry to the place
they occupied. Chingachgook stood in readiness with his keen knife, and
bending over the side of the scow he soon severed the bark that bound the
limbs of the borderer. To raise him high enough to reach the edge of the
boat and to aid him in entering were less easy, as Hurry’s arms were still
nearly useless, but both were done in time, when the liberated man
staggered forward and fell exhausted and helpless into the bottom of the
scow. Here we shall leave him to recover his strength and the due
circulation of his blood, while we proceed with the narrative of events
that crowd upon us too fast to admit of any postponement. The moment the
Hurons lost sight of the body of Hurry they gave a common yell of
disappointment, and three of the most active of their number ran to the
trap and entered the canoe. It required some little delay, however, to
embark with their weapons, to find the paddles and, if we may use a phrase
so purely technical, “to get out of dock.” By this time Hurry was in the
scow, and the Delaware had his rifles again in readiness. As the Ark
necessarily sailed before the wind, it had got by this time quite two
hundred yards from the castle, and was sliding away each instant, farther
and farther, though with a motion so easy as scarcely to stir the water.
The canoe of the girls was quite a quarter of a mile distant from the Ark,
obviously keeping aloof, in ignorance of what had occurred, and in
apprehension of the consequences of venturing too near. They had taken the
direction of the eastern shore, endeavoring at the same time to get to
windward of the Ark, and in a manner between the two parties, as if
distrusting which was to be considered a friend, and which an enemy. The
girls, from long habit, used the paddles with great dexterity, and Judith,
in particular, had often sportively gained races, in trials of speed with
the youths that occasionally visited the lake.

When the three Hurons emerged from behind the palisades, and found
themselves on the open lake, and under the necessity of advancing
unprotected on the Ark, if they persevered in the original design, their
ardor sensibly cooled. In a bark canoe they were totally without cover,
and Indian discretion was entirely opposed to such a sacrifice of life as
would most probably follow any attempt to assault an enemy entrenched as
effectually as the Delaware. Instead of following the Ark, therefore,
these three warriors inclined towards the eastern shore, keeping at a safe
distance from the rifles of Chingachgook. But this manoeuvre rendered the
position of the girls exceedingly critical. It threatened to place them if
not between two fires, at least between two dangers, or what they
conceived to be dangers, and instead of permitting the Hurons to enclose
her, in what she fancied a sort of net, Judith immediately commenced her
retreat in a southern direction, at no very great distance from the shore.
She did not dare to land; if such an expedient were to be resorted to at
all, she could only venture on it in the last extremity. At first the
Indians paid little or no attention to the other canoe, for, fully
apprised of its contents, they deemed its capture of comparatively little
moment, while the Ark, with its imaginary treasures, the persons of the
Delaware and of Hurry, and its means of movement on a large scale, was
before them. But this Ark had its dangers as well as its temptations, and
after wasting near an hour in vacillating evolutions, always at a safe
distance from the rifle, the Hurons seemed suddenly to take their
resolution, and began to display it by giving eager chase to the girls.

When this last design was adopted, the circumstances of all parties, as
connected with their relative positions, were materially changed. The Ark
had sailed and drifted quite half a mile, and was nearly that distance due
north of the castle. As soon as the Delaware perceived that the girls
avoided him, unable to manage his unwieldy craft, and knowing that flight
from a bark canoe, in the event of pursuit, would be a useless expedient
if attempted, he had lowered his sail, in the hope it might induce the
sisters to change their plan and to seek refuge in the scow. This
demonstration produced no other effect than to keep the Ark nearer to the
scene of action, and to enable those in her to become witnesses of the
chase. The canoe of Judith was about a quarter of a mile south of that of
the Hurons, a little nearer to the east shore, and about the same distance
to the southward of the castle as it was from the hostile canoe, a
circumstance which necessarily put the last nearly abreast of Hutter’s
fortress. With the several parties thus situated the chase commenced.

At the moment when the Hurons so suddenly changed their mode of attack
their canoe was not in the best possible racing trim. There were but two
paddles, and the third man so much extra and useless cargo. Then the
difference in weight between the sisters and the other two men, more
especially in vessels so extremely light, almost neutralized any
difference that might proceed from the greater strength of the Hurons, and
rendered the trial of speed far from being as unequal as it might seem.
Judith did not commence her exertions until the near approach of the other
canoe rendered the object of the movement certain, and then she exhorted
Hetty to aid her with her utmost skill and strength.

“Why should we run, Judith?” asked the simple minded girl. “The Hurons
have never harmed me, nor do I think they ever will.”

“That may be true as to you, Hetty, but it will prove very different with
me. Kneel down and say your prayer, and then rise and do your utmost to
help escape. Think of me, dear girl, too, as you pray.”

Judith gave these directions from a mixed feeling; first because she knew
that her sister ever sought the support of her great ally in trouble, and
next because a sensation of feebleness and dependance suddenly came over
her own proud spirit, in that moment of apparent desertion and trial. The
prayer was quickly said, however, and the canoe was soon in rapid motion.
Still, neither party resorted to their greatest exertions from the outset,
both knowing that the chase was likely to be arduous and long. Like two
vessels of war that are preparing for an encounter, they seemed desirous
of first ascertaining their respective rates of speed, in order that they
might know how to graduate their exertions, previously to the great
effort. A few minutes sufficed to show the Hurons that the girls were
expert, and that it would require all their skill and energies to overtake
them.

Judith had inclined towards the eastern shore at the commencement of the
chase, with a vague determination of landing and flying to the woods as a
last resort, but as she approached the land, the certainty that scouts
must be watching her movements made her reluctance to adopt such an
expedient unconquerable. Then she was still fresh, and had sanguine hopes
of being able to tire out her pursuers. With such feelings she gave a
sweep with her paddle, and sheered off from the fringe of dark hemlocks
beneath the shades of which she was so near entering, and held her way
again, more towards the centre of the lake. This seemed the instant
favorable for the Hurons to make their push, as it gave them the entire
breadth of the sheet to do it in; and this too in the widest part, as soon
as they had got between the fugitives and the land. The canoes now flew,
Judith making up for what she wanted in strength by her great dexterity
and self command. For half a mile the Indians gained no material
advantage, but the continuance of so great exertions for so many minutes
sensibly affected all concerned. Here the Indians resorted to an expedient
that enabled them to give one of their party time to breathe, by shifting
their paddles from hand to hand, and this too without sensibly relaxing
their efforts.

Judith occasionally looked behind her, and she saw this expedient
practised. It caused her immediately to distrust the result, since her
powers of endurance were not likely to hold out against those of men who
had the means of relieving each other. Still she persevered, allowing no
very visible consequences immediately to follow the change.

As yet the Indians had not been able to get nearer to the girls than two
hundred yards, though they were what seamen would term “in their wake”; or
in a direct line behind them, passing over the same track of water. This
made the pursuit what is technically called a “stern chase”, which is
proverbially a “long chase”: the meaning of which is that, in consequence
of the relative positions of the parties, no change becomes apparent
except that which is a direct gain in the nearest possible approach.
“Long” as this species of chase is admitted to be, however, Judith was
enabled to perceive that the Hurons were sensibly drawing nearer and
nearer, before she had gained the centre of the lake. She was not a girl
to despair, but there was an instant when she thought of yielding, with
the wish of being carried to the camp where she knew the Deerslayer to be
a captive; but the considerations connected with the means she hoped to be
able to employ in order to procure his release immediately interposed, in
order to stimulate her to renewed exertions. Had there been any one there
to note the progress of the two canoes, he would have seen that of Judith
flying swiftly away from its pursuers, as the girl gave it freshly
impelled speed, while her mind was thus dwelling on her own ardent and
generous schemes. So material, indeed, was the difference in the rate of
going between the two canoes for the next five minutes, that the Hurons
began to be convinced all their powers must be exerted or they would
suffer the disgrace of being baffled by women. Making a furious effort
under the mortification of such a conviction, one of the strongest of
their party broke his paddle at the very moment when he had taken it from
the hand of a comrade to relieve him. This at once decided the matter, a
canoe containing three men and having but one paddle being utterly unable
to overtake fugitives like the daughters of Thomas Hutter.

“There, Judith!” exclaimed Hetty, who saw the accident, “I hope now you
will own, that praying is useful! The Hurons have broke a paddle, and they
never can overtake us.”

“I never denied it, poor Hetty, and sometimes wish in bitterness of spirit
that I had prayed more myself, and thought less of my beauty! As you say,
we are now safe and need only go a little south and take breath.”

This was done; the enemy giving up the pursuit, as suddenly as a ship that
has lost an important spar, the instant the accident occurred. Instead of
following Judith’s canoe, which was now lightly skimming over the water
towards the south, the Hurons turned their bows towards the castle, where
they soon arrived and landed. The girls, fearful that some spare paddles
might be found in or about the buildings, continued on, nor did they stop
until so distant from their enemies as to give them every chance of
escape, should the chase be renewed. It would seem that the savages
meditated no such design, but at the end of an hour their canoe, filled
with men, was seen quitting the castle and steering towards the shore. The
girls were without food, and they now drew nearer to the buildings and the
Ark, having finally made up their minds from its manoeuvres that the
latter contained friends.

Notwithstanding the seeming desertion of the castle, Judith approached it
with extreme caution. The Ark was now quite a mile to the northward, but
sweeping up towards the buildings, and this, too, with a regularity of
motion that satisfied Judith a white man was at the oars. When within a
hundred yards of the building the girls began to encircle it, in order to
make sure that it was empty. No canoe was nigh, and this emboldened them
to draw nearer and nearer, until they had gone round the piles and reached
the platform.

“Do you go into the house, Hetty,” said Judith, “and see that the savages
are gone. They will not harm you, and if any of them are still here you
can give me the alarm. I do not think they will fire on a poor defenceless
girl, and I at least may escape, until I shall be ready to go among them
of my own accord.”

Hetty did as desired, Judith retiring a few yards from the platform the
instant her sister landed, in readiness for flight. But the last was
unnecessary, not a minute elapsing before Hetty returned to communicate
that all was safe.

“I’ve been in all the rooms, Judith,” said the latter earnestly, “and they
are empty, except father’s; he is in his own chamber, sleeping, though not
as quietly as we could wish.”

“Has any thing happened to father?” demanded Judith, as her foot touched
the platform; speaking quickly, for her nerves were in a state to be
easily alarmed.

Hetty seemed concerned, and she looked furtively about her as if unwilling
any one but a child should hear what she had to communicate, and even that
she should learn it abruptly.

“You know how it is with father sometimes, Judith,” she said, “When
overtaken with liquor he doesn’t always know what he says or does, and he
seems to be overtaken with liquor now.”

“That is strange! Would the savages have drunk with him, and then leave
him behind? But ’tis a grievous sight to a child, Hetty, to witness such a
failing in a parent, and we will not go near him ’til he wakes.”

A groan from the inner room, however, changed this resolution, and the
girls ventured near a parent whom it was no unusual thing for them to find
in a condition that lowers a man to the level of brutes. He was seated,
reclining in a corner of the narrow room with his shoulders supported by
the angle, and his head fallen heavily on his chest. Judith moved forward
with a sudden impulse, and removed a canvass cap that was forced so low on
his head as to conceal his face, and indeed all but his shoulders. The
instant this obstacle was taken away, the quivering and raw flesh, the
bared veins and muscles, and all the other disgusting signs of mortality,
as they are revealed by tearing away the skin, showed he had been scalped,
though still living.


Chapter XXI.

The reader must imagine the horror that daughters would experience, at
unexpectedly beholding the shocking spectacle that was placed before the
eyes of Judith and Esther, as related in the close of the last chapter. We
shall pass over the first emotions, the first acts of filial piety, and
proceed with the narrative by imagining rather than relating most of the
revolting features of the scene. The mutilated and ragged head was bound
up, the unseemly blood was wiped from the face of the sufferer, the other
appliances required by appearances and care were resorted to, and there
was time to enquire into the more serious circumstances of the case. The
facts were never known until years later in all their details, simple as
they were, but they may as well be related here, as it can be done in a
few words. In the struggle with the Hurons, Hutter had been stabbed by the
knife of the old warrior, who had used the discretion to remove the arms
of every one but himself. Being hard pushed by his sturdy foe, his knife
had settled the matter. This occurred just as the door was opened, and
Hurry burst out upon the platform, as has been previously related. This
was the secret of neither party’s having appeared in the subsequent
struggle; Hutter having been literally disabled, and his conqueror being
ashamed to be seen with the traces of blood about him, after having used
so many injunctions to convince his young warriors of the necessity of
taking their prisoners alive. When the three Hurons returned from the
chase, and it was determined to abandon the castle and join the party on
the land, Hutter was simply scalped to secure the usual trophy, and was
left to die by inches, as has been done in a thousand similar instances by
the ruthless warriors of this part of the American continent. Had the
injury of Hutter been confined to his head, he might have recovered,
however, for it was the blow of the knife that proved mortal. There are
moments of vivid consciousness, when the stern justice of God stands forth
in colours so prominent as to defy any attempts to veil them from the
sight, however unpleasant they may appear, or however anxious we may be to
avoid recognising it. Such was now the fact with Judith and Hetty, who
both perceived the decrees of a retributive Providence, in the manner of
their father’s suffering, as a punishment for his own recent attempts on
the Iroquois. This was seen and felt by Judith with the keenness of
perception and sensibility that were suited to her character, while the
impression made on the simpler mind of her sister was perhaps less lively,
though it might well have proved more lasting.

“Oh! Judith,” exclaimed the weak minded girl, as soon as their first care
had been bestowed on sufferer. “Father went for scalps, himself, and now
where is his own? The Bible might have foretold this dreadful punishment!”

“Hush, Hetty—hush, poor sister—He opens his eyes; he may hear
and understand you. ‘Tis as you say and think, but ’tis too dreadful to
speak.”

“Water,” ejaculated Hutter, as it might be by a desperate effort, that
rendered his voice frightfully deep and strong for one as near death as he
evidently was—“Water—foolish girls—will you let me die
of thirst?”

Water was brought and administered to the sufferer; the first he had
tasted in hours of physical anguish. It had the double effect of clearing
his throat and of momentarily reviving his sinking system. His eyes opened
with that anxious, distended gaze which is apt to accompany the passage of
a soul surprised by death, and he seemed disposed to speak.

“Father,” said Judith, inexpressibly pained by his deplorable situation,
and this so much the more from her ignorance of what remedies ought to be
applied—“Father, can we do any thing for you? Can Hetty and I
relieve your pain?”

“Father!” slowly repeated the old man. “No, Judith; no, Hetty—I’m no
father. She was your mother, but I’m no father. Look in the chest—’Tis
all there—give me more water.”

The girls complied, and Judith, whose early recollections extended farther
back than her sister’s, and who on every account had more distinct
impressions of the past, felt an uncontrollable impulse of joy as she
heard these words. There had never been much sympathy between her reputed
father and herself, and suspicions of this very truth had often glanced
across her mind, in consequence of dialogues she had overheard between
Hutter and her mother. It might be going too far to say she had never
loved him, but it is not so to add that she rejoiced it was no longer a
duty. With Hetty the feeling was different. Incapable of making all the
distinctions of her sister, her very nature was full of affection, and she
had loved her reputed parent, though far less tenderly than the real
parent, and it grieved her now to hear him declare he was not naturally
entitled to that love. She felt a double grief, as if his death and his
words together were twice depriving her of parents. Yielding to her
feelings, the poor girl went aside and wept.

The very opposite emotions of the two girls kept both silent for a long
time. Judith gave water to the sufferer frequently, but she forbore to
urge him with questions, in some measure out of consideration for his
condition, but, if truth must be said, quite as much lest something he
should add in the way of explanation might disturb her pleasing belief
that she was not Thomas Hutter’s child. At length Hetty dried her tears,
and came and seated herself on a stool by the side of the dying man, who
had been placed at his length on the floor, with his head supported by
some coarse vestments that had been left in the house.

“Father,” she said “you will let me call you father, though you say you
are not one—Father, shall I read the Bible to you—mother
always said the Bible was good for people in trouble. She was often in
trouble herself, and then she made me read the Bible to her—for
Judith wasn’t as fond of the Bible as I am—and it always did her
good. Many is the time I’ve known mother begin to listen with the tears
streaming from her eyes, and end with smiles and gladness. Oh! father, you
don’t know how much good the Bible can do, for you’ve never tried it. Now,
I’ll read a chapter and it will soften your heart as it softened the
hearts of the Hurons.”

While poor Hetty had so much reverence for, and faith in, the virtues of
the Bible, her intellect was too shallow to enable her fully to appreciate
its beauties, or to fathom its profound and sometimes mysterious wisdom.
That instinctive sense of right which appeared to shield her from the
commission of wrong, and even cast a mantle of moral loveliness and truth
around her character, could not penetrate abstrusities, or trace the nice
affinities between cause and effect, beyond their more obvious and
indisputable connection, though she seldom failed to see all the latter,
and to defer to all their just consequences. In a word, she was one of
those who feel and act correctly without being able to give a logical
reason for it, even admitting revelation as her authority. Her selections
from the Bible, therefore, were commonly distinguished by the simplicity
of her own mind, and were oftener marked for containing images of known
and palpable things than for any of the higher cast of moral truths with
which the pages of that wonderful book abound—wonderful, and
unequalled, even without referring to its divine origin, as a work replete
with the profoundest philosophy, expressed in the noblest language. Her
mother, with a connection that will probably strike the reader, had been
fond of the book of Job, and Hetty had, in a great measure, learned to
read by the frequent lessons she had received from the different chapters
of this venerable and sublime poem—now believed to be the oldest
book in the world. On this occasion the poor girl was submissive to her
training, and she turned to that well known part of the sacred volume,
with the readiness with which the practised counsel would cite his
authorities from the stores of legal wisdom. In selecting the particular
chapter, she was influenced by the caption, and she chose that which
stands in our English version as “Job excuseth his desire of death.” This
she read steadily, from beginning to end, in a sweet, low and plaintive
voice; hoping devoutly that the allegorical and abstruse sentences might
convey to the heart of the sufferer the consolation he needed. It is
another peculiarity of the comprehensive wisdom of the Bible that scarce a
chapter, unless it be strictly narration, can be turned to, that does not
contain some searching truth that is applicable to the condition of every
human heart, as well as to the temporal state of its owner, either through
the workings of that heart, or even in a still more direct form. In this
instance, the very opening sentence—“Is there not an appointed time
to man on earth?” was startling, and as Hetty proceeded, Hutter applied,
or fancied he could apply many aphorisms and figures to his own worldly
and mental condition. As life is ebbing fast, the mind clings eagerly to
hope when it is not absolutely crushed by despair. The solemn words “I
have sinned; what shall I do unto thee, O thou preserver of men? Why hast
thou set me as a mark against thee, so that I am a burden to myself,”
struck Hutter more perceptibly than the others, and, though too obscure
for one of his blunted feelings and obtuse mind either to feel or to
comprehend in their fullest extent, they had a directness of application
to his own state that caused him to wince under them.

“Don’t you feel better now, father?” asked Hetty, closing the volume.
“Mother was always better when she had read the Bible.”

“Water,” returned Hutter—“give me water, Judith. I wonder if my
tongue will always be so hot! Hetty, isn’t there something in the Bible
about cooling the tongue of a man who was burning in Hell fire?”

Judith turned away shocked, but Hetty eagerly sought the passage, which
she read aloud to the conscience stricken victim of his own avaricious
longings.

“That’s it, poor Hetty; yes, that’s it. My tongue wants cooling, now—what
will it be hereafter?”

This appeal silenced even the confiding Hetty, for she had no answer ready
for a confession so fraught with despair. Water, so long as it could
relieve the sufferer, it was in the power of the sisters to give, and from
time to time it was offered to the lips of the sufferer as he asked for
it. Even Judith prayed. As for Hetty, as soon as she found that her
efforts to make her father listen to her texts were no longer rewarded
with success, she knelt at his side and devoutly repeated the words which
the Saviour has left behind him as a model for human petitions. This she
continued to do, at intervals, as long as it seemed to her that the act
could benefit the dying man. Hutter, however, lingered longer than the
girls had believed possible when they first found him. At times he spoke
intelligibly, though his lips oftener moved in utterance of sounds that
carried no distinct impressions to the mind. Judith listened intently, and
she heard the words—“husband”—“death”—“pirate”—“law”—“scalps”—and
several others of similar import, though there was no sentence to tell the
precise connection in which they were used. Still they were sufficiently
expressive to be understood by one whose ears had not escaped all the
rumours that had been circulated to her reputed father’s discredit, and
whose comprehension was as quick as her faculties were attentive.

During the whole of the painful hour that succeeded, neither of the
sisters bethought her sufficiently of the Hurons to dread their return. It
seemed as if their desolation and grief placed them above the danger of
such an interruption, and when the sound of oars was at length heard, even
Judith, who alone had any reason to apprehend the enemy, did not start,
but at once understood that the Ark was near. She went upon the platform
fearlessly, for should it turn out that Hurry was not there, and that the
Hurons were masters of the scow also, escape was impossible. Then she had
the sort of confidence that is inspired by extreme misery. But there was
no cause for any new alarm, Chingachgook, Hist, and Hurry all standing in
the open part of the scow, cautiously examining the building to make
certain of the absence of the enemy. They, too, had seen the departure of
the Hurons, as well as the approach of the canoe of the girls to the
castle, and presuming on the latter fact, March had swept the scow up to
the platform. A word sufficed to explain that there was nothing to be
apprehended, and the Ark was soon moored in her old berth.

Judith said not a word concerning the condition of her father, but Hurry
knew her too well not to understand that something was more than usually
wrong. He led the way, though with less of his confident bold manner than
usual, into the house, and penetrating to the inner room, found Hutter
lying on his back with Hetty sitting at his side, fanning him with pious
care. The events of the morning had sensibly changed the manner of Hurry.
Notwithstanding his skill as a swimmer, and the readiness with which he
had adopted the only expedient that could possibly save him, the
helplessness of being in the water, bound hand and foot, had produced some
such effect on him, as the near approach of punishment is known to produce
on most criminals, leaving a vivid impression of the horrors of death upon
his mind, and this too in connection with a picture of bodily
helplessness; the daring of this man being far more the offspring of vast
physical powers, than of the energy of the will, or even of natural
spirit. Such heroes invariably lose a large portion of their courage with
the failure of their strength, and though Hurry was now unfettered and as
vigorous as ever, events were too recent to permit the recollection of his
late deplorable condition to be at all weakened. Had he lived a century,
the occurrences of the few momentous minutes during which he was in the
lake would have produced a chastening effect on his character, if not
always on his manner.

Hurry was not only shocked when he found his late associate in this
desperate situation, but he was greatly surprised. During the struggle in
the building, he had been far too much occupied himself to learn what had
befallen his comrade, and, as no deadly weapon had been used in his
particular case, but every effort had been made to capture him without
injury, he naturally believed that Hutter had been overcome, while he owed
his own escape to his great bodily strength, and to a fortunate
concurrence of extraordinary circumstances. Death, in the silence and
solemnity of a chamber, was a novelty to him. Though accustomed to scenes
of violence, he had been unused to sit by the bedside and watch the slow
beating of the pulse, as it gradually grew weaker and weaker.
Notwithstanding the change in his feelings, the manners of a life could
not be altogether cast aside in a moment, and the unexpected scene
extorted a characteristic speech from the borderer.

“How now! old Tom,” he said, “have the vagabonds got you at an advantage,
where you’re not only down, but are likely to be kept down! I thought you
a captyve it’s true, but never supposed you so hard run as this!”

Hutter opened his glassy eyes, and stared wildly at the speaker. A flood
of confused recollections rushed on his wavering mind at the sight of his
late comrade. It was evident that he struggled with his own images, and
knew not the real from the unreal.

“Who are you?” he asked in a husky whisper, his failing strength refusing
to aid him in a louder effort of his voice.

“Who are you?—You look like the mate of ‘The Snow’—he was a
giant, too, and near overcoming us.”

“I’m your mate, Floating Tom, and your comrade, but have nothing to do
with any snow. It’s summer now, and Harry March always quits the hills as
soon after the frosts set in, as is convenient.”

“I know you—Hurry Skurry—I’ll sell you a scalp!—a sound
one, and of a full grown man—What’ll you give?”

“Poor Tom! That scalp business hasn’t turned out at all profitable, and
I’ve pretty much concluded to give it up; and to follow a less bloody
calling.”

“Have you got any scalp? Mine’s gone—How does it feel to have a
scalp? I know how it feels to lose one—fire and flames about the
brain—and a wrenching at the heart—no—no—kill
first, Hurry, and scalp afterwards.”

“What does the old fellow mean, Judith? He talks like one that is getting
tired of the business as well as myself. Why have you bound up his head?
or, have the savages tomahawked him about the brains?”

“They have done that for him which you and he, Harry March, would have so
gladly done for them. His skin and hair have been torn from his head to
gain money from the governor of Canada, as you would have torn theirs from
the heads of the Hurons, to gain money from the Governor of York.”

Judith spoke with a strong effort to appear composed, but it was neither
in her nature, nor in the feeling of the moment to speak altogether
without bitterness. The strength of her emphasis, indeed, as well as her
manner, caused Hetty to look up reproachfully.

“These are high words to come from Thomas Hutter’s darter, as Thomas
Hutter lies dying before her eyes,” retorted Hurry.

“God be praised for that!—whatever reproach it may bring on my poor
mother, I am not Thomas Hutter’s daughter.”

“Not Thomas Hutter’s darter!—Don’t disown the old fellow in his last
moments, Judith, for that’s a sin the Lord will never overlook. If you’re
not Thomas Hutter’s darter, whose darter be you?”

This question rebuked the rebellious spirit of Judith, for, in getting rid
of a parent whom she felt it was a relief to find she might own she had
never loved, she overlooked the important circumstance that no substitute
was ready to supply his place.

“I cannot tell you, Harry, who my father was,” she answered more mildly;
“I hope he was an honest man, at least.”

“Which is more than you think was the case with old Hutter? Well, Judith,
I’ll not deny that hard stories were in circulation consarning Floating
Tom, but who is there that doesn’t get a scratch, when an inimy holds the
rake? There’s them that say hard things of me, and even you, beauty as you
be, don’t always escape.”

This was said with a view to set up a species of community of character
between the parties, and as the politicians are wont to express it, with
ulterior intentions. What might have been the consequences with one of
Judith’s known spirit, as well as her assured antipathy to the speaker, it
is not easy to say, for, just then, Hutter gave unequivocal signs that his
last moment was nigh. Judith and Hetty had stood by the dying bed of their
mother, and neither needed a monitor to warn them of the crisis, and every
sign of resentment vanished from the face of the first. Hutter opened his
eyes, and even tried to feel about him with his hands, a sign that sight
was failing. A minute later, his breathing grew ghastly; a pause totally
without respiration followed; and, then, succeeded the last, long drawn
sigh, on which the spirit is supposed to quit the body. This sudden
termination of the life of one who had hitherto filled so important a
place in the narrow scene on which he had been an actor, put an end to all
discussion.

The day passed by without further interruption, the Hurons, though
possessed of a canoe, appearing so far satisfied with their success as to
have relinquished all immediate designs on the castle. It would not have
been a safe undertaking, indeed, to approach it under the rifles of those
it was now known to contain, and it is probable that the truce was more
owing to this circumstance than to any other. In the mean while the
preparations were made for the interment of Hutter. To bury him on the
land was impracticable, and it was Hetty’s wish that his body should lie
by the side of that of her mother, in the lake. She had it in her power to
quote one of his speeches, in which he himself had called the lake the
“family burying ground,” and luckily this was done without the knowledge
of her sister, who would have opposed the plan, had she known it, with
unconquerable disgust. But Judith had not meddled with the arrangement,
and every necessary disposition was made without her privity or advice.

The hour chosen for the rude ceremony was just as the sun was setting, and
a moment and a scene more suited to paying the last offices to one of calm
and pure spirit could not have been chosen. There are a mystery and a
solemn dignity in death, that dispose the living to regard the remains of
even a malefactor with a certain degree of reverence. All worldly
distinctions have ceased; it is thought that the veil has been removed,
and that the character and destiny of the departed are now as much beyond
human opinions, as they are beyond human ken. In nothing is death more
truly a leveller than in this, since, while it may be impossible
absolutely to confound the great with the low, the worthy with the
unworthy, the mind feels it to be arrogant to assume a right to judge of
those who are believed to be standing at the judgment seat of God. When
Judith was told that all was ready, she went upon the platform, passive to
the request of her sister, and then she first took heed of the
arrangement. The body was in the scow, enveloped in a sheet, and quite a
hundred weight of stones, that had been taken from the fire place, were
enclosed with it, in order that it might sink. No other preparation seemed
to be thought necessary, though Hetty carried her Bible beneath her arm.

When all were on board the Ark, the singular habitation of the man whose
body it now bore to its final abode, was set in motion. Hurry was at the
oars. In his powerful hands, indeed, they seemed little more than a pair
of sculls, which were wielded without effort, and, as he was expert in
their use, the Delaware remained a passive spectator of the proceedings.
The progress of the Ark had something of the stately solemnity of a
funeral procession, the dip of the oars being measured, and the movement
slow and steady. The wash of the water, as the blades rose and fell, kept
time with the efforts of Hurry, and might have been likened to the
measured tread of mourners. Then the tranquil scene was in beautiful
accordance with a rite that ever associates with itself the idea of God.
At that instant, the lake had not even a single ripple on its glassy
surface, and the broad panorama of woods seemed to look down on the holy
tranquillity of the hour and ceremony in melancholy stillness. Judith was
affected to tears, and even Hurry, though he hardly knew why, was
troubled. Hetty preserved the outward signs of tranquillity, but her
inward grief greatly surpassed that of her sister, since her affectionate
heart loved more from habit and long association, than from the usual
connections of sentiment and taste. She was sustained by religious hope,
however, which in her simple mind usually occupied the space that worldly
feelings filled in that of Judith, and she was not without an expectation
of witnessing some open manifestation of divine power, on an occasion so
solemn. Still she was neither mystical nor exaggerated; her mental
imbecility denying both. Nevertheless her thoughts had generally so much
of the purity of a better world about them that it was easy for her to
forget earth altogether, and to think only of heaven. Hist was serious,
attentive and interested, for she had often seen the interments of the
pale-faces, though never one that promised to be as peculiar as this;
while the Delaware, though grave, and also observant, in his demeanor was
stoical and calm.

Hetty acted as pilot, directing Hurry how to proceed, to find that spot in
the lake which she was in the habit of terming “mother’s grave.” The
reader will remember that the castle stood near the southern extremity of
a shoal that extended near half a mile northerly, and it was at the
farthest end of this shallow water that Floating Tom had seen fit to
deposit the remains of his wife and child. His own were now in the course
of being placed at their side. Hetty had marks on the land by which she
usually found the spot, although the position of the buildings, the
general direction of the shoal, and the beautiful transparency of the
water all aided her, the latter even allowing the bottom to be seen. By
these means the girl was enabled to note their progress, and at the proper
time she approached March, whispering, “Now, Hurry you can stop rowing. We
have passed the stone on the bottom, and mother’s grave is near.”

March ceased his efforts, immediately dropping the kedge and taking the
warp in his hand in order to check the scow. The Ark turned slowly round
under this restraint, and when it was quite stationary, Hetty was seen at
its stern, pointing into the water, the tears streaming from her eyes, in
ungovernable natural feeling. Judith had been present at the interment of
her mother, but she had never visited the spot since. The neglect
proceeded from no indifference to the memory of the deceased; for she had
loved her mother, and bitterly had she found occasion to mourn her loss;
but she was averse to the contemplation of death; and there had been
passages in her own life since the day of that interment which increased
this feeling, and rendered her, if possible, still more reluctant to
approach the spot that contained the remains of one whose severe lessons
of female morality and propriety had been deepened and rendered doubly
impressive by remorse for her own failings. With Hetty, the case had been
very different. To her simple and innocent mind, the remembrance of her
mother brought no other feeling than one of gentle sorrow; a grief that is
so often termed luxurious even, because it associates with itself the
images of excellence and the purity of a better state of existence. For an
entire summer, she had been in the habit of repairing to the place after
night-fall; and carefully anchoring her canoe so as not to disturb the
body, she would sit and hold fancied conversations with the deceased, sing
sweet hymns to the evening air, and repeat the orisons that the being who
now slumbered below had taught her in infancy. Hetty had passed her
happiest hours in this indirect communion with the spirit of her mother;
the wildness of Indian traditions and Indian opinions, unconsciously to
herself, mingling with the Christian lore received in childhood. Once she
had even been so far influenced by the former as to have bethought her of
performing some of those physical rites at her mother’s grave which the
redmen are known to observe; but the passing feeling had been obscured by
the steady, though mild light of Christianity, which never ceased to burn
in her gentle bosom. Now her emotions were merely the natural outpourings
of a daughter that wept for a mother whose love was indelibly impressed on
the heart, and whose lessons had been too earnestly taught to be easily
forgotten by one who had so little temptation to err.

There was no other priest than nature at that wild and singular funeral
rite. March cast his eyes below, and through the transparent medium of the
clear water, which was almost as pure as air, he saw what Hetty was
accustomed to call “mother’s grave.” It was a low, straggling mound of
earth, fashioned by no spade, out of a corner of which gleamed a bit of
the white cloth that formed the shroud of the dead. The body had been
lowered to the bottom, and Hutter brought earth from the shore and let it
fall upon it, until all was concealed. In this state the place had
remained until the movement of the waters revealed the solitary sign of
the uses of the spot that has just been mentioned.

Even the most rude and brawling are chastened by the ceremonies of a
funeral. March felt no desire to indulge his voice in any of its coarse
outbreakings, and was disposed to complete the office he had undertaken in
decent sobriety. Perhaps he reflected on the retribution that had alighted
on his late comrade, and bethought him of the frightful jeopardy in which
his own life had so lately been placed. He signified to Judith that all
was ready, received her directions to proceed, and, with no other
assistant than his own vast strength, raised the body and bore it to the
end of the scow. Two parts of a rope were passed beneath the legs and
shoulders, as they are placed beneath coffins, and then the corpse was
slowly lowered beneath the surface of the lake.

“Not there—Harry March—no, not there,” said Judith, shuddering
involuntarily; “do not lower it quite so near the spot where mother lies!”

“Why not, Judith?” asked Hetty, earnestly. “They lived together in life,
and should lie together in death.”

“No—no—Harry March, further off—further off. Poor Hetty,
you know not what you say. Leave me to order this.”

“I know I am weak-minded, Judith, and that you are clever—but,
surely a husband should be placed near a wife. Mother always said that
this was the way they bury in Christian churchyards.”

This little controversy was conducted earnestly, but in smothered voices,
as if the speakers feared that the dead might overhear them. Judith could
not contend with her sister at such a moment, but a significant gesture
induced March to lower the body at a little distance from that of his
wife; when he withdrew the cords, and the act was performed.

“There’s an end of Floating Tom!” exclaimed Hurry, bending over the scow,
and gazing through the water at the body. “He was a brave companion on a
scout, and a notable hand with traps. Don’t weep, Judith, don’t be
overcome, Hetty, for the righteousest of us all must die; and when the
time comes, lamentations and tears can’t bring the dead to life. Your
father will be a loss to you, no doubt; most fathers are a loss,
especially to onmarried darters; but there’s a way to cure that evil, and
you’re both too young and handsome to live long without finding it out.
When it’s agreeable to hear what an honest and onpretending man has to
say, Judith, I should like to talk a little with you, apart.”

Judith had scarce attended to this rude attempt of Hurry’s at consolation,
although she necessarily understood its general drift, and had a tolerably
accurate notion of its manner. She was weeping at the recollection of her
mother’s early tenderness, and painful images of long forgotten lessons
and neglected precepts were crowding her mind. The words of Hurry,
however, recalled her to the present time, and abrupt and unseasonable as
was their import, they did not produce those signs of distaste that one
might have expected from the girl’s character. On the contrary, she
appeared to be struck with some sudden idea, gazed intently for a moment
at the young man, dried her eyes, and led the way to the other end of the
scow, signifying her wish for him to follow. Here she took a seat and
motioned for March to place himself at her side. The decision and
earnestness with which all this was done a little intimidated her
companion, and Judith found it necessary to open the subject herself.

“You wish to speak to me of marriage, Harry March,” she said, “and I have
come here, over the grave of my parents, as it might be—no—no—over
the grave of my poor, dear, dear, mother, to hear what you have to say.”

“This is oncommon, and you have a skearful way with you this evening,
Judith,” answered Hurry, more disturbed than he would have cared to own,
“but truth is truth, and it shall come out, let what will follow. You well
know, gal, that I’ve long thought you the comeliest young woman my eyes
ever beheld, and that I’ve made no secret of that fact, either here on the
lake, out among the hunters and trappers, or in the settlements.”

“Yes—yes, I’ve heard this before, and I suppose it to be true,”
answered Judith with a sort of feverish impatience.

“When a young man holds such language of any particular young woman, it’s
reasonable to calculate he sets store by her.”

“True—true, Hurry—all this you’ve told me, again and again.”

“Well, if it’s agreeable, I should think a woman coul’n’t hear it too
often. They all tell me this is the way with your sex, that nothing
pleases them more than to repeat over and over, for the hundredth time,
how much you like ’em, unless it be to talk to ’em of their good looks!”

“No doubt—we like both, on most occasions, but this is an uncommon
moment, Hurry, and vain words should not be too freely used. I would
rather hear you speak plainly.”

“You shall have your own way, Judith, and I some suspect you always will.
I’ve often told you that I not only like you better than any other young
woman going, or, for that matter, better than all the young women going,
but you must have obsarved, Judith, that I’ve never asked you, in up and
down tarms, to marry me.”

“I have observed both,” returned the girl, a smile struggling about her
beautiful mouth, in spite of the singular and engrossing intentness which
caused her cheeks to flush and lighted her eyes with a brilliancy that was
almost dazzling—“I have observed both, and have thought the last
remarkable for a man of Harry March’s decision and fearlessness.”

“There’s been a reason, gal, and it’s one that troubles me even now—nay,
don’t flush up so, and look fiery like, for there are thoughts which will
stick long in any man’s mind, as there be words that will stick in his
throat—but, then ag’in, there’s feelin’s that will get the better of
’em all, and to these feelin’s I find I must submit. You’ve no longer a
father, or a mother, Judith, and it’s morally unpossible that you and
Hetty could live here, alone, allowing it was peace and the Iroquois was
quiet; but, as matters stand, not only would you starve, but you’d both be
prisoners, or scalped, afore a week was out. It’s time to think of a
change and a husband, and, if you’ll accept of me, all that’s past shall
be forgotten, and there’s an end on’t.”

Judith had difficulty in repressing her impatience until this rude
declaration and offer were made, which she evidently wished to hear, and
which she now listened to with a willingness that might well have excited
hope. She hardly allowed the young man to conclude, so eager was she to
bring him to the point, and so ready to answer.

“There—Hurry—that’s enough,” she said, raising a hand as if to
stop him—“I understand you as well as if you were to talk a month.
You prefer me to other girls, and you wish me to become your wife.”

“You put it in better words than I can do, Judith, and I wish you to fancy
them said just as you most like to hear ’em.”

“They’re plain enough, Harry, and ’tis fitting they should be so. This is
no place to trifle or deceive in. Now, listen to my answer, which shall
be, in every tittle, as sincere as your offer. There is a reason, March,
why I should never—

“I suppose I understand you, Judith, but if I’m willing to overlook that
reason, it’s no one’s consarn but mine—Now, don’t brighten up like
the sky at sundown, for no offence is meant, and none should be taken.”

“I do not brighten up, and will not take offence,” said Judith, struggling
to repress her indignation, in a way she had never found it necessary to
exert before. “There is a reason why I should not, cannot, ever be your
wife, Hurry, that you seem to overlook, and which it is my duty now to
tell you, as plainly as you have asked me to consent to become so. I do
not, and I am certain that I never shall, love you well enough to marry
you. No man can wish for a wife who does not prefer him to all other men,
and when I tell you this frankly, I suppose you yourself will thank me for
my sincerity.”

“Ah! Judith, them flaunting, gay, scarlet-coated officers of the garrisons
have done all this mischief!”

“Hush, March; do not calumniate a daughter over her mother’s grave! Do
not, when I only wish to treat you fairly, give me reason to call for evil
on your head in bitterness of heart! Do not forget that I am a woman, and
that you are a man; and that I have neither father, nor brother, to
revenge your words!”

“Well, there is something in the last, and I’ll say no more. Take time,
Judith, and think better on this.”

“I want no time—my mind has long been made up, and I have only
waited for you to speak plainly, to answer plainly. We now understand each
other, and there is no use in saying any more.”

The impetuous earnestness of the girl awed the young man, for never before
had he seen her so serious and determined. In most, of their previous
interviews she had met his advances with evasion or sarcasm, but these
Hurry had mistaken for female coquetry, and had supposed might easily be
converted into consent. The struggle had been with himself, about
offering, nor had he ever seriously believed it possible that Judith would
refuse to become the wife of the handsomest man on all that frontier. Now
that the refusal came, and that in terms so decided as to put all
cavilling out of the question; if not absolutely dumbfounded, he was so
much mortified and surprised as to feel no wish to attempt to change her
resolution.

“The Glimmerglass has now no great call for me,” he exclaimed after a
minute’s silence. “Old Tom is gone, the Hurons are as plenty on the shore
as pigeons in the woods, and altogether it is getting to be an onsuitable
place.”

“Then leave it. You see it is surrounded by dangers, and there is no
reason why you should risk your life for others. Nor do I know that you
can be of any service to us. Go, to-night; we’ll never accuse you of
having done any thing forgetful, or unmanly.”

“If I do go, ’twill be with a heavy heart on your account, Judith; I would
rather take you with me.”

“That is not to be spoken of any longer, March; but, I will land you in
one of the canoes, as soon as it is dark and you can strike a trail for
the nearest garrison. When you reach the fort, if you send a party—”

Judith smothered the words, for she felt that it was humiliating to be
thus exposing herself to the comments and reflections of one who was not
disposed to view her conduct in connection with all in those garrisons,
with an eye of favor. Hurry, however, caught the idea, and without
perverting it, as the girl dreaded, he answered to the purpose.

“I understand what you would say, and why you don’t say it.” he replied.
“If I get safe to the fort, a party shall start on the trail of these
vagabonds, and I’ll come with it, myself, for I should like to see you and
Hetty in a place of safety, before we part forever.”

“Ah, Harry March, had you always spoken thus, felt thus, my feelings
towards you might have been different!”

“Is it too late, now, Judith? I’m rough and a woodsman, but we all change
under different treatment from what we have been used to.”

“It is too late, March. I can never feel towards you, or any other man but
one, as you would wish to have me. There, I’ve said enough, surely, and
you will question me no further. As soon as it is dark, I or the Delaware
will put you on the shore. You will make the best of your way to the
Mohawk, and the nearest garrison, and send all you can to our assistance.
And, Hurry, we are now friends, and I may trust in you, may I not?”

“Sartain, Judith; though our fri’ndship would have been all the warmer,
could you look upon me as I look upon you.”

Judith hesitated, and some powerful emotion was struggling within her.
Then, as if determined to look down all weaknesses, and accomplish her
purposes at every hazard, she spoke more plainly.

“You will find a captain of the name of Warley at the nearest post,” she
said, pale as death, and even trembling as she spoke; “I think it likely
he will wish to head the party, but I would greatly prefer it should be
another. If Captain Warley can be kept back, ‘t would make me very happy!”

“That’s easier said than done, Judith, for these officers do pretty much
as they please. The Major will order, and captains, and lieutenants, and
ensigns must obey. I know the officer you mean, a red faced, gay, oh! be
joyful sort of a gentleman, who swallows madeira enough to drown the
Mohawk, and yet a pleasant talker. All the gals in the valley admire him,
and they say he admires all the gals. I don’t wonder he is your dislike,
Judith, for he’s a very gin’ral lover, if he isn’t a gin’ral officer.”

Judith did not answer, though her frame shook, and her colour changed from
pale to crimson, and from crimson back again to the hue of death.

“Alas! my poor mother!” she ejaculated mentally instead of uttering it
aloud, “We are over thy grave, but little dost thou know how much thy
lessons have been forgotten; thy care neglected; thy love defeated!”

As this goading of the worm that never dies was felt, she arose and
signified to Hurry, that she had no more to communicate.


Chapter XXII.

All this time Hetty had remained seated in the head of the scow, looking
sorrowfully into the water which held the body of her mother, as well as
that of the man whom she had been taught to consider her father. Hist
stood near her in gentle quiet, but had no consolation to offer in words.
The habits of her people taught her reserve in this respect, and the
habits of her sex induced her to wait patiently for a moment when she
might manifest some soothing sympathy by means of acts, rather than of
speech. Chingachgook held himself a little aloof, in grave reserve,
looking like a warrior, but feeling like a man.

Judith joined her sister with an air of dignity and solemnity it was not
her practice to show, and, though the gleamings of anguish were still
visible on her beautiful face, when she spoke it was firmly and without
tremor. At that instant Hist and the Delaware withdrew, moving towards
Hurry, in the other end of the boat.

“Sister,” said Judith kindly, “I have much to say to you; we will get into
this canoe, and paddle off to a distance from the Ark—The secrets of
two orphans ought not to be heard by every ear.”

“Certainly, Judith, by the ears of their parents? Let Hurry lift the
grapnel and move away with the Ark, and leave us here, near the graves of
father and mother, to say what we may have to say.”

“Father!” repeated Judith slowly, the blood for the first time since her
parting with March mounting to her cheeks—“He was no father of ours,
Hetty! That we had from his own mouth, and in his dying moments.”

“Are you glad, Judith, to find you had no father! He took care of us, and
fed us, and clothed us, and loved us; a father could have done no more. I
don’t understand why he wasn’t a father.”

“Never mind, dear child, but let us do as you have said. It may be well to
remain here, and let the Ark move a little away. Do you prepare the canoe,
and I will tell Hurry and the Indians our wishes.”

This was soon and simply done, the Ark moving with measured strokes of the
sweeps a hundred yards from the spot, leaving the girls floating,
seemingly in air, above the place of the dead; so buoyant was the light
vessel that held them, and so limpid the element by which it was
sustained.

“The death of Thomas Hutter,” Judith commenced, after a short pause had
prepared her sister to receive her communications, “has altered all our
prospects, Hetty. If he was not our father, we are sisters, and must feel
alike and live together.”

“How do I know, Judith, that you wouldn’t be as glad to find I am not your
sister, as you are in finding that Thomas Hutter, as you call him, was not
your father. I am only half witted, and few people like to have half
witted relations; and then I’m not handsome—at least, not as
handsome as you—and you may wish a handsomer sister.”

“No, no Hetty. You and you only are my sister—my heart, and my love
for you tell me that—and mother was my mother—of that too am I
glad, and proud; for she was a mother to be proud of—but father was
not father!”

“Hush, Judith! His spirit may be near; it would grieve it to hear his
children talking so, and that, too, over his very grave. Children should
never grieve parents, mother often told me, and especially when they are
dead!”

“Poor Hetty! They are happily removed beyond all cares on our account.
Nothing that I can do or say will cause mother any sorrow now—there
is some consolation in that, at least! And nothing you can say or do will
make her smile, as she used to smile on your good conduct when living.”

“You don’t know that, Judith. Spirits can see, and mother may see as well
as any spirit. She always told us that God saw all we did, and that we
should do nothing to offend him; and now she has left us, I strive to do
nothing that can displease her. Think how her spirit would mourn and feel
sorrow, Judith, did it see either of us doing what is not right; and
spirits may see, after all; especially the spirits of parents that feel
anxious about their children.”

“Hetty—Hetty—you know not what you say!” murmured Judith,
almost livid with emotion—“The dead cannot see, and know nothing of
what passes here! But, we will not talk of this any longer. The bodies of
Mother and Thomas Hutter lie together in the lake, and we will hope that
the spirits of both are with God. That we, the children of one of them,
remain on earth is certain; it is now proper to know what we are to do in
future.”

“If we are not Thomas Hutter’s children, Judith, no one will dispute our
right to his property. We have the castle and the Ark, and the canoes, and
the woods, and the lakes, the same as when he was living, and what can
prevent us from staying here, and passing our lives just as we ever have
done?”

“No, no poor sister—this can no longer be. Two girls would not be
safe here, even should these Hurons fail in getting us into their power.
Even father had as much as he could sometimes do, to keep peace upon the
lake, and we should fail altogether. We must quit this spot, Hetty, and
remove into the settlements.”

“I am sorry you think so, Judith,” returned Hetty, dropping her head on
her bosom, and looking thoughtfully down at the spot where the funeral
pile of her mother could just be seen. “I am very sorry to hear it. I
would rather stay here, where, if I wasn’t born, I’ve passed my life. I
don’t like the settlements—they are full of wickedness and heart
burnings, while God dwells unoffended in these hills! I love the trees,
and the mountains, and the lake, and the springs; all that his bounty has
given us, and it would grieve me sorely, Judith, to be forced to quit
them. You are handsome, and not at all half-witted, and one day you will
marry, and then you will have a husband, and I a brother to take care of
us, if women can’t really take care of themselves in such a place as
this.”

“Ah! if this could be so, Hetty, then, indeed, I could now be a thousand
times happier in these woods, than in the settlements. Once I did not feel
thus, but now I do. Yet where is the man to turn this beautiful place into
such a garden of Eden for us?”

“Harry March loves you, sister,” returned poor Hetty, unconsciously
picking the bark off the canoe as she spoke. “He would be glad to be your
husband, I’m sure, and a stouter and a braver youth is not to be met with
the whole country round.”

“Harry March and I understand each other, and no more need be said about
him. There is one—but no matter. It is all in the hands of
providence, and we must shortly come to some conclusion about our future
manner of living. Remain here—that is, remain here, alone, we cannot—and
perhaps no occasion will ever offer for remaining in the manner you think
of. It is time, too, Hetty, we should learn all we can concerning our
relations and family. It is not probable we are altogether without
relations, and they may be glad to see us. The old chest is now our
property, and we have a right to look into it, and learn all we can by
what it holds. Mother was so very different from Thomas Hutter, that, now
I know we are not his children, I burn with a desire to know whose
children we can be. There are papers in that chest, I am certain, and
those papers may tell us all about our parents and natural friends.”

“Well, Judith, you know best, for you are cleverer than common, mother
always said, and I am only half-witted. Now father and mother are dead, I
don’t much care for any relation but you, and don’t think I could love
them I never saw, as well as I ought. If you don’t like to marry Hurry, I
don’t see who you can choose for a husband, and then I fear we shall have
to quit the lake, after all.”

“What do you think of Deerslayer, Hetty?” asked Judith, bending forward
like her unsophisticated sister, and endeavoring to conceal her
embarrassment in a similar manner. “Would he not make a brother-in-law to
your liking?”

“Deerslayer!” repeated the other, looking up in unfeigned surprise. “Why,
Judith, Deerslayer isn’t in the least comely, and is altogether unfit for
one like you!”

“He is not ill-looking, Hetty, and beauty in a man is not of much matter.”

“Do you think so, Judith? I know that beauty is of no great matter, in man
or woman, in the eyes of God, for mother has often told me so, when she
thought I might have been sorry I was not as handsome as you, though she
needn’t have been uneasy on that account, for I never coveted any thing
that is yours, sister—but, tell me so she did—still, beauty is
very pleasant to the eye, in both! I think, if I were a man, I should pine
more for good looks than I do as a girl. A handsome man is a more pleasing
sight than a handsome woman.”

“Poor child! You scarce know what you say, or what you mean! Beauty in our
sex is something, but in men, it passes for little. To be sure, a man
ought to be tall, but others are tall, as well as Hurry; and active—and
I think I know those that are more active—and strong; well, he
hasn’t all the strength in the world—and brave—I am certain I
can name a youth who is braver!”

“This is strange, Judith!—I didn’t think the earth held a handsomer,
or a stronger, or a more active or a braver man than Hurry Harry! I’m sure
I never met his equal in either of these things.”

“Well, well, Hetty—say no more of this. I dislike to hear you
talking in this manner. ‘Tis not suitable to your innocence, and truth,
and warm-hearted sincerity. Let Harry March go. He quits us to-night, and
no regret of mine will follow him, unless it be that he has staid so long,
and to so little purpose.”

“Ah! Judith; that is what I’ve long feared—and I did so hope he
might be my brother-in-law!”

“Never mind it now. Let us talk of our poor mother—and of Thomas
Hutter.”

“Speak kindly then, sister, for you can’t be quite certain that spirits
don’t both hear and see. If father wasn’t father, he was good to us, and
gave us food and shelter. We can’t put any stones over their graves, here
in the water, to tell people all this, and so we ought to say it with our
tongues.”

“They will care little for that, girl. ‘Tis a great consolation to know,
Hetty, that if mother ever did commit any heavy fault when young, she
lived sincerely to repent of it; no doubt her sins were forgiven her.”

“Tisn’t right, Judith, for children to talk of their parents’ sins. We had
better talk of our own.”

“Talk of your sins, Hetty!—If there ever was a creature on earth
without sin, it is you! I wish I could say, or think the same of myself;
but we shall see. No one knows what changes affection for a good husband
can make in a woman’s heart. I don’t think, child, I have even now the
same love for finery I once had.”

“It would be a pity, Judith, if you did think of clothes, over your
parents’ graves! We will never quit this spot, if you say so, and will let
Hurry go where he pleases.”

“I am willing enough to consent to the last, but cannot answer for the
first, Hetty. We must live, in future, as becomes respectable young women,
and cannot remain here, to be the talk and jest of all the rude and foul
tongu’d trappers and hunters that may come upon the lake. Let Hurry go by
himself, and then I’ll find the means to see Deerslayer, when the future
shall be soon settled. Come, girl, the sun has set, and the Ark is
drifting away from us; let us paddle up to the scow, and consult with our
friends. This night I shall look into the chest, and to-morrow shall
determine what we are to do. As for the Hurons, now we can use our stores
without fear of Thomas Hutter, they will be easily bought off. Let me get
Deerslayer once out of their hands, and a single hour shall bring things
to an understanding.”

Judith spoke with decision, and she spoke with authority, a habit she had
long practised towards her feeble-minded sister. But, while thus
accustomed to have her way, by the aid of manner and a readier command of
words, Hetty occasionally checked her impetuous feelings and hasty acts by
the aid of those simple moral truths that were so deeply engrafted in all
her own thoughts and feelings; shining through both with a mild and
beautiful lustre that threw a sort of holy halo around so much of what she
both said and did. On the present occasion, this healthful ascendancy of
the girl of weak intellect, over her of a capacity that, in other
situations, might have become brilliant and admired, was exhibited in the
usual simple and earnest manner.

“You forget, Judith, what has brought us here,” she said reproachfully.
“This is mother’s grave, and we have just laid the body of father by her
side. We have done wrong to talk so much of ourselves at such a spot, and
ought now to pray God to forgive us, and ask him to teach us where we are
to go, and what we are to do.”

Judith involuntarily laid aside her paddle, while Hetty dropped on her
knees, and was soon lost in her devout but simple petitions. Her sister
did not pray. This she had long ceased to do directly, though anguish of
spirit frequently wrung from her mental and hasty appeals to the great
source of benevolence, for support, if not for a change of spirit. Still
she never beheld Hetty on her knees, that a feeling of tender
recollection, as well as of profound regret at the deadness of her own
heart, did not come over her. Thus had she herself done in childhood, and
even down to the hour of her ill fated visits to the garrisons, and she
would willingly have given worlds, at such moments, to be able to exchange
her present sensations for the confiding faith, those pure aspirations,
and the gentle hope that shone through every lineament and movement of her
otherwise, less favored sister. All she could do, however, was to drop her
head to her bosom, and assume in her attitude some of that devotion in
which her stubborn spirit refused to unite. When Hetty rose from her
knees, her countenance had a glow and serenity that rendered a face that
was always agreeable, positively handsome. Her mind was at peace, and her
conscience acquitted her of a neglect of duty.

“Now, you may go if you want to, Judith,” she said, “for God has been kind
to me, and lifted a burden off my heart. Mother had many such burdens, she
used to tell me, and she always took them off in this way. ‘Tis the only
way, sister, such things can be done. You may raise a stone, or a log,
with your hands; but the heart must be lightened by prayer. I don’t think
you pray as often as you used to do, when younger, Judith!”

“Never mind—never mind, child,” answered the other huskily, “’tis no
matter, now. Mother is gone, and Thomas Hutter is gone, and the time has
come when we must think and act for ourselves.”

As the canoe moved slowly away from the place, under the gentle impulsion
of the elder sister’s paddle, the younger sat musing, as was her wont
whenever her mind was perplexed by any idea more abstract and difficult of
comprehension than common.

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘future’, Judith,” she at length, suddenly
observed. “Mother used to call Heaven the future, but you seem to think it
means next week, or to-morrow!”

“It means both, dear sister—every thing that is yet to come, whether
in this world or another. It is a solemn word, Hetty, and most so, I fear,
to them that think the least about it. Mother’s future is eternity; ours
may yet mean what will happen while we live in this world—Is not
that a canoe just passing behind the castle—here, more in the
direction of the point, I mean; it is hid, now; but certainly I saw a
canoe stealing behind the logs!”

“I’ve seen it some time,” Hetty quietly answered, for the Indians had few
terrors for her, “but I didn’t think it right to talk about such things
over mother’s grave! The canoe came from the camp, Judith, and was paddled
by a single man. He seemed to be Deerslayer, and no Iroquois.”

“Deerslayer!” returned the other, with much of her native impetuosity—“That
cannot be! Deerslayer is a prisoner, and I have been thinking of the means
of setting him free. Why did you fancy it Deerslayer, child?”

“You can look for yourself, sister, for there comes the canoe in sight,
again, on this side of the hut.”

Sure enough, the light boat had passed the building, and was now steadily
advancing towards the Ark; the persons on board of which were already
collecting in the head of the scow to receive their visitor. A single
glance sufficed to assure Judith that her sister was right, and that
Deerslayer was alone in the canoe. His approach was so calm and leisurely,
however, as to fill her with wonder, since a man who had effected his
escape from enemies by either artifice or violence, would not be apt to
move with the steadiness and deliberation with which his paddle swept the
water. By this time the day was fairly departing, and objects were already
seen dimly under the shores. In the broad lake, however, the light still
lingered, and around the immediate scene of the present incidents, which
was less shaded than most of the sheet, being in its broadest part, it
cast a glow that bore some faint resemblance to the warm tints of an
Italian or Grecian sunset. The logs of the hut and Ark had a sort of
purple hue, blended with the growing obscurity, and the bark of the
hunter’s boat was losing its distinctness in colours richer, but more
mellowed, than those it showed under a bright sun. As the two canoes
approached each other—for Judith and her sister had plied their
paddles so as to intercept the unexpected visiter ere he reached the Ark—even
Deerslayer’s sun-burned countenance wore a brighter aspect than common,
under the pleasing tints that seemed to dance in the atmosphere. Judith
fancied that delight at meeting her had some share in this unusual and
agreeable expression. She was not aware that her own beauty appeared to
more advantage than common, from the same natural cause, nor did she
understand what it would have given her so much pleasure to know, that the
young man actually thought her, as she drew nearer, the loveliest creature
of her sex his eyes had ever dwelt on.

“Welcome—welcome, Deerslayer!” exclaimed the girl, as the canoes
floated at each other’s side; “we have had a melancholy—a frightful
day—but your return is, at least, one misfortune the less! Have the
Hurons become more human, and let you go; or have you escaped from the
wretches, by your own courage and skill?”

“Neither, Judith—neither one nor t’other. The Mingos are Mingos
still, and will live and die Mingos; it is not likely their natur’s will
ever undergo much improvement. Well! They’ve their gifts, and we’ve our’n,
Judith, and it doesn’t much become either to speak ill of what the Lord
has created; though, if the truth must be said, I find it a sore trial to
think kindly or to talk kindly of them vagabonds. As for outwitting them,
that might have been done, and it was done, too, atween the Sarpent,
yonder, and me, when we were on the trail of Hist—” here the hunter
stopped to laugh in his own silent fashion—“but it’s no easy matter
to sarcumvent the sarcumvented. Even the fa’ans get to know the tricks of
the hunters afore a single season is over, and an Indian whose eyes have
once been opened by a sarcumvention never shuts them ag’in in precisely
the same spot. I’ve known whites to do that, but never a red-skin. What
they l’arn comes by practice, and not by books, and of all schoolmasters
exper’ence gives lessons that are the longest remembered.”

“All this is true, Deerslayer, but if you have not escaped from the
savages, how came you here?”

“That’s a nat’ral question, and charmingly put. You are wonderful handsome
this evening, Judith, or Wild Rose, as the Sarpent calls you, and I may as
well say it, since I honestly think it! You may well call them Mingos,
savages too, for savage enough do they feel, and savage enough will they
act, if you once give them an opportunity. They feel their loss here, in
the late skrimmage, to their hearts’ cores, and are ready to revenge it on
any creatur’ of English blood that may fall in their way. Nor, for that
matter do I much think they would stand at taking their satisfaction out
of a Dutch man.”

“They have killed father; that ought to satisfy their wicked cravings for
blood,” observed Hetty reproachfully.

“I know it, gal—I know the whole story—partly from what I’ve
seen from the shore, since they brought me up from the point, and partly
from their threats ag’in myself, and their other discourse. Well, life is
unsartain at the best, and we all depend on the breath of our nostrils for
it, from day to day. If you’ve lost a staunch fri’nd, as I make no doubt
you have, Providence will raise up new ones in his stead, and since our
acquaintance has begun in this oncommon manner, I shall take it as a hint
that it will be a part of my duty in futur’, should the occasion offer, to
see you don’t suffer for want of food in the wigwam. I can’t bring the
dead to life, but as to feeding the living, there’s few on all this
frontier can outdo me, though I say it in the way of pity and consolation,
like, and in no particular, in the way of boasting.”

“We understand you, Deerslayer,” returned Judith, hastily, “and take all
that falls from your lips, as it is meant, in kindness and friendship.
Would to Heaven all men had tongues as true, and hearts as honest!”

“In that respect men do differ, of a sartainty, Judith. I’ve known them
that wasn’t to be trusted any farther than you can see them; and others
ag’in whose messages, sent with a small piece of wampum, perhaps, might
just as much be depended on, as if the whole business was finished afore
your face. Yes, Judith, you never said truer word, than when you said some
men might be depended on, and other some might not.”

“You are an unaccountable being, Deerslayer,” returned the girl, not a
little puzzled with the childish simplicity of character that the hunter
so often betrayed—a simplicity so striking that it frequently
appeared to place him nearly on a level with the fatuity of poor Hetty,
though always relieved by the beautiful moral truth that shone through all
that this unfortunate girl both said and did—“You are a most
unaccountable man, and I often do not know how to understand you. But
never mind, just now; you have forgotten to tell us by what means you are
here.”

“I!—Oh! That’s not very onaccountable, if I am myself, Judith. I’m
out on furlough.”

“Furlough!—That word has a meaning among the soldiers that I
understand; but I cannot tell what it signifies when used by a prisoner.”

“It means just the same. You’re right enough; the soldiers do use it, and
just in the same way as I use it. A furlough is when a man has leave to
quit a camp or a garrison for a sartain specified time; at the end of
which he is to come back and shoulder his musket, or submit to his
torments, just as he may happen to be a soldier, or a captyve. Being the
last, I must take the chances of a prisoner.”

“Have the Hurons suffered you to quit them in this manner, without watch
or guard.”

“Sartain—I woul’n’t have come in any other manner, unless indeed it
had been by a bold rising, or a sarcumvention.”

“What pledge have they that you will ever return?”

“My word,” answered the hunter simply. “Yes, I own I gave ’em that, and
big fools would they have been to let me come without it! Why in that
case, I shouldn’t have been obliged to go back and ondergo any deviltries
their fury may invent, but might have shouldered my rifle, and made the
best of my way to the Delaware villages. But, Lord! Judith, they know’d
this, just as well as you and I do, and would no more let me come away,
without a promise to go back, than they would let the wolves dig up the
bones of their fathers!”

“Is it possible you mean to do this act of extraordinary self-destruction
and recklessness?”

“Anan!”

“I ask if it can be possible that you expect to be able to put yourself
again in the power of such ruthless enemies, by keeping your word.”

Deerslayer looked at his fair questioner for a moment with stern
displeasure. Then the expression of his honest and guileless face suddenly
changed, lighting as by a quick illumination of thought, after which he
laughed in his ordinary manner.

“I didn’t understand you, at first, Judith; no, I didn’t! You believe that
Chingachgook and Hurry Harry won’t suffer it; but you don’t know mankind
thoroughly yet, I see. The Delaware would be the last man on ‘arth to
offer any objections to what he knows is a duty, and, as for March, he
doesn’t care enough about any creatur’ but himself to spend many words on
such a subject. If he did, ‘twould make no great difference howsever; but
not he, for he thinks more of his gains than of even his own word. As for
my promises, or your’n, Judith, or any body else’s, they give him no
consarn. Don’t be under any oneasiness, therefore, gal; I shall be allowed
to go back according to the furlough; and if difficulties was made, I’ve
not been brought up, and edicated as one may say, in the woods, without
knowing how to look ’em down.”

Judith made no answer for some little time. All her feelings as a woman,
and as a woman who, for the first time in her life was beginning to submit
to that sentiment which has so much influence on the happiness or misery
of her sex, revolted at the cruel fate that she fancied Deerslayer was
drawing down upon himself, while the sense of right, which God has
implanted in every human breast, told her to admire an integrity as
indomitable and as unpretending as that which the other so unconsciously
displayed. Argument, she felt, would be useless, nor was she at that
moment disposed to lessen the dignity and high principle that were so
striking in the intentions of the hunter, by any attempt to turn him from
his purpose. That something might yet occur to supersede the necessity for
this self immolation she tried to hope, and then she proceeded to
ascertain the facts in order that her own conduct might be regulated by
her knowledge of circumstances.

“When is your furlough out, Deerslayer,” she asked, after both canoes were
heading towards the Ark, and moving, with scarcely a perceptible effort of
the paddles, through the water.

“To-morrow noon; not a minute afore; and you may depend on it, Judith, I
shan’t quit what I call Christian company, to go and give myself up to
them vagabonds, an instant sooner than is downright necessary. They begin
to fear a visit from the garrisons, and wouldn’t lengthen the time a
moment, and it’s pretty well understood atween us that, should I fail in
my ar’n’d, the torments are to take place when the sun begins to fall,
that they may strike upon their home trail as soon as it is dark.”

This was said solemnly, as if the thought of what was believed to be in
reserve duly weighed on the prisoner’s mind, and yet so simply, and
without a parade of suffering, as rather to repel than to invite any open
manifestations of sympathy.

“Are they bent on revenging their losses?” Judith asked faintly, her own
high spirit yielding to the influence of the other’s quiet but dignified
integrity of purpose.

“Downright, if I can judge of Indian inclinations by the symptoms. They
think howsever I don’t suspect their designs, I do believe, but one that
has lived so long among men of red-skin gifts, is no more likely to be
misled in Injin feelin’s, than a true hunter is like to lose his trail, or
a stanch hound his scent. My own judgment is greatly ag’in my own escape,
for I see the women are a good deal enraged on behalf of Hist, though I
say it, perhaps, that shouldn’t say it, seein’ that I had a considerable
hand myself in getting the gal off. Then there was a cruel murder in their
camp last night, and that shot might just as well have been fired into my
breast. Howsever, come what will, the Sarpent and his wife will be safe,
and that is some happiness in any case.”

“Oh! Deerslayer, they will think better of this, since they have given you
until to-morrow noon to make up your mind!”

“I judge not, Judith; yes, I judge not. An Injin is an Injin, gal, and
it’s pretty much hopeless to think of swarving him, when he’s got the
scent and follows it with his nose in the air. The Delawares, now, are a
half Christianized tribe—not that I think such sort of Christians
much better than your whole blooded onbelievers—but, nevertheless,
what good half Christianizing can do to a man, some among ’em have got,
and yet revenge clings to their hearts like the wild creepers here to the
tree! Then, I slew one of the best and boldest of their warriors, they
say, and it is too much to expect that they should captivate the man who
did this deed, in the very same scouting on which it was performed, and
they take no account of the matter. Had a month, or so, gone by, their
feelin’s would have been softened down, and we might have met in a more
friendly way, but it is as it is. Judith, this is talking of nothing but
myself, and my own consarns, when you have had trouble enough, and may
want to consult a fri’nd a little about your own matters. Is the old man
laid in the water, where I should think his body would like to rest?”

“It is, Deerslayer,” answered Judith, almost inaudibly. “That duty has
just been performed. You are right in thinking that I wish to consult a
friend; and that friend is yourself. Hurry Harry is about to leave us;
when he is gone, and we have got a little over the feelings of this solemn
office, I hope you will give me an hour alone. Hetty and I are at a loss
what to do.”

“That’s quite nat’ral, coming as things have, suddenly and fearfully. But
here’s the Ark, and we’ll say more of this when there is a better
opportunity.”


Chapter XXIII.

The meeting between Deerslayer and his friends in the Ark was grave and
anxious. The two Indians, in particular, read in his manner that he was
not a successful fugitive, and a few sententious words sufficed to let
them comprehend the nature of what their friend had termed his ‘furlough.’
Chingachgook immediately became thoughtful, while Hist, as usual, had no
better mode of expressing her sympathy than by those little attentions
which mark the affectionate manner of woman.

In a few minutes, however, something like a general plan for the
proceedings of the night was adopted, and to the eye of an uninstructed
observer things would be thought to move in their ordinary train. It was
now getting to be dark, and it was decided to sweep the Ark up to the
castle, and secure it in its ordinary berth. This decision was come to, in
some measure on account of the fact that all the canoes were again in the
possession of their proper owners, but principally, from the security that
was created by the representations of Deerslayer. He had examined the
state of things among the Hurons, and felt satisfied that they meditated
no further hostilities during the night, the loss they had met having
indisposed them to further exertions for the moment. Then, he had a
proposition to make; the object of his visit; and, if this were accepted,
the war would at once terminate between the parties; and it was improbable
that the Hurons would anticipate the failure of a project on which their
chiefs had apparently set their hearts, by having recourse to violence
previously to the return of their messenger. As soon as the Ark was
properly secured, the different members of the party occupied themselves
in their several peculiar manners, haste in council, or in decision, no
more characterizing the proceedings of these border whites, than it did
those of their red neighbors. The women busied themselves in preparations
for the evening meal, sad and silent, but ever attentive to the first
wants of nature. Hurry set about repairing his moccasins, by the light of
a blazing knot; Chingachgook seated himself in gloomy thought, while
Deerslayer proceeded, in a manner equally free from affectation and
concern, to examine ‘Killdeer’, the rifle of Hutter that has been already
mentioned, and which subsequently became so celebrated, in the hands of
the individual who was now making a survey of its merits. The piece was a
little longer than usual, and had evidently been turned out from the work
shops of some manufacturer of a superior order. It had a few silver
ornaments, though, on the whole, it would have been deemed a plain piece
by most frontier men, its great merit consisting in the accuracy of its
bore, the perfection of the details, and the excellence of the metal.
Again and again did the hunter apply the breech to his shoulder, and
glance his eye along the sights, and as often did he poise his body and
raise the weapon slowly, as if about to catch an aim at a deer, in order
to try the weight, and to ascertain its fitness for quick and accurate
firing. All this was done, by the aid of Hurry’s torch, simply, but with
an earnestness and abstraction that would have been found touching by any
spectator who happened to know the real situation of the man.

“’Tis a glorious we’pon, Hurry!” Deerslayer at length exclaimed, “and it
may be thought a pity that it has fallen into the hands of women. The
hunters have told me of its expl’ites, and by all I have heard, I should
set it down as sartain death in exper’enced hands. Hearken to the tick of
this lock—a wolf trap has’n’t a livelier spring; pan and cock speak
together, like two singing masters undertaking a psalm in meetin’. I never
did see so true a bore, Hurry, that’s sartain!”

“Ay, Old Tom used to give the piece a character, though he wasn’t the man
to particularize the ra’al natur’ of any sort of fire arms, in practise,”
returned March, passing the deer’s thongs through the moccasin with the
coolness of a cobbler. “He was no marksman, that we must all allow; but he
had his good p’ints, as well as his bad ones. I have had hopes that Judith
might consait the idee of giving Killdeer to me.”

“There’s no saying what young women may do, that’s a truth, Hurry, and I
suppose you’re as likely to own the rifle as another. Still, when things
are so very near perfection, it’s a pity not to reach it entirely.”

“What do you mean by that?—Would not that piece look as well on my
shoulder, as on any man’s?”

“As for looks, I say nothing. You are both good-looking, and might make
what is called a good-looking couple. But the true p’int is as to conduct.
More deer would fall in one day, by that piece, in some man’s hands, than
would fall in a week in your’n, Hurry! I’ve seen you try; yes, remember
the buck t’other day.”

“That buck was out of season, and who wishes to kill venison out of
season. I was merely trying to frighten the creatur’, and I think you will
own that he was pretty well skeared, at any rate.”

“Well, well, have it as you say. But this is a lordly piece, and would
make a steady hand and quick eye the King of the Woods!”

“Then keep it, Deerslayer, and become King of the Woods,” said Judith,
earnestly, who had heard the conversation, and whose eye was never long
averted from the honest countenance of the hunter. “It can never be in
better hands than it is, at this moment, and there I hope it will remain
these fifty years.

“Judith you can’t be in ‘arnest!” exclaimed Deerslayer, taken so much by
surprise, as to betray more emotion than it was usual for him to manifest
on ordinary occasions. “Such a gift would be fit for a ra’al King to make;
yes, and for a ra’al King to receive.”

“I never was more in earnest, in my life, Deerslayer, and I am as much in
earnest in the wish as in the gift.”

“Well, gal, well; we’ll find time to talk of this ag’in. You mustn’t be
down hearted, Hurry, for Judith is a sprightly young woman, and she has a
quick reason; she knows that the credit of her father’s rifle is safer in
my hands, than it can possibly be in yourn; and, therefore, you mustn’t be
down hearted. In other matters, more to your liking, too, you’ll find
she’ll give you the preference.”

Hurry growled out his dissatisfaction, but he was too intent on quitting
the lake, and in making his preparations, to waste his breath on a subject
of this nature. Shortly after, the supper was ready, and it was eaten in
silence as is so much the habit of those who consider the table as merely
a place of animal refreshment. On this occasion, however, sadness and
thought contributed their share to the general desire not to converse, for
Deerslayer was so far an exception to the usages of men of his cast, as
not only to wish to hold discourse on such occasions, but as often to
create a similar desire in his companions.

The meal ended, and the humble preparations removed, the whole party
assembled on the platform to hear the expected intelligence from
Deerslayer on the subject of his visit. It had been evident he was in no
haste to make his communication, but the feelings of Judith would no
longer admit of delay. Stools were brought from the Ark and the hut, and
the whole six placed themselves in a circle, near the door, watching each
other’s countenances, as best they could, by the scanty means that were
furnished by a lovely star-light night. Along the shores, beneath the
mountains, lay the usual body of gloom, but in the broad lake no shadow
was cast, and a thousand mimic stars were dancing in the limpid element,
that was just stirred enough by the evening air to set them all in motion.

“Now, Deerslayer,” commenced Judith, whose impatience resisted further
restraint—“now, Deerslayer, tell us all the Hurons have to say, and
the reason why they have sent you on parole, to make us some offer.”

“Furlough, Judith; furlough is the word; and it carries the same meaning
with a captyve at large, as it does with a soldier who has leave to quit
his colors. In both cases the word is passed to come back, and now I
remember to have heard that’s the ra’al signification; ‘furlough’ meaning
a ‘word’ passed for the doing of any thing of the like. Parole I rather
think is Dutch, and has something to do with the tattoos of the garrisons.
But this makes no great difference, since the vartue of a pledge lies in
the idee, and not in the word. Well, then, if the message must be given,
it must; and perhaps there is no use in putting it off. Hurry will soon be
wanting to set out on his journey to the river, and the stars rise and
set, just as if they cared for neither Injin nor message. Ah’s! me;
‘Tisn’t a pleasant, and I know it’s a useless ar’n’d, but it must be
told.”

“Harkee, Deerslayer,” put in Hurry, a little authoritatively—“You’re
a sensible man in a hunt, and as good a fellow on a march, as a
sixty-miler-a-day could wish to meet with, but you’re oncommon slow about
messages; especially them that you think won’t be likely to be well
received. When a thing is to be told, why tell it; and don’t hang back
like a Yankee lawyer pretending he can’t understand a Dutchman’s English,
just to get a double fee out of him.”

“I understand you, Hurry, and well are you named to-night, seeing you’ve
no time to lose. But let us come at once to the p’int, seeing that’s the
object of this council—for council it may be called, though women
have seats among us. The simple fact is this. When the party came back
from the castle, the Mingos held a council, and bitter thoughts were
uppermost, as was plain to be seen by their gloomy faces. No one likes to
be beaten, and a red-skin as little as a pale-face. Well, when they had
smoked upon it, and made their speeches, and their council fire had burnt
low, the matter came out. It seems the elders among ’em consaited I was a
man to be trusted on a furlough—They’re wonderful obsarvant, them
Mingos; that their worst mimics must allow—but they consaited I was
such a man; and it isn’t often—” added the hunter, with a pleasing
consciousness that his previous life justified this implicit reliance on
his good faith—“it isn’t often they consait any thing so good of a
pale-face; but so they did with me, and, therefore, they didn’t hesitate
to speak their minds, which is just this: You see the state of things. The
lake, and all on it, they fancy, lie at their marcy. Thomas Hutter is
deceased, and, as for Hurry, they’ve got the idee he has been near enough
to death to-day, not to wish to take another look at him this summer.
Therefore, they account all your forces as reduced to Chingachgook and the
two young women, and, while they know the Delaware to be of a high race,
and a born warrior, they know he’s now on his first war path. As for the
gals, of course they set them down much as they do women in gin’ral.”

“You mean that they despise us!” interrupted Judith, with eyes that
flashed so brightly as to be observed by all present.

“That will be seen in the end. They hold that all on the lake lies at
their marcy, and, therefore, they send by me this belt of wampum,” showing
the article in question to the Delaware, as he spoke, “with these words.
‘Tell the Sarpent, they say, that he has done well for a beginner; he may
now strike across the mountains for his own villages, and no one shall
look for his trail. If he has found a scalp, let him take it with him, for
the Huron braves have hearts, and can feel for a young warrior who doesn’t
wish to go home empty-handed. If he is nimble, he is welcome to lead out a
party in pursuit. Hist, howsever, must go back to the Hurons, for, when
she left there in the night, she carried away by mistake, that which
doesn’t belong to her.”

“That can’t be true!” said Hetty earnestly. “Hist is no such girl, but one
that gives every body his due—”

How much more she would have said in remonstrance cannot be known,
inasmuch as Hist, partly laughing and partly hiding her face in shame,
passed her own hand across the speaker’s mouth in a way to check the
words.

“You don’t understand Mingo messages, poor Hetty—” resumed
Deerslayer, “which seldom mean what lies exactly uppermost. Hist has
brought away with her the inclinations of a young Huron, and they want her
back again, that the poor young man may find them where he last saw them!
The Sarpent they say is too promising a young warrior not to find as many
wives as he wants, but this one he cannot have. That’s their meaning, and
nothing else, as I understand it.”

“They are very obliging and thoughtful, in supposing a young woman can
forget all her own inclinations in order to let this unhappy youth find
his!” said Judith, ironically; though her manner became more bitter as she
proceeded. “I suppose a woman is a woman, let her colour be white, or red,
and your chiefs know little of a woman’s heart, Deerslayer, if they think
it can ever forgive when wronged, or ever forget when it fairly loves.”

“I suppose that’s pretty much the truth with some women, Judith, though
I’ve known them that could do both. The next message is to you. They say
the Muskrat, as they called your father, has dove to the bottom of the
lake; that he will never come up again, and that his young will soon be in
want of wigwams if not of food. The Huron huts, they think, are better
than the huts of York, and they wish you to come and try them. Your colour
is white, they own, but they think young women who’ve lived so long in the
woods would lose their way in the clearin’s. A great warrior among them
has lately lost his wife, and he would be glad to put the Wild Rose on her
bench at his fireside. As for the Feeble Mind, she will always be honored
and taken care of by red warriors. Your father’s goods they think ought to
go to enrich the tribe, but your own property, which is to include
everything of a female natur’, will go like that of all wives, into the
wigwam of the husband. Moreover, they’ve lost a young maiden by violence,
lately, and ’twill take two pale-faces to fill her seat.”

“And do you bring such a message to me,” exclaimed Judith, though the tone
in which the words were uttered had more in it of sorrow than of anger.
“Am I a girl to be an Indian’s slave?”

“If you wish my honest thoughts on this p’int, Judith, I shall answer that
I don’t think you’ll, willingly, ever become any man’s slave; red-skin or
white. You’re not to think hard, howsever, of my bringing the message, as
near as I could, in the very words in which it was given to me. Them was
the conditions on which I got my furlough, and a bargain is a bargain,
though it is made with a vagabond. I’ve told you what they’ve said, but
I’ve not yet told you what I think you ought, one and all, to answer.”

“Ay; let’s hear that, Deerslayer,” put in Hurry. “My cur’osity is up on
that consideration, and I should like, right well, to hear your idees of
the reasonableness of the reply. For my part, though, my own mind is
pretty much settled on the p’int of my own answer, which shall be made
known as soon as necessary.”

“And so is mine, Hurry, on all the different heads, and on no one is it
more sartainly settled that on your’n. If I was you, I should say—’Deerslayer,
tell them scamps they don’t know Harry March! He is human; and having a
white skin, he has also a white natur’, which natur’ won’t let him desart
females of his own race and gifts in their greatest need. So set me down
as one that will refuse to come into your treaty, though you should smoke
a hogshead of tobacco over it.’”

March was a little embarrassed at this rebuke, which was uttered with
sufficient warmth of manner, and with a point that left no doubt of the
meaning. Had Judith encouraged him, he would not have hesitated about
remaining to defend her and her sister, but under the circumstances a
feeling of resentment rather urged him to abandon them. At all events,
there was not a sufficiency of chivalry in Hurry Harry to induce him to
hazard the safety of his own person unless he could see a direct
connection between the probable consequences and his own interests. It is
no wonder, therefore, that his answer partook equally of his intention,
and of the reliance he so boastingly placed on his gigantic strength,
which if it did not always make him outrageous, usually made him impudent,
as respects those with whom he conversed.

“Fair words make long friendships, Master Deerslayer,” he said a little
menacingly. “You’re but a stripling, and you know by exper’ence what you
are in the hands of a man. As you’re not me, but only a go between sent by
the savages to us Christians, you may tell your empl’yers that they do
know Harry March, which is a proof of their sense as well as his. He’s
human enough to follow human natur’, and that tells him to see the folly
of one man’s fighting a whole tribe. If females desart him, they must
expect to be desarted by him, whether they’re of his own gifts or another
man’s gifts. Should Judith see fit to change her mind, she’s welcome to my
company to the river, and Hetty with her; but shouldn’t she come to this
conclusion, I start as soon as I think the enemy’s scouts are beginning to
nestle themselves in among the brush and leaves for the night.”

“Judith will not change her mind, and she does not ask your company,
Master March,” returned the girl with spirit.

“That p’int’s settled, then,” resumed Deerslayer, unmoved by the other’s
warmth. “Hurry Harry must act for himself, and do that which will be most
likely to suit his own fancy. The course he means to take will give him an
easy race, if it don’t give him an easy conscience. Next comes the
question with Hist—what say you gal?—Will you desart your
duty, too, and go back to the Mingos and take a Huron husband, and all not
for the love of the man you’re to marry, but for the love of your own
scalp?”

“Why you talk so to Hist!” demanded the girl half-offended. “You t’ink a
red-skin girl made like captain’s lady, to laugh and joke with any officer
that come.”

“What I think, Hist, is neither here nor there in this matter. I must
carry back your answer, and in order to do so it is necessary that you
should send it. A faithful messenger gives his ar’n’d, word for word.”

Hist no longer hesitated to speak her mind fully. In the excitement she
rose from her bench, and naturally recurring to that language in which she
expressed herself the most readily, she delivered her thoughts and
intentions, beautifully and with dignity, in the tongue of her own people.

“Tell the Hurons, Deerslayer,” she said, “that they are as ignorant as
moles; they don’t know the wolf from the dog. Among my people, the rose
dies on the stem where it budded, the tears of the child fall on the
graves of its parents; the corn grows where the seed has been planted. The
Delaware girls are not messengers to be sent, like belts of wampum, from
tribe to tribe. They are honeysuckles, that are sweetest in their own
woods; their own young men carry them away in their bosoms, because they
are fragrant; they are sweetest when plucked from their native stems. Even
the robin and the martin come back, year after year, to their old nests;
shall a woman be less true hearted than a bird? Set the pine in the clay
and it will turn yellow; the willow will not flourish on the hill; the
tamarack is healthiest in the swamp; the tribes of the sea love best to
hear the winds that blow over the salt water. As for a Huron youth, what
is he to a maiden of the Lenni Lenape. He may be fleet, but her eyes do
not follow him in the race; they look back towards the lodges of the
Delawares. He may sing a sweet song for the girls of Canada, but there is
no music for Wah, but in the tongue she has listened to from childhood.
Were the Huron born of the people that once owned the shores of the salt
lake, it would be in vain, unless he were of the family of Uncas. The
young pine will rise to be as high as any of its fathers. Wah-ta-Wah has
but one heart, and it can love but one husband.”

Deerslayer listened to this characteristic message, which was given with
an earnestness suited to the feelings from which it sprung, with
undisguised delight, meeting the ardent eloquence of the girl, as she
concluded, with one of his own heartfelt, silent, and peculiar fits of
laughter.

“That’s worth all the wampum in the woods!” he exclaimed. “You don’t
understand it, I suppose, Judith, but if you’ll look into your feelin’s,
and fancy that an inimy had sent to tell you to give up the man of your
ch’ice, and to take up with another that wasn’t the man of your ch’ice,
you’ll get the substance of it, I’ll warrant! Give me a woman for ra’al
eloquence, if they’ll only make up their minds to speak what they feel. By
speakin’, I don’t mean chatterin’, howsever; for most of them will do that
by the hour; but comm’ out with their honest, deepest feelin’s in proper
words. And now, Judith, having got the answer of a red-skin girl, it is
fit I should get that of a pale-face, if, indeed, a countenance that is as
blooming as your’n can in any wise so be tarmed. You are well named the
Wild Rose, and so far as colour goes, Hetty ought to be called the
Honeysuckle.”

“Did this language come from one of the garrison gallants, I should deride
it, Deerslayer, but coming from you, I know it can be depended on,”
returned Judith, deeply gratified by his unmeditated and characteristic
compliments. “It is too soon, however, to ask my answer; the Great Serpent
has not yet spoken.”

“The Sarpent! Lord; I could carry back his speech without hearing a word
of it! I didn’t think of putting the question to him at all, I will allow;
though ‘twould be hardly right either, seeing that truth is truth, and I’m
bound to tell these Mingos the fact and nothing else. So, Chingachgook,
let us hear your mind on this matter—are you inclined to strike
across the hills towards your village, to give up Hist to a Huron, and to
tell the chiefs at home that, if they’re actyve and successful, they may
possibly get on the end of the Iroquois trail some two or three days a’ter
the inimy has got off of it?”

Like his betrothed, the young chief arose, that his answer might be given
with due distinctness and dignity. Hist had spoken with her hands crossed
upon her bosom, as if to suppress the emotions within, but the warrior
stretched an arm before him with a calm energy that aided in giving
emphasis to his expressions. “Wampum should be sent for wampum,” he said;
“a message must be answered by a message. Hear what the Great Serpent of
the Delawares has to say to the pretended wolves from the great lakes,
that are howling through our woods. They are no wolves; they are dogs that
have come to get their tails and ears cropped by the hands of the
Delawares. They are good at stealing young women; bad at keeping them.
Chingachgook takes his own where he finds it; he asks leave of no cur from
the Canadas. If he has a tender feeling in his heart, it is no business of
the Hurons. He tells it to her who most likes to know it; he will not
bellow it in the forest, for the ears of those that only understand yells
of terror. What passes in his lodge is not for the chiefs of his own
people to know; still less for Mingo rogues—”

“Call ’em vagabonds, Sarpent—” interrupted Deerslayer, unable to
restrain his delight—“yes, just call ’em up-and-down vagabonds,
which is a word easily intarpreted, and the most hateful of all to their
ears, it’s so true. Never fear me; I’ll give em your message, syllable for
syllable, sneer for sneer, idee for idee, scorn for scorn, and they
desarve no better at your hands—only call ’em vagabonds, once or
twice, and that will set the sap mounting in ’em, from their lowest roots
to the uppermost branches!”

“Still less for Mingo vagabonds,” resumed Chingachgook, quite willingly
complying with his friend’s request. “Tell the Huron dogs to howl louder,
if they wish a Delaware to find them in the woods, where they burrow like
foxes, instead of hunting like warriors. When they had a Delaware maiden
in their camp, there was a reason for hunting them up; now they will be
forgotten unless they make a noise. Chingachgook don’t like the trouble of
going to his villages for more warriors; he can strike their run-a-way
trail; unless they hide it under ground, he will follow it to Canada
alone. He will keep Wah-ta-Wah with him to cook his game; they two will be
Delawares enough to scare all the Hurons back to their own country.”

“That’s a grand despatch, as the officers call them things!” cried
Deerslayer; “’twill set all the Huron blood in motion; most particularily
that part where he tells ’em Hist, too, will keep on their heels ’til
they’re fairly driven out of the country. Ahs! me; big words ain’t always
big deeds, notwithstanding! The Lord send that we be able to be only one
half as good as we promise to be! And now, Judith, it’s your turn to
speak, for them miscreants will expect an answer from each person, poor
Hetty, perhaps, excepted.”

“And why not Hetty, Deerslayer? She often speaks to the purpose; the
Indians may respect her words, for they feel for people in her condition.”

“That is true, Judith, and quick-thoughted in you. The red-skins do
respect misfortunes of all kinds, and Hetty’s in particular. So, Hetty, if
you have any thing to say, I’ll carry it to the Hurons as faithfully as if
it was spoken by a schoolmaster, or a missionary.”

The girl hesitated a moment, and then she answered in her own gentle, soft
tones, as earnestly as any who had preceded her.

“The Hurons can’t understand the difference between white people and
themselves,” she said, “or they wouldn’t ask Judith and me to go and live
in their villages. God has given one country to the red men and another to
us. He meant us to live apart. Then mother always said that we should
never dwell with any but Christians, if possible, and that is a reason why
we can’t go. This lake is ours, and we won’t leave it. Father and mother’s
graves are in it, and even the worst Indians love to stay near the graves
of their fathers. I will come and see them again, if they wish me to, and
read more out of the Bible to them, but I can’t quit father’s and mother’s
graves.”

“That will do—that will do, Hetty, just as well as if you sent them
a message twice as long,” interrupted the hunter. “I’ll tell ’em all
you’ve said, and all you mean, and I’ll answer for it that they’ll be
easily satisfied. Now, Judith, your turn comes next, and then this part of
my ar’n’d will be tarminated for the night.”

Judith manifested a reluctance to give her reply, that had awakened a
little curiosity in the messenger. Judging from her known spirit, he had
never supposed the girl would be less true to her feelings and principles
than Hist, or Hetty, and yet there was a visible wavering of purpose that
rendered him slightly uneasy. Even now when directly required to speak,
she seemed to hesitate, nor did she open her lips until the profound
silence told her how anxiously her words were expected. Then, indeed, she
spoke, but it was doubtingly and with reluctance.

“Tell me, first—tell us, first, Deerslayer,” she commenced,
repeating the words merely to change the emphasis—“what effect will
our answers have on your fate? If you are to be the sacrifice of our
spirit, it would have been better had we all been more wary as to the
language we use. What, then, are likely to be the consequences to
yourself?”

“Lord, Judith, you might as well ask me which way the wind will blow next
week, or what will be the age of the next deer that will be shot! I can
only say that their faces look a little dark upon me, but it doesn’t
thunder every time a black cloud rises, nor does every puff of wind blow
up rain. That’s a question, therefore, much more easily put than
answered.”

“So is this message of the Iroquois to me,” answered Judith rising, as if
she had determined on her own course for the present. “My answer shall be
given, Deerslayer, after you and I have talked together alone, when the
others have laid themselves down for the night.”

There was a decision in the manner of the girl that disposed Deerslayer to
comply, and this he did the more readily as the delay could produce no
material consequences one way or the other. The meeting now broke up,
Hurry announcing his resolution to leave them speedily. During the hour
that was suffered to intervene, in order that the darkness might deepen
before the frontierman took his departure, the different individuals
occupied themselves in their customary modes, the hunter, in particular,
passing most of the time in making further enquiries into the perfection
of the rifle already mentioned.

The hour of nine soon arrived, however, and then it had been determined
that Hurry should commence his journey. Instead of making his adieus
frankly, and in a generous spirit, the little he thought it necessary to
say was uttered sullenly and in coldness. Resentment at what he considered
Judith’s obstinacy was blended with mortification at the career he had
since reaching the lake, and, as is usual with the vulgar and
narrow-minded, he was more disposed to reproach others with his failures
than to censure himself. Judith gave him her hand, but it was quite as
much in gladness as with regret, while the two Delawares were not sorry to
find he was leaving them. Of the whole party, Hetty alone betrayed any
real feeling. Bashfulness, and the timidity of her sex and character, kept
even her aloof, so that Hurry entered the canoe, where Deerslayer was
already waiting for him, before she ventured near enough to be observed.
Then, indeed, the girl came into the Ark and approached its end, just as
the little bark was turning from it, with a movement so light and steady
as to be almost imperceptible. An impulse of feeling now overcame her
timidity, and Hetty spoke.

“Goodbye Hurry—” she called out, in her sweet voice—“goodbye,
dear Hurry. Take care of yourself in the woods, and don’t stop once, ’til
you reach the garrison. The leaves on the trees are scarcely plentier than
the Hurons round the lake, and they’ll not treat a strong man like you as
kindly as they treat me.”

The ascendency which March had obtained over this feebleminded, but
right-thinking, and right-feeling girl, arose from a law of nature. Her
senses had been captivated by his personal advantages, and her moral
communications with him had never been sufficiently intimate to counteract
an effect that must have been otherwise lessened, even with one whose mind
was as obtuse as her own. Hetty’s instinct of right, if such a term can be
applied to one who seemed taught by some kind spirit how to steer her
course with unerring accuracy, between good and evil, would have revolted
at Hurry’s character on a thousand points, had there been opportunities to
enlighten her, but while he conversed and trifled with her sister, at a
distance from herself, his perfection of form and feature had been left to
produce their influence on her simple imagination and naturally tender
feelings, without suffering by the alloy of his opinions and coarseness.
It is true she found him rough and rude; but her father was that, and most
of the other men she had seen, and that which she believed to belong to
all of the sex struck her less unfavorably in Hurry’s character than it
might otherwise have done. Still, it was not absolutely love that Hetty
felt for Hurry, nor do we wish so to portray it, but merely that awakening
sensibility and admiration, which, under more propitious circumstances,
and always supposing no untoward revelations of character on the part of
the young man had supervened to prevent it, might soon have ripened into
that engrossing feeling. She felt for him an incipient tenderness, but
scarcely any passion. Perhaps the nearest approach to the latter that
Hetty had manifested was to be seen in the sensitiveness which had caused
her to detect March’s predilection for her sister, for, among Judith’s
many admirers, this was the only instance in which the dull mind of the
girl had been quickened into an observation of the circumstances.

Hurry received so little sympathy at his departure that the gentle tones
of Hetty, as she thus called after him, sounded soothingly. He checked the
canoe, and with one sweep of his powerful arm brought it back to the side
of the Ark. This was more than Hetty, whose courage had risen with the
departure of her hero, expected, and she now shrunk timidly back at this
unexpected return.

“You’re a good gal, Hetty, and I can’t quit you without shaking hands,”
said March kindly. “Judith, a’ter all, isn’t worth as much as you, though
she may be a trifle better looking. As to wits, if honesty and fair
dealing with a young man is a sign of sense in a young woman, you’re worth
a dozen Judiths; ay, and for that matter, most young women of my
acquaintance.”

“Don’t say any thing against Judith, Harry,” returned Hetty imploringly.
“Father’s gone, and mother’s gone, and nobody’s left but Judith and me,
and it isn’t right for sisters to speak evil, or to hear evil of each
other. Father’s in the lake, and so is mother, and we should all fear God,
for we don’t know when we may be in the lake, too.”

“That sounds reasonable, child, as does most you say. Well, if we ever
meet ag’in, Hetty, you’ll find a fri’nd in me, let your sister do what she
may. I was no great fri’nd of your mother I’ll allow, for we didn’t think
alike on most p’ints, but then your father, Old Tom, and I, fitted each
other as remarkably as a buckskin garment will fit any reasonable-built
man. I’ve always been unanimous of opinion that Old Floating Tom Hutter,
at the bottom, was a good fellow, and will maintain that ag’in all inimies
for his sake, as well as for your’n.”

“Goodbye, Hurry,” said Hetty, who now wanted to hasten the young man off,
as ardently as she had wished to keep him only the moment before, though
she could give no clearer account of the latter than of the former
feeling; “goodbye, Hurry; take care of yourself in the woods; don’t halt
’til you reach the garrison. I’ll read a chapter in the Bible for you
before I go to bed, and think of you in my prayers.”

This was touching a point on which March had no sympathies, and without
more words, he shook the girl cordially by the hand and re-entered the
canoe. In another minute the two adventurers were a hundred feet from the
Ark, and half a dozen had not elapsed before they were completely lost to
view. Hetty sighed deeply, and rejoined her sister and Hist.

For some time Deerslayer and his companion paddled ahead in silence. It
had been determined to land Hurry at the precise point where he is
represented, in the commencement of our tale, as having embarked, not only
as a place little likely to be watched by the Hurons, but because he was
sufficiently familiar with the signs of the woods, at that spot, to thread
his way through them in the dark. Thither, then, the light craft
proceeded, being urged as diligently and as swiftly as two vigorous and
skilful canoemen could force their little vessel through, or rather over,
the water. Less than a quarter of an hour sufficed for the object, and, at
the end of that time, being within the shadows of the shore, and quite
near the point they sought, each ceased his efforts in order to make their
parting communications out of earshot of any straggler who might happen to
be in the neighborhood.

“You will do well to persuade the officers at the garrison to lead out a
party ag’in these vagabonds as soon as you git in, Hurry,” Deerslayer
commenced; “and you’ll do better if you volunteer to guide it up yourself.
You know the paths, and the shape of the lake, and the natur’ of the land,
and can do it better than a common, gin’ralizing scout. Strike at the
Huron camp first, and follow the signs that will then show themselves. A
few looks at the hut and the Ark will satisfy you as to the state of the
Delaware and the women, and, at any rate, there’ll be a fine opportunity
to fall on the Mingo trail, and to make a mark on the memories of the
blackguards that they’ll be apt to carry with ’em a long time. It won’t be
likely to make much difference with me, since that matter will be
detarmined afore to-morrow’s sun has set, but it may make a great change
in Judith and Hetty’s hopes and prospects!”

“And as for yourself, Nathaniel,” Hurry enquired with more interest than
he was accustomed to betray in the welfare of others—“And, as for
yourself, what do you think is likely to turn up?”

“The Lord, in his wisdom, only can tell, Henry March! The clouds look
black and threatening, and I keep my mind in a state to meet the worst.
Vengeful feelin’s are uppermost in the hearts of the Mingos, and any
little disapp’intment about the plunder, or the prisoners, or Hist, may
make the torments sartain. The Lord, in his wisdom, can only detarmine my
fate, or your’n!”

“This is a black business, and ought to be put a stop to in some way or
other—” answered Hurry, confounding the distinctions between right
and wrong, as is usual with selfish and vulgar men. “I heartily wish old
Hutter and I had scalped every creatur’ in their camp, the night we first
landed with that capital object! Had you not held back, Deerslayer, it
might have been done, and then you wouldn’t have found yourself, at the
last moment, in the desperate condition you mention.”

“’Twould have been better had you said you wished you had never attempted
to do what it little becomes any white man’s gifts to undertake; in which
case, not only might we have kept from coming to blows, but Thomas Hutter
would now have been living, and the hearts of the savages would be less
given to vengeance. The death of that young woman, too, was on-called for,
Henry March, and leaves a heavy load on our names if not on our
consciences!”

This was so apparent, and it seemed so obvious to Hurry himself, at the
moment, that he dashed his paddle into the water, and began to urge the
canoe towards the shore, as if bent only on running away from his own
lively remorse. His companion humoured this feverish desire for change,
and, in a minute or two, the bows of the boat grated lightly on the
shingle of the beach. To land, shoulder his pack and rifle, and to get
ready for his march occupied Hurry but an instant, and with a growling
adieu, he had already commenced his march, when a sudden twinge of feeling
brought him to a dead stop, and immediately after to the other’s side.

“You cannot mean to give yourself up ag’in to them murdering savages,
Deerslayer!” he said, quite as much in angry remonstrance, as with
generous feeling. “’Twould be the act of a madman or a fool!”

“There’s them that thinks it madness to keep their words, and there’s them
that don’t, Hurry Harry. You may be one of the first, but I’m one of the
last. No red-skin breathing shall have it in his power to say that a Mingo
minds his word more than a man of white blood and white gifts, in any
thing that consarns me. I’m out on a furlough, and if I’ve strength and
reason, I’ll go in on a furlough afore noon to-morrow!”

“What’s an Injin, or a word passed, or a furlough taken from creatur’s
like them, that have neither souls, nor reason!”

“If they’ve got neither souls nor reason, you and I have both, Henry
March, and one is accountable for the other. This furlough is not, as you
seem to think, a matter altogether atween me and the Mingos, seeing it is
a solemn bargain made atween me and God. He who thinks that he can say
what he pleases, in his distress, and that twill all pass for nothing,
because ’tis uttered in the forest, and into red men’s ears, knows little
of his situation, and hopes, and wants. The woods are but the ears of the
Almighty, the air is his breath, and the light of the sun is little more
than a glance of his eye. Farewell, Harry; we may not meet ag’in, but I
would wish you never to treat a furlough, or any other solemn thing that
your Christian God has been called on to witness, as a duty so light that
it may be forgotten according to the wants of the body, or even accordin’
to the cravings of the spirit.”

March was now glad again to escape. It was quite impossible that he could
enter into the sentiments that ennobled his companion, and he broke away
from both with an impatience that caused him secretly to curse the folly
that could induce a man to rush, as it were, on his own destruction.
Deerslayer, on the contrary, manifested no such excitement. Sustained by
his principles, inflexible in the purpose of acting up to them, and
superior to any unmanly apprehension, he regarded all before him as a
matter of course, and no more thought of making any unworthy attempt to
avoid it, than a Mussulman thinks of counteracting the decrees of
Providence. He stood calmly on the shore, listening to the reckless tread
with which Hurry betrayed his progress through the bushes, shook his head
in dissatisfaction at the want of caution, and then stepped quietly into
his canoe. Before he dropped the paddle again into the water, the young
man gazed about him at the scene presented by the star-lit night. This was
the spot where he had first laid his eyes on the beautiful sheet of water
on which he floated. If it was then glorious in the bright light of a
summer’s noon-tide, it was now sad and melancholy under the shadows of
night. The mountains rose around it like black barriers to exclude the
outer world, and the gleams of pale light that rested on the broader parts
of the basin were no bad symbols of the faintness of the hopes that were
so dimly visible in his own future. Sighing heavily, he pushed the canoe
from the land, and took his way back with steady diligence towards the Ark
and the castle.


Chapter XXIV

Judith was waiting the return of Deerslayer on the platform, with stifled
impatience, when the latter reached the hut. Hist and Hetty were both in a
deep sleep, on the bed usually occupied by the two daughters of the house,
and the Delaware was stretched on the floor of the adjoining room, his
rifle at his side, and a blanket over him, already dreaming of the events
of the last few days. There was a lamp burning in the Ark, for the family
was accustomed to indulge in this luxury on extraordinary occasions, and
possessed the means, the vessel being of a form and material to render it
probable it had once been an occupant of the chest.

As soon as the girl got a glimpse of the canoe, she ceased her hurried
walk up and down the platform and stood ready to receive the young man,
whose return she had now been anxiously expecting for some time. She
helped him to fasten the canoe, and by aiding in the other little similar
employments, manifested her desire to reach a moment of liberty as soon as
possible. When this was done, in answer to an inquiry of his, she informed
him of the manner in which their companions had disposed of themselves. He
listened attentively, for the manner of the girl was so earnest and
impressive as to apprise him that she had something on her mind of more
than common concern.

“And now, Deerslayer,” Judith continued, “you see I have lighted the lamp,
and put it in the cabin of the Ark. That is never done with us, unless on
great occasions, and I consider this night as the most important of my
life. Will you follow me and see what I have to show you—hear what I
have to say.”

The hunter was a little surprised, but, making no objections, both were
soon in the scow, and in the room that contained the light. Here two
stools were placed at the side of the chest, with the lamp on another, and
a table near by to receive the different articles as they might be brought
to view. This arrangement had its rise in the feverish impatience of the
girl, which could brook no delay that it was in her power to obviate. Even
all the padlocks were removed, and it only remained to raise the heavy
lid, again, to expose all the treasures of this long secreted hoard.

“I see, in part, what all this means,” observed Deerslayer—“yes, I
see through it, in part. But why is not Hetty present? Now Thomas Hutter
is gone, she is one of the owners of these cur’osities, and ought to see
them opened and handled.”

“Hetty sleeps—” answered Judith, huskily. “Happily for her, fine
clothes and riches have no charms. Besides she has this night given her
share of all that the chest may hold to me, that I may do with it as I
please.”

“Is poor Hetty compass enough for that, Judith?” demanded the just-minded
young man. “It’s a good rule and a righteous one, never to take when them
that give don’t know the valie of their gifts; and such as God has visited
heavily in their wits ought to be dealt with as carefully as children that
haven’t yet come to their understandings.”

Judith was hurt at this rebuke, coming from the person it did, but she
would have felt it far more keenly had not her conscience fully acquitted
her of any unjust intentions towards her feeble-minded but confiding
sister. It was not a moment, however, to betray any of her usual mountings
of the spirit, and she smothered the passing sensation in the desire to
come to the great object she had in view.

“Hetty will not be wronged,” she mildly answered; “she even knows not only
what I am about to do, Deerslayer, but why I do it. So take your seat,
raise the lid of the chest, and this time we will go to the bottom. I
shall be disappointed if something is not found to tell us more of the
history of Thomas Hutter and my mother.”

“Why Thomas Hutter, Judith, and not your father? The dead ought to meet
with as much reverence as the living!”

“I have long suspected that Thomas Hutter was not my father, though I did
think he might have been Hetty’s, but now we know he was the father of
neither. He acknowledged that much in his dying moments. I am old enough
to remember better things than we have seen on this lake, though they are
so faintly impressed on my memory that the earlier part of my life seems
like a dream.”

“Dreams are but miserable guides when one has to detarmine about
realities, Judith,” returned the other admonishingly. “Fancy nothing and
hope nothing on their account, though I’ve known chiefs that thought ’em
useful.”

“I expect nothing for the future from them, my good friend, but cannot
help remembering what has been. This is idle, however, when half an hour
of examination may tell us all, or even more than I want to know.”

Deerslayer, who comprehended the girl’s impatience, now took his seat and
proceeded once more to bring to light the different articles that the
chest contained. As a matter of course, all that had been previously
examined were found where they had been last deposited, and they excited
much less interest or comment than when formerly exposed to view. Even
Judith laid aside the rich brocade with an air of indifference, for she
had a far higher aim before her than the indulgence of vanity, and was
impatient to come at the still hidden, or rather unknown, treasures.

“All these we have seen before,” she said, “and will not stop to open. The
bundle under your hand, Deerslayer, is a fresh one; that we will look
into. God send it may contain something to tell poor Hetty and myself who
we really are!”

“Ay, if some bundles could speak, they might tell wonderful secrets,”
returned the young man deliberately undoing the folds of another piece of
course canvass, in order to come at the contents of the roll that lay on
his knees: “though this doesn’t seem to be one of that family, seeing ’tis
neither more nor less than a sort of flag, though of what nation, it
passes my l’arnin’ to say.”

“That flag must have some meaning to it—” Judith hurriedly
interposed. “Open it wider, Deerslayer, that we may see the colours.”

“Well, I pity the ensign that has to shoulder this cloth, and to parade it
about on the field. Why ’tis large enough, Judith, to make a dozen of them
colours the King’s officers set so much store by. These can be no ensign’s
colours, but a gin’ral’s!”

“A ship might carry it, Deerslayer, and ships I know do use such things.
Have you never heard any fearful stories about Thomas Hutter’s having once
been concerned with the people they call buccaneers?”

“Buck-ah-near! Not I—not I—I never heard him mentioned as good
at a buck far off, or near by. Hurry Harry did till me something about its
being supposed that he had formerly, in some way or other, dealings with
sartain sea robbers, but, Lord, Judith, it can’t surely give you any
satisfaction to make out that ag’in your mother’s own husband, though he
isn’t your father.”

“Anything will give me satisfaction that tells me who I am, and helps to
explain the dreams of childhood. My mother’s husband! Yes, he must have
been that, though why a woman like her, should have chosen a man like him,
is more than mortal reason can explain. You never saw mother, Deerslayer,
and can’t feel the vast, vast difference there was between them!”

“Such things do happen, howsever;—yes, they do happen; though why
providence lets them come to pass is more than I understand. I’ve knew the
f’ercest warriors with the gentlest wives of any in the tribe, and awful
scolds fall to the lot of Injins fit to be missionaries.”

“That was not it, Deerslayer; that was not it. Oh! if it should prove that—no;
I cannot wish she should not have been his wife at all. That no daughter
can wish for her own mother! Go on, now, and let us see what the square
looking bundle holds.”

Deerslayer complied, and he found that it contained a small trunk of
pretty workmanship, but fastened. The next point was to find a key; but,
search proving ineffectual, it was determined to force the lock. This
Deerslayer soon effected by the aid of an iron instrument, and it was
found that the interior was nearly filled with papers. Many were letters;
some fragments of manuscripts, memorandums, accounts, and other similar
documents. The hawk does not pounce upon the chicken with a more sudden
swoop than Judith sprang forward to seize this mine of hitherto concealed
knowledge. Her education, as the reader will have perceived, was far
superior to her situation in life, and her eye glanced over page after
page of the letters with a readiness that her schooling supplied, and with
an avidity that found its origin in her feelings. At first it was evident
that the girl was gratified; and we may add with reason, for the letters
written by females, in innocence and affection, were of a character to
cause her to feel proud of those with whom she had every reason to think
she was closely connected by the ties of blood. It does not come within
the scope of our plan to give more of these epistles, however, than a
general idea of their contents, and this will best be done by describing
the effect they produced on the manner, appearance, and feeling of her who
was so eagerly perusing them.

It has been said, already, that Judith was much gratified with the letters
that first met her eye. They contained the correspondence of an
affectionate and intelligent mother to an absent daughter, with such
allusions to the answers as served in a great measure to fill up the
vacuum left by the replies. They were not without admonitions and
warnings, however, and Judith felt the blood mounting to her temples, and
a cold shudder succeeding, as she read one in which the propriety of the
daughter’s indulging in as much intimacy as had evidently been described
in one of the daughter’s own letters, with an officer “who came from
Europe, and who could hardly be supposed to wish to form an honorable
connection in America,” was rather coldly commented on by the mother. What
rendered it singular was the fact that the signatures had been carefully
cut from every one of these letters, and wherever a name occurred in the
body of the epistles it had been erased with so much diligence as to
render it impossible to read it. They had all been enclosed in envelopes,
according to the fashion of the age, and not an address either was to be
found. Still the letters themselves had been religiously preserved, and
Judith thought she could discover traces of tears remaining on several.
She now remembered to have seen the little trunk in her mother’s keeping,
previously to her death, and she supposed it had first been deposited in
the chest, along with the other forgotten or concealed objects, when the
letters could no longer contribute to that parent’s grief or happiness.

Next came another bundle, and these were filled with the protestations of
love, written with passion certainly, but also with that deceit which men
so often think it justifiable to use to the other sex. Judith had shed
tears abundantly over the first packet, but now she felt a sentiment of
indignation and pride better sustaining her. Her hand shook, however, and
cold shivers again passed through her frame, as she discovered a few
points of strong resemblance between these letters and some it had been
her own fate to receive. Once, indeed, she laid the packet down, bowed her
head to her knees, and seemed nearly convulsed. All this time Deerslayer
sat a silent but attentive observer of every thing that passed. As Judith
read a letter she put it into his hands to hold until she could peruse the
next; but this served in no degree to enlighten her companion, as he was
totally unable to read. Nevertheless he was not entirely at fault in
discovering the passions that were contending in the bosom of the fair
creature by his side, and, as occasional sentences escaped her in murmurs,
he was nearer the truth, in his divinations, or conjectures, than the girl
would have been pleased at discovering.

Judith had commenced with the earliest letters, luckily for a ready
comprehension of the tale they told, for they were carefully arranged in
chronological order, and to any one who would take the trouble to peruse
them, would have revealed a sad history of gratified passion, coldness,
and finally of aversion. As she obtained the clue to their import, her
impatience would not admit of delay, and she soon got to glancing her eyes
over a page by way of coming at the truth in the briefest manner possible.
By adopting this expedient, one to which all who are eager to arrive at
results without encumbering themselves with details are so apt to resort,
Judith made a rapid progress in these melancholy revelations of her
mother’s failing and punishment. She saw that the period of her own birth
was distinctly referred to, and even learned that the homely name she bore
was given her by the father, of whose person she retained so faint an
impression as to resemble a dream. This name was not obliterated from the
text of the letters, but stood as if nothing was to be gained by erasing
it. Hetty’s birth was mentioned once, and in that instance the name was
the mother’s, but ere this period was reached came the signs of coldness,
shadowing forth the desertion that was so soon to follow. It was in this
stage of the correspondence that her mother had recourse to the plan of
copying her own epistles. They were but few, but were eloquent with the
feelings of blighted affection, and contrition. Judith sobbed over them,
until again and again she felt compelled to lay them aside from sheer
physical inability to see; her eyes being literally obscured with tears.
Still she returned to the task, with increasing interest, and finally
succeeded in reaching the end of the latest communication that had
probably ever passed between her parents.

All this occupied fully an hour, for near a hundred letters were glanced
at, and some twenty had been closely read. The truth now shone clear upon
the acute mind of Judith, so far as her own birth and that of Hetty were
concerned. She sickened at the conviction, and for the moment the rest of
the world seemed to be cut off from her, and she had now additional
reasons for wishing to pass the remainder of her life on the lake, where
she had already seen so many bright and so many sorrowing days.

There yet remained more letters to examine. Judith found these were a
correspondence between her mother and Thomas Hovey. The originals of both
parties were carefully arranged, letter and answer, side by side; and they
told the early history of the connection between the ill-assorted pair far
more plainly than Judith wished to learn it. Her mother made the advances
towards a marriage, to the surprise, not to say horror of her daughter,
and she actually found a relief when she discovered traces of what struck
her as insanity—or a morbid desperation, bordering on that dire
calamity—in the earlier letters of that ill-fated woman. The answers
of Hovey were coarse and illiterate, though they manifested a sufficient
desire to obtain the hand of a woman of singular personal attractions, and
whose great error he was willing to overlook for the advantage of
possessing one every way so much his superior, and who it also appeared
was not altogether destitute of money. The remainder of this part of the
correspondence was brief, and it was soon confined to a few communications
on business, in which the miserable wife hastened the absent husband in
his preparations to abandon a world which there was a sufficient reason to
think was as dangerous to one of the parties as it was disagreeable to the
other. But a sincere expression had escaped her mother, by which Judith
could get a clue to the motives that had induced her to marry Hovey, or
Hutter, and this she found was that feeling of resentment which so often
tempts the injured to inflict wrongs on themselves by way of heaping coals
on the heads of those through whom they have suffered. Judith had enough
of the spirit of that mother to comprehend this sentiment, and for a
moment did she see the exceeding folly which permitted such revengeful
feelings to get the ascendancy.

There what may be called the historical part of the papers ceased. Among
the loose fragments, however, was an old newspaper that contained a
proclamation offering a reward for the apprehension of certain
free-booters by name, among which was that of Thomas Hovey. The attention
of the girl was drawn to the proclamation and to this particular name by
the circumstance that black lines had been drawn under both, in ink.
Nothing else was found among the papers that could lead to a discovery of
either the name or the place of residence of the wife of Hutter. All the
dates, signatures, and addresses had been cut from the letters, and
wherever a word occurred in the body of the communications that might
furnish a clue, it was scrupulously erased. Thus Judith found all her
hopes of ascertaining who her parents were defeated, and she was obliged
to fall back on her own resources and habits for everything connected with
the future. Her recollection of her mother’s manners, conversation, and
sufferings filled up many a gap in the historical facts she had now
discovered, and the truth, in its outlines, stood sufficiently distinct
before her to take away all desire, indeed, to possess any more details.
Throwing herself back in her seat, she simply desired her companion to
finish the examination of the other articles in the chest, as it might yet
contain something of importance.

“I’ll do it, Judith; I’ll do it,” returned the patient Deerslayer, “but if
there’s many more letters to read, we shall see the sun ag’in afore you’ve
got through with the reading of them! Two good hours have you been looking
at them bits of papers!”

“They tell me of my parents, Deerslayer, and have settled my plans for
life. A girl may be excused, who reads about her own father and mother,
and that too for the first time in her life! I am sorry to have kept you
waiting.”

“Never mind me, gal; never mind me. It matters little whether I sleep or
watch; but though you be pleasant to look at, and are so handsome, Judith,
it is not altogether agreeable to sit so long to behold you shedding
tears. I know that tears don’t kill, and that some people are better for
shedding a few now and then, especially young women; but I’d rather see
you smile any time, Judith, than see you weep.”

This gallant speech was rewarded with a sweet, though a melancholy smile;
and then the girl again desired her companion to finish the examination of
the chest. The search necessarily continued some time, during which Judith
collected her thoughts and regained her composure. She took no part in the
search, leaving everything to the young man, looking listlessly herself at
the different articles that came uppermost. Nothing further of much
interest or value, however, was found. A sword or two, such as were then
worn by gentlemen, some buckles of silver, or so richly plated as to
appear silver, and a few handsome articles of female dress, composed the
principal discoveries. It struck both Judith and the Deerslayer,
notwithstanding, that some of these things might be made useful in
effecting a negotiation with the Iroquois, though the latter saw a
difficulty in the way that was not so apparent to the former. The
conversation was first renewed in connection with this point.

“And now, Deerslayer,” said Judith, “we may talk of yourself, and of the
means of getting you out of the hands of the Hurons. Any part, or all of
what you have seen in the chest, will be cheerfully given by me and Hetty
to set you at liberty.”

“Well, that’s gin’rous,—yes, ’tis downright free-hearted, and
free-handed, and gin’rous. This is the way with women; when they take up a
fri’ndship, they do nothing by halves, but are as willing to part with
their property as if it had no value in their eyes. However, while I thank
you both, just as much as if the bargain was made, and Rivenoak, or any of
the other vagabonds, was here to accept and close the treaty, there’s two
principal reasons why it can never come to pass, which may be as well told
at once, in order no onlikely expectations may be raised in you, or any
onjustifiable hopes in me.”

“What reason can there be, if Hetty and I are willing to part with the
trifles for your sake, and the savages are willing to receive them?”

“That’s it, Judith; you’ve got the idees, but they’re a little out of
their places, as if a hound should take the back’ard instead of the
leading scent. That the Mingos will be willing to receive them things, or
any more like ’em you may have to offer is probable enough, but whether
they’ll pay valie for ’em is quite another matter. Ask yourself, Judith,
if any one should send you a message to say that, for such or such a
price, you and Hetty might have that chist and all it holds, whether you’d
think it worth your while to waste many words on the bargain?”

“But this chest and all it holds, are already ours; there is no reason why
we should purchase what is already our own.”

“Just so the Mingos caculate! They say the chist is theirn, already; or,
as good as theirn, and they’ll not thank anybody for the key.”

“I understand you, Deerslayer; surely we are yet in possession of the
lake, and we can keep possession of it until Hurry sends troops to drive
off the enemy. This we may certainly do provided you will stay with us,
instead of going back and giving yourself up a prisoner, again, as you now
seem determined on.”

“That Hurry Harry should talk in this-a-way, is nat’ral, and according to
the gifts of the man. He knows no better, and, therefore, he is little
likely to feel or to act any better; but, Judith, I put it to your heart
and conscience—would you, could you think of me as favorably, as I
hope and believe you now do, was I to forget my furlough and not go back
to the camp?”

“To think more favorably of you than I now do, Deerslayer, would not be
easy; but I might continue to think as favorably—at least it seems
so—I hope I could, for a world wouldn’t tempt me to let you do
anything that might change my real opinion of you.”

“Then don’t try to entice me to overlook my furlough, gal! A furlough is a
sacred thing among warriors and men that carry their lives in their hands,
as we of the forests do, and what a grievous disapp’intment would it be to
old Tamenund, and to Uncas, the father of the Sarpent, and to my other
fri’nds in the tribe, if I was so to disgrace myself on my very first
war-path. This you will pairceive, moreover, Judith, is without laying any
stress on nat’ral gifts, and a white man’s duties, to say nothing of
conscience. The last is king with me, and I try never to dispute his
orders.”

“I believe you are right, Deerslayer,” returned the girl, after a little
reflection and in a saddened voice: “a man like you ought not to act as
the selfish and dishonest would be apt to act; you must, indeed, go back.
We will talk no more of this, then. Should I persuade you to anything for
which you would be sorry hereafter, my own regret would not be less than
yours. You shall not have it to say, Judith—I scarce know by what
name to call myself, now!”

“And why not? Why not, gal? Children take the names of their parents,
nat’rally, and by a sort of gift, like, and why shouldn’t you and Hetty do
as others have done afore ye? Hutter was the old man’s name, and Hutter
should be the name of his darters;—at least until you are given away
in lawful and holy wedlock.”

“I am Judith, and Judith only,” returned the girl positively—“until
the law gives me a right to another name. Never will I use that of Thomas
Hutter again; nor, with my consent, shall Hetty! Hutter was not even his
own name, I find, but had he a thousand rights to it, it would give none
to me. He was not my father, thank heaven; though I may have no reason to
be proud of him that was!”

“This is strange!” said Deerslayer, looking steadily at the excited girl,
anxious to know more, but unwilling to inquire into matters that did not
properly concern him; “yes, this is very strange and oncommon! Thomas
Hutter wasn’t Thomas Hutter, and his darters weren’t his darters! Who,
then, could Thomas Hutter be, and who are his darters?”

“Did you never hear anything whispered against the former life of this
person, Deerslayer?” demanded Judith “Passing, as I did, for his child,
such reports reached even me.”

“I’ll not deny it, Judith; no, I’ll not deny it. Sartain things have been
said, as I’ve told you, but I’m not very credible as to reports. Young as
I am, I’ve lived long enough to l’arn there’s two sorts of characters in
the world—them that is ‘arned by deeds, and them that is ‘arned by
tongues, and so I prefar to see and judge for myself, instead of letting
every jaw that chooses to wag become my judgment. Hurry Harry spoke pretty
plainly of the whole family, as we journeyed this-a-way, and he did hint
something consarning Thomas Hutter’s having been a free-liver on the
water, in his younger days. By free-liver, I mean that he made free to
live on other men’s goods.”

“He told you he was a pirate—there is no need of mincing matters
between friends. Read that, Deerslayer, and you will see that he told you
no more than the truth. This Thomas Hovey was the Thomas Hutter you knew,
as is seen by these letters.”

As Judith spoke, with a flushed cheek and eyes dazzling with the
brilliancy of excitement, she held the newspaper towards her companion,
pointing to the proclamation of a Colonial Governor, already mentioned.

“Bless you, Judith!” answered the other laughing, “you might as well ask
me to print that—or, for that matter to write it. My edication has
been altogether in the woods; the only book I read, or care about reading,
is the one which God has opened afore all his creatur’s in the noble
forests, broad lakes, rolling rivers, blue skies, and the winds and
tempests, and sunshine, and other glorious marvels of the land! This book
I can read, and I find it full of wisdom and knowledge.”

“I crave your pardon, Deerslayer,” said Judith, earnestly, more abashed
than was her wont, in finding that she had in advertently made an appeal
that might wound her companion’s pride. “I had forgotten your manner of
life, and least of all did I wish to hurt your feelings.”

“Hurt my feelin’s? Why should it hurt my feelin’s to ask me to read, when
I can’t read. I’m a hunter—and I may now begin to say a warrior, and
no missionary, and therefore books and papers are of no account with such
as I—No, no—Judith,” and here the young man laughed cordially,
“not even for wads, seeing that your true deerkiller always uses the hide
of a fa’a’n, if he’s got one, or some other bit of leather suitably
prepared. There’s some that do say, all that stands in print is true, in
which case I’ll own an unl’arned man must be somewhat of a loser;
nevertheless, it can’t be truer than that which God has printed with his
own hand in the sky, and the woods, and the rivers, and the springs.”

“Well, then, Hutter, or Hovey, was a pirate, and being no father of mine,
I cannot wish to call him one. His name shall no longer be my name.”

“If you dislike the name of that man, there’s the name of your mother,
Judith. Her’n may sarve you just as good a turn.”

“I do not know it. I’ve look’d through those papers, Deerslayer, in the
hope of finding some hint by which I might discover who my mother was, but
there is no more trace of the past, in that respect, than the bird leaves
in the air.”

“That’s both oncommon, and onreasonable. Parents are bound to give their
offspring a name, even though they give ’em nothing else. Now I come of a
humble stock, though we have white gifts and a white natur’, but we are
not so poorly off as to have no name. Bumppo we are called, and I’ve heard
it said—” a touch of human vanity glowing on his cheek, “that the
time has been when the Bumppos had more standing and note among mankind
than they have just now.”

“They never deserved them more, Deerslayer, and the name is a good one;
either Hetty, or myself, would a thousand times rather be called Hetty
Bumppo, or Judith Bumppo, than to be called Hetty or Judith Hutter.”

“That’s a moral impossible,” returned the hunter, good humouredly, “onless
one of you should so far demean herself as to marry me.”

Judith could not refrain from smiling, when she found how simply and
naturally the conversation had come round to the very point at which she
had aimed to bring it. Although far from unfeminine or forward, either in
her feelings or her habits, the girl was goaded by a sense of wrongs not
altogether merited, incited by the hopelessness of a future that seemed to
contain no resting place, and still more influenced by feelings that were
as novel to her as they proved to be active and engrossing. The opening
was too good, therefore, to be neglected, though she came to the subject
with much of the indirectness and perhaps justifiable address of a woman.

“I do not think Hetty will ever marry, Deerslayer,” she said, “and if your
name is to be borne by either of us, it must be borne by me.”

“There’s been handsome women too, they tell me, among the Bumppos, Judith,
afore now, and should you take up with the name, oncommon as you be in
this particular, them that knows the family won’t be altogether
surprised.”

“This is not talking as becomes either of us, Deerslayer, for whatever is
said on such a subject, between man and woman, should be said seriously
and in sincerity of heart. Forgetting the shame that ought to keep girls
silent until spoken to, in most cases, I will deal with you as frankly as
I know one of your generous nature will most like to be dealt by. Can you—do
you think, Deerslayer, that you could be happy with such a wife as a woman
like myself would make?”

“A woman like you, Judith! But where’s the sense in trifling about such a
thing? A woman like you, that is handsome enough to be a captain’s lady,
and fine enough, and so far as I know edicated enough, would be little apt
to think of becoming my wife. I suppose young gals that feel themselves to
be smart, and know themselves to be handsome, find a sartain satisfaction
in passing their jokes ag’in them that’s neither, like a poor Delaware
hunter.”

This was said good naturedly, but not without a betrayal of feeling which
showed that something like mortified sensibility was blended with the
reply. Nothing could have occurred more likely to awaken all Judith’s
generous regrets, or to aid her in her purpose, by adding the stimulant of
a disinterested desire to atone to her other impulses, and cloaking all
under a guise so winning and natural, as greatly to lessen the unpleasant
feature of a forwardness unbecoming the sex.

“You do me injustice if you suppose I have any such thought, or wish,” she
answered, earnestly. “Never was I more serious in my life, or more willing
to abide by any agreement that we may make to-night. I have had many
suitors, Deerslayer—nay, scarce an unmarried trapper or hunter has
been in at the Lake these four years, who has not offered to take me away
with him, and I fear some that were married, too—”

“Ay, I’ll warrant that!” interrupted the other—“I’ll warrant all
that! Take ’em as a body, Judith, ‘arth don’t hold a set of men more given
to theirselves, and less given to God and the law.”

“Not one of them would I—could I listen to; happily for myself
perhaps, has it been that such was the case. There have been well looking
youths among them too, as you may have seen in your acquaintance, Henry
March.”

“Yes, Harry is sightly to the eye, though, to my idees, less so to the
judgment. I thought, at first, you meant to have him, Judith, I did; but
afore he went, it was easy enough to verify that the same lodge wouldn’t
be big enough for you both.”

“You have done me justice in that at least, Deerslayer. Hurry is a man I
could never marry, though he were ten times more comely to the eye, and a
hundred times more stout of heart than he really is.”

“Why not, Judith, why not? I own I’m cur’ous to know why a youth like
Hurry shouldn’t find favor with a maiden like you?”

“Then you shall know, Deerslayer,” returned the girl, gladly availing
herself of the opportunity of indirectly extolling the qualities which had
so strongly interested her in her listener; hoping by these means covertly
to approach the subject nearest her heart. “In the first place, looks in a
man are of no importance with a woman, provided he is manly, and not
disfigured, or deformed.”

“There I can’t altogether agree with you,” returned the other
thoughtfully, for he had a very humble opinion of his own personal
appearance; “I have noticed that the comeliest warriors commonly get the
best-looking maidens of the tribe for wives, and the Sarpent, yonder, who
is sometimes wonderful in his paint, is a gineral favorite with all the
Delaware young women, though he takes to Hist, himself, as if she was the
only beauty on ‘arth!”

“It may be so with Indians; but it is different with white girls. So long
as a young man has a straight and manly frame, that promises to make him
able to protect a woman, and to keep want from the door, it is all they
ask of the figure. Giants like Hurry may do for grenadiers, but are of
little account as lovers. Then as to the face, an honest look, one that
answers for the heart within, is of more value than any shape or colour,
or eyes, or teeth, or trifles like them. The last may do for girls, but
who thinks of them at all, in a hunter, or a warrior, or a husband? If
there are women so silly, Judith is not among them.”

“Well, this is wonderful! I always thought that handsome liked handsome,
as riches love riches!”

“It may be so with you men, Deerslayer, but it is not always so with us
women. We like stout-hearted men, but we wish to see them modest; sure on
a hunt, or the war-path, ready to die for the right, and unwilling to
yield to the wrong. Above all we wish for honesty—tongues that are
not used to say what the mind does not mean, and hearts that feel a little
for others, as well as for themselves. A true-hearted girl could die for
such a husband! while the boaster, and the double-tongued suitor gets to
be as hateful to the sight, as he is to the mind.”

Judith spoke bitterly, and with her usual force, but her listener was too
much struck with the novelty of the sensations he experienced to advert to
her manner. There was something so soothing to the humility of a man of
his temperament, to hear qualities that he could not but know he possessed
himself, thus highly extolled by the loveliest female he had ever beheld,
that, for the moment, his faculties seemed suspended in a natural and
excusable pride. Then it was that the idea of the possibility of such a
creature as Judith becoming his companion for life first crossed his mind.
The image was so pleasant, and so novel, that he continued completely
absorbed by it for more than a minute, totally regardless of the beautiful
reality that was seated before him, watching the expression of his upright
and truth-telling countenance with a keenness that gave her a very fair,
if not an absolutely accurate clue to his thoughts. Never before had so
pleasing a vision floated before the mind’s eye of the young hunter, but,
accustomed most to practical things, and little addicted to submitting to
the power of his imagination, even while possessed of so much true
poetical feeling in connection with natural objects in particular, he soon
recovered his reason, and smiled at his own weakness, as the fancied
picture faded from his mental sight, and left him the simple, untaught,
but highly moral being he was, seated in the Ark of Thomas Hutter, at
midnight, with the lovely countenance of its late owner’s reputed
daughter, beaming on him with anxious scrutiny, by the light of the
solitary lamp.

“You’re wonderful handsome, and enticing, and pleasing to look on,
Judith!” he exclaimed, in his simplicity, as fact resumed its ascendency
over fancy. “Wonderful! I don’t remember ever to have seen so beautiful a
gal, even among the Delawares; and I’m not astonished that Hurry Harry
went away soured as well as disapp’inted!”

“Would you have had me, Deerslayer, become the wife of such a man as Henry
March?”

“There’s that which is in his favor, and there’s that which is ag’in him.
To my taste, Hurry wouldn’t make the best of husbands, but I fear that the
tastes of most young women, hereaway, wouldn’t be so hard upon him.”

“No—no—Judith without a name would never consent to be called
Judith March! Anything would be better than that.”

“Judith Bumppo wouldn’t sound as well, gal; and there’s many names that
would fall short of March, in pleasing the ear.”

“Ah! Deerslayer, the pleasantness of the sound, in such cases, doesn’t
come through the ear, but through the heart. Everything is agreeable, when
the heart is satisfied. Were Natty Bumppo, Henry March, and Henry March,
Natty Bumppo, I might think the name of March better than it is; or were
he, you, I should fancy the name of Bumppo horrible!”

“That’s just it—yes, that’s the reason of the matter. Now, I’m
nat’rally avarse to sarpents, and I hate even the word, which, the
missionaries tell me, comes from human natur’, on account of a sartain
sarpent at the creation of the ‘arth, that outwitted the first woman; yet,
ever since Chingachgook has ‘arned the title he bears, why the sound is as
pleasant to my ears as the whistle of the whippoorwill of a calm evening—it
is. The feelin’s make all the difference in the world, Judith, in the
natur’ of sounds; ay, even in that of looks, too.”

“This is so true, Deerslayer, that I am surprised you should think it
remarkable a girl, who may have some comeliness herself, should not think
it necessary that her husband should have the same advantage, or what you
fancy an advantage. To me, looks in a man is nothing provided his
countenance be as honest as his heart.”

“Yes, honesty is a great advantage, in the long run; and they that are the
most apt to forget it in the beginning, are the most apt to l’arn it in
the ind. Nevertheless, there’s more, Judith, that look to present profit
than to the benefit that is to come after a time. One they think a
sartainty, and the other an onsartainty. I’m glad, howsever, that you look
at the thing in its true light, and not in the way in which so many is apt
to deceive themselves.”

“I do thus look at it, Deerslayer,” returned the girl with emphasis, still
shrinking with a woman’s sensitiveness from a direct offer of her hand,
“and can say, from the bottom of my heart, that I would rather trust my
happiness to a man whose truth and feelings may be depended on, than to a
false-tongued and false-hearted wretch that had chests of gold, and houses
and lands—yes, though he were even seated on a throne!”

“These are brave words, Judith; they’re downright brave words; but do you
think that the feelin’s would keep ’em company, did the ch’ice actually
lie afore you? If a gay gallant in a scarlet coat stood on one side, with
his head smelling like a deer’s foot, his face smooth and blooming as your
own, his hands as white and soft as if God hadn’t bestowed ’em that man
might live by the sweat of his brow, and his step as lofty as
dancing-teachers and a light heart could make it; and the other side stood
one that has passed his days in the open air till his forehead is as red
as his cheek; had cut his way through swamps and bushes till his hand was
as rugged as the oaks he slept under; had trodden on the scent of game
till his step was as stealthy as the catamount’s, and had no other
pleasant odor about him than such as natur’ gives in the free air and the
forest—now, if both these men stood here, as suitors for your
feelin’s, which do you think would win your favor?”

Judith’s fine face flushed, for the picture that her companion had so
simply drawn of a gay officer of the garrisons had once been particularly
grateful to her imagination, though experience and disappointment had not
only chilled all her affections, but given them a backward current, and
the passing image had a momentary influence on her feelings; but the
mounting colour was succeeded by a paleness so deadly, as to make her
appear ghastly.

“As God is my judge,” the girl solemnly answered, “did both these men
stand before me, as I may say one of them does, my choice, if I know my
own heart, would be the latter. I have no wish for a husband who is any
way better than myself.”

“This is pleasant to listen to, and might lead a young man in time to
forget his own onworthiness, Judith! Howsever, you hardly think all that
you say. A man like me is too rude and ignorant for one that has had such
a mother to teach her. Vanity is nat’ral, I do believe, but vanity like
that, would surpass reason.”

“Then you do not know of what a woman’s heart is capable! Rude you are
not, Deerslayer, nor can one be called ignorant that has studied what is
before his eyes as closely as you have done. When the affections are
concerned, all things appear in their pleasantest colors, and trifles are
overlooked, or are forgotten. When the heart feels sunshine, nothing is
gloomy, even dull looking objects, seeming gay and bright, and so it would
be between you and the woman who should love you, even though your wife
might happen, in some matters, to possess what the world calls the
advantage over you.”

“Judith, you come of people altogether above mine, in the world, and
onequal matches, like onequal fri’ndships can’t often tarminate kindly. I
speak of this matter altogether as a fanciful thing, since it’s not very
likely that you, at least, would be apt to treat it as a matter that can
ever come to pass.”

Judith fastened her deep blue eyes on the open, frank countenance of her
companion, as if she would read his soul. Nothing there betrayed any
covert meaning, and she was obliged to admit to herself, that he regarded
the conversation as argumentative, rather than positive, and that he was
still without any active suspicion that her feelings were seriously
involved in the issue. At first, she felt offended; then she saw the
injustice of making the self-abasement and modesty of the hunter a charge
against him, and this novel difficulty gave a piquancy to the state of
affairs that rather increased her interest in the young man. At that
critical instant, a change of plan flashed on her mind, and with a
readiness of invention that is peculiar to the quick-witted and ingenious,
she adopted a scheme by which she hoped effectually to bind him to her
person. This scheme partook equally of her fertility of invention, and of
the decision and boldness of her character. That the conversation might
not terminate too abruptly, however, or any suspicion of her design exist,
she answered the last remark of Deerslayer, as earnestly and as truly as
if her original intention remained unaltered.

“I, certainly, have no reason to boast of parentage, after what I have
seen this night,” said the girl, in a saddened voice. “I had a mother, it
is true; but of her name even, I am ignorant—and, as for my father,
it is better, perhaps, that I should never know who he was, lest I speak
too bitterly of him!”

“Judith,” said Deerslayer, taking her hand kindly, and with a manly
sincerity that went directly to the girl’s heart, “tis better to say no
more to-night. Sleep on what you’ve seen and felt; in the morning things
that now look gloomy, may look more che’rful. Above all, never do anything
in bitterness, or because you feel as if you’d like to take revenge on
yourself for other people’s backslidings. All that has been said or done
atween us, this night, is your secret, and shall never be talked of by me,
even with the Sarpent, and you may be sartain if he can’t get it out of me
no man can. If your parents have been faulty, let the darter be less so;
remember that you’re young, and the youthful may always hope for better
times; that you’re more quick-witted than usual, and such gin’rally get
the better of difficulties, and that, as for beauty, you’re oncommon,
which is an advantage with all. It is time to get a little rest, for
to-morrow is like to prove a trying day to some of us.”

Deerslayer arose as he spoke, and Judith had no choice but to comply. The
chest was closed and secured, and they parted in silence, she to take her
place by the side of Hist and Hetty, and he to seek a blanket on the floor
of the cabin he was in. It was not five minutes ere the young man was in a
deep sleep, but the girl continued awake for a long time. She scarce knew
whether to lament, or to rejoice, at having failed in making herself
understood. On the one hand were her womanly sensibilities spared; on the
other was the disappointment of defeated, or at least of delayed
expectations, and the uncertainty of a future that looked so dark. Then
came the new resolution, and the bold project for the morrow, and when
drowsiness finally shut her eyes, they closed on a scene of success and
happiness, that was pictured by the fancy, under the influence of a
sanguine temperament, and a happy invention.


Chapter XXV

Hist and Hetty arose with the return of light, leaving Judith still buried
in sleep. It took but a minute for the first to complete her toilet. Her
long coal-black hair was soon adjusted in a simple knot, the calico dress
belted tight to her slender waist, and her little feet concealed in their
gaudily ornamented moccasins. When attired, she left her companion
employed in household affairs, and went herself on the platform to breathe
the pure air of the morning. Here she found Chingachgook studying the
shores of the lake, the mountains and the heavens, with the sagacity of a
man of the woods, and the gravity of an Indian.

The meeting between the two lovers was simple, but affectionate. The chief
showed a manly kindness, equally removed from boyish weakness and haste,
while the girl betrayed, in her smile and half averted looks, the bashful
tenderness of her sex. Neither spoke, unless it were with the eyes, though
each understood the other as fully as if a vocabulary of words and
protestations had been poured out. Hist seldom appeared to more advantage
than at that moment, for just from her rest and ablutions, there was a
freshness about her youthful form and face that the toils of the wood do
not always permit to be exhibited, by even the juvenile and pretty. Then
Judith had not only imparted some of her own skill in the toilet, during
their short intercourse, but she had actually bestowed a few well selected
ornaments from her own stores, that contributed not a little to set off
the natural graces of the Indian maid. All this the lover saw and felt,
and for a moment his countenance was illuminated with a look of pleasure,
but it soon grew grave again, and became saddened and anxious. The stools
used the previous night were still standing on the platform; placing two
against the walls of the hut, he seated himself on one, making a gesture
to his companion to take the other. This done, he continued thoughtful and
silent for quite a minute, maintaining the reflecting dignity of one born
to take his seat at the council-fire, while Hist was furtively watching
the expression of his face, patient and submissive, as became a woman of
her people. Then the young warrior stretched his arm before him, as if to
point out the glories of the scene at that witching hour, when the whole
panorama, as usual, was adorned by the mellow distinctness of early
morning, sweeping with his hand slowly over lake, hills and heavens. The
girl followed the movement with pleased wonder, smiling as each new beauty
met her gaze.

“Hugh!” exclaimed the chief, in admiration of a scene so unusual even to
him, for this was the first lake he had ever beheld. “This is the country
of the Manitou! It is too good for Mingos, Hist; but the curs of that
tribe are howling in packs through the woods. They think that the
Delawares are asleep, over the mountains.”

“All but one of them is, Chingachgook. There is one here; and he is of the
blood of Uncas!”

“What is one warrior against a tribe? The path to our villages is very
long and crooked, and we shall travel it under a cloudy sky. I am afraid,
too, Honeysuckle of the Hills, that we shall travel it alone!”

Hist understood the allusion, and it made her sad; though it sounded sweet
to her ears to be compared, by the warrior she so loved, to the most
fragrant and the pleasantest of all the wild flowers of her native woods.
Still she continued silent, as became her when the allusion was to a grave
interest that men could best control, though it exceeded the power of
education to conceal the smile that gratified feeling brought to her
pretty mouth.

“When the sun is thus,” continued the Delaware, pointing to the zenith, by
simply casting upward a hand and finger, by a play of the wrist, “the
great hunter of our tribe will go back to the Hurons to be treated like a
bear, that they roast and skin even on full stomachs.”

“The Great Spirit may soften their hearts, and not suffer them to be so
bloody minded. I have lived among the Hurons, and know them. They have
hearts, and will not forget their own children, should they fall into the
hands of the Delawares.”

“A wolf is forever howling; a hog will always eat. They have lost
warriors; even their women will call out for vengeance. The pale-face has
the eyes of an eagle, and can see into a Mingo’s heart; he looks for no
mercy. There is a cloud over his spirit, though it is not before his
face.”

A long, thoughtful pause succeeded, during which Hist stealthily took the
hand of the chief, as if seeking his support, though she scarce ventured
to raise her eyes to a countenance that was now literally becoming
terrible, under the conflicting passions and stern resolution that were
struggling in the breast of its owner.

“What will the Son of Uncas do?” the girl at length timidly asked. “He is
a chief, and is already celebrated in council, though so young; what does
his heart tell him is wisest; does the head, too, speak the same words as
the heart?”

“What does Wah-ta-Wah say, at a moment when my dearest friend is in such
danger. The smallest birds sing the sweetest; it is always pleasant to
hearken to their songs. I wish I could hear the Wren of the Woods in my
difficulty; its note would reach deeper than the ear.”

Again Hist experienced the profound gratification that the language of
praise can always awaken when uttered by those we love. The ‘Honeysuckle
of the Hills’ was a term often applied to the girl by the young men of the
Delawares, though it never sounded so sweet in her ears as from the lips
of Chingachgook; but the latter alone had ever styled her the Wren of the
Woods. With him, however, it had got to be a familiar phrase, and it was
past expression pleasant to the listener, since it conveyed to her mind
the idea that her advice and sentiments were as acceptable to her future
husband, as the tones of her voice and modes of conveying them were
agreeable; uniting the two things most prized by an Indian girl, as coming
from her betrothed, admiration for a valued physical advantage, with
respect for her opinion. She pressed the hand she held between both her
own, and answered—

“Wah-ta-Wah says that neither she nor the Great Serpent could ever laugh
again, or ever sleep without dreaming of the Hurons, should the Deerslayer
die under a Mingo tomahawk, and they do nothing to save him. She would
rather go back, and start on her long path alone, than let such a dark
cloud pass before her happiness.”

“Good! The husband and the wife will have but one heart; they will see
with the same eyes, and feel with the same feelings.”

What further was said need not be related here. That the conversation was
of Deerslayer, and his hopes, has been seen already, but the decision that
was come to will better appear in the course of the narrative. The
youthful pair were yet conversing when the sun appeared above the tops of
the pines, and the light of a brilliant American day streamed down into
the valley, bathing “in deep joy” the lake, the forests and the mountain
sides. Just at this instant Deerslayer came out of the cabin of the Ark
and stepped upon the platform. His first look was at the cloudless
heavens, then his rapid glance took in the entire panorama of land and
water, when he had leisure for a friendly nod at his friends, and a
cheerful smile for Hist.

“Well,” he said, in his usual, composed manner, and pleasant voice, “he
that sees the sun set in the west, and wakes ‘arly enough in the morning
will be sartain to find him coming back ag’in in the east, like a buck
that is hunted round his ha’nt. I dare say, now, Hist, you’ve beheld this,
time and ag’in, and yet it never entered into your galish mind to ask the
reason?”

Both Chingachgook and his betrothed looked up at the luminary, with an air
that betokened sudden wonder, and then they gazed at each other, as if to
seek the solution of the difficulty. Familiarity deadens the sensibilities
even as connected with the gravest natural phenomena, and never before had
these simple beings thought of enquiring into a movement that was of daily
occurrence, however puzzling it might appear on investigation. When the
subject was thus suddenly started, it struck both alike, and at the same
instant, with some such force, as any new and brilliant proposition in the
natural sciences would strike the scholar. Chingachgook alone saw fit to
answer.

“The pale-faces know everything,” he said; “can they tell us why the sun
hides his face, when he goes back, at night.”

“Ay, that is downright red-skin l’arnin’” returned the other, laughing,
though he was not altogether insensible to the pleasure of proving the
superiority of his race by solving the difficulty, which he set about
doing in his own peculiar manner. “Harkee, Sarpent,” he continued more
gravely, though too simply for affectation; “this is easierly explained
than an Indian brain may fancy. The sun, while he seems to keep traveling
in the heavens, never budges, but it is the ‘arth that turns round, and
any one can understand, if he is placed on the side of a mill-wheel, for
instance, when it’s in motion, that he must some times see the heavens,
while he is at other times under water. There’s no great secret in that;
but plain natur’; the difficulty being in setting the ‘arth in motion.”

“How does my brother know that the earth turns round?” demanded the
Indian. “Can he see it?”

“Well, that’s been a puzzler, I will own, Delaware, for I’ve often tried,
but never could fairly make it out. Sometimes I’ve consaited that I could;
and then ag’in, I’ve been obliged to own it an onpossibility. Howsever,
turn it does, as all my people say, and you ought to believe ’em, since
they can foretell eclipses, and other prodigies, that used to fill the
tribes with terror, according to your own traditions of such things.”

“Good. This is true; no red man will deny it. When a wheel turns, my eyes
can see it—they do not see the earth turn.”

“Ay, that’s what I call sense obstinacy! Seeing is believing, they say,
and what they can’t see, some men won’t in the least give credit to.
Neverthless, chief, that isn’t quite as good reason as it mayat first
seem. You believe in the Great Spirit, I know, and yet, I conclude, it
would puzzle you to show where you see him!”

“Chingachgook can see Him everywhere—everywhere in good things—the
Evil Spirit in bad. Here, in the lake; there, in the forest; yonder, in
the clouds; in Hist, in the Son of Uncas, in Tannemund, in Deerslayer. The
Evil Spirit is in the Mingos. That I see; I do not see the earth turn
round.”

“I don’t wonder they call you the Sarpent, Delaware; no, I don’t! There’s
always a meaning in your words, and there’s often a meaning in your
countenance, too! Notwithstanding, your answers doesn’t quite meet my
idee. That God is observable in all nat’ral objects is allowable, but then
he is not perceptible in the way I mean. You know there is a Great Spirit
by his works, and the pale-faces know that the ‘arth turns round by its
works. This is the reason of the matter, though how it is to be explained
is more than I can exactly tell you. This I know; all my people consait
that fact, and what all the pale-faces consait, is very likely to be
true.”

“When the sun is in the top of that pine to-morrow, where will my brother
Deerslayer be?”

The hunter started, and he looked intently, though totally without alarm,
at his friend. Then he signed for him to follow, and led the way into the
Ark, where he might pursue the subject unheard by those whose feelings he
feared might get the mastery over their reason. Here he stopped, and
pursued the conversation in a more confidential tone.

“’Twas a little onreasonable in you Sarpent,” he said, “to bring up such a
subject afore Hist, and when the young women of my own colour might
overhear what was said. Yes, ’twas a little more onreasonable than most
things that you do. No matter; Hist didn’t comprehend, and the other
didn’t hear. Howsever, the question is easier put than answered. No mortal
can say where he will be when the sun rises to-morrow. I will ask you the
same question, Sarpent, and should like to hear what answer you can give.”

“Chingachgook will be with his friend Deerslayer—if he be in the
land of spirits, the Great Serpent will crawl at his side; if beneath
yonder sun, its warmth and light shall fall on both.”

“I understand you, Delaware,” returned the other, touched with the simple
self-devotion of his friend, “Such language is as plain in one tongue as
in another. It comes from the heart, and goes to the heart, too. ‘Tis well
to think so, and it may be well to say so, for that matter, but it would
not be well to do so, Sarpent. You are no longer alone in life, for though
you have the lodges to change, and other ceremonies to go through, afore
Hist becomes your lawful wife, yet are you as good as married in all that
bears on the feelin’s, and joy, and misery. No—no—Hist must
not be desarted, because a cloud is passing atween you and me, a little
onexpectedly and a little darker than we may have looked for.”

“Hist is a daughter of the Mohicans. She knows how to obey her husband.
Where he goes, she will follow. Both will be with the Great Hunter of the
Delawares, when the sun shall be in the pine to-morrow.”

“The Lord bless and protect you! Chief, this is downright madness. Can
either, or both of you, alter a Mingo natur’? Will your grand looks, or
Hist’s tears and beauty, change a wolf into a squirrel, or make a
catamount as innocent as a fa’an? No—Sarpent, you will think better
of this matter, and leave me in the hands of God. A’ter all, it’s by no
means sartain that the scamps design the torments, for they may yet be
pitiful, and bethink them of the wickedness of such a course—though
it is but a hopeless expectation to look forward to a Mingo’s turning
aside from evil, and letting marcy get uppermost in his heart.
Nevertheless, no one knows to a sartainty what will happen, and young
creatur’s, like Hist, a’n’t to be risked on onsartainties. This marrying
is altogether a different undertaking from what some young men fancy. Now,
if you was single, or as good as single, Delaware, I should expect you to
be actyve and stirring about the camp of the vagabonds, from sunrise to
sunset, sarcumventing and contriving, as restless as a hound off the
scent, and doing all manner of things to help me, and to distract the
inimy, but two are oftener feebler than one, and we must take things as
they are, and not as we want ’em to be.”

“Listen, Deerslayer,” returned the Indian with an emphasis so decided as
to show how much he was in earnest. “If Chingachgook was in the hands of
the Hurons, what would my pale-face brother do? Sneak off to the Delaware
villages, and say to the chiefs, and old men, and young warriors—’see,
here is Wah-ta-Wah; she is safe, but a little tired; and here is the Son
of Uncas, not as tired as the Honeysuckle, being stronger, but just as
safe.’ Would he do this?”

“Well, that’s oncommon ingen’ous; it’s cunning enough for a Mingo,
himself! The Lord only knows what put it into your head to ask such a
question. What would I do? Why, in the first place, Hist wouldn’t be
likely to be in my company at all, for she would stay as near you as
possible, and therefore all that part about her couldn’t be said without
talking nonsense. As for her being tired, that would fall through too, if
she didn’t go, and no part of your speech would be likely to come from me;
so, you see, Sarpent, reason is ag’in you, and you may as well give it up,
since to hold out ag’in reason, is no way becoming a chief of your
character and repitation.”

“My brother is not himself; he forgets that he is talking to one who has
sat at the Council Fire of his nation,” returned the other kindly. “When
men speak, they should say that which does not go in at one side of the
head and out at the other. Their words shouldn’t be feathers, so light
that a wind which does not ruffle the water can blow them away. He has not
answered my question; when a chief puts a question, his friend should not
talk of other things.”

“I understand you, Delaware; I understand well enough what you mean, and
truth won’t allow me to say otherwise. Still it’s not as easy to answer as
you seem to think, for this plain reason. You wish me to say what I would
do if I had a betrothed as you have, here, on the lake, and a fri’nd
yonder in the Huron camp, in danger of the torments. That’s it, isn’t it?”

The Indian bowed his head silently, and always with unmoved gravity,
though his eye twinkled at the sight of the other’s embarrassment.

“Well, I never had a betrothed—never had the kind of feelin’s toward
any young woman that you have towards Hist, though the Lord knows my
feelin’s are kind enough towards ’em all! Still my heart, as they call it
in such matters, isn’t touched, and therefore I can’t say what I would do.
A fri’nd pulls strong, that I know by exper’ence, Sarpent, but, by all
that I’ve seen and heard consarning love, I’m led to think that a
betrothed pulls stronger.”

“True; but the betrothed of Chingachgook does not pull towards the lodges
of the Delawares; she pulls towards the camp of the Hurons.”

“She’s a noble gal, for all her little feet, and hands that an’t bigger
than a child’s, and a voice that is as pleasant as a mocker’s; she’s a
noble gal, and like the stock of her sires! Well, what is it, Sarpent; for
I conclude she hasn’t changed her mind, and means to give herself up, and
turn Huron wife. What is it you want?”

“Wah-ta-Wah will never live in the wigwam of an Iroquois,” answered the
Delaware drily. “She has little feet, but they can carry her to the
villages of her people; she has small hands, too, but her mind is large.
My brother will see what we can do, when the time shall come, rather than
let him die under Mingo torments.”

“Attempt nothing heedlessly, Delaware,” said the other earnestly; “I
suppose you must and will have your way; and, on the whole it’s right you
should, for you’d neither be happy, unless something was undertaken. But
attempt nothing heedlessly—I didn’t expect you’d quit the lake,
while my matter remained in unsartainty, but remember, Sarpent, that no
torments that Mingo ingenuity can invent, no ta’ntings and revilings; no
burnings and roastings and nail-tearings, nor any other onhuman
contrivances can so soon break down my spirit, as to find that you and
Hist have fallen into the power of the inimy in striving to do something
for my good.”

“The Delawares are prudent. The Deerslayer will not find them running into
a strange camp with their eyes shut.”

Here the dialogue terminated. Hetty announced that the breakfast was
ready, and the whole party was soon seated around the simple board, in the
usual primitive manner of borderers. Judith was the last to take her seat,
pale, silent, and betraying in her countenance that she had passed a
painful, if not a sleepless, night. At this meal scarce a syllable was
exchanged, all the females manifesting want of appetites, though the two
men were unchanged in this particular. It was early when the party arose,
and there still remained several hours before it would be necessary for
the prisoner to leave his friends. The knowledge of this circumstance, and
the interest all felt in his welfare, induced the whole to assemble on the
platform again, in the desire to be near the expected victim, to listen to
his discourse, and if possible to show their interest in him by
anticipating his wishes. Deerslayer, himself, so far as human eyes could
penetrate, was wholly unmoved, conversing cheerfully and naturally, though
he avoided any direct allusions to the expected and great event of the
day. If any evidence could be discovered of his thought’s reverting to
that painful subject at all, it was in the manner in which he spoke of
death and the last great change.

“Grieve not, Hetty,” he said, for it was while consoling this
simple-minded girl for the loss of her parents that he thus betrayed his
feelings, “since God has app’inted that all must die. Your parents, or
them you fancied your parents, which is the same thing, have gone afore
you; this is only in the order of natur’, my good gal, for the aged go
first, and the young follow. But one that had a mother like your’n, Hetty,
can be at no loss to hope the best, as to how matters will turn out in
another world. The Delaware, here, and Hist, believe in happy hunting
grounds, and have idees befitting their notions and gifts as red-skins,
but we who are of white blood hold altogether to a different doctrine.
Still, I rather conclude our heaven is their land of spirits, and that the
path which leads to it will be travelled by all colours alike. ‘Tis
onpossible for the wicked to enter on it, I will allow, but fri’nds can
scarce be separated, though they are not of the same race on ‘arth. Keep
up your spirits, poor Hetty, and look forward to the day when you will
meet your mother ag’in, and that without pain, or sorrowing.”

“I do expect to see mother,” returned the truth-telling and simple girl,
“but what will become of father?”

“That’s a non-plusser, Delaware,” said the hunter, in the Indian dialect—“yes,
that is a downright non-plusser! The Muskrat was not a saint on ‘arth, and
it’s fair to guess he’ll not be much of one, hereafter! Howsever, Hetty,”
dropping into the English by an easy transition, “howsever, Hetty, we must
all hope for the best. That is wisest, and it is much the easiest to the
mind, if one can only do it. I ricommend to you, trusting to God, and
putting down all misgivings and fainthearted feelin’s. It’s wonderful,
Judith, how different people have different notions about the futur’, some
fancying one change, and some fancying another. I’ve known white teachers
that have thought all was spirit, hereafter, and them, ag’in, that
believed the body will be transported to another world, much as the
red-skins themselves imagine, and that we shall walk about in the flesh,
and know each other, and talk together, and be fri’nds there as we’ve been
fri’nds here.”

“Which of these opinions is most pleasing to you, Deerslayer?” asked the
girl, willing to indulge his melancholy mood, and far from being free from
its influence herself. “Would it be disagreeable to think that you should
meet all who are now on this platform in another world? Or have you known
enough of us here, to be glad to see us no more.

“The last would make death a bitter portion; yes it would. It’s eight good
years since the Sarpent and I began to hunt together, and the thought that
we were never to meet ag’in would be a hard thought to me. He looks
forward to the time when he shall chase a sort of spirit-deer, in company,
on plains where there’s no thorns, or brambles, or marshes, or other
hardships to overcome, whereas I can’t fall into all these notions, seeing
that they appear to be ag’in reason. Spirits can’t eat, nor have they any
use for clothes, and deer can only rightfully be chased to be slain, or
slain, unless it be for the venison or the hides. Now, I find it hard to
suppose that blessed spirits can be put to chasing game without an object,
tormenting the dumb animals just for the pleasure and agreeableness of
their own amusements. I never yet pulled a trigger on buck or doe, Judith,
unless when food or clothes was wanting.”

“The recollection of which, Deerslayer, must now be a great consolation to
you.”

“It is the thought of such things, my fri’nds, that enables a man to keep
his furlough. It might be done without it, I own; for the worst red-skins
sometimes do their duty in this matter; but it makes that which might
otherwise be hard, easy, if not altogether to our liking. Nothing truly
makes a bolder heart than a light conscience.”

Judith turned paler than ever, but she struggled for self-command, and
succeeded in obtaining it. The conflict had been severe, however, and it
left her so little disposed to speak that Hetty pursued the subject. This
was done in the simple manner natural to the girl.

“It would be cruel to kill the poor deer,” she said, “in this world, or
any other, when you don’t want their venison, or their skins. No good
white man, and no good red man would do it. But it’s wicked for a
Christian to talk about chasing anything in heaven. Such things are not
done before the face of God, and the missionary that teaches these
doctrines can’t be a true missionary. He must be a wolf in sheep’s
clothing. I suppose you know what a sheep is, Deerslayer.”

“That I do, gal, and a useful creatur’ it is, to such as like cloths
better than skins for winter garments. I understand the natur’ of sheep,
though I’ve had but little to do with ’em, and the natur’ of wolves too,
and can take the idee of a wolf in the fleece of a sheep, though I think
it would be like to prove a hot jacket for such a beast, in the warm
months!”

“And sin and hypocrisy are hot jackets, as they will find who put them
on,” returned Hetty, positively, “so the wolf would be no worse off than
the sinner. Spirits don’t hunt, nor trap, nor fish, nor do anything that
vain men undertake, since they’ve none of the longings of this world to
feed. Oh! Mother told me all that, years ago, and I don’t wish to hear it
denied.”

“Well, my good Hetty, in that case you’d better not broach your doctrine
to Hist, when she and you are alone, and the young Delaware maiden is
inclined to talk religion. It’s her fixed idee, I know, that the good
warriors do nothing but hunt and fish in the other world, though I don’t
believe that she fancies any of them are brought down to trapping, which
is no empl’yment for a brave. But of hunting and fishing, accordin’ to her
notion, they’ve their fill, and that, too, over the most agreeablest
hunting grounds, and among game that is never out of season, and which is
just actyve and instinctyve enough to give a pleasure to death. So I
wouldn’t ricommend it to you to start Hist on that idee.”

“Hist can’t be so wicked as to believe any such thing,” returned the
other, earnestly. “No Indian hunts after he is dead.”

“No wicked Indian, I grant you; no wicked Indian, sartainly. He is obliged
to carry the ammunition, and to look on without sharing in the sport, and
to cook, and to light the fires, and to do every thing that isn’t manful.
Now, mind; I don’t tell you these are my idees, but they are Hist’s idees,
and, therefore, for the sake of peace the less you say to her ag’in ’em,
the better.”

“And what are your ideas of the fate of an Indian, in the other world?”
demanded Judith, who had just found her voice.

“Ah! gal, any thing but that! I am too Christianized to expect any thing
so fanciful as hunting and fishing after death, nor do I believe there is
one Manitou for the red-skin and another for a pale-face. You find
different colours on ‘arth, as any one may see, but you don’t find
different natur’s. Different gifts, but only one natur’.”

“In what is a gift different from a nature? Is not nature itself a gift
from God?”

“Sartain; that’s quick-thoughted, and creditable, Judith, though the main
idee is wrong. A natur’ is the creatur’ itself; its wishes, wants, idees
and feelin’s, as all are born in him. This natur’ never can be changed, in
the main, though it may undergo some increase, or lessening. Now, gifts
come of sarcumstances. Thus, if you put a man in a town, he gets town
gifts; in a settlement, settlement gifts; in a forest, gifts of the woods.
A soldier has soldierly gifts, and a missionary preaching gifts. All these
increase and strengthen, until they get to fortify natur’, as it might be,
and excuse a thousand acts and idees. Still the creatur’ is the same at
the bottom; just as a man who is clad in regimentals is the same as the
man that is clad in skins. The garments make a change to the eye, and some
change in the conduct, perhaps; but none in the man. Herein lies the
apology for gifts; seein’ that you expect different conduct from one in
silks and satins, from one in homespun; though the Lord, who didn’t make
the dresses, but who made the creatur’s themselves, looks only at his own
work. This isn’t ra’al missionary doctrine, but it’s as near it as a man
of white colour need be. Ah’s! me; little did I think to be talking of
such matters, to-day, but it’s one of our weaknesses never to know what
will come to pass. Step into the Ark with me, Judith, for a minute; I wish
to convarse with you.”

Judith complied with a willingness she could scarce conceal. Following the
hunter into the cabin, she took a seat on a stool, while the young man
brought Killdeer, the rifle she had given him, out of a corner, and placed
himself on another, with the weapon laid upon his knees. After turning the
piece round and round, and examining its lock and its breech with a sort
of affectionate assiduity, he laid it down and proceeded to the subject
which had induced him to desire the interview.

“I understand you, Judith, to say that you gave me this rifle,” he said.
“I agreed to take it, because a young woman can have no particular use for
firearms. The we’pon has a great name, and it desarves it, and ought of
right to be carried by some known and sure hand, for the best repitation
may be lost by careless and thoughtless handling.”

“Can it be in better hands than those in which it is now, Deerslayer?
Thomas Hutter seldom missed with it; with you it must turn out to be—”

“Sartain death!” interrupted the hunter, laughing. “I once know’d a
beaver-man that had a piece he called by that very name, but ’twas all
boastfulness, for I’ve seen Delawares that were as true with arrows, at a
short range. Howsever, I’ll not deny my gifts—for this is a gift,
Judith, and not natur’—but, I’ll not deny my gifts, and therefore
allow that the rifle couldn’t well be in better hands than it is at
present. But, how long will it be likely to remain there? Atween us, the
truth may be said, though I shouldn’t like to have it known to the Sarpent
and Hist; but, to you the truth may be spoken, since your feelin’s will
not be as likely to be tormented by it, as those of them that have known
me longer and better. How long am I like to own this rifle or any other?
That is a serious question for our thoughts to rest on, and should that
happen which is so likely to happen, Killdeer would be without an owner.”

Judith listened with apparent composure, though the conflict within came
near overpowering her. Appreciating the singular character of her
companion, however, she succeeded in appearing calm, though, had not his
attention been drawn exclusively to the rifle, a man of his keenness of
observation could scarce have failed to detect the agony of mind with
which the girl had hearkened to his words. Her great self-command,
notwithstanding, enabled her to pursue the subject in a way still to
deceive him.

“What would you have me do with the weapon,” she asked, “should that which
you seem to expect take place?”

“That’s just what I wanted to speak to you about, Judith; that’s just it.
There’s Chingachgook, now, though far from being parfect sartainty, with a
rifle—for few red-skins ever get to be that—though far from
being parfect sartainty, he is respectable, and is coming on.
Nevertheless, he is my fri’nd, and all the better fri’nd, perhaps, because
there never can be any hard feelin’s atween us, touchin’ our gifts, his’n
bein’ red, and mine bein’ altogether white. Now, I should like to leave
Killdeer to the Sarpent, should any thing happen to keep me from doing
credit and honor to your precious gift, Judith.”

“Leave it to whom you please, Deerslayer. The rifle is your own, to do
with as you please. Chingachgook shall have it, should you never return to
claim it, if that be your wish.”

“Has Hetty been consulted in this matter? Property goes from the parent to
the children, and not to one child, in partic’lar!”

“If you place your right on that of the law, Deerslayer, I fear none of us
can claim to be the owner. Thomas Hutter was no more the father of Esther,
than he was the father of Judith. Judith and Esther we are truly, having
no other name!”

“There may be law in that, but there’s no great reason, gal. Accordin’ to
the custom of families, the goods are your’n, and there’s no one here to
gainsay it. If Hetty would only say that she is willing, my mind would be
quite at ease in the matter. It’s true, Judith, that your sister has
neither your beauty, nor your wit; but we should be the tenderest of the
rights and welfare of the most weak-minded.”

The girl made no answer but placing herself at a window, she summoned her
sister to her side. When the question was put to Hetty, that simple-minded
and affectionate creature cheerfully assented to the proposal to confer on
Deerslayer a full right of ownership to the much-coveted rifle. The latter
now seemed perfectly happy, for the time being at least, and after again
examining and re-examining his prize, he expressed a determination to put
its merits to a practical test, before he left the spot. No boy could have
been more eager to exhibit the qualities of his trumpet, or his crossbow,
than this simple forester was to prove those of his rifle. Returning to
the platform, he first took the Delaware aside, and informed him that this
celebrated piece was to become his property, in the event of any thing
serious befalling himself.

“This is a new reason why you should be wary, Sarpent, and not run into
any oncalculated danger,” the hunter added, “for, it will be a victory of
itself to a tribe to own such a piece as this! The Mingos will turn green
with envy, and, what is more, they will not ventur’ heedlessly near a
village where it is known to be kept. So, look well to it, Delaware, and
remember that you’ve now to watch over a thing that has all the valie of a
creatur’, without its failin’s. Hist may be, and should be precious to
you, but Killdeer will have the love and veneration of your whole people.”

“One rifle like another, Deerslayer,” returned the Indian, in English, the
language used by the other, a little hurt at his friend’s lowering his
betrothed to the level of a gun. “All kill; all wood and iron. Wife dear
to heart; rifle good to shoot.”

“And what is a man in the woods without something to shoot with?—a
miserable trapper, or a forlorn broom and basket maker, at the best. Such
a man may hoe corn, and keep soul and body together, but he can never know
the savory morsels of venison, or tell a bear’s ham from a hog’s. Come, my
fri’nd, such another occasion may never offer ag’in, and I feel a strong
craving for a trial with this celebrated piece. You shall bring out your
own rifle, and I will just sight Killdeer in a careless way, in order that
we may know a few of its secret vartues.”

As this proposition served to relieve the thoughts of the whole party, by
giving them a new direction, while it was likely to produce no unpleasant
results, every one was willing to enter into it; the girls bringing forth
the firearms with an alacrity bordering on cheerfulness. Hutter’s armory
was well supplied, possessing several rifles, all of which were habitually
kept loaded in readiness to meet any sudden demand for their use. On the
present occasion it only remained to freshen the primings, and each piece
was in a state for service. This was soon done, as all assisted in it, the
females being as expert in this part of the system of defence as their
male companions.

“Now, Sarpent, we’ll begin in a humble way, using Old Tom’s commoners
first, and coming to your we’pon and Killdeer as the winding up
observations,” said Deerslayer, delighted to be again, weapon in hand,
ready to display his skill. “Here’s birds in abundance, some in, and some
over the lake, and they keep at just a good range, hovering round the hut.
Speak your mind, Delaware, and p’int out the creatur’ you wish to alarm.
Here’s a diver nearest in, off to the eastward, and that’s a creatur’ that
buries itself at the flash, and will be like enough to try both piece and
powder.”

Chingachgook was a man of few words. No sooner was the bird pointed out to
him than he took his aim and fired. The duck dove at the flash, as had
been expected, and the bullet skipped harmlessly along the surface of the
lake, first striking the water within a few inches of the spot where the
bird had so lately swam. Deerslayer laughed, cordially and naturally, but
at the same time he threw himself into an attitude of preparation and
stood keenly watching the sheet of placid water. Presently a dark spot
appeared, and then the duck arose to breathe, and shook its wings. While
in this act, a bullet passed directly through its breast, actually turning
it over lifeless on its back. At the next moment, Deerslayer stood with
the breech of his rifle on the platform, as tranquil as if nothing had
happened, though laughing in his own peculiar manner.

“There’s no great trial of the pieces in that!” he said, as if anxious to
prevent a false impression of his own merit. “No, that proof’s neither for
nor ag’in the rifles, seeing it was all quickness of hand and eye. I took
the bird at a disadvantage, or he might have got under, again, afore the
bullet reached him. But the Sarpent is too wise to mind such tricks,
having long been used to them. Do you remember the time, chief, when you
thought yourself sartain of the wild-goose, and I took him out of your
very eyes, as it might be with a little smoke! Howsever, such things pass
for nothing atween fri’nds, and young folk will have their fun, Judith.
Ay; here’s just the bird we want, for it’s as good for the fire, as it is
for the aim, and nothing should be lost that can be turned to just
account. There, further north, Delaware.”

The latter looked in the required direction, and he soon saw a large black
duck floating in stately repose on the water. At that distant day, when so
few men were present to derange the harmony of the wilderness, all the
smaller lakes with which the interior of New York so abounds were places
of resort for the migratory aquatic birds, and this sheet like the others
had once been much frequented by all the varieties of the duck, by the
goose, the gull, and the loon. On the appearance of Hutter, the spot was
comparatively deserted for other sheets, more retired and remote, though
some of each species continued to resort thither, as indeed they do to the
present hour. At that instant, a hundred birds were visible from the
castle, sleeping on the water or laying their feathers in the limpid
element, though no other offered so favorable a mark as that Deerslayer
had just pointed out to his friend. Chingachgook, as usual, spared his
words, and proceeded to execution. This time his aim was more careful than
before, and his success in proportion. The bird had a wing crippled, and
fluttered along the water screaming, materially increasing its distance
from its enemies.

“That bird must be put out of pain,” exclaimed Deerslayer, the moment the
animal endeavored to rise on the wing, “and this is the rifle and the eye
to do it.”

The duck was still floundering along, when the fatal bullet overtook it,
severing the head from the neck as neatly as if it had been done with an
axe. Hist had indulged in a low cry of delight at the success of the young
Indian, but now she affected to frown and resent the greater skill of his
friend. The chief, on the contrary, uttered the usual exclamation of
pleasure, and his smile proved how much he admired, and how little he
envied.

“Never mind the gal, Sarpent, never mind Hist’s feelin’s, which will
neither choke, nor drown, slay nor beautify,” said Deerslayer, laughing.
“’Tis nat’ral for women to enter into their husband’s victories and
defeats, and you are as good as man and wife, so far as prejudyce and
fri’ndship go. Here is a bird over head that will put the pieces to the
proof. I challenge you to an upward aim, with a flying target. That’s a
ra’al proof, and one that needs sartain rifles, as well as sartain eyes.”

The species of eagle that frequents the water, and lives on fish, was also
present, and one was hovering at a considerable height above the hut,
greedily watching for an opportunity to make a swoop; its hungry young
elevating their heads from a nest that was in sight, in the naked summit
of a dead pine. Chingachgook silently turned a new piece against this
bird, and after carefully watching his time, fired. A wider circuit than
common denoted that the messenger had passed through the air at no great
distance from the bird, though it missed its object. Deerslayer, whose aim
was not more true than it was quick, fired as soon as it was certain his
friend had missed, and the deep swoop that followed left it momentarily
doubtful whether the eagle was hit or not. The marksman himself, however,
proclaimed his own want of success, calling on his friend to seize another
rifle, for he saw signs on the part of the bird of an intention to quit
the spot.

“I made him wink, Sarpent, I do think his feathers were ruffled, but no
blood has yet been drawn, nor is that old piece fit for so nice and quick
a sight. Quick, Delaware, you’ve now a better rifle, and, Judith, bring
out Killdeer, for this is the occasion to try his merits, if he has ’em.”

A general movement followed, each of the competitors got ready, and the
girls stood in eager expectation of the result. The eagle had made a wide
circuit after his low swoop, and fanning his way upward, once more hovered
nearly over the hut, at a distance even greater than before. Chingachgook
gazed at him, and then expressed his opinion of the impossibility of
striking a bird at that great height, and while he was so nearly
perpendicular, as to the range. But a low murmur from Hist produced a
sudden impulse and he fired. The result showed how well he had calculated,
the eagle not even varying his flight, sailing round and round in his airy
circle, and looking down, as if in contempt, at his foes.

“Now, Judith,” cried Deerslayer, laughing, with glistening and delighted
eyes, “we’ll see if Killdeer isn’t Killeagle, too! Give me room Sarpent,
and watch the reason of the aim, for by reason any thing may be l’arned.”

A careful sight followed, and was repeated again and again, the bird
continuing to rise higher and higher. Then followed the flash and the
report. The swift messenger sped upward, and, at the next instant, the
bird turned on its side, and came swooping down, now struggling with one
wing and then with the other, sometimes whirling in a circuit, next
fanning desperately as if conscious of its injury, until, having described
several complete circles around the spot, it fell heavily into the end of
the Ark. On examining the body, it was found that the bullet had pierced
it about half way between one of its wings and the breast-bone.


Chapter XXVI.

“We’ve done an unthoughtful thing, Sarpent—yes, Judith, we’ve done
an unthoughtful thing in taking life with an object no better than
vanity!” exclaimed Deerslayer, when the Delaware held up the enormous
bird, by its wings, and exhibited the dying eyes riveted on its enemies
with the gaze that the helpless ever fasten on their destroyers. “’Twas
more becomin’ two boys to gratify their feelin’s in this onthoughtful
manner, than two warriors on a warpath, even though it be their first.
Ah’s! me; well, as a punishment I’ll quit you at once, and when I find
myself alone with them bloody-minded Mingos, it’s more than like I’ll have
occasion to remember that life is sweet, even to the beasts of the woods
and the fowls of the air. There, Judith; there’s Kildeer; take him back,
ag’in, and keep him for some hand that’s more desarving to own such a
piece.”

“I know of none as deserving as your own, Deerslayer,” answered the girl
in haste; “none but yours shall keep the rifle.”

“If it depended on skill, you might be right enough, gal, but we should
know when to use firearms, as well as how to use ’em. I haven’t l’arnt the
first duty yet, it seems; so keep the piece till I have. The sight of a
dyin’ and distressed creatur’, even though it be only a bird, brings
wholesome thoughts to a man who don’t know how soon his own time may come,
and who is pretty sartain that it will come afore the sun sets; I’d give
back all my vain feelin’s, and rej’icin’s in hand and eye, if that poor
eagle was only on its nest ag’in, with its young, praisin’ the Lord for
anything that we can know about the matter, for health and strength!”

The listeners were confounded with this proof of sudden repentance in the
hunter, and that too for an indulgence so very common, that men seldom
stop to weigh its consequences, or the physical suffering it may bring on
the unoffending and helpless. The Delaware understood what was said,
though he scarce understood the feelings which had prompted the words, and
by way of disposing of the difficulty, he drew his keen knife, and severed
the head of the sufferer from its body.

“What a thing is power!” continued the hunter, “and what a thing it is to
have it, and not to know how to use it. It’s no wonder, Judith, that the
great so often fail of their duties, when even the little and the humble
find it so hard to do what’s right, and not to do what’s wrong. Then, how
one evil act brings others a’ter it! Now, wasn’t it for this furlough of
mine, which must soon take me back to the Mingos, I’d find this creatur’s
nest, if I travelled the woods a fortnight—though an eagle’s nest is
soon found by them that understands the bird’s natur’,—but I’d
travel a fortnight rather than not find it, just to put the young, too,
out of their pain.”

“I’m glad to hear you say this, Deerslayer,” observed Hetty, “and God will
be more apt to remember your sorrow for what you’ve done, than the
wickedness itself. I thought how wicked it was to kill harmless birds,
while you were shooting, and meant to tell you so; but, I don’t know how
it happened,—I was so curious to see if you could hit an eagle at so
great a height, that I forgot altogether to speak, ’till the mischief was
done.”

“That’s it; that’s just it, my good Hetty. We can all see our faults and
mistakes when it’s too late to help them! Howsever I’m glad you didn’t
speak, for I don’t think a word or two would have stopped me, just at that
moment, and so the sin stands in its nakedness, and not aggravated by any
unheeded calls to forbear. Well, well, bitter thoughts are hard to be
borne at all times, but there’s times when they’re harder than at others.”

Little did Deerslayer know, while thus indulging in feelings that were
natural to the man, and so strictly in accordance with his own
unsophisticated and just principles, that, in the course of the
inscrutable providence, which so uniformly and yet so mysteriously covers
all events with its mantle, the very fault he was disposed so severely to
censure was to be made the means of determining his own earthly fate. The
mode and the moment in which he was to feel the influence of this
interference, it would be premature to relate, but both will appear in the
course of the succeeding chapters. As for the young man, he now slowly
left the Ark, like one sorrowing for his misdeeds, and seated himself in
silence on the platform. By this time the sun had ascended to some height,
and its appearance, taken in connection with his present feelings, induced
him to prepare to depart. The Delaware got the canoe ready for his friend,
as soon as apprised of his intention, while Hist busied herself in making
the few arrangements that were thought necessary to his comfort. All this
was done without ostentation, but in a way that left Deerslayer fully
acquainted with, and equally disposed to appreciate, the motive. When all
was ready, both returned to the side of Judith and Hetty, neither of whom
had moved from the spot where the young hunter sat.

“The best fri’nds must often part,” the last began, when he saw the whole
party grouped around him—“yes, fri’ndship can’t alter the ways of
Providence, and let our feelin’s be as they may, we must part. I’ve often
thought there’s moments when our words dwell longer on the mind than
common, and when advice is remembered, just because the mouth that gives
it isn’t likely to give it ag’in. No one knows what will happen in this
world, and therefore it may be well, when fri’nds separate under a
likelihood that the parting may be long, to say a few words in kindness,
as a sort of keepsakes. If all but one will go into the Ark, I’ll talk to
each in turn, and what is more, I’ll listen to what you may have to say
back ag’in, for it’s a poor counsellor that won’t take as well as give.”

As the meaning of the speaker was understood, the two Indians immediately
withdrew as desired, leaving the sisters, however, still standing at the
young man’s side. A look of Deerslayer’s induced Judith to explain.

“You can advise Hetty as you land,” she said hastily, “for I intend that
she shall accompany you to the shore.”

“Is this wise, Judith? It’s true, that under common sarcumstances a feeble
mind is a great protection among red-skins, but when their feelin’s are
up, and they’re bent on revenge, it’s hard to say what may come to pass.
Besides—”

“What were you about to say, Deerslayer?” asked Judith, whose gentleness
of voice and manner amounted nearly to tenderness, though she struggled
hard to keep her emotions and apprehensions in subjection.

“Why, simply that there are sights and doin’s that one even as little
gifted with reason and memory as Hetty here, might better not witness. So,
Judith, you would do well to let me land alone, and to keep your sister
back.”

“Never fear for me, Deerslayer,” put in Hetty, who comprehended enough of
the discourse to know its general drift, “I’m feeble minded, and that they
say is an excuse for going anywhere; and what that won’t excuse, will be
overlooked on account of the Bible I always carry. It is wonderful,
Judith, how all sorts of men; the trappers as well as the hunters; red-men
as well as white; Mingos as well as Delawares do reverence and fear the
Bible!”

“I think you have not the least ground to fear any injury, Hetty,”
answered the sister, “and therefore I shall insist on your going to the
Huron camp with our friend. Your being there can do no harm, not even to
yourself, and may do great good to Deerslayer.”

“This is not a moment, Judith, to dispute, and so have the matter your own
way,” returned the young man. “Get yourself ready, Hetty, and go into the
canoe, for I’ve a few parting words to say to your sister, which can do
you no good.”

Judith and her companion continued silent, until Hetty had so far complied
as to leave them alone, when Deerslayer took up the subject, as if it had
been interrupted by some ordinary occurrence, and in a very matter of fact
way.

“Words spoken at parting, and which may be the last we ever hear from a
fri’nd are not soon forgotten,” he repeated, “and so Judith, I intend to
speak to you like a brother, seein’ I’m not old enough to be your father.
In the first place, I wish to caution you ag’in your inimies, of which two
may be said to ha’nt your very footsteps, and to beset your ways. The
first is oncommon good looks, which is as dangerous a foe to some young
women, as a whole tribe of Mingos could prove, and which calls for great
watchfulness—not to admire and praise—but to distrust and
sarcumvent. Yes, good looks may be sarcumvented, and fairly outwitted,
too. In order to do this you’ve only to remember that they melt like the
snows, and, when once gone, they never come back ag’in. The seasons come
and go, Judith, and if we have winter, with storms and frosts, and spring
with chills and leafless trees, we have summer with its sun and glorious
skies, and fall with its fruits, and a garment thrown over the forest,
that no beauty of the town could rummage out of all the shops in America.
‘Arth is in an etarnal round, the goodness of God bringing back the
pleasant when we’ve had enough of the onpleasant. But it’s not so with
good looks. They are lent for a short time in youth, to be used and not
abused, and, as I never met with a young woman to whom providence has been
as bountiful as it has to you, Judith, in this partic’lar, I warn you, as
it might be with my dyin’ breath, to beware of the inimy—fri’nd, or
inimy, as we deal with the gift.”

It was so grateful to Judith to hear these unequivocal admissions of her
personal charms, that much would have been forgiven to the man who made
them, let him be who he might. But, at that moment, and from a far better
feeling, it would not have been easy for Deerslayer seriously to offend
her, and she listened with a patience, which, had it been foretold only a
week earlier, it would have excited her indignation to hear.

“I understand your meaning, Deerslayer,” returned the girl, with a
meekness and humility that a little surprised her listener, “and hope to
be able to profit by it. But, you have mentioned only one of the enemies I
have to fear; who, or what is the other.”

“The other is givin’ way afore your own good sense and judgment, I find,
Judith; yes, he’s not as dangerous as I supposed. Howsever, havin’ opened
the subject, it will be as well to end it honestly. The first inimy you
have to be watchful of, as I’ve already told you, Judith, is oncommon good
looks, and the next is an oncommon knowledge of the sarcumstance. If the
first is bad, the last doesn’t, in any way, mend the matter, so far as
safety and peace of mind are consarned.”

How much longer the young man would have gone on in his simple and
unsuspecting, but well intentioned manner, it might not be easy to say,
had he not been interrupted by his listener’s bursting into tears, and
giving way to an outbreak of feeling, which was so much the more violent
from the fact that it had been with so much difficulty suppressed. At
first her sobs were so violent and uncontrollable that Deerslayer was a
little appalled, and he was abundantly repentant from the instant that he
discovered how much greater was the effect produced by his words than he
had anticipated. Even the austere and exacting are usually appeased by the
signs of contrition, but the nature of Deerslayer did not require proofs
of intense feelings so strong in order to bring him down to a level with
the regrets felt by the girl herself. He arose, as if an adder had stung
him, and the accents of the mother that soothes her child were scarcely
more gentle and winning than the tones of his voice, as he now expressed
his contrition at having gone so far.

“It was well meant, Judith,” he said, “but it was not intended to hurt
your feelin’s so much. I have overdone the advice, I see; yes, I’ve
overdone it, and I crave your pardon for the same. Fri’ndship’s an awful
thing! Sometimes it chides us for not having done enough; and then, ag’in
it speaks in strong words for havin’ done too much. Howsever, I
acknowledge I’ve overdone the matter, and as I’ve a ra’al and strong
regard for you, I rej’ice to say it, inasmuch as it proves how much better
you are, than my own vanity and consaits had made you out to be.”

Judith now removed her hands from her face, her tears had ceased, and she
unveiled a countenance so winning with the smile which rendered it even
radiant, that the young man gazed at her, for a moment, with speechless
delight.

“Say no more, Deerslayer,” she hastily interposed; “it pains me to hear
you find fault with yourself. I know my own weakness, all the better, now
I see that you have discovered it; the lesson, bitter as I have found it
for a moment, shall not be forgotten. We will not talk any longer of these
things, for I do not feel myself brave enough for the undertaking, and I
should not like the Delaware, or Hist, or even Hetty, to notice my
weakness. Farewell, Deerslayer; may God bless and protect you as your
honest heart deserves blessings and protection, and as I must think he
will.”

Judith had so far regained the superiority that properly belonged to her
better education, high spirit, and surpassing personal advantages, as to
preserve the ascendancy she had thus accidentally obtained, and
effectually prevented any return to the subject that was as singularly
interrupted, as it had been singularly introduced. The young man permitted
her to have every thing her own way, and when she pressed his hard hand in
both her own, he made no resistance, but submitted to the homage as
quietly, and with quite as matter of course a manner, as a sovereign would
have received a similar tribute from a subject, or the mistress from her
suitor. Feeling had flushed the face and illuminated the whole countenance
of the girl, and her beauty was never more resplendant than when she cast
a parting glance at the youth. That glance was filled with anxiety,
interest and gentle pity. At the next instant, she darted into the hut and
was seen no more, though she spoke to Hist from a window, to inform her
that their friend expected her appearance.

“You know enough of red-skin natur’, and red-skin usages, Wah-ta-Wah, to
see the condition I am in on account of this furlough,” commenced the
hunter in Delaware, as soon as the patient and submissive girl of that
people had moved quietly to his side; “you will therefore best onderstand
how onlikely I am ever to talk with you ag’in. I’ve but little to say; but
that little comes from long livin’ among your people, and from havin’
obsarved and noted their usages. The life of a woman is hard at the best,
but I must own, though I’m not opinionated in favor of my own colour, that
it is harder among the red men than it is among the pale-faces. This is a
p’int on which Christians may well boast, if boasting can be set down for
Christianity in any manner or form, which I rather think it cannot.
Howsever, all women have their trials. Red women have their’n in what I
should call the nat’ral way, while white women take ’em innoculated like.
Bear your burthen, Hist, becomingly, and remember if it be a little
toilsome, how much lighter it is than that of most Indian women. I know
the Sarpent well—what I call cordially—and he will never be a
tyrant to any thing he loves, though he will expect to be treated himself
like a Mohican Chief. There will be cloudy days in your lodge I suppose,
for they happen under all usages, and among all people, but, by keepin’
the windows of the heart open there will always be room for the sunshine
to enter. You come of a great stock yourself, and so does Chingachgook.
It’s not very likely that either will ever forget the sarcumstance and do
any thing to disgrace your forefathers. Nevertheless, likin’ is a tender
plant, and never thrives long when watered with tears. Let the ‘arth
around your married happiness be moistened by the dews of kindness.”

“My pale brother is very wise; Wah will keep in her mind all that his
wisdom tells her.”

“That’s judicious and womanly, Hist. Care in listening, and
stout-heartedness in holding to good counsel, is a wife’s great
protection. And, now, ask the Sarpent to come and speak with me, for a
moment, and carry away with you all my best wishes and prayers. I shall
think of you, Hist, and of your intended husband, let what may come to
pass, and always wish you well, here and hereafter, whether the last is to
be according to Indian idees, or Christian doctrines.”

Hist shed no tear at parting. She was sustained by the high resolution of
one who had decided on her course, but her dark eyes were luminous with
the feelings that glowed within, and her pretty countenance beamed with an
expression of determination that was in marked and singular contrast to
its ordinary gentleness. It was but a minute ere the Delaware advanced to
the side of his friend with the light, noiseless tread of an Indian.

“Come this-a-way, Sarpent, here more out of sight of the women,” commenced
the Deerslayer, “for I’ve several things to say that mustn’t so much as be
suspected, much less overheard. You know too well the natur’ of furloughs
and Mingos to have any doubts or misgivin’s consarnin’ what is like to
happen, when I get back to the camp. On them two p’ints therefore, a few
words will go a great way. In the first place, chief, I wish to say a
little about Hist, and the manner in which you red men treat your wives. I
suppose it’s accordin’ to the gifts of your people that the women should
work, and the men hunt; but there’s such a thing as moderation in all
matters. As for huntin’, I see no good reason why any limits need be set
to that, but Hist comes of too good a stock to toil like a common drudge.
One of your means and standin’ need never want for corn, or potatoes, or
anything that the fields yield; therefore, I hope the hoe will never be
put into the hands of any wife of yourn. You know I am not quite a beggar,
and all I own, whether in ammunition, skins, arms, or calicoes, I give to
Hist, should I not come back to claim them by the end of the season. This
will set the maiden up, and will buy labor for her, for a long time to
come. I suppose I needn’t tell you to love the young woman, for that you
do already, and whomsoever the man ra’ally loves, he’ll be likely enough
to cherish. Nevertheless, it can do no harm to say that kind words never
rankle, while bitter words do. I know you’re a man, Sarpent, that is less
apt to talk in his own lodge, than to speak at the Council Fire; but
forgetful moments may overtake us all, and the practyse of kind doin’, and
kind talkin’, is a wonderful advantage in keepin’ peace in a cabin, as
well as on a hunt.”

“My ears are open,” returned the Delaware gravely; “the words of my
brother have entered so far that they never can fall out again. They are
like rings, that have no end, and cannot drop. Let him speak on; the song
of the wren and the voice of a friend never tire.”

“I will speak a little longer, chief, but you will excuse it for the sake
of old companionship, should I now talk about myself. If the worst comes
to the worst, it’s not likely there’ll be much left of me but ashes, so a
grave would be useless, and a sort of vanity. On that score I’m no way
partic’lar, though it might be well enough to take a look at the remains
of the pile, and should any bones, or pieces be found, ‘twould be more
decent to gather them together, and bury them, than to let them lie for
the wolves to gnaw at, and howl over. These matters can make no great
difference in the mind, but men of white blood and Christian feelin’s have
rather a gift for graves.”

“It shall be done as my brother says,” returned the Indian, gravely. “If
his mind is full, let him empty it in the bosom of a friend.”

“I thank you, Sarpent; my mind’s easy enough; yes, it’s tolerable easy.
Idees will come uppermost that I’m not apt to think about in common, it’s
true, but by striving ag’in some, and lettin’ other some out, all will
come right in the long run. There’s one thing, howsever, chief, that does
seem to me to be onreasonable, and ag’in natur’, though the missionaries
say it’s true, and bein’ of my religion and colour I feel bound to believe
them. They say an Injin may torment and tortur’ the body to his heart’s
content, and scalp, and cut, and tear, and burn, and consume all his
inventions and deviltries, until nothin’ is left but ashes, and they shall
be scattered to the four winds of heaven, yet when the trumpet of God
shall sound, all will come together ag’in, and the man will stand forth in
his flesh, the same creatur’ as to looks, if not as to feelin’s, that he
was afore he was harmed!”

“The missionaries are good men—mean well,” returned the Delaware
courteously; “they are not great medicines. They think all they say,
Deerslayer; that is no reason why warriors and orators should be all ears.
When Chingachgook shall see the father of Tamenund standing in his scalp,
and paint, and war lock, then will he believe the missionaries.”

“Seein’ is believin’, of a sartainty; ahs! me—and some of us may see
these things sooner than we thought. I comprehind your meanin’ about
Tamenund’s father, Sarpent, and the idee’s a close idee. Tamenund is now
an elderly man, say eighty every day of it, and his father was scalped,
and tormented, and burnt, when the present prophet was a youngster. Yes,
if one could see that come to pass, there wouldn’t be much difficulty in
yieldin’ faith to all that the missionaries say. Howsever, I am not ag’in
the opinion now, for you must know, Sarpent, that the great principle of
Christianity is to believe without seeing, and a man should always act up
to his religion and principles, let them be what they may.”

“That is strange for a wise nation!” said the Delaware with emphasis. “The
red man looks hard, that he may see and understand.”

“Yes, that’s plauserble, and is agreeable to mortal pride, but it’s not as
deep as it seems. If we could understand all we see, Sarpent, there might
be not only sense, but safety, in refusin’ to give faith to any one thing
that we might find oncomperhensible; but when there’s so many things about
which it may be said we know nothin’ at all, why, there’s little use, and
no reason, in bein’ difficult touchin’ any one in partic’lar. For my part,
Delaware, all my thoughts haven’t been on the game, when outlyin’ in the
hunts and scoutin’s of our youth. Many’s the hour I’ve passed, pleasantly
enough too, in what is tarmed conterplation by my people. On such
occasions the mind is actyve, though the body seems lazy and listless. An
open spot on a mountain side, where a wide look can be had at the heavens
and the ‘arth, is a most judicious place for a man to get a just idee of
the power of the Manitou, and of his own littleness. At such times, there
isn’t any great disposition to find fault with little difficulties, in the
way of comperhension, as there are so many big ones to hide them.
Believin’ comes easy enough to me at such times, and if the Lord made man
first out of ‘arth, as they tell me it is written in the Bible; then turns
him into dust at death; I see no great difficulty in the way to bringin’
him back in the body, though ashes be the only substance left. These
things lie beyond our understandin’, though they may and do lie so close
to our feelin’s. But, of all the doctrines, Sarpent, that which disturbs
me, and disconsarts my mind the most, is the one which teaches us to think
that a pale-face goes to one heaven, and a red-skin to another; it may
separate in death them which lived much together, and loved each other
well, in life!”

“Do the missionaries teach their white brethren to think it is so?”
demanded the Indian, with serious earnestness. “The Delawares believe that
good men and brave warriors will hunt together in the same pleasant woods,
let them belong to whatever tribe they may; that all the unjust Indians
and cowards will have to sneak in with the dogs and the wolves to get
venison for their lodges.”

“’Tis wonderful how many consaits mankind have consarnin’ happiness and
misery, here after!” exclaimed the hunter, borne away by the power of his
own thoughts. “Some believe in burnin’s and flames, and some think
punishment is to eat with the wolves and dogs. Then, ag’in, some fancy
heaven to be only the carryin’ out of their own ‘arthly longin’s, while
others fancy it all gold and shinin’ lights! Well, I’ve an idee of my own,
in that matter, which is just this, Sarpent. Whenever I’ve done wrong,
I’ve ginirally found ’twas owin’ to some blindness of the mind, which hid
the right from view, and when sight has returned, then has come sorrow and
repentance. Now, I consait that, after death, when the body is laid aside
or, if used at all, is purified and without its longin’s, the spirit sees
all things in their ra’al lights and never becomes blind to truth and
justice. Such bein’ the case, all that has been done in life, is beheld as
plainly as the sun is seen at noon; the good brings joy, while the evil
brings sorrow. There’s nothin’ onreasonable in that, but it’s agreeable to
every man’s exper’ence.”

“I thought the pale-faces believed all men were wicked; who then could
ever find the white man’s heaven?”

“That’s ingen’ous, but it falls short of the missionary teachin’s. You’ll
be Christianized one day, I make no doubt, and then ’twill all come plain
enough. You must know, Sarpent, that there’s been a great deed of
salvation done, that, by God’s help, enables all men to find a pardon for
their wickednesses, and that is the essence of the white man’s religion. I
can’t stop to talk this matter over with you any longer, for Hetty’s in
the canoe, and the furlough takes me away, but the time will come I hope
when you’ll feel these things; for, after all, they must be felt rather
than reasoned about. Ah’s! me; well, Delaware, there’s my hand; you know
it’s that of a fri’nd, and will shake it as such, though it never has done
you one half the good its owner wishes it had.”

The Indian took the offered hand, and returned its pressure warmly. Then
falling back on his acquired stoicism of manner, which so many mistake for
constitutional indifference, he drew up in reserve, and prepared to part
from his friend with dignity. Deerslayer, however, was more natural, nor
would he have at all cared about giving way to his feelings, had not the
recent conduct and language of Judith given him some secret, though ill
defined apprehensions of a scene. He was too humble to imagine the truth
concerning the actual feelings of that beautiful girl, while he was too
observant not to have noted the struggle she had maintained with herself,
and which had so often led her to the very verge of discovery. That
something extraordinary was concealed in her breast he thought obvious
enough, and, through a sentiment of manly delicacy that would have done
credit to the highest human refinement, he shrunk from any exposure of her
secret that might subsequently cause regret to the girl, herself. He
therefore determined to depart, now, and that without any further
manifestations of feeling either from him, or from others.

“God bless you! Sarpent—God bless you!” cried the hunter, as the
canoe left the side of the platform. “Your Manitou and my God only know
when and where we shall meet ag’in; I shall count it a great blessing, and
a full reward for any little good I may have done on ‘arth, if we shall be
permitted to know each other, and to consort together, hereafter, as we
have so long done in these pleasant woods afore us!”

Chingachgook waved his hand. Drawing the light blanket he wore over his
head, as a Roman would conceal his grief in his robes, he slowly withdrew
into the Ark, in order to indulge his sorrow and his musings, alone.
Deerslayer did not speak again until the canoe was half-way to the shore.
Then he suddenly ceased paddling, at an interruption that came from the
mild, musical voice of Hetty.

“Why do you go back to the Hurons, Deerslayer?” demanded the girl. “They
say I am feeble-minded, and such they never harm, but you have as much
sense as Hurry Harry; and more too, Judith thinks, though I don’t see how
that can well be.”

“Ah! Hetty, afore we land I must convarse a little with you child, and
that too on matters touching your own welfare, principally. Stop paddling—or,
rather, that the Mingos needn’t think we are plotting and contriving, and
so treat us accordingly, just dip your paddle lightly, and give the canoe
a little motion and no more. That’s just the idee and the movement; I see
you’re ready enough at an appearance, and might be made useful at a
sarcumvention if it was lawful now to use one—that’s just the idee
and the movement! Ah’s! me. Desait and a false tongue are evil things, and
altogether onbecoming our colour, Hetty, but it is a pleasure and a
satisfaction to outdo the contrivances of a red-skin in the strife of
lawful warfare. My path has been short, and is like soon to have an end,
but I can see that the wanderings of a warrior aren’t altogether among
brambles and difficulties. There’s a bright side to a warpath, as well as
to most other things, if we’ll only have the wisdom to see it, and the
ginerosity to own it.”

“And why should your warpath, as you call it, come so near to an end,
Deerslayer?”

“Because, my good girl, my furlough comes so near to an end. They’re
likely to have pretty much the same tarmination, as regards time, one
following on the heels of the other, as a matter of course.”

“I don’t understand your meaning, Deerslayer—” returned the girl,
looking a little bewildered. “Mother always said people ought to speak
more plainly to me than to most other persons, because I’m feeble minded.
Those that are feeble minded, don’t understand as easily as those that
have sense.”

“Well then, Hetty, the simple truth is this. You know that I’m now a
captyve to the Hurons, and captyves can’t do, in all things, as they
please—”

“But how can you be a captive,” eagerly interrupted the girl—“when
you are out here on the lake, in father’s best canoe, and the Indians are
in the woods with no canoe at all? That can’t be true, Deerslayer!”

“I wish with all my heart and soul, Hetty, that you was right, and that I
was wrong, instead of your bein’ all wrong, and I bein’ only too near the
truth. Free as I seem to your eyes, gal, I’m bound hand and foot in
ra’ality.”

“Well it is a great misfortune not to have sense! Now I can’t see or
understand that you are a captive, or bound in any manner. If you are
bound, with what are your hands and feet fastened?”

“With a furlough, gal; that’s a thong that binds tighter than any chain.
One may be broken, but the other can’t. Ropes and chains allow of knives,
and desait, and contrivances; but a furlough can be neither cut, slipped
nor sarcumvented.”

“What sort of a thing is a furlough, then, if it be stronger than hemp or
iron? I never saw a furlough.”

“I hope you may never feel one, gal; the tie is altogether in the
feelin’s, in these matters, and therefore is to be felt and not seen. You
can understand what it is to give a promise, I dare to say, good little
Hetty?”

“Certainly. A promise is to say you will do a thing, and that binds you to
be as good as your word. Mother always kept her promises to me, and then
she said it would be wicked if I didn’t keep my promises to her, and to
every body else.”

“You have had a good mother, in some matters, child, whatever she may have
been in other some. That is a promise, and as you say it must be kept.
Now, I fell into the hands of the Mingos last night, and they let me come
off to see my fri’nds and send messages in to my own colour, if any such
feel consarn on my account, on condition that I shall be back when the sun
is up today, and take whatever their revenge and hatred can contrive, in
the way of torments, in satisfaction for the life of a warrior that fell
by my rifle, as well as for that of the young woman shot by Hurry, and
other disapp’intments met with on and about this lake. What is called a
promise atween mother and darter, or even atween strangers in the
settlements is called a furlough when given by one soldier to another, on
a warpath. And now I suppose you understand my situation, Hetty.”

The girl made no answer for some time, but she ceased paddling altogether,
as if the novel idea distracted her mind too much to admit of other
employment. Then she resumed the dialogue earnestly and with solicitude.

“Do you think the Hurons will have the heart to do what you say,
Deerslayer?” she asked. “I have found them kind and harmless.”

“That’s true enough as consarns one like you, Hetty, but it’s a very
different affair when it comes to an open inimy, and he too the owner of a
pretty sartain rifle. I don’t say that they bear me special malice on
account of any expl’ites already performed, for that would be bragging, as
it might be, on the varge of the grave, but it’s no vanity to believe that
they know one of their bravest and cunnin’est chiefs fell by my hands.
Such bein’ the case, the tribe would reproach them if they failed to send
the spirit of a pale-face to keep the company of the spirit of their red
brother; always supposin’ that he can catch it. I look for no marcy,
Hetty, at their hands; and my principal sorrow is that such a calamity
should befall me on my first warpath: that it would come sooner or later,
every soldier counts on and expects.”

“The Hurons shall not harm you, Deerslayer,” cried the girl, much excited—“’Tis
wicked as well as cruel; I have the Bible, here, to tell them so. Do you
think I would stand by and see you tormented?”

“I hope not, my good Hetty, I hope not; and, therefore, when the moment
comes, I expect you will move off, and not be a witness of what you can’t
help, while it would grieve you. But, I haven’t stopped the paddles to
talk of my own afflictions and difficulties, but to speak a little plainly
to you, gal, consarnin’ your own matters.”

“What can you have to say to me, Deerslayer! Since mother died, few talk
to me of such things.”

“So much the worse, poor gal; yes, ’tis so much the worse, for one of your
state of mind needs frequent talking to, in order to escape the snares and
desaits of this wicked world. You haven’t forgotten Hurry Harry, gal, so
soon, I calculate?”

“I!—I forget Henry March!” exclaimed Hetty, starting. “Why should I
forget him, Deerslayer, when he is our friend, and only left us last
night. Then the large bright star that mother loved so much to gaze at was
just over the top of yonder tall pine on the mountain, as Hurry got into
the canoe; and when you landed him on the point, near the east bay, it
wasn’t more than the length of Judith’s handsomest ribbon above it.”

“And how can you know how long I was gone, or how far I went to land
Hurry, seein’ you were not with us, and the distance was so great, to say
nothing of the night?”

“Oh! I know when it was, well enough,” returned Hetty positively—“There’s
more ways than one for counting time and distance. When the mind is
engaged, it is better than any clock. Mine is feeble, I know, but it goes
true enough in all that touches poor Hurry Harry. Judith will never marry
March, Deerslayer.”

“That’s the p’int, Hetty; that’s the very p’int I want to come to. I
suppose you know that it’s nat’ral for young people to have kind feelin’s
for one another, more especially when one happens to be a youth and
t’other a maiden. Now, one of your years and mind, gal, that has neither
father nor mother, and who lives in a wilderness frequented by hunters and
trappers, needs be on her guard against evils she little dreams of.”

“What harm can it be to think well of a fellow creature,” returned Hetty
simply, though the conscious blood was stealing to her cheeks in spite of
a spirit so pure that it scarce knew why it prompted the blush, “the Bible
tells us to ‘love them who despitefully use’ us, and why shouldn’t we like
them that do not.”

“Ah! Hetty, the love of the missionaries isn’t the sort of likin’ I mean.
Answer me one thing, child; do you believe yourself to have mind enough to
become a wife, and a mother?”

“That’s not a proper question to ask a young woman, Deerslayer, and I’ll
not answer it,” returned the girl, in a reproving manner—much as a
parent rebukes a child for an act of indiscretion. “If you have any thing
to say about Hurry, I’ll hear that—but you must not speak evil of
him; he is absent, and ’tis unkind to talk evil of the absent.”

“Your mother has given you so many good lessons, Hetty, that my fears for
you are not as great as they were. Nevertheless, a young woman without
parents, in your state of mind, and who is not without beauty, must always
be in danger in such a lawless region as this. I would say nothin’ amiss
of Hurry, who, in the main, is not a bad man for one of his callin’, but
you ought to know one thing, which it may not be altogether pleasant to
tell you, but which must be said. March has a desperate likin’ for your
sister Judith.”

“Well, what of that? Everybody admires Judith, she’s so handsome, and
Hurry has told me, again and again, how much he wishes to marry her. But
that will never come to pass, for Judith don’t like Hurry. She likes
another, and talks about him in her sleep; though you need not ask me who
he is, for all the gold in King George’s crown, and all the jewels too,
wouldn’t tempt me to tell you his name. If sisters can’t keep each other’s
secrets, who can?”

“Sartainly, I do not wish you to tell me, Hetty, nor would it be any
advantage to a dyin’ man to know. What the tongue says when the mind’s
asleep, neither head nor heart is answerable for.”

“I wish I knew why Judith talks so much in her sleep, about officers, and
honest hearts, and false tongues, but I suppose she don’t like to tell me,
as I’m feeble minded. Isn’t it odd, Deerslayer, that Judith don’t like
Hurry—he who is the bravest looking youth that ever comes upon the
lake, and is as handsome as she is herself. Father always said they would
be the comeliest couple in the country, though mother didn’t fancy March
any more than Judith. There’s no telling what will happen, they say, until
things actually come to pass.”

“Ahs! me—well, poor Hetty, ’tis of no great use to talk to them that
can’t understand you, and so I’ll say no more about what I did wish to
speak of, though it lay heavy on my mind. Put the paddle in motion ag’in,
gal, and we’ll push for the shore, for the sun is nearly up, and my
furlough is almost out.”

The canoe now glided ahead, holding its way towards the point where
Deerslayer well knew that his enemies expected him, and where he now began
to be afraid he might not arrive in season to redeem his plighted faith.
Hetty, perceiving his impatience without very clearly comprehending its
cause, however, seconded his efforts in a way that soon rendered their
timely return no longer a matter of doubt. Then, and then only, did the
young man suffer his exertions to flag, and Hetty began, again, to prattle
in her simple confiding manner, though nothing farther was uttered that it
may be thought necessary to relate.


Chapter XXVII.

One experienced in the signs of the heavens, would have seen that the sun
wanted but two or three minutes of the zenith, when Deerslayer landed on
the point, where the Hurons were now encamped, nearly abreast of the
castle. This spot was similar to the one already described, with the
exception that the surface of the land was less broken, and less crowded
with trees. Owing to these two circumstances, it was all the better suited
to the purpose for which it had been selected, the space beneath the
branches bearing some resemblance to a densely wooded lawn. Favoured by
its position and its spring, it had been much resorted to by savages and
hunters, and the natural grasses had succeeded their fires, leaving an
appearance of sward in places, a very unusual accompaniment of the virgin
forest. Nor was the margin of water fringed with bushes, as on so much of
its shore, but the eye penetrated the woods immediately on reaching the
strand, commanding nearly the whole area of the projection.

If it was a point of honor with the Indian warrior to redeem his word,
when pledged to return and meet his death at a given hour, so was it a
point of characteristic pride to show no womanish impatience, but to
reappear as nearly as possible at the appointed moment. It was well not to
exceed the grace accorded by the generosity of the enemy, but it was
better to meet it to a minute. Something of this dramatic effect mingles
with most of the graver usages of the American aborigines, and no doubt,
like the prevalence of a similar feeling among people more sophisticated
and refined, may be referred to a principle of nature. We all love the
wonderful, and when it comes attended by chivalrous self-devotion and a
rigid regard to honor, it presents itself to our admiration in a shape
doubly attractive. As respects Deerslayer, though he took a pride in
showing his white blood, by often deviating from the usages of the
red-men, he frequently dropped into their customs, and oftener into their
feelings, unconsciously to himself, in consequence of having no other
arbiters to appeal to, than their judgments and tastes. On the present
occasion, he would have abstained from betraying a feverish haste by a too
speedy return, since it would have contained a tacit admission that the
time asked for was more than had been wanted; but, on the other hand, had
the idea occurred to him, he would have quickened his movements a little,
in order to avoid the dramatic appearance of returning at the precise
instant set as the utmost limit of his absence. Still, accident had
interfered to defeat the last intention, for when the young man put his
foot on the point, and advanced with a steady tread towards the group of
chiefs that was seated in grave array on a fallen tree, the oldest of
their number cast his eye upward, at an opening in the trees, and pointed
out to his companions the startling fact that the sun was just entering a
space that was known to mark the zenith. A common, but low exclamation of
surprise and admiration escaped every mouth, and the grim warriors looked
at each other, some with envy and disappointment, some with astonishment
at the precise accuracy of their victim, and others with a more generous
and liberal feeling. The American Indian always deemed his moral victories
the noblest, prizing the groans and yielding of his victim under torture,
more than the trophy of his scalp; and the trophy itself more than his
life. To slay, and not to bring off the proof of victory, indeed, was
scarcely deemed honorable, even these rude and fierce tenants of the
forest, like their more nurtured brethren of the court and the camp,
having set up for themselves imaginary and arbitrary points of honor, to
supplant the conclusions of the right and the decisions of reason.

The Hurons had been divided in their opinions concerning the probability
of their captive’s return. Most among them, indeed, had not expected it
possible for a pale-face to come back voluntarily, and meet the known
penalties of an Indian torture; but a few of the seniors expected better
things from one who had already shown himself so singularly cool, brave
and upright. The party had come to its decision, however, less in the
expectation of finding the pledge redeemed, than in the hope of disgracing
the Delawares by casting into their teeth the delinquency of one bred in
their villages. They would have greatly preferred that Chingachgook should
be their prisoner, and prove the traitor, but the pale-face scion of the
hated stock was no bad substitute for their purposes, failing in their
designs against the ancient stem. With a view to render their triumph as
signal as possible, in the event of the hour’s passing without the
reappearance of the hunter, all the warriors and scouts of the party had
been called in, and the whole band, men, women and children, was now
assembled at this single point, to be a witness of the expected scene. As
the castle was in plain view, and by no means distant, it was easily
watched by daylight, and, it being thought that its inmates were now
limited to Hurry, the Delaware and the two girls, no apprehensions were
felt of their being able to escape unseen. A large raft having a
breast-work of logs had been prepared, and was in actual readiness to be
used against either Ark or castle as occasion might require, so soon as
the fate of Deerslayer was determined, the seniors of the party having
come to the opinion that it was getting to be hazardous to delay their
departure for Canada beyond the coming night. In short the band waited
merely to dispose of this single affair, ere it brought matters with those
in the Castle to a crisis, and prepared to commence its retreat towards
the distant waters of Ontario.

It was an imposing scene into which Deerslayer now found himself
advancing. All the older warriors were seated on the trunk of the fallen
tree, waiting his approach with grave decorum. On the right stood the
young men, armed, while left was occupied by the women and children. In
the centre was an open space of considerable extent, always canopied by
trees, but from which the underbrush, dead wood, and other obstacles had
been carefully removed. The more open area had probably been much used by
former parties, for this was the place where the appearance of a sward was
the most decided. The arches of the woods, even at high noon, cast their
sombre shadows on the spot, which the brilliant rays of the sun that
struggled through the leaves contributed to mellow, and, if such an
expression can be used, to illuminate. It was probably from a similar
scene that the mind of man first got its idea of the effects of gothic
tracery and churchly hues, this temple of nature producing some such
effect, so far as light and shadow were concerned, as the well-known
offspring of human invention.

As was not unusual among the tribes and wandering bands of the Aborigines,
two chiefs shared, in nearly equal degrees, the principal and primitive
authority that was wielded over these children of the forest. There were
several who might claim the distinction of being chief men, but the two in
question were so much superior to all the rest in influence, that, when
they agreed, no one disputed their mandates, and when they were divided
the band hesitated, like men who had lost their governing principle of
action. It was also in conformity with practice, perhaps we might add in
conformity with nature, that one of the chiefs was indebted to his mind
for his influence, whereas the other owed his distinction altogether to
qualities that were physical. One was a senior, well known for eloquence
in debate, wisdom in council, and prudence in measures; while his great
competitor, if not his rival, was a brave distinguished in war, notorious
for ferocity, and remarkable, in the way of intellect, for nothing but the
cunning and expedients of the war path. The first was Rivenoak, who has
already been introduced to the reader, while the last was called le
Panth’ere, in the language of the Canadas, or the Panther, to resort to
the vernacular of the English colonies. The appellation of the fighting
chief was supposed to indicate the qualities of the warrior, agreeably to
a practice of the red man’s nomenclature, ferocity, cunning and treachery
being, perhaps, the distinctive features of his character. The title had
been received from the French, and was prized so much the more from that
circumstance, the Indian submitting profoundly to the greater intelligence
of his pale-face allies, in most things of this nature. How well the
sobriquet was merited will be seen in the sequel.

Rivenoak and the Panther sat side by side awaiting the approach of their
prisoner, as Deerslayer put his moccasined foot on the strand, nor did
either move, or utter a syllable, until the young man had advanced into
the centre of the area, and proclaimed his presence with his voice. This
was done firmly, though in the simple manner that marked the character of
the individual.

“Here I am, Mingos,” he said, in the dialect of the Delawares, a language
that most present understood; “here I am, and there is the sun. One is not
more true to the laws of natur’, than the other has proved true to his
word. I am your prisoner; do with me what you please. My business with man
and ‘arth is settled; nothing remains now but to meet the white man’s God,
accordin’ to a white man’s duties and gifts.”

A murmur of approbation escaped even the women at this address, and, for
an instant there was a strong and pretty general desire to adopt into the
tribe one who owned so brave a spirit. Still there were dissenters from
this wish, among the principal of whom might be classed the Panther, and
his sister, le Sumach, so called from the number of her children, who was
the widow of le Loup Cervier, now known to have fallen by the hand of the
captive. Native ferocity held one in subjection, while the corroding
passion of revenge prevented the other from admitting any gentler feeling
at the moment. Not so with Rivenoak. This chief arose, stretched his arm
before him in a gesture of courtesy, and paid his compliments with an ease
and dignity that a prince might have envied. As, in that band, his wisdom
and eloquence were confessedly without rivals, he knew that on himself
would properly fall the duty of first replying to the speech of the
pale-face.

“Pale-face, you are honest,” said the Huron orator. “My people are happy
in having captured a man, and not a skulking fox. We now know you; we
shall treat you like a brave. If you have slain one of our warriors, and
helped to kill others, you have a life of your own ready to give away in
return. Some of my young men thought that the blood of a pale-face was too
thin; that it would refuse to run under the Huron knife. You will show
them it is not so; your heart is stout, as well as your body. It is a
pleasure to make such a prisoner; should my warriors say that the death of
le Loup Cervier ought not to be forgotten, and that he cannot travel
towards the land of spirits alone, that his enemy must be sent to overtake
him, they will remember that he fell by the hand of a brave, and send you
after him with such signs of our friendship as shall not make him ashamed
to keep your company. I have spoken; you know what I have said.”

“True enough, Mingo, all true as the gospel,” returned the simple minded
hunter, “you have spoken, and I do know not only what you have said, but,
what is still more important, what you mean. I dare to say your warrior
the Lynx was a stout-hearted brave, and worthy of your fri’ndship and
respect, but I do not feel unworthy to keep his company, without any
passport from your hands. Nevertheless, here I am, ready to receive
judgment from your council, if, indeed, the matter was not detarmined
among you afore I got back.”

“My old men would not sit in council over a pale-face until they saw him
among them,” answered Rivenoak, looking around him a little ironically;
“they said it would be like sitting in council over the winds; they go
where they will, and come back as they see fit, and not otherwise. There
was one voice that spoke in your favor, Deerslayer, but it was alone, like
the song of the wren whose mate has been struck by the hawk.”

“I thank that voice whosever it may have been, Mingo, and will say it was
as true a voice as the rest were lying voices. A furlough is as binding on
a pale-face, if he be honest, as it is on a red-skin, and was it not so, I
would never bring disgrace on the Delawares, among whom I may be said to
have received my edication. But words are useless, and lead to braggin’
feelin’s; here I am; act your will on me.”

Rivenoak made a sign of acquiescence, and then a short conference was
privately held among the chiefs. As soon as the latter ended, three or
four young men fell back from among the armed group, and disappeared. Then
it was signified to the prisoner that he was at liberty to go at large on
the point, until a council was held concerning his fate. There was more of
seeming, than of real confidence, however, in this apparent liberality,
inasmuch as the young men mentioned already formed a line of sentinels
across the breadth of the point, inland, and escape from any other part
was out of the question. Even the canoe was removed beyond this line of
sentinels, to a spot where it was considered safe from any sudden attempt.
These precautions did not proceed from a failure of confidence, but from
the circumstance that the prisoner had now complied with all the required
conditions of his parole, and it would have been considered a commendable
and honorable exploit to escape from his foes. So nice, indeed, were the
distinctions drawn by the savages in cases of this nature, that they often
gave their victims a chance to evade the torture, deeming it as creditable
to the captors to overtake, or to outwit a fugitive, when his exertions
were supposed to be quickened by the extreme jeopardy of his situation, as
it was for him to get clear from so much extraordinary vigilance.

Nor was Deerslayer unconscious of, or forgetful, of his rights and of his
opportunities. Could he now have seen any probable opening for an escape,
the attempt would not have been delayed a minute. But the case seem’d
desperate. He was aware of the line of sentinels, and felt the difficulty
of breaking through it, unharmed. The lake offered no advantages, as the
canoe would have given his foes the greatest facilities for overtaking
him; else would he have found it no difficult task to swim as far as the
castle. As he walked about the point, he even examined the spot to
ascertain if it offered no place of concealment, but its openness, its
size, and the hundred watchful glances that were turned towards him, even
while those who made them affected not to see him, prevented any such
expedient from succeeding. The dread and disgrace of failure had no
influence on Deerslayer, who deemed it even a point of honor to reason and
feel like a white man, rather than as an Indian, and who felt it a sort of
duty to do all he could that did not involve a dereliction from principle,
in order to save his life. Still he hesitated about making the effort, for
he also felt that he ought to see the chance of success before he
committed himself.

In the mean time the business of the camp appeared to proceed in its
regular train. The chiefs consulted apart, admitting no one but the Sumach
to their councils, for she, the widow of the fallen warrior, had an
exclusive right to be heard on such an occasion. The young men strolled
about in indolent listlessness, awaiting the result with Indian patience,
while the females prepared the feast that was to celebrate the termination
of the affair, whether it proved fortunate or otherwise for our hero. No
one betrayed feeling, and an indifferent observer, beyond the extreme
watchfulness of the sentinels, would have detected no extraordinary
movement or sensation to denote the real state of things. Two or three old
women put their heads together, and it appeared unfavorably to the
prospects of Deerslayer, by their scowling looks, and angry gestures; but
a group of Indian girls were evidently animated by a different impulse, as
was apparent by stolen glances that expressed pity and regret. In this
condition of the camp, an hour soon glided away.

Suspense is perhaps the feeling of all others that is most difficult to be
supported. When Deerslayer landed, he fully expected in the course of a
few minutes to undergo the tortures of an Indian revenge, and he was
prepared to meet his fate manfully; but, the delay proved far more trying
than the nearer approach of suffering, and the intended victim began
seriously to meditate some desperate effort at escape, as it might be from
sheer anxiety to terminate the scene, when he was suddenly summoned, to
appear once more in front of his judges, who had already arranged the band
in its former order, in readiness to receive him.

“Killer of the Deer,” commenced Rivenoak, as soon as his captive stood
before him, “my aged men have listened to wise words; they are ready to
speak. You are a man whose fathers came from beyond the rising sun; we are
children of the setting sun; we turn our faces towards the Great Sweet
Lakes, when we look towards our villages. It may be a wide country and
full of riches towards the morning, but it is very pleasant towards the
evening. We love most to look in that direction. When we gaze at the east,
we feel afraid, canoe after canoe bringing more and more of your people in
the track of the sun, as if their land was so full as to run over. The red
men are few already; they have need of help. One of our best lodges has
lately been emptied by the death of its master; it will be a long time
before his son can grow big enough to sit in his place. There is his
widow; she will want venison to feed her and her children, for her sons
are yet like the young of the robin, before they quit the nest. By your
hand has this great calamity befallen her. She has two duties; one to le
Loup Cervier, and one to his children. Scalp for scalp, life for life,
blood for blood, is one law; to feed her young, another. We know you,
Killer of the Deer. You are honest; when you say a thing, it is so. You
have but one tongue, and that is not forked, like a snake’s. Your head is
never hid in the grass; all can see it. What you say, that will you do.
You are just. When you have done wrong, it is your wish to do right,
again, as soon as you can. Here, is the Sumach; she is alone in her
wigwam, with children crying around her for food—yonder is a rifle;
it is loaded and ready to be fired. Take the gun, go forth and shoot a
deer; bring the venison and lay it before the widow of Le Loup Cervier,
feed her children; call yourself her husband. After which, your heart will
no longer be Delaware, but Huron; le Sumach’s ears will not hear the cries
of her children; my people will count the proper number of warriors.”

“I fear’d this, Rivenoak,” answered Deerslayer, when the other had ceased
speaking—“yes, I did dread that it would come to this. Howsever, the
truth is soon told, and that will put an end to all expectations on this
head. Mingo, I’m white and Christian born; ‘t would ill become me to take
a wife, under red-skin forms, from among heathen. That which I wouldn’t
do, in peaceable times, and under a bright sun, still less would I do
behind clouds, in order to save my life. I may never marry; most likely
Providence in putting me up here in the woods, has intended I should live
single, and without a lodge of my own; but should such a thing come to
pass, none but a woman of my own colour and gifts shall darken the door of
my wigwam. As for feeding the young of your dead warrior, I would do that
cheerfully, could it be done without discredit; but it cannot, seeing that
I can never live in a Huron village. Your own young men must find the
Sumach in venison, and the next time she marries, let her take a husband
whose legs are not long enough to overrun territory that don’t belong to
him. We fou’t a fair battle, and he fell; in this there is nothin’ but
what a brave expects, and should be ready to meet. As for getting a Mingo
heart, as well might you expect to see gray hairs on a boy, or the
blackberry growing on the pine. No—no Huron; my gifts are white so
far as wives are consarned; it is Delaware, in all things touchin’
Injins.”

These words were scarcely out of the mouth of Deerslayer, before a common
murmur betrayed the dissatisfaction with which they had been heard. The
aged women, in particular, were loud in their expressions of disgust, and
the gentle Sumach, herself, a woman quite old enough to be our hero’s
mother, was not the least pacific in her denunciations. But all the other
manifestations of disappointment and discontent were thrown into the
background, by the fierce resentment of the Panther. This grim chief had
thought it a degradation to permit his sister to become the wife of a
pale-face of the Yengeese at all, and had only given a reluctant consent
to the arrangement—one by no means unusual among the Indians,
however—at the earnest solicitations of the bereaved widow; and it
goaded him to the quick to find his condescension slighted, the honor he
had with so much regret been persuaded to accord, condemned. The animal
from which he got his name does not glare on his intended prey with more
frightful ferocity than his eyes gleamed on the captive, nor was his arm
backward in seconding the fierce resentment that almost consumed his
breast.

“Dog of the pale-faces!” he exclaimed in Iroquois, “go yell among the curs
of your own evil hunting grounds!”

The denunciation was accompanied by an appropriate action. Even while
speaking his arm was lifted, and the tomahawk hurled. Luckily the loud
tones of the speaker had drawn the eye of Deerslayer towards him, else
would that moment have probably closed his career. So great was the
dexterity with which this dangerous weapon was thrown, and so deadly the
intent, that it would have riven the scull of the prisoner, had he not
stretched forth an arm, and caught the handle in one of its turns, with a
readiness quite as remarkable as the skill with which the missile had been
hurled. The projectile force was so great, notwithstanding, that when
Deerslayer’s arm was arrested, his hand was raised above and behind his
own head, and in the very attitude necessary to return the attack. It is
not certain whether the circumstance of finding himself unexpectedly in
this menacing posture and armed tempted the young man to retaliate, or
whether sudden resentment overcame his forbearance and prudence. His eye
kindled, however, and a small red spot appeared on each cheek, while he
cast all his energy into the effort of his arm, and threw back the weapon
at his assailant. The unexpectedness of this blow contributed to its
success, the Panther neither raising an arm, nor bending his head to avoid
it. The keen little axe struck the victim in a perpendicular line with the
nose, directly between the eyes, literally braining him on the spot.
Sallying forward, as the serpent darts at its enemy even while receiving
its own death wound, this man of powerful frame fell his length into the
open area formed by the circle, quivering in death. A common rush to his
relief left the captive, in a single instant, quite without the crowd,
and, willing to make one desperate effort for life, he bounded off with
the activity of a deer. There was but a breathless instant, when the whole
band, old and young, women and children, abandoning the lifeless body of
the Panther where it lay, raised the yell of alarm and followed in
pursuit.

Sudden as had been the event which induced Deerslayer to make this
desperate trial of speed, his mind was not wholly unprepared for the
fearful emergency. In the course of the past hour, he had pondered well on
the chances of such an experiment, and had shrewdly calculated all the
details of success and failure. At the first leap, therefore, his body was
completely under the direction of an intelligence that turned all its
efforts to the best account, and prevented everything like hesitation or
indecision at the important instant of the start. To this alone was he
indebted for the first great advantage, that of getting through the line
of sentinels unharmed. The manner in which this was done, though
sufficiently simple, merits a description.

Although the shores of the point were not fringed with bushes, as was the
case with most of the others on the lake, it was owing altogether to the
circumstance that the spot had been so much used by hunters and fishermen.
This fringe commenced on what might be termed the main land, and was as
dense as usual, extending in long lines both north and south. In the
latter direction, then, Deerslayer held his way, and, as the sentinels
were a little without the commencement of this thicket, before the alarm
was clearly communicated to them the fugitive had gained its cover. To run
among the bushes, however, was out of the question, and Deerslayer held
his way, for some forty or fifty yards, in the water, which was barely
knee deep, offering as great an obstacle to the speed of his pursuers as
it did to his own. As soon as a favorable spot presented, he darted
through the line of bushes and issued into the open woods. Several rifles
were discharged at Deerslayer while in the water, and more followed as he
came out into the comparative exposure of the clear forest. But the
direction of his line of flight, which partially crossed that of the fire,
the haste with which the weapons had been aimed, and the general confusion
that prevailed in the camp prevented any harm from being done. Bullets
whistled past him, and many cut twigs from the branches at his side, but
not one touched even his dress. The delay caused by these fruitless
attempts was of great service to the fugitive, who had gained more than a
hundred yards on even the leading men of the Hurons, ere something like
concert and order had entered into the chase. To think of following with
rifles in hand was out of the question, and after emptying their pieces in
vague hopes of wounding their captive, the best runners of the Indians
threw them aside, calling out to the women and boys to recover and load
them, again, as soon as possible.

Deerslayer knew too well the desperate nature of the struggle in which he
was engaged to lose one of the precious moments. He also knew that his
only hope was to run in a straight line, for as soon as he began to turn,
or double, the greater number of his pursuers would put escape out of the
question. He held his way therefore, in a diagonal direction up the
acclivity, which was neither very high nor very steep in this part of the
mountain, but which was sufficiently toilsome for one contending for life,
to render it painfully oppressive. There, however, he slackened his speed
to recover breath, proceeding even at a quick walk, or a slow trot, along
the more difficult parts of the way. The Hurons were whooping and leaping
behind him, but this he disregarded, well knowing they must overcome the
difficulties he had surmounted ere they could reach the elevation to which
he had attained. The summit of the first hill was now quite near him, and
he saw, by the formation of the land, that a deep glen intervened before
the base of a second hill could be reached. Walking deliberately to the
summit, he glanced eagerly about him in every direction in quest of a
cover. None offered in the ground, but a fallen tree lay near him, and
desperate circumstances required desperate remedies. This tree lay in a
line parallel to the glen, at the brow of the hill. To leap on it, and
then to force his person as close as possible under its lower side, took
but a moment. Previously to disappearing from his pursuers, however,
Deerslayer stood on the height and gave a cry of triumph, as if exulting
at the sight of the descent that lay before him. In the next instant he
was stretched beneath the tree.

No sooner was this expedient adopted, than the young man ascertained how
desperate had been his own efforts, by the violence of the pulsations in
his frame. He could hear his heart beat, and his breathing was like the
action of a bellows, in quick motion. Breath was gained, however, and the
heart soon ceased to throb as if about to break through its confinement.
The footsteps of those who toiled up the opposite side of the acclivity
were now audible, and presently voices and treads announced the arrival of
the pursuers. The foremost shouted as they reached the height; then,
fearful that their enemy would escape under favor of the descent, each
leaped upon the fallen tree and plunged into the ravine, trusting to get a
sight of the pursued ere he reached the bottom. In this manner, Huron
followed Huron until Natty began to hope the whole had passed. Others
succeeded, however, until quite forty had leaped over the tree, and then
he counted them, as the surest mode of ascertaining how many could be
behind. Presently all were in the bottom of the glen, quite a hundred feet
below him, and some had even ascended part of the opposite hill, when it
became evident an inquiry was making as to the direction he had taken.
This was the critical moment, and one of nerves less steady, or of a
training that had been neglected, would have seized it to rise and fly.
Not so with Deerslayer. He still lay quiet, watching with jealous
vigilance every movement below, and fast regaining his breath.

The Hurons now resembled a pack of hounds at fault. Little was said, but
each man ran about, examining the dead leaves as the hound hunts for the
lost scent. The great number of moccasins that had passed made the
examination difficult, though the in-toe of an Indian was easily to be
distinguished from the freer and wider step of a white man. Believing that
no more pursuers remained behind, and hoping to steal away unseen,
Deerslayer suddenly threw himself over the tree, and fell on the upper
side. This achievement appeared to be effected successfully, and hope beat
high in the bosom of the fugitive.

Rising to his hands and feet, after a moment lost in listening to the
sounds in the glen, in order to ascertain if he had been seen, the young
man next scrambled to the top of the hill, a distance of only ten yards,
in the expectation of getting its brow between him and his pursuers, and
himself so far under cover. Even this was effected, and he rose to his
feet, walking swiftly but steadily along the summit, in a direction
opposite to that in which he had first fled. The nature of the calls in
the glen, however, soon made him uneasy, and he sprang upon the summit
again, in order to reconnoitre. No sooner did he reach the height than he
was seen, and the chase renewed. As it was better footing on the level
ground, Deerslayer now avoided the side hill, holding his flight along the
ridge; while the Hurons, judging from the general formation of the land,
saw that the ridge would soon melt into the hollow, and kept to the
latter, as the easiest mode of heading the fugitive. A few, at the same
time, turned south, with a view to prevent his escaping in that direction,
while some crossed his trail towards the water, in order to prevent his
retreat by the lake, running southerly.

The situation of Deerslayer was now more critical than it ever had been.
He was virtually surrounded on three sides, having the lake on the fourth.
But he had pondered well on all the chances, and took his measures with
coolness, even while at the top of his speed. As is generally the case
with the vigorous border men, he could outrun any single Indian among his
pursuers, who were principally formidable to him on account of their
numbers, and the advantages they possessed in position, and he would not
have hesitated to break off in a straight line at any spot, could he have
got the whole band again fairly behind him. But no such chance did, or
indeed could now offer, and when he found that he was descending towards
the glen, by the melting away of the ridge, he turned short, at right
angles to his previous course, and went down the declivity with tremendous
velocity, holding his way towards the shore. Some of his pursuers came
panting up the hill in direct chase, while most still kept on in the
ravine, intending to head him at its termination.

Deerslayer had now a different, though a desperate project in view.
Abandoning all thoughts of escape by the woods, he made the best of his
way towards the canoe. He knew where it lay; could it be reached, he had
only to run the gauntlet of a few rifles, and success would be certain.
None of the warriors had kept their weapons, which would have retarded
their speed, and the risk would come either from the uncertain hands of
the women, or from those of some well grown boy; though most of the latter
were already out in hot pursuit. Everything seemed propitious to the
execution of this plan, and the course being a continued descent, the
young man went over the ground at a rate that promised a speedy
termination to his toil.

As Deerslayer approached the point, several women and children were
passed, but, though the former endeavoured to cast dried branches between
his legs, the terror inspired by his bold retaliation on the redoubted
Panther was so great, that none dared come near enough seriously to molest
him. He went by all triumphantly and reached the fringe of bushes.
Plunging through these, our hero found himself once more in the lake, and
within fifty feet of the canoe. Here he ceased to run, for he well
understood that his breath was now all important to him. He even stooped,
as he advanced, and cooled his parched mouth by scooping water up in his
hand to drink. Still the moments pressed, and he soon stood at the side of
the canoe. The first glance told him that the paddles had been removed!
This was a sore disappointment, after all his efforts, and, for a single
moment, he thought of turning, and of facing his foes by walking with
dignity into the centre of the camp again. But an infernal yell, such as
the American savage alone can raise, proclaimed the quick approach of the
nearest of his pursuers, and the instinct of life triumphed. Preparing
himself duly, and giving a right direction to its bows, he ran off into
the water bearing the canoe before him, threw all his strength and skill
into a last effort, and cast himself forward so as to fall into the bottom
of the light craft without materially impeding its way. Here he remained
on his back, both to regain his breath and to cover his person from the
deadly rifle. The lightness, which was such an advantage in paddling the
canoe, now operated unfavorably. The material was so like a feather, that
the boat had no momentum, else would the impulse in that smooth and placid
sheet have impelled it to a distance from the shore that would have
rendered paddling with the hands safe. Could such a point once be reached,
Deerslayer thought he might get far enough out to attract the attention of
Chingachgook and Judith, who would not fail to come to his relief with
other canoes, a circumstance that promised everything. As the young man
lay in the bottom of the canoe, he watched its movements by studying the
tops of the trees on the mountainside, and judged of his distance by the
time and the motions. Voices on the shore were now numerous, and he heard
something said about manning the raft, which, fortunately for the
fugitive, lay at a considerable distance on the other side of the point.

Perhaps the situation of Deerslayer had not been more critical that day
than it was at this moment. It certainly had not been one half as
tantalizing. He lay perfectly quiet for two or three minutes, trusting to
the single sense of hearing, confident that the noise in the lake would
reach his ears, did any one venture to approach by swimming. Once or twice
he fancied that the element was stirred by the cautious movement of an
arm, and then he perceived it was the wash of the water on the pebbles of
the strand; for, in mimicry of the ocean, it is seldom that those little
lakes are so totally tranquil as not to possess a slight heaving and
setting on their shores. Suddenly all the voices ceased, and a death like
stillness pervaded the spot: A quietness as profound as if all lay in the
repose of inanimate life. By this time, the canoe had drifted so far as to
render nothing visible to Deerslayer, as he lay on his back, except the
blue void of space, and a few of those brighter rays that proceed from the
effulgence of the sun, marking his proximity. It was not possible to
endure this uncertainty long. The young man well knew that the profound
stillness foreboded evil, the savages never being so silent as when about
to strike a blow; resembling the stealthy foot of the panther ere he takes
his leap. He took out a knife and was about to cut a hole through the
bark, in order to get a view of the shore, when he paused from a dread of
being seen in the operation, which would direct the enemy where to aim
their bullets. At this instant a rifle was fired, and the ball pierced
both sides of the canoe, within eighteen inches of the spot where his head
lay. This was close work, but our hero had too lately gone through that
which was closer to be appalled. He lay still half a minute longer, and
then he saw the summit of an oak coming slowly within his narrow horizon.

Unable to account for this change, Deerslayer could restrain his
impatience no longer. Hitching his body along, with the utmost caution, he
got his eye at the bullet hole, and fortunately commanded a very tolerable
view of the point. The canoe, by one of those imperceptible impulses that
so often decide the fate of men as well as the course of things, had
inclined southerly, and was slowly drifting down the lake. It was lucky
that Deerslayer had given it a shove sufficiently vigorous to send it past
the end of the point, ere it took this inclination, or it must have gone
ashore again. As it was, it drifted so near it as to bring the tops of two
or three trees within the range of the young man’s view, as has been
mentioned, and, indeed, to come in quite as close proximity with the
extremity of the point as was at all safe. The distance could not much
have exceeded a hundred feet, though fortunately a light current of air
from the southwest began to set it slowly off shore.

Deerslayer now felt the urgent necessity of resorting to some expedient to
get farther from his foes, and if possible to apprise his friends of his
situation. The distance rendered the last difficult, while the proximity
to the point rendered the first indispensable. As was usual in such craft,
a large, round, smooth stone was in each end of the canoe, for the double
purpose of seats and ballast; one of these was within reach of his feet.
This stone he contrived to get so far between his legs as to reach it with
his hands, and then he managed to roll it to the side of its fellow in the
bows, where the two served to keep the trim of the light boat, while he
worked his own body as far aft as possible. Before quitting the shore, and
as soon as he perceived that the paddles were gone, Deerslayer had thrown
a bit of dead branch into the canoe, and this was within reach of his arm.
Removing the cap he wore, he put it on the end of this stick, and just let
it appear over the edge of the canoe, as far as possible from his own
person. This ruse was scarcely adopted before the young man had a proof
how much he had underrated the intelligence of his enemies. In contempt of
an artifice so shallow and common place, a bullet was fired directly
through another part of the canoe, which actually raised his skin. He
dropped the cap, and instantly raised it immediately over his head, as a
safeguard. It would seem that this second artifice was unseen, or what was
more probable, the Hurons feeling certain of recovering their captive,
wished to take him alive.

Deerslayer lay passive a few minutes longer, his eye at the bullet hole,
however, and much did he rejoice at seeing that he was drifting,
gradually, farther and farther from the shore. When he looked upward, the
treetops had disappeared, but he soon found that the canoe was slowly
turning, so as to prevent his getting a view of anything at his peephole,
but of the two extremities of the lake. He now bethought him of the stick,
which was crooked and offered some facilities for rowing without the
necessity of rising. The experiment succeeded on trial, better even than
he had hoped, though his great embarrassment was to keep the canoe
straight. That his present manoeuvre was seen soon became apparent by the
clamor on the shore, and a bullet entering the stern of the canoe
traversed its length, whistling between the arms of our hero, and passed
out at the head. This satisfied the fugitive that he was getting away with
tolerable speed, and induced him to increase his efforts. He was making a
stronger push than common, when another messenger from the point broke the
stick out-board, and at once deprived him of his oar. As the sound of
voices seemed to grow more and more distant, however, Deerslayer
determined to leave all to the drift, until he believed himself beyond the
reach of bullets. This was nervous work, but it was the wisest of all the
expedients that offered, and the young man was encouraged to persevere in
it by the circumstance that he felt his face fanned by the air, a proof
that there was a little more wind.


Chapter XXVIII.

By this time Deerslayer had been twenty minutes in the canoe, and he began
to grow a little impatient for some signs of relief from his friends. The
position of the boat still prevented his seeing in any direction, unless
it were up or down the lake, and, though he knew that his line of sight
must pass within a hundred yards of the castle, it, in fact, passed that
distance to the westward of the buildings. The profound stillness troubled
him also, for he knew not whether to ascribe it to the increasing space
between him and the Indians, or to some new artifice. At length, wearied
with fruitless watchfulness, the young man turned himself on his back,
closed his eyes, and awaited the result in determined acquiescence. If the
savages could so completely control their thirst for revenge, he was
resolved to be as calm as themselves, and to trust his fate to the
interposition of the currents and air.

Some additional ten minutes may have passed in this quiescent manner, on
both sides, when Deerslayer thought he heard a slight noise, like a low
rubbing against the bottom of his canoe. He opened his eyes of course, in
expectation of seeing the face or arm of an Indian rising from the water,
and found that a canopy of leaves was impending directly over his head.
Starting to his feet, the first object that met his eye was Rivenoak, who
had so far aided the slow progress of the boat, as to draw it on the
point, the grating on the strand being the sound that had first given our
hero the alarm. The change in the drift of the canoe had been altogether
owing to the baffling nature of the light currents of the air, aided by
some eddies in the water.

“Come,” said the Huron with a quiet gesture of authority, to order his
prisoner to land, “my young friend has sailed about till he is tired; he
will forget how to run again, unless he uses his legs.”

“You’ve the best of it, Huron,” returned Deerslayer, stepping steadily
from the canoe, and passively following his leader to the open area of the
point; “Providence has helped you in an onexpected manner. I’m your
prisoner ag’in, and I hope you’ll allow that I’m as good at breaking gaol,
as I am at keeping furloughs.”

“My young friend is a Moose!” exclaimed the Huron. “His legs are very
long; they have given my young men trouble. But he is not a fish; he
cannot find his way in the lake. We did not shoot him; fish are taken in
nets, and not killed by bullets. When he turns Moose again he will be
treated like a Moose.”

“Ay, have your talk, Rivenoak; make the most of your advantage. ‘Tis your
right, I suppose, and I know it is your gift. On that p’int there’ll be no
words atween us, for all men must and ought to follow their gifts.
Howsever, when your women begin to ta’nt and abuse me, as I suppose will
soon happen, let ’em remember that if a pale-face struggles for life so
long as it’s lawful and manful, he knows how to loosen his hold on it,
decently, when he feels that the time has come. I’m your captyve; work
your will on me.”

“My brother has had a long run on the hills, and a pleasant sail on the
water,” returned Rivenoak more mildly, smiling, at the same time, in a way
that his listener knew denoted pacific intentions. “He has seen the woods;
he has seen the water. Which does he like best? Perhaps he has seen enough
to change his mind, and make him hear reason.”

“Speak out, Huron. Something is in your thoughts, and the sooner it is
said, the sooner you’ll get my answer.”

“That is straight! There is no turning in the talk of my pale-face friend,
though he is a fox in running. I will speak to him; his ears are now open
wider than before, and his eyes are not shut. The Sumach is poorer than
ever. Once she had a brother and a husband. She had children, too. The
time came and the husband started for the Happy Hunting Grounds, without
saying farewell; he left her alone with his children. This he could not
help, or he would not have done it; le Loup Cervier was a good husband. It
was pleasant to see the venison, and wild ducks, and geese, and bear’s
meat, that hung in his lodge in winter. It is now gone; it will not keep
in warm weather. Who shall bring it back again? Some thought the brother
would not forget his sister, and that, next winter, he would see that the
lodge should not be empty. We thought this; but the Panther yelled, and
followed the husband on the path of death. They are now trying which shall
first reach the Happy Hunting Grounds. Some think the Lynx can run
fastest, and some think the Panther can jump the farthest. The Sumach
thinks both will travel so fast and so far that neither will ever come
back. Who shall feed her and her young? The man who told her husband and
her brother to quit her lodge, that there might be room for him to come
into it. He is a great hunter, and we know that the woman will never
want.”

“Ay, Huron this is soon settled, accordin’ to your notions, but it goes
sorely ag’in the grain of a white man’s feelin’s. I’ve heard of men’s
saving their lives this-a-way, and I’ve know’d them that would prefar
death to such a sort of captivity. For my part, I do not seek my end, nor
do I seek matrimony.”

“The pale-face will think of this, while my people get ready for the
council. He will be told what will happen. Let him remember how hard it is
to lose a husband and a brother. Go; when we want him, the name of
Deerslayer will be called.”

This conversation had been held with no one near but the speakers. Of all
the band that had so lately thronged the place, Rivenoak alone was
visible. The rest seemed to have totally abandoned the spot. Even the
furniture, clothes, arms, and other property of the camp had entirely
disappeared, and the place bore no other proofs of the crowd that had so
lately occupied it, than the traces of their fires and resting places, and
the trodden earth that still showed the marks of their feet. So sudden and
unexpected a change caused Deerslayer a good deal of surprise and some
uneasiness, for he had never known it to occur, in the course of his
experience among the Delawares. He suspected, however, and rightly, that a
change of encampment was intended, and that the mystery of the movement
was resorted to in order to work on his apprehensions.

Rivenoak walked up the vista of trees as soon as he ceased speaking,
leaving Deerslayer by himself. The chief disappeared behind the covers of
the forest, and one unpractised in such scenes might have believed the
prisoner left to the dictates of his own judgment. But the young man,
while he felt a little amazement at the dramatic aspect of things, knew
his enemies too well to fancy himself at liberty, or a free agent. Still,
he was ignorant how far the Hurons meant to carry their artifices, and he
determined to bring the question, as soon as practicable, to the proof.
Affecting an indifference he was far from feeling, he strolled about the
area, gradually getting nearer and nearer to the spot where he had landed,
when he suddenly quickened his pace, though carefully avoiding all
appearance of flight, and pushing aside the bushes, he stepped upon the
beach. The canoe was gone, nor could he see any traces of it, after
walking to the northern and southern verges of the point, and examining
the shores in both directions. It was evidently removed beyond his reach
and knowledge, and under circumstances to show that such had been the
intention of the savages.

Deerslayer now better understood his actual situation. He was a prisoner
on the narrow tongue of land, vigilantly watched beyond a question, and
with no other means of escape than that of swimming. He, again, thought of
this last expedient, but the certainty that the canoe would be sent in
chase, and the desperate nature of the chances of success deterred him
from the undertaking. While on the strand, he came to a spot where the
bushes had been cut, and thrust into a small pile. Removing a few of the
upper branches, he found beneath them the dead body of the Panther. He
knew that it was kept until the savages might find a place to inter it,
where it would be beyond the reach of the scalping knife. He gazed
wistfully towards the castle, but there all seemed to be silent and
desolate, and a feeling of loneliness and desertion came over him to
increase the gloom of the moment.

“God’s will be done!” murmured the young man, as he walked sorrowfully
away from the beach, entering again beneath the arches of the wood. “God’s
will be done, on ‘arth as it is in heaven! I did hope that my days would
not be numbered so soon, but it matters little a’ter all. A few more
winters, and a few more summers, and ‘twould have been over, accordin’ to
natur’. Ah’s! me, the young and actyve seldom think death possible, till
he grins in their faces, and tells ’em the hour is come!”

While this soliloquy was being pronounced, the hunter advanced into the
area, where to his surprise he saw Hetty alone, evidently awaiting his
return. The girl carried the Bible under her arm, and her face, over which
a shadow of gentle melancholy was usually thrown, now seemed sad and
downcast. Moving nearer, Deerslayer spoke.

“Poor Hetty,” he said, “times have been so troublesome, of late, that I’d
altogether forgotten you; we meet, as it might be to mourn over what is to
happen. I wonder what has become of Chingachgook and Wah!”

“Why did you kill the Huron, Deerslayer?—” returned the girl
reproachfully. “Don’t you know your commandments, which say ‘Thou shalt
not kill!’ They tell me you have now slain the woman’s husband and
brother!”

“It’s true, my good Hetty—’tis gospel truth, and I’ll not deny what
has come to pass. But, you must remember, gal, that many things are lawful
in war, which would be onlawful in peace. The husband was shot in open
fight—or, open so far as I was consarned, while he had a better
cover than common—and the brother brought his end on himself, by
casting his tomahawk at an unarmed prisoner. Did you witness that deed,
gal?”

“I saw it, and was sorry it happened, Deerslayer, for I hoped you wouldn’t
have returned blow for blow, but good for evil.”

“Ah, Hetty, that may do among the Missionaries, but ‘twould make an
onsartain life in the woods! The Panther craved my blood, and he was
foolish enough to throw arms into my hands, at the very moment he was
striving a’ter it. ‘Twould have been ag’in natur’ not to raise a hand in
such a trial, and ‘twould have done discredit to my training and gifts. No—no—I’m
as willing to give every man his own as another, and so I hope you’ll
testify to them that will be likely to question you as to what you’ve seen
this day.”

“Deerslayer, do you mean to marry Sumach, now she has neither husband nor
brother to feed her?”

“Are such your idees of matrimony, Hetty! Ought the young to wive with the
old—the pale-face with the red-skin—the Christian with the
heathen? It’s ag’in reason and natur’, and so you’ll see, if you think of
it a moment.”

“I’ve always heard mother say,” returned Hetty, averting her face more
from a feminine instinct than from any consciousness of wrong, “that
people should never marry until they loved each other better than brothers
and sisters, and I suppose that is what you mean. Sumach is old, and you
are young!”

“Ay and she’s red, and I’m white. Beside, Hetty, suppose you was a wife,
now, having married some young man of your own years, and state, and
colour—Hurry Harry, for instance—” Deerslayer selected this
example simply from the circumstance that he was the only young man known
to both—“and that he had fallen on a war path, would you wish to
take to your bosom, for a husband, the man that slew him?”

“Oh! no, no, no—” returned the girl shuddering—“That would be
wicked as well as heartless! No Christian girl could, or would do that! I
never shall be the wife of Hurry, I know, but were he my husband no man
should ever be it, again, after his death!”

“I thought it would get to this, Hetty, when you come to understand
sarcumstances. ‘Tis a moral impossibility that I should ever marry Sumach,
and, though Injin weddin’s have no priests and not much religion, a white
man who knows his gifts and duties can’t profit by that, and so make his
escape at the fitting time. I do think death would be more nat’ral like,
and welcome, than wedlock with this woman.”

“Don’t say it too loud,” interrupted Hetty impatiently; “I suppose she
will not like to hear it. I’m sure Hurry would rather marry even me than
suffer torments, though I am feeble minded; and I am sure it would kill me
to think he’d prefer death to being my husband.”

“Ay, gal, you ain’t Sumach, but a comely young Christian, with a good
heart, pleasant smile, and kind eye. Hurry might be proud to get you, and
that, too, not in misery and sorrow, but in his best and happiest days.
Howsever, take my advice, and never talk to Hurry about these things; he’s
only a borderer, at the best.”

“I wouldn’t tell him, for the world!” exclaimed the girl, looking about
her like one affrighted, and blushing, she knew not why. “Mother always
said young women shouldn’t be forward, and speak their minds before
they’re asked; Oh! I never forget what mother told me. ‘Tis a pity Hurry
is so handsome, Deerslayer; I do think fewer girls would like him then,
and he would sooner know his own mind.”

“Poor gal, poor gal, it’s plain enough how it is, but the Lord will bear
in mind one of your simple heart and kind feelin’s! We’ll talk no more of
these things; if you had reason, you’d be sorrowful at having let others
so much into your secret. Tell me, Hetty, what has become of all the
Hurons, and why they let you roam about the p’int as if you, too, was a
prisoner?”

“I’m no prisoner, Deerslayer, but a free girl, and go when and where I
please. Nobody dare hurt me! If they did, God would be angry, as I can
show them in the Bible. No—no—Hetty Hutter is not afraid;
she’s in good hands. The Hurons are up yonder in the woods, and keep a
good watch on us both, I’ll answer for it, since all the women and
children are on the look-out. Some are burying the body of the poor girl
who was shot, so that the enemy and the wild beasts can’t find it. I told
’em that father and mother lay in the lake, but I wouldn’t let them know
in what part of it, for Judith and I don’t want any of their heathenish
company in our burying ground.”

“Ahs! me; Well, it is an awful despatch to be standing here, alive and
angry, and with the feelin’s up and ferocious, one hour, and then to be
carried away at the next, and put out of sight of mankind in a hole in the
‘arth! No one knows what will happen to him on a warpath, that’s sartain.”

Here the stirring of leaves and the cracking of dried twigs interrupted
the discourse, and apprised Deerslayer of the approach of his enemies. The
Hurons closed around the spot that had been prepared for the coming scene,
and in the centre of which the intended victim now stood, in a circle, the
armed men being so distributed among the feebler members of the band, that
there was no safe opening through which the prisoner could break. But the
latter no longer contemplated flight, the recent trial having satisfied
him of his inability to escape when pursued so closely by numbers. On the
contrary, all his energies were aroused in order to meet his expected
fate, with a calmness that should do credit to his colour and his manhood;
one equally removed from recreant alarm, and savage boasting.

When Rivenoak re-appeared in the circle, he occupied his old place at the
head of the area. Several of the elder warriors stood near him, but, now
that the brother of Sumach had fallen, there was no longer any recognised
chief present whose influence and authority offered a dangerous rivalry to
his own. Nevertheless, it is well known that little which could be called
monarchical or despotic entered into the politics of the North American
tribes, although the first colonists, bringing with them to this
hemisphere the notions and opinions of their own countries, often
dignified the chief men of those primitive nations with the titles of
kings and princes. Hereditary influence did certainly exist, but there is
much reason to believe it existed rather as a consequence of hereditary
merit and acquired qualifications, than as a birthright. Rivenoak,
however, had not even this claim, having risen to consideration purely by
the force of talents, sagacity, and, as Bacon expresses it in relation to
all distinguished statesmen, “by a union of great and mean qualities;” a
truth of which the career of the profound Englishman himself furnishes so
apt an illustration. Next to arms, eloquence offers the great avenue to
popular favor, whether it be in civilized or savage life, and Rivenoak had
succeeded, as so many have succeeded before him, quite as much by
rendering fallacies acceptable to his listeners, as by any profound or
learned expositions of truth, or the accuracy of his logic. Nevertheless,
he had influence; and was far from being altogether without just claims to
its possession. Like most men who reason more than they feel, the Huron
was not addicted to the indulgence of the more ferocious passions of his
people: he had been commonly found on the side of mercy, in all the scenes
of vindictive torture and revenge that had occurred in his tribe since his
own attainment to power. On the present occasion, he was reluctant to
proceed to extremities, although the provocation was so great. Still it
exceeded his ingenuity to see how that alternative could well be avoided.
Sumach resented her rejection more than she did the deaths of her husband
and brother, and there was little probability that the woman would pardon
a man who had so unequivocally preferred death to her embraces. Without
her forgiveness, there was scarce a hope that the tribe could be induced
to overlook its loss, and even to Rivenoak, himself, much as he was
disposed to pardon, the fate of our hero now appeared to be almost
hopelessly sealed.

When the whole band was arrayed around the captive, a grave silence, so
much the more threatening from its profound quiet, pervaded the place.
Deerslayer perceived that the women and boys had been preparing splinters
of the fat pine roots, which he well knew were to be stuck into his flesh,
and set in flames, while two or three of the young men held the thongs of
bark with which he was to be bound. The smoke of a distant fire announced
that the burning brands were in preparation, and several of the elder
warriors passed their fingers over the edges of their tomahawks, as if to
prove their keenness and temper. Even the knives seemed loosened in their
sheathes, impatient for the bloody and merciless work to begin.

“Killer of the Deer,” recommenced Rivenoak, certainly without any signs of
sympathy or pity in his manner, though with calmness and dignity, “Killer
of the Deer, it is time that my people knew their minds. The sun is no
longer over our heads; tired of waiting on the Hurons, he has begun to
fall near the pines on this side of the valley. He is travelling fast
towards the country of our French fathers; it is to warn his children that
their lodges are empty, and that they ought to be at home. The roaming
wolf has his den, and he goes to it when he wishes to see his young. The
Iroquois are not poorer than the wolves. They have villages, and wigwams,
and fields of corn; the Good Spirits will be tired of watching them alone.
My people must go back and see to their own business. There will be joy in
the lodges when they hear our whoop from the forest! It will be a
sorrowful whoop; when it is understood, grief will come after it. There
will be one scalp-whoop, but there will be only one. We have the fur of
the Muskrat; his body is among the fishes. Deerslayer must say whether
another scalp shall be on our pole. Two lodges are empty; a scalp, living
or dead, is wanted at each door.”

“Then take ’em dead, Huron,” firmly, but altogether without dramatic
boasting, returned the captive. “My hour is come, I do suppose, and what
must be, must. If you are bent on the tortur’, I’ll do my indivours to
bear up ag’in it, though no man can say how far his natur’ will stand
pain, until he’s been tried.”

“The pale-face cur begins to put his tail between his legs!” cried a young
and garrulous savage, who bore the appropriate title of the Corbeau Rouge;
a sobriquet he had gained from the French by his facility in making
unseasonable noises, and an undue tendency to hear his own voice; “he is
no warrior; he has killed the Loup Cervier when looking behind him not to
see the flash of his own rifle. He grunts like a hog, already; when the
Huron women begin to torment him, he will cry like the young of the
catamount. He is a Delaware woman, dressed in the skin of a Yengeese!”

“Have your say, young man; have your say,” returned Deerslayer, unmoved;
“you know no better, and I can overlook it. Talking may aggravate women,
but can hardly make knives sharper, fire hotter, or rifles more sartain.”

Rivenoak now interposed, reproving the Red Crow for his premature
interference, and then directing the proper persons to bind the captive.
This expedient was adopted, not from any apprehensions that he would
escape, or from any necessity that was yet apparent of his being unable to
endure the torture with his limbs free, but from an ingenious design of
making him feel his helplessness, and of gradually sapping his resolution
by undermining it, as it might be, little by little. Deerslayer offered no
resistance. He submitted his arms and legs, freely if not cheerfully, to
the ligaments of bark, which were bound around them by order of the chief,
in a way to produce as little pain as possible. These directions were
secret, and given in the hope that the captive would finally save himself
from any serious bodily suffering by consenting to take the Sumach for a
wife. As soon as the body of Deerslayer was withed in bark sufficiently to
create a lively sense of helplessness, he was literally carried to a young
tree, and bound against it in a way that effectually prevented him from
moving, as well as from falling. The hands were laid flat against the
legs, and thongs were passed over all, in a way nearly to incorporate the
prisoner with the tree. His cap was then removed, and he was left
half-standing, half-sustained by his bonds, to face the coming scene in
the best manner he could.

Previously to proceeding to any thing like extremities, it was the wish of
Rivenoak to put his captive’s resolution to the proof by renewing the
attempt at a compromise. This could be effected only in one manner, the
acquiescence of the Sumach being indispensably necessary to a compromise
of her right to be revenged. With this view, then, the woman was next
desired to advance, and to look to her own interests; no agent being
considered as efficient as the principal, herself, in this negotiation.
The Indian females, when girls, are usually mild and submissive, with
musical tones, pleasant voices and merry laughs, but toil and suffering
generally deprive them of most of these advantages by the time they have
reached an age which the Sumach had long before passed. To render their
voices harsh, it would seem to require active, malignant, passions,
though, when excited, their screams can rise to a sufficiently conspicuous
degree of discordancy to assert their claim to possess this distinctive
peculiarity of the sex. The Sumach was not altogether without feminine
attraction, however, and had so recently been deemed handsome in her
tribe, as not to have yet learned the full influence that time and
exposure produce on man, as well as on woman. By an arrangement of
Rivenoak’s, some of the women around her had been employing the time in
endeavoring to persuade the bereaved widow that there was still a hope
Deerslayer might be prevailed on to enter her wigwam, in preference to
entering the world of spirits, and this, too, with a success that previous
symptoms scarcely justified. All this was the result of a resolution on
the part of the chief to leave no proper means unemployed, in order to get
transferred to his own nation the greatest hunter that was then thought to
exist in all that region, as well as a husband for a woman who he felt
would be likely to be troublesome, were any of her claims to the attention
and care of the tribe overlooked.

In conformity with this scheme, the Sumach had been secretly advised to
advance into the circle, and to make her appeal to the prisoner’s sense of
justice, before the band had recourse to the last experiment. The woman,
nothing loth, consented, for there was some such attraction in becoming
the wife of a noted hunter, among the females of the tribes, as is
experienced by the sex, in more refined life, when they bestow their hands
on the affluent. As the duties of a mother were thought to be paramount to
all other considerations, the widow felt none of that embarrassment, in
preferring her claims, to which even a female fortune hunter among
ourselves might be liable. When she stood forth before the whole party,
therefore, the children that she led by the hands fully justified all she
did.

“You see me before you, cruel pale-face,” the woman commenced; “your
spirit must tell you my errand. I have found you; I cannot find le Loup
Cervier, nor the Panther; I have looked for them in the lake, in the
woods, in the clouds. I cannot say where they have gone.”

“No man knows, good Sumach, no man knows,” interposed the captive. “When
the spirit leaves the body, it passes into a world beyond our knowledge,
and the wisest way, for them that are left behind, is to hope for the
best. No doubt both your warriors have gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds,
and at the proper time you will see ’em ag’in, in their improved state.
The wife and sister of braves must have looked forward to some such
tarmination of their ‘arthly careers.”

“Cruel pale-face, what had my warriors done that you should slay them!
They were the best hunters, and the boldest young men of their tribe; the
Great Spirit intended that they should live until they withered like the
branches of the hemlock, and fell of their own weight—”

“Nay—nay—good Sumach,” interrupted Deerslayer, whose love of
truth was too indomitable to listen to such hyperbole with patience, even
though it came from the torn breast of a widow—“Nay—nay, good
Sumach, this is a little outdoing red-skin privileges. Young man was
neither, any more than you can be called a young woman, and as to the
Great Spirit’s intending that they should fall otherwise than they did,
that’s a grievous mistake, inasmuch as what the Great Spirit intends is
sartain to come to pass. Then, agin, it’s plain enough neither of your
fri’nds did me any harm; I raised my hand ag’in ’em on account of what
they were striving to do, rather than what they did. This is nat’ral law,
‘to do lest you should be done by.’”

“It is so. Sumach has but one tongue; she can tell but one story. The pale
face struck the Hurons lest the Hurons should strike him. The Hurons are a
just nation; they will forget it. The chiefs will shut their eyes and
pretend not to have seen it; the young men will believe the Panther and
the Lynx have gone to far off hunts, and the Sumach will take her children
by the hand, and go into the lodge of the pale-face and say—’See;
these are your children; they are also mine—feed us, and we will
live with you.’”

“The tarms are onadmissable, woman, and though I feel for your losses,
which must be hard to bear, the tarms cannot be accepted. As to givin’ you
ven’son, in case we lived near enough together, that would be no great
expl’ite; but as for becomin’ your husband, and the father of your
children, to be honest with you, I feel no callin’ that-a-way.”

“Look at this boy, cruel pale-face; he has no father to teach him to kill
the deer, or to take scalps. See this girl; what young man will come to
look for a wife in a lodge that has no head? There are more among my
people in the Canadas, and the Killer of Deer will find as many mouths to
feed as his heart can wish for.”

“I tell you, woman,” exclaimed Deerslayer, whose imagination was far from
seconding the appeal of the widow, and who began to grow restive under the
vivid pictures she was drawing, “all this is nothing to me. People and
kindred must take care of their own fatherless, leaving them that have no
children to their own loneliness. As for me, I have no offspring, and I
want no wife. Now, go away Sumach; leave me in the hands of your chiefs,
for my colour, and gifts, and natur’ itself cry out ag’in the idee of
taking you for a wife.”

It is unnecessary to expatiate on the effect of this downright refusal of
the woman’s proposals. If there was anything like tenderness in her bosom—and
no woman was probably ever entirely without that feminine quality—it
all disappeared at this plain announcement. Fury, rage, mortified pride,
and a volcano of wrath burst out, at one explosion, converting her into a
sort of maniac, as it might beat the touch of a magician’s wand. Without
deigning a reply in words, she made the arches of the forest ring with
screams, and then flew forward at her victim, seizing him by the hair,
which she appeared resolute to draw out by the roots. It was some time
before her grasp could be loosened. Fortunately for the prisoner her rage
was blind; since his total helplessness left him entirely at her mercy.
Had it been better directed it might have proved fatal before any relief
could have been offered. As it was, she did succeed in wrenching out two
or three handsful of hair, before the young men could tear her away from
her victim.

The insult that had been offered to the Sumach was deemed an insult to the
whole tribe; not so much, however, on account of any respect that was felt
for the woman, as on account of the honor of the Huron nation. Sumach,
herself, was generally considered to be as acid as the berry from which
she derived her name, and now that her great supporters, her husband and
brother, were both gone, few cared about concealing their aversion.
Nevertheless, it had become a point of honor to punish the pale-face who
disdained a Huron woman, and more particularly one who coolly preferred
death to relieving the tribe from the support of a widow and her children.
The young men showed an impatience to begin to torture that Rivenoak
understood, and, as his older associates manifested no disposition to
permit any longer delay, he was compelled to give the signal for the
infernal work to proceed.


Chapter XXIX.

‘Twas one of the common expedients of the savages, on such occasions, to
put the nerves of their victims to the severest proofs. On the other hand,
it was a matter of Indian pride to betray no yielding to terror, or pain,
but for the prisoner to provoke his enemies to such acts of violence as
would soonest produce death. Many a warrior had been known to bring his
own sufferings to a more speedy termination, by taunting reproaches and
reviling language, when he found that his physical system was giving way
under the agony of sufferings produced by a hellish ingenuity that might
well eclipse all that has been said of the infernal devices of religious
persecution. This happy expedient of taking refuge from the ferocity of
his foes, in their passions, was denied Deerslayer however, by his
peculiar notions of the duty of a white man, and he had stoutly made up
his mind to endure everything, in preference to disgracing his colour.

No sooner did the young men understand that they were at liberty to
commence, than some of the boldest and most forward among them sprang into
the arena, tomahawk in hand. Here they prepared to throw that dangerous
weapon, the object being to strike the tree as near as possible to the
victim’s head, without absolutely hitting him. This was so hazardous an
experiment that none but those who were known to be exceedingly expert
with the weapon were allowed to enter the lists at all, lest an early
death might interfere with the expected entertainment. In the truest hands
it was seldom that the captive escaped injury in these trials, and it
often happened that death followed, even when the blow was not
premeditated. In the particular case of our hero, Rivenoak and the older
warriors were apprehensive that the example of the Panther’s fate might
prove a motive with some fiery spirit suddenly to sacrifice his conqueror,
when the temptation of effecting it in precisely the same manner, and
possibly with the identical weapon with which the warrior had fallen,
offered. This circumstance of itself rendered the ordeal of the tomahawk
doubly critical for the Deerslayer. It would seem, however, that all who
now entered what we shall call the lists, were more disposed to exhibit
their own dexterity, than to resent the deaths of their comrades. Each
prepared himself for the trial with the feelings of rivalry, rather than
with the desire for vengeance, and, for the first few minutes, the
prisoner had little more connection with the result, than grew out of the
interest that necessarily attached itself to a living target. The young
men were eager, instead of being fierce, and Rivenoak thought he still saw
signs of being able to save the life of the captive when the vanity of the
young men had been gratified; always admitting that it was not sacrificed
to the delicate experiments that were about to be made. The first youth
who presented himself for the trial was called The Raven, having as yet
had no opportunity of obtaining a more warlike sobriquet. He was
remarkable for high pretension, rather than for skill or exploits, and
those who knew his character thought the captive in imminent danger when
he took his stand, and poised the tomahawk. Nevertheless, the young man
was good natured, and no thought was uppermost in his mind other than the
desire to make a better cast than any of his fellows. Deerslayer got an
inkling of this warrior’s want of reputation by the injunctions that he
had received from the seniors, who, indeed, would have objected to his
appearing in the arena, at all, but for an influence derived from his
father; an aged warrior of great merit, who was then in the lodges of the
tribe. Still, our hero maintained an appearance of self-possession. He had
made up his mind that his hour was come, and it would have been a mercy,
instead of a calamity, to fall by the unsteadiness of the first hand that
was raised against him. After a suitable number of flourishes and
gesticulations that promised much more than he could perform, the Raven
let the tomahawk quit his hand. The weapon whirled through the air with
the usual evolutions, cut a chip from the sapling to which the prisoner
was bound within a few inches of his cheek, and stuck in a large oak that
grew several yards behind him. This was decidedly a bad effort, and a
common sneer proclaimed as much, to the great mortification of the young
man. On the other hand, there was a general but suppressed murmur of
admiration at the steadiness with which the captive stood the trial. The
head was the only part he could move, and this had been purposely left
free, that the tormentors might have the amusement, and the tormented
endure the shame, of his dodging, and otherwise attempting to avoid the
blows. Deerslayer disappointed these hopes by a command of nerve that
rendered his whole body as immovable as the tree to which he was bound.
Nor did he even adopt the natural and usual expedient of shutting his
eyes, the firmest and oldest warrior of the red-men never having more
disdainfully denied himself this advantage under similar circumstances.

The Raven had no sooner made his unsuccessful and puerile effort, than he
was succeeded by le Daim-Mose, or the Moose; a middle aged warrior who was
particularly skilful in the use of the tomahawk, and from whose attempt
the spectators confidently looked for gratification. This man had none of
the good nature of the Raven, but he would gladly have sacrificed the
captive to his hatred of the pale-faces generally, were it not for the
greater interest he felt in his own success as one particularly skilled in
the use of this weapon. He took his stand quietly, but with an air of
confidence, poised his little axe but a single instant, advanced a foot
with a quick motion, and threw. Deerslayer saw the keen instrument
whirling towards him, and believed all was over; still, he was not
touched. The tomahawk had actually bound the head of the captive to the
tree, by carrying before it some of his hair, having buried itself deep
beneath the soft bark. A general yell expressed the delight of the
spectators, and the Moose felt his heart soften a little towards the
prisoner, whose steadiness of nerve alone enabled him to give this
evidence of his consummate skill.

Le Daim-Mose was succeeded by the Bounding Boy, or le Garcon qui Bondi who
came leaping into the circle, like a hound or a goat at play. This was one
of those elastic youths whose muscles seemed always in motion, and who
either affected, or who from habit was actually unable, to move in any
other manner than by showing the antics just mentioned. Nevertheless, he
was both brave and skilful, and had gained the respect of his people by
deeds in war, as well as success in the hunts. A far nobler name would
long since have fallen to his share, had not a French-man of rank
inadvertently given him this sobriquet, which he religiously preserved as
coming from his Great Father who lived beyond the Wide Salt Lake. The
Bounding Boy skipped about in front of the captive, menacing him with his
tomahawk, now on one side and now on another, and then again in front, in
the vain hope of being able to extort some sign of fear by this parade of
danger. At length Deerslayer’s patience became exhausted by all this
mummery, and he spoke for the first time since the trial had actually
commenced.

“Throw away, Huron,” he cried, “or your tomahawk will forget its ar’n’d.
Why do you keep loping about like a fa’a’n that’s showing its dam how well
it can skip, when you’re a warrior grown, yourself, and a warrior grown
defies you and all your silly antiks. Throw, or the Huron gals will laugh
in your face.”

Although not intended to produce such an effect, the last words aroused
the “Bounding” warrior to fury. The same nervous excitability which
rendered him so active in his person, made it difficult to repress his
feelings, and the words were scarcely past the lips of the speaker than
the tomahawk left the hand of the Indian. Nor was it cast without
ill-will, and a fierce determination to slay. Had the intention been less
deadly, the danger might have been greater. The aim was uncertain, and the
weapon glanced near the cheek of the captive, slightly cutting the
shoulder in its evolutions. This was the first instance in which any other
object than that of terrifying the prisoner, and of displaying skill had
been manifested, and the Bounding Boy was immediately led from the arena,
and was warmly rebuked for his intemperate haste, which had come so near
defeating all the hopes of the band. To this irritable person succeeded
several other young warriors, who not only hurled the tomahawk, but who
cast the knife, a far more dangerous experiment, with reckless
indifference; yet they always manifested a skill that prevented any injury
to the captive. Several times Deerslayer was grazed, but in no instance
did he receive what might be termed a wound. The unflinching firmness with
which he faced his assailants, more especially in the sort of rally with
which this trial terminated, excited a profound respect in the spectators,
and when the chiefs announced that the prisoner had well withstood the
trials of the knife and the tomahawk, there was not a single individual in
the band who really felt any hostility towards him, with the exception of
Sumach and the Bounding Boy. These two discontented spirits got together,
it is true, feeding each other’s ire, but as yet their malignant feelings
were confined very much to themselves, though there existed the danger
that the others, ere long, could not fail to be excited by their own
efforts into that demoniacal state which usually accompanied all similar
scenes among the red men.

Rivenoak now told his people that the pale-face had proved himself to be a
man. He might live with the Delawares, but he had not been made woman with
that tribe. He wished to know whether it was the desire of the Hurons to
proceed any further. Even the gentlest of the females, however, had
received too much satisfaction in the late trials to forego their
expectations of a gratifying exhibition, and there was but one voice in
the request to proceed. The politic chief, who had some such desire to
receive so celebrated a hunter into his tribe, as a European Minister has
to devise a new and available means of taxation, sought every plausible
means of arresting the trial in season, for he well knew, if permitted to
go far enough to arouse the more ferocious passions of the tormentors, it
would be as easy to dam the waters of the great lakes of his own region,
as to attempt to arrest them in their bloody career. He therefore called
four or five of the best marksmen to him, and bid them put the captive to
the proof of the rifle, while at the same time he cautioned them touching
the necessity of their maintaining their own credit, by the closest
attention to the manner of exhibiting their skill.

When Deerslayer saw the chosen warriors step into the circle, with their
arms prepared for service, he felt some such relief as the miserable
sufferer, who has long endured the agonies of disease, feels at the
certain approach of death. Any trifling variance in the aim of this
formidable weapon would prove fatal; since, the head being the target, or
rather the point it was desired to graze without injuring, an inch or two
of difference in the line of projection must at once determine the
question of life or death.

In the torture by the rifle there was none of the latitude permitted that
appeared in the case of even Gessler’s apple, a hair’s breadth being, in
fact, the utmost limits that an expert marksman would allow himself on an
occasion like this. Victims were frequently shot through the head by too
eager or unskilful hands, and it often occurred that, exasperated by the
fortitude and taunts of the prisoner, death was dealt intentionally in a
moment of ungovernable irritation. All this Deerslayer well knew, for it
was in relating the traditions of such scenes, as well as of the battles
and victories of their people, that the old men beguiled the long winter
evenings in their cabins. He now fully expected the end of his career, and
experienced a sort of melancholy pleasure in the idea that he was to fall
by a weapon as much beloved as the rifle. A slight interruption, however,
took place before the business was allowed to proceed.

Hetty Hutter witnessed all that passed, and the scene at first had pressed
upon her feeble mind in a way to paralyze it entirely; but, by this time
she had rallied, and was growing indignant at the unmerited suffering the
Indians were inflicting on her friend. Though timid, and shy as the young
of the deer on so many occasions, this right-feeling girl was always
intrepid in the cause of humanity; the lessons of her mother, and the
impulses of her own heart—perhaps we might say the promptings of
that unseen and pure spirit that seemed ever to watch over and direct her
actions—uniting to keep down the apprehensions of woman, and to
impel her to be bold and resolute. She now appeared in the circle, gentle,
feminine, even bashful in mien, as usual, but earnest in her words and
countenance, speaking like one who knew herself to be sustained by the
high authority of God.

“Why do you torment Deerslayer, redmen?” she asked “What has he done that
you trifle with his life; who has given you the right to be his judges?
Suppose one of your knives or tomahawks had hit him; what Indian among you
all could cure the wound you would make. Besides, in harming Deerslayer,
you injure your own friend; when father and Hurry Harry came after your
scalps, he refused to be of the party, and staid in the canoe by himself.
You are tormenting a good friend, in tormenting this young man!”

The Hurons listened with grave attention, and one among them, who
understood English, translated what had been said into their native
tongue. As soon as Rivenoak was made acquainted with the purport of her
address he answered it in his own dialect; the interpreter conveying it to
the girl in English.

“My daughter is very welcome to speak,” said the stern old orator, using
gentle intonations and smiling as kindly as if addressing a child—“The
Hurons are glad to hear her voice; they listen to what she says. The Great
Spirit often speaks to men with such tongues. This time, her eyes have not
been open wide enough to see all that has happened. Deerslayer did not
come for our scalps, that is true; why did he not come? Here they are on
our heads; the war locks are ready to be taken hold of; a bold enemy ought
to stretch out his hand to seize them. The Iroquois are too great a nation
to punish men that take scalps. What they do themselves, they like to see
others do. Let my daughter look around her and count my warriors. Had I as
many hands as four warriors, their fingers would be fewer than my people,
when they came into your hunting grounds. Now, a whole hand is missing.
Where are the fingers? Two have been cut off by this pale-face; my Hurons
wish to see if he did this by means of a stout heart, or by treachery.
Like a skulking fox, or like a leaping panther.”

“You know yourself, Huron, how one of them fell. I saw it, and you all saw
it, too. ‘Twas too bloody to look at; but it was not Deerslayer’s fault.
Your warrior sought his life, and he defended himself. I don’t know
whether this good book says that it was right, but all men will do that.
Come, if you want to know which of you can shoot best, give Deerslayer a
rifle, and then you will find how much more expert he is than any of your
warriors; yes, than all of them together!”

Could one have looked upon such a scene with indifference, he would have
been amused at the gravity with which the savages listened to the
translation of this unusual request. No taunt, no smile mingled with their
surprise, for Hetty had a character and a manner too saintly to subject
her infirmity to the mockings of the rude and ferocious. On the contrary,
she was answered with respectful attention.

“My daughter does not always talk like a chief at a Council Fire,”
returned Rivenoak, “or she would not have said this. Two of my warriors
have fallen by the blows of our prisoner; their grave is too small to hold
a third. The Hurons do not like to crowd their dead. If there is another
spirit about to set out for the far off world, it must not be the spirit
of a Huron; it must be the spirit of a pale-face. Go, daughter, and sit by
Sumach, who is in grief; let the Huron warriors show how well they can
shoot; let the pale-face show how little he cares for their bullets.”

Hetty’s mind was unequal to a sustained discussion, and accustomed to
defer to the directions of her seniors she did as told, seating herself
passively on a log by the side of the Sumach, and averting her face from
the painful scene that was occurring within the circle.

The warriors, as soon as this interruption had ceased, resumed their
places, and again prepared to exhibit their skill. As there was a double
object in view, that of putting the constancy of the captive to the proof,
and that of showing how steady were the hands of the marksmen under
circumstances of excitement, the distance was small, and, in one sense,
safe. But in diminishing the distance taken by the tormentors, the trial
to the nerves of the captive was essentially increased. The face of
Deerslayer, indeed, was just removed sufficiently from the ends of the
guns to escape the effects of the flash, and his steady eye was enabled to
look directly into their muzzles, as it might be, in anticipation of the
fatal messenger that was to issue from each. The cunning Hurons well knew
this fact, and scarce one levelled his piece without first causing it to
point as near as possible at the forehead of the prisoner, in the hope
that his fortitude would fail him, and that the band would enjoy the
triumph of seeing a victim quail under their ingenious cruelty.
Nevertheless each of the competitors was still careful not to injure, the
disgrace of striking prematurely being second only to that of failing
altogether in attaining the object. Shot after shot was made; all the
bullets coming in close proximity to the Deerslayer’s head, without
touching it. Still no one could detect even the twitching of a muscle on
the part of the captive, or the slightest winking of an eye. This
indomitable resolution, which so much exceeded everything of its kind that
any present had before witnessed, might be referred to three distinct
causes. The first was resignation to his fate, blended with natural
steadiness of deportment; for our hero had calmly made up his mind that he
must die, and preferred this mode to any other; the second was his great
familiarity with this particular weapon, which deprived it of all the
terror that is usually connected with the mere form of the danger; and the
third was this familiarity carried out in practice, to a degree so nice as
to enable the intended victim to tell, within an inch, the precise spot
where each bullet must strike, for he calculated its range by looking in
at the bore of the piece. So exact was Deerslayer’s estimation of the line
of fire, that his pride of feeling finally got the better of his
resignation, and when five or six had discharged their bullets into the
tree, he could not refrain from expressing his contempt at their want of
hand and eye.

“You may call this shooting, Mingos!” he exclaimed, “but we’ve squaws
among the Delawares, and I have known Dutch gals on the Mohawk, that could
outdo your greatest indivours. Ondo these arms of mine, put a rifle into
my hands, and I’ll pin the thinnest warlock in your party to any tree you
can show me, and this at a hundred yards—ay, or at two hundred if
the objects can be seen, nineteen shots in twenty; or, for that matter
twenty in twenty, if the piece is creditable and trusty!”

A low menacing murmur followed this cool taunt. The ire of the warriors
kindled at listening to such a reproach from one who so far disdained
their efforts as to refuse even to wink when a rifle was discharged as
near his face as could be done without burning it. Rivenoak perceived that
the moment was critical, and, still retaining his hope of adopting so
noted a hunter into his tribe, the politic old chief interposed in time,
probably to prevent an immediate resort to that portion of the torture
which must necessarily have produced death through extreme bodily
suffering, if in no other manner. Moving into the centre of the irritated
group, he addressed them with his usual wily logic and plausible manner,
at once suppressing the fierce movement that had commenced.

“I see how it is,” he said. “We have been like the pale-faces when they
fasten their doors at night, out of fear of the red men. They use so many
bars that the fire comes and burns them before they can get out. We have
bound the Deerslayer too tight: the thongs keep his limbs from shaking and
his eyes from shutting. Loosen him; let us see what his own body is really
made of.”

It is often the case when we are thwarted in a cherished scheme, that any
expedient, however unlikely to succeed, is gladly resorted to in
preference to a total abandonment of the project. So it was with the
Hurons. The proposal of the chief found instant favor, and several hands
were immediately at work, cutting and tearing the ropes of bark from the
body of our hero. In half a minute Deerslayer stood as free from bonds as
when an hour before he had commenced his flight on the side of the
mountain. Some little time was necessary that he should recover the use of
his limbs, the circulation of the blood having been checked by the
tightness of the ligatures, and this was accorded to him by the politic
Rivenoak, under the pretence that his body would be more likely to submit
to apprehension if its true tone were restored; though really with a view
to give time to the fierce passions which had been awakened in the bosoms
of his young men to subside. This ruse succeeded, and Deerslayer by
rubbing his limbs, stamping his feet, and moving about, soon regained the
circulation, recovering all his physical powers as effectually as if
nothing had occurred to disturb them.

It is seldom men think of death in the pride of their health and strength.
So it was with Deerslayer. Having been helplessly bound and, as he had
every reason to suppose, so lately on the very verge of the other world,
to find himself so unexpectedly liberated, in possession of his strength
and with a full command of limb, acted on him like a sudden restoration to
life, reanimating hopes that he had once absolutely abandoned. From that
instant all his plans changed. In this, he simply obeyed a law of nature;
for while we have wished to represent our hero as being resigned to his
fate, it has been far from our intention to represent him as anxious to
die. From the instant that his buoyancy of feeling revived, his thoughts
were keenly bent on the various projects that presented themselves as
modes of evading the designs of his enemies, and he again became the quick
witted, ingenious and determined woodsman, alive to all his own powers and
resources. The change was so great that his mind resumed its elasticity,
and no longer thinking of submission, it dwelt only on the devices of the
sort of warfare in which he was engaged.

As soon as Deerslayer was released, the band divided itself in a circle
around him, in order to hedge him in, and the desire to break down his
spirit grew in them, precisely as they saw proofs of the difficulty there
would be in subduing it. The honor of the band was now involved in the
issue, and even the fair sex lost all its sympathy with suffering in the
desire to save the reputation of the tribe. The voices of the girls, soft
and melodious as nature had made them, were heard mingling with the
menaces of the men, and the wrongs of Sumach suddenly assumed the
character of injuries inflicted on every Huron female. Yielding to this
rising tumult, the men drew back a little, signifying to the females that
they left the captive, for a time, in their hands, it being a common
practice on such occasions for the women to endeavor to throw the victim
into a rage by their taunts and revilings, and then to turn him suddenly
over to the men in a state of mind that was little favorable to resisting
the agony of bodily suffering. Nor was this party without the proper
instruments for effecting such a purpose. Sumach had a notoriety as a
scold, and one or two crones, like the She Bear, had come out with the
party, most probably as the conservators of its decency and moral
discipline; such things occurring in savage as well as in civilized life.
It is unnecessary to repeat all that ferocity and ignorance could invent
for such a purpose, the only difference between this outbreaking of
feminine anger, and a similar scene among ourselves, consisting in the
figures of speech and the epithets, the Huron women calling their prisoner
by the names of the lower and least respected animals that were known to
themselves.

But Deerslayer’s mind was too much occupied to permit him to be disturbed
by the abuse of excited hags, and their rage necessarily increasing with
his indifference, as his indifference increased with their rage, the
furies soon rendered themselves impotent by their own excesses. Perceiving
that the attempt was a complete failure, the warriors interfered to put a
stop to this scene, and this so much the more because preparations were
now seriously making for the commencement of the real tortures, or that
which would put the fortitude of the sufferer to the test of severe bodily
pain. A sudden and unlooked for announcement, that proceeded from one of
the look-outs, a boy ten or twelve years old, however, put a momentary
check to the whole proceedings. As this interruption has a close
connection with the dénouement of our story, it shall be given in a
separate chapter.


Chapter XXX.

It exceeded Deerslayer’s power to ascertain what had produced the sudden
pause in the movements of his enemies, until the fact was revealed in the
due course of events. He perceived that much agitation prevailed among the
women in particular, while the warriors rested on their arms in a sort of
dignified expectation. It was plain no alarm was excited, though it was
not equally apparent that a friendly occurrence produced the delay.
Rivenoak was evidently apprised of all, and by a gesture of his arm he
appeared to direct the circle to remain unbroken, and for each person to
await the issue in the situation he or she then occupied. It required but
a minute or two to bring an explanation of this singular and mysterious
pause, which was soon terminated by the appearance of Judith on the
exterior of the line of bodies, and her ready admission within its circle.

If Deerslayer was startled by this unexpected arrival, well knowing that
the quick witted girl could claim none of that exemption from the
penalties of captivity that was so cheerfully accorded to her feebler
minded sister, he was equally astonished at the guise in which she came.
All her ordinary forest attire, neat and becoming as this usually was, had
been laid aside for the brocade that has been already mentioned, and which
had once before wrought so great and magical an effect in her appearance.
Nor was this all. Accustomed to see the ladies of the garrison in the
formal, gala attire of the day, and familiar with the more critical
niceties of these matters, the girl had managed to complete her dress in a
way to leave nothing strikingly defective in its details, or even to
betray an incongruity that would have been detected by one practised in
the mysteries of the toilet. Head, feet, arms, hands, bust, and drapery,
were all in harmony, as female attire was then deemed attractive and
harmonious, and the end she aimed at, that of imposing on the uninstructed
senses of the savages, by causing them to believe their guest was a woman
of rank and importance, might well have succeeded with those whose habits
had taught them to discriminate between persons. Judith, in addition to
her rare native beauty, had a singular grace of person, and her mother had
imparted enough of her own deportment to prevent any striking or offensive
vulgarity of manner; so that, sooth to say, the gorgeous dress might have
been worse bestowed in nearly every particular. Had it been displayed in a
capital, a thousand might have worn it, before one could have been found
to do more credit to its gay colours, glossy satins, and rich laces, than
the beautiful creature whose person it now aided to adorn. The effect of
such an apparition had not been miscalculated. The instant Judith found
herself within the circle, she was, in a degree, compensated for the
fearful personal risk she ran, by the unequivocal sensation of surprise
and admiration produced by her appearance. The grim old warriors uttered
their favorite exclamation “hugh!” The younger men were still more
sensibly overcome, and even the women were not backward in letting open
manifestations of pleasure escape them. It was seldom that these untutored
children of the forest had ever seen any white female above the commonest
sort, and, as to dress, never before had so much splendor shone before
their eyes. The gayest uniforms of both French and English seemed dull
compared with the lustre of the brocade, and while the rare personal
beauty of the wearer added to the effect produced by its hues, the attire
did not fail to adorn that beauty in a way which surpassed even the hopes
of its wearer. Deerslayer himself was astounded, and this quite as much by
the brilliant picture the girl presented, as at the indifference to
consequences with which she had braved the danger of the step she had
taken. Under such circumstances, all waited for the visitor to explain her
object, which to most of the spectators seemed as inexplicable as her
appearance.

“Which of these warriors is the principal chief?” demanded Judith of
Deerslayer, as soon as she found it was expected that she should open the
communications; “my errand is too important to be delivered to any of
inferior rank. First explain to the Hurons what I say; then give an answer
to the question I have put.”

Deerslayer quietly complied, his auditors greedily listening to the
interpretation of the first words that fell from so extraordinary a
vision. The demand seemed perfectly in character for one who had every
appearance of an exalted rank, herself. Rivenoak gave an appropriate
reply, by presenting himself before his fair visitor in a way to leave no
doubt that he was entitled to all the consideration he claimed.

“I can believe this, Huron,” resumed Judith, enacting her assumed part
with a steadiness and dignity that did credit to her powers of imitation,
for she strove to impart to her manner the condescending courtesy she had
once observed in the wife of a general officer, at a similar though a more
amicable scene: “I can believe you to be the principal person of this
party; I see in your countenance the marks of thought and reflection. To
you, then, I must make my communication.”

“Let the Flower of the Woods speak,” returned the old chief courteously,
as soon as her address had been translated so that all might understand it—“If
her words are as pleasant as her looks, they will never quit my ears; I
shall hear them long after the winter of Canada has killed all the
flowers, and frozen all the speeches of summer.”

This admiration was grateful to one constituted like Judith, and
contributed to aid her self-possession, quite as much as it fed her
vanity. Smiling involuntarily, or in spite of her wish to seem reserved,
she proceeded in her plot.

“Now, Huron,” she continued, “listen to my words. Your eyes tell you that
I am no common woman. I will not say I am queen of this country; she is
afar off, in a distant land; but under our gracious monarchs, there are
many degrees of rank; one of these I fill. What that rank is precisely, it
is unnecessary for me to say, since you would not understand it. For that
information you must trust your eyes. You see what I am; you must feel
that in listening to my words, you listen to one who can be your friend,
or your enemy, as you treat her.”

This was well uttered, with a due attention to manner and a steadiness of
tone that was really surprising, considering all the circumstances of the
case. It was well, though simply rendered into the Indian dialect too, and
it was received with a respect and gravity that augured favourably for the
girl’s success. But Indian thought is not easily traced to its sources.
Judith waited with anxiety to hear the answer, filled with hope even while
she doubted. Rivenoak was a ready speaker, and he answered as promptly as
comported with the notions of Indian decorum; that peculiar people seeming
to think a short delay respectful, inasmuch as it manifests that the words
already heard have been duly weighed.

“My daughter is handsomer than the wild roses of Ontario; her voice is
pleasant to the ear as the song of the wren,” answered the cautious and
wily chief, who of all the band stood alone in not being fully imposed on
by the magnificent and unusual appearance of Judith; but who distrusted
even while he wondered: “the humming bird is not much larger than the bee;
yet, its feathers are as gay as the tail of the peacock. The Great Spirit
sometimes puts very bright clothes on very little animals. Still He covers
the Moose with coarse hair. These things are beyond the understanding of
poor Indians, who can only comprehend what they see and hear. No doubt my
daughter has a very large wigwam somewhere about the lake; the Hurons have
not found it, on account of their ignorance?”

“I have told you, chief, that it would be useless to state my rank and
residence, in as much as you would not comprehend them. You must trust to
your eyes for this knowledge; what red man is there who cannot see? This
blanket that I wear is not the blanket of a common squaw; these ornaments
are such as the wives and daughters of chiefs only appear in. Now, listen
and hear why I have come alone among your people, and hearken to the
errand that has brought me here. The Yengeese have young men, as well as
the Hurons; and plenty of them, too; this you well know.”

“The Yengeese are as plenty as the leaves on the trees! This every Huron
knows, and feels.”

“I understand you, chief. Had I brought a party with me, it might have
caused trouble. My young men and your young men would have looked angrily
at each other; especially had my young men seen that pale-face bound for
the torture. He is a great hunter, and is much loved by all the garrisons,
far and near. There would have been blows about him, and the trail of the
Iroquois back to the Canadas would have been marked with blood.”

“There is so much blood on it, now,” returned the chief, gloomily, “that
it blinds our eyes. My young men see that it is all Huron.”

“No doubt; and more Huron blood would be spilt had I come surrounded with
pale-faces. I have heard of Rivenoak, and have thought it would be better
to send him back in peace to his village, that he might leave his women
and children behind him; if he then wished to come for our scalps, we
would meet him. He loves animals made of ivory, and little rifles. See; I
have brought some with me to show him. I am his friend. When he has packed
up these things among his goods, he will start for his village, before any
of my young men can overtake him, and then he will show his people in
Canada what riches they can come to seek, now that our great fathers,
across the Salt Lake, have sent each other the war hatchet. I will lead
back with me this great hunter, of whom I have need to keep my house in
venison.”

Judith, who was sufficiently familiar with Indian phraseology, endeavored
to express her ideas in the sententious manner common to those people, and
she succeeded even beyond her own expectations. Deerslayer did her full
justice in the translation, and this so much the more readily, since the
girl carefully abstained from uttering any direct untruth; a homage she
paid to the young man’s known aversion to falsehood, which he deemed a
meanness altogether unworthy of a white man’s gifts. The offering of the
two remaining elephants, and of the pistols already mentioned, one of
which was all the worse for the recent accident, produced a lively
sensation among the Hurons, generally, though Rivenoak received it coldly,
notwithstanding the delight with which he had first discovered the
probable existence of a creature with two tails. In a word, this cool and
sagacious savage was not so easily imposed on as his followers, and with a
sentiment of honor that half the civilized world would have deemed
supererogatory, he declined the acceptance of a bribe that he felt no
disposition to earn by a compliance with the donor’s wishes.

“Let my daughter keep her two-tailed hog, to eat when venison is scarce,”
he drily answered, “and the little gun, which has two muzzles. The Hurons
will kill deer when they are hungry, and they have long rifles to fight
with. This hunter cannot quit my young men now; they wish to know if he is
as stouthearted as he boasts himself to be.”

“That I deny, Huron—” interrupted Deerslayer, with warmth—“Yes,
that I downright deny, as ag’in truth and reason. No man has heard me
boast, and no man shall, though ye flay me alive, and then roast the
quivering flesh, with your own infarnal devices and cruelties! I may be
humble, and misfortunate, and your prisoner; but I’m no boaster, by my
very gifts.”

“My young pale-face boasts he is no boaster,” returned the crafty chief:
“he must be right. I hear a strange bird singing. It has very rich
feathers. No Huron ever before saw such feathers! They will be ashamed to
go back to their village, and tell their people that they let their
prisoner go on account of the song of this strange bird and not be able to
give the name of the bird. They do not know how to say whether it is a
wren, or a cat bird. This would be a great disgrace; my young men would
not be allowed to travel in the woods without taking their mothers with
them, to tell them the names of the birds!”

“You can ask my name of your prisoner,” returned the girl. “It is Judith;
and there is a great deal of the history of Judith in the pale-face’s best
book, the Bible. If I am a bird of fine feathers, I have also my name.”

“No,” answered the wily Huron, betraying the artifice he had so long
practised, by speaking in English with tolerable accuracy, “I not ask
prisoner. He tired; he want rest. I ask my daughter, with feeble mind. She
speak truth. Come here, daughter; you answer. Your name, Hetty?”

“Yes, that’s what they call me,” returned the girl, “though it’s written
Esther in the Bible.”

“He write him in bible, too! All write in bible. No matter—what her
name?”

“That’s Judith, and it’s so written in the Bible, though father sometimes
called her Jude. That’s my sister Judith. Thomas Hutter’s daughter—Thomas
Hutter, whom you called the Muskrat; though he was no muskrat, but a man
like yourselves—he lived in a house on the water, and that was
enough for you.”

A smile of triumph gleamed on the hard wrinkled countenance of the chief,
when he found how completely his appeal to the truth-loving Hetty had
succeeded. As for Judith, herself, the moment her sister was questioned,
she saw that all was lost; for no sign, or even intreaty could have
induced the right feeling girl to utter a falsehood. To attempt to impose
a daughter of the Muskrat on the savages as a princess, or a great lady,
she knew would be idle, and she saw her bold and ingenious expedient for
liberating the captive fail, through one of the simplest and most natural
causes that could be imagined. She turned her eye on Deerslayer,
therefore, as if imploring him to interfere to save them both.

“It will not do, Judith,” said the young man, in answer to this appeal,
which he understood, though he saw its uselessness; “it will not do. ‘Twas
a bold idea, and fit for a general’s lady, but yonder Mingo” Rivenoak had
withdrawn to a little distance, and was out of earshot—“but yonder
Mingo is an oncommon man, and not to be deceived by any unnat’ral
sarcumvention. Things must come afore him in their right order, to draw a
cloud afore his eyes! ‘Twas too much to attempt making him fancy that a
queen, or a great lady, lived in these mountains, and no doubt he thinks
the fine clothes you wear is some of the plunder of your own father—or,
at least, of him who once passed for your father; as quite likely it was,
if all they say is true.”

“At all events, Deerslayer, my presence here will save you for a time.
They will hardly attempt torturing you before my face!”

“Why not, Judith? Do you think they will treat a woman of the pale faces
more tenderly than they treat their own? It’s true that your sex will most
likely save you from the torments, but it will not save your liberty, and
may not save your scalp. I wish you had not come, my good Judith; it can
do no good to me, while it may do great harm to yourself.”

“I can share your fate,” the girl answered with generous enthusiasm. “They
shall not injure you while I stand by, if in my power to prevent it—besides—”

“Besides, what, Judith? What means have you to stop Injin cruelties, or to
avart Injin deviltries?”

“None, perhaps, Deerslayer,” answered the girl, with firmness, “but I can
suffer with my friends—die with them if necessary.”

“Ah! Judith—suffer you may; but die you will not, until the Lord’s
time shall come. It’s little likely that one of your sex and beauty will
meet with a harder fate than to become the wife of a chief, if, indeed
your white inclinations can stoop to match with an Injin. ‘Twould have
been better had you staid in the Ark, or the castle, but what has been
done, is done. You was about to say something, when you stopped at
‘besides’?”

“It might not be safe to mention it here, Deerslayer,” the girl hurriedly
answered, moving past him carelessly, that she might speak in a lower
tone; “half an hour is all in all to us. None of your friends are idle.”

The hunter replied merely by a grateful look. Then he turned towards his
enemies, as if ready again to face their torments. A short consultation
had passed among the elders of the band, and by this time they also were
prepared with their decision. The merciful purpose of Rivenoak had been
much weakened by the artifice of Judith, which, failing of its real
object, was likely to produce results the very opposite of those she had
anticipated. This was natural; the feeling being aided by the resentment
of an Indian who found how near he had been to becoming the dupe of an
inexperienced girl. By this time, Judith’s real character was fully
understood, the wide spread reputation of her beauty contributing to the
exposure. As for the unusual attire, it was confounded with the profound
mystery of the animals with two tails, and for the moment lost its
influence.

When Rivenoak, therefore, faced the captive again, it was with an altered
countenance. He had abandoned the wish of saving him, and was no longer
disposed to retard the more serious part of the torture. This change of
sentiment was, in effect, communicated to the young men, who were already
eagerly engaged in making their preparations for the contemplated scene.
Fragments of dried wood were rapidly collected near the sapling, the
splinters which it was intended to thrust into the flesh of the victim,
previously to lighting, were all collected, and the thongs were already
produced that were again to bind him to the tree. All this was done in
profound silence, Judith watching every movement with breathless
expectation, while Deerslayer himself stood seemingly as unmoved as one of
the pines of the hills. When the warriors advanced to bind him, however,
the young man glanced at Judith, as if to enquire whether resistance or
submission were most advisable. By a significant gesture she counselled
the last, and, in a minute, he was once more fastened to the tree, a
helpless object of any insult, or wrong, that might be offered. So eagerly
did every one now act, that nothing was said. The fire was immediately
lighted in the pile, and the end of all was anxiously expected.

It was not the intention of the Hurons absolutely to destroy the life of
their victim by means of fire. They designed merely to put his physical
fortitude to the severest proofs it could endure, short of that extremity.
In the end, they fully intended to carry his scalp with them into their
village, but it was their wish first to break down his resolution, and to
reduce him to the level of a complaining sufferer. With this view, the
pile of brush and branches had been placed at a proper distance, or, one
at which it was thought the heat would soon become intolerable, though it
might not be immediately dangerous. As often happened, however, on these
occasions, this distance had been miscalculated, and the flames began to
wave their forked tongues in a proximity to the face of the victim, that
would have proved fatal, in another instant, had not Hetty rushed through
the crowd, armed with a stick, and scattered the blazing pile in a dozen
directions. More than one hand was raised to strike this presumptuous
intruder to the earth, but the chiefs prevented the blows, by reminding
their irritated followers of the state of her mind. Hetty, herself, was
insensible to the risk she ran, but, as soon as she had performed this
bold act, she stood looking about her, in frowning resentment, as if to
rebuke the crowd of attentive savages for their cruelty.

“God bless you, dearest sister, for that brave and ready act!” murmured
Judith, herself unnerved so much as to be incapable of exertion—“Heaven,
itself, has sent you on its holy errand.”

“’Twas well meant, Judith—” rejoined the victim—“’twas
excellently meant, and ’twas timely; though it may prove ontimely in the
ind! What is to come to pass, must come to pass soon, or ’twill quickly be
too late. Had I drawn in one mouthful of that flame in breathing, the
power of man could not save my life, and you see that, this time, they’ve
so bound my forehead, as not to leave my head the smallest chance. ‘Twas
well meant, but it might have been more marciful to let the flames act
their part.”

“Cruel, heartless Hurons!” exclaimed the still indignant Hetty—“Would
you burn a man and a Christian, as you would burn a log of wood! Do you
never read your Bibles? Or do you think God will forget such things?”

A gesture from Rivenoak caused the scattered brands to be collected. Fresh
wood was brought, even the women and children busying themselves eagerly,
in the gathering of dried sticks. The flame was just kindling a second
time, when an Indian female pushed through the circle, advanced to the
heap, and with her foot dashed aside the lighted twigs in time to prevent
the conflagration. A yell followed this second disappointment, but when
the offender turned towards the circle, and presented the countenance of
Hist, it was succeeded by a common exclamation of pleasure and surprise.
For a minute, all thought of pursuing the business in hand was forgotten.
Young and old crowded around the girl, in haste to demand an explanation
of her sudden and unlooked-for return. It was at this critical instant
that Hist spoke to Judith in a low voice, placed some small object unseen
in her hand, and then turned to meet the salutations of the Huron girls,
with whom she was personally a great favorite. Judith recovered her self
possession, and acted promptly. The small, keen edged knife that Hist had
given to the other, was passed by the latter into the hands of Hetty, as
the safest and least suspected medium of transferring it to Deerslayer.
But the feeble intellect of the last defeated the well-grounded hopes of
all three. Instead of first cutting loose the hands of the victim, and
then concealing the knife in his clothes, in readiness for action at the
most available instant, she went to work herself, with earnestness and
simplicity, to cut the thongs that bound his head, that he might not again
be in danger of inhaling flames. Of course this deliberate procedure was
seen, and the hands of Hetty were arrested, ere she had more than
liberated the upper portion of the captive’s body, not including his arms
below the elbows. This discovery at once pointed distrust towards Hist,
and to Judith’s surprise, when questioned on the subject, that spirited
girl was not disposed to deny her agency in what had passed.

“Why should I not help the Deerslayer?” the girl demanded, in the tones of
a firm minded woman. “He is the brother of a Delaware chief; my heart is
all Delaware. Come forth, miserable Briarthorn, and wash the Iroquois
paint from your face; stand before the Hurons the crow that you are. You
would eat the carrion of your own dead, rather than starve. Put him face
to face with Deerslayer, chiefs and warriors; I will show you how great a
knave you have been keeping in your tribe.”

This bold language, uttered in their own dialect and with a manner full of
confidence, produced a deep sensation among the Hurons. Treachery is
always liable to distrust, and though the recreant Briarthorn had
endeavoured to serve the enemy well, his exertions and assiduities had
gained for him little more than toleration. His wish to obtain Hist for a
wife had first induced him to betray her, and his own people, but serious
rivals to his first project had risen up among his new friends, weakening
still more their sympathies with treason. In a word, Briarthorn had been
barely permitted to remain in the Huron encampment, where he was as
closely and as jealously watched as Hist, herself, seldom appearing before
the chiefs, and sedulously keeping out of view of Deerslayer, who, until
this moment, was ignorant even of his presence. Thus summoned, however, it
was impossible to remain in the back ground. “Wash the Iroquois paint from
his face,” he did not, for when he stood in the centre of the circle, he
was so disguised in these new colours, that at first, the hunter did not
recognise him. He assumed an air of defiance, notwithstanding, and
haughtily demanded what any could say against “Briarthorn.”

“Ask yourself that,” continued Hist with spirit, though her manner grew
less concentrated, and there was a slight air of abstraction that became
observable to Deerslayer and Judith, if to no others—“Ask that of
your own heart, sneaking woodchuck of the Delawares; come not here with
the face of an innocent man. Go look into the spring; see the colours of
your enemies on your lying skin; then come back and boast how you run from
your tribe and took the blanket of the French for your covering! Paint
yourself as bright as the humming bird, you will still be black as the
crow!”

Hist had been so uniformly gentle, while living with the Hurons, that they
now listened to her language with surprise. As for the delinquent, his
blood boiled in his veins, and it was well for the pretty speaker that it
was not in his power to execute the revenge he burned to inflict on her,
in spite of his pretended love.

“Who wishes Briarthorn?” he sternly asked—“If this pale-face is
tired of life, if afraid of Indian torments, speak, Rivenoak; I will send
him after the warriors we have lost.”

“No, chiefs—no, Rivenoak—” eagerly interrupted Hist—“Deerslayer
fears nothing; least of all a crow! Unbind him—cut his withes, place
him face to face with this cawing bird; then let us see which is tired of
life!”

Hist made a forward movement, as if to take a knife from a young man, and
perform the office she had mentioned in person, but an aged warrior
interposed, at a sign from Rivenoak. This chief watched all the girl did
with distrust, for, even while speaking in her most boastful language, and
in the steadiest manner, there was an air of uncertainty and expectation
about her, that could not escape so close an observer. She acted well; but
two or three of the old men were equally satisfied that it was merely
acting. Her proposal to release Deerslayer, therefore, was rejected, and
the disappointed Hist found herself driven back from the sapling, at the
very moment she fancied herself about to be successful. At the same time,
the circle, which had got to be crowded and confused, was enlarged, and
brought once more into order. Rivenoak now announced the intention of the
old men again to proceed, the delay having continued long enough, and
leading to no result.

“Stop Huron—stay chiefs!—” exclaimed Judith, scarce knowing
what she said, or why she interposed, unless to obtain time. “For God’s
sake, a single minute longer—”

The words were cut short, by another and a still more extraordinary
interruption. A young Indian came bounding through the Huron ranks,
leaping into the very centre of the circle, in a way to denote the utmost
confidence, or a temerity bordering on foolhardiness. Five or six
sentinels were still watching the lake at different and distant points,
and it was the first impression of Rivenoak that one of these had come in,
with tidings of import. Still the movements of the stranger were so rapid,
and his war dress, which scarcely left him more drapery than an antique
statue, had so little distinguishing about it, that, at the first moment,
it was impossible to ascertain whether he were friend or foe. Three leaps
carried this warrior to the side of Deerslayer, whose withes were cut in
the twinkling of an eye, with a quickness and precision that left the
prisoner perfect master of his limbs. Not till this was effected did the
stranger bestow a glance on any other object; then he turned and showed
the astonished Hurons the noble brow, fine person, and eagle eye, of a
young warrior, in the paint and panoply of a Delaware. He held a rifle in
each hand, the butts of both resting on the earth, while from one dangled
its proper pouch and horn. This was Killdeer which, even as he looked
boldly and in defiance at the crowd around him, he suffered to fall back
into the hands of its proper owner. The presence of two armed men, though
it was in their midst, startled the Hurons. Their rifles were scattered
about against the different trees, and their only weapons were their
knives and tomahawks. Still they had too much self-possession to betray
fear. It was little likely that so small a force would assail so strong a
band, and each man expected some extraordinary proposition to succeed so
decisive a step. The stranger did not seem disposed to disappoint them; he
prepared to speak.

“Hurons,” he said, “this earth is very big. The Great Lakes are big, too;
there is room beyond them for the Iroquois; there is room for the
Delawares on this side. I am Chingachgook the Son of Uncas; the kinsman of
Tamenund. This is my betrothed; that pale-face is my friend. My heart was
heavy, when I missed him; I followed him to your camp, to see that no harm
happened to him. All the Delaware girls are waiting for Wah; they wonder
that she stays away so long. Come, let us say farewell, and go on our
path.”

“Hurons, this is your mortal enemy, the Great Serpent of them you hate!”
cried Briarthorn. “If he escape, blood will be in your moccasin prints,
from this spot to the Canadas. I am all Huron!” As the last words were
uttered, the traitor cast his knife at the naked breast of the Delaware. A
quick movement of the arm, on the part of Hist, who stood near, turned
aside the blow, the dangerous weapon burying its point in a pine. At the
next instant, a similar weapon glanced from the hand of the Serpent, and
quivered in the recreant’s heart. A minute had scarcely elapsed from the
moment in which Chingachgook bounded into the circle, and that in which
Briarthorn fell, like a log, dead in his tracks. The rapidity of events
had prevented the Hurons from acting; but this catastrophe permitted no
farther delay. A common exclamation followed, and the whole party was in
motion. At this instant a sound unusual to the woods was heard, and every
Huron, male and female, paused to listen, with ears erect and faces filled
with expectation. The sound was regular and heavy, as if the earth were
struck with beetles. Objects became visible among the trees of the
background, and a body of troops was seen advancing with measured tread.
They came upon the charge, the scarlet of the King’s livery shining among
the bright green foliage of the forest.

The scene that followed is not easily described. It was one in which wild
confusion, despair, and frenzied efforts, were so blended as to destroy
the unity and distinctness of the action. A general yell burst from the
enclosed Hurons; it was succeeded by the hearty cheers of England. Still
not a musket or rifle was fired, though that steady, measured tramp
continued, and the bayonet was seen gleaming in advance of a line that
counted nearly sixty men. The Hurons were taken at a fearful disadvantage.
On three sides was the water, while their formidable and trained foes cut
them off from flight on the fourth. Each warrior rushed for his arms, and
then all on the point, man, woman and child, eagerly sought the covers. In
this scene of confusion and dismay, however, nothing could surpass the
discretion and coolness of Deerslayer. His first care was to place Judith
and Hist behind trees, and he looked for Hetty; but she had been hurried
away in the crowd of Huron women. This effected, he threw himself on a
flank of the retiring Hurons, who were inclining off towards the southern
margin of the point, in the hope of escaping through the water. Deerslayer
watched his opportunity, and finding two of his recent tormentors in a
range, his rifle first broke the silence of the terrific scene. The bullet
brought down both at one discharge. This drew a general fire from the
Hurons, and the rifle and war cry of the Serpent were heard in the clamor.
Still the trained men returned no answering volley, the whoop and piece of
Hurry alone being heard on their side, if we except the short, prompt word
of authority, and that heavy, measured and menacing tread. Presently,
however, the shrieks, groans, and denunciations that usually accompany the
use of the bayonet followed. That terrible and deadly weapon was glutted
in vengeance. The scene that succeeded was one of those of which so many
have occurred in our own times, in which neither age nor sex forms an
exemption to the lot of a savage warfare.


Chapter XXXI.

The picture next presented, by the point of land that the unfortunate
Hurons had selected for their last place of encampment, need scarcely be
laid before the eyes of the reader. Happily for the more tender-minded and
the more timid, the trunks of the trees, the leaves, and the smoke had
concealed much of that which passed, and night shortly after drew its veil
over the lake, and the whole of that seemingly interminable wilderness;
which may be said to have then stretched, with few and immaterial
interruptions, from the banks of the Hudson to the shores of the Pacific
Ocean. Our business carries us into the following day, when light returned
upon the earth, as sunny and as smiling as if nothing extraordinary had
occurred.

When the sun rose on the following morning, every sign of hostility and
alarm had vanished from the basin of the Glimmerglass. The frightful event
of the preceding evening had left no impression on the placid sheet, and
the untiring hours pursued their course in the placid order prescribed by
the powerful hand that set them in motion. The birds were again skimming
the water, or were seen poised on the wing, high above the tops of the
tallest pines of the mountains, ready to make their swoops, in obedience
to the irresistable law of their natures. In a word, nothing was changed,
but the air of movement and life that prevailed in and around the castle.
Here, indeed, was an alteration that must have struck the least observant
eye. A sentinel, who wore the light infantry uniform of a royal regiment,
paced the platform with measured tread, and some twenty more of the same
corps lounged about the place, or were seated in the ark. Their arms were
stacked under the eye of their comrade on post. Two officers stood
examining the shore, with the ship’s glass so often mentioned. Their looks
were directed to that fatal point, where scarlet coats were still to be
seen gliding among the trees, and where the magnifying power of the
instrument also showed spades at work, and the sad duty of interment going
on. Several of the common men bore proofs on their persons that their
enemies had not been overcome entirely without resistance, and the
youngest of the two officers on the platform wore an arm in a sling. His
companion, who commanded the party, had been more fortunate. He it was who
used the glass, in making the reconnoissances in which the two were
engaged.

A sergeant approached to make a report. He addressed the senior of these
officers as Capt. Warley, while the other was alluded to as Mr., which was
equivalent to Ensign Thornton. The former it will at once be seen was the
officer who had been named with so much feeling in the parting dialogue
between Judith and Hurry. He was, in truth, the very individual with whom
the scandal of the garrisons had most freely connected the name of this
beautiful but indiscreet girl. He was a hard featured, red faced man of
about five and thirty; but of a military carriage, and with an air of
fashion that might easily impose on the imagination of one as ignorant of
the world as Judith.

“Craig is covering us with benedictions,” observed this person to his
young ensign, with an air of indifference, as he shut the glass and handed
it to his servant; “to say the truth, not without reason; it is certainly
more agreeable to be here in attendance on Miss Judith Hutter, than to be
burying Indians on a point of the lake, however romantic the position, or
brilliant the victory. By the way, Wright—is Davis still living?”

“He died about ten minutes since, your honor,” returned the sergeant to
whom this question was addressed. “I knew how it would be, as soon as I
found the bullet had touched the stomach. I never knew a man who could
hold out long, if he had a hole in his stomach.”

“No; it is rather inconvenient for carrying away any thing very
nourishing,” observed Warley, gaping. “This being up two nights de suite,
Arthur, plays the devil with a man’s faculties! I’m as stupid as one of
those Dutch parsons on the Mohawk—I hope your arm is not painful, my
dear boy?”

“It draws a few grimaces from me, sir, as I suppose you see,” answered the
youth, laughing at the very moment his countenance was a little awry with
pain. “But it may be borne. I suppose Graham can spare a few minutes,
soon, to look at my hurt.”

“She is a lovely creature, this Judith Hutter, after all, Thornton; and it
shall not be my fault if she is not seen and admired in the Parks!”
resumed Warley, who thought little of his companion’s wound—“your
arm, eh! Quite True—Go into the ark, sergeant, and tell Dr. Graham I
desire he would look at Mr. Thornton’s injury, as soon as he has done with
the poor fellow with the broken leg. A lovely creature! and she looked
like a queen in that brocade dress in which we met her. I find all changed
here; father and mother both gone, the sister dying, if not dead, and none
of the family left, but the beauty! This has been a lucky expedition all
round, and promises to terminate better than Indian skirmishes in
general.”

“Am I to suppose, sir, that you are about to desert your colours, in the
great corps of bachelors, and close the campaign with matrimony?”

“I, Tom Warley, turn Benedict! Faith, my dear boy, you little know the
corps you speak of, if you fancy any such thing. I do suppose there are
women in the colonies that a captain of Light Infantry need not disdain;
but they are not to be found up here, on a mountain lake; or even down on
the Dutch river where we are posted. It is true, my uncle, the general,
once did me the favor to choose a wife for me in Yorkshire; but she had no
beauty—and I would not marry a princess, unless she were handsome.”

“If handsome, you would marry a beggar?”

“Ay, these are the notions of an ensign! Love in a cottage—doors—and
windows—the old story, for the hundredth time. The 20th—don’t
marry. We are not a marrying corps, my dear boy. There’s the Colonel, Old
Sir Edwin——-, now; though a full General he has never thought
of a wife; and when a man gets as high as a Lieutenant General, without
matrimony, he is pretty safe. Then the Lieutenant Colonel is confirmed, as
I tell my cousin the bishop. The Major is a widower, having tried
matrimony for twelve months in his youth, and we look upon him, now, as
one of our most certain men. Out of ten captains, but one is in the
dilemma, and he, poor devil, is always kept at regimental headquarters, as
a sort of memento mori, to the young men as they join. As for the
subalterns, not one has ever yet had the audacity to speak of introducing
a wife into the regiment. But your arm is troublesome, and we’ll go
ourselves and see what has become of Graham.”

The surgeon who had accompanied the party was employed very differently
from what the captain supposed. When the assault was over, and the dead
and wounded were collected, poor Hetty had been found among the latter. A
rifle bullet had passed through her body, inflicting an injury that was
known at a glance to be mortal. How this wound was received, no one knew;
it was probably one of those casualties that ever accompany scenes like
that related in the previous chapter.

The Sumach, all the elderly women, and some of the Huron girls, had fallen
by the bayonet, either in the confusion of the melee, or from the
difficulty of distinguishing the sexes when the dress was so simple. Much
the greater portion of the warriors suffered on the spot. A few had
escaped, however, and two or three had been taken unharmed. As for the
wounded, the bayonet saved the surgeon much trouble. Rivenoak had escaped
with life and limb, but was injured and a prisoner. As Captain Warley and
his ensign went into the Ark they passed him, seated in dignified silence
in one end of the scow, his head and leg bound, but betraying no visible
sign of despondency or despair. That he mourned the loss of his tribe is
certain; still he did it in a manner that best became a warrior and a
chief.

The two soldiers found their surgeon in the principal room of the Ark. He
was just quitting the pallet of Hetty, with an expression of sorrowful
regret on his hard, pock-marked Scottish features, that it was not usual
to see there. All his assiduity had been useless, and he was compelled
reluctantly to abandon the expectation of seeing the girl survive many
hours. Dr. Graham was accustomed to death-bed scenes, and ordinarily they
produced but little impression on him. In all that relates to religion,
his was one of those minds which, in consequence of reasoning much on
material things, logically and consecutively, and overlooking the total
want of premises which such a theory must ever possess, through its want
of a primary agent, had become sceptical; leaving a vague opinion
concerning the origin of things, that, with high pretentions to
philosophy, failed in the first of all philosophical principles, a cause.
To him religious dependence appeared a weakness, but when he found one
gentle and young like Hetty, with a mind beneath the level of her race,
sustained at such a moment by these pious sentiments, and that, too, in a
way that many a sturdy warrior and reputed hero might have looked upon
with envy, he found himself affected by the sight to a degree that he
would have been ashamed to confess. Edinburgh and Aberdeen, then as now,
supplied no small portion of the medical men of the British service, and
Dr. Graham, as indeed his name and countenance equally indicated, was, by
birth a North Briton.

“Here is an extraordinary exhibition for a forest, and one but half-gifted
with reason,” he observed with a decided Scotch accent, as Warley and the
ensign entered; “I just hope, gentlemen, that when we three shall be
called on to quit the 20th, we may be found as resigned to go on the half
pay of another existence, as this poor demented chiel!”

“Is there no hope that she can survive the hurt?” demanded Warley, turning
his eyes towards the pallid Judith, on whose cheeks, however, two large
spots of red had settled as soon as he came into the cabin.

“No more than there is for Chairlie Stuart! Approach and judge for
yourselves, gentlemen; ye’ll see faith exemplified in an exceeding and
wonderful manner. There is a sort of arbitrium between life and death, in
actual conflict in the poor girl’s mind, that renders her an interesting
study to a philosopher. Mr. Thornton, I’m at your service, now; we can
just look at the arm in the next room, while we speculate as much as we
please on the operations and sinuosities of the human mind.”

The surgeon and ensign retired, and Warley had an opportunity of looking
about him more at leisure, and with a better understanding of the nature
and feelings of the group collected in the cabin. Poor Hetty had been
placed on her own simple bed, and was reclining in a half seated attitude,
with the approaches of death on her countenance, though they were
singularly dimmed by the lustre of an expression in which all the
intelligence of her entire being appeared to be concentrated. Judith and
Hist were near her, the former seated in deep grief; the latter standing,
in readiness to offer any of the gentle attentions of feminine care.
Deerslayer stood at the end of the pallet, leaning on Killdeer, unharmed
in person, all the fine martial ardor that had so lately glowed in his
countenance having given place to the usual look of honesty and
benevolence, qualities of which the expression was now softened by manly
regret and pity. The Serpent was in the background of the picture, erect,
and motionless as a statue; but so observant that not a look of the eye
escaped his own keen glances. Hurry completed the group, being seated on a
stool near the door, like one who felt himself out of place in such a
scene, but who was ashamed to quit it, unbidden.

“Who is that in scarlet?” asked Hetty, as soon as the Captain’s uniform
caught her eye. “Tell me, Judith, is it the friend of Hurry?”

“’Tis the officer who commands the troops that have rescued us all from
the hands of the Hurons,” was the low answer of the sister.

“Am I rescued, too!—I thought they said I was shot, and about to
die. Mother is dead; and so is father; but you are living, Judith, and so
is Hurry. I was afraid Hurry would be killed, when I heard him shouting
among the soldiers.”

“Never mind—never mind, dear Hetty—” interrupted Judith,
sensitively alive to the preservation of her sister’s secret, more,
perhaps, at such a moment, than at any other. “Hurry is well, and
Deerslayer is well, and the Delaware is well, too.”

“How came they to shoot a poor girl like me, and let so many men go
unharmed? I didn’t know that the Hurons were so wicked, Judith!”

“’Twas an accident, poor Hetty; a sad accident it has been! No one would
willingly have injured you.”

“I’m glad of that!—I thought it strange; I am feeble minded, and the
redmen have never harmed me before. I should be sorry to think that they
had changed their minds. I am glad too, Judith, that they haven’t hurt
Hurry. Deerslayer I don’t think God will suffer any one to harm. It was
very fortunate the soldiers came as they did though, for fire will burn!”

“It was indeed fortunate, my sister; God’s holy name be forever blessed
for the mercy!”

“I dare say, Judith, you know some of the officers; you used to know so
many!”

Judith made no reply; she hid her face in her hands and groaned. Hetty
gazed at her in wonder; but naturally supposing her own situation was the
cause of this grief, she kindly offered to console her sister.

“Don’t mind me, dear Judith,” said the affectionate and pure-hearted
creature, “I don’t suffer; if I do die, why father and mother are both
dead, and what happens to them may well happen to me. You know I am of
less account than any of the family; therefore few will think of me after
I’m in the lake.”

“No, no, no—poor, dear, dear Hetty!” exclaimed Judith, in an
uncontrollable burst of sorrow, “I, at least, will ever think of you; and
gladly, oh! how gladly would I exchange places with you, to be the pure,
excellent, sinless creature you are!”

Until now, Captain Warley had stood leaning against the door of the cabin;
when this outbreak of feeling, and perchance of penitence, however,
escaped the beautiful girl, he walked slowly and thoughtfully away; even
passing the ensign, then suffering under the surgeon’s care, without
noticing him.

“I have got my Bible here, Judith,” returned her sister in a voice of
triumph. “It’s true, I can’t read any longer, there’s something the matter
with my eyes—you look dim and distant—and so does Hurry, now I
look at him—well, I never could have believed that Henry March would
have so dull a look! What can be the reason, Judith, that I see so badly,
today? I, who mother always said had the best eyes in the whole family.
Yes, that was it: my mind was feeble—what people call half-witted—but
my eyes were so good!”

Again Judith groaned; this time no feeling of self, no retrospect of the
past caused the pain. It was the pure, heartfelt sorrow of sisterly love,
heightened by a sense of the meek humility and perfect truth of the being
before her. At that moment, she would gladly have given up her own life to
save that of Hetty. As the last, however, was beyond the reach of human
power, she felt there was nothing left her but sorrow. At this moment
Warley returned to the cabin, drawn by a secret impulse he could not
withstand, though he felt, just then, as if he would gladly abandon the
American continent forever, were it practicable. Instead of pausing at the
door, he now advanced so near the pallet of the sufferer as to come more
plainly within her gaze. Hetty could still distinguish large objects, and
her look soon fastened on him.

“Are you the officer that came with Hurry?” she asked. “If you are, we
ought all to thank you, for, though I am hurt, the rest have saved their
lives. Did Harry March tell you, where to find us, and how much need there
was for your services?”

“The news of the party reached us by means of a friendly runner,” returned
the Captain, glad to relieve his feelings by this appearance of a friendly
communication, “and I was immediately sent out to cut it off. It was
fortunate, certainly, that we met Hurry Harry, as you call him, for he
acted as a guide, and it was not less fortunate that we heard a firing,
which I now understand was merely a shooting at the mark, for it not only
quickened our march, but called us to the right side of the lake. The
Delaware saw us on the shore, with the glass it would seem, and he and
Hist, as I find his squaw is named, did us excellent service. It was
really altogether a fortunate concurrence of circumstances, Judith.”

“Talk not to me of any thing fortunate, sir,” returned the girl huskily,
again concealing her face. “To me the world is full of misery. I wish
never to hear of marks, or rifles, or soldiers, or men, again!”

“Do you know my sister?” asked Hetty, ere the rebuked soldier had time to
rally for an answer. “How came you to know that her name is Judith? You
are right, for that is her name; and I am Hetty; Thomas Hutter’s
daughters.”

“For heaven’s sake, dearest sister; for my sake, beloved Hetty,”
interposed Judith, imploringly, “say no more of this!”

Hetty looked surprised, but accustomed to comply, she ceased her awkward
and painful interrogations of Warley, bending her eyes towards the Bible
which she still held between her hands, as one would cling to a casket of
precious stones in a shipwreck, or a conflagration. Her mind now adverted
to the future, losing sight, in a great measure, of the scenes of the
past.

“We shall not long be parted, Judith,” she said; “when you die, you must
be brought and be buried in the lake, by the side of mother, too.”

“Would to God, Hetty, that I lay there at this moment!”

“No, that cannot be, Judith; people must die before they have any right to
be buried. ‘Twould be wicked to bury you, or for you to bury yourself,
while living. Once I thought of burying myself; God kept me from that
sin.”

“You!—You, Hetty Hutter, think of such an act!” exclaimed Judith,
looking up in uncontrollable surprise, for she well knew nothing passed
the lips of her conscientious sister, that was not religiously true.

“Yes, I did, Judith, but God has forgotten—no he forgets nothing—but
he has forgiven it,” returned the dying girl, with the subdued manner of a
repentant child. “’Twas after mother’s death; I felt I had lost the best
friend I had on earth, if not the only friend. ‘Tis true, you and father
were kind to me, Judith, but I was so feeble-minded, I knew I should only
give you trouble; and then you were so often ashamed of such a sister and
daughter, and ’tis hard to live in a world where all look upon you as
below them. I thought then, if I could bury myself by the side of mother,
I should be happier in the lake than in the hut.”

“Forgive me—pardon me, dearest Hetty—on my bended knees, I beg
you to pardon me, sweet sister, if any word, or act of mine drove you to
so maddening and cruel a thought!”

“Get up, Judith—kneel to God; don’t kneel to me. Just so I felt when
mother was dying! I remembered everything I had said and done to vex her,
and could have kissed her feet for forgiveness. I think it must be so with
all dying people; though, now I think of it, I don’t remember to have had
such feelings on account of father.”

Judith arose, hid her face in her apron, and wept. A long pause—one
of more than two hours—succeeded, during which Warley entered and
left the cabin several times; apparently uneasy when absent, and yet
unable to remain. He issued various orders, which his men proceeded to
execute, and there was an air of movement in the party, more especially as
Mr. Craig, the lieutenant, had got through the unpleasant duty of burying
the dead, and had sent for instructions from the shore, desiring to know
what he was to do with his detachment. During this interval Hetty slept a
little, and Deerslayer and Chingachgook left the Ark to confer together.
But, at the end of the time mentioned, the Surgeon passed upon the
platform, and with a degree of feeling his comrades had never before
observed in one of his habits, he announced that the patient was rapidly
drawing near her end. On receiving this intelligence the group collected
again, curiosity to witness such a death—or a better feeling—drawing
to the spot men who had so lately been actors in a scene seemingly of so
much greater interest and moment. By this time Judith had got to be
inactive through grief, and Hist alone was performing the little offices
of feminine attention that are so appropriate to the sick bed. Hetty
herself had undergone no other apparent change than the general failing
that indicated the near approach of dissolution. All that she possessed of
mind was as clear as ever, and, in some respects, her intellect perhaps
was more than usually active.

“Don’t grieve for me so much, Judith,” said the gentle sufferer, after a
pause in her remarks; “I shall soon see mother—I think I see her
now; her face is just as sweet and smiling as it used to be! Perhaps when
I’m dead, God will give me all my mind, and I shall become a more fitting
companion for mother than I ever was before.”

“You will be an angel in heaven, Hetty,” sobbed the sister; “no spirit
there will be more worthy of its holy residence!”

“I don’t understand it quite; still, I know it must be all true; I’ve read
it in the Bible. How dark it’s becoming! Can it be night so soon? I can
hardly see you at all—where is Hist?”

“I here, poor girl—Why you no see me?”

“I do see you; but I couldn’t tell whether ’twas you, or Judith. I believe
I shan’t see you much longer, Hist.”

“Sorry for that, poor Hetty. Never mind—pale-face got a heaven for
girl as well as for warrior.”

“Where’s the Serpent? Let me speak to him; give me his hand; so; I feel
it. Delaware, you will love and cherish this young Indian woman—I
know how fond she is of you; you must be fond of her. Don’t treat her as
some of your people treat their wives; be a real husband to her. Now,
bring Deerslayer near me; give me his hand.”

This request was complied with, and the hunter stood by the side of the
pallet, submitting to the wishes of the girl with the docility of a child.

“I feel, Deerslayer,” she resumed, “though I couldn’t tell why—but I
feel that you and I are not going to part for ever. ‘Tis a strange
feeling! I never had it before; I wonder what it comes from!”

“’Tis God encouraging you in extremity, Hetty; as such it ought to be
harbored and respected. Yes, we shall meet ag’in, though it may be a long
time first, and in a far distant land.”

“Do you mean to be buried in the lake, too? If so, that may account for
the feeling.”

“’Tis little likely, gal; ’tis little likely; but there’s a region for
Christian souls, where there’s no lakes, nor woods, they say; though why
there should be none of the last, is more than I can account for; seeing
that pleasantness and peace is the object in view. My grave will be found
in the forest, most likely, but I hope my spirit will not be far from
your’n.”

“So it must be, then. I am too weak-minded to understand these things, but
I feel that you and I will meet again. Sister, where are you? I can’t see,
now, anything but darkness. It must be night, surely!”

“Oh! Hetty, I am here at your side; these are my arms that are around
you,” sobbed Judith. “Speak, dearest; is there anything you wish to say,
or have done, in this awful moment.”

By this time Hetty’s sight had entirely failed her. Nevertheless death
approached with less than usual of its horrors, as if in tenderness to one
of her half-endowed faculties. She was pale as a corpse, but her breathing
was easy and unbroken, while her voice, though lowered almost to a
whisper, remained clear and distinct. When her sister put this question,
however, a blush diffused itself over the features of the dying girl, so
faint however as to be nearly imperceptible; resembling that hue of the
rose which is thought to portray the tint of modesty, rather than the dye
of the flower in its richer bloom. No one but Judith detected this
exposure of feeling, one of the gentle expressions of womanly sensibility,
even in death. On her, however, it was not lost, nor did she conceal from
herself the cause.

“Hurry is here, dearest Hetty,” whispered the sister, with her face so
near the sufferer as to keep the words from other ears. “Shall I tell him
to come and receive your good wishes?”

A gentle pressure of the hand answered in the affirmative. Then Hurry was
brought to the side of the pallet. It is probable that this handsome but
rude woodsman had never before found himself so awkwardly placed, though
the inclination which Hetty felt for him (a sort of secret yielding to the
instincts of nature, rather than any unbecoming impulse of an
ill-regulated imagination), was too pure and unobtrusive to have created
the slightest suspicion of the circumstance in his mind. He allowed Judith
to put his hard colossal hand between those of Hetty, and stood waiting
the result in awkward silence.

“This is Hurry, dearest,” whispered Judith, bending over her sister,
ashamed to utter the words so as to be audible to herself. “Speak to him,
and let him go.”

“What shall I say, Judith?”

“Nay, whatever your own pure spirit teaches, my love. Trust to that, and
you need fear nothing.”

“Good bye, Hurry,” murmured the girl, with a gentle pressure of his hand.
“I wish you would try and be more like Deerslayer.”

These words were uttered with difficulty; a faint flush succeeded them for
a single instant. Then the hand was relinquished, and Hetty turned her
face aside, as if done with the world. The mysterious feeling that bound
her to the young man, a sentiment so gentle as to be almost imperceptible
to herself, and which could never have existed at all, had her reason
possessed more command over her senses, was forever lost in thoughts of a
more elevated, though scarcely of a purer character.

“Of what are you thinking, my sweet sister?” whispered Judith “Tell me,
that I may aid you at this moment.”

“Mother—I see Mother, now, and bright beings around her in the lake.
Why isn’t father there? It’s odd that I can see Mother, when I can’t see
you! Farewell, Judith.”

The last words were uttered after a pause, and her sister had hung over
her some time, in anxious watchfulness, before she perceived that the
gentle spirit had departed. Thus died Hetty Hutter, one of those
mysterious links between the material and immaterial world, which, while
they appear to be deprived of so much that it is esteemed and necessary
for this state of being, draw so near to, and offer so beautiful an
illustration of the truth, purity, and simplicity of another.


Chapter XXXII

The day that followed proved to be melancholy, though one of much
activity. The soldiers, who had so lately been employed in interring their
victims, were now called on to bury their own dead. The scene of the
morning had left a saddened feeling on all the gentlemen of the party, and
the rest felt the influence of a similar sensation, in a variety of ways
and from many causes. Hour dragged on after hour until evening arrived,
and then came the last melancholy offices in honor of poor Hetty Hutter.
Her body was laid in the lake, by the side of that of the mother she had
so loved and reverenced, the surgeon, though actually an unbeliever, so
far complying with the received decencies of life as to read the funeral
service over her grave, as he had previously done over those of the other
Christian slain. It mattered not; that all seeing eye which reads the
heart, could not fail to discriminate between the living and the dead, and
the gentle soul of the unfortunate girl was already far removed beyond the
errors, or deceptions, of any human ritual. These simple rites, however,
were not wholly wanting in suitable accompaniments. The tears of Judith
and Hist were shed freely, and Deerslayer gazed upon the limpid water,
that now flowed over one whose spirit was even purer than its own mountain
springs, with glistening eyes. Even the Delaware turned aside to conceal
his weakness, while the common men gazed on the ceremony with wondering
eyes and chastened feelings.

The business of the day closed with this pious office. By order of the
commanding officer, all retired early to rest, for it was intended to
begin the march homeward with the return of light. One party, indeed,
bearing the wounded, the prisoners, and the trophies, had left the castle
in the middle of the day under the guidance of Hurry, intending to reach
the fort by shorter marches. It had been landed on the point so often
mentioned, or that described in our opening pages, and, when the sun set,
was already encamped on the brow of the long, broken, and ridgy hills,
that fell away towards the valley of the Mohawk. The departure of this
detachment had greatly simplified the duty of the succeeding day,
disencumbering its march of its baggage and wounded, and otherwise leaving
him who had issued the order greater liberty of action.

Judith held no communications with any but Hist, after the death of her
sister, until she retired for the night. Her sorrow had been respected,
and both the females had been left with the body, unintruded on, to the
last moment. The rattling of the drum broke the silence of that tranquil
water, and the echoes of the tattoo were heard among the mountains, so
soon after the ceremony was over as to preclude the danger of
interruption. That star which had been the guide of Hist, rose on a scene
as silent as if the quiet of nature had never yet been disturbed by the
labors or passions of man. One solitary sentinel, with his relief, paced
the platform throughout the night, and morning was ushered in, as usual,
by the martial beat of the reveille.

Military precision succeeded to the desultory proceedings of border men,
and when a hasty and frugal breakfast was taken, the party began its
movement towards the shore with a regularity and order that prevented
noise or confusion. Of all the officers, Warley alone remained. Craig
headed the detachment in advance, Thornton was with the wounded, and
Graham accompanied his patients as a matter of course. Even the chest of
Hutter, with all the more valuable of his effects, was borne away, leaving
nothing behind that was worth the labor of a removal. Judith was not sorry
to see that the captain respected her feelings, and that he occupied
himself entirely with the duty of his command, leaving her to her own
discretion and feelings. It was understood by all that the place was to be
totally abandoned; but beyond this no explanations were asked or given.

The soldiers embarked in the Ark, with the captain at their head. He had
enquired of Judith in what way she chose to proceed, and understanding her
wish to remain with Hist to the last moment, he neither molested her with
requests, nor offended her with advice. There was but one safe and
familiar trail to the Mohawk, and on that, at the proper hour, he doubted
not that they should meet in amity, if not in renewed intercourse. When
all were on board, the sweeps were manned, and the Ark moved in its
sluggish manner towards the distant point. Deerslayer and Chingachgook now
lifted two of the canoes from the water, and placed them in the castle.
The windows and door were then barred, and the house was left by means of
the trap, in the manner already described. On quitting the palisades, Hist
was seen in the remaining canoe, where the Delaware immediately joined
her, and paddled away, leaving Judith standing alone on the platform.
Owing to this prompt proceeding, Deerslayer found himself alone with the
beautiful and still weeping mourner. Too simple to suspect anything, the
young man swept the light boat round, and received its mistress in it,
when he followed the course already taken by his friend. The direction to
the point led diagonally past, and at no great distance from, the graves
of the dead. As the canoe glided by, Judith for the first time that
morning spoke to her companion. She said but little; merely uttering a
simple request to stop, for a minute or two, ere she left the place.

“I may never see this spot again, Deerslayer,” she said, “and it contains
the bodies of my mother and sister! Is it not possible, think you, that
the innocence of one of these beings may answer in the eyes of God for the
salvation of both?”

“I don’t understand it so, Judith, though I’m no missionary, and am but
poorly taught. Each spirit answers for its own backslidings, though a
hearty repentance will satisfy God’s laws.”

“Then must my poor poor mother be in heaven! Bitterly, bitterly has she
repented of her sins, and surely her sufferings in this life ought to
count as something against her sufferings in the next!”

“All this goes beyond me, Judith. I strive to do right, here, as the
surest means of keeping all right, hereafter. Hetty was oncommon, as all
that know’d her must allow, and her soul was as fit to consart with angels
the hour it left its body, as that of any saint in the Bible!”

“I do believe you only do her justice! Alas! Alas! that there should be so
great differences between those who were nursed at the same breast, slept
in the same bed, and dwelt under the same roof! But, no matter—move
the canoe, a little farther east, Deerslayer—the sun so dazzles my
eyes that I cannot see the graves. This is Hetty’s, on the right of
mother’s?”

“Sartain—you ask’d that of us, and all are glad to do as you wish,
Judith, when you do that which is right.”

The girl gazed at him near a minute, in silent attention; then she turned
her eyes backward, at the castle. “This lake will soon be entirely
deserted,” she said, “and this, too, at a moment when it will be a more
secure dwelling place than ever. What has so lately happened will prevent
the Iroquois from venturing again to visit it for a long time to come.”

“That it will! Yes, that may be set down as sartain. I do not mean to pass
this-a-way, ag’in, so long as the war lasts, for, to my mind no Huron
moccasin will leave its print on the leaves of this forest, until their
traditions have forgotten to tell their young men of their disgrace and
rout.”

“And do you so delight in violence and bloodshed? I had thought better of
you, Deerslayer—believed you one who could find his happiness in a
quiet domestic home, with an attached and loving wife ready to study your
wishes, and healthy and dutiful children anxious to follow in your
footsteps, and to become as honest and just as yourself.”

“Lord, Judith, what a tongue you’re mistress of! Speech and looks go hand
in hand, like, and what one can’t do, the other is pretty sartain to
perform! Such a gal, in a month, might spoil the stoutest warrior in the
colony.”

“And am I then so mistaken? Do you really love war, Deerslayer, better
than the hearth, and the affections?”

“I understand your meaning, gal; yes, I do understand what you mean, I
believe, though I don’t think you altogether understand me. Warrior I may
now call myself, I suppose, for I’ve both fou’t and conquered, which is
sufficient for the name; neither will I deny that I’ve feelin’s for the
callin’, which is both manful and honorable when carried on accordin’ to
nat’ral gifts, but I’ve no relish for blood. Youth is youth, howsever, and
a Mingo is a Mingo. If the young men of this region stood by, and suffered
the vagabonds to overrun the land, why, we might as well all turn
Frenchers at once, and give up country and kin. I’m no fire eater, Judith,
or one that likes fightin’ for fightin’s sake, but I can see no great
difference atween givin’ up territory afore a war, out of a dread of war,
and givin’ it up a’ter a war, because we can’t help it, onless it be that
the last is the most manful and honorable.”

“No woman would ever wish to see her husband or brother stand by and
submit to insult and wrong, Deerslayer, however she might mourn the
necessity of his running into the dangers of battle. But, you’ve done
enough already, in clearing this region of the Hurons; since to you is
principally owing the credit of our late victory. Now, listen to me
patiently, and answer me with that native honesty, which it is as pleasant
to regard in one of your sex, as it is unusual to meet with.”

Judith paused, for now that she was on the very point of explaining
herself, native modesty asserted its power, notwithstanding the
encouragement and confidence she derived from the great simplicity of her
companion’s character. Her cheeks, which had so lately been pale, flushed,
and her eyes lighted with some of their former brilliancy. Feeling gave
expression to her countenance and softness to her voice, rendering her who
was always beautiful, trebly seductive and winning.

“Deerslayer,” she said, after a considerable pause, “this is not a moment
for affectation, deception, or a want of frankness of any sort. Here, over
my mother’s grave, and over the grave of truth-loving, truth-telling
Hetty, everything like unfair dealing seems to be out of place. I will,
therefore, speak to you without any reserve, and without any dread of
being misunderstood. You are not an acquaintance of a week, but it appears
to me as if I had known you for years. So much, and so much that is
important has taken place, within that short time, that the sorrows, and
dangers, and escapes of a whole life have been crowded into a few days,
and they who have suffered and acted together in such scenes, ought not to
feel like strangers. I know that what I am about to say might be
misunderstood by most men, but I hope for a generous construction of my
course from you. We are not here, dwelling among the arts and deceptions
of the settlements, but young people who have no occasion to deceive each
other, in any manner or form. I hope I make myself understood?”

“Sartain, Judith; few convarse better than yourself, and none more
agreeable, like. Your words are as pleasant as your looks.”

“It is the manner in which you have so often praised those looks, that
gives me courage to proceed. Still, Deerslayer, it is not easy for one of
my sex and years to forget all her lessons of infancy, all her habits, and
her natural diffidence, and say openly what her heart feels!”

“Why not, Judith? Why shouldn’t women as well as men deal fairly and
honestly by their fellow creatur’s? I see no reason why you should not
speak as plainly as myself, when there is any thing ra’ally important to
be said.”

This indomitable diffidence, which still prevented the young man from
suspecting the truth, would have completely discouraged the girl, had not
her whole soul, as well as her whole heart, been set upon making a
desperate effort to rescue herself from a future that she dreaded with a
horror as vivid as the distinctness with which she fancied she foresaw it.
This motive, however, raised her above all common considerations, and she
persevered even to her own surprise, if not to her great confusion.

“I will—I must deal as plainly with you, as I would with poor, dear
Hetty, were that sweet child living!” she continued, turning pale instead
of blushing, the high resolution by which she was prompted reversing the
effect that such a procedure would ordinarily produce on one of her sex;
“yes, I will smother all other feelings, in the one that is now uppermost!
You love the woods and the life that we pass, here, in the wilderness,
away from the dwellings and towns of the whites.”

“As I loved my parents, Judith, when they was living! This very spot would
be all creation to me, could this war be fairly over, once; and the
settlers kept at a distance.”

“Why quit it, then? It has no owner—at least none who can claim a
better right than mine, and that I freely give to you. Were it a kingdom,
Deerslayer, I think I should delight to say the same. Let us then return
to it, after we have seen the priest at the fort, and never quit it again,
until God calls us away to that world where we shall find the spirits of
my poor mother and sister.”

A long, thoughtful pause succeeded; Judith here covered her face with both
her hands, after forcing herself to utter so plain a proposal, and
Deerslayer musing equally in sorrow and surprise, on the meaning of the
language he had just heard. At length the hunter broke the silence,
speaking in a tone that was softened to gentleness by his desire not to
offend.

“You haven’t thought well of this, Judith,” he said, “no, your feelin’s
are awakened by all that has lately happened, and believin’ yourself to be
without kindred in the world, you are in too great haste to find some to
fill the places of them that’s lost.”

“Were I living in a crowd of friends, Deerslayer, I should still think as
I now think—say as I now say,” returned Judith, speaking with her
hands still shading her lovely face.

“Thank you, gal—thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Howsever, I
am not one to take advantage of a weak moment, when you’re forgetful of
your own great advantages, and fancy ‘arth and all it holds is in this
little canoe. No—no—Judith, ‘twould be onginerous in me; what
you’ve offered can never come to pass!”

“It all may be, and that without leaving cause of repentance to any,”
answered Judith, with an impetuosity of feeling and manner that at once
unveiled her eyes. “We can cause the soldiers to leave our goods on the
road, till we return, when they can easily be brought back to the house;
the lake will be no more visited by the enemy, this war at least; all your
skins may be readily sold at the garrison; there you can buy the few
necessaries we shall want, for I wish never to see the spot, again; and
Deerslayer,” added the girl smiling with a sweetness and nature that the
young man found it hard to resist, “as a proof how wholly I am and wish to
be yours,—how completely I desire to be nothing but your wife, the
very first fire that we kindle, after our return, shall be lighted with
the brocade dress, and fed by every article I have that you may think
unfit for the woman you wish to live with!”

“Ah’s me!—you’re a winning and a lovely creatur’, Judith; yes, you
are all that, and no one can deny it and speak truth. These pictur’s are
pleasant to the thoughts, but they mightn’t prove so happy as you now
think ’em. Forget it all, therefore, and let us paddle after the Sarpent
and Hist, as if nothing had been said on the subject.”

Judith was deeply mortified, and, what is more, she was profoundly
grieved. Still there was a steadiness and quiet in the manner of
Deerslayer that completely smothered her hopes, and told her that for once
her exceeding beauty had failed to excite the admiration and homage it was
wont to receive. Women are said seldom to forgive those who slight their
advances, but this high spirited and impetuous girl entertained no shadow
of resentment, then or ever, against the fair dealing and ingenuous
hunter. At the moment, the prevailing feeling was the wish to be certain
that there was no misunderstanding. After another painful pause,
therefore, she brought the matter to an issue by a question too direct to
admit of equivocation.

“God forbid that we lay up regrets, in after life, through my want of
sincerity now,” she said. “I hope we understand each other, at least. You
will not accept me for a wife, Deerslayer?”

“’Tis better for both that I shouldn’t take advantage of your own
forgetfulness, Judith. We can never marry.”

“You do not love me,—cannot find it in your heart, perhaps, to
esteem me, Deerslayer!”

“Everything in the way of fri’ndship, Judith—everything, even to
sarvices and life itself. Yes, I’d risk as much for you, at this moment,
as I would risk in behalf of Hist, and that is sayin’ as much as I can say
of any darter of woman. I do not think I feel towards either—mind I
say either, Judith—as if I wished to quit father and mother—if
father and mother was livin’, which, howsever, neither is—but if
both was livin’, I do not feel towards any woman as if I wish’d to quit
’em in order to cleave unto her.”

“This is enough!” answered Judith, in a rebuked and smothered voice. “I
understand all that you mean. Marry you cannot with loving, and that love
you do not feel for me. Make no answer, if I am right, for I shall
understand your silence. That will be painful enough of itself.”

Deerslayer obeyed her, and he made no reply. For more than a minute, the
girl riveted her bright eyes on him as if to read his soul, while he was
playing with the water like a corrected school boy. Then Judith, herself,
dropped the end of her paddle, and urged the canoe away from the spot,
with a movement as reluctant as the feelings which controlled it.
Deerslayer quietly aided the effort, however, and they were soon on the
trackless line taken by the Delaware.

In their way to the point, not another syllable was exchanged between
Deerslayer and his fair companion. As Judith sat in the bow of the canoe,
her back was turned towards him, else it is probable the expression of her
countenance might have induced him to venture some soothing terms of
friendship and regard. Contrary to what would have been expected,
resentment was still absent, though the colour frequently changed from the
deep flush of mortification to the paleness of disappointment. Sorrow,
deep, heart-felt sorrow, however, was the predominant emotion, and this
was betrayed in a manner not to be mistaken.

As neither labored hard at the paddle, the ark had already arrived and the
soldiers had disembarked before the canoe of the two loiterers reached the
point. Chingachgook had preceded it, and was already some distance in the
wood, at a spot where the two trails, that to the garrison and that to the
villages of the Delawares, separated. The soldiers, too, had taken up
their line of march, first setting the Ark adrift again, with a reckless
disregard of its fate. All this Judith saw, but she heeded it not. The
glimmerglass had no longer any charms for her, and when she put her foot
on the strand, she immediately proceeded on the trail of the soldiers
without casting a single glance behind her. Even Hist was passed
unnoticed, that modest young creature shrinking from the averted face of
Judith, as if guilty herself of some wrongdoing.

“Wait you here, Sarpent,” said Deerslayer as he followed in the footsteps
of the dejected beauty, while passing his friend. “I will just see Judith
among her party, and come and j’ine you.”

A hundred yards had hid the couple from those in front, as well as those
in their rear, when Judith turned, and spoke.

“This will do, Deerslayer,” she said sadly. “I understand your kindness
but shall not need it. In a few minutes I shall reach the soldiers. As you
cannot go with me on the journey of life, I do not wish you to go further
on this. But, stop—before we part, I would ask you a single
question. And I require of you, as you fear God, and reverence the truth,
not to deceive me in your answer. I know you do not love another and I can
see but one reason why you cannot, will not love me. Tell me then,
Deerslayer,” The girl paused, the words she was about to utter seeming to
choke her. Then rallying all her resolution, with a face that flushed and
paled at every breath she drew, she continued.

“Tell me then, Deerslayer, if anything light of me, that Henry March has
said, may not have influenced your feelings?”

Truth was the Deerslayer’s polar star. He ever kept it in view, and it was
nearly impossible for him to avoid uttering it, even when prudence
demanded silence. Judith read his answer in his countenance, and with a
heart nearly broken by the consciousness of undue erring, she signed to
him an adieu, and buried herself in the woods. For some time Deerslayer
was irresolute as to his course; but, in the end, he retraced his steps,
and joined the Delaware. That night the three camped on the head waters of
their own river, and the succeeding evening they entered the village of
the tribe, Chingachgook and his betrothed in triumph; their companion
honored and admired, but in a sorrow that it required months of activity
to remove.

The war that then had its rise was stirring and bloody. The Delaware chief
rose among his people, until his name was never mentioned without
eulogiums, while another Uncas, the last of his race, was added to the
long line of warriors who bore that distinguishing appellation. As for the
Deerslayer, under the sobriquet of Hawkeye, he made his fame spread far
and near, until the crack of his rifle became as terrible to the ears of
the Mingos as the thunders of the Manitou. His services were soon required
by the officers of the crown, and he especially attached himself in the
field to one in particular, with whose after life he had a close and
important connection.

Fifteen years had passed away, ere it was in the power of the Deerslayer
to revisit the Glimmerglass. A peace had intervened, and it was on the eve
of another and still more important war, when he and his constant friend,
Chingachgook, were hastening to the forts to join their allies. A
stripling accompanied them, for Hist already slumbered beneath the pines
of the Delawares, and the three survivors had now become inseparable. They
reached the lake just as the sun was setting. Here all was unchanged. The
river still rushed through its bower of trees; the little rock was washing
away, by the slow action of the waves, in the course of centuries, the
mountains stood in their native dress, dark, rich and mysterious, while
the sheet glistened in its solitude, a beautiful gem of the forest.

The following morning, the youth discovered one of the canoes drifted on
the shore, in a state of decay. A little labor put it in a state for
service, and they all embarked, with a desire to examine the place. All
the points were passed, and Chingachgook pointed out to his son the spot
where the Hurons had first encamped, and the point whence he had succeeded
in stealing his bride. Here they even landed, but all traces of the former
visit had disappeared. Next they proceeded to the scene of the battle, and
there they found a few of the signs that linger around such localities.
Wild beasts had disinterred many of the bodies, and human bones were
bleaching in the rains of summer. Uncas regarded all with reverence and
pity, though traditions were already rousing his young mind to the
ambition and sternness of a warrior.

From the point, the canoe took its way toward the shoal, where the remains
of the castle were still visible, a picturesque ruin. The storms of winter
had long since unroofed the house, and decay had eaten into the logs. All
the fastenings were untouched, but the seasons rioted in the place, as if
in mockery at the attempt to exclude them. The palisades were rotting, as
were the piles, and it was evident that a few more recurrences of winter,
a few more gales and tempests, would sweep all into the lake, and blot the
building from the face of that magnificent solitude. The graves could not
be found. Either the elements had obliterated their traces, or time had
caused those who looked for them to forget their position.

The Ark was discovered stranded on the eastern shore, where it had long
before been driven with the prevalent northwest winds. It lay on the sandy
extremity of a long low point, that is situated about two miles from the
outlet, and which is itself fast disappearing before the action of the
elements. The scow was filled with water, the cabin unroofed, and the logs
were decaying. Some of its coarser furniture still remained, and the heart
of Deerslayer beat quick, as he found a ribbon of Judith’s fluttering from
a log. It recalled all her beauty, and we may add all her failings.
Although the girl had never touched his heart, the Hawkeye, for so we
ought now to call him, still retained a kind and sincere interest in her
welfare. He tore away the ribbon, and knotted it to the stock of Killdeer,
which had been the gift of the girl herself.

A few miles farther up the lake, another of the canoes was discovered, and
on the point where the party finally landed, were found those which had
been left there upon the shore. That in which the present navigation was
made, and the one discovered on the eastern shore, had dropped through the
decayed floor of the castle, drifted past the falling palisades, and had
been thrown as waifs upon the beach.

From all these signs, it was probable the lake had not been visited since
the occurrence of the final scene of our tale. Accident or tradition had
rendered it again a spot sacred to nature, the frequent wars and the
feeble population of the colonies still confining the settlements within
narrow boundaries. Chingachgook and his friend left the spot with
melancholy feelings. It had been the region of their First War Path, and
it carried back the minds of both to scenes of tenderness, as well as to
hours of triumph. They held their way towards the Mohawk in silence,
however, to rush into new adventures, as stirring and as remarkable as
those which had attended their opening careers on this lovely lake. At a
later day they returned to the place, where the Indian found a grave.

Time and circumstances have drawn an impenetrable mystery around all else
connected with the Hutters. They lived, erred, died, and are forgotten.
None connected have felt sufficient interest in the disgraced and
disgracing to withdraw the veil, and a century is about to erase even the
recollection of their names. The history of crime is ever revolting, and
it is fortunate that few love to dwell on its incidents. The sins of the
family have long since been arraigned at the judgment seat of God, or are
registered for the terrible settlement of the last great day.

The same fate attended Judith. When Hawkeye reached the garrison on the
Mohawk he enquired anxiously after that lovely but misguided creature.
None knew her—even her person was no longer remembered. Other
officers had, again and again, succeeded the Warleys and Craigs and
Grahams, though an old sergeant of the garrison, who had lately come from
England, was enabled to tell our hero that Sir Robert Warley lived on his
paternal estates, and that there was a lady of rare beauty in the Lodge
who had great influence over him, though she did not bear his name.
Whether this was Judith relapsed into her early failing, or some other
victim of the soldier’s, Hawkeye never knew, nor would it be pleasant or
profitable to inquire. We live in a world of transgressions and
selfishness, and no pictures that represent us otherwise can be true,
though, happily, for human nature, gleamings of that pure spirit in whose
likeness man has been fashioned are to be seen, relieving its deformities,
and mitigating if not excusing its crimes.

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