 | CHAPTER V. The deerslayer: or, The first war-path |  |
5. CHAPTER V.
The hart ungalled play:
For some must watch, while some must sleep;
Thus runs the world away.”
Shakspeare.
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 any thing by it.
Let this party see scalps afore 'em, or plunder, or honour,
accordin' to their idees of what honour 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
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 enclosed 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 prefar 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 to-day, as
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 any thing, Master Hutter, particularily
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-behaviour.
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 colour, in such a strait as this. I've come on
this lake, 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 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 need 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
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 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 you heart and
hand,” returned Tom, losing all his reserve, as he gained
a renewed confidence in the disposition of his companion.
“Something more may turn up from this inroad of the redskins,
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 harbour it, not I,”
such as belong to my religion and colour. 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 overheard
all that had hitherto been said.
“No more of this, Jude,” called out the father angrily.
“Move further 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 the shore; and,
though I didn't tell it before the girls, for they're womanish,
and apt to be troublesome when any thing 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 all 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 have they burned 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, and 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 consarns Indians. A man
shouldn't take scalps, if he isn't ready to be scalped, himself,
on fitting occasions. One good turn desarves another,
all 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 Indians 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 rights 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 recognised 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 moral 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
Indian, like an Indian; 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 Indian
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 sun-burnt
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 conference
lasted until Judith appeared, bearing the simple, but savoury
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 honoured 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 had permitted the oar to drag in the water, taken 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
the first being a hymn that she had been taught by her
mother, and the last one of those natural melodies that find
favour 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, himself, was
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 will 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 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 otherwise
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
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 any thing 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 every thing,
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 visiter; 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 upward, 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
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
honours of the place to a stranger engaged in the service of
her family. The star-light 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
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 every thing, and he's the best
fellow in the Colony; but, `head him off,' as you say of the
deer, and he is master of every thing near him, but himself.
Hurry is no favourite 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 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
“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 'em thoughtful, and a loose tongue
is no riccommend 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 hereself as if in careless disdain. “Young
women's good names are a pleasant matter of discourse with
some that wouldn't dare to 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 that-a-way; 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
that 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 colour that crimsoned the whole of Judith's
fine face, nor detect the uncontrollable distress that, immediately
after, changed its hue to a 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 steeringoar,
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 V. The deerslayer: or, The first war-path | |