 | CHAPTER VII. The deerslayer: or, The first war-path |  |
7. CHAPTER VII.
With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing
Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake
Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring.
This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing
To waft me from distraction: once I loved
Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring
Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved,
That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.”
Byron.
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 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 mere 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
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 and
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 on 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 could 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
and his ears and nostrils almost dilated with the effort to
detect any lurking danger. 'T 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 conducted 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 labour, 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,
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
mountain-side. The trees were tall, large, and so free from
under-brush, 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
re-loading, 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 unpractised
in the ruthless expedients of savage warfare, of which
he knew nothing except by tradition and theory, and it
struck him as an unfair advantage to assail an unarmed foe.
His colour 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
in the wood. 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 his 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 day-light. 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 canoe,” 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
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, 't is 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 very wise.
Little warrior—great talker. Chief, sometimes, in council.”
“I don't know this, nor do I say it, Indian,” returned
Deerslayer, colouring 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 — grey hair under
t'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
endeavouring 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; though 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 favourite exclamation of “good!”
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 all 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 Indian to
turn off such work.”
“Good! My brother little old—big wisdom. Indian 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—Indian 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
pacific manner, it is true, but keeping his eyes 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
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
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 colour, 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 Indian 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 endeavoured
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' for ever; 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 Indian; if an unjust, 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
“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 endeavoured 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
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 lightening—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 of
what colour 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 havn'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 colour 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
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 Indian 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,
't would have been nat'ral and proper to let every body 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, after all? It's slaying a human, although
he was a savage; and how do I know that he was a
just Indian; and that he has not been taken away suddenly,
to any thing 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
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 die
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 mountain-side. There was no longer
any time for delay, and, 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 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 as 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 was 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,
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 in to 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 furthest 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,
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 had 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—“'t would 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 colour.
No, no—let him go; if ever we meet ag'in, rifle
in hand, why then 't will 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! 'T wouldn'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—every thing is in the
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 door-yard,
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 spy-glass 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 colour 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 distinctions 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 VII. The deerslayer: or, The first war-path | |