University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.

“I know'd it—I know'd it!” cried Natty, when
both deer and hounds were in full view;— “the
buck has gone by them with the wind, and it has
been too much for the poor rogues; but I must
break them of these tricks, or they'll give me a
deal of trouble. He-ere, he-ere—shore with you,
rascals—shore with you—will ye?—Oh! off with
you, old Hector, or I'll hatchel your hide with my
ramrod when I get ye.”

The dog's knew their master's voice, and after
swimming in a circle, as if reluctant to give over
the chase, and yet afraid to persevere, they finally
obeyed, and returned to the land, where they filled
the air with their howlings and cries.

In the mean time, the deer, urged by his fears,
had swam over half the distance between the shore
and the boats, before his terror permitted him to
see the new danger. But at the sounds of Natty's
voice he turned short in his course, and for a
few moments, seemed about to rush back again, and
brave the dogs. His retreat in this direction was,
however, effectually cut off, and, turning a second

time, he urged his course obliquely for the centre
of the lake, with an intention of landing on the
western shore. As the buck swam by the fishermen,
raising his nose high into the air, curling
the water before his slim neck like the beak of
a galley, throwing his legs forward, and gliding
along with incredible velocity, the Leather-stocking
began to sit very uneasy in his canoe.

“'Tis a noble creater!” he exclaimed; “what
a pair of horns! a man might hang up all his
garments on the branches. Lets me see—July is
the last month, and the flesh must be getting
good.” While he was talking, Natty had instinctively
employed himself in fastening the inner
end of the bark rope, that served him for a cable,
to a paddle, and, rising suddenly on his legs, he
cast this buoy away from him, and cried— “Strike
out, John! let her go. The creater's a fool to
tempt a man in this way.”

Mohegan threw the fastening of the youth's boat
off the canoe, and, with one stroke of his paddle
sent the light bark over the water like a meteor.

“Hold!” exclaimed Edwards. “Remember
the law, my old friends. You are in plain sight
of the village, and I know that Judge Temple is
determined to prosecute all, indiscriminately, who
kill the deer out of season.”

But the remonstrance came too late; the canoe
was already far from the skiff, and the two
hunters too much engaged in their pursuit to listen
to his voice.

The buck was now within fifty yards of his
pursuers, cutting the water most gallantly, and
snorting at each breath with his terror and his
exertions, while the canoe seemed to dance over
the waves, as it rose and fell with the undulations
made by its own motion. Leather-stocking raised

his rifle and freshened the priming, but stood in
suspense whether to slay his victim or not.

“Shall I, John, or no?” he said. “It seems
but a poor advantage to take of the dumb thing,
too. I won't; it has taken to the water on its
own nater, which is the reason that God has given
to a deer, and I'll give it the lake play; so, John,
lay out your arm, and mind the turn of the buck;
it's easy to catch them, but they'll turn like a
snake.”

The Indian laughed at the conceit of his friend,
but continued to send the canoe forward with a
velocity that proceeded much more from his skill
than his strength. Both of the old men now
used the language of the Delawares when they
spoke.

“Hooh!” exclaimed Mohegan; “the deer
turns his head. Hawk-eye, lift your spear.”

Natty never moved abroad without taking with
him every implement that might, by possibility,
be of service in his pursuits. From his rifle he
never parted; and, although intending to fish
with the line, the canoe was invariably furnished
with all of its utensils, even to its grate. This
precaution grew out of the habits of the hunter,
who was often led, by his necessities or his
sports, far beyond the limits of his original destination.
A few years earlier than the date of our
tale, the Leather-stocking had left his hut on the
shores of the Otsego, with his rifle and his hounds,
for a few days' hunting in the hills; but before he
returned, he had seen the waters of the Ontario.
One, two, or even three hundred miles, had once
been nothing to his sinews, which were now a little
stiffened by age. The hunter did as Mohegan advised,
and prepared to strike a blow with the barbed
weapon into the neck of the buck.

“Lay her more to the left, John,” he cried,

“lay her more to the left; another stroke of the
paddle, and I have him.”

While speaking, he raised the spear, and darted
it from him like an arrow. At that instant the
buck turned. The long pole glanced by him, the
iron striking against his horn, and buried itself,
harmlessly, in the lake.

“Back water,” cried Natty, as the canoe glided
over the place where the spear had fallen, “hold
water, John.”

The pole soon re-appeared, shooting upward
from the lake, and as the hunter seized it in his
hand, the Indian whirled the light canoe round,
where it lay, and renewed the chase. But this
evolution gave the buck a great advantage; and
it also allowed time for Edwards to approach the
scene of action.

“Hold your hand, Natty,” cried the youth,
“hold your hand; remember it is out of season.”

This remonstrance was made as the batteau arrived
close to where the deer was struggling with
the water, his back now rising to the surface, now
sinking beneath it, as the waves curled from his
neck, the animal sustaining itself nobly against the
odds.

“Hurrah!” shouted Edwards, inflamed beyond
prudence at the sight; “mind him as he doubles
—mind him as he doubles; sheer more to the
right, Mohegan, more to the right, and I'll have
him by the horns; I'll throw the rope over his
antlers.”

The dark eye of the old warrior was dancing
in his head, with a wild animation, as bright and
natural as the rays that shot from the glancing
organs of the terrified deer himself, and the sluggish
repose in which his aged frame had been
resting in the canoe, was now changed to all the
rapid inflections of a practised agility. The canoe

whirled, with each cunning evolution of the
chase, like a bubble floating in a whirlpool; and
when the direction of the pursuit admitted, for a
short distance, of a straight course, the little bark
skimmed the lake with a velocity that urged the
deer to seek its safety in some new and unexpected
turn. It was the frequency of these circuitous
movements, that, by confining the action
to so small a compass, enabled the youth to keep
near his companions. More than twenty times
both the pursued and the pursuers glided by him,
just without the reach of his oars, until he thought
the best way to view the sport was to remain stationary,
and, by watching a favorable opportunity,
assist as much as he could in taking their intended
victim.

He was not required to wait long, for no sooner
had he adopted this resolution, and risen in the
boat, than he saw the deer coming bravely towards
him, with an apparent intention of pushing
for a point of land at some distance from the
hounds, who were still barking and howling on the
shore. Edwards caught the painter of his skiff,
and, making a noose, cast it from him with all his
force, and luckily succeeded in drawing its knot
close around one of the antlers of the buck.

For one instant, the skiff was drawn through the
water, but in the next, the canoe glided before it,
and Natty, bending low, passed his knife across
the throat of the animal, whose blood followed
the wound, dying the waters for many feet. The
short time that was passed in the last struggles of
the animal, was spent by the hunters in bringing
their boats together, and securing them in that
position, when Leather-stocking drew the deer
from the water, and laid its lifeless form in the
bottom of the canoe. He placed his hands on
the ribs, and on different parts of the body of his

prize, and then, raising his head, he laughed in
his peculiar manner, saying—

“So much for Marmaduke Temple's law!
This warms a body's blood, old John; I haven't
killed a buck in the lake afore this, sin' this many
a year. I call that good venison, lad; and I know
them that will relish the creater's steaks, for all
the betterments in the land.”

The Indian had long been drooping with his
years, and perhaps under the calamities of his race,
but this invigorating and exciting sport had caused
a gleam of sunshine to cross his swarthy face
that had long been absent from his features. It
was evident that the old man enjoyed the chase
more as a memorial of his youthful sports and
deeds, than with any expectation of profiting by
the success. He felt the deer, however, lightly,
his hand already trembling with the re-action
of his unusual exertions, and smiled with a nod
of approbation, as he said, in the emphatic and
sententious manner of his people—

“Good.”

“I am afraid, Natty,” said Edwards, when the
heat of the moment had passed, and his blood began
to cool, “that we have all been equally transgressors
of the law. But keep your own counsel,
and there are none here to betray us. Yet, how
came those dogs at large? I left them securely
fastened, I know, for I felt the thongs, and examined
the knots, when I was at the hut.”

“It has been too much for the poor things,”
said Natty, “to have such a buck take the wind
of them. See, lad, the pieces of the buck-skin are
hanging from their necks yet. Let us paddle up,
John, and I will call them in, and look a little into
the matter.”

When the old hunter landed, and examined the
thongs that were yet fast to the hounds, his countenance

sensibly changed, and he shook his head
doubtingly.

“Here has been a knife at work,” he said—
“this skin was never torn, nor is this the mark of
a hound's tooth. No, no—Hector is not in fault,
as I feared.”

“Has the leather been cut?” cried Edwards.

“No, no—I didn't say it had been cut, lad; but
this is a mark that was never made by a jump or
a bite.”

“Could that rascally carpenter have dared!”
exclaimed the impetuous youth.

“Ay! he durst to do any thing, where there
is no danger,” said Natty; “he is a curious body,
and loves to be helping other people on with their
concarns. But he had best not harbour so much
near the wigwam!”

In the mean time, Mohegan had been examining,
with an Indian's sagacity, the place where
the leather thong had been separated. After scrutinizing
it closely, he said, in Delaware—

“It was cut with a knife—a sharp blade and
a long handle—and the man was afraid of the
dogs.”

“How is this, Mohegan?” exclaimed Edwards;
“You saw it not! how can you know these
facts?”

“Listen, son,” said the warrior. “The knife
was sharp, for the cut is smooth;—the handle was
long, for a man's arm would not reach from this
gash to that cut that did not go through the skin;
—he was a coward, or he would have cut the
thongs around the necks of the hounds.”

“On my life,” cried Natty, “John is on the
scent! It was that carpenter; and he had got
on the rock back of the kennel, and let the dogs
loose by fastening his knife to a stick. It would

be an easy matter to do it, when a man is so
minded.”

“And why should he do so?” asked Edwards;
“who has done him wrong, that he should trouble
two old men like you?”

“It's a hard matter, lad, to know men's ways, I
find, since the settlers have brought in their new
fashions. But is there nothing to be found out
in this place? and maybe he is troubled with his
longings after other people's business, as he often
is.”

“Your suspicions are just,” cried the youth,
“Give me the canoe: I am young and strong,
and will get down there yet, perhaps, in time to
interrupt his plans. Heaven forbid, that we
should be at the mercy of such a man!”

His proposal was instantly accepted, the deer
being placed in the skiff in order to lighten the
canoe, and in less than five minutes the little vessel
of bark was gliding over the glassy lake, and
was soon hid by the points of land, as it shot close
along the shore.

Mohegan followed slowly with the skiff, while
Natty called his hounds to him, bad them keep
close, and, shouldering his rifle, he ascended the
mountain, with an intention of going to the hut
by land.