 | CHAPTER IX. The deerslayer: or, The first war-path |  |
9. CHAPTER IX.
Smiles, sweeter than thy frowns are stern;
Earth sends from all her thousand isles,
A shout at thy return.
The glory that comes down from thee
Bathes, in deep joy, the land and sea.”
The Skies.
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
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 its 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 favourite 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 bee-hives, or to a haycock.
The latter, indeed, gives the best idea not only of its
form, but of its dimensions. It stood, and still stands, for
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, and 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 would 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 manœuvre, 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
had 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 the prisoners had betrayed him; a chance so improbable
in itself, as to give him no concern. Notwithstanding
the celerity and decision of 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 rocks, 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
completely commanding the interior of the scow, render the
defences 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 war-path. It was true, he came prepared to encounter
the party that withheld his promised bride, but he
had no means of 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, tree, 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. 'T would grieve me to the heart, did any harm befal
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 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
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 warlock,
or does he carry it above the left ear?”
“ 'T is as you say, above the left ear; he smiles, too, and
mutters the word `Mohican.' ”
“God be praised, 't is 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 vis inertiœ 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, still
they rush forward, and will seize the ark!”
A slight scream, and then a joyous laugh followed from
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 naught. 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
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
the Big Sarpent; so named for his wisdom, and prudence,
and cunning, and my 'arliest and latest friend. 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
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 of 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 idioms 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 any thing about his encounter with,
and victory over the Iroquois, as well as to his own exertions
ended, the Delaware took up the narrative, in turn,
speaking sententiously, and with great 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 neighbourhood 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 effecting the desired juncture
with his friend. The uncertainty of its movements, and
the fact that it was unquestionably managed by white men,
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
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 any thing to tell us of their captyves;
the father of these young women, and 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 good 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, 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 novel feeling,
that, with the capricious way wardness 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 naught 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. 'T is as it
should be—'t is 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 gave
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 tree tops, and the rippling of a stream from a full, sparkling,
natyve fountain of pure fresh 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.
“ 'T is as you suspect, Sarpent; yes, 't is 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
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
could'nt fly in the face of his providence by forgetting my
birth and natur'. White he made me, and white I must
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 honour belongs to the tribe; it must not
be lost.”
“This is easy talking, but 't will 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
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 favouring 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
the 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 companion, 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
favour with men of the frontier. The events that had occurred
since their meeting, as well as her isolated and dependent
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
had 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
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 turn; 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 plaything 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
favoured 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
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.
“ `T is 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 in 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; it 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 back hard, into his own element.
'T is 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
neighbour 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 ar'n'd.” Then
raising his voice, he continued in a solemn manner, “Hold!
If you come nearer, I must fire, though contrary to my
and answer!”
“Fire, and slay a poor, defenceless 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 the vanity, and madness, 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; and then the two men seized the oars, and began to
sweep 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
leant 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
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
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 nioseless 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 relieved 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 feebleminded
Hetty.
| CHAPTER IX. The deerslayer: or, The first war-path | |