 | CHAPTER XV. The deerslayer: or, The first war-path |  |
15. CHAPTER XV.
Of that which is from that which seems;
But other harvest here
Than that which peasant's scythe demands,
Was gathered in by sterner hands,
With bayonet, blade, and spear.”
Scott.
It exceeded Deerslayer's power to ascertain what had
produced the sudden pause in the movements of his enemies,
until the fact was revealed in the due course of events. He
perceived that much agitation prevailed among the women
in particular, while the warriors rested on their arms, in a
though it was not equally apparent that a friendly occurrence
produced the delay. Rivenoak was evidently
apprised of all, and by a gesture of his arm he appeared to
direct the circle to remain unbroken, and for each person to
await the issue in the situation he, or she, then occupied. It
required but a minute or two, to bring an explanation of this
singular and mysterious pause, which was soon terminated
by the appearance of Judith, on the exterior of the line of
bodies, and her ready admission within its circle.
If Deerslayer was startled by this unexpected arrival, well
knowing that the quick-witted girl could claim none of that
exemption from the penalties of captivity, that was so cheerfully
accorded to her feeble-minded sister, he was equally
astonished at the guise in which she came. All her ordinary
forest attire, neat and becoming as this usually was,
had been laid aside for the brocade, that has been already
mentioned, and which had once before wrought so great and
magical an effect in her appearance. Nor was this all.
Accustomed to see the ladies of the garrison, in the formal,
gala attire of the day, and familiar with the more critical
niceties of these matters, the girl had managed to complete
her dress, in a way to leave nothing strikingly defective in
its details, or even to betray an incongruity that would have
been detected by one practised in the mysteries of the toilet.
Head, feet, arms, hands, bust, and drapery, were all in harmony,
as female attire was then deemed attractive and harmonious;
and the end she aimed at, that of imposing on the
uninstructed senses of the savages, by causing them to
believe their guest was a woman of rank and importance,
might well have succeeded with those whose habits had
taught them to discriminate between persons. Judith, in
addition to her rare native beauty, had a singular grace of
person, and her mother had imparted enough of her own deportment,
to prevent any striking or offensive vulgarity of
manner; so that, sooth to say, the gorgeous dress might
have been worse bestowed in nearly every particular. Had
it been displayed in a capital, a thousand might have worn
it, before one could have been found to do more credit to its
gay colours, glossy satins, and rich laces, than the beautiful
creature whose person it now aided to adorn.
The effect of such an apparition had not been miscalculated.
The instant Judith found herself within the circle,
she was, in a degree, compensated for the fearful personal
risk she ran, by the unequivocal sensation of surprise and
admiration produced by her appearance. The grim old
warriors uttered their favourite exclamation “Hugh!” The
younger men were still more sensibly overcome, and even
the women were not backward in letting open manifestations
of pleasure escape them. It was seldom that these untutored
children of the forest had ever seen any white female
above the commonest sort, and, as to dress, never before
had so much splendour shone before their eyes. The gayest
uniforms of both French and English seemed dull compared
with the lustre of the brocade; and while the rare personal
beauty of the wearer added to the effect produced by
its hues, the attire did not fail to adorn that beauty in a way
which surpassed even the hopes of its wearer. Deerslayer
himself was astounded, and this quite as much by the brilliant
picture the girl presented, as at the indifference to
consequences with which she had braved the danger of the
step she had taken. Under such circumstances, all waited
for the visiter to explain her object, which to most of the
spectators seemed as inexplicable as her appearance.
“Which of these warriors is the principal chief?” demanded
Judith of Deerslayer, as soon as she found it was
expected that she should open the communication; “my
errand is too important to be delivered to any of inferior
rank. First explain to the Hurons what I say; then give
an answer to the question I have put.”
Deerslayer quietly complied, his auditors greedily listening
to the interpretation of the first words that fell from so
extraordinary a vision. The demand seemed perfectly in
character for one who had every appearance of an exalted
rank herself. Rivenoak gave an appropriate reply, by presenting
himself before his fair visiter in a way to leave no
doubt that he was entitled to all the consideration he claimed.
“I can believe this, Huron,” resumed Judith, enacting her
assumed part with a steadiness and dignity that did credit to
her powers of imitation, for she strove to impart to her manner
the condescending courtesy she had once observed in
the wife of a general officer, at a similar though a more
of this party; I see in your countenance the marks of
thought and reflection. To you, then, I must make my
communication.”
“Let the Flower of the Woods speak,” returned the old
chief, courteously, as soon as her address had been translated
so that all might understand it. “If her words are as
pleasant as her looks, they will never quit my ears; I shall
hear them long after the winter of Canada has killed the
flowers, and frozen all the speeches of summer.”
This admiration was grateful to one constituted like Judith,
and it contributed to aid her self-possession, quite as
much as it fed her vanity. Smiling involuntarily, or in spite
of her wish to seem reserved, she proceeded in her plot.
“Now, Huron,” she continued, “listen to my words.
Your eyes tell you that I am no common woman. I will
not say I am the queen of this country; she is afar off, in a
distant land; but under our gracious monarchs, there are
many degrees of rank; one of these I fill. What that rank
is precisely, it is unnecessary for me to say, since you would
not understand it. For that information you must trust your
eyes. You see what I am; you must feel that in listening
to my words, you listen to one who can be your friend, or
your enemy, as you treat her.”
This was well uttered, with a due attention to manner,
and a steadiness of tone, that was really surprising, considering
all the circumstances of the case. It was well, though
simply rendered into the Indian dialect, too, and it was received
with a respect and gravity that augured favourably
for the girl's success. But Indian thought is not easily
traced to its sources. Judith waited with anxiety to hear
the answer, filled with hope even while she doubted. Rivenoak
was a ready speaker, and he answered as promptly as
comported with the notions of Indian decorum; that peculiar
people seeming to think a short delay respectful, inasmuch
as it manifests that the words already heard, have been duly
weighed.
“My daughter is handsomer than the wild roses of Ontario;
her voice is pleasant to the ear as the song of the
wren,” answered the cautious and wily chief, who of all the
band stood alone in not being fully imposed on by the magnificent
even while he wondered: “the humming-bird is not
much larger than the bee; yet its feathers are as gay as
the tail of the peacock. The Great Spirit sometimes puts
very bright clothes on very little animals. Still, He covers
the moose with coarse hair. These things are beyond the
understanding of poor Indians, who can only comprehend
what they see and hear. No doubt my daughter has a very
large wigwam, somewhere about the lake; the Hurons have
not found it, on account of their ignorance?”
“I have told you, chief, that it would be useless to state
my rank and residence, inasmuch as you would not comprehend
them. You must trust to your eyes for this knowledge;
what red-man is there who cannot see? This
blanket that I wear, is not the blanket of a common squaw;
these ornaments are such as the wives and daughters of
chiefs only appear in. Now, listen and hear why I have
come alone, among your people, and hearken to the errand
that has brought me here. The Yengeese have young men,
as well as the Hurons; and plenty of them, too; this you
well know.”
“The Yengeese are as plenty as the leaves on the trees!
This every Huron knows and feels.”
“I understand you, chief. Had I brought a party with
me, it might have caused trouble. My young men and your
young men, would have looked angrily at each other; especially
had my young men seen that pale-face bound for
the tortures. He is a great hunter, and is much loved by
all the garrisons, far and near. There would have been
blows about him, and the trail of the Iroquois back to the
Canadas would have been marked with blood.”
“There is so much blood on it, now,” returned the chief,
gloomily, “that it blinds our eyes. My young men see that
it is all Huron.”
“No doubt; and more Huron blood would be spilt, had
I come surrounded with pale-faces. I have heard of Rivenoak,
and have thought it would be better to send him back
in peace to his village, that he might leave his women and
children behind him; if he then wished to come for our
scalps, we would meet him. He loves animals made of
ivory, and little rifles. See; I have brought some with me
these things among his goods, he will start for his village,
before any of my young men can overtake him; and then
he will show his people in Canada what riches they can
come to seek, now that our great fathers, across the Salt
Lake, have sent each other the war-hatchet. I will lead
back with me, this great hunter, of whom I have need to
keep my house in venison.”
Judith, who was sufficiently familiar with Indian pharseology,
endeavoured to express her ideas in the sententious
manner common to those people; and she succeeded even
beyond her own expectations. Deerslayer did her full justice
in the translation, and this so much the more readily,
since the girl carefully abstained from uttering any direct
untruth; a homage she paid to the young man's known
aversion to falsehood, which he deemed a meanness altogether
unworthy of a white man's gifts. The offering of the
two remaining elephants, and of the pistols already mentioned,
one of which was all the worse for the recent accident,
produced a lively sensation among the Hurons, generally,
though Rivenoak received it coldly, notwithstanding
the delight with which he had first discovered the probable
existence of a creature with two tails. In a word, this cool
and sagacious savage was not so easily imposed on, as his
followers; and with a sentiment of honour, that half the
civilized world would have deemed supererogatory, he declined
the acceptance of a bribe that he felt no disposition
to earn by a compliance with the donor's wishes.
“Let my daughter keep her two-tailed hog, to eat, when
venison is scarce,” he drily answered; “and the little gun,
which has two muzzles. The Hurons will kill deer when
they are hungry; and they have long rifles to fight with.
This hunter cannot quit my young men now; they wish to
know if he is as stout-hearted as he boasts himself to be.”
“That I deny, Huron,” interrupted Deerslayer, with
warmth; “yes, that I downright deny, as ag'in truth and
reason. No man has heard me boast, and no man shall,
though ye flay me alive, and then roast the quivering flesh,
with your own infarnal devices and cruelties! I may be
humble, and misfortunate, and your prisoner; but I'm no
boaster, by my very gifts.”
“My young pale-face boasts he is no boaster,” returned
the crafty chief; “he must be right. I hear a strange bird
singing. It has very rich feathers. No Huron ever before saw
such feathers! They will be ashamed to go back to their
village, and tell their people that they let their prisoner go
on account of the song of this strange bird, and not be able
to give the name of the bird. They do not know how to
say whether it is a wren, or a cat-bird. This would be a
great disgrace; my young men would not be allowed to
travel in the woods, without taking their mothers with them,
to tell them the name of the birds!”
“You can ask my name of your prisoner,” returned the
girl. “It is Judith; and there is a great deal of the history
of Judith in the pale-face's best book, the Bible. If I am a
bird of fine feathers, I have also my name.”
“No,” answered the wily Huron, betraying the artifice
he had so long practised, by speaking in English, with tolerable
accuracy; “I not ask prisoner. He tired; want rest.
I ask my daughter, with feeble-mind. She speak truth.
Come here, daughter; you answer. Your name, Hetty?”
“Yes, that's what they call me,” returned the girl;
“though it's written Esther, in the Bible.”
“He write him in Bible, too! All write in Bible. No
matter—what her name?”
“That's Judith, and it's so written in the Bible, though
father sometimes called her Jude. That's my sister Judith,
Thomas Hutter's daughter—Thomas Hutter, whom you
called the Muskrat; though he was no muskrat, but a man,
like yourselves—he lived in a house on the water, and that
was enough for you!”
A smile of triumph gleamed on the hard-wrinkled countenance
of the chief, when he found how completely his appeal
to the truth-loving Hetty had succeeded. As for Judith,
herself, the moment her sister was questioned, she saw that
all was lost; for no sign, or even entreaty, could have induced
the right-feeling girl to utter a falsehood. To attempt
to impose a daughter of the Muskrat on the savages, as a
princess, or a great lady, she knew would be idle; and she
saw her bold and ingenious expedient for liberating the captive
fail, through one of the simplest and most natural causes
that could be imagined. She turned her eye on Deerslayer,
both.
“It will not do, Judith,” said the young man, in answer
to this appeal, which he understood, though he saw its uselessness;
“it will not do. 'T was a bold idee, and fit for a
general's lady; but yonder Mingo—” Rivenoak had withdrawn
to a little distance, and was out of ear-shot—“but
yonder Mingo is an oncommon man, and not to be deceived
by any unnat'ral sarcumventions. Things must come afore
him in their right order, to draw a cloud afore his eyes!
'T was too much to attempt making him fancy that a queen,
or a great lady, lived in these mountains; and no doubt he
thinks the fine clothes you wear, are some of the plunder of
your own father—or, at least, of him who once passed for
your father; as quite likely it was, if all they say is true.”
“At all events, Deerslayer, my presence here will save
you for a time. They will hardly attempt torturing you before
my face!”
“Why not, Judith? Do you think they will treat a woman
of the pale-faces, more tenderly than they treat their
own? It's true that your sex will most likely save you
from the torments, but it will not save your liberty, and may
not save your scalp. I wish you hadn't come, my good Judith;
it can do no good to me, while it may do great harm
to yourself.”
“I can share your fate,” the girl answered, with generous
enthusiasm. “They shall not injure you, while I
stand by, if in my power to prevent it—besides—”
“Besides what, Judith? What means have you to stop
Indian cruelty, or to avart Indian deviltries?”
“None, perhaps, Deerslayer,” answered the girl, with
firmness; “but I can suffer with my friends—die with them
if necessary.”
“Ah! Judith—suffer you may; but die you will not until
the Lord's time shall come. It's little likely that one of
your sex and beauty will meet with a harder fate than to
become the wife of a chief, if indeed your white inclinations
can stoop to match with an Indian. 'T would have been better
had you staid in the ark, or the castle:—but what has
been done, is done. You was about to say something, when
you stopped at `besides?' ”
“It might not be safe to mention it here, Deerslayer,”
the girl hurriedly answered, moving past him carelessly,
that she might speak in a low tone; “half an hour is all
in all to us. None of your friends are idle.”
The hunter replied merely by a grateful look. Then he
turned towards his enemies, as if ready again to face the
torments. A short consultation had passed among the elders
of the band, and by this time they also were prepared
with their decision. The merciful purpose of Rivenoak had
been much weakened by the artifice of Judith, which, failing
of its real object, was likely to produce results the very
opposite of those she had anticipated. This was natural;
the feeling being aided by the resentment of an Indian, who
found how near he had been to becoming the dupe of an inexperienced
girl. By this time Judith's real character was
fully understood—the wide-spread reputation of her beauty
contributing to the exposure. As for the unusual attire, it
was confounded with the profound mystery of the animals
with two tails, and, for the moment, lost its influence.
When Rivenoak, therefore, faced the captive again, it
was with an altered countenance. He had abandoned the
wish of saving him, and was no longer disposed to retard
the more serious part of the torture. This change of sentiment
was, in effect, communicated to the young men, who
were already eagerly engaged in making their preparations
for the contemplated scene. Fragments of dried wood
were rapidly collected near the sapling, the splinters which
it was intended to thrust into the flesh of the victim, previously
to lighting, were all collected, and the thongs were
already produced that were again to bind him to the tree.
All this was done in profound silence, Judith watching every
movement with breathless expectation, while Deerslayer
himself stood seemingly as unmoved, as one of the pines
of the hills. When the warriors advanced to bind him,
however, the young man glanced at Judith, as if to inquire
whether resistance or submission were most advisable. By
a significant gesture she counselled the last; and, in a minute,
he was once more fastened to the tree, a helpless object
of any insult, or wrong, that might be offered. So eagerly
did every one now act, that nothing was said. The fire was
expected.
It was not the intention of the Hurons absolutely to destroy
the life of their victim by means of fire. They designed
merely to put his physical fortitude to the severest
proofs it could endure, short of that extremity. In the end,
they fully intended to carry his scalp with them into their
village, but it was their wish first to break down his resolution,
and to reduce him to the level of a complaining sufferer.
With this view, the pile of brush and branches had
been placed at a proper distance, or one at which it was
thought the heat would soon become intolerable, though it
might not be immediately dangerous. As often happened,
however, on these occasions, this distance had been miscalculated,
and the flames began to wave their forked tongues
in a proximity to the face of the victim that would have
proved fatal in another instant, had not Hetty rushed through
the crowd, armed with a stick, and scattered the blazing
pile in a dozen directions. More than one hand was raised
to strike the presumptuous intruder to the earth; but the
chiefs prevented the blows, by reminding their irritated followers
of the state of her mind. Hetty, herself, was insensible
to the risk she ran, but, as soon as she had performed
this bold act, she stood looking about her, in frowning resentment,
as if to rebuke the crowd of attentive savages for
their cruelty.
“God bless you, dearest sister, for that brave and ready
act!” murmured Judith, herself unnerved so much as to be
incapable of exertion; “Heaven itself has sent you on its
holy errand.”
“ 'T was well-meant, Judith,” rejoined the victim; “'t was
excellently meant, and 't was timely, though it may prove
ontimely in the end! What is to come to pass must come
to pass soon, or 't will quickly be too late. Had I drawn in
one mouthful of that flame in breathing, the power of man
couldn't save my life; and you see that, this time, they've
so bound my forehead as not to leave my head the smallest
chance. 'T was well meant; but it might have been more
marciful to let the flames act their part.”
“Cruel, heartless Hurons!” exclaimed the still indignant
Hetty; “would you burn a man and a Christian, as you
or do you think God will forget such things?”
A gesture from Rivenoak caused the scattered brands to
be collected; fresh wood was brought, even the women and
children busying themselves eagerly, in the gathering of
dried sticks. The flame was just kindling a second time,
when an Indian female pushed through the circle, advanced
to the heap, and with her foot dashed aside the lighted twigs,
in time to prevent the conflagration. A yell followed this
second disappointment; but when the offender turned towards
the circle, and presented the countenance of Hist, it was
succeeded by a common exclamation of pleasure and surprise.
For a minute, all thought of pursuing the business
in hand was forgotten, and young and old crowded around
the girl, in haste to demand an explanation of her sudden
and unlooked-for return. It was at this critical instant
that Hist spoke to Judith in a low voice, placed some small
object, unseen, in her hand, and then turned to meet the
salutations of the Huron girls, with whom she was personally
a great favourite. Judith recovered her self-possession,
and acted promptly. The small, keen-edged knife, that Hist
had given to the other, was passed by the latter into the hands
of Hetty, as the safest and least-suspected medium of transferring
it to Deerslayer. But the feeble intellect of the last
defeated the well-grounded hopes of all three. Instead of
first cutting loose the hands of the victim, and then concealing
the knife in his clothes, in readiness for action at the
most available instant, she went to work herself, with earnestness
and simplicity, to cut the thongs that bound his
head, that he might not again be in danger of inhaling
flames. Of course this deliberate procedure was seen, and
the hands of Hetty were arrested, ere she had more than
liberated the upper portion of the captive's body, not including
his arms, below the elbows. This discovery at once
pointed distrust towards Hist; and, to Judith's surprise,
when questioned on the subject, that spirited girl was not
disposed to deny her agency in what had passed.
“Why should I not help the Deerslayer?” the girl demanded,
in the tones of a firm-minded woman. “He is the
brother of a Delaware chief; my heart is all Delaware.
Come forth, miserable Briarthorn, and wash the Iroquois
that you are; you would eat the carrion of your own dead,
rather than starve. Put him face to face with Deerslayer,
chiefs and warriors; I will show you how great a knave
you have been keeping in your tribe.”
This bold language, uttered in their own dialect, and with
a manner full of confidence, produced a deep sensation
among the Hurons. Treachery is always liable to distrust;
and, though the recreant Briarthorn had endeavoured to
serve the enemy well, his exertions and assiduities had
gained for him little more than toleration. His wish to obtain
Hist for a wife had first induced him to betray her and
his own people; but serious rivals to his first project had
risen up among his new friends, weakening still more their
sympathies with treason. In a word, Briarthorn had been
barely permitted to remain in the Huron encampment, where
he was as closely and as jealously watched as Hist herself;
seldom appearing before the chiefs, and sedulously keeping
out of view of Deerslayer, who, until this moment, was ignorant
even of his presence. Thus summoned, however, it was
impossible to remain in the background. “Wash the Iroquois
paint from his face,” he did not; for when he stood in
the centre of the circle, he was so disguised in these new
colours, that, at first, the hunter did not recognise him. He
assumed an air of defiance, notwithstanding, and haughtily
demanded what any could say against “Briarthorn.”
“Ask yourself that,” continued Hist, with spirit, though
her manner grew less concentrated; and there was a slight
air of abstraction that became observable to Deerslayer and
Judith, if to no others. “Ask that of your own heart,
sneaking wood-chuck of the Delawares; come not here
with the face of an innocent man. Go look in the spring;
see the colours of your enemies on your lying skin; then
come back and boast how you ran from your tribe, and took
the blanket of the French for your covering! Paint yourself
as bright as the humming-bird, you will still be black
as the crow.”
Hist had been so uniformly gentle, while living with the
Hurons, that they now listened to her language with surprise.
As for the delinquent, his blood boiled in his veins;
and it was well for the pretty speaker that it was not in his
spite of his pretended love.
“Who wishes Briarthorn?” he sternly asked. “If this
pale-face is tired of life; if afraid of Indian torments, speak,
Rivenoak; I will send him after the warriors we have lost.”
“No, chief; no, Rivenoak,” eagerly interrupted Hist.
“The Deerslayer fears nothing; least of all, a crow! Unbind
him—cut his withes—place him face to face with this
cawing bird; then let us see which is tired of life.”
Hist made a forward movement, as if to take a knife from
a young man, and perform the office she had mentioned, in
person; but an aged warrior interposed, at a sign from
Rivenoak. This chief watched all the girl did, with distrust;
for, even while speaking in her most boastful language,
and in the steadiest manner, there was an air of
uncertainty and expectation about her, that could not escape
so close an observer. She acted well; but two or three of
the old men were equally satisfied that it was merely acting.
Her proposal to release Deerslayer, therefore, was rejected;
and the disappointed Hist found herself driven back from
the sapling, at the very moment she fancied herself about
to be successful. At the same time, the circle, which
had got to be crowded and confused, was enlarged, and
brought once more into order. Rivenoak now announced
the intention of the old men again to proceed; the delay
having been continued long enough, and leading to no result.
“Stop, Huron; stay, chiefs!” exclaimed Judith, scarce
knowing what she said, or why she interposed, unless to
obtain time; “for God's sake, a single minute longer—”
The words were cut short, by another and a still more
extraordinary interruption. A young Indian came bounding
through the Huron ranks, leaping into the very centre of the
circle, in a way to denote the utmost confidence, or a temerity
bordering on fool-hardiness. Five or six sentinels were
still watching the lake, at different and distant points; and
it was the first impression of Rivenoak that one of these
had come in, with tidings of import. Still, the movements of
the stranger were so rapid, and his war-dress, which scarcely
left him more drapery than an antique statue, had so little
distinguishing about it, that, at the first moment, it was impossible
to ascertain whether he were friend or foe. Three
withes were cut in the twinkling of an eye, with a quickness
and precision that left the prisoner perfect master of his
limbs. Not till this was effected, did the stranger bestow a
glance on any other object; then he turned, and showed the
astonished Hurons, the noble brow, fine person, and eagle
eye, of a young warrior, in the paint and panoply of a Delaware.
He held a rifle in each hand, the butts of both,
resting on the earth, while from one dangled its proper pouch
and horn. This was Killdeer, which, even as he looked
boldly and in defiance on the crowd around him, he suffered
to fall back into the hands of its proper owner. The presence
of two armed men, though it was in their midst, startled
the Hurons. Their rifles were scattered about against
the different trees, and their only weapons were their knives
and tomahawks. Still, they had too much self-possession
to betray fear. It was little likely that so small a force
would assail so strong a band; and each man expected
some extraordinary proposition to succeed so decisive a step.
The stranger did not seem disposed to disappoint them; he
prepared to speak.
“Hurons,” he said, “this earth is very big. The great
lakes are big, too; there is room beyond them for the Iroquois;
there is room for the Delawares on this side. I am
Chingachgook, the son of Uncas; the kinsman of Tamenund.
This is my betrothed; that pale-face is my friend.
My heart was heavy when I missed him; I followed him to
your camp, to see that no harm happened to him. All the
Delaware girls are waiting for Wah; they wonder that she
stays away so long. Come, let us say farewell, and go on
our path.”
“Hurons, this is your mortal enemy, the Great Serpent
of them you hate!” cried Briarthorn. “If he escape, blood
will be in your moccasin prints, from this spot to the Canadas.
I am all Huron!”
As the last words were uttered, the traitor cast his knife
at the naked breast of the Delaware. A quick movement
of the arm, on the part of Hist, who stood near, turned aside
the blow, the dangerous weapon burying its point in a pine.
At the next instant, a similar weapon glanced from the hand
of the Serpent, and quivered in the recreant's heart. A
Chingachgook bounded into the circle, and that in which
Briarthorn fell, like a log, dead in his tracks. The rapidity
of events had prevented the Hurons from acting; but this
catastrophe permitted no farther delay. A common exclamation
followed, and the whole party was in motion. At
this instant, a sound unusual to the woods was heard, and
every Huron, male and female, paused to listen, with ears
erect and faces filled with expectation. The sound was
regular and heavy, as if the earth were struck with beetles.
Objects became visible among the trees of the back-ground,
and a body of troops was seen advancing with measured
tread. They came upon the charge, the scarlet of the
king's livery shining among the bright green foliage of the
forest.
The scene that followed, is not easily described. It was
one in which wild confusion, despair, and frenzied efforts,
were so blended, as to destroy the unity and distinctness of
the action. A general yell burst from the enclosed Hurons;
it was succeeded by the hearty cheers of England. Still,
not a musket or rifle was fired, though that steady, measured
tramp continued, and the bayonet was seen gleaming
in advance of a line that counted nearly sixty men. The Hurons
were taken at a fearful disadvantage. On three sides
was the water, while their formidable and trained foes cut
them off from flight on the fourth. Each warrior rushed for
his arms, and then all on the point, man, woman, and child,
eagerly sought the covers. In this scene of confusion and dismay,
however, nothing could surpass the discretion and coolness
of Deerslayer. His first care was to place Judith and
Hist behind trees, and he looked for Hetty; but she had
been hurried away in a crowd of Huron women. This
effected, he threw himself on a flank of the retiring Hurons,
who were inclining off towards the southern margin of the
point, in the hope of escaping through the water. Deerslayer
watched his opportunity, and finding two of his recent
tormentors in a range, his rifle first broke the silence
of the terrific scene. The bullet brought both down at one
discharge. This drew a general fire from the Hurons, and
the rifle and war-cry of the Serpent were heard in the clamour.
Still the trained men returned no answering volley,
side, if we except the short, prompt word of authority, and
that heavy, measured, and menacing tread. Presently, however,
the shrieks, groans, and denunciations that usually
accompany the use of the bayonet, followed. That terrible
and deadly weapon was glutted in vengeance. The scene
that succeeded was one of those, of which so many have
occurred in our own times, in which neither age nor sex
forms an exemption to the lot of a savage warfare.
| CHAPTER XV. The deerslayer: or, The first war-path | |