 | CHAPTER II. The deerslayer: or, The first war-path |  |
2. CHAPTER II.
Ye would be dupes and victims, and ye are.
Is it enough? or, must I, while a thrill
Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still?”
Moore.
The fire, the canoe, and the spring, near which Deerslayer
commenced his retreat, would have stood in the angles
of a triangle of tolerably equal sides. The distance
from the fire to the boat was a little less than the distance
from the fire to the spring, while the distance from the
spring to the boat, was about equal to that between the two
points first named. This, however, was in straight lines—
a means of escape to which the fugitives could not resort.
They were obliged to have recourse to a détour in order to
get the cover of the bushes, and to follow the curvature of
the beach. Under these disadvantages, then, the hunter
commenced his retreat—disadvantages that he felt to be so
much the greater, from his knowledge of the habits of all
Indians, who rarely fail in cases of sudden alarm, more especially
when in the midst of cover, immediately to throw
out flankers, with a view to meet their foes at all points, and
if possible to turn their rear. That some such course was
now adopted, he believed from the tramp of feet, which not
only camp up the ascent, as related, but were also heard,
under the faint impulse, diverging not only towards the hill
in the rear, but towards the extermity of the point, in a direction
opposite to that he was about to take himself.
Promptitude consequently became a matter of the last importance,
as the parties might meet on the strand, before the
fugitive could reach the canoe.
Notwithstanding the pressing nature of the emergency,
Deerslayer hesitated a single instant, ere he plunged into
the bushes that lined the shore. His feelings had been
awakened by the whole scene, and a sternness of purpose
had come over him, to which he was ordinarily a stranger.
brightness of the fire, and an enemy might have been sacrificed
at a glance. The Indians had paused to gaze into the
gloom, in search of the screeching hag; and with many a
man less given to reflection than that of the hunter, the
death of one of them would have been certain. Luckily,
he was more prudent. Although the rifle dropped a little
towards the foremost of his pursuers, he did not aim or fire,
but disappeared in the cover. To gain the beach, and to
follow it round to the place where Chingachgook was already
in the canoe, with Hist, anxiously waiting his appearance,
occupied but a moment. Laying his rifle in the bottom
of the canoe, Deerslayer stooped to give the latter a
vigorous shove from the shore, when a powerful Indian
leaped through the bushes, alighting like a panther on his
back. Every thing was now suspended by a hair; a false
step ruining all. With a generosity that would have rendered
a Roman illustrious throughout all time—but which,
in the career of one so simple and humble, would have been
for ever lost to the world, but for this unpretending legend,
Deerslayer threw all his force into a desperate effort, shoved
the canoe off with a power that sent it a hundred feet from
the shore as it might be in an instant, and fell forward into
the lake, himself, face downward; his assailant necessarily
following him.
Although the water was deep within a few yards of the
beach, it was not more than breast-high as close in as the spot
where the two combatants fell. Still this was quite sufficient
to destroy one who had sunk under the great disadvantages
in which Deerslayer was placed. His hands were free,
however, and the savage was compelled to relinquish his hug
to keep his own face above the surface. For half a minute
there was a desperate struggle, like the floundering of an
alligator that has just seized some powerful prey, and then
both stood erect, grasping each other's arms, in order to prevent
the use of the deadly knife in the darkness. What
might have been the issue of this severe personal struggle
cannot be known, for half-a-dozen savages came leaping into
the water to the aid of their friend, and Deerslayer yielded
himself a prisoner with a dignity that was as remarkable as
his self-devotion.
To quit the lake and lead their new captive to the fire,
occupied the Indians but another minute. So much engaged
were they all with the struggle and its consequences that the
canoe was unseen, though it still lay so near the shore as to
render every syllable that was uttered perfectly intelligible
to the Delaware and his betrothed; and the whole party left
the spot, some continuing the pursuit after Hist, along the
beach, though most proceeded to the light. Here Deerslayer's
antagonist so far recovered his breath and his recollection,
for he had been throttled nearly to strangulation, as to
relate the manner in which the girl had got off. It was now
too late to assail the other fugitives, for no sooner was his
friend led into the bushes than the Delaware placed his paddle
into the water, and the light canoe glided noiselessly
away, holding its course towards the centre of the lake, until
safe from shot, after which it sought the ark.
When Deerslayer reached the fire, he found himself surrounded
by no less than eight grim savages, among whom
was his old acquaintance Rivenoak. As soon as the latter
caught a glimpse of the captive's countenance, he spoke
apart to his companions, and a low but general exclamation
of pleasure and surprise escaped them. They knew that
the conqueror of their late friend, he who had fallen on the
opposite side of the lake, was in their hands, and subject to
their mercy or vengeance. There was no little admiration
mingled in the ferocious looks that were thrown on the prisoner,
an admiration that was as much excited by his present
composure as by his past deeds. This scene may be said
to have been the commencement of the great and terrible
reputation that Deerslayer, or Hawkeye, as he was afterwards
called, enjoyed among all the tribes of New York and
Canada; a reputation that was certainly more limited in its
territorial and numerical extent, than those which are possessed
in civilized life, but which was compensated for what
it wanted in these particulars, perhaps, by its greater justice,
and the total absence of mystification and management.
The arms of Deerslayer were not pinioned, and he was
left the free use of his hands, his knife having been first
removed. The only precaution that was taken to secure
his person was untiring watchfulness, and a strong rope of
bark that passed from ancle to ancle, not so much to prevent
to escape by any sudden leap. Even this extra provision
against flight was not made until the captive had been
brought to the light and his character ascertained. It was,
in fact, a compliment to his prowess, and he felt proud of
the distinction. That he might be bound when the warriors
slept he thought probable, but to be bound in the moment of
capture, showed that he was already, and thus early, attaining
a name. While the young Indians were fastening the
rope, he wondered if Chingachgook would have been treated
in the same manner, had he too fallen into the hands of the
enemy. Nor did the reputation of the young pale-face rest
altogether on his success in the previous combat, or in his
discriminating and cool manner of managing the late negotiation;
for it had received a great accession by the occurrences
of the night. Ignorant of the movements of the ark,
and of the accident that had brought their fire into view, the
Iroquois attributed the discovery of their new camp to the
vigilance of so shrewd a foe. The manner in which he ventured
upon the point, the abstraction or escape of Hist, and
most of all the self-devotion of the prisoner, united to the
readiness with which he had sent the canoe adrift, were so
many important links in the chain of facts on which his
growing fame was founded. Many of these circumstances
had been seen, some had been explained, and all were understood.
While this admiration, and these honours were so unreservedly
bestowed on Deerslayer, he did not escape some
of the penalties of his situation. He was permitted to seat
himself on the end of a log, near the fire, in order to dry
his clothes, his late adversary standing opposite, now holding
articles of his own scanty vestments to the heat, and
now feeling his throat, on which the marks of his enemy's
fingers were still quite visible. The rest of the warriors
consulted together, near at hand, all those who had been out
having returned to report that no signs of any other prowlers
near the camp were to be found. In this state of things,
the old woman, whose name was Shebear, in plain English,
approached Deerslayer, with her fists clenched and her eyes
flashing fire. Hitherto she had been occupied with screaming,
an employment at which she had played her part with
alarming all within reach of a pair of lungs that had
been strengthened by long practice, she next turned her attention
to the injuries her own person had sustained in the
struggle. These were in no manner material, though they
were of a nature to arouse all the fury of a woman who had
long ceased to attract by means of the gentler qualities, and
who was much disposed to revenge the hardships she had
so long endured, as the neglected wife and mother of savages,
on all who came within her power. If Deerslayer
had not permanently injured her, he had temporarily caused
her to suffer, and she was not a person to overlook a wrong
of this nature on account of its motive.
“Skunk of the pale-faces,” commenced this exasperated
and semi-poetic fury, shaking her fist under the nose of the
impassable hunter, “you are not even a woman. Your
friends, the Delawares, are only women, and you are their
sheep. Your own people will not own you, and no tribe of
red men would have you in their wigwams; you skulk
among petticoated warriors. You slay our brave friend who
has left us? —no—his great soul scorned to fight you, and
left his body rather than have the shame of slaying you!
But the blood that you spilt when the spirit was not looking
on, has not sunk into the ground. It must be buried in
your groans — what music do I hear? Those are not the
wailings of a red man! — no red warrior groans so much
like a hog. They come from a pale-face throat—a Yengeese
bosom, and sound as pleasant as girls singing. — Dog —
skunk—wood-chuck—mink — hedge-hog—pig—toad—spider—Yengee—”
Here the old woman having expended her breath, and
exhausted her epithets, was fain to pause a moment, though
both her fists were shook in the prisoner's face, and the
whole of her wrinkled countenance was filled with fierce
resentment. Deerslayer looked upon these impotent attempts
to arouse him, as indifferently as a gentleman in our
own state of society regards the vituperative terms of a
blackguard: the one party feeling that the tongue of an
old woman could never injure a warrior, and the other
knowing that mendacity and vulgarity can only permanent—
ly affect those who resort to their use; but he was spared
who shoved aside the hag, bidding her quit the spot,
and prepared to take his seat at the side of his prisoner.
The old woman withdrew, but the hunter well understood
that he was to be the subject of all her means of annoyance,
if not of positive injury, so long as he remained in the
power of his enemies; for nothing rankles so deeply as
the consciousness that an attempt to irritate has been met
by contempt, a feeling that is usually the most passive of
any that is harboured in the human breast. Rivenoak quietly
took the seat we have mentioned, and, after a short
pause, he commenced a dialogue, which we translate as
usual, for the benefit of those readers who have not studied
the North American languages.
“My pale-face friend is very welcome,” said the Indian,
with a familiar nod, and a smile so covert that it required
all Deerslayer's vigilance to detect, and not a little of his
philosophy to detect unmoved; “he is welcome. The Hurons
keep a hot fire to dry the white man's clothes by.”
“I thank you, Huron, or Mingo, as I most like to call
you,” returned the other; “I thank you for the welcome,
and I thank you for the fire. Each is good in its way, and
the last is very good, when one has been in a spring as cold
as the Glimmerglass. Even Huron warmth may be pleasant,
at such a time, to a man with a Delaware heart.”
“The pale-face—but my brother has a name? So great
a warrior would not have lived without a name?”
“Mingo,” said the hunter, a little of the weakness of human
nature exhibiting itself in the glance of his eye, and
the colour on his cheek,—“Mingo, your brave called me
Hawkeye, I suppose on account of a quick and sartain aim,
when he was lying with his head in my lap, afore his spirit
started for the happy hunting-grounds.”
“'T is a good name! The hawk is sure of his blow.
Hawkeye is not a woman; why does he live with the Delawares?”
“I understand you, Mingo, but we look on all that as a
sarcumvention of some of your subtle devils, and deny the
charge. Providence placed me among the Delawares young;
and, 'bating what Christian usages demand of my colour
and gifts, I hope to live and die in their tribe. Still, I do
shall strive to do a pale-face's duty in red-skin society.”
“Good; a Huron is a red-skin, as well as a Delaware.
Hawkeye is more of a Huron than of a woman.”
“I suppose you know, Mingo, your own meaning; if you
don't, I make no question 't is well known to Satan. But
if you wish to get any thing out of me, speak plainer, for
bargains cannot be made blindfolded, or tongue-tied.”
“Good; Hawkeye has not a forked tongue, and he likes
to say what he thinks. He is an acquaintance of the Muskrat,”—this
was a name by which all the Indians designated
Hutter,—“and he has lived in his wigwam; but he is not a
friend. He wants no scalps, like a miserable Indian, but
fights like a stout-hearted pale-face. The Muskrat is neither
white, nor red; neither a beast, nor a fish. He is a water-snake;
sometimes in the spring and sometimes on the land.
He looks for scalps, like an outcast. Hawkeye can go back
and tell him how he has outwitted the Hurons, how he has
escaped; and when his eyes are in a fog, when he can't see
as far as from his cabin to the woods, then Hawkeye can
open the door for the Hurons. And how will the plunder be
divided? Why, Hawkeye will carry away the most, and
the Hurons will take what he may choose to leave behind
him. The scalps can go to Canada, for a pale-face has no
satisfaction in them.”
“Well, well, Rivenoak,—for so I hear 'em tarm you,—
this is plain English enough, though spoken in Iroquois. I
understand all you mean, now, and must say it out-devils
even Mingo deviltry! No doubt, 't would be easy enough
to go back and tell the Muskrat that I had got away from
you, and gain some credit, too, by the expl'ite.”
“Good; that is what I want the pale-face to do.”
“Yes — yes — that's plain enough. I know what you
want me to do, without more words. When inside the house,
and eating the Muskrat's bread, and laughing and talking
with his pretty darters, I might put his eyes into so thick a
fog, that he couldn't even see the door, much less the land.”
“Good! Hawkeye should have been born a Huron! His
blood is not more than half white!”
“There you're out, Huron; yes, there you're as much
out, as if you mistook a wolf for a catamount. I'm white
feelin's and habits. But when old Hutter's eyes are well
be-fogged, and his pretty darters, perhaps, in a deep sleep,
and Hurry Harry, the Great Pine, as you Indians tarm him,
is dreaming of any thing but mischief, and all suppose
Hawkeye is acting as a faithful sentinel, all I have to do is,
to set a torch somewhere in sight for a signal, open the door,
and let in the Hurons, to knock 'em all on the head.”
“Surely my brother is mistaken; he cannot be white!
He is worthy to be a great chief among the Hurons!”
“That is true enough, I dares to say, if he could do all
this. Now, harkee, Huron, and for once hear a few honest
words from the mouth of a plain man. I am a Christian
born, and them that come of such a stock, and that listen
to the words that were spoken to their fathers, and will be
spoken to their children, until 'arth, and all it holds perishes,
can never lend themselves to such wickedness. Sarcumventions
in war may be, and are, lawful; but sarcumventions,
and deceit, and treachery, among fri'nds, are fit only for the
pale-face devils. I know that there are white men enough
to give you this wrong idee of our natur', but such are ontrue
to their blood and gifts, and ought to be, if they are not,
outcasts and vagabonds. No upright pale-face could do
what you wish, and to be as plain with you as I wish to be,
in my judgment, no upright Delaware, either; with a Mingo
it may be different.”
The Huron listened to this rebuke with obvious disgust;
but he had his ends in view, and was too wily to lose all
chance of effecting them, by a precipitate avowal of resentment.
Affecting to smile, he seemed to listen eagerly, and
he then pondered on what he had heard.
“Does Hawkeye love the Muskrat?” he abruptly demanded;
“or does he love his daughters?”
“Neither, Mingo. Old Tom is not a man to gain my
love; and, as for the darters, they are comely enough to
gain the liking of any young man; but there's reason ag'in
any very great love for either. Hetty is a good soul, but
natur' has laid a heavy hand on her mind, poor thing!”
“And the Wild Rose!” exclaimed the Huron — for the
fame of Judith's beauty had spread among those who could
travel the wilderness, as well as the highway, by means of
report and tradition, as well as among the white borderers—
“And the Wild Rose; is she not sweet enough to be put in
the bosom of my brother?”
Deerslayer had far too much of the innate gentleman to
insinuate aught against the fair fame of one who, by nature
and position, was so helpless; and as he did not choose to
utter untruth, he preferred being silent. The Huron mistook
the motive, and supposed that disappointed affection
lay at the bottom of his reserve. Still bent on corrupting
or bribing his captive, in order to obtain possession of the
treasures with which his imagination filled the castle, he
persevered in his attack.
“Hawkeye is talking with a friend,” he continued. “He
knows that Rivenoak is a man of his word, for they have
traded together, and trade opens the soul. My friend has
come here, on account of a little string held by a girl, that
can pull the whole body of the stoutest warrior?”
“You are nearer the truth, now, Huron, than you 've
been afore, since we began to talk. This is true. But
one end of that string was not fast to my heart, nor did the
Wild Rose hold the other.”
“This is wonderful! Does my brother love in his head,
and not in his heart? And can the Feeble-Mind pull so
hard against so stout a warrior?”
“There it is ag'in; sometimes right, and sometimes
wrong! The string you mean, is fast to the heart of a
great Delaware; one of Mohican stock in fact, living among
the Delawares since the disparsion of his own people, and
of the family of Uncas—Chingachgook by name, or Great
Sarpent. He has come here, led by the string, and I 've
followed, or rather come afore, for I got here first, pulled
by nothing stronger than fri'ndship; which is strong enough
for such as are not niggardly of their feelin's, and are willing
to live a little for their fellow-creatur's, as well as for
themselves.”
“But a string has two ends—one is fast to the mind of
a Mohican, and the other—?”
“Why the other was here close to the fire, half an hour
since. Wah-ta!-Wah held it in her hand, if she didn't hold
it to her heart.”
“I understand what you mean, my brother,” returned
the Indian, gravely, for the first time catching a direct clue
to the adventures of the evening. “The Great Serpent,
being strongest, pulled the hardest, and Hist was forced to
leave us.”
“I don't think there was much pulling about it,” answered
the other, laughing, always in his silent manner, with
as much heartiness as if he were not a captive, and in danger
of torture or death. “I don't think there was much
pulling about it; no, I don't. Lord help you, Huron! he
likes the gal, and the gal likes him, and it surpassed Huron
sarcumventions to keep two young people apart, when there
was so strong a feelin' to bring 'em together.”
“And Hawkeye and Chingachgook came into our camp
on this errand, only?”
“That's a question that'll answer itself, Mingo! Yes,
if a question could talk, it would answer itself, to your parfect
satisfaction. For what else should we come? And yet,
it is'nt exactly so, neither; for we didn't come into your
camp at all, but only as far as that pine, there, that you see
on the other side of the ridge, where we stood watching
your movements and conduct, as long as we liked. When
we were ready, the Sarpent gave his signal, and then all
went just as it should, down to the moment when yonder
vagabond leaped upon my back. Sartain; we came for
that, and for no other purpose, and we got what we came
for; there's no use in pretending otherwise. Hist is off
with a man who's the next thing to her husband, and come
what will to me, that's one good thing detarmined.”
“What sign or signal told the young maiden that her
lover was nigh?” asked the old Huron, with more curiosity
than it was usual for him to betray.
Deerslayer laughed again, and seemed to enjoy the success
of the exploit with as much glee, as if he had not been
its victim.
“Your squirrels are great gadabouts, Mingo!” he cried,
still laughing—“yes, they 're sartainly great gadabouts!
When other folks' squirrels are at home and asleep, yourn
keep in motion among the trees, and chirrup and sing, in a
way that even a Delaware gal can understand their music!
Well, there's four-legged squirrels, and there's two-legged
string atween two hearts. If one brings 'em together, t'other
tells when to pull hardest!”
The Huron looked vexed, though he succeeded in suppressing
any violent exhibition of resentment. He soon
quitted his prisoner, and joining the rest of his warriors, he
communicated the substance of what he had learned. As
in his own case admiration was mingled with anger, at the
boldness and success of their enemies. Three or four of
them ascended the little acclivity and gazed at the tree where
it was understood the adventurers had posted themselves,
and one even descended to it, and examined for foot-prints
around its roots, in order to make sure that the statement
was true. The result confirmed the story of the captive,
and they all returned to the fire with increased wonder and
respect. The messenger, who had arrived with some communication
from the party above, while the two adventurers
were watching the camp, was now dispatched with some
answer, and doubtless bore with him the intelligence of all
that had happened.
Down to this moment, the young Indian who had been
seen walking in company with Hist and another female, had
made no advances to any communication with Deerslayer.
He had held himself aloof from his friends even, passing
near the bevy of younger women who were clustering
together, apart as usual, and conversed in low tones on the
subject of the escape of their late companion. Perhaps it
would be true to say, that these last were pleased as well as
vexed at what had just occurred. Their female sympathies
were with the lovers, while their pride was bound up in the
success of their own tribe. It is possible, too, that the
superior personal advantages of Hist rendered her dangerous
to some of the younger part of the group, and they were not
sorry to find she was no longer in the way of their own ascendency.
On the whole, however, the better feeling was
most prevalent; for neither the wild condition in which they
lived, the clannish prejudices of tribes, nor their hard fortunes
as Indian women, could entirely conquer the inextinguishable
leaning of their sex to the affections. One of the
girls even laughed at the disconsolate look of the swain who
might fancy himself deserted, a circumstance that seemed
towards the log, on which the prisoner was still seated,
drying his clothes.
“This is Catamount!” said the Indian, striking his hand
boastfully on his naked breast as he uttered the words, in a
manner to show how much weight he expected them to
carry.
“This is Hawkeye,” quietly returned Deerslayer, adopting
the name by which he knew he would be known in future,
among all the tribes of the Iroquois. “My sight is
keen: is my brother's leap long?”
“From here to the Delaware villages. Hawkeye has
stolen my wife: he must bring her back, or his scalp will
hang on a pole, and dry in my wigwam.”
“Hawkeye has stolen nothing, Huron. He doesn't come
of a thieving breed, nor has he theiving gifts. Your wife,
as you call Wah-ta!-Wah, will never be the wife of any
red-skin of the Canadas; her mind is in the cabin of a Delaware,
and her body has gone to find it. The catamount
is actyve, I know; but its legs can't keep pace with a woman's
wishes.”
“The Serpent of the Delawares is a dog: he is a poor
bull-pout, that keeps in the water; he is afraid to stand on
the hard earth, like a brave Indian!”
“Well, well, Huron, that's pretty impudent, considering
it's not an hour since the Sarpent stood within a hundred
feet of you, and would have tried the toughness of your skin
with a rifle-bullet, when I pointed you out to him, hadn't I
laid the weight of a little judgment on his hand. You may
take in timersome gals in the settlements, with your catamount
whine; but the ears of a man can tell truth from
ontruth.”
“Hist laughs at him! She sees he is lame, and a poor
hunter, and he has never been on a war-path. She will
take a man for a husband, and not a fool.”
“How do you know that, Catamount? how do you know
that?” returned Deerslayer, laughing. “She has gone into
the lake, you see, and maybe she prefers a trout to a mongrel
cat. As for war-paths, neither the Sarpent nor I have
much exper'ence, we are ready to own; but if you don't
call this one, you must tarm it, what the gals in the settlements
Catamount, and s'arch for a wife among the Huron
young women; you'll never get one, with a willing mind,
from among the Delawares.”
Catamount's hand felt for his tomahawk, and when the
fingers reached the handle, they worked convulsively, as if
their owner hesitated between policy and resentment. At
this critical moment Rivenoak approached, and, by a gesture
of authority, induced the young man to retire, assuming his
former position, himself, on the log, at the side of Deerslayer.
Here he continued silent for a little time, maintaining
the grave reserve of an Indian chief.
“Hawkeye is right,” the Iroquois at length began; “his
sight is so strong that he can see truth in a dark night, and
our eyes have been blinded. He is owl, darkness hiding
nothing from him. He ought not to strike his friends. He
is right.”
“I 'm glad you think so, Mingo,” returned the other, “for
a traitor, in my judgment, is worse than a coward. I care
as little for the Muskrat, as one pale-face ought to care for
another; but I care too much for him, to ambush him in the
way you wished. In short, according to my idees, any sarcumventions,
except open-war sarcumventions, are ag'in
both law, and what we whites call `gospel,' too.”
“My pale-face brother is right; he is no Indian, to forget
his Manitou and his colour. The Hurons know that they
have a great warrior for their prisoner, and they will treat
him as one. If he is to be tortured, his torments shall be
such as no common man can bear; and if he is to be treated
as a friend, it will be the friendship of chiefs.”
As the Huron uttered this extraordinary assurance of
consideration, his eye furtively glanced at the countenance
of his listener, in order to discover how he stood the compliment;
though his gravity and apparent sincerity would
have prevented any man but one practised in artifices, from
detecting his motives. Deerslayer belonged to the class of
the unsuspicious; and acquainted with the Indian notions
of what constituted respect, in matters connected with the
treatment of captives, he felt his blood chill at the announcement,
even while he maintained an aspect so steeled that his
“God has put me in your hands, Huron,” the captive at
length answered, “and I suppose you will act your will on
me. I shall not boast of what I can do, under torment, for
I've never been tried, and no man can say till he has been;
but I'll do my endivours not to disgrace the people among
whom I got my training. Howsever, I wish you now to
bear witness, that I'm altogether of white blood, and, in a
nat'ral way, of white gifts, too; so, should I be overcome
and forget myself, I hope you'll lay the fault where it properly
belongs; and in no manner put it on the Delawares,
or their allies and friends the Mohicans. We're all created
with more or less weakness, and I'm afeard it's a pale-face's
to give in under great bodily torment, when a red-skin
will sing his songs, and boast of his deeds in the very teeth
of his foes!”
“We shall see. Hawkeye has a good countenance, and
he is tough—But why should he be tormented, when the
Hurons love him? He is not born their enemy; and the
death of one warrior will not cast a cloud between them for
ever.”
“So much the better, Huron; so much the better. Still
I don't wish to owe any thing to a mistake about each other's
meaning. It is so much the better that you bear no malice
for the loss of a warrior who fell in war; and yet it is ontrue
that there is no inmity—lawful inmity I mean, atween us.
So far as I have red-skin feelin's at all, I've Delaware feelin's;
and I leave you to judge for yourself, how far they are
likely to be fri'ndly to the Mingos—”
Deerslayer ceased, for a sort of spectre stood before him,
that put a sudden stop to his words, and, indeed, caused him
for a moment, to doubt the fidelity of his boasted vision.
Hetty Hutter was standing at the side of the fire, as quietly
as if she belonged to the tribe.
As the hunter and the Indian sat watching the emotions
that were betrayed in each other's countenance, the girl had
approached unnoticed, doubtless ascending from the beach
on the southern side of the point, or that next to the spot
where the ark had anchored, and had advanced to the fire
with the fearlessness that belonged to her simplicity, and
from the Indians. As soon as Rivenoak perceived
the girl, she was recognised, and calling to two or three of
the younger warriors, the chief sent them out to reconnoitre,
lest her appearance should be the forerunner of another attack.
He then motioned to Hetty to draw near.
“I hope your visit is a sign that the Sarpent and Hist are
in safety, Hetty,” said Deerslayer, as soon as the girl had
complied with the Huron's request. “I don't think you'd
come ashore ag'in, on the ar'n'd that brought you here
afore.”
“Judith told me to come this time, Deerslayer,” Hetty
replied; “she paddled me ashore herself, in a canoe, as
soon as the Serpent had shown her Hist, and told his
story. How handsome Hist is to-night, Deerslayer, and
how much happier she looks than when she was with the
Hurons!”
“That's natur', gal; yes, that may be set down as human
natur'. She's with her betrothed, and no longer fears a
Mingo husband. In my judgment, Judith, herself, would
lose most of her beauty if she thought she was to bestow it
all on a Mingo! Content is a great fortifier of good looks;
and I'll warrant you, Hist is contented enough, now she is
out of the hands of these miscreants, and with her chosen
warrior! Did you say that your sister told you to come
ashore—why should Judith do that?”
“She bid me come to see you, and to try and persuade
the savages to take more elephants to let you off; but I've
brought the Bible with me—that will do more than all the
elephants in father's chest!”
“And your father, good little Hetty—and Hurry; did
they know of your ar'n'd?”
“Nothing. Both are asleep; and Judith and the Serpent
thought it best they should not be woke, lest they might
want to come again after scalps, when Hist had told them
how few warriors, and how many women and children theré
were in the camp. Judith would give me no peace, till I
had come ashore, to see what had happened to you.”
“Well, that's remarkable, as consarns Judith! Why
should she feel so much unsartainty about me? Ay, I see
how it is, now; yes, I see into the whole matter, now. You
March should wake, and come blundering here into the
hands of the inimy ag'in, under some idee that, being a
travelling comrade, he ought help me in this matter! Hurry
is a blunderer, I will allow; but I don't think he'd risk as
much for my sake, as he would for his own.”
“Judith don't care for Hurry, though Hurry cares for
her,” replied Hetty, innocently, but quite positively.
“I've heard you say as much as that afore; yes, I've
heard that from you, afore, gal; and yet it isn't true. One
don't live in a tribe, not to see something of the way in which
liking works in a woman's heart. Though no way given
to marrying myself, I've been a looker-on among the Delawares,
and this is a matter in which pale-face and red-skin
gifts are all as one the same. When the feelin' begins,
the young woman is thoughtful, and has no eyes or ears onless
for the warrior that has taken her fancy; then follows
melancholy and sighing, and such sort of actions; after
which, especially if matters don't come to plain discourse,
she often flies round to backbiting and fault-finding, blaming
the youth for the very things she likes best in him. Some
young creatur's are forward in this way of showing their
love, and I'm of opinion, Judith is one of 'em. Now, I've
heard her as much as deny that Hurry was good-looking;
and the young woman who could do that, must be far gone
indeed.”
“The young woman who liked Hurry would own that he
is handsome. I think Hurry very handsome, Deerslayer,
and I'm sure everybody must think so, that has eyes. Judith
don't like Harry March, and that's the reason she finds
fault with him.”
`Well—well—my good little Hetty, have it your own
way. If we should talk from now till winter, each would
think as at present; and there's no use in words. I must
believe that Judith is much wrapped up in Hurry, and that,
sooner or later, she'll have him; and this, too, all the more
from the manner in which she abuses him; and I dare to
say, you think just the contrary. But mind what I now tell
you, gal, and pretend not to know it,” continued this being,
who was so obtuse on a point on which men are usually
quick enough to make discoveries, and so acute in matters
of mankind; “I see how it is, with these vagabonds. Rivenoak
has left us, you see, and is talking yonder with his
young men; and though too far to be heard, I can see what
he is telling them. Their orders is to watch your movements,
and to find where the canoe is to meet you, to take
you back to the ark, and then to seize all and what they
can. I'm sorry Judith sent you, for I suppose she wants
you to go back ag'in.”
“All that's settled, Deerslayer,” returned the girl, in a
low, confidential, and meaning manner; “and you may
trust me to out-wit the best Indian of them all. I know I
am feeble-minded, but I've got some sense, and you 'll see
how I'll use it, in getting back, when my errand is done!”
“Ahs! me, poor girl; I'm afeard all that's easier said
than done. They 're a venomous set of riptyles, and their
p'ison's none the milder for the loss of Hist. Well, I'm
glad the Sarpent was the one to get off with the gal; for
now there'll be two happy, at least; whereas, had he fallen
into the hands of the Mingos, there'd been two miserable,
and another far from feelin' as a man likes to feel.”
“Now you put me in mind of a part of my errand, that I
had almost forgotten, Deerslayer. Judith told me to ask
you what you thought the Hurons would do with you if you
couldn't be bought off, and what she had best do to serve
you. Yes, this was the most important part of the errand
—what she had best do in order to serve you.”
“That's as you think, Hetty; but it's no matter. Young
women are apt to lay most stress on what most touches their
feelin's; but no matter; have it your own way, so you be
but careful not to let the vagabonds get the mastery of a
canoe. When you get back to the ark, tell'em to keep
close, and to keep moving too, most especially at night.
Many hours can't go by without the troops on the river
hearing of this party, and then your fri'nds may look for
relief. 'Tis but a day's march from the nearest garrison,
and true soldiers will never lie idle with the foe in their neighbourhood.
This is my advice, and you may say to your
father and Hurry that scalp-hunting will be a poor business
now, as the Mingos are up and awake, and nothing can
water atween 'em and the savages.”
“What shall I tell Judith about you, Deerslayer? I know
she will send me back again, if I don't bring her the truth
about you.”
“Then tell her the truth. I see no reason Judith Hutter
shouldn't hear the truth about me as well as a lie. I'm a
captyve in Indian hands, and Providence only knows what
will come of it! Hark'ee, Hetty—”dropping his voice and
speaking still more confidentially, “you are a little weak-minded,
it must be allowed, but you know something of Indians.
Here I am in their hands, after having slain one of
their stoutest warriors, and they've been endivouring to work
upon me, through fear of consequences, to betray your father
and all in the ark. I understand the blackguards as
well as if they'd told it all out plainly with their tongues.
They hold up avarice afore me on one side, and fear on
t'other, and think honesty will give way atween 'em both.
But let your father and Hurry know 'tis all useless; as for
the Sarpent, he knows it already.”
“But what shall I tell Judith?—She will certainly send
me back if I don't satisfy her mind.”
“Well, tell Judith the same. No doubt the savages will
try the torments to make me give in and to revenge the loss
of their warrior, but I must hold out ag'in nat'ral weakness
in the best manner I can. You may tell Judith to feel no
consarn on my account—it will come hard I know, seeing
that a white man's gifts don't run to boasting and singing
under torment, for he generally feels smallest when he suffers
most—but you may tell her not to have any consarn.
I think I shall make out to stand it; and she may rely on
this, let me give in as much as I may, and prove completely
that I am white, by wailings, and howlings, and even tears,
yet I'll never fall so far as to betray my fri'nds. When it
gets to burning holes in the flesh with heated ramrods, and
to hacking the body, and tearing the hair out by the roots,
natur' may get the upperhand, so far as groans and complaints
are consarned, but there the triumph of the vagabonds
will end; nothing short of God's abandoning him to
the devils, can make an honest man ontrue to his colour and
duty.”
Hetty listened with great attention, and her mild but speaking
countenance manifested a strong sympathy in the anticipated
agony of the supposititious sufferer. At first she
seemed at a loss how to act; then, taking a hand of
Deerslayer's, she affectionately recommended to him to borrow
her Bible, and to read in it while the savages were inflicting
their torments. When the other honestly admitted
that it exceeded his power to read, she even volunteered to
remain with him, and to perform this holy office in person.
The offer was gently declined, and Rivenoak being about to
join them, Deerslayer requested the girl to leave him, first
enjoining her again to tell those in the ark to have full confidence
in his fidelity. Hetty now walked away, and approached
the group of females with as much confidence and
self-possession as if she were a native of the tribe. On the
other hand, the Huron resumed his seat by the side of his
prisoner, the one continuing to ask questions with all the
wily ingenuity of a practised Indian counsellor, and the
other baffling him by the very means that are known to be
the most efficacious in defeating the finesse of the more pretending
diplomacy of civilization, or by confining his answers
to the truth, and the truth only.
| CHAPTER II. The deerslayer: or, The first war-path | |